#that stylist need firing. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoshifighting · 2 months ago

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WARNINGS: idol!reader getting injured (arm), accident mention, smut, fingering, oral (f. &m. rec), ovulation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, handjob, attentive sex? (due to reader's injury), dirty talk.

staff!seungcheol who’s got that severe look, eyes attached to every inch of you like he’s memorizing it. he’s standing close, flashlight in hand, checking every damn speck of glitter on your face like he’s planning on personally suing each one that doesn’t sparkle just right. like you're some kind of precious artifact he needs to make sure is flawless. there’s this faint crease between his brows as he leans in, like he’s got a checklist of your entire existence in his mind, murmuring “lemme see, hold still,” like you’re the one shifting around with his hands practically cupping your face. the makeup artist’s just nervously holding her breath in the background.

doesn’t even flinch when he sees the tiny smudge, just calmly points it out while you try not to roll your eyes. “needs fixing,” he says, stepping back only when he’s satisfied, waving the makeup artist over with a quick hand gesture.

“alright, open up,” then there’s staff!seungcheol who’s already one step ahead, holding up that tiny spray bottle of propolis like it’s the holy grail of vocal cords. he gives you a knowing look as you open your mouth for him to spray it down your throat. “don’t choke on it this time,” he says, like you didn’t just cough last night but committed a fucking crime. the spray hits your throat, sharp and herbal, and you pull a disgusted face.

“that’s awful, seungcheol,” you croak, trying to rub it off your tongue.

“and it works,” he fires back, deadpan, already watching you like you’re gonna start talking back too loud. but there’s this smirk tugging at the edge of his lips, like he’s clocking the way you’re fussing.

staff!seungcheol who’s already got a scrunchie on his wrist just for you, flicking it like a badge of honor when the fashion team rushes in, hands full of fabric and pins. “back up,” he tells them, waving them off like some sort of bodyguard-turned-stylist. he steps in, gathering your hair up with this weirdly gentle touch, pulling it back like he’s done this a million times. and he has. you’re used to the low murmur of his voice, saying stuff like “look down,” or “tilt your head,” pulling your hair back as you rip off one outfit, practically wrestling yourself into another.

and yeah, he's seen it all, seen you stripped down to a bunch of mismatched pieces of clothes, practically naked with pins and sequins scattered around. he’s the only one who gets to stay in the room when it’s time to swap outfits, hands moving steady over zippers and hooks without batting an eye. he’s too professional for that.

but sometimes you’ll catch the way his eyes flash, quick as anything, over your bare shoulder, the curve of your waist, or the bend of yourback. lingering just a second too long before he’s tugging fabric back over you. “hold your arms up,” he says, voice so steady it’s almost annoying, but there’s this barely-there flush on his face, one he probably thinks you don’t notice. only once you're decent does he call in the fashion team again, his hand lingering on your shoulder just a second longer, like some silent encouragement.

“think i’ll survive tonight, boss?” you shoot over your shoulder as he tightens up a corset, his fingers brushing your back.

“if you can keep that mouth of yours shut for two minutes, maybe,” he mutters, yanking the laces just a little too tight.

staff!seungcheol who seems to have every little detail about you learned by heart, right down to the shade of foundation that works best under stage lights and the exact temperature of water you like before singing. he’s like a walking encyclopedia on “you,” this intense manager who somehow knows you better than you know yourself some days. it’s kinda crazy when you think about it—how much attention he puts into the smallest things, like checking your posture right before you step onto the stage, brushing an imaginary dust speck off your shoulder, or even noticing when you’re tired just from a tiny slump in your stance. there’s this wild, almost comforting feeling in knowing someone’s watching that close, picking up on what you need before you even have to say it.

staff!seungcheol who doesn’t just care about the professional side of things but pays attention to you as a whole person. you’ll be pacing before a show, a mess of nerves, and he’ll pull you aside, hands firm on your shoulders, telling you to breathe, to ground yourself. “hey, it’s just one show out of many,” he’ll say, like he’s reminding you that this isn’t the end of the world. sometimes, he’ll even pull out a joke, something random to get you out of your head, his voice warm, more calming than he probably even realizes.

staff!seungcheol who’s a human wall when it comes to fans or any kind of chaos. he’s got this built-in radar for spotting trouble in a crowd, and the way he just moves through people, ushering you along like he’s a bodyguard instead of just your manager—it’s unreal. you know the crew’s got security, but it’s always him who stands closest, always him who angles himself slightly in front of you, making sure nothing gets in the way. he’s not overbearing, either; it’s this subtle, constant thing, like he’s built to be in tune with you and the space around you.

and it’s not just the big stuff. like, he’s a fiend about the little things, too. if he sees you adjusting your outfit or tugging at your sleeves, he’s immediately there, straightening the hem or re-pinning a loose detail. he’s the kind of guy who’ll silently hand you a tissue if he sees a tiny smudge of lipstick on your teeth, or he’ll have that emergency stain remover in his pocket just in case you spill something on your outfit last-minute.

staff!seungcheol who somehow makes you feel both overprotected and ridiculously independent. he’s right there if you mess up, catching you before you can fall—literally and metaphorically. he’ll laugh about it after the fact, maybe make some quip about how you owe him for always “saving your ass,” but in the moment, he’s solid as hell, totally serious. it’s like he lives for making sure everything in your world runs smoothly, yet he’s always subtly pushing you to handle things yourself, too.

then, there’s the crazy amount of trust he has in you, even though he’s like the over-prepared captain of the team. like, he’ll go through the checklist with everyone—makeup, wardrobe, lighting, sound—and he’s triple-checked it all, down to the damn microphone battery. but when it comes time for you to perform, he just gives you this look that says he knows you’re gonna kill it, and in that weir silence, it’s like he’s handing everything over, telling you without words, “i’ve got the logistics; you just be you.”

staff!seungcheol who, when you’re touring his hometown, suddenly seems way more focused on making sure you’re comfy than anything else—an entire list prepared, of all the places he wants to show you. but first, there’s the “family dinner” situation. he’s practically droning with nerves as he introduces you to his family, calling you his boss, and you’re just gritting your teeth, whispering to him with a grin, “seungcheol, quit it—i told you, just my name.” he just smirks, playing it off, even if it’s clear he’s a little embarrassed, especially when his mom starts calling him out on every little thing he used to do as a kid.

staff!seungcheol who, thanks to your fans, has become practically famous on his own. every time you two walk through an airport, you can hear them calling his name, practically chanting it at this point, pointing out “the hot manager.” and there he is, looking away, rubbing his neck or practically burying his face into your shoulder

he’ll tug at your sleeve like a kid hiding behind their mom, he gets especially flustered when you turn it on him, all smug, saying, “y’know, i must be the luckiest one here, getting to have a handsome manager like you walking me around.” he rolls his eyes, a rare laugh slipping out as he mutters something sarcastic, trying so hard to brush it off, but you know he secretly loves it, the tips of his ears going pink.

and it’s not just for show. once you’re on your off time after a show, seungcheol’s literally all over the place, making sure you don’t lift a finger. he’s there, picking up menus, already knowing what you’ll want and what to skip (yes olives or goodbye olives). he’s at the counter, practically fighting to swipe your card before you can even think about it. it’s like he’s taken the whole ��manager” title to heart, as if your well-being is his full-time mission.

he’s got this sixth sense for how you’re feeling too. the second you’re showing signs of exhaustion, he’s hunting for a place to sit, guiding you to a cozy bench or a shady spot under a tree like he’s found the red dot on a map. he even maps out little stops he thinks you’d like, you can’t even remember the last time you needed to decide on where to go.

staff!seungcheol who’ll walk around the city with you, way more relaxed now that he’s on familiar ground, all while pointing out tiny things he remembers from his own life. he’ll say, “used to skip class and hang out here,” or, “this place has the best coffee.” and it’s casual, but you can see how he’s sharing a bit of himself with you, almost like letting you in on these little secrets.

he’s the same guy who’ll quietly, without a word, take off his jacket and drape it over your shoulders when the night air gets too cold, muttering something like, “can’t have you freezing out here,” while you just laugh because he’s the one walking around in a t-shirt in the middle of the night now.

staff!seungcheol who watched you perform on the backstage through the reflector and in the second he sees you stumble, heart pounding harder than it should as his instincts kick in before he even thinks—he’s moving, pushing past a cluster of crew members and ignoring the calls of the other staff, all his attention zeroed in on you. the moment he reaches you, he’s crouching down, there’s this tremor in his voice as he says, “hey, stay still, don’t try to move,” reaching to gently check your injury while his jaw is set tight, his hand firm yet shaking ever so slightly.

he’s not even sure if it’s because he’s furious at the award organization for being careless or just terrified that he saw you go down at all. there’s this split second where he holds you, practically hovering over you protectively, and when you hiss in pain, his hand moves gently, brushing hair out of your face. “i’m so sorry, it’s gonna be okay,” he mutters, his voice way softer than he means, almost sounding choked.

and that’s when it really hits him—this worry clawing its way up his chest, tearing through the professional armor he’s kept on so tightly. all the stuff he’s tried to ignore, to brush off as “just his job,” it’s all boiling over now, searing him. because the sight of you hurt, struggling to get back on your feet, it’s affecting him way, way more than it should. he’s clenching his jaw so hard he thinks it might break, like he’s trying to hold back this tight feeling in his throat, but it’s too late. all he can think is this can’t happen again, this can’t happen to you.

“look at me, alright?” he says, his voice steadier now but barely. he’s doing everything to stay calm, but his hand is still on your shoulder, squeezing just a bit tighter than usual. “i’ve got you. we’re gonna get you checked out, and you’re gonna be okay.” it’s like he’s trying to convince himself as much as he is you. when you try to shrug him off, muttering that you’re fine, he doesn’t even flinch—just picks you up like he’s done it a thousand times before, ignoring any protests, keeping you close to his chest as if letting you go is an option he just can’t entertain.

walking off stage, you’re half-leaning against him, but he can’t look at you without this flood of guilt hitting him. why wasn’t i there faster? he keeps thinking, like he could’ve somehow prevented this whole thing if he’d just been a second sooner, a second more vigilant. he knows it’s irrational, but the thought eats at him. with every step, the weight of what he’s feeling presses harder and harder, making him realize, damn, this isn’t just the job anymore, hasn’t been for a long time.

and now, backstage, with you in his arms, his mind’s racing through a million scenarios of what could’ve happened if the injury had been worse, if he hadn’t been there. it’s almost infuriating, how much he cares, and for a split second, he feels like he can’t breathe, like every single barrier he’s tried to put up to keep things professional has just crumbled into dust.

when the medical team comes over, he still can’t bring himself to fully let you go. he steps back just a bit, giving them space, but his hand’s still resting on your shoulder, thumb unconsciously tracing soft, slow circles like he’s grounding himself in knowing you’re still right there. he catches your eye, the way you give him that reassuring smile despite the pain, and he feels this indescribable surge of… something he’s afraid to name, afraid to admit even to himself.

you’re talking to the medics, brushing it off, laughing even, and he’s half-listening, locked in his own head. he’s known all along he’s cared about you, sure, but seeing you hurt, actually holding you like this, it’s made him realize it’s different now. this is something deeper, something he can’t hide behind a professional mask or dismiss as just his responsibility. you’re not just his artist-boss not just the person he’s assigned to take care of. you’re everything—everything he wants to protect, to keep safe, to make sure stays as perfect and unbreakable as he sees you.

staff!seungcheol, who practically moves in with you after the injury, showing up almost daily with bags of groceries, adjusting the pillows on the couch just right, and doing anything he can to make your life easier while you’re stuck on this forced hiatus. he’s meticulous as always, organizing everything, but he still lets you do the simple things on your own when possible. he knows how much you hate feeling dependent on anyone, even him, so he keeps it balanced. still, every now and then, he steps in—like now, as you awkwardly try to pull on your pajamas with your one good arm, refusing to ask for help but struggling all the same.

“you’re gonna tear the sleeve,” he murmurs, chuckling softly as he crosses the room, gentle hands helping guide your arm through the pajama top like it’s nothing. “and before you say anything, you don’t need to feel embarrassed, alright?”

“yeah, easy for you to say,” you grumble, feeling your cheeks heat up as he adjusts the fabric against your shoulder, the familiarity somehow making it worse. he’s done this a million times on tour, yet here, in the privacy of your own home, with your messy pajamas instead of a flashy stage outfit, it feels… like a shame. hard to ignore.

he just shrugs, glancing at you with a small, reassuring smile. “you’ve got nothing to prove to me. trust me, i’ve seen you through worse—like that one time in paris when you twisted your ankle and tried to walk it off anyway?”

“ugh, don’t remind me.” you roll your eyes, but the memory actually makes you laugh a little. “that was your fault for letting me go out in those ridiculous heels.”

“you’re the one who insisted they looked good,” he teases, smoothing down the collar of your pajama top as if that final adjustment could make this whole thing feel less awkward.

it’s only a few minutes later, as you’re both sitting at the dining table, the food he’s prepped steaming and smelling way too good, that he seems to pick up on the shift in your mood. you’re quiet, picking at your food, trying to ignore the ache in your back and the faint, familiar discomfort building up, reminding you it’s that time of the month—again.

“you feelin’ alright?” he asks, studying you with that same, observant gaze. he reaches over, pressing a hand to your forehead to check for a fever, but you instinctively pull back.

“i’m fine,” you reply a little too quickly, shrugging him off as you try to mask the irritation in your voice. but you know he’s already suspicious. he’s been keeping track of your recovery, and since your doctor had him install that app to sync with your cycle and show schedule, he’s way too aware of these things.

you glance at the notification before he turns the screen down. you groan, “god, i hate that you’re this observant.”

he chuckles softly, “comes with the job..”

“yeah, well… it’s just—look, it’s… i’m on my second ovulation since this stupid injury,” you admit, cheeks heating up as you glance away. “and i can’t… y’know. can’t do anything about it. feels like i’m losing my mind.”

he’s silent for a moment, probably a bit stunned, and you peek up, expecting him to laugh or maybe even crack some joke, but his face is serious. finally, he clears his throat, and his voice is so quiet you barely catch it.

“y/n, you—you could’ve told me. if this is, like, getting to you, there are… other ways.”

your heart races, both from his words and from the way he’s looking at you, and you try to shrug it off with a half-laugh, but your voice wavers. “yeah, and what? you planning on giving me a hand?”

he doesn’t laugh. “if that’s what you need.”

“cheol… whatthefuck?”

“don’t want you suffering alone. if you need me, just say it,” he murmurs.

and in that moment, with him sitting across from you, earnest and willing, you realize maybe you’ve been holding back more than just your pain.

staff!seungcheol watches you carefully, still as a statue except for his hands, which are gripping the underside of the table so hard you swear you can see his knuckles turning colorless. he’s waiting, practically holding his breath, watching every small shift in your expression, and you know he’s waiting for any sign you’re second-guessing. but all you can think about is how much you want him. your eyes slip shut, and you let out a shaky breath, the idea of him, his hands, his mouth on you making you dizzy. when you open your eyes, you meet his, still fixed on you.

you don’t even realize you’ve let out a soft moan until his lips twitch into a faint smile, and he pushes back from the table, coming around it with measured steps. “you sure about this?” he asks, he’s close enough now that you can see every detail of his face—the stray strands of his hair falling across his forehead, the slight flush on his cheeks, the sharp cut of his jawline.

“cheol, please?” you murmur, because god, you need him to close this space, need him to touch you.

he doesn’t need to be told twice. he scoops you up, carefully laying you back on the bed, his hands sliding up your thighs, thumbs rubbing slow circles as he moves higher, taking his time. he’s studying every reaction, every small sigh or shift, until he reaches the waistband of your shorts. he glances up one more time, giving you a moment to stop him, but when you nod, his fingers hook under the fabric, peeling it down slowly.

“fuck, you’re drenched,” he murmurs, as his fingers dip between your thighs, gathering the wetness that’s practically dripping, and spreading on your clit. he raises an eyebrow, glancing at you with a smirk. “been waiting for this?”

you squirm under his touch, cheeks flushing as he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh, his stubble grazing your skin as he trails his mouth higher, breath warm as he hovers above the wet cunt, your pussy clenches, making a wet sound, his eyes flicking up to meet yours again.

“stay still for me,” he whispers, before his mouth finally, finally connects, and the first touch has you gasping, fingers fisting the sheets. his tongue is slow, and you can feel his tongue sucking your juices inside his mouth. mortifying, delicious. you can’t help but arch your hips toward him, wanting more, but his hands press down on your thighs, holding you in place.

he pulls back just enough to murmur, “turned on?” and his fingers slide in, curling faultlessly as he starts moving, his mouth resuming its work on your swollen clit in a way that makes you disoriented. he doesn’t let up, alternating between teasing you and giving you exactly what you need, fingers curling tight, making the wet sounds louder, pressing against that spot that has you writhing.

