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slutzforbueckers · 3 months ago

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PLEASE I BEG I NEED SOME FLUFF NO SMUT NOT EVEN A LITTLE JUST CUTE GF STUFF

im thinking 🤔 …..paige falls in love with a fan (they can meet at one of her games orrr just bump into each other and click) it’s your choice and then soft/hard launch on her live 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 pls pls pls!!!

(ik you need a break from writing smut too 😭) ps. i love ur fics

running into you— p.b x fem!reader

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: fluff

synopsis: what happens when you run into paige bueckers? literally.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

you never thought you’d meet the paige bueckers, at least not like that.

it was just a regular monday, the start of the week, the day where everything felt a little out of sync and chaotic. your phone was dying, your backpack strap was digging into your shoulder, and your arms were full of books and papers as you rush through the traffic on campus. you were already having a bad morning, your hair wasn’t cooperating, and to top it off you were running late to your strictest professors class.

you were too busy rushing through the crowds of people—trying to get to their own class— and trying not to trip over your own two feet to pay attention to what was coming ahead of you. suddenly, you ran into her head on and dropped all of your things. your half open book bag now wide open and its contents on the ground, your papers flying everywhere. “oh my god— i’m so sorry!”

“it’s okay,” she reassured you. she bent down at the same time as you, reaching for the same thing, which caused your heads to butt. a sharp inhale came from the both of you as you brought your hands up to feel your head and you both looked up. there was a heartbeat of silence—her blue eyes wide, brows drawn in surprise, lips parted just slightly.

“i’m sorry— that was…” you looked away quickly, heat rising to your face as you scrambled to pick up your things. “very awkward.”

the laugh that escaped her was contagious, you couldn’t help but to laugh along with her even through the embarrassment you were feeling. she helped you pick up the last of your things. her smile lingered as you both stood up and she handed you your last paper. “i’m paige, by the way.”

“i know who you are.” your voice cracked slightly, and you cleared your throat. “sorry. that sounded creepy. i’m not creepy, i just— um i’ve watched all your games. well, not all, but like…a lot of them. most. basically all of the important ones. i’m a fan. like, a really big one. not in a weird way, just supportive, you know?”

your skin was practically burning with embarrassment at this point, you wanted to throw yourself into the nearest bush. paige, on the other hand, looked delighted. she let out another laugh, warm and genuine, and it somehow made you feel less catastrophic. "you're cute... and awkward."

your face burned, this time from the compliment she threw at you. never in a million years would you have thought that you would have ran into paige bueckers, literally, let alone be called cute by her.

"i'm sorry, im usually not like this. i'm just kinda... yeah." you shook your head and looked down at the things in your hands, suddenly remembering you were in fact late to an important class. “im sorry, i really have to go. it was nice meeting you, paige.”

“wait,” she reached out and gently grabbed your arm to keep you from leaving just yet. she pulled her phone out of her pocket and tapped a few times before turning it towards you. “could i— uhm, could i maybe get your number? you know, just in case you ever wanna run into me again.“

you blinked at her, eyes wide and nonbelieving, before nodding your head. “yeah—that would be— yeah.”

she handed you her phone, and somehow you managed to type your name and number in without dropping it. paige took it back, glanced at your name and looked back at you with that same easy grin. “it was nice meeting you, y/n. i’ll text you.”

you smiled sheepishly and gave a small wave before turning around and walking away, making sure to keep yourself steady so she didn’t see you accidentally trip.

˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

you hadn't really expected anything to come from it- not really. one clumsy moment, some spilled papers, and a flustered apology- it didn't mean anything. especially when she was such a big basketball star and you were just an awkward fan. but after that day on campus, things had shifted fast but still somewhat natural. she had text you that same night, and then again the next day.

texts throughout the day turned into occasional phone calls. occasional phone calls turned into late night facetimes where she'd be in bed, her hair damp from her shower, her eyes red from being tired but still a smile on her face just from being able to see your face. it didn't matter how drained she was- she always answered, always wanted to hear you ramble about your day, even if nothing important happened.

she started making excuses to see you between her packed schedule- inviting you to study with her in the library, even if she didn't have anything to study. sitting with you at lunch at one of the tables in the yard, her long legs stretched out under the table while you rambled about a million topics at once, but she didn't mind.

the closer you got, the more sure you were. you liked her. you liked her a lot, and something in you told you she might've felt the same way. granted it could just be the delusion settling in, but you were sure.

you had been sitting at your desk, twirling a pen between your fingers as you tried to imprint the words in your textbook onto your brain. you glanced at the digital clock beside you and let out a sigh, you were on hour 3 of studying and you still weren't confident in your knowledge.

dropping your pen, you leaned back in your chair and yawned before picking up your phone to check for any new text—for paige's text. when you saw that she still hadn't responded to the text you sent nearly 40 minutes ago, you set your phone down and stood up.

you figured you'd go and find something to fill your stomach before you died of hunger. just as you were about to open the fridge, there was a soft knock at the door. you paused, confused because you weren't expecting anyone—especially not at 8 p.m. you walked to the door and when you opened it, a smile broke out on your face before you could stop it.

paige stood at the door, in a hoodie and sweatpants, her blonde hair pulled into a messy bun. in her hands, a smoothie carrier with two cups in her right, and a box with the label of that dessert place you mentioned in the past few weeks in her left.

"hi," she said, almost sheepish. "i, uh... i remembered you said you wanted to try these and i just happened to be in the area."

you blinked. once. twice. your heart was doing gymnastics. "how did you even remember that? it was so long ago."

she just shrugged, a smile playing at her lips as she held the drinks and strawberries a little higher. "i just did."

"you're crazy," you shook your head with a laugh and stepped aside. "come in." you guided her to your room and excused yourself for the mess on your desk.

you sat cross-legged on your bed, one hand wrapped around the smoothie she brought you and the other playing with the strings of your sweatpants. paige sat across from you, mirroring your posture, her legs folded awkwardly beneath her in the way that tall people do.

"okay, moment of truth." she set her drink down between her legs and reached for the box of strawberries. she picked one out and held it to your mouth. you hesitated for a moment before leaning forward and sinking your teeth in the berry. paiges eyes flickered down to your lips for a second before she met your eyes again-- a million thoughts running through her head.

your eyes fluttered on instinct, a soft moan falling from your lips at how sweet the strawberry was. "that was probably the best thing i've ever tasted."

"told you," she said, clearly proud of herself. "they do witchcraft in there, i swear."

you both laughed, the kind of light, easy sound that had become more common between the two of you lately. even though there was always that undercurrent of something deeper, something unspoken, it never made you nervous. paige didn't feel intimidating anymore. she just felt like... paige.

she took a slow sip of her smoothie, eyes flickering to you everyone and then as you tried a second strawberry, dramatically groaning at how good it was just to make her laugh. it worked. the conversation slowed— like it always did when you were both content and comfortable and the world outside didn't seem that loud anymore.

you both looked up at the same time, your eyes catching hers, and neither of you looked away. neither of you said anything for a moment, both just searching for something more within the other. paige wasn't sure if she should take this moment to really admit her feelings for you or if she should just laugh it off—she went with the latter.

"you know," she said gently, voice a little quieter than before. "i really like you."

you blinked at her, your lips parting slightly as you scanned her face—looking for any sign she was joking. there was no teasing in her tone, no nervous laugh to follow her words, just honesty. her brows pulled together slightly, like she was both relieved of have finally said it and terrified of how you might respond.

you took a deep breath and gathered your thoughts just enough to process what she said. she likes you. no. she really likes you. after a moment you set your drink down and reached for her hand. "i like you too. ever since that day i ran into you and you called me awkward."

"hey, lets not forget i called you cute too!" she laughed as she thought back to that day. she hadn't stopped thinking about you since you bumped into her, frantic and wide-eyed. you jokingly slapped her knee and smiled.

˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

it had been over a month since paige confessed her feelings, since you decided to make it official. within that time you both decided to keep your relationship private. only a select few knew: her friends, mostly, and that was enough. you didn't mind the world not knowing, you were just happy you were able to be with her. it was peaceful, really, you weren't in the spotlight and didn't have to deal with the bad side of some of her fans. you were able to figure each other out in the quiet and that was perfect.

you and paige were sitting on opposite sides of the coffee table in your living room, cross-legged on the carpet with a half finished lego set scattered on the table between you. paige was hunched over the table, her hair gathered on one side of her head, a focused crease between her brows as she squinted down at the minuscule blocks in her hand. it was designated date night and instead of going out you decided to stay in—order way too much food and build legos until you couldn't anymore.

"okay," paige murmured, tapping her phone screen to check on the food. "food should be here soon."

she set the phone down next to a plastic bag of bright orange bricks, the soft light from the lamp behind her catching in her hair. you nodded, reaching in the box beside you and pulling out a new handful of pieces, your fingers brushing hers as you both reached for the same one. her eyes flicked up to yours and you both smiled.

"i still think you're putting that one on backwards." she teased, gesturing to the section you'd just finished.

"you said that last time," you replied, nudging her ankle with your foot. "and guess who was right?"

paige rolled her eyes with a grin, leaning back against the couch so she didn't get a permanent hunch in her spine. "one time."

"one very important time." you squinted your eyes and stuck your tongue out at her. she laughed under her breath and reached for her phone again, opening it up and heading to instagram. you went back to configuring the piece you had in your hands and paige watched you, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. you could feel her eyes on you and it was making your nerves jump, just like they did every time she stared at you for too long. "stop staring." you mumbled.

her eyes softened as you looked up and met her gaze and a stupid grin broke out on her face. she was thankful for you, thankful that you ran into her that day, thankful that she took the chance to get to know you. she was glad she didn't have to share you with the world but something in her wanted to. she wanted to be loud about loving you— even though she hadn't even said it out loud to you yet.

she took a deep breath and it made you sit up straight, eyes boring into hers as you tried to figure out what she was thinking. you didn't have to wonder for long because eventually she spoke.

"i was thinking that maybe i could go live." she set her phone on the table, the live screen already pulled up on her phone but she hadn't started it yet. "maybe share a glimpse of you or something. only if you want to, though, no pressure."

you blinked at her, her words processing in your brain. she wanted to go public, or at least somewhat public. it took you a moment to figure out if that's what you wanted, if you were ready to be brought to light. after a moment of silence on your end, paige started to doubt herself, mentally scolding herself for bringing it up, but then you slowly nodded.

"yeah that's- that's okay—" a sharp knock at the door cut you off and you were reminded about the food you had ordered. "oh! its the food, i'll get it."

paige watched you walk away and figured she'd go ahead and start the live. she propped her phone up so that it only showed her, waving at the screen as she watched her fans roll in. she leaned forward, squinting as she read the comments. "yeah, its been a while."

you walked back into the room, a large brown takeout bag tucked under one arm and two drinks balanced in your hands. the smell of garlic and warm bread filled the air, and your stomach grumbled in approval. "babe, can you grab this? its kind of—"

you stopped mid sentence as you caught sight of paiges expression, her eyes wide and lips pressed into a thin line. she glanced at the live and your eyes followed her line of sight, just now noticing her phone propped up against the lego box. paige shook her head at the comments, people were going crazy, everyone heard you call her babe. clear as day.

she stood up and walked to you, grabbing the drinks from your hands and setting them on the table, doing the same with the takeout bag. "so, we're doing this?" she lowered her voice so that the live didn't hear.

"we're doing this." you let out a nervous laugh, looking up at her with an unsure smile. she grabbed your hand and gently squeezed before pulling you to where she had been sitting. you were just barely in view, but you could see all the comments— everything they were saying.

babe???? babe???? IM GOING TO PASS OUT

is this a hard launch???

WHO IS THE MYSTERY GIRL PAIGE

guys... paige has a girlfriend... freaking out rn

IS THIS WHY YOU'VE BEEN MIA

"okay okay, guys chill." she laughed, trying to scroll through the comments but there were too many. eventually, she gave up and leaned back. "yes i have a girlfriend. she's amazing."

your face warmed at her words and you knocked her knee with yours, a shy smile on your face. you took it upon yourself to lean into her, putting your face into view and waving. paige couldn't help but smile at you, she wrapped her arm around your waist and relaxed into you.

OH MY GOSH THIS IS SICK!!! YOURE SO PRETTY

guys look at paige... she's literally in love

look at how she's looking at her

HOW DID THIS HAPPEN???

the last comment caught your eye and you leaned back, turning to look at paige. "can i tell them? how we met?"

"that'll be funny. go ahead." she nodded. you moved and placed yourself in her lap so you could have full view of the live.

"okay, so it was totally unexpected. i literally ran right into her while i was trying to get to class... made a total fool of myself!" you shook your head with a laugh as you got into the story of how you met. paige wrapped her arms around you and rested her chin on your shoulder, watching you through the screen—all soft-eyed and a little giddy.

you were halfway through recounting how you dropped all your books and almost knocked paige over when you felt her breath graze your ear. she leaned in closer, her lips brushing the shell of it as she whispered, “i love you.”

the words were quiet—barely there—but they hit you like a freight train. you blinked, completely losing your train of thought mid-sentence. “and then i... uh... i—wait, what was I saying?” you stammered, cheeks suddenly warm, your whole body pausing like someone had just hit your off switch.

paige chuckled softly behind you, still tucked against your shoulder, smug and sweet at the same time. the comments were instant.

OH MY GOD DID SHE JUST SAY I LOVE YOU???

NOT HER FREEZING UP

she's so flustered someone help her

this is not fair I CANT HANDLE THIS

PAIGE I LOVE YOUR GIRLFRIEND SHES SO SWEET

so when's the wedding???

you covered your face with your hands, trying to hide the grin that had completely covered your face. "paige!" you groaned, and she just laughed, arms wrapping tighter around your waist.

“okay, okay,” paige said, turning her attention to the screen with a big grin, clearly enjoying seeing you flustered. “that’s enough fanning over my girl, alright? we got legos to build and food to eat.”

the chat exploded again, but she was already reaching forward to end the live. the second the screen went black, paige dropped her phone facedown and leaned her forehead into your shoulder, letting out a breath that sounded a little like relief, a little like disbelief. you twisted around to face her, straddling her lap slightly now, and she looked up at you with that same dorky smile.

“did you mean it?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

she tilted her head. “mean what?”

you gave her a look, your fingers playing lightly with the ends of her hair. “that you love me.”

she nodded slowly, a rare hint of shyness slipping into her features. “yeah, i did. i do.”

you bit your lip, eyes softening. “good because i love you too.”

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

#m speaks #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x fem!reader #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers x fem!reader fluff #uconnwbb #women’s basketball #uconn women’s basketball #paige x reader

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munsonsmixtapes · 2 months ago

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What about ghost who is secretly in love with his roommate and he’s returning home after being away on deployment? A lot of tension and a big messy love confession after he can’t hold back how he feels about her anymore and some smut ???

Ugh this one was so fun to write!

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) mask kink, nipple play

Ghost unlocks the door to his apartment after months of not being there. He lets out a sigh of relief as he takes in the decorations and furniture the exact same as he left them six months before. He smells that candle he knows you like to light and suddenly, he feels at home. He looks around the place for you, but he doesn’t see you but he hears you.

“Simon!” You exclaim his name and he really did miss hearing that.

All he sees is a blur racing towards him and he stumbles backwards as arms wrap around his neck. He gets a whiff of your perfume and his luggage is dropped to the floor as his arms wrap around your waist, lifting you from the floor and spinning you around, giggles pouring from both of your mouths as he does so.

Simon sets you on the floor and he takes a moment to get a good look at you. All the feelings for you that he’s been holding in are surging forward and he’s trying so hard to prevent from kissing you. You’re all he’s been thinking about for months. He’s read your letters over and over again, so close to writing everything he’s been feeling for you, but he couldn’t. He feels like he owes you the truth in person. That is, if he can stop being a fucking pussy about it.

You take your time looking at him too. He’s got so much more muscle than you remember, the photos he’s sent you not doing him justice. His biceps are huge and you hate how your thoughts are immediately getting dirty.

You snap out of it and pull him into another hug, pressing your cheek into his chest as you give him a squeeze, your arms wrapping around his waist. You realize that you haven’t hugged before, this being the first. You didn’t really talk that much before he left but when he was gone, you somehow got closer and you actually became pretty good friends-even though you want to be more. Even though you’d never actually admit that.

“Can I help you unpack?” You ask, needing something to distract yourself from how badly you want him.

“I’d like that,” he smiles and picks up both of his duffel bags as he carries them to his room with following closely behind. You open the door for him and it’s exactly the way he left it-well, sort of. It looks cleaner and he can’t figure out why.

“I wiped down the furniture and washed your bedding yesterday so it would be all nice and clean when you got here.” He’d normally find this as an invasion of his privacy, but he just can’t find it in himself to be mad at you. The gesture is so sweet and he feels his heart melt just that much more.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, setting his bags on the bed. “But it’s very appreciated.”

“I wanted to,” you reply, taking some of the clothes and putting them away in the correct drawers. Simon can’t believe how easy it is to imagine you in his life romantically. If you’re helping him unpack his luggage as his roommate, what would you be doing as his girlfriend?

He unzips the other duffel and almost jumps at the mask sitting on top. He forgot that was in there and it catches him off guard.

“I missed you,” you tell him and god did he miss you too. He thought about you the entire way home, imagining your reunion, though in his mind, there was a lot more kissing.

“I missed you too,” he replies. Simon isn’t really one to share his feelings so this already feels odd to him. But you’re the one person he feels like he can tell anything to. Well, anything besides how madly in love with you he is.

You both stand there for a beat, staring at each other, both of you trying to figure out what to say. You step closer, standing on your toes and reaching up to push back the strands of hair that have fallen onto his forehead.

His eyes flutter shut at the feeling of your fingers in his hair and when you give his scalp a little scratch, he’s putty in your hands. He leans down, his face only inches from yours and you let your hand fall from his hair, your finger trips tracing over the scars on his face. He’s so close that you could just-

Simon seems to be thinking the same thing because he’s leaning even closer, his lips pressing against yours in a brief kiss. It’s so quick that your brain barely registers what’s happening.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes quickly, his eyes widening in panic, afraid that he’s just offended you.

“I’m not,” you shake your head. “Come back here. I wasn’t done.” He obeys, a little smirk kicking up at the corner of his mouth as he leans down, meeting you as you push up on your toes.

Your arms wrap around his waist as his are around your waist. Your lips meet again, slotting between each other and this is even better than he was imagining. Your lips are soft and they fit so perfectly between his, like they’re puzzle pieces meant to fit together.

“I’ve been wanting this for so long,” he whispers against your mouth. “You have no idea.”

“Oh, I think I do,” you whisper back and now he’s got to have you, feeling his cock harden ever so slightly.

“Jump,” he says and you do, Simon easily catching you as he catches you, your legs wrapping around his waist as your tongue slides into his mouth. He carries you over to the bed and gently sets you down on it, sinking to his knees between your spread legs, your lips still attached.

You pull away to catch your breath and don’t miss the mask that’s in your line of sight. You do a double take and can’t help but let out a laugh as you reach for it, holding it up so Simon can see it.

“It seems like you have some explaining to do, Mr. Riley,” you tell him as you let the mask swing back and forth between your fingers. “Is this some sort of kinky thing I’m unaware of?”

“No,” he says, his cheeks turning pink as he reaches for the mask, holding it out of his reach. “It’s a military thing.”

“Uh uh uh,” you shake your head. “You have to at least let me try it on.” He just lets out a sigh as you put it on and can’t help but laugh as you put it on, the thing looking so silly on you. “How do I look?”

“Ridiculous.”

“You’re right. It definitely looks better on you.” You take the mask on and he bends over, each hand landing on either side of you. You put it on his head and immediately feel yourself getting wet at the sight.

“How do I look?” He asks, his voice much lower than you’ve ever heard. He’s inching closer, his eyes boring into yours and you can see them clouding over with lust.

“I think it’s concerning how turned on I am right now.”

“I don’t,” he shakes his head. “Now are you gonna stare or are you going to kiss me?” You respond by pressing your lips to his and it’s awkward as you both try your best to pick back up where you left off despite the mask.

He leans you back onto the bed, pushing his duffel onto the floor as he does so. His hands slide up your shirt and he pulls it off to reveal your bare chest, nipples hard beyond belief. God, you’re perfect.

“Fucking amazing,” he breathes, his accent more prominent now and you take the mask off just long enough to get his shirt off and then it immediately goes back on his head. You take in his toned body and this is such a different sight. You can’t take your eyes off of him.

You make an effort to pull him down onto the bed next to you and he falls, not making you work for it. As soon as his back hits the mattress, your straddling him, peppering kisses across the expanse of his chest. You bring one of his nipples into your mouth and he lets out a whine in response, his hand grasping at the bedding underneath him.

You lick and suck on him and his brain is melting, hoping that you leave marks on him, physical proof of what you’ve done tonight so he can be sure that it’s not all in his head.

“Fuck,” he whines. “I've been waiting months for this and you have not disappointed.” He doesn’t feel your lips anymore and he sits up to see you staring back at him, your mouth falling open.

“You’ve been waiting for this for months? I’ve been waiting for months.“ You can’t see it, but Simon is grinning underneath the mask. He takes it off, wanting to say his next words with it not on his head.

“I love you,” he says, his voice sounding whiny, desperate.

“I love you too, Simon. And you being away made me realize how much.” You’re both grinning like idiots now and he pulls you in for another kiss, his hands sliding down your sweatpants, pushing them off along with your underwear and once you’re completely naked, you unbutton his pants and as soon as your both naked, his eyes widen as if he’s realized something.

“I-I don’t have a condom.” He totally would have if he knew this was going to happen.

“I have one,” you tell him. “Wait here.”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” he smirks and watches you race out of the room. You’re back in record speed and he watches you tear it open and roll it onto his cock.

You’re on him in an instant and he barely has any time to react before you’re riding him. Your fingers are digging into his shoulders as you’re riding him, your tits bouncing up and down because of how fast you’re going.

Simon’s hips buck against yours, pushing his cock as fast he goes. His pace matches yours, neither of you able to hold back anymore and you only slow down to press a kiss to his lips then put the mask back on him.

“I didn’t think you’d find this so hot,” he says through a chuckle.

“Well, I do.” You pick up your pace even more and he’s trying his best to keep up, pushing inside of you inch by inch until he’s fully seated. “Fuck,” you whine. Your eyes are watering at how full you feel, but there’s no way you can stop. “Feels so good. Harder.”

Simon listens, somehow going even harder and faster, feeling winded but he’s not going to stop until either of you come. He’s sure that he’s close which would make sense since he hasn’t gotten any action for months.

There were women at the bars he and the guys went to but his mind was always on you. Even though he wasn’t sure of your feelings at the time, he still wasn’t looking at anyone else. You were and still are the one person he has eyes for.

“Fuck, baby, just like that.” His orgasm is rapidly approaching and when it does, a string of curse words followed by the word “sweetheart” which makes you melt.

Your legs feel like jello as you climb off of him and he’s quick to race to the bathroom. He comes back with a wet washcloth and spreads your legs, sinking to his knees as he wipes up your mess.

Once he’s done, he disposes of the cloth and helps you get dressed in one of his many t-shirts, him doing the same and the two of you tell each other that you love each other as you fall asleep, looking forward to waking up to each other for every day for the rest of your lives.

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley #ghost x fem!reader #ghost x you #ghost cod x reader #ghost smut #cod ghost #ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x fem!reader

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mv1simp · 11 months ago

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max taking advantage of innocent!best friend!reader … like a dynamic where he spoils her a lot and has made him look her think that all his strange behaviors/touches are normal

I’VE BEEN OBSESSED WITH THIS IDEA FOR AGES THANK U FOR GIVING ME AN EXCUSE TO WRITE IT 🙏🙏🙏

Friends ♥️

Max Verstappen x Childhood Best Friend!Reader

And what the hell were we, tell me we weren’t just friends, this doesn’t make much sense, no

Max has been your closest friend since childhood, promising to always look after you. Sure, everyone gossips that you two are secretly dating, that it’s not normal for friends to be so close, so touchy - but Max blows it all off. So when you ask him for help when you want to get a boyfriend for the first time, it shouldn’t be a problem because Max doesn’t like you like that…right?

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, innocent virgin! Reader, manipulative dark best friend! Max, dubcon, size kink, dom/sub, somnophilia, recording, this is DARK 🥸 3.3k WC

You and Max had grown up close together, your families being good friends as your fathers had raced together back in the day. He had been shy and awkward when you met, age 5 and 6, but as soon as he had stepped in front of you in defence when you had been bullied in school the next day, you vowed to always be loyal to him. Your families approved the friendship, laughing and taking pictures when you two would play house - Max always being the husband doll to your wife doll, of course. You two did everything together - school, holidays, racing where you always came to support him bearing snacks and words of encouragement. So when he asked you at age 18 to move with him to Monaco you didn’t even hesitate to say yes - not imagining a life without your Maxie by your side.

Your move raised a few eyebrows from your family, who had been suprised that you hadn’t outgrown what they had thought was an innocent childhood crush. Your older sister had been especially worried at the thought of you alone in a new city with only Max there to support you. She noticed, sometimes, when he thought no one was watching - how his eyes would be watching you, in a way eerily similar to how a wolf watched a lamb he was about to devour whole. Althought it had taken a lot of pleading from your end to win her over, it had been easy enough to convince your parents to let you go, explaining you were enrolling in Monaco University - being bankrolled by Max’s new generous F1 salary - and yes, promised that you were staying in your own separate apartment. And that had been the plan, but when you stood in the entrance to Max’s penthouse a few weeks later, dripping head to toe with sprinkler water because somehow your up to code apartment had a fire when you had been out, he had insisted you stay at his until you found a new place - just for a short while. A short while then turned into a long while which then turned into the lockdown and at the end of it all Max had said you just couldn’t leave, he was too used to having you there that coming home to an empty apartment would be too hard. And although you had worried, saying that as you both got older it might be strange that you now lived together and people would talk, Max shot down all your concerns, reassuring you with a warm hug and sweet kiss to your forehead that the only opinion that mattered was yours, and as long as you’re happy Schat, I don’t really care what anyone else thinks. You had blushed from the affection and that was the end of that discussion.

You’d always been quite sheltered, naive even - and going to a strict private school meant you hadn’t had any romantic or sexual experience whatsoever. Growing up, it was clear to the adults around you that you had always held a crush on Max, and althought the older boy would always look out for you, he didn’t reciprocate to the same way - at least that’s what they thought. They hadn’t noticed that when you two had been gently separated one night when it had been deemed you were too old to sleep in the same bed anymore, Max had crept back and grabbed your hand as he lay next to you, mumbling he couldn’t sleep without you, liefje. No one noticed that this habit continued well into your teens, when Max would climb in through your bedroom window - initially making you freak out but soon reassured by Max’s words that your parents were just too strict, you were just two best friends wanting to spend time together.

And the first time you woke up one morning to feel something thick and hard pressing into you from the back, scaring you a bit, Max had gently rubbed your shoulder from the back while telling you it was okay, it’s just something that happens sometimes when a guy sleeps next to a pretty girl, you had blushed and accepted the compliment. And no one knew that behind closed doors your chaste goodbye kisses to Max’s cheek began turning into loving kisses on the lips when he had tilted your head up, saying he was going to miss you so much when he went on his first F1 race and he deserves a goodbye kiss for good luck from you, didn’t he?

And of course you would always give Max whatever he asked for since he was your best friend, your protector, the person you loved the most in the world. He’d pay for you, drive you everywhere, cheer you up when you were down, make you laugh, patiently take you shopping and rate every outfit you tried on, fight anyone who dared to give you a hard time - and the rest of the paddock had definitely noticed the lingering attentions of the Redbull driver to his childhood friend. Daniel and Lando constantly gave him shit for it, saying he needed to grow a pair and just confess instead of making puppy eyes at his “best friend”. Max always just rolled his eyes at their gossiping ways.

But it was hard to deny their claims when Max would pull you in to sit on his lap at a games night making everyone smirk at you, or when you would emerge from his hotel room the next morning since you two still shared a bed everytime you went away - it’s just like a sleepover when we were little, scatje, nothing wrong with it - or when at fancy award ceremonies or galas Max would be photographed in his tux, a vogue model at his side as his latest girlfriend - and you on his other side, wearing a luxury dress he’d brought for you. The paparazzi would eat up the dirty looks Max’s flings would always be shooting you, knowing they always came second to his best friend.

The thing was, even when sometimes doubt would flicker in your mind that things were too intimate, too romantic, between you and Maxie - you couldn’t bring yourself to want to draw back. You’d always secretly had such a crush on the older boy growing up, but since he had never directly reciprocated and was now a big world champion with women around every corner in Monaco after him, you’d learnt to accept your feelings were unrequited and you needed to stop reading so much into Max’s pure intentions to look after you. After all, that’s what best friends did, right?

And oh, did Max look after you. It seemed every week he’d level up more and more. Matching jewellery and heels to go with the designer dresses, and lately you had come home to find matching lingerie in Max’s favourite colour, dark blue. You had blushed furiously, feeling an indescribable icky pit in your stomach and remembering your sister’s warnings - Max goes too far, he pushes the boundaries of a normal friendship - but Max put all your worries to ease over the homecooked dinner you made him that night, explaining that the latest dress just happened to come with matching accessories and he wanted to make sure that you felt beautiful in all the layers you wore and it was normal to give your best friends gift, no? But he could return it if you’d prefer… prompting you to hastily accept his intimate gift, reassuring him that it was so thoughtful and you were so grateful. He’d looked so pleased with your response that when he ordered more and more sets, each one getting just a touch more lacier and risqué, you just thanked him for each one. And when he asked you how you found your gift, could he have a look at it, please schatje, I always help you pick your prettiest outfits right? You had nodded in agreement, blushing but shyly pulling his hoodie off your torso to expose the outrageously expensive La Perla black lace set you wore, accentuating your plump ass and pushing your tits up for him to hungrily look at. Max’s gaze had lingered there for a long time, his gaze turning dark and you had felt that same uncomfortable pit begin to settle in your stomach again when he saw the look on your face and patted your soft, chubby waist in reassurance, saying don’t be embarrased, schat, we always grew up seeing each other like this, right? Remember that photo of us swimming in that pool in Ibiza? Completely naked? Besides, you’ve seen me shirtless so many times, this is the same as that. That was true, you accepted dreamily, and not thinking anything of it when Max started asking you to send photos of you modelling the cute sets he’d get delivered to you when he was away. You happily snapped away mirror selfies, in all the different angles he wanted to see you from, even strange ones you weren’t quite sure about like bend over and stick your hips right up in the air, hmm schat?

He’d kiss you goodbye now all the time, saying you were his cute little good luck charm, with the expectation that you’d open your lips wide for him, letting him shove his tongue into your mouth and explore it to his hearts content. Gotta have a better kiss to get better luck. It felt so nice and made you feel all tingly between your legs so you would never turn it down. And since Max was away more and more with his racing schedule, often he would come home and fall asleep straight in your bed, saying he had missed being away from you so much. You had thought it was so sweet, no one else but you got to see Maxie like that, you were the only one he depended on. So you easily wrapped yourself up in his embrace, just like when you two had been little - except this time Max would say you’re so tense, schat, let me help you relax a bit, my physio knows this great muscle relaxation technique-

And it felt soo nice when he rubbed your sensitive little body up and down, you had no complaints, not even when some nights he would travel much, much lower down your plush little tummy than he had before. You just obediently parted your legs for him when he commanded in his deep voice, running his thick finger up your slit through your wet lace panties. And sometimes you’d wake up to feel that very familiar hardness of his behind you, soo warm now as he took himself out of his sweatpants and let his cock rest against you. Feels all tense, sweetheart, cause you kept rubbing against it last night and I didn’t get any sleep he would sigh.

You’d feel terrible, apologising profusely for interrupting his precious sleep when he trained so much, asking how you could make it up to him when Max had said just gonna let it relax out onto you, yeah? Don’t worry, you can even go back to bed, baby. You’d nodded sleepily, so grateful that Maxie was so sweet he always put your sleep first, even when his had been deprived.

He’d waited before you were comfortably nuzzled back against him, breaths turning deeper as sleep overtook you before slowly lifting your damp panties out of the way, and sliding his leaking tip just along the entrance to your innocent hole, making you moan, half asleep cause it felt soo good, and you felt so guilty that you felt so much pleasure while Max had just become frustrated overnight. With your eyes screwed shut you’d never notice the dark lustful look in his eyes, the evil smirk on his face as he had his way with you, letting him getting away with practically murder if it was for the sake of your friendship. You let him continue gliding his cock along your puffy folds, his tip repeatedly stimulating your sensitive clit, his large hands coming up to fondle at your boobs that has somehow slipped out of your camisole and gently flick your nipples before he tensed, holding you tightly against him as his breaths quickened. You has felt something warm and wet leaking out from the sides of your panties. You looked down, dazed, but Max shushed you back asleep, lulling you into his arms again. And when you woke up next you always had a clean pair of fresh panties on, camisole tucked back down over your thick hips, Max no where in sight.

As you grew up, your sexual curiosity eventually began to peak. When all of your friends in uni had gotten boyfriends and giggled to you about how good sex felt, you had gotten curious too. of course, you would never bring it up with Max even though you two talked about everything - because you should only be talking about sex with your future boyfriend, right? But one day when you had come home early from class you had heard lewd noises coming from Max’s bedroom. So lewd that you had been unable to stop yourself from peeking through a slight gap. The sight of Max thrusting himself into his latest girlfriend, her face pushed down into the mattress as he drilled into her from the back made you blush furiously. You’d stood there for a little while, your panties getting damp at the sight of sweat dripping down Max’s abs before you had caught yourself and scurried away, so guilty about violating Max’s privacy like that. You were such a creep, what was wrong with you?!

But that afternoon had also made you realize Maxie had so much more experience than you as you hadn’t been sure what a lot of the movement and positions you had seen that day were. And Max had said you could always ask him for help with anything, right? You couldn’t quite build up the courage to ask him - until your classmate asked you out one day, making you giddy with excitement but come crushing down when he had later found out on the date that you were a virgin, and had said maybe it was best for you to be with someone who was more on your level, that he didn’t feel comfortable being with someone so inexperienced for a casual fling. You’d come home sobbing, running straight into Max’s arms in your cute little dress and strappy heels, crying Maxie, he was so mean, you’d never believe what he said-

Max had been furious when you told him the story. He was so, so angry - not only at your classmate, but at you, for going on this date and not telling him, the way you would always tell Max about everything you did in your day. How could you be so careless, so slutty to go out with a guy like that? Max demanded, making your eyes widen and cry harder. It’s those new girlfriends of yours, aren’t they, they’re such fucking whores.

You’d never seen him so angry before, not even when he had a DNF at a race weekend. He’d only seems to calm down when you had looked up at him with innocent eyes, pleading Maxie, please, will you teach me how to be a good girlfriend, I don’t want to be so inexperienced anymore.

He’d sighed and run his hands through your hair, wiping away the tears that had made mascara drip down your cheeks. Of course, schat. I’ll show you exactly how to be a good little girlfriend. But promise me that you won’t talk to another guy without my permission first, okay? I have to protect you and make sure that you’re trained enough to have a boyfriend.

It was so, so sweet of Max to take time out of his busy schedule to help your embarrassing problem, you thought dreamily. You never noticed that your classmate never turned up to class again, but did have to go to hospital that week for a new black eye and bruised ribs.

Meanwhile, Max first started your “lessons” by showing you how to pump him from soft to a raging erection, guiding your hands into his sweatpants and moving your hands up and down, after you spit cutely into your palms to ease the glide. You didn’t notice the smirk on his face as he watched your struggle to jack off his entire sizeable length with your tiny palms.

Then he’d shown you how to use your mouth to make him feel good. You’d sat on your ass for hours in between his legs as he absentmindedly played his game, drawing kitten licks up his shaft before he’d taken over and told you to relax that tight throat of yours, baby, as he shoved his cock inside your mouth. He’d jackhammered away happily without any regard for the tears that emerged from your eyes. You had coughed, spluttered, throat raw for days as Max made you practise on the daily, tutting at you in mock disappointment when your gag reflux got in the way and you stopped halfway down his length. He’d pulled you up to sit on his lap, his hard cock wedged in between your plush thighs, as he put a dirty video onto the TV - petite ebony deepthroats massive white cock like a pro.

You had blushed and stuttered at the obscene video, looking away at one point but Max had forced your head back to look at the scene, saying don’t miss this bit, schat, look how she doesn’t forget about his balls, yeah?

You’d watched video after dirty video until you had perfected your blowjob technique exactly to Max’s likings. You look up obediently at him as he points his phone at you, flash on and all, recording your performance for reference, of course scatje, we need to track your progress, right? as you sloppily took his hard cock into your eager mouth, all the way to the base, gag reflux well and truly trained out of you from his daily discipline.

You’d woken up the next morning to find Max’s blonde curls between your legs, his tongue sweetly licking at your most innocent parts and you had squealed in shock, Maxie what are you doing ohmygod- but he quickly thrust his fingers into your drooling mouth to shut you up, just progressing to the next level, sweetheart, you need to learn to cum whenever I ask you too.

You’d squeaked and whined as his tongue didn’t stop flicking your clit, his fingers now joining in abusing your poor little virgin cunny until you begged him to pull away, Maxie please I feel funny, I think I’m going to pee- Ahhh!!! You’d ended up squirting all over his fingers and tongue, immediately passing out from exhaustion at the sheer intensity and missing the dark, pleased grin on Max’s face as he licked up your juices from his fingers. God, it was almost too easy to brainwash you into his perfect little pet. Soon he’d having you asking him to claim your virginity, he just knew it. And he would not hesitate, taking what had always belonged him anyways. He’d have made you his housewife a long time ago if your goddamn sister hadn’t kept cockblocking him.

Never mind that. Even she wouldn’t be able to withhold her blessing when you’d turn up at the next family gathering, glowing and expecting his child, he thought darkly. Smirking to himself, Max unbuttoned his pants, freeing his hard cock. In fact, why wait to feed you some bullshit excuse about how no baby, virgins can’t get pregnant the first time or no, I can’t use a condom, schat, it’s bad for you to have something unnatural inside you.

He might as well start now and give you a thick creampie as your present to wake up to later ♥️ After all, you’d take it like the good girl you always were for him.

—————————————————————————

A/N: Chile anywaysssss don’t mind me and my depraved thoughts. Gotta go drink some holy water fr. Lmk what you guys thought! Feel free to request more x

#max verstappen #f1 smut #max verstappen fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut #formula 1 #max verstappen x you #smut #dark smut #18+ mdni #mv1 #mv33 #max verstappen x oc

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ahundredtimesover · 2 years ago

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I Want You to Stay (01) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

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

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

Chapter Word count: 12k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

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

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

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

Also my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight as always 🥰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s unfairly handsome.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But of course, he has to ruin it again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, duty calls. What can I do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Need help?” Yoongi asks.

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

“You brat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you’re actually friends?”

“Yes.”

“Were you more?”

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

“Does it matter?” The older man asks.

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

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

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

But it’s what prompts Yoongi to reply.

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

Jungkook merely hums, taking in the information.

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

“How are you still friends?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How brave,” Jungkook remarks.

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

“Don’t remind me,” Jungkook groans.

“I will. Only so you could feel bad.”

“I already do. That’s why I…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The cafe down the street, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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orphicsun · 8 months ago

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Please please please more Abby!!! Can you write about firefighter Abby since you did bluecollar already... Like Abby saving readers cat then reader goes to see Abby to give her a special thanks make it smut but with plot

I Need a Hero: Abby Anderson HCS

Content: Firefighter Abby x fem! reader, mentions of comphet/struggles with sexual identity, mentions of reader's cat being saved from a house fire, smut, make-out session, car sex, mult. orgasms, scissoring, fingering, modern AU Abby Anderson, loving, giggly sex instead of just rough and fast we love to see it

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: Thank you for this request it was truly so refreshing to write something with plot. I hope you all enjoy this, and keep in mind that Abby's dialogue is red and reader's is pink!

✧.* Abby didn't have an easy life, but she was always a hard worker. She tried out college, got a general associates degree, but didn't enjoy the work load. She liked hands-on work and helping people, so she ended up with a EMT certificate from her local college.

✧.* Abby went on to become a firefighter and felt like she had a purpose in life with that. The look on people's faces when she was able to help them was always sent warmth throughout her heart. Though she was quite lonely, her mother having left her at a very young age and her father dead, she didn't have anyone to share her life with. She had her friends Mel, Owen, Manny, and Nora; still, there was always a part of her that longed for a comfort with someone special.

✧.* While Abby wasn't closed off from dating, she was never able to find a person who she had passion with. She went through a few relationships, but Abby could never find someone who understood who she was, that she wasn't just some attractive stereotype. Abby wasn't the type to have problems with any exes or undergo the tragic sapphic break-ups Nora warned her about, but she always felt like she wasn't understanding herself. She didn't know what she was looking for in a person. She dated various women, some more butch and others extremely feminine, some either funny or more po-faced, it was all somehow the same to her. She wasn't heartless, of course. She had fallen in love before and understood what attraction was. She just couldn't seem to find the "one true person" though, as cheesy as she knows that sounds.

✧.* Abby struggled with her sexuality and that may have had something to do with it. While she knew that she was attracted to women, she grew up denying it to herself. Seeing a beautiful girl made her heart stop, but she told herself it was simple attraction. Owen, whom she went to high school with, was her first time and that was when she was done lying to herself. She was definitely not for the men. Her first time with a woman was when she was already 20, but it was when she first felt like she had found a piece of herself. Before Jerry passed, she did come out to him, and his acceptance was branded into her head on repeat, playing over and over again every time she doubts who she is.

✧.* Abby lived in an apartment complex, not run-down and enough for her needs. Her place wasn't extremely decorated but she didn't spend much time there, so it didn't matter much. She constantly thought about more than that, though. She imagined living in the suburbs with a woman she could call her wife and be a wife, too. She dreamed of having perhaps a cat or dog with her and spending her nights watching as her wife's hips swayed softly as she hummed instead of eating cheap Chinese takeout. It was all just some dream, not something she ever considered to happen. At least, not anytime soon.

✧.* It was just another normal day for Abby when all hell broke loose. A few miles from her station, a house was on fire. The neighbor, frantic and in a panic on the phone with emergency services, informed the fire department that the woman who lived there had a cat inside of the house that the owner loved dearly. Unfortunately the woman was not home at the time the fire started, but the neighbor was certain that if she came home to a burning house, she wouldn't hesitate to risk her own life to save her kitty's. Abby's heart already squeezed at her chest at the though and she immediately signed herself up for the rescue.

✧.* When the firetruck arrived at your home, she was immediately hit by the smell of smoke flourishing into the sky. She wasted no time informing her coworkers of her next tasks and with the pull of a mask over her face, she hurriedly approached the burning structure. The front door was locked, which made sense seeing as how you lived in the suburbs and you were not home. Nevertheless, she was able to open a window and didn't hesitate to make her way through the living room. The fire was surrounding the hallway in which your heater seemed to have malfunctioned. The smoke was heavy and Abby was starting to panic. There was no cat to be seen and she was starting to lose hope, her tongue making small calling sounds in desperation that maybe, just maybe the cat would hear. She didn't want to give up, her voice heightening in volume, and right before she tried to open the bathroom door she heard a tiny "meow!" from the opposite side of the hallway. The bedroom. The fire hadn't touched it yet, thank god. Abby quickly burst through the door and found a small short-hair tuxedo cat meowing at her feet. She sighed in relief, muttering a little, soft "I've got you, kitty" before quickly scooping the baby into her arms and carrying it out of the home back out of the window.

✧.* When Abby took off her mask, small cat in her arms, she was greeted with the sight of a woman frantically crying to a few of her coworkers, the others working to put out the flames enveloping your home. There you were, heavy tears rolling down your face and the people surrounding her trying their best to assure you that your cat would be rescued. You were so beautiful even with sobs wracking over you, hair lit up in the sun and your expressions nearly bringing her to tears along with you. Abby didn't hesitate to approach you with the fur-ball cradled in her arms, clearing her throat from the slight smoke and seeing your eyes widen at the sight. "Oh my god, Minka!! My baby, is she okay?!" You shouted, your voice not carrying any aggression, though. It was clear that you were experiencing some fragments of an adrenaline rush coming home to said home burning down with your cat inside. Abby carefully handed your cat back to you, trying not to smile at her own thoughts. Minka, huh? That is the sweetest cat name she has never heard. Abby's heart once again squeezed at the sight of your tears slowing, your lips planting soft kisses all over the kitty's head. You were truly shaken, seeming to care more about the cat than the home. "I assure you that Minka is okay, miss. I found her in the bedroom and the fire hadn't traveled there yet. She may need to be brought in for any inhaled smoke, though." You nodded, holding the cat close. "Thank you...thank you so much, you really are a hero," you praised, your voice strained with emotion. Abby smiled, putting a large but gentle hand on your shoulder. "If you need anywhere to go, just let us know, okay?" A soft upturn of your lips left her cheeks slightly pink. She was supposed to be focusing on her job, goddamnit, but here she was floundering slightly over the soft lines of your smile. She wasn't supposed to be feeling this way about you, not when you just lost your home and almost lost your pet. She quickly composed herself as you replied to her, "I'll have to stay with my parents for a while, but thank you."

✧.* Even after the rescue ended, Abby couldn't get you out of her head. You were just so beautiful and sweet. She could tell even from the hour she'd spent by your side making sure the cat was okay and comforting you that you were probably one of the kindest, most caring people she could ever meet. She reprimanded herself for feeling this way about some stranger whose cat she saved. That's her job, afterall; she isn't supposed to find romance out of it. Why was it that she went home to call Nora and rant to her about the situation? It also didn't make sense that days after, you were in her dream with that same cat, your presence filling up her apartment and yours hands rising to cup her face so softly. You had the touch of an angel. When she woke, she was sweaty and breathless. She felt like she was going insane, dreaming of your touch when she hadn't even felt it yet. Jesus, Abby. Get a damn grip or you'll end up driving yourself crazy...

✧.* Two weeks later, Abby was playing cards with a few coworkers, laughing about some inside joke when her boss cleared his throat, catching her attention. In a gruff but not unfriendly voice as he always seemed to have, he told her that she was needed at his office. At first, she was terrified. What is she was being let go? She made okay money from her job, but she wasn't rich by any means. She wouldn't have enough to still afford her apartment.. Abby was now unusually nervous in a way that she didn't experience often. She always considered herself to her strong both physically and emotionally, but this was a tough situation to keep her composure in.

✧.* Abby was greeted with the sight of you sitting a chair placed against the wall, a tentative but sweet smile on your face. Her heart-rate began to speed up even more than it already was. Her boss spoke up behind her, wearing a tender smile. "She says she'd like to thank you," closing the door behind him. You took a deep breath. "I hope this isn't weird that I just..showed up at your job." Abby quickly shook her head, holding her hands out in a friendly gesture. "No, don't worry. Are you doing okay, though?" Her voice was laced with care, making your cheeks heat up. "Yeah. My parents, they're great people. I'm going to be staying with them until I'm able to afford a new place to stay." Abby smiled softly, for some reason the thought of your parents made her heart tender. "That's good to hear." The silence that followed wasn't exactly uncomfortable, and you couldn't help but get to the point. "Look.. I know it's your job and all, but you seriously saved me in a way I can't repay. I wasn't there, but Minka means everything to me." Your words almost brought tears to her eyes for some strange reason. Abby would like to find irritation in the way you made her so emotional at the flashback to your tears and sweet voice thanking her, calling her your hero, but she couldn't. "Well, I appreciate your gratitude. I don't hear that a lot," she admitted, and it was true. Abby had her friends and everyone in the community respected everyone who worked at the fire station, but she rarely heard appreciation like this. She knew that even if this was the last time she'd see you, your appreciation would stick with her. You looked genuinely shocked by that. "Well, I think you deserve so much appreciation. You put yourself at risk like that for my cat, and not everyone really cares for pets, you know?" Abby agreed with that statement, she knew it first-hand. Unfortunately when it came to rescues, pets weren't the priority. Your situation wasn't rare but it wasn't as common as others. "Well, I'm extremely glad I was able to save your cat. I can tell she's a sweet thing. Purred in my arms as I held her," she smiled as she recalled Minka's vibrations as as she was cradled in her arms. You laughed at that, your sweet smile only widening. "That means she likes you.." You trailed off, clearly meaning to say more. "Look...I feel like I owe you." Abby shook her head at that, her voice assuring. "Really, it's just my job to help in situations like that-" You cut her off, looking adamant, "Please? Just.. please, hear me out." She looked at your face, noting the look in your eyes. She slowly nodded. "I was thinking.. maybe I owe you a date?" Your voice, so sweet and friendly, rang in her ears. Date. You wanted a date with her? She didn't think much before she quickly accepted.