“god, look at you,” he whispers, voice rough in your ear as he presses his fingers deeper, his breath hot on your skin. “you’re soaked, y/n. dripping all over my fingers… you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

your hips move instinctively, grinding down on his hand, but the way you’re shifting causes a sharp pain to shoot through your arm, making you gasp.

“hold on, wait,” he says immediately, pulling his fingers out, his other hand already moving to your side, gently easing you back down. his eyes scan you for any sign of discomfort, and then he places his hand firmly on your chest, palm pressing between your breasts as he pins you to the bed, keeping you steady. “just like this, okay?” he murmurs, fingers slipping back inside you, his thumb circling your clit. “you can still move down here, but let me do all the work.”

your breath catches as he holds you down, the feeling of his strong hand keeping you in place making you stumble breaths. you’re completely at his mercy, pinned under his hand, unable to do anything but grind against his fingers, and with every thrust, every word he murmurs, you’re spiraling further, faster.

“you’re so perfect like this,” he whispers against your skin, moving his fingers deeper, rougher. “such a mess, taking me so good… you’re gonna cumm for me? yeah? that’s it, just like that…”

your orgasm hits hard, your body clenching around his fingers, thighs trembling, and his hand on your chest keeps you from arching too much, grounding you as your entire body pulses he holds you steady, whispering soft, filthy praises into your ear as you come down, his fingers finally slipping out but his hand staying over your heart, steady and reassuring as your breathing slows.

you look up at him, the aftershocks still tingling, and he gives you a soft, satisfied smile, brushing his thumb gently over your collarbone. “now that’s my good girl.”

seungcheol hovers over you, his face an inch from yours, eyes locked on you like you’re the only thing in the room worth seeing. your breaths are shallow, still struggling to steady, and without another thought, you lift your neck and press your lips to his. he melts into it, kissing you deeper, tongue brushing over yours in a way that makes your skin tingle. he’s careful with his hands, keeping his wet fingers from your hair but awkwardly gripping the pillow, while the other hand slides down, lightly brushing over your chest.

“fuck… cheol,” you mumble into his mouth, feeling almost embarrassed by the way your body’s reacting. the word just slips out, and then it’s followed by, “want your cock so bad. just… just give it to me, please.”

he pulls back, and you’ve never seen that look before—his lips parted, brows raised, the most i-want-pussy-so-fucking-bad face you ever saw. he shakes his head softly, voice a little raspy, “you know i’d ruin you if i could right now,” he says, breath catching. “but it’ll hurt… don’t wanna push it too much.”

“please, cheollie,” you murmur, giving him a sly, knowing look. “you’re gonna be careful with me, right? just… give me a little. i need you so bad, been thinking about it all day…” your voice trails off, and you feel his hand grip a little tighter, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your chest through the thin fabric of your pajamas.

he takes a shaky breath, a low groan slipping out, and suddenly, he’s sliding off the bed, hands trembling just enough for you to notice as he pulls his shirt over his head. his skin is warm, tan, muscles rippling as he unbuttons his jeans, and you can barely breathe as he pushes them down along with his underwear, freeing himself. his cock is thick, flushed a deep pink at the tip, and the way he’s stroking himself, like he’s savoring every second, has you practically drooling.

unable to resist, you tilt your head up, parting your lips, tongue out as you bat your lashes at him, silently begging. he’s already at the edge of the bed, and he lowers himself, the weight of his cock pressing against your lips, and you can’t help the moan that escapes. it’s warm, heavy, and you lean forward just enough, taking him between your lips, letting your tongue glide along the underside.

he strokes a hand over your cheek, thumb grazing just beneath your eye, and his face looks wrecked, like he’s fighting every instinct to just take control. but he holds back, lets you set the pace, lets you tease with your mouth, your tongue swirling over his tip, tasting every inch of him.

you take his whole length in your mouth, sucking him slow, then pulling back to focus on the tip like you’re savoring the best thing you’ve ever tasted. you hear his breath catch, and when his knees falter, his hand grips your shoulder, the sound of his hissed “stop… stop,” barely reaching you over the rush of your own heartbeat. you pull back, licking your lips, watching his eyes go dark as he catches sight of his precum shining on your mouth.

he climbs back onto the bed, sliding between your legs, and you shiver as his rough hands smooth over your thighs, steadying himself, each touch leaving a trail of heat on your skin. his tip brushes your clit, slick and throbbing, and his head falls back, eyes squeezed shut like he’s holding himself back, muttering to himself as if he’s praying to keep control, like he knows he’s on the edge of just losing it. “what a fucking idea, seungcheol.” you can practically hear him thinking, fighting to keep the restraint that’s barely holding on by a thread.

but you want him to break just a little—so you reach down, your smaller hand wrapping around him, tugging him gently, aiming him just right. his eyes snap open, catching you in the act, and he’s on you in a second, his large hand covering yours, guiding himself to press against you, so close but not quite there yet. his forearm braces beside your head as his face hovers above you, dark hair brushing your forehead, and you feel the heat of his chest pressed to yours, your nipples tight against him.

a giggle escapes frpm you, bubbling up from the tension, aroused and just a little wicked, and his gaze sharpens. he bites his bottom lip, a smirk playing on his face, and asks, “think it’s funny to watch me suffer, huh?”

“me?” you bat your eyelashes at him, feigning innocence. “wouldn’t dream of it… i’m just thinkin’ how it’s almost cute how fucked you are already. big, strong seungcheol, lookin’ like he’s about to cry before he’s even all the way in…”

he laughs, pushing just an inch further inside, making you moan, eyebrows scrunching as the heat between you builds. “gonna make you take back every word, babe,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of threat and promise, breath warm against your cheek.

you can’t help yourself, smirking up at him. “well, you better prove it then, baby. or i’m gonna have to tell everyone you barely held up through a single round.”

“oh, you think that’s how this is gonna go?”

and with that, he presses forward, sinking in deeper, your mouth dropping open as he fills you slowly, letting you feel every inch of him.

your walls tighten around him, barely able to take him in, but your body’s greedy, slick and warm, desperate to pull him in even further. your calves wrap around his ass, urging him, and in one move, you tug him, forcing him deeper, filling you completely. you cry out, head rolling back, but seungcheol groans, nearly collapsing onto you, his hand catching himself before he lands too hard.

“what the hell are you doin’,” he pants, shaking his head, his voice all gruff as he looks down at you. “you’re crazy, you know that? what if i’d fallen on your arm?”

you smirk, unashamed, reaching up to tug him down closer. “couldn’t help it… i needed all of you,” you murmur, voice dripping with need, your walls pulsing around him. “need you so deep you’ll still be there tomorrow.”

he laughs, but it melts into a growl as he starts to move. “you know i can’t take it too fast with you today.” he murmurs, pressing a lazy kiss to your forehead. “but damn, you’re tight.”

your hips tilt up, meeting him, matching the slow grind, and you look up at him, gaze heavy-lidded. “bet you’ve been thinking about this,” you purr, your fingers trailing down his chest. “probably losing it in that dressing room, thinking how wet i’d get for you.”

“fuck, don’t start with me,” he grits out, his hips faltering for just a second as you clench around him, and you can feel him twitch inside, pulsing as your words hit home. his hand finds its way to your neck, not squeezing but just holding, grounding himself as he slowly fills you over and over. “goddamn, y/n..”

“oh, i know,” you say, breath catching as he leans down, lips brushing yours, barely ghosting as his hips keep that steady, perfect rhythm. “i know exactly how you look at me, seungcheol. like you wanna destroy me.”

his breath hitches, and his hand flexes on your neck as he groans, forehead pressing against yours. “careful what you ask for.” he warns, voice low, but you pout up at him, lips pressing into the slightest pout, all needy.

“i don’t think you’re really up for it, anyway. maybe i need someone who can give it to me for real,” you murmur, words practically melting into his ear, and he stops mid-thrust, his eyes flashing as he studies your face.

“you’re pushin’ it,” he says, voice rough as he resumes moving, but you keep the playful look, barely biting back a smile as he grits his teeth. “if you didn’t have that arm to worry about, i’d have you crying right now, you know that?”

“oh, i know,” you coo back, dragging your nails down his back, just enough to make him hiss. “but what about now? all you can do is hold back ‘cause you’re too scared of hurting me. maybe it’s you who can’t handle it, huh?”

the muscles in his jaw tighten as he leans in close, hips still rolling into you with a slow, maddening rhythm that makes you squirm beneath him. “trust me, i could handle you just fine,” he murmurs against your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “but you’re so damn tight right now, i’d probably split you open if i went harder.”

“maybe i want that,” you whisper, your voice breathless as you shift your hips, taking him even deeper, feeling every inch stretch you with each slow grind of his hips. “maybe i want you to fuck me so good i forget my own damn name.”

seungcheol’s resolve nearly snaps. he groans, his hands gripping your waist to steady you, his thumb brushing along your ribs, and he lets out a shuddering breath, muttering under his breath. “god, ovulations are somethin’ else,” he says, voice cracking, clearly fighting for control. “you’re wet wet—like i might drown in you, damn.”

he lets out a low chuckle, his eyes clouded, almost in awe. “look at this mess,” he murmurs, pulling out just slightly to feel how soaked his length is before sliding back in, feeling your warmth close around him, every muscle clenching down on him, pulling him deeper, your eyes rolling back. “you really think you can handle it if i just… give you what you’re beggin’ for?”

you arch up against him, that challenging spark back in your eyes. “why don’t you just try me?”

he lets out a slow exhale, hand moving from your waist to cradle your face as he picks up the pace, still careful but with a bit more force this time, making you gasp. you whimper, nodding at him to continue, the tension building with each deep stroke, and you can see the satisfaction flash in his eyes as he keeps his rhythm steady, watching the way you start to fall apart beneath him.

he pulls out slowly, just enough to let you feel every ridge, every vein along his length, before pushing back in until his tip is pressed snug against your cervix, making you gasp. the pressure alone makes your head spin, and you can feel his balls, soaked and heavy, pressing against you with each movement, sticky with how drenched you are.

“you still think i’m not giving it to you right?” he taunts, his voice dipping low as he watches your face, one brow lifting just slightly, teasing. “you wanted it rough, didn’t you?” he grins, dragging a hand up your thigh, holding you open for him. “tell me, where’s that attitude now?”

“it’s—it’s…” you trail off, breath hitching as he thrusts again, slower, letting his hips roll so he’s as deep as possible, and you can’t help the shaky whimper that slips out.

“what was that? i couldn’t quite hear you,” he murmurs, voice smug as he leans down, kissing your jaw, your neck, every inch of you that he can reach while still keeping that maddeningly slow pace. “you were talkin’ so big before, and now look at you.”

“i… i can take it,” you stammer, clutching at his shoulders, though the words barely come out with how your voice keeps faltering, his rhythm somehow leaving you more breathless with each thrust.

he chuckles, brushing his thumb across your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. “that so? ‘cause you’re already all teary,” he points out, a hint of affection in his tone, even as he keeps that teasing look in his eyes. “am i really that deep, baby?”

“y-yeah,” you manage to whisper, but your voice wavers, and he grins wider.

“tell me what you need, then,” he says, his hips moving just a fraction faster, the sound of skin meeting skin growing louder, wetter, echoing through the room. “tell me what you want so bad.”

“need… need you to make me cum,” you whimper, the words tumbling out, barely audible. “need to feel you.”

he huffs a little. “you’re falling apart just from this? and here i thought i had to really work for it.”

“i—i can take more,” you manage to gasp out, your body responding to his every movement. “just… just give it to me, seungcheol.”

he shakes his head, smirking as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your neck. “you really think you can handle it? with that arm and everything?”

“you know i can!” you protest, trying to keep your voice steady, but your hips betray you, rolling against him. “i’m not fragile, you know? just—just don’t stop.”

“is this what you’ve been craving? sum' good cock to make you cum?”

“yes, yes, god—yes!” you whine, the heat pooling in your belly, threatening to spill over at any moment. the sounds of skin slapping together mix with the sweet squelch of your wetness, making it even more intense.

“fuck—my balls are practically soaked from you. you like how that feels, huh? my cock in your sweet little cunt, makin’ a mess of you?”

“you’re so deep, it feels too good—”

“you okay? i’m not hurting you, am i?”

“no, it’s… it’s perfect,” you manage to breathe out.

“what do you think? you think you can handle more?” he asks, almost a growl as he quickens his pace just a bit, sending your mind spinning even further. “or are you just gonna cry for me?”

“shut up!” you whimper, tears finally spilling over as he hits that spot inside you.

“too good, huh?” he teases, biting his lip to stifle a groan as he watches your face contort with pleasure. “do you think i could make you cum like this?”

“yes! yes, just like this!” you gasp, the words tumbling out of you as you feel the familiar tension building in your core. “oh god, seungcheol—”

“what do you want to say?” he presses, leaning closer. “i want to hear you, babe. tell me.”

his thrusts become more insistent, and your body instinctively responds, clenching tightly around him as the waves of pleasure crash over you.

“that’s it, baby,” he encourages. “let it go. i want to feel you cum around me.”

“seungcheol, i—” your voice catches in your throat, your body convulsing as the pleasure overwhelms you completely, every thought dissolving into pure ecstasy. the world around you blurs as you finally let go, and all you can manage is a soft whimper as you surrender to it.

his eyes widen, watching you, makes your heart race even more, and as you tremble beneath him, you feel him pulse inside you, the sensation of his cock sending you spiraling deeper into that sweet oblivion. “my girl..” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe as he rides you through it, feeling your walls contract around him. “so fucking beautiful.”

staff!seungcheol who’s always attentive, watching you as you recover from your last high. he knows how much you need him, but he’s also so damn careful, ever the dedicated staff member. even as you beg him to keep going, to let him cum deep inside you, he hesitates.

he slips out of you, but you’re not ready to let him go. raising your hand, you grab him by the cock, your fingers wrapping around him with a tightness that makes him gasp. “what the hell? oh fuck!” he exclaims, almost stumbling forward as he’s pulled back toward you. his voice shifts from reprimanding to moaning, the scold dying on his lips as he feels your hand start to stroke him.

“i just want to make you feel good, too,” you whisper, your breath hitching as you give him a few slow, teasing pumps, enjoying the way his hips instinctively thrust forward, chasing the pleasure you’re giving him.

“you’re gonna get yourself hurt,” he warns shaky, his hands gripping your wrist, but there’s no real force behind it. he’s clearly enjoying it, his breaths coming faster as you continue to stroke him, your fingers gliding effortlessly over his length. “you shouldn’t—”

“shh,” you hush him playfully, biting your lip as you watch his expression morph into one of pure desire. “just let me do this for you. i want you to feel good.”

“god, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that,” he groans, his voice trembling, but the way you’re working your hand up and down, your palm brushing the sensitive tip, it’s too much.

“then cum for me,” you whisper, a seductive promise in your tone. “i’ll take care of you, just like you take care of me. let go.”

staff!seungcheol, who can’t resist the way you look at him, all teasing yet so earnest, the way you squeeze him with just the right amount of pressure, your hand slick with your cum and sure as you stroke him.

staff!seungcheol, who gives in because he can’t help it, because every part of him is craving you, has been for so long. his hips jerk, thrusting up into your hand with a roughness he usually holds back. his eyes are dark, fixed on your hand working him, and he bites his lip, trying to keep himself steady, but it’s no use—you’re so close, whispering his name, brushing your lips over his with every stroke, and he’s already too far gone.

“i can’t hold back when you look at me like that.”

you laugh deliciously, the sound bubbling up from your chest as you lean in, licking his lips.

staff!seungcheol, who can’t hold back any longer, feels the heat rising in his cheeks as he realizes he’s about to spill over. his breath hitches, and just like that, he’s cumming—hard. it’s a mix of deep, throaty moans and soft whimpers escaping his lips, echoing in the quiet room. your belly and fingers are coated with him, and you can’t help but grin at the sight.

“yes, just like that! keep going, let it out, look at you, all moaning like a little slut. how does it feel?”

“shut up,” he mumbles, half-heartedly trying to glare at you, but his eyes are glassy, the words only making him blush deeper.

you smirk, lifting your hand to your mouth, where his cum glistens on your fingers. you start to lick it off, each slow drag of your tongue making his breath hitch in his throat.

staff!seungcheol who’s mortified, wide-eyed as he grabs your wrist, halting your movements and making your tongue stay out, eagerly waiting. “no, no, don’t do that!”

you pout at him, eyes big and pleading, your voice coming out in the sweetest “please?” he hesitates, visibly torn, but eventually lets go of your wrist, swallowing hard as you close your eyes and bring your fingers back to your lips. the way you lick it all up slowly, savoring each taste with a big-ass smile, drives him crazy. it’s like you’re teasing him all at once, every nerve in his body alive with the sight of you, so effortlessly and unapologetically indulging yourself.

staff!seungcheol who’s at a complete loss, his eyes wide as he watches, helplessly captivated by the way you move, the small smile on your face showing just how aware you are of his reaction. he shifts, clearly trying to gather himself, but you notice his fingers flexing at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to pull you close again.