✧.* Abby, in her old ford pick-up truck, showed up at your parent's home with a bouquet of flowers. She didn't know what type was your favorite, so she went with white and pink roses. A little boring, but classics. It was a plus that the soft, pink petals reminded her of you.

✧.* When Abby was met with your parents at your front door, she felt like she was living out her old dreams of having a genuine high-school romance. Your folks were kind and thanked her for her rescue, even assuring her that she could come over anytime she'd like. Now, that made Abby a bit emotional. She was also emotional upon seeing the tiny black and white cat curled up on the living room couch, safe and content.

✧.* Abby and you just fit together well; the whole ride to the diner she wanted to bring you to went well. She told you riddles and made you laugh and in exchange, you offered up stories of Minka. You told her all about how she was a stray cat who would meow at your door for food and Abby's cheeks turned red thinking about you not hesitating to adopt a cat who had a hard childhood. She felt grateful that the sun was nowhere in the sky, only the moon and many stars so you couldn't see how flustered the thought made her.

✧.* Abby and you laughed away at dinner about countless memories the two of you could think of. Abby told you all about her friend-group and her own gay awakening. You only smiled and confessed that yours was a girl on the school soccer team at 13. Abby told you all about what happened with her parents, what her dreams were, even some of her fears. She didn't know why she felt the need to tell you all of this, but you only looked at her with sympathy and understanding, and you seemed to open up to her, too. For once, she felt understood.

✧.* After the two of you finished eating, you insisted that you pay since you somehow still owe her being her hero and now, apparently you owed her for the beautiful flowers, which you claimed were your favorite. Abby insisted that you needed to save your money after the incident and assured you that your time was payment enough. That made your heart jump out of your chest; how was she so intimidatingly-looking but the sweetest girl you'd ever met? You were in awe.

✧.* On the way home, you noticed an abandoned parking lot beside the highway, probably from an old gas station or restaurant and asked Abby to stop so that you could show her the constellations. She happily agreed, turning into the parking lot and putting her manual into park. She watched as you excitedly stepped out of her truck and laughed, quickly joining you to stand beside you.

✧.* Abby's face once again turned red and her palms grew sweaty when you interlocked your fingers with hers, gazing over to smile at her in the moonlight. Then, you ranted about the stars. You told her all about Orion, your favorite constellation. Abby was mesmerized by the way your found grew in pitch and how your words came out faster than usual when you got excited about something. Fuck, maybe you were already growing on her. She hoped you would like a second date after this. She'd spend all her money from her job on dates like these just to feel the intense pull you had surrounding you. She found herself hanging off of your every word, even though she was just some firefighter who knew nothing about astronomy.

✧.* When you finished your rant about the Big Dipper, she couldn't help herself. She spoke up, voice low and somewhat shy, "Hey.." You smiled and turned to face her, slightly caught off guard by her sudden words. "What's up?" She sighed. She needed to take this chance, you were like the girl of her dreams standing in front of her, ranting about something so cool. "Can I kiss you?" Butterflies hit your stomach, and you didn't hesitate to nod. Abby gently cupped your face and took her time to lean in. When her lips met yours, she swore the stars in the sky all increased in their luminosity.

✧.* Your lips were so soft and tasted like skittles, she thought it was the sweetest thing. Abby took her time to kiss you, not rushing the embrace but instead allowing herself to appreciate being able to kiss you like the two of you were the only people in the world. When she softly pulled away, breathless without even really kissing you that long, you pulled her in once more by the back of the neck and she eagerly parted her lips for you. The next kiss was more heated and passionate, leaving you pressed up against the side of her truck. Your tongue found hers and she moaned at the feeling. She didn't stop herself from taking your bottom lip into her mouth and giving it a soft suck. When you had to pull away for air this time, breathless and your face hot, Abby trailed her wet lips down your the column of your throat, her voice low and heated, "backseats?" And just like that, you were pulling at the truck's backdoor with a cheeky giggle.

✧.* The heated but passionate make-out session fogged up the windows but only turned into more. Soon, you were both naked in her backseat with your cunts making a noticeably loud squelching sound every time they met. It was the most emotional fuck of Abby's life. You couldn't stop leaving kisses all over her skin wherever you could reach, and she knew she could be guiding your hips to make the sensations even better, but all she really wanted to do was hold your hands and tell you how lucky she felt to have you like this, how beautiful you were. The truck was humid and cramped, and since it was the first time the awkward giggles and shaky hands were present, but Abby loved every single second of it. She was pretty sure her truck was moving along with them, but she couldn't care. She was only able to feel how your warm cunt ground against hers at the perfect angle to lavish sensations onto her clits, making her head spin with the need to have you as hers for as long as possible and her, yours.

✧.* The sex was desperate and made her lose her mind with the need to cum, but still slow. Tribbing itself is a lot of work but so very intimate that it can last longer if she needs it to, and she needed it to. She didn't want to stop feeling you like this. She never thought of herself as a vulgar person, but the feeling of your pussy, the way your breath hitched and you even let out soft moans of pleasure when your clit felt their actions only made her want you in the most intense ways.

✧.* The orgasm was the best one she had ever received. You were both moaning together and sweaty, waves of pleasured sharing you. She swore she felt a string connecting the both of you, not only your connected pussies but also your hearts. It wasn't like one singular snap between her legs, but an ongoing slaught of euphoria that she didn't think would ever end. Abby didn't want it to. She wished she could stay in that truck with you forever, just feeling your lips plastered over her skin and your hips meeting hers.

✧.* You didn't mind another round, and Abby happily spent the rest of the hour with her finger buried deep inside you and yours in her own cunt, gifting each other yet another beautiful orgasm. It wasn't exactly the same, your own curling of fingers onto her spongey walls at various paces and times while her own pace grew along with your moans, but it somehow caused the next peak to end up even more special as the first.

✧.* When it was over, it was 9 and Abby still had time to kill. She held you in her arms, legs tangled up together and for just a while, she forgot everything else but what just happened with you. She held you tightly to her and when you both came down from the after-math, you shared little laughs and Abby's voice came through so sweetly and somehow shy, even after all that happened. "Would you wanna do this again?" You laughed and kissed her cheek. "I dunno if I can handle another round, but I wish." She giggled, so sweetly and loving, "I meant another date, dumbass." At that, you sighed and squeezed her. "Oh, well that makes more sense. Yeah, I'd like another date."

#abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson #the last of us part 2 #abby the last of us #cheyisagirlkissermailbox #requests #dividers by v6que

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verstappen-cult · 1 year ago

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# PINING IN ANTICIPATION | MV1

Neither you nor Max know how it started but it made you feel better and that was enough for him.

Pairings: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader. Content Warnings: +18, cursing, smut, unprotected sex, cockwarming, a lot of feelings, hurt/comfort.

Gwen’s radio message. . . 💬 : okay, so, this was gonna be a porn without plot kinda drabble but this thing came out instead. please don’t expect anything fancy because i really suck at writing smut.

Max opens the door before you could even start to question yourself.

He’s surprised to see you knocking on his door at two in the morning. You start to regret coming to him when you see him rub the sleep from his eyes. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” You look down, choking on a sob. “Hey, hey, what happened?”

Max is by your side in a second, wrapping an arm around your waist to guide you inside his apartment. He doesn’t let you go until you’re sitting comfortable on the couch, tucking your legs beneath you.

“Did something happen?”

“Had an awful fight with mom,” You fidget with your fingers, the corners of your eyes already filled with tears. “she said really mean things.”

Max reaches out and grabs your hand, thumb caressing the inside of your wrist. It’s not the first time something like this has happened, he’s very familiar with the relationship you have with your mother because it is pretty much the same relationship he has with his father. Actually, when you first met, you bonded over the awful parents and experiences you had as kids.

“Couldn’t stay home alone.” You say, shyly. “I’m sorry for coming at this hour.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

The silence stretches between you two. Max looks carefully as you get lost inside your head, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. He can almost hear your thoughts. He knows what you need, the only thing that makes you feel better and gets you out of your head.

Max doesn’t know exactly how it happened. One moment you’re in the brink of an anxiety attack and then, in the blink of an eye, you’re sitting on his cock, face buried into the side of his neck as he rubbed your back up and down.

It wasn’t sex because you didn't kiss, there wasn’t some awfully awkward dirty talk and neither of you came at the end — well, not that you know. If Max had to lock himself in the bathroom after you fell asleep because he was still so painfully hard, it’s definitely not something you need to know; he still feels disgusting and will take that secret to the grave.

You didn’t talk to each other for at least two weeks after that. Max wanted to reach out but you were ignoring him, and he wanted to give you space to sort your head out. And when one day you sat down next to him and started to apologize and ramble about not wanting to lose him because he’s just so important in your life, Max was finally able to relax because you were fine. Everything was fine.

You had a long conversation. And it was that day when Max learnt that what you did was called cockwarning and it was actually something people do to feel better. For you, it was about feeling physically as well as emotionally close with the other person, so, that is why it was so easy for you to do it with Max, you felt safe and you trust him. You also explain to him how, when things are just too much, feeling that deep pressure inside of you as well as the warmth emanating from a body under yours is, somehow, enough to stop your mind from reeling with questions, and feelings, and emotions.

Max actually googled it. He opened an incognito tab and typed the words. He doesn’t know how much time he spent reading about experiences and actual studies about something that he had never heard of before. But it was like you said—many people do it because they feel safe that way, others because they don't want to think and it’s the only way they can relax and go into something called sub-space — Max didn’t do research on that because it was too much information and he just couldn’t handle it — while others do it just because they like it, no real meaning behind.

You promised it wouldn’t happen again.

And, well, you should’ve known better.

After the second time, you came to an agreement. Max would help you because he’s that good of a friend and cares about you. And because he didn’t want you to be looking for somebody else who could help you if you already felt safe with him.

He never found it weird, and you appreciate that.

So, now everytime you feel overwhelmed and can’t get out of your head on your own, Max is there to help you. Even if all you want is to just sit on somebody’s cock and pass the time, relax. He doesn’t care.

It’s good that after the second time he was able to gain some control and not embarrass himself and you in the process. Max still feels like, one way or another, he’s taking advantage of you and you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve had to assure him that it is not like that and if you ever feel uncomfortable you will tell him.

“Y/N?” He rubs the palm of your hand but you don’t look at him. You don’t react, not when he lets go of your hand and kneels in front of you and not even when he cups your cheek with his hands. “Hey, Y/N, I need you to get out of that pretty head of yours. Could you do that for me?” Max sighs in relief when he finally sees your gaze focusing on his face after what feels like hours. “There we go, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The corners of your mouth go up to form a sad smile.

“You need my help?” Max asks, thumbs caressing your cheekbones. You nod, but that isn't enough. “You know we don’t work like that. I need words.”

It’s not the first time that the way he speaks to you sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve just become pretty good at ignoring it.

“Yes,” You breathe out, closing your eyes to center yourself and stop the whine threatening to leave your lips. “I need you.”

“Good,” He almost says Good girl, but holds his tongue. “You want to go to the bedroom?”

You shake your head. You don’t feel strong enough to walk there. “No, it’s okay. We can do it here.” You say in a small voice. “I’m really sorry for coming. “I’m fine, okay? I just need to relax an—”

“Hey, don’t, okay? I told you to come to me when you needed me. Night or day.” He reassures you, but you still feel like crying. “You think you can wait for me? I need to go get something.”

“No! Wha—why?”

Max tries not to laugh but you’re pouting and he finds it cute. “I need to get the lube,” Your pupils are wide and a faint bush covers your cheeks, because he doesn’t finger you to help make things easier, even though he has said he’s okay with it, you’re not. “I’ll be back in a second.” He leans to leave a kiss on your forehead before dissapearing.

You hide your face in your hands, breathing in and breathing out just like your therapist taught you. Only when you feel like you won’t pass out, you decide to speed things up by removing your jeans.

You don’t like feeling like this. It’s almost comical that after all this time, knowing how your mother is and how always will be, she still has so much power over you. A few mean words and you are ten years old again. You can’t hate her, she’s your mother after all, but you’ve tried, only God knows how much you’ve tried to hate her and not come back running back to her when she tells you some nice things. It’s a vicious cycle that not even with therapy you’ve been able to stop.

When Max comes back he finds you sitting on the couch only in your underwear. You avoid making eye contact, feeling a little embarrassed for not wearing your cute lingerie. You chastise yourself for going there because this is not about sex, and it’s definitely not the first time that Max has seen you like this.

When you look up, he’s already watching you. “You okay?” You nod, not trusting your voice.

You break eye contact when Max moves his hands toward the waistband of his sweatpants.

“You need help?”

You see Max smiling from the corner of your eyes. “No, I already took care of that.”

Max is quick to shove his sweatpants down his thighs and join you on the couch. He pats his thighs and opens his arms for you, and you’re immediately moving to straddle his lap. You steady yourself grabbing Max’s shoulders, hovering over his lap and looking up to the ceiling as he busies himself opening the lube and dripping some over his cock.

Your heart skips several beats as you look down to find him stroking himself to spread the lube. You’ve seen him do the same thing at least four times but you still feel like passing out every time you see his big and skilled hand move. Not for the first time you let yourself wonder how would his fingers feel inside of you.

Max grabs your waist with one hand and uses the other to run the tip of his cock through your folds. You close your eyes and stop breathing as he, finally and slowly, sinks into you. You bite your lips trying to get used to the stretch, Max rubs circles on your lower back as he lets you adjust. You’ve done this quite a few times but you’re still not used to it.

“You can—” You sigh, opening your eyes but Max is not looking at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He focuses his attention back on you, and smiles. You try to smile but your expression changes when you move all the way down, a whimper leaving your lips at finally having his cock buried deep inside of you.

Max groans, grabbing your waist with more force than normal before letting go and, instead, grabbing the cushions by his sides.

You lose the grip and wrap your arms around his neck, immediately resting your head on his shoulder and relaxing against his body. “Thank you.”

Max makes a weird noise, but you feel him nod. He lifts his hands and places them on your waist, fingers already caressing your back, sides and neck.

Max turns his head just enough to be able to leave a kiss on your cheek before going back to his initial position. He reaches for the remote and turns on the TV, choosing to put on some comedy film as a background.

The only thing you can feel and think about is his cock inside of you, making you feel so full, and the warmth emanating from his body, grounding you and, at the same time, making you feel like you’re floating around. There are no bad thoughts, you’re not thinking about the fight you had with your mom anymore.

You’re not actually too lost inside your head, the walk to Max apartment helped you clear your mind a bit. You’re still a little shocked by the words and things your mother did, definitely, but once you reached Max building, you were feeling a lot better. If you ended up coming up anyway, well, Max offered to let you sit on his cock overwhelmed or not and you wouldn’t let that offer pass. You don’t know how much time you have together because one of these days Max can find a girlfriend and you will have to go out and look for somebody as understanding as your friend.

The mere thought of Max with another girl makes you want to throw up. So, you shut your thoughts off.

You don’t know how much time passes, but your legs start to feel numb and your back hurts, so you shift your weight which makes Max whine, cock twitching inside of you.

“Sorry.” You whisper, stopping your movements.

“No, it’s—just,” Max closes his eyes tightly, and you can see a drop of sweat slipping down his forehead. “You just—” He groans, unable to say what he so badly wants.

You move from your place on his shoulder, eyebrows raised in confusion. “What?”

“Nothing,” Max’s voice is hoarse and the smiles he gives you don't reach his eyes. “Just—lie back down, come on.” He pats your back but you don’t move.

“Max, tell me.” He shakes his head, dropping his head on your shoulder. “Max, it’s me.”

He sighs, straightening up. His sudden movement makes you both moan.

“It’s just that,” He takes a deep breath and looks you straight in the eye. “You feel really good.”

His confession makes you want to close your legs which, for obvious reasons, you can’t. You feel your face burning but try to play it cool, like his words didn't have an effect on you.

“Well, I mean, your cock is inside of me,”

Max's laugh is strained. “Yeah… I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable because of this. If you want we can stop and I—”

“Max,” You cup his jaw, feeling the stubble under your palm. “I’m good.”

Max closes his eyes again, this time letting his head fall backwards against the couch. “You know the first time we did this,” He swallows, and you’re mesmerized by the way his Adam's apple bobs. How would it feel to kiss it? “I, God I can’t believe I’m going to say this out loud.”

“Max, come on. Just say it.” You let your fingers fall from his jaw all the way to his neck, just above his Adam’s apple. You can feel under your fingertips how it moves when he swallows again.

“You will think I’m a perv,” He opens one eye, when you smile reassuringly he opens both. “Please don’t think I’m some kind of pervert but… I had to lock myself in the bathroom to,” He shrugs, doing the movement with his fist.

“What?” You tilt your head.

“To jerk off!” He says, frustrated. One of his hands leaves your waist to put it over his eyes.

You blink at Max.

He looks back at you between his fingers.

His confession makes you feel that something you’ve been trying to ignore ever since that first night.

“That is totally normal.” You don’t want him to feel bad, so reassuring him that it’s okay is actually the only thing you can do. “As I said, you’re buried inside of me, if you didn’t feel anything then that’s a problem.”

Max sounds a little more relaxed when he laughs again.

But then there’s silence and eye contact. The only sound in the room coming from the TV and your heavy breathing.

You feel that shiver running down your spine again, desire pooling in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m sorry, I’m making this all awkward.”

“No, no. It’s good.”

Max raises his eyebrows in question.

You decide not to answer with words. Instead, you shift your hips, Max cock impossible deep inside of you.

“Oh fuck,” Max groans, closing his eyes tightly. His hands grab the cushion by his sides again but you want those hands on your waist, your breasts, all over your body.

“Max,” You whine, grabbing at his shoulder and feeling how tense he is.

“It’s okay,” He breathes in and out, just like you were doing not so long ago. “it’s okay. I’m sorry.”

You frown, “Max.” You try calling his name again, when he opens his eyes you can see how much his eyes have darkened.

Max sucks in a sharp breath when you steady yourself by grabbing his shoulders to lift yourself up, pulling almost all the way out and letting yourself fall back down. Max’s moan is obscene.

“I’m sorry, sorry, oh God, I’m sorry,” You babble, hiding behind your hands. What the fuck are you doing? “I didn’t mean to.”

“Hey,” He calls your attention, taking your hands and pulling them away from your face. Max cups your jaw guiding your face to look at him. “You want this? I need you to tell me because,” Max gaze falls to your mouth and he brushes your bottom lip with the pad of his finger. “I want to fuck you so bad.”

You nod, but then remember that he likes to hear you. “Yes,” That’s all Max need because he’s wrapping his arms around your waist, almost hugging you, and lifting you to pull out and then fuck back in. It nearly leaves you breathless.

You gasp, grabbing onto him for dear life. It’s inevitable for you to look down and watch how his cock pulls out and then back inside, stretching you so good.

“Look at me,” Max says, grinding his cock deep inside of you. And you have no choice but to look back up at him. The expression of pure pleasure on his face makes you clench around him, which takes another obscene moan out of him.

He feels so good.

You want to tell him how good he feels. How good he’s fucking you but you’re only capable of incoherent sounds, moans and whimpers.

“Max,” You choke on a moan. One hand leaves your waist and slips under your shirt to pinch at one of your nipples. You actually have to put a hand over your mouth to avoid screaming.

“I want to hear you. Please, let me hear you.” Max practically begs and how could you deny him that? The next time he does it, you let him hear you. And probably the whole building too. “Good girl.” Your cunt squeezes him tightly as he rolls his hips into yours. “You like that, don’t you? You like being my good girl?”

“Yes, yes,” If you had the strength you would be bouncing on his cock, but you can barely hold onto him as he fucks you nice and hard. “Max, Max.” His name falls like a mantra from your lips. The squelching sound of him pounding into you, mixed with the moans and groans fills the air around you.

“You feel so good— fuck, so fucking tight.” Max groans into your ear. His thrusts are deep and rough, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head and nails dig into his skin, knowing you’ll leave marks that will last days.

Max leans closer and licks a stripe of sweat from your neck and, somehow, is enough to make you hit your peak. You walls clench around him, like you’re actually trying to suck the life out of him.

“Max, Max I’m so close,” At this point you don’t even know if you’re whispering or screaming, but Max hears you either way.

Max expertly finds your clit and, right on cue, your orgasm comes crashing upon you, warmth washing all over your body as Max keeps on fucking you, searching for his own release.

“That’s my girl,” Max breathes out, movements faltering. “I’m gonna come, fuck, gonna come inside of you.” Max feels his orgasm like he’s experiencing it for the very first time, like he was waiting for this moment his whole life. And he probably was, really.

Max squeezes his eyes shut, hips stuttering and your name falling from his lips as he spills inside of you. Your whole body gives up. You’re glad Max is there to hold you close to his body. He pants in your neck, both of you trying to catch your breath and thinking about what the hell has just happened?

“Did so good for me, sweetheart.” He whispers, leaving a kiss behind your ear. He doesn’t move more than to settle against the cushions with you on top of him and his cock still buried inside of you. And you feel so dizzy and stuffed full of his cum that the only rational thing you think about doing is to lift your head and kiss him.

Max whines into the kiss. He doesn’t care that the kiss is messy because you can’t coordinate and are so tired you feel your body going limp, but he lets you kiss him until you need to catch your breath.

He smiles softly at you. “That was good, uh? I bet you don’t even remember why you came here in the first place.”

“Oh, shut up!” Max likes making you blush, so he won’t ever shut up.

“You know,” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, fingers lingering on your neck. “You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I always wanted to—“ He sighs, and you lean into his touch. Max feels like his heart is about to explode. “I didn’t think I could ever have a chance with you.”

“What are you talking about?” You squeak because surely he doesn’t mean what he’s saying. Because that would mean—

“I’m saying that you are,” He kisses your cheek. “the most,” Now, he places a kiss on your chin. “beautiful, and smart, and sexy,” Max leaves kisses all over your face. “girl I’ve ever seen in my life.” Finally, his lips find yours, but it’s quick and not enough. You want to keep kissing him for the rest of your life.

“Max,” You whisper, tears in the corners of your eyes. “You—I,” You groan, letting your head fall against his forehead. “You know I’ve been crazy for you my whole life, right?”

“No, that I did not know.” He’s teasing you, you hear it in his voice. “Well, maybe I had my suspicions.”

“Max! You never say anything?” A thought crosses your mind and you feel mortified. “I feel like I took advantage of you now.”

“What did you say to me? You would’ve told me if you weren’t comfortable. And I would’ve done the same thing.” You pout and Max can’t help but think, again, that you’re the most beautiful girl in the entire world. “When all of this cockwarming thing happened, I thought it was the only way I could be close to you. And I was helping you in the process, so I was more than happy with being just that.”

“I didn’t keep coming back to you because of my feelings,” You start saying, playing with the collar of his shirt. “but because I’ve always felt safe with you. I knew—I know I can trust you. I mean, that became clear when you offered to let me sit on your cock the first time.”

“I did not do that!”

“You totally did!” You laugh with your whole body because you’re that happy. But that makes you shift your hips which makes you wince at feeling Max softening cock still inside of you.

“You good? It wasn’t… too much?” He sounds insecure, you see it on his face too. It’s cute.

“It was pretty good, Max. If not I wouldn’t have let you fuck me.” Max rolls his eyes, chuckling, and you rest your head on his shoulder one more time.

“You want me to pull out?”

“No, just—hold me, okay?” Max makes a pleasing sound, lips finding your temple.

“Always.”

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #max verstappen smut #max verstappen fluff #f1 grid x reader

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harryslittlefreakk · 8 months ago

Text

the one

summary: y/n runs into the last person she ever expected to see in the last place she ever expected to see him, bringing old feelings & hurt to the surface. based on the prompt: childhood friends to lovers

warnings: light angst, made up town, CHEESY writing, smut that’s more making love than fucking

wordcount: 4.7k

a/n: hi guys 💘 long time no see!!! GO EASY on me im rusty!!!

masterlist

The heavy wooden door creaked as it swung shut behind you, sealing out the bitter November wind with a low groan. Inside, the warm glow of amber lights bathed the room, casting long shadows over the oak bar and a few worn leather stools scattered around it. The air was thick with the scent of aged whiskey and a faint hint of wood smoke. A couple of locals sat quietly at a table near the back, their low voices blending with the soft hum of an old jukebox playing a slow, bluesy tune.

“Thank God,” you muttered, the day’s tension melting from your face as the warm air settled around you. You let your head roll back, savoring the first reprieve from the cold. The chill that had reddened your cheeks and numbed your fingers slowly eased, the warmth brushing over your skin.

Winter was settling into Windermere, and you’d never gotten used to it. Your parents found a strange charm in the grey skies and biting winds, bundling up and going about their routines. But for you, it felt suffocating. Each year, November swept in like an unwelcome guest, forcing the town to become even smaller, with people huddled indoors, glancing suspiciously at anyone passing by.

The town seemed cloaked in silence, broken only by the crackle of fires and the crunch of frozen leaves underfoot. It was a season that left no room for secrets, not when every movement was magnified in the stillness. With everyone tucked away, the chances of slipping by unnoticed were slim, forcing your teenage rebellion to thrive in only the rarest pockets of solitude, under the cover of long, dark nights.

“Please, just something hot,” you said, voice weary as you rubbed your hands together, trying to coax warmth back into them.

The bartender eyed you for a moment, one eyebrow raised in amusement as he planted his hands on the bar.

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you,” he mused, reaching down to grab another glass.

Your head snapped up so quickly that your neck clicked, and you rubbed the sore spot as a frown knit your brow. You’d recognize that voice anywhere. He was older, scruffier, and somehow more devastatingly handsome than the last time you’d seen him. You blinked a few times, half-expecting him to be some kind of apparition conjured by the cold. But he was real. Your Harry was really standing in front of you, in the last place you’d ever thought you’d find him.

“I didn’t- I tried to find you,” you stammered, your voice catching as your gaze drifted over him.

He was taller now, his once-wild curls a little more tamed. Those same green eyes that seemed to cut straight through into your soul. His sweater clung just enough to his arms to hint at the strength beneath, and tattoos traced up both arms in intricate, dark patterns, curling from his wrists to disappear under the fabric, each one telling a story of the years he'd spent without you.

The decade you’d missed was written across him in lines and ink, yet somehow, seeing him now made you feel like that eighteen-year-old again, waiting for her best friend to realize he loved her too.

“If you’d looked hard enough, you would have,” Harry muttered, his eyes trailing over your face, taking in the flush of cold still lingering on your cheeks. Your lips pressed into a tight line as you dropped your gaze to the worn wood of the bar. You couldn’t tell him that you hadn’t found him because you hadn’t wanted to.

He was a reminder of a version of yourself you’d left behind - a girl who thought she had to earn love instead of knowing she deserved it.

He stood there, still holding the empty glass, his gaze traveling over every inch of you he could see. His eyes lingered on your hands for a moment, his expression hardening before he turned away.

Even through his sweater, you could see his back muscles tense, a reminder of just how much had changed. The unmistakable clink of ice hitting glass sent an involuntary chill down your spine, though you blamed it on the cold draft from the door. But deep down, you knew it was Harry’s presence that stirred something old and haunting within you.

He turned back to you after a few minutes, setting a mug of hot cocoa down in front of you. His hand was steady, but there was an unmistakable tension in his shoulders as he slid the glass toward you.

"Exactly how we used to have it. On the house," he said, voice low, eyes flicking briefly to meet yours before returning to a spot just over your shoulder. You hesitated, your fingers wrapping around the glass, the warmth dancing across your skin.

“Christ. Thanks,” you murmured, taking a sip. The burn of whiskey flooded your throat, a welcome contrast to the chill that had settled deep in your bones.

He still didn’t say anything, didn’t ask what you’d been doing all these years. Didn’t ask why you’d come back. There was a time when you were sure he’d have asked, a time when he would have read every expression, every flicker in your eyes as easily as a page in a book. But now, the silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, woven from years of things left unsaid.

"Heard you were getting married,” Harry said finally, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear. The words were hesitant, almost vulnerable, but his eyes had a guarded edge, as if they were holding back an ocean of questions. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, almost as if to steady himself.

“Not anymore,” you told him with a soft shake of your head, your voice barely carrying over the soft hum of the jukebox. You couldn’t help the way your eyes drifted over him, noting the subtle lines at the corners of his eyes, the quiet weight he seemed to carry now, like shadows that hadn’t been there before. He was still Harry - but this version of him was one you didn’t know. Or maybe it was you who didn’t know herself anymore.

“Sorry.”

“I didn’t know you stayed here, Harry.”

It was true. You didn’t know anything about him. You’d never asked your parents, though they would definitely be privy to what was going on in his life. They knew that whatever had or hadn’t happened between the two of you had contributed to the way you left, so they had made no attempt to keep you updated.

“I didn’t. Came back for my grandma’s funeral and the pub was about to be sold to a chain but no one could afford to take it on. So I did,” he shrugged, his eyes dropping to his feet as he spoke.

You sat back a little, memories of afternoons spent at this very pub flooding your mind. Trying to sneak notes out of the tip jar, Harry coercing his grandma to pass you both shots. “She loved it here,” you whispered, a soft smile on your lips as you traced a finger along the bar. “I had no idea she passed Harry. I’m so sorry.”

“Forty years of her life behind this bar,” Harry nodded solemnly, his jaw tense. “I couldn’t let it go.”

There was a glimmer of the Harry you knew when he said that. It was the part of him that first drew you in. He was cheeky, stubborn, but his loyalty to his family was unmatched. Beneath the external rebellion, he was sentimental and kind, the first to fiercely defend any of his loved ones, the last to leave one behind.

You had no idea how you’d ended up so disconnected from him. You’d only spent five minutes in his presence, but it felt like the first five minutes you’d ever spent with him.

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. The silence was loaded, more meaningful than any small talk you could have tried to fill it with. It felt as though one wrong word would break whatever fragile truce had settled between you.

Finally, Harry sighed, leaning his forearms against the bar, hands fidgeting with a bottle cap, rolling it over and over between his fingers.

“You left,” he said softly, as if the words themselves had been weighing him down. “And I waited, you know? For a while. I thought you’d come back. And then, when you didn’t…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

There was a long pause, each word sinking heavily in the quiet room, reverberating through you. You felt a pang of guilt - maybe shame - at hearing his side of it laid bare, the rawness in his voice making it hard to breathe.

“I didn’t know how to exist here,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt flimsy, inadequate, but they were all you had. “I needed to figure out how to do it on my own.”

“And did you?” he asked, something sharp and almost accusing in his tone.

You hesitated, because you weren’t sure how to answer that. Had you? The years had passed, but you weren’t sure you’d changed as much as you thought you would. You’d found your independence, learned to stand on your own - but there was still a part of you that had never let him go, that had held onto the version of Harry you’d left behind.

“I don’t know,” you said finally, the words tasting bitter. “I thought being back here would answer that for me.”

You turned away from him, your heart pounding as you glanced around the pub, taking it in. “It’s changed a lot in here,” you mumbled, never feeling less at home than you did in that moment.

“The whole town has changed.” Harry shrugged, his jaw tense as his eyes followed yours.

The atmosphere had shifted when you turned back to face him, an unmistakable tension settling between you. Harry’s gaze was hard, guarded and defensive, like he was bracing himself against something.

“That’s not a good reason to leave.”

“What?”

“That’s not a good reason to leave,” he repeated, arms folding over his chest. “Are you staying?”

“For now.”

“You hurt a lot of people,” he continued, his tone harsh, bitterness dripping from each word.

“I spent my entire teenage years thinking about everyone else. Selfishness isn’t a crime,” you shot back, pushing your empty mug towards him.

“It’s not. But that doesn’t stop it hurting people.”

You narrowed your eyes, leaning your forearms against the bar. “People, or you?”

Harry looked past you at the last patrons filing out, circling around the bar to see them out and lock the door behind them. The silence was thick, stretching through the distance between you.

“People,” he answered finally, those green eyes not quite meeting yours. How had it gotten to a point where you openly lied to each other? A tiny part of you thought that if you ever crossed paths again, you’d fall into your old routine, Harry with the cheeky grin and bad ideas, you with the doe eyes and willingness to follow his every move.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” you mumbled, pushing yourself off the stool.

“No.”

“What?”

“No.” Harry stalked back to the bar, a heavy hand slamming a bottle of whiskey down in front of you. “Have a drink with me, and tell me the truth. You owe me that much.”

You swallowed hard, your body tensing as he sat down next to you. “The truth?”

“Whatever was so bad that you had to leave without even saying goodbye.” His eyes were dark as you looked up at him, his fingers drumming against the bar.

“It’s not even important anymore,” you sighed, feeling the lie settle heavy in your chest. You took a swig of the whiskey, shivering as the heat slipped down your throat, trying to steady yourself. But he was watching you too closely, reading you like an open book. Before you could react, he tugged the bottle from your hands, his chin dropping to his chest.

"Pull the other one," he said, voice low. "Whatever happened kept you away for a decade. Did someone hurt you?"

You almost laughed, bitter and tired. He was looking at you now, his gaze sharp and searching, like he was ready to drag the truth out of you no matter what it cost. But you were lost in your own head, your eyes tracing the tattoos winding down his forearms, lingering on the familiar lines and symbols. He was exactly the man you had always imagined he’d become - steady, solid, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. But you had never expected to see it like this, up close, with your own eyes.

You reached for the whiskey, snatching it back from him and knocking it back with a grimace. “It was you, Harry.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, raw and unguarded. “Fuck. I realized I’d put my whole life on hold, waiting for you to notice me.”

He froze, his hand suspended in the air, and for a second, there was no sound but the creak of the barstool as he shifted, the slow tick of the clock on the wall. He scratched his head, his eyes falling shut as your words sank in. You could see him wrestling with it, with everything that had been left unsaid all these years.

“And running away was better than just telling me?” His voice was softer now, hurt creeping into the edges, and it made something twist painfully in your chest.

You shook your head, feeling a thousand things you could never say. “How was I supposed to tell you? Hi, Harry, my good friend, I love you, and I’m about to devote my life to you.”

“Something like that,” he muttered, a faint, bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He ran a hand through his hair, shoulders slumping as he finally met your eyes. The silence stretched again, thick with years of missed chances and the weight of what could’ve been.

You both sat there, lost in the quiet. It felt fragile, this moment, like the whole world could split open with one wrong word.

“It wasn’t just that,” you muttered, watching your feet swinging under the stool. “I couldn’t exist here anymore. It gets to a point where it’s suffocating.”

“But you really couldn’t just tell me?”

You met his gaze, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks, your face hot with the blush that spread across your skin. His dark eyes held you, unblinking, and the weight of everything unspoken made your heart pound. He leaned forward, the faintest crease appearing between his brows, as if he was bracing himself for something he’d waited too long to hear. You tried to look away, tried to hide the vulnerability in your expression, but his gaze was unrelenting, drawing the words out of you.

“I don’t wanna talk about it anymore,” you said, voice tight with restraint. You tried to keep your tone casual, but you could feel the way it trembled, betraying you.

“Why?” he asked, leaning closer, his face serious. His jaw clenched, a flicker of frustration in his eyes that he tried to temper. It was like he already knew what you were going to say, yet he needed to hear it from you, needed confirmation for the ache that had been buried under years of silence.

You took a shaky breath, steeling yourself. “It’s embarrassing, H.” Your eyes darted away, unable to face the intensity of his gaze. “I changed my whole life because of a crush. I moved somewhere where no one knew me because I was scared of everyone here knowing me too well. I got engaged to the first man I properly loved, and he still didn’t match up to you.”

Harry’s face softened, but he looked pained, his lips parting as though to speak. The vulnerability in his expression was raw, his shoulders stiffened with all the things he had wanted to say, to ask. But when he reached for you, you placed a hand over his, silencing him for a little while longer.

“I thought about you every day for ten years,” you said, feeling the words tear from your throat, your eyes bright with unspilled tears. “And now we’re just sitting here like strangers. Do you get that?”

He let out a bitter laugh, a rough, quiet sound that cut through the stillness. He leaned forward, elbows braced against the bar as if he needed the support to hold himself together. “Do I get it?” he repeated, his voice low and raw, his brows drawn in with years of buried pain. “I’ve lived the same ten years as you, except I didn’t get the privilege of knowing where the fuck you went or why.”

He looked down at your hand over his, and his fingers slowly closed around yours, his grip warm and strong. He was still, tension held tight in the curve of his shoulders, in the soft way his thumb brushed against the back of your hand, as if afraid the moment might slip away. He shifted closer, the space between you shrinking, and his other hand rose slowly to your face, cupping your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin.

“What the hell are you doing?” you whispered, breath catching in your throat. You could feel your pulse quicken, every nerve alight with the nearness of him, with the intensity in his eyes, softening into something tender, something hesitant and aching.

“What I should’ve done years ago,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned in, his eyes searching yours until the last second, like he was giving you a chance to pull away, to stop him. But you didn’t. His lips met yours, hesitant and gentle, as though he were savoring every second, every taste. You could feel him melt into the kiss, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. The moment you kissed him back, he exhaled against you, letting go of some tightly held breath, and the kiss deepened, grew more urgent. His hands moved down to your waist, strong and steady, pulling you closer against him. You could feel the heat between you, the years of longing pouring into this single kiss.

When he finally pulled away, his breaths came rough and shallow. Without a word, he tugged his sweater over his head, baring his skin, the tattoos winding over his chest and arms like stories you’d never gotten to read. Your fingers traced along them, the tip of your nail gliding over the ink, and you could feel his pulse quicken under your touch.

He smiled faintly, but his expression grew serious again as he leaned down, brushing his lips along the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. His arms wrapped around you, his hands sliding down to your hips, lifting you up onto the bar with ease. You gasped softly, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist as he tugged your skirt up, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

In that moment, you were no longer strangers. His face softened, his eyes warm and almost reverent as he looked at you, a quiet promise in his touch that maybe, finally, there was nothing left between you but the truth.

Harry’s mouth found your inner thigh, his teeth clamping down on the sensitive skin. “That’s for leaving me behind,” he murmured, his breath warm against the sting. He moved to the other one, his teeth nipping at you for a second time. “And that’s for making me wait a fucking decade.”

Your breath comes out in shallow moans, your hands planted on his shoulders. That damn butterfly tattoo, the one he’d always told you he would get, almost taking flight as he pants against you, his eyes darkened with lust.

He leaned in closer to your core as you widened your legs, his nose nudging against the wet spot on your panties.

“Ten fucking years,” he repeated, his voice husky. He looked up at you with a plea in his eyes, waiting for you to allow or deny his next move.

“Please,” you whispered, your hips bucking against him as he reached out, pulling your panties aside with a quick hand.

Your gaze landed on the window, the dim lights practically inviting passers-by to peep inside and catch you in the act. But when Harry’s mouth found your slick, you couldn’t bring yourself to care, for the first time in your life - whether you became the town gossip or not.

His movements were rough and unrelenting, his fingers spreading you open as his tongue flicked against your clit, appreciative murmurs vibrating against your skin.

As if he could read your mind, his thumb took over the pressure on your clit, rubbing circles against the nerves as you writhed. His tongue licked at your slick with an intensity you’d never know before, his free hand slipping under your jumper to grip at the curve of your waist. Tingles spread from his touch, the lust taking over your body as pressure built in your core.

Without warning, Harry pulled away, pulling your legs around his waist as he stood up. A needy whine fell from your lips as your high dissipated, the soft skin of his abs rubbing against your entrance.

“You made me wait. You can’t handle it now?” he murmured, his lips warm against your neck, the whiskey still hot on his breath.

He took the stairs two at a time, the ancient wood creaking under his feet. You looked around the apartment as Harry weaved through the dark, brushing against tables and knocking over a stray glass, too focused to care. The room smelled faintly of him - whiskey, smoke, and that earthy, familiar scent you couldn’t place. It was messy, cluttered with books and clothes, but your heart warmed with an odd sense of belonging the moment you crossed the threshold. Your clothes came off at some point during the journey, a trail of knits and underwear reminiscent of Hansel and Gretel’s, but one that would only lead you to the person you were before you knew how it felt to be fucked by Harry Styles.

He stumbled slightly, caught himself, and half-laughed, his hands steady on you as he dropped you onto the bed. You landed with a gentle bounce, your heart racing, heat building in your chest. You needed to pinch yourself in case it was all a sick dream. All those days of stolen glances and lingering touches that meant nothing and everything, all those years wondering where he was and what lucky woman hadn’t run away from him.

For all those years, you’d told yourself he was stuck in your head because of the what ifs. What if you stayed, what if you’d forged a life together, what if you hadn’t acted on hormone-driven impulses.

Harry was intense, magnetic in a way that made it impossible to look away, but the idea of actually being with him had always felt like a distant dream. And yet, there he was, breathing ragged and close, his weight settling beside you, hands resting on either side of your head as he held you in place with a gaze that felt as if it could unravel you.

“You really want this, don’t you?” he asked, voice low and edged with that same maddening confidence that had drawn you to him in the first place. His tone was challenging, almost taunting, but there was something vulnerable lurking in his eyes.

You took a breath, feeling a knot in your chest loosen as you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Always have.”

His smirk softened for a moment, something unreadable flickering across his face, and you could sense the weight of all the things he’d never said hanging thick in the air. He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours, and this time, there was nothing held back - no restraint, no hesitation. Just an undeniable pull between you, finally given permission to break free.

“One condition,” Harry rasped, leaning down to press kisses across your bare chest. “When you leave, you keep in contact this time.”

“I will, Harry. I swear. If I leave,” you grinned up at him, your nails scratching at the base of his head.

A low chuckle escaped his lips as he traced a path down to your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin. “If?” he murmured, his voice thick with a mix of amusement and disbelief. He pulled back slightly, catching your gaze with a look that was both playful and deadly serious. “I’m not planning on giving you a reason to run.”

You felt the weight of his words, the lost time between you settling heavy in the air. He wasn’t going to make it easy.

“I won’t this time, I promise,” you whispered, fingers tightening around his neck, pulling his lips to yours, praying your kiss would convey how deeply sure you were.

Harry looked at you for a long moment when he pulled away, studying your face as if trying to memorize every detail, as though he wasn’t sure you’d really stay.

His eyes dropped to your tits as he reached down to stroke his cock, pulling his lower lip into his mouth as his thumb grazed over the wet slit.

You pawed at him impatiently, biting back the whimpers that threatened to spill out of you as he lined himself up at your entrance with one last look into your eyes.

You felt your life altering in front of you, your trajectory changing to what it could’ve been a decade before, fate pulling you and Harry back onto the same path, the one your should’ve always been on.

But when he pushed himself into you, that familiar pressure tinged with pain, the feeling of being filled like his cock was the missing fucking piece - your mind was clear. You wrapped yourself around him, your body fighting to be as close to him as possible, your moans syncing to his thrusts.

“Harry,” you whimpered, mouth falling open as his free hand found your clit again, drawing your body back to how close it had been to climax.

“I know, baby girl. I know,” he rasped, his voice strained as he fucked into you, his thumb unrelenting as it worked at your bud, his strong body overpowering yours.

Your hips bucked into him, your legs starting to quiver around his waist as you writhed and jerked, your moans mixing with the deafening slaps of skin-on-skin contact.

“It’s mine, this is mine,” Harry growled, his possession tipping you over the edge. His. That was all you’d ever wanted to be.

Your orgasm came on strong, your body tingling and tensing from your head to your toes, your fingers clamping around his shoulders, your back arched into his chest.

Your walls were fluttering around him, your pussy desperate to milk him for all he had.

His thrusts grew sloppier, his control slipping as he stared down at you, committing the image of your high to memory, the first thing he’d want his mind to see when he woke, the last thing he’d see before sleeping. His hand slipped under you to the curve of your ass, angling your hips to allow him deeper, his cock hitting spaces you didn’t even know you had.

“This is just the warm up,” he grunted, pulling his cock from you at the last minute, his come spilling onto your chest, your lips curling into a smirk.

“I think there’ll be plenty more of that,” you whispered, pulling his lips back onto yours, barely unable to kiss him with the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

mehhh i don’t know about this one … but ive been itching to post something 👉🏼👈🏼🥹

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#harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry edward styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harryslittlefreakk #harry styles masterlist

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doomdaddytop · 9 days ago

Note

I LOVED ONE LAST TIME!!! can we please get a thanos fic where him and the reader take the pills together?

BATHROOM & PILLS

THANOS/SU-BONG X FEMALE READER

summary: you and thanos connect by taking a small detour to the bathroom when the lights are out. just innocent talking leads to something more and helps you relieve some stress.

WARNINGS: swearing, drugs, slight smut, thanos being himself.

A/N: sorry this took so long! i started writing this part offline and i kept disappearing, so i had to rewrite it so many times. i did my best. hope you all like it :)

it was hard to ignore su-bong. he was everywhere and anywhere. he stuck out easily in a crowd, purple hair and his tall frame already familiar to you. su-bong had some kind of superpower that always made you look for him in a room full of people. even before you were introduced to him, you would always spot him, unconsciously remembering where he was or what he was doing. su-bong had a charm that was hard to ignore in a room full of boring people.

it didn’t take long for su-bong to notice you either. he was immediately all over you, blabbing flirty comments your way. you knew what su-bong was clearly trying to do, but somehow you still fell for his irresistible charms. you tried to play it cool, giving him the cold shoulder or acting like you didn’t care, but at the end of the day, he was the only person you were thinking about.

things lead to another and that’s how you ended up stuck in bathroom stall with su-bong. at first, the two of you just talked, a normal conversation about life and a lot about his rapper career. it was easy to talk with su-bong, he always had something to say. the conversation flew, but the deep feeling of dread still remained in your stomach. you were stuck here, a place where you had to survive. if you didn’t, you would die.

you were scared, maybe even terrified.your eyes moved to the cross around his neck. you knew he had drugs in them, some heavy pills that worked almost immediately. you weren’t usually very interested in drugs, you stayed away from them. but now, they seemed so appealing. you wanted to get rid of this feeling, the emotions that wore you down. your anxiety would only make this whole thing worse. why would you pass an offer to get rid of it?

“can i have one?” you asked, not even specifying what you wanted. he knew immediately, hands moving down to the cross. he slid closer to you, opening up to necklace to show you the various colors of pills. your finger moved to reach for one, but su-bong moved the cross away from you.