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moonsgemini · 3 months ago

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cherry wine - firefighter!rafe

* ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ₊˚ ⋅

summary: who knew career day would involve a hot sexy mustached firefighter wanting to take you on a date.

warnings: teacher!reader x firefighter!rafe, mutual pining, fluff, a little self doubt, lots of flirting, sexual innuendos, talk of sex but no smut

an: that pic is how I picture firefighter!rafe, I don’t think I need to elaborate any more. title will make more sense in the second part, hope you all enjoy!! & yes this will be a part 2 of the date hehehe. I did not proof read this so my bad

masterlist - part two

* ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ₊˚ ⋅

This day could not end sooner. I had been the most chaotic day trying to consistently wrangle a bunch of nine year olds. It was the third grade’s career day at the school you taught at.

The day has been filled with moving from station to station and learning about new careers. Some were a little more interesting than others. It was hard to get the kids to leave the lizard wrangler but they didn’t care much for the optometrist.

Some of the lovely volunteers were kind enough to provide treats for the kids which only made their energy sky rocket. It was your first year teaching and even though you felt confident in your abilities to handle the kids you still tripped up a bit. A kid scraped his knee running from the hair stylist to the park ranger. You were a bit busy untangling a brush out another students hair to tell him not to run. It had been a lot.

Now it was nearing closer to the bell ringing and your weekend starting. You were definitely going to need a drink after today. Career day led up to the fire department coming and showing the kids every tool, button, and switch on their trucks. It would give you and your fellow teachers some time to relax as they all sat around the parking lot waiting for them to arrive.

“You survive today?” Martha asked as she stood next to you. The two of you started at this school together, both being first time teachers. That alone strengthened the immediate bond you had with the curly haired woman.

You let out a tired laugh, “Barely, you?”

She nodded, “Barely.”

You looked around briefly to make sure students weren’t listening to you two, “Winnie’s tonight?”

She grinned happily, “Thought you’d never ask. I could use a drink or ten.”

“Agreed.” You nodded.

That’s when you all spotted the two trucks approaching. The kids started to cheer and scream as they honked.

Martha leaned in to murmur, “At least we get to end the day with hot men with mustaches.”

That’s when it hit you. You hadn’t even thought about that all day. Now your hair was a mess and your light makeup all practically gone.

“I didn’t even think about that. I look like a mess,” You muttered.

“Oh please you look good. Even after wrangling twenty five children all day.”

You nudged her with a grin. The trucks parked in front of the students and the firefighters began filing out. The principal stood in front introducing them and what they were going to do.

Martha was right. Hot fireman indeed. There were six guys and they all began introducing themselves. You tried your hardest to pay attention to each one and watch your kids, but it was hard when one particular firefighter stood out.

He looked younger than the rest with his bleached hair and untrimmed mustache. His biceps bulged in his navy tee shirt as he crossed his arms over his chest. He looked so big and broad you wanted to melt. His eyes scanned the crowd as the guy next to him began introducing himself. That’s when his eyes passed you and did a double take. At least that’s what you hoped that was. He made eye contact with you and a small smirk began forming on his lips. Not looking away as your face began to heat up from his stare.

You looked away briefly as your nerves bubbled. When you looked back he was still looking at you and that smirk had gotten wider. Even when it was his turn to introduce himself he didn’t look away.

“Hi everyone I’m Rafe, I’ve been a firefighter for three years now. I also help train the new fire dogs to be able to help us out when we need them,” He finished giving the crowd a big smile. He finally looked away from you as he rubbed his mustache.

The presentation was supposed to be and hour but it somehow felt like five minutes. Probably because you couldn’t look away from someone in particular. He was just so handsome. The way his back muscles tightened and arms bulged as he picked things up had you feeling butterflies in places you didn’t know were possible.

This was not like you to get so dumbstruck by a man. You should know better that attractive fireman should not be trusted. But damn was he good to look at.

Rafe was grateful that he had decided to sign up to volunteer for career day at the schools. He liked seeing how excited kids got at their job so he was doing it solely for that. He didn’t expect to lay eyes on the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. At first he thought the teachers were all going to be his mom’s age older, but nope. He had been very wrong.

As him and the guys went through their presentation he couldn’t help but glance over at her any chance he got.

Even the mom’s who arrived early to get a glimpse of them weren’t enough to distract him. Even after first setting his eyes on her he knew he was going to do everything in his power to talk to her.

The firefighters stayed until all the kids had been picked up so they didn’t get stuck in the after school traffic. Rafe was thankful they didn’t get a call either or else he would have missed his chance. He looked over to where you were waving goodbye to your last student of the day and saw his open window.

He pat Javier on the back leaving him to wind up the hose himself, “Be right back.”

He stood up with a furrowed brow, “Of course Cameron.” He muttered as he said the blonde stride over to the pretty teacher.

You were texting Martha as you began walking to your class to see if she was already at Winnies. She had gotten out earlier as all her students were picked up already. You didn’t notice the broad man that approached you.

“Hi, can I walk you back to your class?” You looked up slightly startled.

Were you hallucinating because of the heat? Why was this big tall handsome stranger talking to you? You looked around to see if he was talking to someone else.

“Me?” You pointed at yourself with a questioning look.

His smirk widened, “Yeah, it’s really dangerous out here to be walking alone.” He teased.

You laughed, “Right um yeah sure.”

“Lead the way,” He said as he put his hands in his pockets.

“Your guys presentation was really good, the kids loved it. I already know they’re not going to shut up about it next week,” You laughed brushing hair behind your ear. You felt like a teenager again with a crush.

He smiled, “Thanks. Hopefully inspired some future firefighters. I’ve been doing it for a couple years now, is this your first year teaching?”

You were surprised he even thought about that, “Yeah actually it is.”

“I knew I’d remember that face if I’d seen you before,” Rafe wasn’t one to hold back with his flirting. When he knew what he wanted he would do anything in his power to get it. His career choice definitely helps him out a bit.

You coughed a surprised laugh, “Oh I- uh this is me,” you stuttered out as you got to your classroom. You weren’t used to men being so forward. They usually danced around compliments like they wanted you to work for it before earning one.

He opened the door for you, “I’m Rafe by the way,” He held his big hand out for you to shake. He took your much smaller hand in his as you told him your name. The heat of having his attention never leaving your cheeks.

“Are you doing anything tonight? I’d love to see you outside of work,” He leaned against the door casually. As he folded his arms over his chest they looked even bigger. You’re surprised there’s no drool dripping down your chin.

“No uh well yes I am, I’m meeting my friend Martha. She was standing next to me during the assembly. We’re going to Winnie’s if you’d like to join. Or not it’s fine if you don’t and you changed your mind or something,” You cleared your throat as you finished rambling.

That smirk turning into a wide grin, “I’ll see you there. Maybe I’ll bring one of the guys with me.”

She nodded with a smile, “That’d be great, I’m sure Martha would appreciate that.”

“I’ll see you then,” He winked subtly and walked back out. That smug grin still on his face.

“You are the bestest friend I’ve ever had!” Martha exclaimed as you finished telling her about your conversation with the hot firefighter.

You laughed, “I didn’t even do anything, god he’s so hot I hope I don’t embarrass myself.” You looked back at the entrance to the bar to see if he was here yet.

“You won’t. He probably loves the whole cute young elementary teacher thing,” Marth said as she took a sip of her cocktail.

“I don’t wanna be that though. I want to be a hot sexy woman,” You sighed dramatically.

When you got to winnies you spent about 10 minutes in your car fixing your smudged makeup and messy hair. You really wished career day didn’t put you through the ringer. You even changed into a random top that was in the backseat because the tee shirt you were wearing wasn’t doing you justice.

It had been almost an hour and they still hadn’t shown up. You had begun to feel disappointed that maybe he was just all talk. Maybe he did that to every new teacher at the schools he went to. But to save yourself the self pity you thought maybe he got a call and had to work. That was the most reasonable explanation. At least that’s what you told yourself.

“They probably got busy. Saving lives or something,” Martha waved off as she finished her second drink. You were also currently on your second and your feet were feeling fuzzy so you were cutting yourself off. You’d probably end up going home after the buzz wore off.

You tried not to show how disappointment flowed through you, “Yeah probably. Guess it was too go-“ you cut yourself off as you saw the door open and a head of bleach blonde hair came through. Your eyes widened and look away quickly.

“Ohmygod he’s here,” you mumbled to Martha. He hasn’t seen you yet.

She smiled, “Is the friend hot?”

You looked over and that’s when you met his eye. Rafe was already looking at you. He smirked and began walking over with a guy to a similar build as him walked behind him.

“Yes and they’re coming,” You said quickly as you cleared your throat.

“Hello ladies,” Rafe smirked as he approached.

You smiled softly, “Hey,”

Rafe thought you were pretty before but now in this setting you looked unreal. He was so glad he signed up for career day.

“This is Josh,” He nodded towards the brunette next to him.

You smiled politely at him, “Hi Josh. I’m y/n and this is Martha,” You looked over at her, “Martha, Rafe.”

They greeted each other as the guys sat down. Having Rafe so close to you was making you a bit dizzy. The alcohol wasn’t helping that either.

“What are you drinking?” Rafe asked you nodding towards your drink.

“Oh I was having gin and pineapple juice but I think I’m done for the night,” You admitted sheepishly.

He smiled teasingly, “Well wish I could have made it earlier to actually have that drink with you.”

You thought about it for a minute, “I guess I could have one more with you. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“You sure about that? You’re okay with just straight tequila shots?”

Your eyes widened muttering, “Geez maybe you will be drinking alone.”

He laughed, “In that case I guess we’ll just have a beer?” He said more as a question wanting to make sure that was okay with you.

You pretended to think for a minute humming, “Hmmm fine with me. Except no IPA’s,” you said making a face

“Yes ma’am,” He nodded getting up from the high table.

Across from you Josh was getting Martha’s drink order and you could already tell he liked her. The way he leaned in as if he couldn’t hear her despite the bar not being loud yet. You looked over at the bar where Rafe stood waiting for a bartender. He looked so good leaning over the bar. The muscles of his back flexing under the navy shirt. You couldn’t be more grateful for career day.

Rafe was oh so screwed. He was liking this third grade teacher a little too much. He had never felt so attracted to someone. Not just physically. He loved how animated you were when you talked, always using your hands. The passion in your eyes when you spoke about your class was admirable.

It was a done deal that you weren’t going to just be a hook up. No way would Rafe think about letting you out of his grasp. You were so soft and sweet, he can already imagine just how sweet you taste.

He knew it wasn’t one sided either. He saw the way you watched him as he told childhood stories and how he became a firefighter. You didn’t look at him like some hero the way most women did but you looked at him like you were proud of him. It made this weird feeling in his chest bloom. But he loved that look in your eye.

Whatever dance you two had been playing the last hour was starting to wear him thin. He wanted to touch you. Not even in a sexual way but he wanted to tuck that piece of hair behind your ear or give your thigh a reassuring squeeze every time you thought you were rambling. Rafe wanted to hear you go on and on about everything.

Throughout the night your chairs had slowly started to scoot closer to each other. Then your arms started brushing each other. Even the small contact set his skin on fire. The need in his bones growing.

You would dare to move a muscle once your skin touched he was so warm and as you looked over his bicep was just beghing to be bitten. The alcohol was helping your brain wander to that place you only visited at night alone in your bed.

As was telling a story about his vacation in Italy your eyes couldn’t help but wander back over to those biceps that had you drooling when you first saw him. He had his arms crossed over the table. Muscles flexing as he picked up his beer bottle and took a sip. The way his neck moved as he swallowed had you clenching your thighs. You wondered what his skin would taste like. You also wanted to know what it’d feel like to be wrapped in those biceps as he held you up while pou-

“You good?” Rafe asked lowering his head to your gaze. A teasing smirk on his lips.

Your doe eyes looked up at him, “Uh huh.” Way to play it cool.

He chuckled, “What were you thinking about?” You hadn’t noticed that Martha and Josh had gotten up and walked over to the dart board across the bar. Now leaving the two of you alone. The bar had gotten more crowded now and

You shook your head fighting the heat creeping up your spine, “Nothing really.”

“Yeah?” He leaned in closer, “I bet we were thinking about the same thing.”

You swallowed hard trying to use as much of that liquid courage as possible, “Then tell me what you’re thinking and I’ll let you know if you’re right.”

He liked that playful look in your eye, “Well I was thinking about soft your thighs would feel on my cheeks.”

Your eyes widened. Maybe you really weren’t expecting him to be honest. But that truth had you fidget in your seat as that warm feeling in your stomach blossomed.

“I guess we were then,” You hum.

“Mhmm,” He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “And what should we do about that sweetheart?”

“I-I” And just like that you had lost your cool. This insanely attractive, funny, smart guy wanted to get into your pants. Hot guys with all those personality traits come once in a blue moon and you were fumbling.

He laughed raising a hand to your shoulder brushing your hair back. His fingertips grazing your exposed collarbone. The light touch making goosebumps rise on your skin. You wanted to lean into his touch but before you could he pulled away, “Let me take you out. Just you and me.”

“Really?” You were a bit dumbfounded. It’s not like you thought he was going to be a bad guy but a part of you had prepared for a one time hook up kind of guy. Which you didn’t mind at first because well it had been almost a year since anyone has met your needs. You weren’t going to turn down sex with a hot firefighter so you’re definitely not turning down a date with one. But you couldn’t help but be curious as to why.

He nodded, “Of course. You’re beautiful, sweet, funny, smart, passionate. I really could go on but I’ll save that for our date.”

You huffed out an amused laugh, “Okay yeah I’d love to go on a date. Assuming this doesn’t count?”

He shook his head with a frown, “I’d never do this for a first date, especially not for someone like you. I’ll treat you right y/n don’t you worry.”

That heat was back again, “You say this to all the women you meet at on career day?”

He smirked, “Just the ones I can’t stop thinking about. Which has only happened with you.”

His reassurances ignited something in you. The feeling of being wanted was something you hadn’t felt in a while and you really liked it. You really liked who was making you feel wanted.

“So how would you treat me Rafe?”

God. He loved the sound of his name coming out of your mouth. He wanted to hear you say it in so many scenarios. Specifically ones where you’re naked.

His knee bumped hers under the table, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six and show you exactly what I’d do.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron obx #rafe x you

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seospicybin · 4 months ago

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THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART II

Bangchan x reader. (s)

Chapters: Part I / Part III / Final.

Synopsis: To help you moving on from your break-up, Chan takes you out for a night. However, he doesn't expect you will find a potential new love in someone else. (9,5k words)

Author's note: Here's one you've been asking for. Please tell me what you think about it! Nevertheless, enjoy x

"I think we're done for the day, huh?" You sigh in relief after dumping the dirty towels into the laundry bag and tossing it to the back room.

"No, actually, someone just walked in and wanted a haircut," your co-worker says while holding a stack of clean towels in front of her.

"Keem can have it," you resolve, you've finished all of your appointments for the day, and you're tired and ready to go home.

"Yeah, that's the problem. He specifically asked for you," your co-worker answers, putting the towels into the shelf full of them.

You plant your hands on each side of your waist and shoot a puzzled look at your coworker, "Huh?"

Is this customer aware that the salon is about to close and there's another hairstylist on duty? That exciting feeling of getting home soon is slowly fading as you head in to meet this customer who specifically asks for you.

The second you walk in, Keem, the other stylist, grabs your elbow and then leans into your side to whisper, "He's so cute."

Hearing it doesn't lift your mood at all, you just want to get it over with and go home.

"Where?" You ask as you put on your apron.

"He's right there," she whispers, pointing to the middle seat hidden behind the big mirror then detaches herself off you to go back behind the counter.

For a customer who chooses an awful time to get a haircut, you put on a phony smile and shove your hands into the pockets of your apron as you greet.

"Hi, what can I do for... You!" The infliction in your voice changes as you see who that customer is.

It's the shit-eating grin, the stupid dimples on his stupid face and

"It's enough torture to have you as my neighbor and now I have to you see at work too," you say as you cross your arms together in front of you.

"Oh, wow, is this how you treat your customer?" He says with a fake concerned look.

"Only the select few," you say with a sinister smile.

"I made it on your list of honors? Is this because we had sex—"

You hurriedly cover his mouth with your hand and make sure no one is seeing what you're doing to him, or worse, letting them acquire that piece of information.

"What do you want?" You scold him with a piercing glare.

He takes your hand off of his mouth and dramatically gasps for air, "I want a haircut," he simply answers.

With a huff, you swivel his chair to face the mirror and grab the cape for him, putting it around his neck, then clip it together. You put on a phony smile as you look at him through the reflection in the mirror.

"So, what do you want me to do with your hair besides setting it on fire?" You sarcastically ask him.

It's amazing how his grin doesn't wear off even just for a second, "We don't need to cut much, I guess just the tip," he says.

"Just the tip," you repeat, "Is that the title of your sex tape?"