“you sure? this shit is fucking crazy.” he expressed, emphasizing the part of it being crazy. you didn’t care how crazy it was, you needed something to ease your stress, the pain of emotions that were swirling through you. it was easy to see how nervous you were, hands shaking and flinches at sudden movements. su-bong could tell you were struggling, and that said a lot.you eyed the necklace for a moment, thinking over your choice. die with anxiety or die happy? the latter seemed like a better choice.

your eyes moved up to su-bong’s intense brown orbs, nodding your head. he didn’t react immediately, just stared into your eyes, almost like he was thinking deeply about something. he let out a huff as he was brought back to life, his normal enthusiasm shining in his eyes again. he shifted closer to you, opening and reaching the cross over to you.

some of the pills were different colors. blue, yellow and red. you tried to think which seemed the most appealing to you. it was clear they all had the same effect, but you wanted to pick a suitable one for yourself. the red ones screamed death to you, almost like a warning not to take them. the yellow reminded you of the sun or the hot beach sand that burned your feet in the summer. blue reminded you of the tracksuits you were wearing and the overall color of this place. then it had to be blue. this pill was going to guide you through the games, giving you enough of a boost to help you stay alive. hopefully.

you took the blue pill, popping it into your mouth. it didn’t have any specific taste as you chewed it, but the sensation of it in your mouth was definitely not very pleasant. soon the pill dissolved in your mouth, a layer of its contents still on your tongue. su-bong’s eyes stayed on you, gauging your reaction to the drug. you weren’t sure if he was worried or just interested, all that mattered to you was that he was here.

“how is it? you feel good?” he asked, curiosity evident in his voice. your body almost immediately relaxed, a sigh escaping your mouth. it felt better already. the stress you had experienced before was slowly easing into nothingness. your head fell to su-bong’s shoulder, hands moving around his arm. he felt so soft, so warm. he didn’t feel this soft before.

“you know, thanos is so stupid. i like your real name better. su-bong. su-bong. su-bong. su-bong…” you muttered out, body feeling completely limp against his. su-bong chuckled, wrapping an arm around your back. you heard the click of the cross opening, eyes moving to see what he was doing. su-bong picked up a blue pill too, quickly throwing it into his mouth.

after a moment in silence, su-bong shook his head, his alive eyes moving to see you. his leg started shaking, like he wanted to jump around the place. you on the other hand just felt fuzzy on the inside, a warm feeling flowing through your body. su-bong pushed himself up from the ground, pulling you with him. you didn’t complain, his hand was still around you. his head snapped over to you, eyes trailing your body. “can i show you how much your name means to me?”

su-bong turned his body towards you, his hands finding your hips. your eyes lazily moved over his body before up to his eyes. he hungrily stared back at you, fingers tightening around you. “fine. but don’t make too much noise.”

his hands instantly started roaming your body, lips crashing into you. your posture loosened as you felt his hand travel under your jacket and shirt, his rough calloused fingers rubbing against your skin. his touch felt so good and the drug he had given you before made you feel more relaxed than ever before. it was so hard not to give into su-bong. he was like a magnet, pulling you closer.

he crashed his lips onto yours again, hands firmly tied to your hips. his body was closer to you now, letting you feel him all the way. his body tried leaning closer to you, but that only ended up in you getting shoved against the bathroom stall’s door. su-bong wasn’t still pleased with the non-existent proximity between the two of you. he pushed himself even closer to you, his hips pinning you down on the door, his hard against you.

you swore you heard the bathroom door open, though that sound barely registered in your brain. your hands moved to su-bong’s hair, pulling his purple strikes up. moans escaped his mouth, the vibration of them against your lips making your knees grow weaker. su-bong craved getting closer to you, now rolling his hips against you. his hands frantically moved under your shirt, his silver rings already warm from the heat of your body.

suddenly, your body started to fall back, the stall’s door opening quickly. thankfully, su-bong’s held onto your body, still distracted by your lips. you slowly pushed su-bong’s face away from yours, his hungry lips still trying to get closer to you. as you leaned away from you, three pairs of eyes were staring at you and su-bong. player 120, player 149 and player 222 were all staring at the two of you. geum-ja immediately moved closer to you, starting to hit su-bong on the shoulder.

“is he bothering you? how did you get into the women’s bathroom?” she asked, first you in a sweet tone and then su-bong, raising her voice at him. she hit su-bong harder on his shoulder, making him let out small yelps. geum-ja pulled su-bong out of the stall by his ear, yelling at him about behaving himself. you just chuckled, too amused to stop her.

“it’s fine. we thought nobody was going to use the bathroom when the lights were out, so i helped him get in.” you smiled to the three of them, stepping out the stall, almost stumbling down from the effect of the drug. su-bong wrapped his arm around you, seeing how much you were struggling to properly move. geum-ja backed away from him, giving him one last glare before turning away from him.

jun-hee moved away from hyun-ju and geum-ja, walking into a different bathroom stall. the room was starting to spin. your body felt light and leaned against su-bong’s tall frame. his arms gripped your hips holding you steadily up. he looked down at you, his concerned brown eyes moving over your body. it was unusual to see him worried about something or someone. your eyes closed for a moment trying to regain your sense of balance and sight.

“you better get her back to bed before i pull those ears off your head!” geum-ja threatened, hitting su-bong’s shoulder again. he just waved her off, wrapping his arm around your back again. hyun-ju and geum-ja followed behind as su-bong guided you out to the bathroom door. your legs felt wobbly, almost like jello and you couldn’t help but wonder how su-bong was holding up so well. he must have taken these pills way more than you had initially thought.

“make sure she gets some sleep.” hyun-ju said, concern clearly evident in her voice. su-bong nodded at her before opening the door for you. you the women one last smile and stepped out of the bathroom. a guard was outside, eyeing you and su-bong. he just laughed at the guard as he helped you navigate through the place. you chuckled too, not knowing at what, but to you it was funny nonetheless.

#choi seunghyun #choi seunghyun x reader #squid game #thanos #bigbang #t.o.p #t.o.p x reader #thanos x reader #thanos x you

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kaissatou · 4 months ago

Text

you can be alice (i'll be the mad hatter) (18+)

whenever i wanna write an actual fic it ends up as head-cannons instead bc i cant think of any plot ughh :3 i'll make an actual fic of yandere!gojo if anything can think of a plot pretty pls- so this is just how i think yandere satoru would act lolol tw: smut, manipulative behaviour, stalking?, abuse of power

Yandere!Gojo's obsession with you runs deep.

He wants- no, he needs you to rely on him. He's the strongest, after all. Satoru is easy to rile up, and he's also extremely possessive. The idea of you relying on somebody whose not him has him working himself up, becoming irrationally jealous. Satoru will go to extreme lengths if it means keeping you by his side, forever.

Around others, it's hard to see a difference in Satoru's persona. He's still just as charming, as ever (as he likes to call himself), but really, its just a carefully crafted act. He only wants to keep you close, to keep you sane. He doesn't change, the same as ever. No one bats an eye- because no one knows his crazed thoughts about you. His obsession starts subtle; no one realises, because its same old Gojo. Lingering touches on your shoulder, chapped kisses on your forehead. He'll shower you with affection, overly expensive gifts and the full attention of Satoru Gojo himself, but its all a ploy to make you feel dependent on him, as if you could never live without him. Who would be there to pay your bills, or take you to restuarants you could never dream of affording?

Satoru's sly, and he's also manipulative- though he has an articulate way of going about it. He's overly casual, like he really doesn't know what he's doing or saying. But he's pulling the strings. His controlling ways are subtle at first. He'll interfere with your plans with Shoko, pulling you along to the movies with him instead, referring to himself as your saviour. Because to him, he really believes that he is. It carries along like this, until it's not so subtle anymore. And in no time, you find yourself distanced from your friends, but not from Satoru. No, he's always there with you- because why would you need other friends, when you have him?

And really, it would be no use for you to try and do anything that's not under his watchful eye, anyway. If you did go out without him, something would conveniently come up- a special grade curse? No fear, Gojo's just around the corner. Gojo's popular, and he can control crowds with a bat of his eye, a flick of his hand. Anyone who acts just a bit too friendly towards you, Satoru will...handle. Rumours spread fast; you know that, right?

You've caught Gojo watching you around the school countless times now- to which you confront him, and it's always the same response: "I'm just watching out for you!" And at first, you (dumbly) believe it. Satoru will track your every move, but really, he just wants to look out for you! There's no harm in that, right?

If you're out, whether it's doing something mundane like grocery shopping or out for coffee with Suguru and Shoko, Satoru will be there. Sometimes, it's a coincidence (or so you think), or sometimes, he just tags along like a lost puppy. As time passes, his coincidental appearances become more frequent. You quickly realise it may not be a coincidence anymore (or if it ever was).

Satoru Gojo has mastered the perfect façade. He's able to meticulously craft and manipulate situations to favour him, to allow him to see you (more often than what's considered healthy for friends). He'll persuade (threaten) Yaga to be put on missions with you, and somehow, after having a not so friendly chat with your landlord, he's got a key to your apartment- a key that you don't know about. Gojo will use his power to his advantage, and he feels no remorse about it. Anything's worth it to get to you.

Satoru is clingy. His love for you is overwhelming, suffocating at times. He constantly wants you to feel dependent on him, and he'll do anything to get you that way. pliant and submissive. You don't need to go on grocery runs anymore because Satoru's already got your shopping from the most high-end market for you! Don't question how he got into your home, though. He'll constantly remind you that everything he does is for your benefit. At first, the idea of being doted on by him is comforting, his affection providing a safe sense of security, but in time, it becomes clear that his love is extremely unhealthy. It's hard to get a movement to breathe with him around. Again, he's manipulative. There's no way to escape his presence.

When he confesses, it'll either go one of two ways- you'll accept, intimidated by him and clever enough to know what strings he'll pull if you decline his romances. Or you'll say no, and disappoint Satoru, because he really thought you knew better than this! However, he seems to take it fine. It's chilling, the way his lips flatten out into a thin line, and the way he nods his head, almost emotionless, and you get to believe that its finally over. But, you didn't know Gojo as well as you thought.

Satoru would never dream of hurting you, not in a million years- but really, it was your fault that it all came down to this. Satoru knew deep down that you had to love him back, and this was his way of giving you that final push! Everything was normal at first, until subtly, everyone started steering clear of you, even Suguru and Shoko! And was it a mistake that all the curses you had to fight were stronger than you had been told by Ijichi, leaving you blindsided? Satoru always came to save the day, giving you a sly grin. You knew what he was doing, and there was only one way to fix it.

Gojo accepts with with open arms, acting like nothing ever happened. He'll comfort you with soft words, murmuring that you just needed that little last push, that all you need from now on is him.

And when he finally gets to fuck you, its feral. He's frenzied and crazed, nipping and sucking and whatever skin he can get, sucking dark pretty purple hickeys all over your neck, leaving a trail of warm spit in their wake. His mouth will trail lower, savouring the taste of your salty skin against his tongue. When he tastes your pussy for the first time, he actually moans. He purrs like your pussy is his lifeline. How can someone be so gentle yet so rough at the same time?

Satoru can. He's ravenous, yet you don't know that he's only lubing you up to take his fat cock. He'll split you open, watching you wriggle and writhe in his strong grip, your pleasure (and pain) doing the most to spur him on. It's, really. It's dirty, and he loves it. His nimble fingers will pinch and flick at your clit meanly, teasingly but its just so good.

He'll fuck you through your orgasm, but he wont stop- not until he's had his full. There's no end in sight, not when he's pining over you for months, years! You'd be stupid to think that he'd pull out before the sun rise; infact, Satoru would stay situated inside your gooey, wet warm walls forever if he could. But duty calls, so he'll relish in the time he has for the time being.

After all, you have so much lost time to make up.

You'll just have to make it up to him forever. Its okay, he's a patient man when it comes to you.

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manmuncher777 · 3 months ago

Note

hi i love your writings! can you please write more hatefuck work? :)

Hi nonnie!! Thanks you so muchhh! I hope you enjoy my love

I HATE YOU

choso x reader smut

It was always the same.

Another night out with the group. Another reminder that somehow, some way, you always ended up stuck with him.

Choso sat across from you at the long restaurant table, slouched back in his chair like he couldn’t be bothered to pretend to enjoy himself.

You caught his eyes — dark, unimpressed, annoyed — and immediately looked away, scowling into your drink.

The tension between you two was palpable. It had been since the day you met.

Something about him — the way he spoke, the way he looked at you like you were an inconvenience — just grated on your nerves.

And the feeling was clearly mutual.

“Here,” Yuuji said brightly, sliding a shot across the table to you both. “You guys need to loosen up.”

You forced a smile, grabbing the glass without looking at Choso.

From the corner of your eye, you saw him do the same — his knuckles brushing yours for a split second.

You both flinched away like the touch physically burned.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Nobara muttered under her breath, nudging Maki. “They’re worse than ever.”

Maki snorted, not bothering to hide her grin.

It didn’t help that everyone else at the table was paired off — laughing, leaning into each other, the easy affection between couples only highlighting the gaping, awkward rift between you and Choso.

You took your shot in one swift gulp, slamming the glass down harder than necessary.

Choso raised a dark brow, slow and lazy, before mirroring you.

“Careful,” he drawled, voice low and rough. “You might actually start having fun if you drink enough.”

You shot him a look sharp enough to cut.

“Careful,” you snapped back. “You might accidentally grow a personality.”

The others groaned in unison — but there was a thread of laughter underneath it, like they were secretly enjoying the show.

Choso’s mouth quirked — not quite a smile, but something smug.

He leaned in just a little, resting his elbow on the table, his fingers tapping lazily against the wood.

“You watching me that close, princess?” he asked, voice dropping low, teasing. “Wouldn’t want you to catch feelings.”

You stared at him, heart beating too fast — with anger, obviously. Not anything else.

“Please,” you scoffed, forcing a smirk. “I’d rather drink bleach.”

He only chuckled, dark and rough, like he knew exactly how flustered you really were.

And you hated him for it.

You hated the way your pulse jumped when he looked at you like that — lazy, heavy-lidded, like he was undressing you with his eyes just to piss you off.

You hated that your skin burned under his gaze.

You hated that when he smirked, your stomach flipped like some stupid lovesick idiot.

You grabbed your drink and stood abruptly.

“I need another one,” you muttered, not looking at him, stalking off toward the bar.

Behind you, Choso watched you go with a slow, infuriating grin — like he knew exactly how deep he’d gotten under your skin.

And maybe, if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t hate the way you fought him at every turn.

Maybe he liked it a little too much

You downed another drink at the bar, trying to steady the way your heart was hammering in your chest.

God, you hated him. Hated that smug little look he always gave you.

Hated the way your skin still felt too hot from the last time his fingers brushed yours.

You slammed your glass down, exhaling hard through your nose.

No.

You weren’t going to let Choso fucking Kamo get under your skin tonight.

You turned back toward the group just in time to see Yuuji waving you over.

“C’mon!” he called, laughing. “We’re picking teams for trivia — couples versus singles!”

You froze for a split second.

Couples versus singles?

And you were the only single girl.

And Choso was the only single guy.

Your stomach sank.

When you hesitated, Nobara smirked and hollered across the table, “Don’t worry! You two can team up!”

The others erupted into laughter and a few teasing whistles.

You wanted to die.

Choso caught your eye across the room, that same infuriating smirk tugging at his lips.

He raised one dark brow, almost like he was challenging you — Come on, princess. You scared?

You gritted your teeth so hard your jaw ached.

Fine.

If he wanted a war, you’d give him one.

You stalked back to the table, plopping yourself down in the seat beside him with zero grace.

He barely shifted to make room, knees brushing yours under the table — a brief flash of heat that made your whole body tense.

Choso tilted his head lazily toward you, voice a low murmur that only you could hear:

“You smell like desperation.”

You snapped your head to him, glaring, but the heat that flooded your cheeks gave you away instantly.

“You smell like cheap body spray and bad decisions,” you hissed back.

He chuckled, deep and quiet, leaning closer so his shoulder pressed against yours.

“You sure you can handle being this close, sweetheart?”

His voice was like gravel and smoke, so casually teasing — like he knew exactly how wound up you were.

Your throat went dry.

You wanted to shove him off his chair.

You wanted to slap that cocky smirk off his face.

You wanted to grab him by the collar and kiss him just to shut him up.

You settled for a tight smile, sitting up straighter, determined to ignore him — but it was so hard when every inch of your body was screaming from his proximity.

You could feel the heat radiating off him — the faint smell of his cologne, the subtle flex of his arms when he leaned on the table — and it was driving you insane

Trivia started, and you tried to focus — really, you did — but Choso kept making these low little comments under his breath, his lips brushing your ear each time he leaned in.

“You’re gonna cost us this win, princess,” he murmured. “Can’t think straight when I’m around, huh?”

You elbowed him hard enough to make him grunt — but the sound it drew out of him was too close to a moan, and suddenly your thighs pressed together without thinking.

God, you hated him.

You hated him so much.

The night dragged on, and the drinks kept flowing.

The bar got hotter, the noise louder, the tension tighter — so tight you thought you might actually snap.

When trivia ended — your team barely losing by a few points (and you were definitely blaming Choso) — the group migrated toward the back lounge to wind down.

Couples were already pairing off, tucked close together, lost in their own little worlds.

You lingered by the bar, fidgeting with your glass.

You needed air.

You needed space.

You needed to stop thinking about how Choso’s knee kept brushing yours all night.

You stepped outside onto the back patio, breathing in the cool air — relief washing over you for all of two seconds.

Until you heard the door creak open behind you.

“Running away already?”

You closed your eyes briefly, willing the universe to smite you where you stood.

“Fuck off,” you muttered without turning around.

You heard his footsteps behind you — slow, unhurried — until he was standing just a little too close, leaning lazily against the railing beside you.

You refused to look at him.

You refused to acknowledge how broad his shoulders looked in the dim light, or how the moonlight caught in the strands of his dark hair, or how warm the air felt between you.

“You always get this flustered around me?” he murmured, voice low and rough, dripping with smug satisfaction.

You snapped your head toward him, ready to unleash hell —

But the look on his face stopped you cold.

He was smirking, yes — cocky and insufferable — but there was something else in his gaze.

Something dark.

Something hungry.

You swallowed hard.

Choso straightened up, slowly stepping closer, crowding your space until your back bumped against the railing.

“You gonna tell me you don’t feel it too?” he said, voice a low growl.

His fingers ghosted along your arm — so lightly you could barely feel it, but enough to make your skin erupt in goosebumps.

Your heart was a jackhammer in your chest.

You hated him.

You wanted to taste him so badly it hurt.

You opened your mouth — to say what, you didn’t even know — but the words stuck in your throat as Choso leaned down, his mouth hovering a breath away from yours.

Daring you to move.

Daring you to close the distance.

The tension crackled between you like a live wire, your hands trembling at your sides.

You could feel it — the inevitable collision — like a storm gathering on the horizon.

You just had to fall into it.

You turned toward him to snap something — something cutting, something final —

but you didn’t get the chance.

Because Choso’s mouth crashed into yours.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was teeth and anger and months of bottled-up tension breaking loose all at once.

You gasped, fists bunching into the front of his hoodie without even thinking, trying to push him away — but he just growled low in his throat and dragged you closer instead.

His hands were rough and greedy, grabbing your hips, grinding you against him like he didn’t even care who could see.

Like he was trying to brand you.

You hated him.

But your hands curled in his hair anyway, nails digging into his scalp as you kissed him back like you’d been starving.

Like you needed him just to breathe

It was filthy, desperate, all messy mouths and clashing teeth — until the door creaked open again.

“Yo, where’d you guys—”

Yuuji’s voice stumbled to a halt.

You and Choso jerked apart instantly, panting, faces flushed.

You turned away fast, heart hammering like you’d just been caught stealing, trying to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand like that would erase anything.

Choso was still breathing hard beside you, hands clenched at his sides, dark eyes burning a hole through the side of your head.

“Uh…” Yuuji said awkwardly. “Nevermind.”

He disappeared just as fast as he appeared, the door slamming shut behind him.

There was a long, awful beat of silence.

You didn’t even look at Choso.

“That was a mistake,” you said flatly. “Forget it.”

You tried to step past him — tried to leave it at that — but a rough hand shot out, grabbing your wrist in a grip that burned.

“You think that was a mistake?” he growled, voice dangerously low.

You froze.

Choso wasn’t smiling anymore.

He wasn’t smirking, wasn’t teasing.

His jaw was tight, eyes glittering with something dangerous.

Furious.

“Let go of me,” you snapped.

But he didn’t.

He shoved you back against the brick wall of the patio with a thud — not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to make you gasp.

Caging you in with his body, his hand planted flat against the wall beside your head.

“You think you can just walk away after that?” he hissed, nose almost brushing yours.

“You think you can just fucking kiss me like that — want me like that — and pretend it didn’t happen?”

Your chest heaved.

You hated the way your body thrummed with heat just from the nearness of him, hated how your thighs pressed together instinctively.

You hated how right he was.

He leaned even closer, so close you could feel his breath against your lips, so close you could almost taste him again.

“Say it,” he demanded.

“Say you didn’t want it.”

You opened your mouth — you really meant to say it — but nothing came out.

Your throat burned with the lie you couldn’t force yourself to tell.

Choso’s eyes darkened.

He laughed under his breath — a short, humorless sound — and his free hand slid down, gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.

You shivered.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s what I thought.”

And then his mouth was on yours again — rougher this time, hungrier, like he was punishing you for even trying to deny him.

You whimpered into the kiss, hands fisting in the front of his jacket as your body betrayed you completely, arching up into him, craving more, more, more.

You hated him.

You needed him.

And you knew — somewhere deep down, in the frantic thundering of your heart —

this was just the beginning of the disaster you were about to spiral into together.

Ch. oso didn’t even give you a chance to catch your breath.

He grabbed your hand — rough, impatient — and dragged you back toward the group.

You stumbled after him, dazed, lips still tingling from the kiss, trying not to look like you’d just gotten absolutely wrecked in a dark corner.

Everyone turned when you approached, drinks in hand, laughing, clueless.

Choso didn’t even blink.

“She’s not feeling good,” he announced gruffly, his voice low and almost a little too tight.

“I’m taking her home.”

Nobody questioned it.

There were a few mumbled *feel better!*s, a couple concerned glances —

but Choso didn’t wait for any real conversation to start.

He tugged you through the door, out into the cool night, toward his car like a man possessed.

You barely managed to clamber into the passenger seat before he was slamming his door shut and peeling out of the driveway, one hand white-knuckled on the steering wheel, the other flexing restlessly at his thigh.

You sat there, tense, your whole body buzzing —

staring out the window, pretending you couldn’t feel the air crackling between you.

Pretending you didn’t want to crawl into his lap.

But Choso was breathing heavier now.

And after about two minutes of suffocating silence, he cursed under his breath —

and threw the car into park on the side of a deserted street.

He turned toward you, eyes burning.

You barely had time to gasp before he was on you.

Dragging you over the center console, hauling you into the backseat with him.

Strong hands groping, tugging at your clothes, tearing desperate sounds from your throat.

“I hate you,” he muttered against your mouth, voice ragged.

You whimpered, fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer, closer —

“I hate you,” he growled again, teeth grazing your jaw, your neck, your collarbone —

but it sounded more like I need you.

His hands were everywhere — shoving up your shirt, squeezing your waist, slipping between your thighs.

You clutched at him helplessly, thighs falling open for him like your body didn’t even care you were supposed to despise him.

“Fuck,” Choso hissed, grinding against you. “You drive me fucking insane.”

Your hips jerked up to meet his, a pathetic little whimper leaving your lips before you could stop it.

He pressed his forehead against yours, breathing hard, fingers digging into your hips.

“You think this is just some fucking mistake?” he snarled, voice thick with frustration and need.

“You think I can just walk away after this?”

You shook your head frantically — couldn’t even find words — because you didn’t want him to stop either.

You wanted more.

You wanted everything.

Choso groaned low in his chest — a feral, broken sound — and shoved your panties aside without hesitation, fingers slipping between your folds.

You choked on a gasp, clutching at his hoodie, nails scraping down his arms.

“So wet for someone you hate,” he muttered darkly, sliding two fingers inside you, making you arch and moan against his shoulder.

“Pathetic.”

But his mouth was tender when he kissed you this time —

hungry, but slower.

Like he couldn’t help but worship you even through the anger.

You hated him.

You loved the way he touched you.