Chan cracks a sonorous laugh, "That's a good one!"

Once you hear the sound of the scissors snipping away the hair, you get in the zone. You focus on giving his hair a nice shape that accentuates his strong jawline and makes his facial features more prominent.

"Don't talk much, huh?" He asks, slightly turning his head to the side.

You grab the nape of his neck and forcefully turn his head back to the front, "just here trying my best not to snip you somewhere else," you calmly mutter.

"Ooh, chills!" He responds with a shudder.

You switch your scissors with a hair clipper and it starts buzzing as you turn it on, you're holding it in his hand as you look at him and say, "You're going to regret coming here and allowing me to be this close to you with a sharp object."

Seeing you bringing the hair clipper close to his face, he reflexively closes his eyes so tightly and you hold the urge to not laugh at it.

"Oh, okay, I regret it now," he says like a frightened child left alone by his parents.

You gently place your hand on his jaw, "Stay still," you warn him.

He obeys you, keeping his head still and his eyes closed as you're carefully trimming his sideburns. You suddenly find yourself admiring his face and his beautiful features of a long, big nose and voluptuous lips.

For a split second, you so badly want to run your thumb on his lips and feel how soft they are. You did feel it once with your lips but you were too sad to notice and now you realize how much you regret it.

Before the temptation returns, you turn off the trimmer and put it away, then proceed to help brush the hair on his face and around his neck with a soft brush.

"You're all done," you announce, taking the cape from around his neck.

Chan stays on his seat as you brush the excess hair off the nape of his neck and make sure they don't stick to his skin. You put all of your equipment on the cart next to you and anticipate his reaction to your haircut.

Not trying to brag here but you did a good job here because he looks even more attractive with a fresh cut.

"Aren't you going to tell me how handsome I am and then kiss me on the cheek?" He asks while blinking his big eyes at you.

"I'm not your mom," you reply with a plain smile.

When you think you already got rid of him after giving him a haircut, you see him lounging around the counter and putting on his charms for Keem. You plan on keeping it a secret that you know each other but if he starts flirting with your co-worker, then there's a possibility you'll see her walking out of his apartment the next day and it only gets messy from there. You come up to him and tug at the sleeve of his jacket, then pull him to the side.

"Why are you still here?" You ask through your gritted teeth and keeping your volume low.

"I'm waiting for you."

"Why?"

"Because we're going out tonight," he answers.

"We?"

"And no, my panties are not in a twist," he says with a teeth-baring grin, "You can check it yourself if you want."

"Ugh. No!" You groan in refusal.

What is it about him anyway that makes the girls go crazy for him? If you're thinking with your depraved, brutal, and cavewoman brain, it must be the body that is inexplicably electric and sexually charged, braced with heavy muscles, and injected with a high dose of testosterone. In other words, he's hot, and it's hard not to be biologically attracted to him. But if you're thinking progressively and in the 21st century way, you know you should avoid this fuckboy at all costs.

"If you don't want to go then I'll just take Keem," he says, secretly threatening not only you but also your workplace dynamic.

"I'm sure she's keem for it," he makes a pun.

"Ugh. Okay," you groan in agreement this time.

And then, there's something called human error.

At first, Chan thought that you have that stoic expression only whenever you're around him but he was wrong. He learns that it's just your default expression and you wear it like a defense mechanism to keep the predators at bay. At least, he shouldn't worry about leaving you alone in the bar as he's working the DJ booth.

Once he's done with his set, he ignores the calls for his name and walks up to you, seeing you rather unimpressed by what he just did. What did he expect though? You're not most girls.

He taps the table, signaling the bartender to come and tend to his order, "The usual, please?"

The bartender nods and is about to turn away to make his drink when he calls for him again, "And one more for this nice lady," he adds, gesturing at you and flashing you a sly smile.

Chan turns around to face the dance floor and leans his back against the counter, "So, what do you think?"

"It was good," you answer after sipping your drink.

"You have a filthy expression on your face," he teases you and gently elbows your side, "go on, tell me what you're really thinking."

"Strangling you with my bare hands," you answer without a beat.

Chan leans in close enough that he can get a whiff of the smell of your shampoo, "so that's your kink?"

"Only when I see fear in your eyes," you answer with a wicked smile.

"Wow. You know how to excite a guy," he praises, not entirely lying about it because he gets a little excited from your snarky comments.

The bartender comes with both of your drinks and you hurriedly finish your previous one to go ahead with the next. He watches as you take a small sip and then waits to see how your nose scrunched at the bitter aftertaste.

"You're single now and maybe it's time for you to get out there, you know, find a new love," he says, secretly hoping that you'll find it in him when he looks at you.

"Hey, Chris," a girl comes and without hesitating, placing a kiss on his cheek, "Great set!"

"Thanks, Alicia," he says to the tall lady with beautiful braided hair.

"This one is on me," she says as she gives him a drink from the ones she ordered.

"Cheers then!" He says, clinking his glass with hers with his charming smile on.

The lady leaves to take the drinks away and is soon engulfed by the crowd. Chan notices that you remain calm about that interaction, and again, what did he expect?

"At least, one of us has no problems getting some tonight," you take a jab at him.

"I'm taking you out so we can have fun tonight and enjoy yourself—"

"The only way I can enjoy myself is when I'm alone."

"Oh?" He gasps and gives you a wild glare.

You roll your eyes and sigh once you realize he's taking it the wrong way, "I just want to go home and binge my favorite show and sleep," you finish your sentence with a big gulp of drink and he gets to see another nose scrunch from you.

The intention was to take you out of the apartment and perhaps, he can get you to loosen up a little bit, making this getting to know each other thing a little easier for him. It seems like he's forcing it on you and maybe it wasn't a good idea after all.

"Okay, then, we'll go home after this one," he says, lifting his glass close to his mouth.

"Or you can just stay here and do your thing, and I'm going home," you suggest a better idea after finishing your drink and you grab your bag as if you just can't wait to get out of here.

Chan is quick to grab your arm and stops you from leaving, "Hey, at least, let me finish my drink first," he protests.

"You don't have to leave with me. I can go home myself," you say to him.

"Just wait for me," he squeezes on your arm and adds, "Please?"

You consider it for a moment and then say, "I'll wait for you outside."

Since he's done a gig here, Chan has to make a proper exit out of the club, he greets a few people who work there and grabs his backpack of equipment, carrying it in his hand as he walks out of there. He finds you leaning against the street lamp and the light casts a glowing halo on your head, making you look like an angel... with a stoic expression.

He grins when you notice him coming, "Okay, I lied, there's another thing we have to do tonight," he says.

"Goodness, Chris, just bag a lady and call it a night," you groan in complaint.

Both of his eyebrows ratchet up at your words, "It has nothing to do with that."

"What is it then?" You cross your arms together in front of you.

"Only the best part of the night," he answers with a cryptic smile.

Chan knew he should have started the night with food. He can see that your mood gradually elevates with every bite you take from the delicious kebab he recommended to get after a boozy night out.

By the time you both arrive at the apartment building, you get all quiet like a drowsy child after a day out at the park and he finds it cute, especially with the way your lips slowly jutting out and you keep widening your eyes to stay awake.

"How about next Friday night we're doing it your way?" he suggests as he keeps the elevator door open for you with his back.

"If that means you'll leave me alone then yes," your eyes turn small as you politely moan into your hand.

"We're going to stay in and binge-watch your favorite show and sleep," he lists everything you mentioned earlier and an idea pops into his head.

"We'll have a pajama party!" He announces along with a poor imitation of tooting horns.

"No!" You flatly reject the idea.

"I'll bring the snacks," he offers.

You steadfastly shake your head.

"Then I'll keep knocking on your door until you let me in," he annoyingly moves into your side until he's rubbing elbows with yours.

"Then I hope you get abducted by aliens," you come out with an absurd wish and it cackles him.

"You would miss me," he confidently remarks with his signature grin.

"Doubtful. Very doubtful."

"Why?"

"I know I'd get to see you again someday—"

Chan can't help himself from smiling but little does he know, you're not done with your sentence yet.

"— in hell."

That wipes the smile off his face, "but I'm a good person. People like me," he says while making an innocent face.

"Because they don't know you, if they did, someone would have kicked your ass already."

"They'd try," Chan easily says with a nonchalant shrug, and at the same time, you both burst out laughing.

This is not flirting and he's aware there's something wrong with this interaction but you know what? He likes every bit of it.

Chan's heart sinks when it's time for the two of you to part ways and before you get to slip away from him, he tugs at the strap of your bag.

"Hey, can't wait for our pajama party," he says.

You pull your bag until the strap slips out of his hand and head to your apartment door.

"No response," he points out, "it's as a yes then."

"No!" You shout.

"So... it's a no?" He asks in confusion.

You push the door to get inside your apartment and lingers by the doorway, facing him.

"No," you cheekily respond and then close the door, leaving him with a different kind of thrill for what comes next.

From the way this person treats your door like a tambourine, you can safely guess that it's Chan knocking on the door for the so-called pajama party.

Ugh, why did you agree to it in the first place? It's so unlike you to let someone in on your space but it doesn't matter whether you let him or not, the boundaries have been crossed so many times that there's no such thing as personal space anymore.

Before letting him in, you check through the peephole, and just as you expected, he comes undressed, literally. He's standing on the other side of the door wearing nothing but gray sweatpants hanging low around his hips.

"Please have mercy on my eyes and put some clothes on!" You shout through the door with your hand holding the knob.

"I don't wear pajamas. This is what I wear to sleep," he responds and you can hear him faintly laughing with your ear pressed on the door.

"And what makes you think you're going to sleep at my place tonight?"

"I don't know. A hunch," he playfully responds.

"Pajama party is officially canceled!" You say through the peephole.

"Okay, okay, I'll put some clothes on," he sighs in defeat.

You watch through the peephole to see if he's really going to his apartment to change. With his broad shoulders, all hunched up, he walks back to his apartment and doesn't even bother to close the door, he grabs whatever lying close to him and puts the dark t-shirt over his head. Even under the poor lighting, the ridges of his muscles are visible and inviting you to feel it with your touch.

As though he knows he's being watched, he looks your way and then trudges his way back to your door. The first thing you see after you open the door for him is his big grin that sends his dimples sinking deep into his cheeks.

With a glare at his empty hands, you ask, "And where's the snack?"

Chan puts his arms on each side of the doorframe and leans in close, towering you with his big figure, proudly he answers, "Ma'am, I am the snack."

Can't tell if he's trying to charm you, intimidate you, or both, doesn't matter because he failed at all of them.

"But you promised!" You can tolerate people when they make jokes about anything but you can't accept when it involves food.

Chan takes his phone out of his pocket and shows it to you, "It's being delivered. See?"

Your jaws unclenched in a second and you open the door wider for him, "You may come in!" You sweetly say with a curtsy.

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" He says with a bow before steps into your apartment.

It's ironic how you prepared everything despite you were grudging it, you set the sofa, put some cushions and since he said he was bringing the food, you bought drinks for tonight.

"I have juice, soda, and beers," you list everything you have in your fridge as you're looking at it.

"We'll have the soda for now and beers for later," Chan strategically plans.

The food he ordered only lasts for two episodes and from there, you both run on beers and chips while sitting on opposite sides of each other on the couch with your feet touching.

"I like seeing white stockings on women," Chan comments after seeing the female character wearing it under her dress.

"This is why I hate watching with a man," you say in a condescending tone.

"I'm not even saying anything about her body," he defends himself and playfully rubs his foot with yours.

"Just shh..." you hush him, getting back at him by tackling his foot with yours.

The whole time the TV show is playing, your attention is on him, you're merely curious if he's genuinely invested in it or just wants to annoy you with his presence. From your observation, it seems like it's the former but the jury's still out.

"Wait, is that it?" He asks as the first season has just ended and the credit title rolls down the screen.

"That's the end of the first season," you say, starting to gather the trash on the table and put it into a plastic bag.

"But there's another season, right?" He says, looking distressed that the show ends with a cliffhanger.

"Yeah," you answer.

"Then let's watch it!" He says with a grin and slowly blinking his eyes at you.

"No, Chris, it's late," you show him the time on the screen on your phone that it's close to midnight.

"But I want to know what happens next and I need to know now," he speaks like a spoiled little brat.

You get up from the sofa to get rid of the trash, "You can watch it on your own."

Grabbing the back of your sweater, Chan pulls you hard until you plop down onto the sofa next to you then he puts his arm around you to keep you down.

"Let's just party all night, eh?" He persuades you as he leans in close to the side of your head you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek.

You leer to the side at him and ask, "I can't make you leave, do I?"

"Not a chance," he shortly answers.

Seeing that there's no other way to make him leave but to fulfill his wish, you give in and sit back down on the sofa as Chan hits the play button.

With your stomach full and the exhaustion from the day, and you feel snug on the sofa wrapped in your blanket, you're getting drowsy as the night gets late. You manage to stay awake for two episodes but not long after that, your eyes get really heavy and you can barely keep them open anymore.

Going to rest my eyes for a bit, you tell yourself in your head but close your eyes, slowly drifting into deep slumber.

It's not new that Chan wakes up not knowing where he is, he lifts his head and looks around, taking in his surroundings to give him clues of his whereabouts. One look at the TV screen that shows a question whether he's still watching or not, he immediately recalls where he is, what he's doing here, and—

"Owh!" He lowly gasps as you accidentally elbow him on the ribs.

There he is, lying next to you on the sofa, your back pressed close to his chest he can feel every rise and fall of your body as you're breathing. He doesn't know how it comes to this and he's not complaining though, if anything, it's an opportunity for him to admire you up close.

Cautiously, he removes the hair covering your face to the side and takes an intimate look at your facial features, first at your eyes with your eyelashes fanning out so beautifully, he runs his fingertip down your nose and eventually at your lips which he dreams of kissing.

Do you know that you're so beautiful yet so unaware of it?

Chan gently buries his nose in your neck and inhales your heavenly scent that gets him intoxicated, putting himself in a test of restraint that he'll be likely to fail. All of a sudden, you stir in your sleep and nuzzle closer as if you're seeking warmth from his body heat.

What did he just put himself into? He frustratingly asks in his head.

Soon enough, he can feel your body start to mold against him and it feels nice, you're fulfilling his need for this closeness but unfortunately, he can't control how his body is reacting to this as it wants to do more than just being pressed close to yours.

Chan carefully places his hand on your hips and quietly, he tries to push you away to make a safe space between your bodies even though he has to suffer the loss of your warmth against him.

As if your body knows what he's trying to do, you push back even further and the curve of your ass sits right on the bulge growing inside his sweatpants, putting him at a greater risk.

"Fuck!" he mouthes in distress.

If it wasn't for the TV light that casts a hazy glow on you, he wouldn't notice that your eyes are open and you're waking up to him with his hand on your hips which he's afraid only giving you the impression that he tries to pull you close instead of the opposite.

"I—" he can't say anything without sounding like he's lying because he knows that a greater part of him wanted it, wanting you.

In the next moment, he finds your hand reaching for him and unexpectedly, you put your fingers across his lips, asking him to stop talking as you bring his head close until your lips touch. He doesn't dare to do anything but when you stroke his lower lip with your tongue, his instincts take over.

To no one's surprise, Chan claims your mouth like a starved man.

However, Chan doesn't plunge right into it, he's starting the kiss with innocent brushes of his lips on yours and teasing licks before taking your mouth once again in a deeper kiss.

When he draws back, your lips are parted on soundless gasps of desire. It takes a moment for your eyes to clear enough to focus on him and with a low voice, he says, "I couldn't resist it."

He can't waste a second without kissing you so he indulges in another dizzying kiss, "I thought about kissing you all week."

Days, weeks, months, it comes to a blur to him but he learned the agony of waiting so he counts the time until his lips can reunite with yours again, hopefully, once and for all.

"Now, I can't seem to stop," As he speaks, he threads his fingers into your hair and angles your head back. He trails kisses along your jawline, nips your chin, and kisses the corner of your mouth.

A murmur humming in your throat as he kisses you yet again and your hand flies into his hair, fingertips lazily scratching at his scalp. You suddenly pull away from the kiss and gaze into his dark eyes, "Then don't stop."

So Chan hasn't been the only one, after all.

Planting his mouth on yours again, he twines his tongue with yours, and oh... this taste, this softness, your hand in his hair, kiss after kiss after kiss.

He allows himself to run his fingertips down the length of your arm and smiles when goosebumps ripple outward. Nuzzling your neck, he breathes in the soft scent of your skin and kisses the sweet spot just behind your jaw. Your lips are calling him, but instead, he sucks on your earlobe and bites it, startling a shaky sigh from you.

He allows himself to explore more by running his hand along the length of your body, cupping the curve of your breasts, and even through the layers of fabrics, he can feel the firm buds of your nipple. He so badly wants to pinch it, love on it, but there is too much fabric in the way. He simply resolves it by slipping his hand under and he finds your soft mounds in a second, not wasting another second to fondle on it.

As he kisses you harder, and you arch into his body, you're undulating your hips against the aching bulge inside its confine, forcing him to bite back his groan.

Oh, he hasn’t wanted someone like this in... Has he ever wanted someone like this?

He reels himself back to the present, glancing down at his pale hand and your nipple caught between his fingers, it's an erotic sight indeed that he can't resist pinching it and enjoying your sharp intake of breath.

"Chris..."

The sound of his name falling from your lips is just as unexpected as it is hot. He sees you breathe through your parted lips that's swollen and glistening wet from all the kissing, and then at your wide, lustful eyes that tell him you're ready for more.

An impatient hand glides down your stomach and slips beneath the waistband of your shorts, his gentle fingers caress you with slow strokes. He is touching you there, right where you need him and you shiver, then burrow closer to him as more goosebumps dotted your skin.

"My God, you're drenched," he says and with each syllable, his lips grazed your ear.

Your body clenched hard, clenched even harder when he presses a finger deep into you, filling you. He massages your clit with lazy swirls of his thumb, making you start trembling against him.

He lowers a kiss on you again, tongue and teeth invading your mouth and that's all it takes to send you climbing quick and sharp toward your release.

His mouth finds your ear and with his hot breath tickles you, he lowly asks, "Does it feel good?”

There's no answer but you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you throw your head back, inhaling sharply. Chan can feel tiny muscles fluttering around his fingers, and he knows you are close.

He doesn't need to see to know the answer, he can feel it with his hand, "You’re drenching my palm," he whispers again.

With your hand in his hair, you bring his head close and peck his lips, "Chris, I want it," you mutter as you pull away.

"It?" He asks to confirm if you're thinking of the same thing and he's not taking the wrong sign.

You lightly nod, "Mmh-hmm."

"Condom?"

"No need," you shortly answer, "I'm on the pill."

A jolt of excitement surges all over his body just from the thought that he'll be inside you with no layer of protection and it utterly exhilarates him that he needs to calm down for a minute. He uses the time to remove your shorts and then his sweatpants next without taking his other arm from around you.

Once he settles himself behind you, he puts his hand between your legs, lifting a leg and putting it over his hips, allowing his hard member to get between your legs. It feels a whole lot different to feel how wet you are on every inch of his length.

"Feel that?" He asks you with his mouth nestled close to your ear and his swollen cock rubbing between your folds, "I'm aching for you."

Chan kisses your mouth, your jaw, your neck as hard flesh prodding at your sex, making you stop breathing for a moment and you feel nothing but a sensuous stretching that goes on and on until he seated himself fully inside you and oh, he fits perfectly.

"It's too good. You feel– oh... I'm going to lose it," he can't comprehend what he's feeling right now.

The heat, this tightness, so perfect for him and his body asks for nothing but more and more and more of you.

Responding to his body's needs, he withdraws and then thrusts back into you, soon enough, he sets a steady pace. His free hand slides down to your bundle of nerves, touching you there for added stimulation. You grip his wrist, seemingly intending to pull him away, but your hand refuses to cooperate.

The twin assaults of his fingers and his cock that fills you full kindle a flame inside you that spread all over you like wildfire. Your mouth is parted open but all that comes out are gasps and sighs of pleasure so instead of words, you communicate how you feel through your body. You spread your thighs wider and writhe to match his thrust for thrust.

There's nothing but the sounds of his hips slapping your ass and his cock that incessantly slipping in and out of you, and he likes how he finds peace despite his body being in pure chaos.

With his mouth lingering close to your ear, he knows you hear every shudder of his breath to the lowest of his sultry moans slipped out of his mouth, and honestly, he would have been embarrassed if it weren’t for your hand tangled in his curls and keep pulling him for a kiss, before finding his hand that rests on your chest and hold it.

"Perfect..." the word tumbles out of his mouth as your fingers slip right between the spaces of his fingers and lace it together.

"Ah, ah, ah," more moans fall out of your lips as you arch into him, and through it all, your eyes locked in a gaze with his, letting him see the pure pleasure that builds up inside you.

Chan has slept with a handful of people, but he’s never been so in tune with someone's body. He’s never been so desperate to please or so elated when he hears you cry his name as you cum around him.

The high takes you over and also your ability to move, speak, and think. You curl up, making you feel smaller against him. The hand interlaced with his tightens as he speeds up the motions of his hips and with one last deep thrust, he joins you in falling apart.

Using this tender moment to pour his affection for you, he's whispering your name and kissing you softly, then slowly, he eases out of—

"No, don't!" Your hand grabs at his hips, hard, nails digging into the flesh, "Stay."

Obeying your words, Chan holds you close, limbs to limb, skin to skin, hearts lying so close to each other with mere flesh and bones in between. He doesn't know what this was, but it sure as hell was not fucking. He kisses you hard and soft to find out.

It's when he pulls away and looks into your eyes that he figures out the answer as the most incredible feeling of being loved washes over him.

When Chan wakes up the next morning. He registers the sunlight on his face, the distant barking of a neighborhood dog, and the delicious smell of buttered toast and coffee, it's all around him and—

It just hits him that he's waking up on your sofa and he burrows into the blanket with a happy sigh once he recalls everything that happened last night to the tiniest details, summoning the butterflies to flutter around in his stomach.

The sound of your footsteps forces him to get out of his daze and he scrambles to get up when you walk past the sofa on your way to the kitchen.

"Morning!" He cheerily greets you while covering his naked lower half with the blanket.

Without looking and with your hands tying your hair, you fainty reply to his greeting, "Morning."

You didn't reply to his level of enthusiasm but that's okay, he just doesn't expect you to be this stoic this early in the day. Instead of searching for his sweatpants, he wraps the blanket around his hips like a towel and waddles his way to the kitchen.

"You're up early," he says, noticing that it's barely seven and he knows you usually leave for work a little after eight, sometimes close to nine.

"Early appointment. Have to do a client's hair. Wedding," you concisely explain as you quietly sip your coffee from a big red mug.

It's strange, the way you speak and how your eyes are looking anywhere but in his direction. For now, he's going to think that you're just tired and not fully meeting your dose of caffeine yet

"Okay, so what's for breakfast?" He asks, excitedly tapping the dining table with his hands and grinning at you.

"Toast and coffee," you say while standing on your toes to get a glass from the top cabinet.

"Anything but coffee, please?" He politely asks, watching you walk the other way to get a carton of orange juice out of the fridge.

It's a sunny day but the room shares the same temperature as the glass of orange juice you pour into his glass. He observantly watches you, searching for any clues whether this is how you are in the morning or something is actually off with you.

There's one way to know, first, he takes a small sip of his juice to help with his dry throat and then jabs around the topic, "Last night was fun, don't you think?"

There's no answer and he can't see your reaction toward it when you're standing with your back facing him and he begins to think that it's the latter.

"I'm thinking we should do this again next Friday but I'll get to pick what we're going to watch and you bring—"

"Chris, I'm sorry but..." You swiftly turn on your feet and check the time on the clock, "I have to leave now."

"Sure, yeah, you can't be late for a wedding," he playfully says while keeps searching for your eyes to make you look at him.

You walk around your apartment to gather your things, your phone, and your wallet, stuffing them into a purse. You grab another bag which he guesses is one you usually carry for work and that only confirms that you're indeed leaving for an appointment.

"You can stay for breakfast and use the spare keys to lock the door when you leave," you say those things in a hurry as you drag your bag to the foyer.

He turns on his chair to look at you as he jokes, "We've only slept together twice and you're already giving me your apartment keys?"

Unfortunately, the jokes fall short as he hears nothing but the sound of the knob turning and you're getting out of the apartment.

"Have a great day at work!" He shouts at you but all he gets in response is the door closing and then clicks in place.

Chan can't tell anymore if you're leaving for work or you're leaving him, but it feels like he's getting his karma for always being the one leaving in the morning.

It's wedding season and that explains why there are a lot of scribbles on your calendar, you have a lot of appointments to do this month, and you get so busy that he's hardly seeing you lately.

Work is one thing he can understand but you can't possibly work 24 hours a day without a day off, right? At one point, he should have caught you leaving or coming home from work, whichever it is, the chance never comes to him, not even once.

Chan begins to wonder if you're avoiding him, he knows because there's a slight difference to it and it's in the purpose. You've been purposely doing things to avoid him.

With an excuse prepared in his head, Chan comes knocking on your door the next Friday night. He's been keeping your spare keys and can easily let himself in but that would be impolite, he needs to be on your good side to earn your trust.

After a few times knocking with no answer, he lets himself in but not because he has the spare keys, the door is unlocked so he figures you must be at home and doing something that makes you unable to get the door.

"Anyone's home?" He shouts into the void in your living room and hesitantly walks further inside.

Hearing the loud humming of a hairdryer, he walks to your bedroom. Unexpectedly, you're coming out as he's about to walk in.

"Oh, God!" You gasp in surprise as you hold the front of your bathrobe together, "What are you doing here?"

In contrast, Chan laughs seeing your shell-shocked expression in his presence. He then crosses his arms together and leans the side of his body against the doorframe, not forgetting to wear his grin as he answers to you, "Just checking to see if my neighbor is alive."

"Well, I'm alive," You're talking as you're taking dresses out of your closet, "and I need your help."

Looking at your mood and the way you talk normally to him, he concludes that the thought that you've been purposely avoiding him was just a silly thought after all. Other than that, you need his help and he likes being needed by you.

"I'm at your service," Chan says, permitting himself to step into your bedroom and sit on the end of your bed.

You're standing in front of him, holding up two dresses in your hands, one is a white line dress with a v-neck and the other is a body-hugging velvet dress in a deep burgundy color. Both will look good on you but he needs to know one thing before he gives his vote.

"Are we going out tonight?" He playfully asks, feeling a buzz of excitement filling him.

You turn around to face the full-length mirror while holding the dress in front of you in turn to give you ideas on how it will look on you.

"I have a date," you tell him.

Hearing that, the excitement in his body vanishes in a second and is replaced by a cold shudder of panic. He tries to laugh it off in denial.

"A–a date?" He stammers.

"Uh-huh," You end up settling the dress situation yourself by choosing to go with the white linen dress, "Can you get out of my room so I can change?"

His subconscious has the tendency to obey you, he gets up from the bed and walks out of your room, and he lingers there by the door, contemplating whether he should push the conversation or not.

"With who?" He doesn't want to know but curiosity gets the best of him.

"A guy I met at one of the weddings," you share from inside your bedroom.

"Is this—" he pauses to swallow air, "Is this your first date?"

"Yes and I'm excited," your voice grows louder and soon, the door cracks open and you reveal yourself to him, "Now, tell me I made the right choice?"

He takes a staggering step backward and asks, "On the date or the dress?"

You take a look at yourself on the round mirror hanging on the wall, "Is it too casual? No?"

For a second, Chan forgets about the direness of the situation and takes a good look at you, the dress compliments your shape so well, the hem flares up like a blooming flower and the v-cut neckline offers a modest cleavage, perfect for a first date. If he has to be honest, even without the dress, it won't make you less comely but he hates that you look this good and it's not for him.

"You look... good," he tries to make it sound like your appearance doesn't make any impression on him.

You wipe the excess lipstick on the corner of your mouth then look over your shoulder, "And the date?"

He doesn't expect you to give him the chance to say something about it and obviously, he's going to try his best to intercept your plan.

"Don't you think it's too soon?" He follows you as you head back to your bedroom then stops at the doorway as you enter the bathroom after, "To get on a date."

You take off the hair rollers nestling on the crown of your hair and your hair flows down like big springs, then brush it down with your fingers.

"You told me yourself that I should get out there and find new love," you return his words to him.

That feels like he's just slapped himself in the face. Why did he tell you that? Oh, yeah, that's because he wants you to start opening up so he can let himself in and fill that position.

"But that's not– I just didn't think..." his words trailing off as he can't exactly explain the reason why he said it, not now at least.

You put all of your hair to the front then flip it all together to the back, you're shaking the end with your fingers, sending the sweet smell of your shampoo flying around in the room.

"Didn't think what?" You curiously ask as you apply a fresh coat of lipstick on your lips, the shade is bright red like a flamethrower.

"When I said you should start finding a new love, I was hoping that you could finally see me and..." he can't find another way of telling you without saying it out loud, "perhaps, you can find it in me."

That makes you stop whatever you're doing and turn around on your feet, leaning against the bathroom counter, you look at him in eerie silence, and then out of nowhere, a laugh bursts out of you.

"Chris, stop playing!" You brush past him on the way out of the bathroom.

He's trailing behind you as you pick up a purse from a collection of them in your closet, "I'm not playing," he assures you.

"Okay, yeah, I trust you," you half-heartedly respond, heading out and going to the foyer to pick your shoes next.

"Can you please look at me?" He pleads as he waits for you to make up your mind with your choice of shoes.

"Just look at me, please?" He begs again, desperately.

You take your chosen shoes and hold them in one hand as you hold his gaze, "Okay, I'm looking at you."

In those fierce eyes, Chan finds the courage to assess his feelings and tries to fathom them into words. He inhales air before letting it out in a long, low sigh.

"Don't go on that date," he demands.

"Why?"

"Because I want you here."

"Chris, that's not a good enough reason," you say with a low laugh.

He gently places his hands on each of your elbows and tenderly stares into your eyes, "Then go ahead, ask me that one question."

"What question?"

"Ask me what are we," he steadily holds your gaze even though he feels a whirlwind in his head and chaos stirring inside his chest.

You brush it off with a laugh, "Why should I ask you—"

"Just ask me the question!" He accidentally raises his voice at you and immediately lowers his voice after, he looks down to take a breather before looking back into your eyes, "Ask me what are we!"

It feels like an eternity waiting for you to ask him that but he has the patience and an answer to that, he only needs you to ask him that.

You drop the shoes onto the floor and take a step forward, you hold his gaze as he holds his breath. Deep down, he knows that you'd have to be blind to not see the light of affection in his eyes.

To his dismay, you unexpectedly retreat and pick up everything with you toward the door. With your back turned to him, you say, "I don't want to be late for the date."

It's been an hour since he came back from your apartment and he's still stuck in the denial stage. He's lying in the dark and stares at the ceiling of his bedroom, ignoring his phone that's been tirelessly blaring with notifications.

It's not a rejection if you don't give him a definite, abundantly clear answer, right? Besides, there's a chance that the guy blew the date and you can see that he's the better man. Is he though? Is he any better?

There are two ways to handle this situation. One, he can try to forget all about it, hit call back on one of the girls contacting him right now, get out of here, and distract himself with a physical release. Or two, wait because there's something in him that tells him to wait just a little longer.

But wait for what? Wait until you return from your date? Wait until he sees it happens, you with your new beau, all lovey-dovey next door?

It seems like he's finally progressed into the next stage: anger.

Every thought that crosses his head right now is not nice and he needs an outlet for this anger. He shoots up from the bed, he starts pacing back and forth in the room, hands balled into fists, he gets this urge to punch something, he wants to— No, he can't wait with this ugly feeling slowly taking over him and driving him insane.

"Fuck this," he curses out loud into the void in his apartment, he picks up his phone and texts someone about meeting up tonight.

While typing a text, knocking comes on his door, and whoever it is, they'd better not piss him off or— the knocking comes again, he exhales air out of his mouth to calm down and walks in heavy steps to get the door.

It seems as if his anger wasn't there in the first place, the second he opens the door and sees you, all of those nasty thoughts vanish into thin air.

You're carrying your shoes in one hand and the other is holding one side of the doorframe. You look at him with a smile ever so softly blooms on your face, "So..."

See? It wasn't a rejection. He just needed to wait a little longer and God, he was glad he did.

"So...?" He asks back, holding the urge to smile back at you.

You daringly stare into his eyes as you take a step into his apartment, "So... what are we, Chris?"

It's crazy how your magnetic field is so strong that he can't stand being this close to you and not touching you, his hesitant hands are reaching for you, they retreat and give, doing it for a while until you drop everything off your hands and put your hands around his shoulders. Indirectly permitted him to put his hands on you.

"What are we, mmh?" You ask again with your eyes flickering like they hold stars in them.

"We are..." he considers to let the truth out but what's the fun in that? He needs to get back at you for making him doubt everything earlier, "Neighbors."

"No," you shake your head in disagreement, "You're definitely going to say something else."

Luckily, he's strong enough to hold you steady as you put your whole weight against him, leaving not even an inch of gap between your bodies.

"Someone still has her panties in a twist," he playfully responds with his charming grin on, dimples and all.

"Shame on you because I don't have any panties on," you say with your small smile turning into a broad one.

His eyes widen in slight shock, and his hand automatically glides downward, landing a caress on the curve of your ass and slipping under the hem of your dress to check whether your words are true or not. His fingers edge at the lacy fabric of your underwear and it turns out to be the latter.

"Ugh, you're lying!" He groans in complaint but it doesn't make him less happy, he's elated, and his heart is about to burst.