You needed more, and he was ready to give it to you — messy, desperate, perfectly wrong

Choso’s fingers pumped into you with rough, desperate strokes, his forehead pressing to yours as you panted into each other’s mouths.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered, voice strained, the muscles in his jaw flexing.

“Like you were made for me.”

You whimpered, hips grinding helplessly against his hand, chasing every brutal drag of his fingers.

You could feel how wet you were, how obscene the slick sounds between your bodies were —

how Choso’s breathing got harsher the more desperate you became.

He pulled his fingers almost all the way out —

and then rammed them back inside, making you jolt and moan so sweetly it made his cock throb painfully in his jeans.

“That’s it,” he breathed, curling his fingers just right, grinding his palm against your clit, “make those pretty fucking sounds for me.”

You clawed at his hoodie, mouth falling open, thighs trembling on either side of his hips.

It was too much —

it wasn’t enough —

you needed more, needed all of him, and judging by the furious way Choso was grinding against you, he was barely holding it together either.

With a low, ragged groan, he yanked his fingers from you —

shoving them into your mouth before you could even protest.

“Taste yourself,” he growled, watching you through half-lidded, furious eyes.

You moaned around his fingers, tasting how wrecked he’d already made you, feeling heat burn low in your stomach at the filthy way he watched you.

Choso let out a shaky breath —

and then he was fumbling with his belt, shoving his jeans down enough to free his cock.

It was thick and flushed dark, the head glistening —

and you reached for him immediately, wrapping a hand around him and making him hiss through his teeth.

“You want it that bad?” he sneered, leaning in until your noses brushed.

“So fucking desperate for someone you hate?”

You didn’t even get the chance to answer —

because Choso grabbed your hips, dragged your ruined panties to the side, and shoved into you in one brutal, desperate thrust.

You cried out — the stretch perfect, filthy, addictive —

and Choso groaned low in his chest, slamming his forehead against your shoulder.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, hips jerking as he started to fuck you deep and rough, “fuck, you feel so fucking good, I—”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence — couldn’t think — couldn’t breathe —

not when you clenched around him so tightly, whimpering and gasping his name like you didn’t even care how wrong this was.

The car rocked with every thrust, the windows fogging up fast, your bodies a sweaty, tangled mess.

“You gonna come for me?” Choso panted against your neck, biting at your skin.

“Come all over my cock like a fucking slut?”

You nodded frantically, sobbing little yeses, clutching him like you’d die if he let you go.

“Good,” he snarled, reaching down to rub your clit in harsh, tight circles.

“Be a good girl and fucking come for me.”

It hit you hard — stars bursting behind your eyelids —

your body locking up around him, clenching so tight Choso cursed viciously and fucked you through it, desperate to chase his own release.

You barely registered his hoarse groan, the way he shoved himself impossibly deeper, hips stuttering —

before he was spilling inside you, pulsing thick and hot, filling you so much you could feel it dripping out around him.

He didn’t pull out.

Didn’t let you go.

Just clutched you against him, still panting, forehead resting against yours like he didn’t know what the fuck had just happened.

Like he wasn’t sure whether he hated you anymore —

or whether he just needed to ruin you over and over again.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jjk choso #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso #choso jjk #choso kamo #choso x reader #choso kamo smut

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blainesebastian · 1 month ago

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best behavior

word count: 9,441 ship: Nick Leister x reader rating: NC-17 (for some smut, suggestive sexual language and expletives) summary: While you're excited to see your brother when he comes to visit, you know that it'll also come with a dinner with your parents. And that's something you're never looking forward to. notes: just wanted an excuse to write some protective and supportive nick 🥰 notes2: gifs from here, masterlist is here!

Smoothing a hand over your face, you sit down on the edge of your bed where Nick is on his stomach reading a book. It’s a lazy Saturday, just spending time with one another, a long day of hanging out at his place in the pool and eating way too much food after the fact. He drove you back here with the windows down and the music a little too loud, his hand stretched across the divide to lace fingers together, resting his palm along your thigh. Your cheeks are warm from wine and a shower with the water too hot, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You’ve been dating Nick for two years and somehow, days like this always make you feel like the very beginning. Butterflies in your stomach, a warm glow behind your ribs. Just utterly in love with him.

That’s always been the easy part.

The hard part? Well. You’re still working on it.

It’s always been a little difficult for you to open up, to share things with Nick. It’s not him, exactly, that’s hard to talk to. It’s just that you’re used to people judging, used to them not understanding, not seeing you. It’s unfortunately been a staple in your life—with family, with friends, with relationships.

Granted, it only takes one instance with Nick for you to learn that that’d never be the case with him.

It’s a combination of things, you realize, happening at once.

You’ve bottled things up your entire life. Your parents aren’t exactly the poster-children for handling or managing their emotions well. They never talk about how they really feel or why it’s important to vent or share before tidal waves swallow them. The sad part is, this isn’t even something that’s passed down to you—this is memorized behavior. Your father is a block of ice, a deaf ear, and your mother has somehow convinced you that oversharing (or rather, sharing in general) isn’t attractive.

Distantly, you know that’s not healthy and you do your best to unlearn it in relationships that mean something to you—your brother, friendships, boyfriends, but it’s a lot harder than it seems. Especially when you put up resistance and no one pushes, no one gently tries to take down a wall that you’ve carefully crafted around yourself to keep your feelings in.

No one, until you start dating Nick.

Which is probably why, when he senses something is off and asks you for the second time in different and supportive words if you’re okay —that bottle that’s been tipping back and forth inside of you for about two days explodes.

You love your job at the bookstore, it’s one of the things that feels most put-together in your life. Especially for a future that you want working with kids, becoming a teacher—you’re able to spend time reading books and help develop reading programs and activities for the kids that come in. You made the mistake of trying to tell your parents about an event that you put together because you were excited about it. In turn, you get a twenty-minute lecture about how your future job needed to have more ‘substance’.

A conversation that’s not new, yet is painful all the same. Something that you’ve learned to swallow, smile and nod about and then move on. To brush it under the rug where it belongs because lingering on it will do nothing but hurt.

And yet you’ve let those feelings build for far too long, and when Nick gently tries to pry you open, because he can tell you’ve been upset for the past few days, a wave of emotions come crashing down—hard.

Your face crumples and you try to hide the reaction with your hands but you’re not quick enough, a sob bursting out of your mouth before the onslaught of tears comes. Embarrassment stings in your chest so sharply that you attempt to turn away from him,

“Hey,” Nick gently reaches for your elbow, tugging you closer. “Oh, hey. C’mere.” He whispers, wrapping his arms around you. He holds you tightly, absorbing every shuddered cry that rocks your body.

He has to think this is so pathetic, the fact that you’re crying over something that happened two days ago, that you don’t have to listen to what you’re parents are telling you about what to eventually do with your life, like it’s somehow written in stone—that this is the first time in a long time it feels like someone actually cares enough to hear what’s wrong.

But of course, Nick doesn't make you feel like that at all.

He doesn’t try to ask you what’s happened, just keeps you against his chest for the worst of it, his one hand mapping circles up and down your back while the other threads his fingers through your hair. He presses so many kisses against your forehead and temple that you begin to lose track.

Eventually, when you pull back to look at him, Nick cups your cheek. He brushes his thumb along the bone underneath your one eye and offers you the softest of smiles that somehow lightens the heaviness in your chest.

Which is why when your breathing evens out and the tears stop, you tell him everything.

Still. It’s not always easy. You’ve gotten a lot better at it, but the moment something happens that you want to tell him, something that’s important…you feel yourself clam up, snap shut, bury it.

Which is how you’ve been sitting on this particular nugget of information about your family for the past week. Something reaches deep into your chest and clutches, creating a heartbeat in your ears.

Nick bumps your leg with his elbow, snapping your attention to him. The brush that was sitting on your thigh almost tumbles onto the floor. You manage to catch it, a soft hum of amusement from your boyfriend.

“Fast hands.”

You smile a little, a small sound rumbling in your chest. “You would know.”

Nick sets his book down, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of your knee. “I would.”

He shifts on the bed until he’s seated behind you. There’s a silent conversation as he kisses the back of your shoulder, his arm slipping around your waist. You’re not wearing much, just underwear and one of his t-shirts, but the touches here and there are not inherently sexual. It’s more of a deep-seated intimacy, something that fills you up so entirely that you’re not sure how you didn’t have it before.

His one hand rubs at your waist while the other reaches for the brush on your lap. You close your eyes when his fingers begin to thread through your damp hair, guiding the brush to follow afterwards. The touches are deft and measured, getting tangles out. But it’s not just about combing out the strands, there are gentle questions he’s not asking, because he knows you. Can sense the tense lines in your shoulders, can feel the way words are tucked underneath your tongue.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” He asks softly, his breath fluttering along the back of your neck.

Despite the soft sigh that leaves your chest, a twinge of a smile tugs the corners of your mouth. Because he understands what you need. It’s almost frustrating how well he’s able to see right through you. Almost. You appreciate that no matter how tightly wound you might appear, he’s always there, gently encouraging you to open up.

There’s a tender, knee-jerk reaction to keep him out, to hide, but his hands brushing your hair unwind some of your hesitation. “My brother and his fiancée, Gina, are coming to visit from New York on Tuesday.”

Nick doesn’t pause in his ministrations but you can tell he’s listening to you, calm and even breaths that sweep against your back every so often, encouraging you to keep talking. You glance down at your hands, wringing your fingers on your lap.

“I haven’t seen him in a few years, not since we moved here, so,” You swallow over an emotion in your throat. Truth is, you get along amazingly with your brother. He’s one of your favorite people in the world. Much like Nick and his relationship with Maddie, you and your brother, Alec, have been inseparable since you were kids. Despite the fact that he’s five years older than you, you’ve grown up playing together, looking out for one another, and getting into trouble for shared shenanigans. That closeness has never been diminished, not even from living further away, even though you miss being able to just show up at his place without an invitation to hang out or check in.

You can’t wait to see him, even though sometimes his presence comes as a double-edged sword. Your parents have done their best work at trying to drive an invisible wedge between the two of you where it doesn’t belong. For whatever reason, he’s always been the golden child all throughout growing up. If anyone were to meet Alec though, you’d never know that he was constantly put in the center of attention, he’s never let that praise go to his head. He’s down to earth, kind, funny, and dedicated—everything that he has, he’s worked his ass off for. And yet, for reasons that feel like a briar patch in your lungs, your parents practically worship the ground he walks on. Like everything he touches literally turns to gold.

You’re not saying that there’s no justification to praise Alec for any of his accomplishments, especially lately. He’s working as one of the youngest positions in a supply-chain company and gets paid really well for it. He’s also been putting funds together to fix up an old brownstone to eventually move in with his soon-to-be wife. Gina is practically a Disney princess; she's so sweet, not to mention successful in her own right. They’re just a really good couple. Textbook, almost.

You couldn’t be happier for Alec, he deserves it.

And yet…it always seems like some sort of competition between the two of you in your parent’s eyes. Even though it’s never been like that privately for you and him. Neither you nor Alec take much stock in that commentary, it’s just something to smile and roll your eyes over. You’ve learned a long time ago that your parent’s approval is not the be-all-end-all to how you feel about yourself. Or at least, it shouldn’t be. Though it doesn’t make it any less painful when it’s pointed out.

You don’t even realize you haven’t finished your thought process until Nick speaks up, starting on the other side of your shoulder. He runs the brush through the locks there, over and over, and it settles your heartbeat in your throat better than anything else.

“I’m sure you’re looking forward to seeing him.”

You nod, leaning back a little until your shoulders bump against his chest. Nick stops brushing your hair, his arms wrapping around you from behind. He hooks his chin over your shoulder, tipping his chin down to press a kiss to your jawline.

“Yeah, I just wish my parents weren’t ruining it by having some sort of overzealous dinner.”

That’s totally bogus, anyways? You know them. They just want to show off and pretend to be something they’re not in front of Gina because she comes from money. Despite Gina being one of the most grounded people you’ve ever met, it’s like your parents think they need to impress her, that she’ll report back how everything was to her own parents.

You roll your eyes, your head tipping until it rests on Nick’s collarbone. He doesn’t comment but instead, gently squeezes you. He’s only met your parents a handful of times but it doesn’t take a genius to put two-and-two together to figure out that Nick doesn’t like them. Or rather, he doesn’t respect them and it’s directly related to how they’ve made you feel. How they continue to make you feel.

Regardless of that, Nick has always been a perfect gentleman around them. He’s never said anything outright to your mom or dad, has never caused waves, has always been polite and respectful. A mask that fits in with a few others you’ve seen sliding over the features of his face, indistinguishable if you don’t know him well. You understand that mask perfectly well, after all, you tend to wear your own when handling your parents’ disappointments. You’ve already told him that it wouldn’t be worth it to get into it with them, anyways. You’ve been dealing with their sour mood swings all your life, you can take it.

Nick lets out a long breath out of his nose, “You said it was on Tuesday?”

Chewing on your lower lip, you nod, “Yeah, I was hoping you could…” Then the upcoming week slams into view as your eyes snap to the calendar hanging above your desk. Fuck, “Shit, I didn’t realize it was the same night you had that fight scheduled.”

You can feel Nick shake his head but you keep talking, so annoyed with yourself that you didn’t put it together when it came to those dates. As much as you hate watching Nick fight in the ring, you’d much rather be there than at a dinner table with your parents.

“Lion’s been trying to organize that for forever and I can’t—”

Nick squeezes you again, “Hey,” He whispers in your ear, waiting until you turn a little in his arms to face him, “I’ll be there.” He holds your gaze, nuzzling your nose with his own until a ghost of a smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. “Okay?”

Admittedly, there’s a bubble of relief that bursts in your chest when you know you won’t be going to that dinner alone. You’re definitely excited to see your brother, you don’t want your parents to ruin it or take that away from you. But it’ll make you feel better to have someone in your corner.

You nod, wanting to thank him but you know you don’t need to. He wouldn’t let you anyways, that’s not what he’s after. He just wants to be there for you, as he has been since you’ve met him. And you can’t help but love him a little more for that.

Planting a kiss to his cheek, you turn as he shifts so that you’re both leaning against the headboard of your bed. He’s propped up against a pile of pillows while you get comfortable against his chest.

“Can’t promise the food will be good either.” You mumble.

A soft laugh rumbles in Nick’s chest that you feel more than hear, “We’ll go to the diner after—french fries and milkshakes.”

“Something to look forward to.” You agree with a grin and finally feel your body slowly begin to relax against him, one muscle at a time.

—

Smoothing your hands over your plaid dress for what has to be the fiftith time, you chastise yourself for wearing something so fucking uncomfortable. This is a typical occurrence for you, unfortunately. Despite settling into the fact that no matter what choices you make your parents will probably never be happy with the things you do, wear, or say…there’s still that niggling inside of you to try and appease them.

Hence this stupid dress.

It’s something your mother bought you three Christmases ago and it’s not your style in the slightest. Maybe if it didn’t have puffy sleeves, or if it was more low-cut than the stifling high neck…maybe if it didn’t feel like it was suffocating you. You got ready at Nick’s house, kind of hiding out there until this dinner reared its ugly head. You should have brought options instead of just…this.

“We can turn around,” Nick says, not looking at you as he drives, but his one hand leaves the steering wheel to squeeze yours that’s on your thigh. “Or stop at a store, buy you another dress.”

A laugh rumbles up out of your throat, “Right, because I have money to burn for that.”

Nick’s lips twitch, like you don’t already know that he’d buy you whatever you needed, whatever you asked for. “Can forgo the dress altogether then.” He shifts at a red light, turning his head to look in your direction.

“Oh yeah, that’ll really be something to talk about at the dinner table.”

He shrugs his one shoulder, his eyes giving you a heated onceover despite this stupid dress choking the life out of you. “I know what you’re wearing under there, I’ve got zero complaints.”

A small snort leaves your nose, your cheeks flushing as you playfully poke his side with the hand he’s holding. You appreciate his offer, even moreso at his attempt to distract you as you head to your parent’s place. You wish this dinner was somewhere public, as if the bustle of a busy restaurant might help detract from whatever conversations are going to spin between your family.

He eventually pulls into the long driveway that leads up to your parent’s house. You don’t come from near as much money that Nick does, or apparently what Alec is marrying into, but you’ve always been comfortable. You’ve never wanted for anything a day in your life and you know most have it far worse off. You also know that the profession you’re interested in is severely underpaid when it comes to teachers. Which is probably another reason why your parents are against you becoming one, they’ve always been the type of people to crave things they don’t need, including acceptance and notoriety. The only thing they asked about when you told them you were dating Nick is what his parents do (and then once more when they realized Nick was directly responsible for a successful ride-share app).

When he parks, you squeeze Nick’s hand after he pockets the car keys. He looks over at you, raising his eyebrows when nothing comes out of your mouth. Your jaw ticks, gaze wandering towards the front door. You don’t want to say anything, exactly? But…

His eyes soften as he follows your gaze, lifting your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles, “I’ll be on my best behavior,” He teases, “Promise.”

You let out a long sigh, but there’s the softest of smiles pulling the corners of your mouth, “I owe you one.”

He shakes his head, opening up the car door, “You really don’t.”

You follow him out of the car, a small grimace crinkling your nose because…you’re not sure about that. The night still has yet to happen and you already know there’s a ton of better things you and him could be doing that’s not this.

His hand reaches for yours again while approaching the front door, fingers lacing absentmindedly. You tug him a little closer, “I don’t know, I can easily think of a few ways I could make this up to you.”

Nick smiles and rings the doorbell, turning his head to kiss the bridge of your nose. “I’ll take you up on that if we survive.” He winks, nipping at your lower lip before offering a small kiss that melts some of the remaining nerves. When the door opens, you look over as your mother lingers in the doorway.

Carole gives a small smile, her eyes instantly grazing over your dress before humming, “Don’t you look beautiful?” Then, “Though maybe another size up would have been more comfortable.”

You let out a breath, tipping your head towards Nick to change the subject, “You remember my boyfriend, right mom? Nick?”

Your mother’s gaze snaps to him standing beside you and even though she’s smiling, you can tell that you’ve thrown her a bit off kilter with him being here. You didn’t let her know you were bringing him in case your parents attempted to feed you bullshit about not being allowed to have a guest at a so-called ‘family dinner’.

She clears her throat, nodding, stepping aside to let you both in, “I do. How are you Nick?”

Nick slides his leather jacket off, handing it over to your mother to hang up as she opens a side closet door. He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans that probably could pass as black and an expensive short-sleeved, collared, cream colored sweater. His accent jewelry is the same, a tiny bit of gel in his hair to tame the wild curls near his forehead. Your stomach does a flip as a waft of his cologne, combined with something that’s purely him, brushes your nose.

“I’m good Mrs. Y/L/N, thank you.”

She hums, not asking any additional questions and certainly not offering for him to call her ‘Carole’. Which is just fine for Nick; the moment your mother stops speaking, his attention returns to you, his hand reaching out for yours.

Though before he can manage that, you hear your brother come down the hallway with a boisterous, “I thought I heard Y/N.” He grins when he reaches you, picking you up in a spinning hug that easily makes you laugh. When he sets you down, he grimaces at the dress, “Really?”

“Shut up.” You laugh, swatting his chest, but god—it’s really good to see him.

Alec is dressed in a pair of light colored jeans and a dark blue button down rolled up at the sleeves. It’s almost unfair how casual he can dress and probably nothing was said about it. But your usual style is met with commentary and not so subtle looks as if you’re wearing a dead fish and not long silky dresses paired with spiky heeled boots.

Your brother squeezes your arms, bringing you back from your thoughts. He’s taller than you but he’s got similar features that leave no doubts to you two being related—same hair color, eye color, and a dimple in his one cheek when he really smiles. He glances over at Nick, raising his eyebrows.

“You must be the boyfriend that I’ve heard so much about,” He offers his hand and Nick takes a step forward to shake it.

“Hopefully good things.” Nick offers back.

You smile, your hand finding his when he’s done greeting Alec, “Only good things.”

“And the occasional rant,” Alec teases, winking in your direction before motioning down the hallway. “C’mon, Gina is excited to see you too.”

Your mother clasps her hands together, humming, “Dinner should be ready in a few minutes here.”

Drawing in a breath, you glance over at Nick and press a kiss to his cheek as you follow everyone towards the kitchen. Gina is there in an apron, helping your mother put the finishing touches on anything that still needs to be done. She’s got her long, blonde hair tied up in a loose ponytail, a pretty pink lipstick bringing out the shades of blue in her eyes—she’s the type of easy beauty you wish you could pull off. When she looks up and notices you, she gives a bright smile as you all come in.

Introductions are gone through again and Gina gives you a firm hug before offering a piece of cucumber that she’s cut for the salad that’s in a bowl in front of her. You take it with a hum, popping it into your mouth. You don’t see your dad anywhere, but knowing him, he’s probably in front of a football game in the living room as he waits for everything to get set up. Or maybe even trying to figure out what bottle of wine to put on the table to go with the food at dinner.

“We’re going to need another plate setting.” Carole comments and even though her tone is light, you know her well enough to detect a slight edge. “Not sure if there’s going to be enough food…”

“There will be more than enough,” Alec comments, pouring himself some more water. He cuts off the fabricated hysteria before it can start and you give him a small, grateful smile.

Leaning your elbows against the counter, Nick stands beside you, his hand resting on your lower back, “Want some help?” You ask Gina, she’s been cutting cucumbers but there’s still other things to do. You feel like doing something with your hands will only help with the nervous energy.

“Sure,” She grins and shares the cutting board with you, grabbing a knife so you can begin slicing cherry tomatoes in half. “Your birthday is coming up, isn’t it?” She asks and you nod—within the next month. “Did you decide what you wanted to do? Alec said you were thinking about Italy?”

You scoff out a laugh, “I wasn’t being serious. I just said it’d be cool to go one day because I’ve never been.”

Gina lets out a romantic sigh, glancing at your brother, “I’ve been trying to convince him to do our honeymoon there. So I understand the pull.”

You grin, “Let me guess, he’s happy with going to Disney World.”

“Hey,” Alec huffs, playfully smacking your leg with a dish towel, “It’s the happiest place on earth.”

Another laugh leaves your lips and Nick brushes a kiss at your temple; you don’t need to look at him to know he’s smiling. “I’m not debating that. Cinderella’s castle is super romantic.”

Gina rolls her eyes but it’s that kind of love, you recognize, in which she’d do anything for Alec. Even a honeymoon in Disney. But knowing your brother, he already has something up his sleeves that involves Italy, just like his fiancée wants. It’s one of the reasons you were talking about it on the phone, not just your whims for a birthday trip. Though it’d definitely be nice.

“I’ve been taking Italian lessons just in case,” Gina then shares, gathering up a small stack of cut cucumbers into her hands and plopping them into the salad bowl. “Waking up in Florence, can you imagine?”

“I told Y/N that’s where we could go,” Nick shares, raising his eyebrows with a soft smile.

And he has. He’s offered you that getaway option for your birthday. You, him, Lion and Jenna escaping to Italian cities, as many as you could fit in distance-wise the week of you turning a year older. But…you can’t possibly shirk responsibilities for that, right? You’ve got a day job and college classes coming up to fill for your teaching degree. Not to mention you’re kinda strapped for cash unlike the three of them are. Nick has never suggested for a moment that you’d need to pay for anything but…you’re not sure if you’re comfortable with that.

Regardless of how romantic it is.

“And I told Nick that it’s way too much.”

He smirks a little, which is mostly just air leaving his nose. He squeezes your side almost in a purposely ticklish place so your body arches closer to his own, “And I told you that your birthday is worth it.” You know what he’s saying, that you’re worth it. You can’t help but smile, shaking your head as you lean over and plant a quick and soft kiss to his lips.

Gina hums, her eyes darting between the two of you, “Alec, I hope you’re writing down notes on romance.”

Alec grunts but he’s smiling, mostly at Gina, “Actually I’m ignoring everything that has to do with my sister at the moment.” He does motion towards the other end of the kitchen though, where it leads into a study, “You any good at pool, Nick?”