"Partly."

"How so?"

"Because you're about to take them off," you shamelessly say.

Chan wants to let go of all the things that hold him back. He brings both of your lips together, he kisses you like you're oxygen and he's short on air. He runs his hands down your back to your hips, cupping your sweet ass, and pulls you even closer. You struggle to get closer as he kisses you deep and hard your head tilted to the back, you weave your fingers through his hair as you pour yourself into the kiss.

Everything that happened before this is in the past now, all he knows now is your taste and the hot sighs of your breath, and then this irrepressible want to devour you.

"I'm going to carry you to bed," Chan's plush lips brushing yours as he speaks.

The idea of carrying you to bed is highly appealing to him at the moment. He likes holding you and as messed up as it was, he wants to throw you onto the bed, in the most respectful way.

"Then what are you waiting for, kangaroo boy?"

A sharp gasp escapes your mouth as he swoops you into his arms and carries you in the direction of the bedroom. You have your arms looped around his neck to hold onto and place kisses along his jaw all the way to his bedroom.

Instead of throwing you onto the bed like he planned, he throws both of you onto the bed and it quakes, he immediately props an elbow against the mattress to not put his weights on you.

"God, you're so beautiful," his sigh tells how overwhelmed he is by what he's seeing and what a privilege that he's able to place kisses on such beauty.

When you try to gasp a mouthful of air, he breathes it into you with his hand resting on your jaw, you look up at him, and a starburst of emotion expands inside him. He thinks you see it in his eyes because you softly smile at him.

Giving you time to breathe, he shifts his focus elsewhere, he kisses and sucks on your neck, all the while his hands are keeping your body closely pressed against him, making you aware of the firm flesh prodding your crotch through his blue jeans.

The next thing is his mouth searching for the source of the heat and your body goes into total system failure as his mouth inches closer to where you want him. Between your thighs, you flush and tingle with wanting.

"This smell..." he hums as he buries his nose in your clothed sex, making you able to feel every sharp intake of air he inhales through his nose.

He pries his mouth open and plants it on your heating wetness, not caring about the lacy fabric that blocks him from tasting it raw.

"Mmh..." he deeply hums again, almost like the low roar of a wild animal hunting at night, "I want this smell all over me."

The intensity of your desire frightens and embarrasses you at the same time, you need a little control but control is gone when Chan tugs the waistband of your underwear between his teeth and begins to pull it down your legs.

He places his hands on the back of your thighs and slowly, lifts both of your legs upward as he keeps biting your underwear. You're watching as he tries to take it off of you with such determination.

Once he succeeds, he grabs the underwear from between his teeth and holds it up to show you his latest conquest, "Twisted panties no more," he says with a sly grin.

Instead of tossing it aside, he puts the underwear into the back pocket of his jeans, "I'm keeping it."

There are so many layers of clothing keeping him from feeling your skin but he can start by removing his t-shirt, having no problems showing you his taut muscles and his pale skin that reddens around the chest, neck, and both ears.

Next, Chan grabs your knees, he pulls them apart to bare your sex to his eyes and his chest expands on a sharp inhalation. The look on his face tells it all, he wants you, he wants you so bad that he swallows air, sending his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

It's the first time that he gets to see it open and bare, gushing with essence, tantalizing. He leisurely takes his time to admire it while plotting things he wants to do to it.

He rubs his hands down the sides of your thighs and lowly sighs, without his eyes straying away from the sight between your legs, he says, "You have the prettiest little—”

He thinks he's imagining it but he's not the only one hearing knocks on his apartment door. Sensing someone else's presence, your legs instinctively shut and you pull the hem of your dress down.

"Chris, are you expecting someone?" You ask with your forehead wrinkled in question.

"No," he shortly answers, he doesn't want you to think that he's waiting for someone else other than you, "I don't—"

The knocking comes again a while later, a little too aggressive that both of you can't ignore it anymore.

"Someone is knocking on your door," you say.

"Yeah, but I swear, I don't—"

You place your hand on his waist and look at him, "well, then, get the door and find out."

He'd rather have someone sawing him off of you than having to voluntarily get away from you, whoever this person is will be responsible for what's not going down at this moment.

"Only if you promise you won't change your mind," he tells you with a sly smirk.

"If you don't hurry and get the door, I might," you say back.

"Stay still. Don't move. Not even an inch," he pecks your lips for every warning with both hands cupping your face. He plants another long peck on your lips before dashing toward the front door and thinking of just sending this person away so he can get back to you.

This is where he makes a mistake. He doesn't check through the peephole and opens the door right away, having the faintest idea that catastrophe awaits on the other side of the door.

"Ah, there you are!" The girl says, jumping at him and immediately locking lips with him.

It happens so fast that by the time Chan registers it, the girl pulls away but keeps her arms looped around his shoulders.

"I came here as soon as I received your text," she grabs his chin and kisses his slacked-open mouth, "I hope I didn't make you wait long."

On the other end of the room, he hears your footsteps coming and soon, you come into his sight. You look so calm and he'd prefer a raging sea because with calm water, he never really knows what he's dealing with.

With an enigmatic smile, you look at him and say, "You know what, Chris? I change my mind."

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neferaskingdom · 3 months ago

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♡ It's Not You, It's Your Pants | CL16

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: Girl roasts Charles Leclerc’s tragic pants online, then accidentally crashes into him in Monaco. Cue spilled coffee, fashion rants, and an existential crisis about how her life turned into a Wattpad fanfic in under five minutes.

A/N: Just a random crack idea I had after seeing Charles' pants on Pinterest.

CHARLES LECLERC MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

The pants in question:

Monaco was as glamorous as your Instagram feed had led you to believe—blue skies, sparkling yachts, and streets that looked like they’d been personally polished by billionaires. You’d come here for a break from your intense fashion studies, soaking up the vibes (and let’s be honest, hoping for a celebrity sighting). And maybe—just maybe—you’d catch a glimpse of a certain F1 driver whose face had become a staple on your social media, along with some questionable fashion choices.

It was your first time here, a small vacation before diving back into the hectic world of fashion school. Your excuse? Inspiration. But honestly, you just wanted to escape to the Côte d'Azur and sip some coffee.

But you weren’t just an F1 fan. You had your own little corner of fame on Instagram. As a fashion student with a decent following, your niche was breaking down and rating celebrity outfits. Recently, you’d gained serious attention for a video where you roasted none other than Charles Leclerc—the beloved racing prince of Monaco—for wearing, and you quote yourself, “blue baggy pants that looked like they were in a fistfight with a bunch of scissors.”

It wasn’t personal; it was business. And the fact that the pants had star-shaped rips in them? Your comment was basically a public service announcement.

“Look at these pants,” you’d said, holding up a screenshot of Charles sporting his, ahem, questionable fashion statement. “I mean, what are we even doing here? Are these pants or a craft project gone wrong? Who looks at a pair of baggy jeans and thinks, ‘You know what’s missing? Giant star-shaped cutouts for maximum confusion!’”

As you strolled through Monte Carlo, cappuccino in hand, you scrolled through the comments on your viral video.

“Not gonna lie, I kinda miss when Charles used to wear those skinny jeans that made him look like a confused hipster.”

“ARE WE JUST NOT GONNA TALK ABOUT THE STAR CUTOUTS?!?!”

“I think Charles Leclerc has been taking fashion advice from his 8-year-old self. Stars? Really? Babe, it’s not the 2000s anymore.”

“Not the hero we deserve, but the one we need—thank you for saying what we were all thinking about those pants.”

“Leclerc’s stylist should be fired, immediately.”

You chuckled at one of the memes someone had made—a zoomed-in shot of Charles in his infamous star-cutout pants, captioned: “I’m a star, literally.” Honestly, the internet was undefeated.

Mid-laugh, you rounded a corner, not looking where you were going, and—WHAM—collided with someone solid, causing you to spill your coffee, drop your phone, and let out a noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a scream.

“Oh my God! I am so, so sorry!” you babbled, fumbling to grab your phone off the ground.

“No problem, really—”

You froze. That voice.

You didn’t need to look up to recognize that slightly accented, velvety smooth tone. The universe had decided today was the day it turned your life into a Wattpad fanfiction.

Charles Leclerc was standing right in front of you.

And not just standing. He was smiling—that damn heart-stopping smile—and then something in his expression shifted. His eyes narrowed slightly as if he was trying to place where he knew you from. You, meanwhile, were contemplating whether it was possible to will yourself into nonexistence through sheer force of embarrassment.

“You’re…” Charles blinked and then a glint of recognition flashed in his eyes. “Wait, you’re the girl from that Instagram video. The one about my pants.”

If your life was a movie, this would be the part where someone hit pause so you could have a full existential crisis. Unfortunately, reality didn’t work like that, and all you could do was stare at him, jaw slack, as your brain tried to reboot.

“I, uh… well…” you stammered, unsure of how to explain to the very person whose fashion choices you’d roasted in front of millions of people that it wasn’t personal.

Charles tilted his head, his smile widening. “You really didn’t like my pants, huh?”

Oh God. This was happening. This was actually happening.

“I mean, it’s not that I didn’t like them…” you began weakly, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that you were currently being confronted by Charles freaking Leclerc. “It’s just… they were, you know, kind of…” You gestured vaguely toward his legs as if that would somehow help explain your deep-seated hatred for the star-ripped monstrosities.

“Kind of what?” he asked, clearly enjoying watching you squirm.

You took a deep breath, deciding to just go for it. “Okay, look. They were confusing. Like, were they pants? Or was it some weird attempt at turning your legs into a constellation? I couldn’t tell. They had star-shaped rips, Charles. also, why were there so many weird cutouts? Are they… windows? Are your pants ventilated?”

Charles let out a snort, clearly struggling to keep it together. “Ventilated?”

You nodded, gaining momentum now. “Exactly! They look like they’re half-torn on purpose, but not in a cool, grungy way. It’s like someone started cutting them up and then gave up halfway through. And the bagginess? Charles, I don’t even know where to begin. It’s like you bought them two sizes too big, but then tried to fix it by adding rips. And it just… doesn’t work.”

Charles burst out laughing, his hand covering his mouth as he tried to rein in his amusement. “You really think they were that bad?”

You blinked at him, dead serious. “Charles, those pants looked like they got into a fight with a pair of kindergarten scissors and lost.”

He was full-on laughing now, and you felt a small victory in that. At least he wasn’t offended. Although, considering how often people talked about drivers online, he probably had thicker skin than you’d given him credit for.

“I have to admit, I didn’t think anyone would notice the stars,” Charles said between laughs, wiping away a tear from his eye. “But you? You gave them a whole five-minute segment.”

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I didn’t mean to turn it into an entire rant! It just… it snowballed.”

Charles grinned at you, his expression softening a bit. “No, it was funny. I saw the video. My brothers couldn’t stop laughing. Arthur sent it to me like five times.”

You blinked. “Your brothers… sent you the video?”

“Yep. They even gave the pants a name. They call them ‘the constellation pants’ now.”

You couldn’t help it. You snorted. “You should burn those pants. Like, immediately.”

He looked down at his legs, pretending to think it over. “They’re not that bad.”

“Charles,” you sighed, suddenly feeling a wave of passion wash over you. “Those pants were an abomination. They weren’t just bad—they were like an insult to pants everywhere. Like, what even were they? Baggy, ill-fitting, with random star-shaped rips? Did they start out as pants or was it some kind of tragic attempt at upcycling? Because I swear to God, it looked like a fabric store exploded on your legs.”

He blinked, clearly not expecting you to dive headfirst into a passionate rant about pants, but there was no stopping you now.

“And don’t get me wrong,” you continued, gesturing wildly. “I’m all for experimental fashion. I love a good risk. But those pants? They looked like you lost a bet to a five-year-old. I’ve seen better craftsmanship at a kids’ summer camp sewing class. They were offensive, Charles. Offensive to pants, offensive to legs, and offensive to anyone with eyes.”

Charles looked back up at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Okay, but what’s so wrong with adding a little personality to my wardrobe? Stars are cool.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head. “Not when they’re cut out of your pants, they’re not!”

“Fair enough,” he said, still smiling. “But now you’ve got me curious. If I did burn the pants, what would you suggest I wear?”

Was this a trick question? Was he seriously asking you, the random fashion student who insulted him online, for fashion advice? What was your life?

“Well…” you began, mentally assembling an outfit in your head. “For starters, how about something that doesn’t look like it belongs in a bad 2000s boyband? Maybe some slim-fit jeans that actually fit properly. And—oh!—ditch the weird rips. You’re Charles Leclerc, not a rejected *NSYNC member.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed by your decisiveness. “You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I’m just saying… you’ve got the face, the career, the whole package. You shouldn’t let the pants drag you down.”

Charles grinned, leaning in slightly. “So, you think I have the whole package?”

Your brain screeched to a halt. Did he just—? Did Charles Leclerc just flirt with you?

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, star boy,” you shot back, smirking despite the fact that your internal monologue was currently having a breakdown. “I’m only here trying to fix your fashion sense.”

Charles chuckled, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. And that’s when the next bomb dropped.

“Well then, maybe you can help me shop sometime?” He said it so casually, like he wasn’t currently turning your entire existence upside down with one smooth sentence. I THOUGHT CARLOS WAS THE SMOOTH OPERATOR.

“I—wait, what?” You blinked rapidly, wondering if you’d heard him correctly. “Did you just… ask me to go shopping with you?”

He smiled again, that devastatingly charming smile that should probably come with a warning label. “Yeah. I mean, you clearly have strong opinions about what I wear. Might as well put them to good use.”

Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. This was fine. Everything was fine. You were standing in the middle of Monaco, and Charles Leclerc—your internet crush since forever—was asking you to go shopping with him. Totally normal. Just another Tuesday. Nothing to freak out about.

Yet your inner monologue was screaming, “MY LIFE IS A WATTPAD FANFICTION, WHAT IS HAPPENING?!”

“I, uh…” you stammered, trying to process this. “Are you serious?”

“Of course,” Charles replied smoothly, his eyes twinkling. “I’ve got to fix my ‘constellation pants’ problem, right? Who better to help me than the girl who went viral for hating them?”

You were pretty sure your brain had short-circuited at this point. But somehow, you managed to respond, your voice steady despite the fact that your insides were doing cartwheels. “I mean… I guess I could do that. If you really want fashion advice.”

Charles nodded, then casually pulled out his phone. “Great. Let me get your number, and we’ll sort something out.”

You stared at him. Was this real life?

He handed you his phone, and you slowly, robotically, typed in your number, still half-expecting to wake up from this fever dream.

After you handed it back, Charles shot you a grin that could probably melt steel. “So… how about lunch tomorrow? We could discuss your fashion intervention plan.”

Your internal monologue was now full-on screaming. WHAT IS THIS LIFE?

“Lunch? Uh… sure?” you replied, feeling like a character in a rom-com who was two seconds away from tripping over their own feet.

“Perfect,” he said, his smile widening. “I’ll text you.”

And just like that, Charles Leclerc—the man whose fashion sense you had ruthlessly destroyed in front of the entire internet—waved goodbye, leaving you standing there in a daze, wondering if you were hallucinating or not.

Your life? Officially. Unreal.

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frosla55 · 2 years ago

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why did sam smith go as a yassified bin bag to the brits 💀

#someone needs to fire their stylist omfggg

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xshadowdelta · 5 months ago

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Witch

Irene x Male Reader (3.6K Length)

"Hey rookie, it’s time to work."

You stood up and left that small service room, in whose sign was written 'Authorized Service Only'.

It was your first week in this new summer job as a bellboy at the most famous 5-star hotel, right in the middle of the city with a huge amount of guests every day. You got here thanks to a friend’s recommendation, not your dream job, but you really needed the money, and the pay was juicy. You arrived at the reception hall where your manager was standing next to a mountain of suitcases, feeling as if your soul wanted to leave your body seeing all those bags.

"Miss Bae Joohyun’s luggage, room 362, as soon as possible, she is waiting for it."

It took you a while to place every one of the suitcases in the luggage birdcage, using every skill you had in the Tetris game to not drop them. Then you took the elevator to the third floor, and once there, you drove until you reached the indicated room by your senior.

You knocked on the door and fixed the wrinkles in your jacket, since your first day, the manager had been very insistent on looking perfect in front of the clients. You heard the sound of the door opening and forced one of your best smiles,

"Good morning, Miss Bae, here is your luggage."

The woman in front of you didn’t say a single word as she scanned you up and down, just a slight head move to give you permission to get inside the room, meanwhile, she continues with the phone call in which she was involved.

Oh yeah, another rich middle-aged woman with a major superiority complex. You frowned and let out a whisper that only you could hear.

"Witch…"

But you have a job to do, so you entered the suite along with the luggage and began to unstack all the suitcases.

You looked back at the woman who was now standing, looking at the beautiful views offered by the windows of that room. She was speaking in a foreign language, maybe korean.

Yet you managed to understand the word "stylist" and it gave you the feeling that the person on the other side of the line was getting a good scold.