Nick nods, “I can hold my own.”

You playfully bump your hip against his, encouraging him to follow your brother in that direction. Dinner is almost done anyways, so it’s not like there’s much to do in the kitchen as you and Gina finish this salad. You’ve been wondering why your mother has been so silent but it’s then you realize she’s left the kitchen at some point, probably to go find your father. Relief splinters throughout your body that she didn’t hear about your birthday aspirations. Though you know that just means that dinner will probably have even worse commentary than if she would have been in here to give her criticisms on all the Italy talk.

Nick pulls away slightly, his gaze finding yours and holding it for a moment. He’s making sure you’ll be alright if he leaves and while you appreciate the sentiment, you like the idea of him getting to know your brother, having some time with him. When you nod, he leans forward and brushes a kiss over your forehead before following Alec out of the room.

Letting out a long breath, you look up at Gina, who’s wearing a warm expression. “What?” You laugh.

“Nothing,” She shrugs, “He’s really sweet. Nick.”

You hum knowingly, grabbing another tomato to cut in half, “He is.” And a hundred other things running through your thoughts, “Still not sure what he’s doing with me,” You joke, “I dunno how I got so lucky.”

Gina just smiles, her gaze wandering towards where Alec and Nick went. “I know exactly what you mean.”

—

After helping Gina with the salad, you wander past the study in search of your father to let him know it’s time to eat. A small smile tugs the corners of your mouth as you hear the soft echo of Nick and Alec ribbing one another over the pool table, not keeping score but having a good time anyways. It touches something deep in your chest that they’re getting along, both of them important to you in different ways. Especially with how difficult family can be.

Speaking of, you round the corner and pause at the small wine cellar that’s attached to your father’s office, watching him examine a bottle in his hands.

“Dinner’s ready, dad.”

He looks up, adjusting his glasses, “Oh, Y/N.” There’s a once-over on your dress, a prickle between his eyebrows because he recognizes it, then, “I’m just preparing you, your mother wants to talk about a few things at dinner.”

You sigh softly—that can only be about one thing.

“Even though the ‘prince that was promised’ is here?” You mumble under your breath and then wince about that because…your anger, your jealousy, is not with your brother. Not really. Rubbing the back of your neck, you straighten your shoulders.

“Shouldn’t we focus on Alec? There’s plenty to ask him about his business and the wedding.” There’s no need to talk about me, whispers against the back of your mind, almost out of your mouth.

Your father gives you a tired look, like this song and dance isn’t new, so why are you putting up a fuss? “You know your mother. This wouldn’t be so painful if you considered what she’s trying to tell you. We only have your best interests in mind.”

Except it doesn’t feel like that at all. Instead, it feels like the fifth time in the variation of this conversation, of not being heard, of being disregarded. You think that hurts the most—what you want isn’t considered. It’s merely pushed aside as something irrelevant.

“Dad…”

“Y/N.” He replies, tone final, taking his glasses off. He looks at you calculatingly, like one would a bottle of wine.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek, the bridge of your nose stinging as you shake your head, dismissing the words stuck in your throat. What would be the point? The acquisition might be led by your mother, but your father is just as complicit—a silent bystander, never adding to the conversation but never being helpful, either. Never on your side.

You turn to head upstairs, slipping inside the bathroom to compose yourself. You don’t dare look at yourself in the mirror, afraid of what you’d see there. That stupid fucking dress feeling like it’s getting tighter around your throat by the minute. You stare at the porcelain sink, your eyes filling with tears. Blinking rapidly to clear them, you sniffle, wiping one away that skitters down your cheek.

Taking a few moments to breathe and run your fingers under your eyes, you eventually open the door, turning to go down the hall towards the dining room—

And see Nick waiting for you right outside the bathroom. He’s leaning against the wall, his gaze drinking you in the moment you’re in his frame of view.

He takes one look at your face before, “We can leave if you want.”

A wet scoff leaves your lips, “I wish that’s what I wanted.”

But he reads the unspoken words beneath the ones you’ve said. You wish your parents supported you, respected you, that they’d just make things easy. Like they do with Alec.

There’s a question in his eyes as he lifts a hand to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb over the bone where the rest of your tears haven’t fallen yet. You bite down on the side of your tongue so that they don’t. It’s not worth it. You know that.

And then, like you’ve been trying to do more of, you share how you feel with someone who’s always been in your corner. “My dad basically just said to grin and bear it through dinner.”

Nick’s face clouds over in a telltale sign that he is not pleased with what’s been said to you—that you basically just have to endure whatever hurtful words are spat over the tablecloth and fancy dishes.

Sighing softly, you shake your head. “Don’t.” You whisper. “It’s one dinner.”

“It’s not.” His voice is quiet but sharp, a knife wrapped in velvet. “That’s another reason why I’m pissed off.”

Meaning they’re like this to you all the time, any time they feel like they can get away with it. And that’s why it’s even more fucked up—your parents aren’t doing this to be malicious. They just…don’t consider your feelings, don’t seriously take how you want your future to go. There’s a lack of respect that you can’t understand. But you’ve lived with it your whole life, you’ve tried to fight those battles, you’ve stood up for yourself the best that you can. What else is there? Totally cutting yourself off from your parents? You’re not sure if you’re ready for something like that…if you could do it.

You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his. “Best behavior,” You tease lightly, trying to steer him away from looking so murderous. “Remember?”

He lets out a slow breath out of his nose, a halfhearted eyeroll. His jaw clenches but eventually he nods, tone gentle and at odds with how upset he is. Angry on the behalf of you. And it means more to you than you think you can voice without crying.

“Come here,” Nick encourages you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. He squeezes you tightly, as if he can convey without words how much you mean to him. You read him loud and clear, allowing your eyes to close so you can focus on stopping your lower lip from wobbling.

Your arms snake around his waist, one of your hands holding onto his sweater like a lifeline, until your pulse slows. And when you eventually have to pull apart, he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth and holds onto your hand to lead you into the dining room where your family is waiting.

—

Dinner starts off as it usually does—easy. The conversation is light as dishes are passed around and drinks are poured. Your mother has made your brother’s favorite meal, which is lasagna. Even though you’ve never been a fan of fennel, you pile a large piece onto your plate and eat your fill of it. You’re mostly just here for the warm bread and butter and your dad’s apple pie dessert. After finishing one piece of bread, the basket suddenly appears by your plate again and when you turn to glance at Nick beside you, he offers a playful wink.

You can’t help but smile, grabbing another piece and lathering it up in butter before having a bite. Nick’s mellowed out a little as everyone started eating, but you think it’s for your benefit more than anything else, to help you feel relaxed. You’re not going to lie and say it hasn’t helped.

Pushing thoughts of the words exchanged with your father aside, you pay attention to your brother as he fills your parents in on how his job is going. He just got a raise last year, so he’s headed in the right direction with his company. You’re perfectly happy with the conversation bypassing you, flitting through the air back and forth between Alec explaining aspects of his job or life in New York and your parents offering encouraging sounds and hopeful words.

Except you know better, because it never stays like that.

“That’s what we’ve been trying to discuss with Y/N.” You tilt your head up at your name being said, eyes landing on your mother. So it begins. “A job needs to have a clear ladder of success.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek—by ‘success’, you know she means ‘money’.

Alec lets out a breath, but he’s smiling as he purposely twists what she’s saying by using the job you have now instead of the one your mother is talking about, “Oh c’mon mom, Y/N climbs ladders every day at the bookstore.”

A soft giggle rumbles in Gina’s chest, her hand slipping over Alec’s in solidarity and you can’t help but smile at your brother too. Your parents don’t approve of the direction your life is going in, but what else is new? You’re pretty sure you could pick anything under the sun to pursue and they’d have some sort of issue with it.

It just so happens you want to be a teacher, maybe elementary, maybe middle…you haven’t decided yet. But that’s the whole point of college, to figure it out. At the very least, you know you want to teach art, so you’re navigating what classes line up with the education ones you need. But you’re really serious about it…and everyone that matters has been supportive. After talking with your father, you’re reminded that even if you followed what your parents wanted to a T— went to the college they picked, pursued the job they selected, eventually married whoever they deemed worthy, they still wouldn’t be satisfied.

You take a very small amount of comfort in that.

Nick clears his throat, turning to look towards your father, “My dad mentioned the company that you work at the other day, Mr. Y/L/N. Something about a joint project coming up?”

Your father’s eyes light up a bit at the attention and you could practically kiss Nick over his plate of lasagna for the shift in discussion. Even though he’s listening to your father’s reply, his hand moves under the table to rest on your knee, giving it a comforting squeeze. You lean a little into the touch, allowing it to distract you as you put another small portion of food on your plate. You’re getting full but even so, you’re hoping Nick meant what he said about a diner stop after this. You feel like a cleanse of crispy fries and thick milkshakes is just what you need.

When everyone eats what they want, the table lingers and talks before dessert and coffee. You’re almost hopeful at getting through this dinner with your parents unscathed but…it’s wishful thinking as the conversation pendulum swings back in your direction when Alec asks,

“So you ready for college?” He has another sip of wine after Gina fills his glass, “You know, I was thinking about that arts and crafts program you do at the bookstore—it'll probably look great on a resume for your teaching job.”

Warmth spreads throughout your chest at being seen. Alec’s always encouraged your journey in figuring out what you want to do with teaching and the fact that he brings it up means more to you than you can express with words. But that same warmth is quickly snuffed out when your mother interjects,

“I’m still unsure how that is part of your responsibility at the bookstore,” She shakes her head, “It’s like taking care of someone else’s children at a daycare.”

You straighten your shoulders, letting her words roll off. You give yourself a moment before you reply, not wanting to say something you’ll regret, and have another forkful of lasagna. It’s beginning to taste like ash on your tongue.

“It’s something I asked my boss if we could do,” You shrug, “There’s a lot of kids who come in after school and places like libraries have those sorts of things all the time. I just figured it might be a good idea.”

Not to mention, a lot of the kids stick around and then pick out books to read—and really, isn’t that the whole point? To get them excited about reading?

“It is,” Nick reassures about it being a good idea, his hand squeezing your knee again. Your own slips under the table and brushes your fingers over his, playing with a ring that’s on one of his fingers.

There’s a blinking red light in the back of your mind that tells you to stop while you’re behind, but your mother’s tone digs right under your skin. That she can’t find anything worthwhile about the time you’re spending building experience with what you want to do with your future, that you obviously love art and working with kids. That teaching is something you want to do.

You draw in a calming breath, trying to straighten your spine and not feel like a deflated balloon. “Besides, teaching will be a lot more than that?” You tell her, “Looking after someone’s kids, I mean. It’s—”

She gives you a look that is almost amusement but it’s obviously at your expense, like you’re the one misunderstanding here, and it cuts you off at the knees— “I’m just trying to get you to understand that you can find a job that not anyone can do.” She has a slow sip of her wine, cutting into another piece of lasagna. “You can pull a random person off the street to become a teacher.”

Her words hit like a slap to the face, your cheeks heating with embarrassment even though you know what she’s saying isn’t true. But the fact that she’s equated teaching with being an ‘easy’ profession that anyone can do…it just goes to show that she knows nothing about what being a teacher is. It’s so much deeper than people give it credit for, it’s so much more than just building and carrying out curriculum.

Nick bristles beside you, his hand shifting to grip yours when it begins to tremble. Fuck, you should have known better than to try and have this conversation right now, so openly at the dinner table. It’s not worth it—your mom is someone who will never see eye-to-eye about this. You knew this was coming and yet you still pushed forward, tried. You feel like a fool even though you know that’s the furthest thing from being true.

You clear your throat, trying to remove the lump that’s found a home there, not daring to look across the table at your brother or Gina because you don’t want to do something stupid like cry.

“Well, I guess we can agree to disagree.” You reply, voice as even as you can make it. You just want the subject to shift into something else. Nick’s thumb brushes over your knuckles and when your mother makes a soft noise of contempt, you chance a glance at your boyfriend.

“We’re not going to ‘disagree’ about something as important as your future.”

Nick’s body is still but there’s an undercurrent of ice settling in the usual warmth of his brown eyes, a muscle flexing in his jaw like he’s grinding his molars so he doesn’t say something. He lets out a slow breath from his nose, picking up his water to have a sip—

“You’ll end up a glorified babysitter, it’s not a job to be taken seriously.”

And then his restraint snaps. “That’s enough.”

The phrase is sharp and commanding, settling in the room like a nuclear bomb. The aftermath is utter silence in which you almost need to hold your breath, like you might have imagined Nick speaking up. But you didn’t, because your mother’s face almost turns red at being scolded.

“I beg your pardon?” She’s practically choking silverware in her hands.

You’re holding onto Nick’s hand so tightly that you’ve got to be hurting him, but all he does is brush a soothing thumb along your knuckles again. You want to say something, to cut this conversation in half, to somehow…move on? But you know by the stance of Nick’s body that he’s not backing down from metaphorically stepping in-between you and your mother. He might not be in the ring but it doesn’t change that he’s geared up for a fight.

“With all due respect, you heard what I said.” To his credit, Nick’s tone doesn’t change. His voice doesn’t elevate, his anger is cold. Which somehow makes it worse. “You’re belittling her into making her feel like she’s less than she is because, what? She wants to be a teacher?” He lets a slow breath from his nose. “I can think of worse things. Like monotonously clicking open a spreadsheet or endless conference calls with China over what supplies they need to order. There are other ways a job can pay that has nothing to do with money.”

He glances towards your brother. “No offense.”

Alec’s lips twitch into an almost smile, shaking his head, “None taken—it’s definitely not for everyone. And neither is teaching, that takes someone special.” Which goes directly against what your mother has said about how ‘anyone’ can jump into that job.

Your father at least has the decency to look a tiny bit ashamed, but he doesn’t intervene. He never does. At this point in your life, you don’t expect him to. He never wants to deal with the backlash so he just lets her be like this. Because it’s easier.

Your mother just lets out an offended gasp, her hand resting near her collarbone like she’s trying to control her reaction. Her animosity, however, is not directed towards your brother at all—her lazer focus is on Nick.

“Your father will be severely disappointed when he hears how rude you’re being after you were invited into our home—to a dinner you weren’t supposed to be at, mind you.”

You get the implication immediately. You never told her Nick was coming, that your mother considers this a family only dinner.

But Nick is your person.

When he feels you tense up beside him, ready to defend him, he shifts his hand so that he’s squeezing your wrist, stopping you from saying anything. Your mother’s comment lands flat, Nick’s not threatened or flustered in the slightest as he calmly puts the napkin that was on his lap onto the table in front of him.

“The only thing my father is going to be disappointed in is the fact that I didn’t open my mouth sooner.”

Your mother actually sputters but Nick doesn’t respond with anything else, the implication is clear: she can say whatever she wants about him, but he’s not going to sit here any longer and listen to her disrespect you.

Whatever Carole is about to say, it’s silenced by your father putting his hand on her arm. She straightens her back, hard lines on her face as her eyes alight with flames, “I think it’s time you showed yourself out.”

Nick is standing before she even finishes her sentence and you begin to follow him, tossing your napkin on the counter. You’re certainly not staying here without him. Alec clears his throat,

“I think you owe her an apology, mom.”

“Don’t,” You manage softly, finding your voice, “It’s alright Alec.”

It’s not, but you appreciate him. His jaw ticks, like he wants to argue, but eventually nods softly before looking over at Nick.

“Really nice to meet you.” And you can read right through that too, he likes Nick, approves of what’s just happened with the attempt to put your mom into her place.

It probably won’t help in the long-run, but you can’t help but feel a flicker of warmth behind your ribcage at being so thoroughly stood up for. It means everything to have him in your corner.

Nick gives him a small smile before nodding his head at Gina too, “Yeah, likewise.”

He puts his hand on your lower back, guiding you out of the dining room and down the hall to where his coat is hanging up. You can hear the hushed voices of Alec arguing with your mother but you don’t try to listen to what they’re saying, you’re just happy to be leaving. Your boyfriend tugs his leather jacket from the closet and you follow him outside towards his McLaren.

He pauses in front of the car, turning to drape his jacket over your shoulders. He gently pulls the fabric closed over your chest, using it as momentum to tug you closer. You let out a soft sigh, not even realizing that you’re still shaking a little bit until you slide your arms through the sleeves.

Tilting your chin up to look at him, you whisper a small, “Thank you.”

Nick shakes his head, “You alright?”

You manage a small smile because…no. Not really. Despite having Nick stand up for you and how good that felt, it unfortunately doesn’t change the fact that he needed to do it in the first place. It’s heartbreaking and discouraging that your mother is so against something that obviously makes you happy? Your father seems indifferent, but that silence does nothing but fuel your mother’s fire.

Nick’s gaze softens, his hands cupping both of your cheeks before he leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth. You swallow over that lump returning to your throat, closing your eyes before tears can form, the bridge of your nose stinging. He shifts to wrap his arms around you, drawing you against his chest, his one hand clasping the back of your neck while the other rubs up and down your spine.

He holds you for a few minutes, your face tucked into his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of his laundry detergent and something purely him.

“C’mon,” He says softly, “Let’s get you home,” His house, which honestly feels more like home than where you just left. “Cut that dress off you.”

You sniffle out a laugh as you pull back, nodding as he opens the passenger door for you. That awful feeling that lingers from dinner automatically begins to dissipate the moment Nick’s hand finds yours as you back up out of the driveway.

—

Nick holds that promise, he uses scissors to cut you right out of that dress despite the zipper working perfectly fine. A series of occasional giggles leave your lips, your hands covering your mouth, but you think that’s his intention. He presses random kisses along your body—your arm, your waist, your hip, your thigh…and then lifts you up onto his bathroom counter. He slips down between your legs, your dress falling in a flourish to the floor, forgotten about. He kisses the center of you, the seam of your lips through your underwear.

Your breathing shudders, your hand running through his curls, keeping him as close as possible.

He tugs your underwear aside, sliding his tongue along your slit and the moan that leaves your mouth echoes against the tiles of the bathroom. He definitely smirks against you, your legs widening as much as you can without losing the ability to ground yourself. Your eyes flutter closed when he begins to circle your clit and it takes such a short amount of time for Nick to have heat spinning through your veins. It begins to gather in pulsing waves in your lower belly, building and building—

Then his tongue slips inside you and fuck. The way he’s able to use his mouth should really be studied for science.

“Nick,” A breathless noise leaves you, warning him you’re about to cum.

He hums, bringing his attention back to your swollen clit, and within moments you shatter. You completely fall apart against him. He holds you steady, drawing out your orgasm until you begin to close your legs from sharp sensitivity. Your hips jerk with a soft whimper and Nick shifts as you lean back until your spine rests against the mirror.

He smiles up at you, lips wet from your arousal, curls mussed from your fingers running through them. His elbows rest on either side of your legs until you cup his cheek, encouraging him closer by playfully pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. Leaning down to kiss him, a soft moan leaves your throat, your other hand attempting to slide down between your bodies.

But Nick leans away, shaking his head a little, his fingers squeezing your wrist. Your eyebrows draw together, voice slightly breathless when you talk, “But you didn’t…”

“I know,” He whispers, running his thumb along your pulse point, “That was just for you.”

That warm, fuzzy feeling behind your chest blooms outward and you can’t help but smile as your lips brush his, drawing him into another kiss. It’s something lazy and languid that takes time until he pulls you into his arms, carrying you to bed.

—

Once you’ve both changed into comfortable clothes, which consists of a t-shirt and a new pair of underwear for you, Nick in his boxer briefs and an open zip-up hoodie, you lean against a pile of pillows along the headboard. The fries that you picked up at the diner are a little worse for wear since it took you so long to get to them, but neither of you seem to be bothered by it. Picking up your milkshake from the nightstand, you have a long sip, humming at the pleasant taste of chocolate smoothing over your tastebuds.

Your phone buzzes with a few texts from your brother,

Alec: sorry about mom, should have said something sooner Alec: Nick’s a really good guy, I like him…even though his confidence in pool is questionable Alec: hang out tomorrow? Just you and me?

You smile at the messages, hearting the one about Nick and giving a thumbs-up at the last one before setting your phone face down on his nightstand. Giving up on the fries, you turn to lie on your side, propping yourself against Nick as your TV plays a random movie. You’re not paying attention to it though, for the most part your gaze keeps wandering towards your boyfriend. The light reflecting from the TV is pretty against his skin, against the soft gold in his curls and you can’t help but smile a little, tucking your chin along his shoulder.

You press a soft kiss there and Nick turns his head, his lips grazing your temple.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He offers—tonight, your mother being the absolute worst, your father’s silence, any of it, all of it. And while you appreciate the offer, his concern, there’s nothing to really discuss. No matter how many times your mother is put into her place, regardless of how you try to explain to her your wants and needs, she’s going to continue to be utterly blind to them. Selfish. There’s nothing to change that.

But dinner kind of made you feel like…maybe that doesn’t matter. You’ve always had people on your side, but tonight solidified just how important it is to only listen to the voices that don’t mean anything.

“No,” You whisper, closing your eyes when he kisses the bridge of your nose, “I’m okay.”

You knew that tonight wasn’t going to be the best, it was to be expected given that you know how your family can be. And yet, you’re so grateful Nick was there, you’re not sure if it would have been something you could have stomached without him.

A twitch of amusement tugs the corners of your lips, remembering something he said when the dinner was brought up in the first place, “So…that was you on your best behavior?”

Nick smirks, eyes warm as he looks down at you. You can read the unspoken words right in his eyes—he has zero regrets about how he acted at that dinner, the things that left his mouth, the way he’s protective over you.

“Definitely.”

#nick leister #nick leister x reader #my fault london #my fault: london #matthew broome #matthew broome x reader #my fault series #my fault london x reader #mccall writes things

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the-psychic-in-me · 3 months ago

Text

Shin Asakura X F!Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Spicy level: 🌶️🌶️

I'm back again on my usual bullshit with another hyper fixation. I wanted to read some fanfics and realized with disappointment that the fandom is severely lacking so I'm here to serve. My fics are not minor friendly and I will mostly write smut or some variation of it. You can also find me on ao3 @QueenRos3

Meeting Shin for the first time when you have an overactive imagination. Let me know if I should continue this or if you have other requests.

It was a nice spring day, finally warm enough so you can leave your coat at home. Just warm enough so you can wear a skirt after some long months of layers upon layers. On your walk you found yourself smiling for no reason, just taking in the scenery. The trees were blooming, you could hear the birds chirping, it was like the seasonal depression was leaving your body to make room for the sun. It was a near perfect day. So perfect that a little self destruction would make you more anchored, so you fished your cigarette pack out of your bag.

Keys, phone, wallet, pack of gum that you forgot about, a half eaten protein bar, some hair ties....aha! The cigarettes!

You brought a cigarette to your lips and lit it, the flame reflecting on your skin. However, it was short-lived as for some reason the cigarette kept getting put out. Confused, you took of your headphones...so you could see better, of course. Why else?

Looking up, all the dark clouds above your head made the answer obvious. With a loud sigh you looked around for a good place to hole up and lose time until it was safe to go home. Who would bring an umbrella on such a sunny day?

It was getting ridiculous, the more you walked the more your disappointment grew. Until you were face to face with a convenience store- Sakamoto's. You've never been here before, but it mattered little to you. If anything, you were hoping you could get an umbrella.

You throw your half-smoked cigarette in the bin before opening the door. Here goes nothing...

The clerk quickly put down what he was reading in order to welcome you.

"Good afternoon! Welcome to Sakamoto's! How can I help you today?"

You scanned him from head to toe in one quick glance.

Gosh, he's cute. I really like his hair.

The store was empty, besides the two of you, so it was easy to hear the clerk gulping loudly.

"You okay...Shin?", you lean in and read his name from the badge on his apron.

Aww, he's blushing. Fuck, I hope I didn't do something weird.

You quickly adjust your clothes and realize your skirt is in the right position.

Wouldn't wanna flash him so fast, you laugh to yourself.