You could only see the profile of her face, enough to detect a serious and cold expression that you didn't like at all, but still you had to admit that she was a very beautiful woman.

The work was finished at the same time she ended the call. Your eyes met for a moment, and you felt a shiver run through your body. You gave her a small bow before saying goodbye.

"Have a good stay with us, Miss Bae, we are at your disposal." You were already close to the door when her voice stopped you.

"Wait a moment, please."

Another smile was forced in your face before turning on your feet to come face to face with her.

"Do you need anything else?"

"Here is your tip."

She got some bills out of her wallet and offered them to you. You hesitated at first, but you ended up taking them, and for the first time, your smile was a genuine one. You save them in the pocket of your uniform, ready to finally leave that room.

"By the way, just from one look, have you been able to deduce that I am a witch?" Suddenly, your breathing stopped, and your skin tone turned pale white. You were sure you had said it quietly enough for her not to hear that.

"Being a woman as important as me. I must be alert to everything that happens around me, don’t you think?”

Cool, now she can read minds, definitely a witch.

"I apologize, Miss Bae, it was never my intention to hurt your feelings." Your voice trembled, knowing you could be fired because of this.

"Feelings? I put them aside many years ago."

The confusion on your face was notorious, your eyes followed her to see how she took a seat, watching you with a scary look. Another shiver ran down your spine. Running away from there was not a good idea, first because it wouldn't solve anything and would make you look like a coward, but the truth is that you wanted to disappear from the world at that moment.

On the other hand, you could just cry like a baby begging for her forgiveness, that would certainly be ridiculous, but it would save your ass from a guaranteed dismissal.

"Miss Bae…"

"Don’t tell me. Do you want us to forget this incident, right?"

Her face was cold, and her words sounded like ice, sinking deeper and deeper into your chest. But you couldn't articulate a single word, just nodded your head.

For a small period of time, you thought that a halo of kindness would take over her, and she would give in to your request to forgive you, but kindness wasn't in the dictionary of Bae Joohyun.

"Get naked"

It took you a few seconds to understand the request she had just made. She didn't take long to repeat. "What are you waiting for? Get naked"

"WHAT?"

That scream only made her angrier, hitting the ground with her foot, impatient. Her look did not change at any time, she continued staring at you, challenging you.

"I see, you don’t care about this job, so…"

"Wait…"

Your hands started to move, and your uniform jacket fell to the floor. You continued unbuttoning your shirt, making your naked torso visible.

Next was taking off your shoes so you could get rid of your pants that would accompany the rest of the clothes on the floor, leaving you in underwear under the watchful eye of Mrs. Joohyun, who now had a slight mischievous smile while looking at you.

"I think we have a different concept about nudity."

You looked down at your nether area, and then your eyes returned to her. She was really trying to humiliate you in every way. "Everything?"

The coldness of her gaze was enough of an answer for you, making you slide your hands over your boxers, leaving you now completely naked. "Now I want you to stay there, don’t move and pay attention."

You felt like you were about to faint right there when you saw that woman spread her legs on the couch, raising her dress to reveal her panties, which she pushed aside.

She was showing you her naked pussy before she started caressing it with her hand. You couldn't believe your eyes, a minute ago you were fired, and now you had an incredibly hot woman masturbating herself right in front of you. Joohyun licked his own hand as she stroked herself fast, starting to moan with no shame. Despite finding yourself in this complicated situation, watching this show made your body react, and your penis was already completely erect. You tried to move one of your hands towards your penis, but Joohyun's voice stopped you. "Told you to, don't move!" "Remember that your job is at risk."

Then she inserted two of her fingers inside her pussy to stimulate herself more. Hear her loud moans, and the watery sound due to the humidity of her vagina was driving you crazy.

Joohyun continued like this for a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, Meanwhile, you were praying that this torture would come to an end, and miraculously she would decide to forgive you and run away out of there, straight to the employee bathroom to masturbate yourself, thinking about what you were experiencing at this moment.

"Come here" She demanded in an authoritarian tone, and you approached until you were right in front of her, which didn't stop her from continuing to pleasure herself.

"On your knees."

Now, your face was practically a few centimeters from her pussy, but you didn't expect Joohyun to let out one last pleasure scream, squirting directly on you.

You closed your eyes at time, however, now your face was covered by Joohyun fluids, who was now breathing tiredly but still looking at you, with a serious expression on her face.

“Wow”

Was the only thing you could say, you were in shock after what had just happened. You ran your hand over your face, trying to clean up the mess, licking a couple of your fingers in the process.

"Delicious"

"What have you said?" She was stunned, and her voice tone sounded even more enraged.

"You are delicious, Mrs. Bae."

That answer made her get up from the couch in a bad mood. She walked to the pile of your clothes on the floor and grabbed the tie that minutes ago had surrounded your neck, but now was being used to tie your hands at your back.

"What are you doing?" You asked, standing up.

She stood next to you and, without warning, grabbed your still erect penis with one of her hands, making you gasp.

"You keep saying vulgarities, you need a real punishment."

She whispered in your ear, starting to masturbate your penis slowly, making you moan a little bit. She was increasing the pace, stroking you with both hands at the same time.

"You were supposed to feel humiliation, and instead you had the courage to taste my fluids and the nerve to say 'delicious.' I have never met someone like you, you are quite a challenge."

Your brain was unable to say anything as it was busy moaning in pleasure at Jonghyun's touch.

"Mrs. Bae, I'm about to…"

"Don't you even dare, now it's my turn to taste you."

She stopped touching you and crouched on her knees in front of you. She looked up, straight into your eyes, you saw that look again, that no longer seemed so cold, but immediately closed your eyes because of the immense pleasure you felt when her mouth devoured your cock.

Your body staggered, and you cursed for having your hands tied at that moment. You opened your eyes again only to see how she sucked your cock over and over again at an accelerated but constant pace, damn, you were in heaven.

She grabbed your balls, and at the same time she was sucking you, pressing on them, making you feel a mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Fuck, you have a good dick here."

She spit on your cock, going back to masturbate you, making wet your entire length, so that now when she sucked you, she also slurped some saliva.

“Mrs. Bae…”

She stopped for a second and looked into your eyes again.

"Irene…call me Irene."

The beat of your heart increased because of that, a feeling that was quickly replaced by another wave of pleasure when you noticed how she reintroduced your penis into her mouth, now even reaching his throat, causing her to choke on your cock.

You looked at the ceiling, trying to hold on as long as possible, wishing this moment would never end, then you felt a pinch of pain in your thighs, so you looked down again.

Your eyes found the view of Irene grabbing your thighs with her nails and the entirety of your cock inside her mouth, with some tears welling up in her eyes. She closed her eyes and started moving her head back and forth. You could say she was using you to fuck her own throat.

She stopped to take a breath, but immediately lifted your cock with one of his hands and began licking your balls desperately. "Keep looking at me or this will end here."

It was the first instruction that you would gladly follow.

She ran her tongue along the entire length, licking every inch before giving your tip a special treatment and taking it back into her mouth, this time masturbating you with her hands at the same time as she sucked you off. That made you about to explode.

"Irene…" You managed to say between several moans.

Then she let it off from her mouth again and masturbated you fiercely with both hands, looking at you with lust. She opened her mouth as wide as she could, sticking her tongue out. You knew what she wanted.

There was no need to say anything else. A few more seconds, and you let out a huge load of semen that fell directly into his mouth and face, squeezing until the last drop fell.

Irene's face was now a real mess. She had managed to swallow part of your cum, but other threads of semen fell near her eyes and part of her hair. She didn't mind at all, she was busy cleaning your cock now.

She got up a little later, walking until she stood behind you again, untying the knot that was imprisoning your hands. She took one of your hands and dragged you to another room in the suite, the bedroom with a huge bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she caught your attention again.

"Do you want to keep this job?"

Once again, you nodded your head.

"If you can make me have an orgasm, I'll pretend none of this ever happened, you understand?”

"Loud and clear."

You tried to hide your nervousness as best you could and mentally preparing yourself to give her the greatest effort of your life, your future depended on what happened in the next few minutes.

You took a few steps towards the direction where she was, she was imposing, she was scary, yes, but at the same time, you had a sensation running through your body that you had never experienced before, and you wanted to go until the end.

You bent your head straight to kiss his neck. She let out a sigh, a good sign, you deduced. You trailed kisses along his neck at the same time that your hands roamed her body.

"Not bad, but this is nothing out of this world."

You shouldn't rush, she was provoking you, you knew it. Make a mistake, and it will be over. However, you also knew how to play that game.

"Excuse my clumsiness, Mrs. Bae, my job consists of transporting suitcases, not to sexually satisfy clients, even so you seemed to have enjoyed my cock."

Your lips now kissed the part of her naked chest that was not covered by her dress.

"Even now you are still behaving like a reckless, shut the fuck up and take me off this damn dress…now."

She raised her arms, so the dress came out more comfortably, her black lace bra was still annoying, but with a deft movement it quickly disappeared as well, leaving you with the view of her naked tits.

Your mouth quickly acted as shelter for her boobs, drawing loud moans from Irene. Her hands traveled to the back of your head, pressing you closer against them.

"Just like that, fuck, work on these fucking little tits."

You sucked her boobs and licked her nipples, which at this point were really hard by the moves of your tongue. With every second that passed, Irene became more moldable under your touch.

At that moment, you took advantage of to move one of your hands to her lower zone, totally wet after the first session, you touched her pussy over her panties using circular movements.

"So fucking wet, Miss Bae." You said it with a superior tone.

"Told you to shut up." She was getting angry again.

"As you wish."

You replied and suddenly kissed her lips. Irene opened her eyes in surprise, but it didn't take long for her to respond to the kiss with even more energy, until both of you got separated to take a breath.

"It's funny, men are usually afraid of me, and I love to create that feeling in them, but it also makes them never dare to kiss me. I almost forgot how kisses felt." She said with a half-smile on her face, touching her swollen lips.

"In that case, let me help you remember."

You said, emboldened, kissing her again with passion, making her respond with the same lust and starting a battle of tongues inside your mouths. You lost your balance due to the fury of the kisses, and you fell on top of her when her back hit the bed.

When you separated from her again, you could see how her messy hair had fallen on her sweaty forehead and her cheeks were completely red, but you were surprised by her smile, this time it was a full formed and sincere smile.

"Show me what else can do that mouth of yours."

You kissed her lips again, a quick kiss this time, which was followed by another path of kisses all over her body until you reached her panties, you managed to take them off to finally see her naked pussy.

You kissed her thighs previously before sinking your face against her area, making her moan louder than ever. Your tongue moved fiercely against her pussy folds as Irene's screams filled the room.

"Don't stop, don't even dare to stop."

You were giving your best to make her feel good. Her moans, screams, and bad words only motivated you to continue doing this with more intensity. Having your tongue a rest, you quickly replaced it with your fingers, masturbating her with all your strength.

"Holy fuuuuuck, I’m cuming!" She screamed, curving her back and, once again, squirting a lot from her pussy, messing part of the edge of the bed and the bedroom floor.

She had now difficulty breathing correctly, and her chest was up and down again, trying to calm herself. Your fingers once again caressed her pussy, this time doing it so slowly. You approached to kiss her once again.

"Irene"

You called, so both of you noticed your penis fully recovered, ready for more rounds. She smiled at you, turning around, remaining face down, then you stared at her trained ass.

"Come on, what are you waiting for? Fuck me".

Your penis got excited hearing those words. You stood up immediately to stand behind her. Grabbing her hips and aligning yourself with her pussy, inserting your entire length at once into Irene's pussy.

"God, you're so tight." You moaned, starting to thrust into her.

"Yes, fuck, stretch my fucking pussy with your big cock."

"Holy shit, Mrs. Bae."

You increased your thrusts, making everything more and more primitive, to the point that your balls were colliding with her hips every time you buried your length inside her.

Irene couldn't stop moaning and screaming, grabbing the bedsheets with her hands while moving her hips to give more depth to your moves.

You didn't hesitate to grab one of her ass cheeks tightly with one of your hands and then give her a slap that echoed through the room and made the woman scream. You repeated it a few more times, having the same result.

"This is what you wanted, right? A witch like you just wanted to be fucked this hard."

One more spank to her already red ass, drove Irene crazy.

"Yes! Fuck yes, fuck me please! Don't stop now! Use my witch pussy however you want."

You kissed her neck from behind and ran your tongue down her back as your hips moved at a constant pace for a longer period of time.

"Wait." she said between moans. "I want to see you."

You took out your cock off her, allowing her to turn around, giving her another passionate kiss, you took her hips and brought her closer to the edge of the bed, sitting there, she opened her legs for you.

You entered inside her again, resuming your task of fucking her hard, Irene wrapped her arms around your head, moving a little on the bed, allowing you to fuck her deeper.

"So fucking deep." She sighs, closing her eyes.

When she opened them again, she met your eyes, making her blush a bit. You didn't ignore it and brought your lips closer to hers, touching them but not kissing her.

"Mrs. Bae, I'm about to cum." She took your face in her hands, smiling.

"Inside me, until the last drop… I need it."

That was the last thing you needed, Irene hugged you and in a last effort you fucked her harder than ever until you shot all your cum inside her pussy, making both of you reach an orgasm. Both of you really had made a mess.

Irene laid on the bed, still shaking, with one of her arms covering her face. You laid to next to her, looking directly at her.

"Don't worry, today is a safe day."

"That’s fine of course but wasn't my real concern."

Irene lowered her arm and stared at you for a few moments, her eyes widening as if she had forgotten the reason of this. He pretended to cough in an attempt to hide her mistake by sitting back on the bed.

"Yes, about that… You did your part, so I'll do mine, and I promise I won't say anything about what happened here."

Feeling a big relief at that moment, you didn't say anything more than "thank you" to get out of bed in search of your work clothes. You had a schedule to complete.

"I will stay here for a few days because of work."

You left your shirt half buttoned to watch as Irene leaned against the door frame, now wearing a bathrobe from the bathroom.

"Maybe you can offer me this special service again." Her mischievous smile made your face get one, too. "I am at your total disposal, Mrs. Bae."

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #red velvet smut #irene smut #smut

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forgettable-au · 17 days ago

Note

In a Deltarune au of THIS au, would the "little brother" in the house trousling bones be Papyrus or Wingdings?

Okay this is an old ask and I was gonna answer with some drawings but ...

I DON'T HAVE A DESIGN FOR WINGDINGS THERE!!!! SO!!! I CAN'T...

Still, I'll try to answer :D

YES, PRECISELY

I DO HAVE A DELTARUNE AU OF THIS AU

And in this AU of my AU, the reason why we don't see Papyrus or hear his name is because it's actually still Wingdings lmao

Turns out he didn't shatter across time and space here

I need to make a design so I can draw some of these ideas but, uh, I'll explain the basics quickly!

So! Wingdings and Sans are still twins, Sans just likes to be annoying and call 'Dings his younger brother (which is something that actually does happen in the main forgettable-au lmao)

They're a bit older (I just generally hc everyone in deltarune is a bit older than their undertale counterparts) and they just moved to hometown from the city! That's were they used to work! Before Wingdings got fired for unnamed reasons! Also, Wingdings is using a fake name "Roman" !

And yeah!

Wingdings and Sans are currently in the middle of a fight? They're not on the best terms, Wingdings didn't want to move to hometown and refuses to get out of the house

Wingdings is not doing great! He has no job, no friends, he just moved out of the city he didn't want to leave, and there's other stuff too!!

Sans isn't doing that great either but he's trying to do okay! He sees hometown as a new opportunity and a he's already making friends with the locals! He's trying to get Wingdings to do that as well, it's not working!

Why would Sans ask Kris to hang out with his brother, a grown man? I DON'T KNOW, BUT LIKE, THAT'S WEIRD EVEN WITH REGULAR PAPYRUS! (I know a lot of people think Paps will be a teenager in deltarune, but idk, that feels weird?? Why would Toby make so many characters older and then Papyrus younger??? It's still a possibility tho... and it would be interesting to see)

You know how in forgettable-au they both still use proper grammar before the incident? That doesn't work here (because Sans in deltarune is clearly using lowercase and I can't just change that), sooooo... they both use constant lowercase!

Or I could just ignore that one theory of uppercase and lowercase and accept it's probably just a stylistic choice....but I won't do that............

And yeah that's basically it! :D

Imagining this au of my au as a thing to happen in game is very funny, because if something like that actually happened I don't think the fandom would ever recover.... just imagine the chaos...

For anyone that might ask this:

Why would the voice at the start of the game react to us naming our character Papyrus if Papyrus isn't in the game?

My explanation for that is: Well, if theories are correct and that voice IS Gaster, he probably knows that we know Papyrus from playing undertale! He's acknowledging that... not the fact that Papyrus is in deltarune...but there might be someone similar we can meet, he knows who we expect

Okay that's it! That's the AU of my AU! I really want to make art for it

But I seriously have no idea how Wingdings would look...