"Y-yeah. I just, I think I need some water.", Shin attempts to be polite although it is somewhat hard for him considering he can read your thoughts.

However, you're both distracted by the sound of thunder, quickly followed by violent raindrops hitting the pavement. Shin gets up from the register and moves a box in the back. You don't pay much attention to the contents of the box as you're more focused on the way his hair falls. It's somehow messy and styled at the same time.

Does he use something or is it just naturally pretty? I could ask him, but would that be weird...

"Umm, I think I will be stuck here for a while. I hope I'm not bothering you..." You look through the empty store.

"Of course not! Stay as long as you like. Would you like some tea while you wait the rain out?"

"That would be wonderful actually! What kind do you have?"

Shin clears his throat and presents you the tea option, however you can't help but feel the tension in the air. He seems nervous? Why is he nervous?

Is he also checking me out? Ugh, I wish. I should go freshen up... Wait! What tea does he like? I zoned out and didn't hear one thing about the tea selection.

"I usually drink black tea as it's closest to coffee, but I might make an exception today.", the blond flashes you a smile, answering the question you didn't have to guts to ask yet.

"Hmm, I might as well have coffee." I chuckle, "But the weather really calls for tea, so... anything fruity I think."

I hope you're not fruity... You can't help but think.

He suddenly coughs, and you just brush it off.

You look him up and down once again.

Probably not fruity. Unless...

"I really expected the weather to be better today... Bet your girlfriend is very disappointed to be alone on such a day."

Please take the bait, please take the bait, please take the bait.

"Thankfully she isn't because I don't have anyone waiting on me."

"Oh,..." You fake some sympathy, "That's good I guess. Thankfully no one is waiting for me either."

After the tea is done infusing you finally take a cautious sip, to not burn your tongue. You watch intently as Shin brings the plastic cup to his lips.

I wonder what his lips feel like...

Shin might be able to brush off the blush that's coating his entire face, threatening to raise to his ears, as the tea being too hot, however his insides are burning for a whole different reason.

"So umm, do you live close by? It's the first time for me in this neighborhood. I'm not sure where to find the station after the rain settles."

He gestures towards the celling, but before he can gather his thoughts you hit him with:

"I get being religious and stuff but implying that you live with the man upstairs is a bit blasphemous..." you attempt to make a joke.

"You're half right.", his low chuckle is doing something to you, "I live upstairs with the owner of the shop."

He's as close to God as you can get, Shin thinks to himself.

"Oh, so you're around a lot.", you add just to keep the conversation going.

It's a bit far but I could make more trips, I said I wanted to take more walks anyway...Your thoughts are filled with various ways in which you could approach him over time in order to gain his favour. You're not afraid of playing the long game. Shin, however, might not be able to resist reading these thoughts over and over every time you come into the store.

"I could walk you to the station, it's not far.", he offers.

"You would? That would be great!"

I wish I could hold his hand on the way, he looks warm...

Once the rain stops, Shin keeps his promise. You meet Lu for a brief few minutes as Shin leaves her in charge while he walks you to the station.

The cold air hits you like a brick once you exit the store. You're shivering, but too nervous to say anything.

"You look cold...Here." He takes off his hoodie and give it to you.

"No, I couldn't. How will I give it back to you?"

However, in fact, you would. You were curious how his hoodie smelled and you wanted to be cozied up in his warmth. You just met him though, was it too much? Whatever, it's not like he can read your mind...

"I insist! And you know where to find me.", the grin he throws you could probably kill a few ladies.

"Give me your phone!", you demand.

He complies without a word, already knowing what your plan is.

"There. That's my number. We can meet sometime so I can return the hoodie after I wash it."

After I have some fun with it, you think.

"Sure, sounds good."

You could keep it for all he cared, but he wanted an excuse to see you again.

You make your way to the station, however Shin walked back slower than usual, lingering enough for you to be in his range.

If I touch myself in his hoodie before I wash it he'd never know, right?...

That was his queue to pick up the pace. He'd rather hear about it from you at a later time... Wait, he'd... Okay, your thoughts were definitely affecting him.

"I'm back, thanks for covering for me!", he addresses Lu as he comes back into the store.

"Sure, no probs. Just...why were the umbrellas in the back?"

"Oh, no reason. I must have put them there by mistake."

#shin asakura #shin asakura x reader #reader x shin asakura #sakamoto days #shin sakamoto days #lemon sakamoto #f!reader #shin sakamoto days x reader #sakamoto days x reader

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leannswritings · 1 month ago

Text

NERD

Syn : could it be that your silly nerdy juntae might not be what he seems.

Warnings - NOT PROOFREAD (I never do that ngl) smut ofc, dom?juntae exhibitionism, lwk don’t remember what else.

Word count : 4.6k (omg?)

A/N : SORRY I TOOK A MIN, exams kicked my ass.. anyways can you tell that I wrote some of this after drinking? lol anyways I saw some ppl wanted smut so I wrote this first ! But trust fluff is coming. It was hard to write this lwk bc like, juntae. But I do think he’s an uncover freak. Lemme know if I did anything wrong. enjoy xoxo.

College isn’t easy, between balancing classes, assignments, and dealing with random men that would ask you out for drinks was rough. The only thing you looked forward to at the moment was break, no worries, no stress, but fun.

This meant that you could hangout more with your friends, especially that cutie Juntae. You two met each other back in middle school when you did student exchange, since you’ve been inseparable, although you chose to come to Korea for university and went to the same school as him, you both still had no time to hangout with each other, only seeing each other off campus. It seemed nobody even knew you were friends on campus or thought you would even look in his direction.

Since it was the final week you decided to visit his side of the campus to surprise him, hoping you would be able to at least go get to some food with him.

“Juntae !”

You called out, waving your hand as he walked down the stairs.

Bystanders watched you as you stood there, those that had classes with him wondered who you were and why you were there for him. Stopping in their tracks to see what would happen next. You were attractive so nobody would’ve guessed you were actually there for HIM, maybe for papers? Or something like that BUT HIM? He looked like a virgin would hadn’t even been alone in a room with a girl before let alone have one as a friend or more.

“What are you doing here”

He smiled softly as he quickly walked towards you. You wrap your arm around one of his, before reaching up and ruffling his hair with your free hand.

“We should go celebrate, we’re almost on break so–”

“YO JUNTAE”

You turn your head to see a man holding a basketball, wearing an odd outfit. Humin..or “Baku” you should say. Behind him stood another guy wearing the same old blue hoodie. Hyuntak. You knew them very well, seeing them in pictures and overhearing them over juntae on the phone, yet somehow you’ve yet to see them more than once in person.

“Woah. Is this the person you always talk about? I understand why you always do now. They’re prettier than I thought they were gonna be.”

Were you supposed to be ugly? You couldn’t help to let out a laugh. The way he worded things never made sense but you knew he didn’t mean any harm, if anything he was probably dumbfounded the “shy” juntae would be around someone like you. You were gonna make fun of what he just said but you decided to make fun of juntae instead, he always had the cutest reaction when you did. Baku had given you the smallest bit of information and you were gonna use to it your advantage.

“You must talk about me a lot? Do you brag about having such a pretty girl by your side? Come on Tae, tell me what you say about me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched his face heat up in real time, you tried to make eye contact with him to tease him even more but he turned his head away from you.

“Hey, Baku right? You should tell me more, I want to know what he says about his pretty best friend.”

You said with a smug look on your face. Baku was about to answer but before he could Juntae interrupted.

“Food. We were going to celebrate right? Let’s go get food.”

“And drinks?”

You added at the end of his sentence.

It’s not like he would tell you no anyways so he just nodded as he started walking with your arm still around his, you used your head the signal for the two boys to follow.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

At the restaurant another one of his friends joined, he was very quiet so you didn’t even notice a new face at the table, he just watched as everyone else talked as he slowly ate. You figured out that was sieun, he was actually super sweet despite the short conversation.

“So, what’s the plan for the summer? I don’t have any, I don’t think I’ll be going home this year.”

You asked. Baku and Gotak of course were training for basketball, Sieun planned to study over the summer and visit his “friend”, Juntae seemed as if he had no plans. His major wasn’t one that required a lot, so if he had anything to do over the summer it would be very short.

“Juntae if you have no plans you should let me stay with you, they’re closing the doors for the summer.”

You said before taking a sip of the Soju in front of you. International dorms were closing for the summer, giving students time to visit their families out of country or to travel, but that meant you had no where to go. This gave you an excuse to be in juntae’s face more but also a place to stay. You hate to admit it– well not really you always threw out signs you liked him by teasing him, but you’d hate to admit you’ve grown a liking to his cute round face and stupid glasses.

“Huh”

“You stay off campus right? Lemme stay with you”

The table was silent, other than the sounds effects that came from Baku’s mouth. Juntae stared for a minute, trying to think of how to answer. You smiled before leaning into to whisper something in his ear, something improper, something that would cause the hairs on his skin to stand up and his pale face turn pink. You scooted back in your seat with a smile on your face before leaning forward to reach for more food. The air being frozen solid—until your smile turned into a laugh.

“Why is everyone so quiet”

You ask you looking around.

“Are you trying to take his purity away? Have you already? Oh our poor juntae”

Baku said in a joking manner, making sad faces and pretending to cry. Tak elbowed him before putting his head down to laugh at the matter. Sieun turning away to hide his smile. Baku continued to joke about juntae, telling you stories about when they were in high-school, stories you never heard from him, stories that made you feel as if you missed out on all the fun.

“Maybe I should’ve done another round of exchange in highschool huh?”

You joked.

The night went on for longer than expected, after paying for the food you expected it to be over but it seemed the night wasn’t over for everyone. Sieun was the only one who left the group early on—which was the the original plan. After a short walk everyone else headed to a bar for a round of drinking, afterwards was a karaoke room. At this point you and Baku have gotten pretty close due to the alcohol and the games. Juntae didn’t drink, while hyuntak kept the drinking to a minimum, someone had to keep their sanity and responsibility—and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be you. After preforming a duet with Baku you sat down next to juntae, picking up another shot glass, you looked at him and instead of drinking it you try and give it to him. He took it but he immediately put down on the table and shook his head to tell you he wasn’t drinking because there was no way you would be able to hear him over the sounds of Baku’s voice on the microphone. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the shining and flashing lights, the blasting music, the alcohol, or just you; but juntae looked different, he was already something you craved but this made it so much worse. Your face started heating up, you slightly scooted closer to him, not soon after you put your legs on the seats and basically crawled to him, trapping him in the corner he was sitting in. You were hovering over his upper body, your face almost touching his face, close enough to feel his short breaths mixing with your heavy breaths before you move over to talk into his ear.

“Juntae.. I want you to keep on your glasses and that same stupid look when you fuck me.”

Your word was slurred and slow, you placed a kiss on his ear before moving down his neck, placing kisses in any spot you could actually recognize in your blurred vision. Juntae pushed you off, trying hard to not push you too hard but just enough to remove you. The room was silent as the music stopped playing and the only thing that could be heard was your mumbling about Juntae and Baku’s drunk laughter. He stood and tried to help you to your feet, putting your arm around him so he could guide you to walk. Tae looked at Baku and then turned to hyuntak and told him, he was gonna take you home, yet hyuntak couldn’t help but nod and just stare at the lipstick on his neck as he walked out of the overly bright room.

“Woah. I didn’t know he was like that.”

Baku said drunkenly.

After leaving it was even more of a battle, trying to get you to stay awake, walk, and stopping you from saying weird things to random bystanders.

It was 2am, so the train was not an option for travel, even if it was in your current state he thought it would be a bad idea to put you on a quiet train. He tried to flag down a taxi multiple times, failing multiple times as you leaned against him. You randomly put up your hand and started waving for a taxi, it’s as if the heavens were on your side and your side only even in your wrecked state. A taxi pulled in front of you both, juntae carefully helped you in before sitting next to you, leaning forward to tell the driver which direction to go in.

The taxi was just right, the lights flashing throughout the car from the passing street lights and business, the moderate temperature in the car, and the stillness reminded you so much of car rides when you were younger. The mood was just right, you could slowly feel yourself falling asleep as everything dimmed. You leaned your head on his shoulder, letting your body rest and your mind drift off into another world.

Juntae let it happen. It was better than your past drunk actions a few moments ago that he had to force himself to ignore. He let you sleep on his shoulder no problem, carefully moving to check his phone to make sure he wouldn’t awake you. While on his phone he thought it would be funny to take a picture of you, that way when you woke up you could see just how much you had truly been drinking and maybe a slight warning to not drink that much anymore. He took a picture, and after started recording, getting close to your face before back the phone back up and showing his neck to the camera.

“This is the first time you’ve drunk so much in front of me, you and Baku don’t need to hangout anymore. When you’re sober, I hope you see this and feel silly.”

He said to the camera, pouting in a way.

As you reached your destination Juntae didn’t want to wake you, so he struggled to pull you out of the car and put you on his back. Reaching in the car to grab your purse carefully. In the moment he couldn’t have been more thankful to stay on the second floor since there was no elevator in his complex. It took him a while to get to his front door due to you moving around and him making sure to not fall down the stairs while carrying you, but he eventually made it after the struggle.

He took you to the room, placing you on the bed before taking off your shoes and tucking you under the covers. He let out a sigh before walking into the living room and falling onto the couch.

When he got to the couch he finally had time to process what happened earlier. He couldn’t lie and say he didn’t enjoy it, but at the same time because he had never seen you so drunk he didn’t know if it was the alcohol or your true feelings towards him. Either way he wouldn’t have sex with you while you weren’t fully conscious, it wouldn’t be right on his part, though he couldn’t get the rushing thoughts out of his mind, how you would look,sound, and taste. His body was starting to heat up, his blood rushing to his lower half. He tried to clear his mind, turning on the tv before eventually forcing himself to go to sleep.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

When you woke up it had to be around noon, the sun was high in the sky and you could hear the slight hum of passing cars. You looked around trying to remember who,what, and where you were and how you got to where you currently are. You looked around the room a few more times before figuring out where you were, but while doing that you started to remember bits and pieces of last night.

“Oh my god.”

You whispered to yourself. The only parts you would remember was the horrible drunk karaoke, getting on top of juntae, and getting in a taxi, everything after that was a blur of consciousness to the point you couldn’t tell what was real and what was fake. You could feel your body warming up from the embarrassment, you couldn’t believe what you have done. You promised to not drink that much anymore—well, not at least for a while.

You got up from the bed and walked out of the room, looking around, searching for juntae. On the table in front of the couch he previously laid on was a note he left. He had headed out to run some errands but had no clue when he was coming back. You let out a sigh and just assumed he would be back soon since you slept so long without knowing what time he left.

You smelled yourself and— oh god you smelled like sweat and alcohol. You felt even more embarrassed at the fact he had to smell you as he carried you. You walked back into his room and looked around, opening drawers and doors to find any clothing you can put on. It’s not like he would mind if you wore his clothes, I mean you used to borrow his stuff back in middle school all the time. You grabbed a shirt and held it up against your body. Last time you borrowed his clothes you were able to fit it perfectly but now everything you picked up was bigger than you. It made you realize how much you and him have grown, you weren’t the same kids from middle school. You grab a few more things and head to the bathroom.

In the shower you had much more time to go into deeper thought. Thinking about all the moments from when you met till now, when you started to like him and how you would go about telling him. Those innocent thoughts turned into the darkest deepest desires that was in the back of your mind, from wondering about how you would confess to wondering how he would look under you. When you thought of juntae you always liked the idea of him being submissive, but at the same time you wondered if he was capable of being dominant and telling you what to do. These thoughts sent waves of heat throughout your body, your hands found themselves exploring your body, touching every part that would make you react. Your mumbles and moans bounced off the walls, because of this and the water you didn’t hear juntae coming into the apartment, nor did you hear him knocking on the door until his voice called out.

“Are you ok in there?”

You immediately froze.

“Mhm— I’m ok”

(Holy shit I’m a pervert)

You replied and thought to yourself you immediately turned off the water and quietly shamed yourself for touching yourself in another persons bathroom. You dried yourself off and put on his clothes before walking out of the bathroom. When you walked out of the bathroom, there he was sitting on the couch with a pillow in his lap. As you walked out you could see the red flush on his face, the flush that got worse after he looked at what you were wearing. He was already turned on from overhearing you in the bathroom, now this? He couldn’t handle it. The grip he had on the pillow tightened as you walked towards him.

“Tae I’m sorry about last night..”

“It’s fine..uh look at this.”

He faced away from you as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery to show you the video from last night. The embarrassment levels were even worse after seeing the video. All you could do was sit there without your mouth open in shock, you already knew you did embarrassing things but oh my.

You grabbed his phone and put it on the table beside you and plopped down on the couch next to him, leaving no space between you two. It didn’t take too long after you sat next to him to realize why he had the pillow there, you wanted to confess first before doing anything with him but you can’t lie when you say your lust was overflowing. You were just gonna be straight up from now on.

“Juntae. I meant what I said and did last night. I like you a lot, and I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted, and clearly you feel the same way.”

You said as you put your hand over the pillow he had in his lap.

“Yeah?”

He turned and looked at you, questioning if you were being serious or not. You nodded your head confirming what you had said was true. After that he wasted no time to throw the pillow out of his lap and pull you into it. His lips crashing into yours as your hands traveled up to hold his face, his hands traveling down to your waist. You could feel him twitching underneath you, causing your hips to rock against it. You broke away from the kiss and traveled down his neck, softly moaning against it and leaving logos of your love wherever you could. He allowed you to do so, making it feel like you had control of the situation, but truthfully he had no intention on letting you be in control. All his emotions has been pent up for the last couple of years and this was finally a chance to let them loose. One of his hands traveled to the back of your neck, using it to slightly pulling you back from his neck and redirecting you back to his lips. Your hips bucked as a response to him taking control. His grip tightened on your hip forcing you to grind slower against him, a pace he could direct. After a few minutes he stood up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he stumbled to the bedroom as y’all continued to make-out. He put you onto the bed before standing in front of you before a sentence you never thought would come out of your mouth did.

“Can I record?”

You don’t know why you asked that, you just wanted it. Juntae looked like he didn’t care what you did, he didn’t say a word. He went out of the room and got his phone off the table and set it up on the stand beside the bed. You enjoyed this, the silent and quick movements, the way he showed how much he really wanted to quickly get inside of you. Your hands shot to his waistband pulling at it, signaling that you want him to take it off. He nodded but before he did he put his hands on your shoulders to guide you to the floor, taking your spot on the bed. In front of him, looking up, your hands once again going to his waistband pulling. This time he pulled it down along with his boxers.

Silence.

“Can you handle it?”

You nod before wrapping your hands around his dick. To be honest you were sure you could handle it, maybe you were tryna look good but you couldn’t hide the slight fear that was mixed with excitement on your face. His hand went to the back of your head, pushing your face closer to his dick before you opened your mouth to accept him in. The wetness and warmth made him throw his head back in a groan. Your tongue wrapped around him, licking at all it could taste. You couldn’t fit it all in your mouth, having too using your hand to stroke what you couldn’t reach at the moment. The sounds that came out of his mouth was nothing but dirty, it was nothing like what you had imagined. Your legs squeezed and rubbed together, trying to put some type of pressure on yourself. You tried to force yourself farther down on him, he eventually grabbed a handful of your hair and forced you down farther.

“Just— stay, stay right there.”

He said shakily

It was clear he was coming towards his climax, his grip on your hair tightened as he forced you to stay in that spot despite your struggle. Finally pulling you back after painting the inside of your mouth white. You were a choking mess, drool going down your chin and tears falling from your eyes. He patted your head as you tried to catch a breath stop yourself from choking.

“You’re ok.”

He calmly reassured as he leaned closer. He didn’t do anything else until you calmed down. You let him know when it was ok to continue by kissing him. He took no time to put you on the bed, he didn’t even worry about taking off the shirt you had on, he liked the view of you in his clothes. When he finally got a glimpse of what was under the shirt he let out a small laugh, you were wearing his way too big for you boxers that was practically falling off of you. He leaned back up and started kissing your neck and collarbone as he pulled down the boxers. Finally he got a glimpse at the real you. The naked you. The wet you.

“You’re enjoying this a lot aren’t you?”

He said with a smile. Looking at how wet you had gotten.

“So are you.”

You replied.

He didn’t say anything else, he just looked at you with the deepest lust filled eyes, just to mess with you. He used his dick to trace down from your belly button to your lips, rubbing against them. He did this just to tease you, just to see how you would respond. You knew what you needed and so did he, yet he stalled and rubbed against you instead of going in.

“Tae—“

You said as you let go of the sheets and reached down to direct him to your entrance, only for him to grab your hands and move them out of the way.

“Can’t wait ?”

He said in a smug ass way, the vocal tone annoyed you, it reminded you of the stupid tone he used to debate about the manga he’d read. The tone you hated being used in this context was.. annoying but in an attractive way.

“Stop playing already..”

“Is that a yes? You can’t wait any longer can you? You’re so impatient.”

It was clear he was getting impatient also, every word was followed by a pant, but he liked how you looked when you were getting overly upset.

“Yes, I’m being serious Tae please ju—“

That all he needed to hear. Without any warning he slammed himself into you, causing you to let out a sound that was a mix of pain and pleasure. Your hands found his clothed shoulders, gripping onto them as tightly as you could. The pace wasn’t too fast or too slow, it was just right, giving you time to get used too. You turned your head to the side to avoid eye contact with him, all that confidence left your body after you started making sounds you were slightly embarrassed of. All of a sudden you feel a grip on your face forcing your head to face forward.

“You wanted to see me right? My stupid face? In these glasses? Then don’t look away, keep looking.”

He held your face in position as he kept at a constant pace. Your legs eventually wrapping around him and arms pulling him towards you signaling for a kiss. He complied and leaned into your kiss, his hand still holding you in place. When he pulled away from the kiss he moved down your face to your jaw and then your neck, kissing and sucking at what he could leaving the same marks you had previously left on him. His hand left your face and traveled up your borrowed shirt. He traced the outline of your chest with his fingers before taking a handful of your boob in his hand, using his thumb to play with your nipples. He played with them as if he had gotten a new joystick on a controller, circling and pinching at it. The noises that crowded the room was unholy, between your moans, small untranslatable comments, and his mix of groaning and whimpering. His glasses started to fog up, which annoyed him, annoyed him enough to speed up his pace. He pulled back up and eventually took off his glasses and threw them in a random direction, and took off his shirt in a few swift motions.

“Fuck..”

The first time you’ve heard him cuss, and oh was it attractive. Your legs tried to tighten around him, more than you already were, there was no possible way to tighten it even more. You once again pulled him back into you, clawing at his back. You could feel yourself getting close to your climax, your words getting more slurred, you wouldn’t be surprised if you were drooling at this point. Of course like everything, he noticed this too. Though your bodies were close he tried to move his hand between you and press down on your stomach as much as he could. It was like an out of body experience, maybe because it had been a while since you’ve been with someone or maybe he was just this good. You could even give him a warning other than your noises getting louder and worse before you released on him. There was no stopping after that, he went at the fastest speed could, taking advantage of your sensitivity, leaving you in a state you could’ve never imagined yourself.

He soon followed you, pulling out and cumming on your stomach.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He helped clean you up, softly talking to you, contradicting his voice and words earlier. After you both cleaned up he helped you to the living room your legs still shaking. Once you sat on the couch you turned your head to see a shadow by the window. You got Juntae’s attention and pointed at the window. He walked over and went to open the door, once he looked out he saw Baku standing beside the door and Tak sitting on the ground next to him.

“How long have you been out here?”

“Too long. Too long friend.”

Baku said with a painfully jolly expression on his face. He lifted up a bag which seemed like a to-go from a chicken spot.

“Let’s eat, you need the nutrition.”

He said wrapping his arm around him.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

(A/N) Lwk, I can imagine Juntae showing someone a picture and then they swipe and see the video.. no? Just me?

#weak hero class 1 #weak hero class two #whc1 x reader #whc2 #whc smut #fanfic #weak hero class x reader #seo juntae #juntae x reader

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