I'm just...very bad at designing regular clothes.....

#the moment Papyrus deltarune appears this AU of my AU is gonna stop existing probably akdhskdj #the only reason why I made this version is because I couldn't stop thinking about how weird it is that Papyrus isn't mentioned by name.....#so I was like #“oh what if it was actually Wingdings”#and it all spiraled from there #I genuinely really like this au of my au #but like #it's not something I want to expand upon TOO much because #well #eventually we'll get the real Papyrus deltarune #and I don't want to get attached to Wingdings deltarune 😞#answered ask #forgettable-au-au #that's the tag I'll use for this version LMAOOO

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mxtantrights · 8 months ago

Text

Red Hood needs a dye job!

There are a list of people that know Jason is Red Hood. Bruce, Dick, Tim, Damian, Duke, Cass, Steph, Alfred, Roy, just to name a few. And they all know because they're his family and they work to serve justice in this city alongside him.

And after all those names on the list of people who know Jason is Red Hood, comes you.

You see, you wanted to follow your passion. Your passion being hair dressing. Which you followed all through cosmetology school. So you ended up working in a hair salon.

It's Gotham. You're closing one night and you're alone. But you've done it before. Nothing different. You make sure to shut the lights off, unplug the dryers, close the bathroom door, and bring down the gate.

What's waiting for you is not expected.

"Can I make an appointment?"

You yelp and turn around. There in all his dark and gloomy glory is Red Hood. He's standing taller than you, his arms crossed over his shoulders. Just looking right at you.

"What?" you ask.

"Can I make an appointment?" he asks again.

You look at him then. You can see it. The white tuft of hair peeking out from his hood. Huh. Red Hood has white hair.

Well you're not about to stop your self from getting a client. Rent is cheap but it's not that cheap.

"I'm sorry, how would that work? Does the mask stay on?"

Red Hood comes to you every other month for a dye job. He comes to your house, at 2am every second Tuesday. He knows the way up your fire escape and knows to send you a text before entering.

He sits at your kitchen sink. You prop him on a chair.

You lather on the black dye and let it sit. And when he's done, he leans back and lets you wash it out. The first time he came over he didn't let you style it at all.

But he's since then become more comfortable. He lets you put leave-in conditioner. He lets you style it with a brush and a dryer.

For all intents and purposes you are Red Hood's hair stylist. And no one knows that besides you and him.

#dc x reader #dc imagine #dc blurbs #dc #Jason todd x reader #Jason todd imagine #Jason todd blurbs #Jason todd

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ggidolsmuts · 9 months ago

Text

Fire in the Belly (and the Womb)

A/N: This follows up from the previous story Sins, Hormones, and the Starlet's Boyfriend

"Hey Yunjin, wow, that looks a little too breedable, hope it's not too cold." Yunjin's head snaps at the stylist's comment.

"What? What did you say?" she asks tersely.

"Huh? I said it looks breathable, like I hope it doesn't get too cold out there."

"Oh, got it, yeah, should be fine, sorry stylist-unnie." The stylist looks at her oddly, but just shakes her head and leaves.

"Yunjin, are you ok?" Sakura lays a concerned hand on her. "You seem off."

"Ah yeah, I'm fine." She was decidedly not fine. Yunjin is horny, and just like someone with horns, she snaps out at people unexpectedly. Her nights have been muted but wet, her moans muffled into the pillow to not disturb her members. Regrettably her own self-pleasure has been unsatisfying. No thanks to him! Nothing felt quite as good after her evening at Somi's place. They did work together on some songs after, but whenever she ran into him with Somi he was nothing but polite. Like a puppy he was devoted to Somi, checking in on her, leaving her little notes in her studio, and never sparing Yunjin anything but a courteous nod and greeting. It bugged her, not that she was jealous of Somi, more that she was envious of Somi, because she knows what he was capable of.

That he could be a wolf at Somi's wishes, and that he could tear Yunjin's clothes apart and eat Yunjin whole. That he would make her scream in pleasure, and she needed to scream in pleasure, to let loose right about yesterday. She can't do that in the dorms! A dildo is nice and all, and Yunjin has one or two that stretch her pretty well, but not with the force he could drive into her. There's also a fire in her belly, or rather, fire in her womb, and no dildo could satisfy her raw desire to have potent cum pumped straight into her. So with a hand drifting between her legs, she taps out a message to Somi.

*Hey Somi, really sorry to ask this, can I borrow your boyfriend for a night?*

*Like last time? sure, I could use a break after last week, when do you want him*

Yunjin let's out a muted moan at that thought—she can only imagine what the two of them have been up to, how hard does he go that the energetic Somi needs a break? And when does she want him? Oh god like a month ago! It takes all of her self-control to not type "ASAP" into her phone, and instead Yunjin settles for:

*Whenever's good for him*

Even with a date set, Yunjin still finds herself surprised, yelping when she sees him come through her dressing room door.

"Shh, unless you want everyone to know."

"What are you doing here?" She hugs him, a friendly greeting.

"Somi wanted me to give you a surprise." The greeting turns intimate, and Yunjin's body is suddenly flooded with heat as he pulls her flush against him. His hand is daring, and through the mirror behind him she watches his hand dip under her skirt, and then—

"Ohhhhh!" The loud moan leaks unbidden as he squeezes her ass firmly, palming her cheek over the safety shorts. Fuck now she wants to take the shorts off, to have him squeeze her ass directly, maybe spank it even. Unconsciously she pushes her hips back, wanting him to feel more of her ass. Very consciously he pushes her hips back to him, and there is a different kind of flooding as he presses his hardness against her.

"Not so loud, you really want to get caught don't you?" Yunjin doesn't want to get caught, but it feels so good to be touched, to be handled roughly like the way he was doing right now. "You're looking mighty breedable." This time Yunjin's sure she did not mishear. If anything, he would want her outfit to be completely breathable—naked, specifically. To her delight he unbuckles his pants, quickly revealing his stiffness.

Yes! He smiles into her neck and Yunjin freezes, did she say that out loud? There's no time to think though as he pushes her down slightly, and Yunjin's mind goes blank, feeling his shaft even through the layer of her safety shorts. She buries her face in his chest, muffling her moans as he rubs his cock between her legs—she helps him by grinding down on it, as if she's trying to split her lips over his tool.

"Close your thighs." Yunjin follows his request immediately, and the two of them breathe a little heavier as skin meets skin, her smooth thighs rubbing against his raw hardness. He begins to move, thrusting slowly between her thighs and rubbing against her pussy, and the memories of their previous encounter come easily to mind. A large hand squeezes her butt again, and his fingers dig deep into her flesh, sinfully tracing between her cheeks. Yunjin's reminded of the way he grabbed Somi's ass last time, and intrusive thoughts start coming in, her mind going wild as she imagines how they fuck, influenced by the bits and pieces she hears from Somi.

I could use a break after last week

First thing he does coming home is to jump me

He just explodes in you

"Nngh fuck..." This was just supposed to be a little surprise tease, but Yunjin's so deprived that even this is enough to have her hurtling towards an orgasm. A playful smack on her ass, and Yunjin's world goes white. She bites her lower lip hard as she suppresses a squeal, legs going weak as she reaches a relieving climax. When she recovers her forehead is pressed against his chest, and looking down she can see his shaft shining a little, covered in her own slick, rubbing her pussy to extend her pleasure. It's hypnotizing, and Yunjin can't take it anymore.

"You can p-put it in..." she whispers.

"No, not today." Her whine when he pulls away is utterly depraved, watching him put his erection back in his pants. "Today's just a surprise."

"You didn't finish yet!" She wants to help him finish, she wants him. "Let me—" Yunjin drops to her knees, eager to take him in her mouth, but to her shock he resists, taking one more step away from her.

"Nuh-uh, today's loads are for Somi. I'll see you next time." He pats her head, and a stunned Yunjin remains on her knees as the door closes behind him.

Today's... loads? Multiple? For Somi? Somehow, despite her orgasm, Yunjin is even more aroused than before. Yunjin quickly stands up before anyone comes in and sees her kneeling on the ground, but as she does she realizes she has another problem—how is she going to explain why her safety shorts are soaked through?

"Fuck me..." she utters to herself.

The day arrives, but it is with simmering frustration that Yunjin waits in the hotel room, thighs crossing and uncrossing as she awaits his arrival. She checks her phone constantly—he's late, and yet no message! Surely he didn't forget? Or did he get the day wrong? Or did he skip out on her? Maybe he just thought "Eh, pass." The mere contemplation of the last thought sends Yunjin into indignant anxiety—how could he turn her down! Did he not have a good time last time? Should she have insisted on giving him a blowjob right then?

It is with such thoughts that Yunjin opens the door when he finally arrives, her expression prompting him to ask a patently absurd question.

"Is now not a good time? Should we reschedule?" As if Yunjin could reschedule her need to get fucked!

"No." She pulls him in and slams the door behind him. "You're late."

"By..." He checks his phone. "8 minutes? I just missed the train and had to wait for the next. What's wrong?" Yunjin's self-inflicted dourness lightens as she watches him remove his coat, the mere sight of him taking off clothing reawakening her arousal.

"N-Nothing, just frustrated, sorry."

"Well, that's what I'm here for." Any doubts she had about him or herself go out the window as he hugs her like last time, kissing her demandingly. His fingers run through her hair, his other hand firm around her waist—one strokes her hair, the other strokes her lower back. It is almost sweet, like the last time they had sex, but Yunjin's too horny for that.

"I need you to fuck me roughly," she breathes into his ear, and the stroking pauses.

"Roughly?"

"Last time, the way you fuck Somi, you said there was the intimate way and the—"

"The rough way, yes I remember." His expression hardens slightly, as if preparing to be rough with her, and Yunjin gets wetter. A thrill goes down her spine when he opens his mouth again. "What's your safeword?"

Safeword, oh my god, just how rough do they get?! Yunjin buys herself some time, trying not to think about how rough he and Somi get. "Do you and Somi have a safeword?"

"We did."

"Did?"

"We learnt our limits over time, and we eventually stopped using it." Yunjin isn't scared, but she also worries about biting off more than she can chew, or take, in this case. Nevertheless she bluffs, unimpressed by her own behavior earlier.

"No safeword for me then either, no limits, I can take it." He stares at her, and Yunjin stares back, willing herself to hold his gaze. He is the first to blink, and he clears his throat.

"Let's pick up from where we left off then, I want to use your mouth." He leisurely removes his pants, and Yunjin drops to her knees once more, eager to finally get started. He is in her hands, hard and ready, all for her! She tries to bring her head to his, but is stopped by a hand on her scalp.

"Ah ah, I want to use your mouth, not receive a blowjob. Get on the bed." His tone is commanding, and Yunjin doesn't dare protest. He pulls her to the edge of the bed, her head hanging off the side. "Open." The blood is beginning to rush to Yunjin's head, and she has no stray thoughts, her mouth hanging open upside down.

"Ggllhk, mmph!" It is the first time she takes him in the mouth, and his length seems monstrous in size, filling her oral cavity, and pushing into her throat.

"Breathe through your nose," is the reminder and the order, and Yunjin complies, breathing in oxygen mixed with his musk—intoxicating. "Relax your throat." Deeper he goes, and Yunjin has to strain a little to allow him to push on further. On and on, until his sack taps against her nose and upper lip.

Today's loads, all for me! is the only thought in her head.

"Good?" He asks. Yunjin dangles an arm behind her, feeling his muscular ass and squeezing it, trying to push him forward.

I'm perfect. "Ghhk!" Panic takes over Yunjin when she feels a hand on her throat, giving her a slight squeeze.

"Relax, trust me, let me take over, let me do the work." She breathes deeply through her nose, trying her best to relax her body. "Good girl." Rhythmically the fingers on her throat tense and slack, moving back and forth on her neck. His hips move slightly too—not quite thrusting, just enough for some friction. "Such a nice fucking cocksleeve."

The thought should have incensed Yunjin—her throat, her instrument as Le Sserafim's vocalist, now used as nothing but a fleshlight, a mere instrument of pleasure. Yet as he throbs inside her neck the idea only served to turn her on, to heighten her arousal. He wanted to use her mouth, and by God he was using all of her mouth. Her hands drift to her own body, diving beneath her shorts and between her spread legs. She moans as she touches her lips—she's soaked! However, Yunjin is swiftly admonished, the grip around her throat tightening.

"Not your turn yet." He grabs her arm, pulling it back towards her neck. "Stroke me." He plants a knee on the bed, pushing even deeper, as if trying to fits his balls into her mouth as well. Yunjin is made to choke herself, her own hand grabbing her neck. She feels his thickness inside her throat, coughing a little as it throbs. She runs a hand up and down her neck, smearing her own juices across her skin. "That's it, fuck that's good!" Liquid trickles down Yunjin's face, messing up her makeup—not tears, but her own drool, flowing the wrong way down her face. Everything about this is wrong, why is she choking herself? Why is she letting him pin her head against the bed, why is he dunking his balls into her face?

Why does it feel so good?

When his orgasm happens Yunjin feels it more than tastes it—the jump of his cock, tip hitting the walls of her throat, and then the burst of gooey warmth against it. His hand goes back to her neck, squeezing it like he's gripping his cock, milking it for every drop. Yunjin trembles beneath him, beginning to run out of oxygen as he continues to spurt. The saltiness hits her tongue as he pulls out, the last remnants of his peak glazing across her lips and nose.

"Now it's your turn. Let's make you squirt."

"I'm— Haah, don't, mmm! Squirt." He doesn't give Yunjin anytime to breathe, leaning over her, and plunging his fingers between her legs. There is an audible thump as Yunjin bumps her head against the edge of the bed, her body arching against him at the penetration—it has been too long! She opens her eyes when she realizes he's not moving, two fingers deep inside her keeping her stretched and full, but no friction, no pleasure. His face is at her hips, and he's looking back down her body, smiling back at her.

"You will."

"Mmm..." Yunjin lets her head dangle off the edge of the bed again as he starts moving, massaging her pussy from the inside. Maybe she's just incredibly aroused, but he seems to know just how to touch her, and the hot pleasure going through her body quickly becomes a boil. "Fuck yes, just like that!" She just needed that little bit more!

Then she feels it.

"Oh my god!" Her eyes open in surprise when he presses down on her abdomen, right over where his fingers are inside her. Together the set of hands seem to pin her g-spot in place, and he just works his fingertips against her weakness, prodding and rubbing at it incessantly. It's like he knows her body better than she does. Like he owns it! is the last thought before she blanks out.

"Oh fuck... FUCK ME!" Yunjin screams and grabs at his thighs, fingers digging into his flesh as she squirts for the first time, soaking her clothes like never before. She's too blissed out to even notice his hard-again cock bouncing against her face as she cries and shouts, smearing her pretty face with more leftover semen and newly made precum. When she comes to her head is lying on the bed, and he's caressing her cheek, or so she thought.

"Clean." He brings his fingers to her mouth, and Yunjin dutifully sucks them clean. "Do we taste good?" It takes a moment to process the taste—he had wiped her face with his hand, and his fingers were coated in her juices and his cum! The worst part is, they tasted good together, and Yunjin couldn't wait for their fluids to mix... Elsewhere.

He takes off the rest of his clothes, and Yunjin follows suit, peeling off her now sweaty and wet pieces. As soon as she does he's on her, and Yunjin finds herself facing the wrong way on her hands and knees. The breath is pushed out of her as she is unceremoniously filled. Is this what Somi means by being jumped, that he just turns her around and sinks into her? Does he also use Somi's throat like he did earlier—two of K-Pop's hottest starlets, and their throats and pussies are just wrapped around his cock like toys?

"Nngh... Fuck!" Yunjin doesn't have much more time to think about what he does with Somi as pleasure shoots through her body while he does her. Her cheeks clap loudly against his hips, his hands branding her milky skin with how tightly he's holding her.

"Such a tight fucking body!" he hisses, and Yunjin clenches around him in response, both from the praise and her desire to please him further. Each thrust jolts her senses, and Yunjin is slowly overwhelmed by the pleasure, her arms and legs going weak trying to prop her body up. He soon renders that unnecessary though by grabbing her wrists and yanking them back, pulling her upper body off the bed. He gathers her wrists behind her back, and with one hand holding them there Yunjin is powerless to do anything.

"God deeper, h-harder!" Her arms are his reins as he rides her to one orgasm, and then another, like a stallion riding its mare. With her hands occupied there's no stifling her loud moans or cries of pleasure that fill the room, and as loud as she gets on Le Sserafim content, Yunjin is arguably even louder in bed. "Fuck I'm cumming! Oh fuck don't stop, please don't stop! F-Faster, more please— Oh my— Mmmmm!" Yunjin's tongue loosens as she finally gets the fuck she's been waiting for for a long time, and she's saying anything that comes to mind, shamelessly telling him how she wants to be plugged—faster, harder, deeper! She's fucked into another "hands-free" orgasm before he lets go, dropping her head to the bed. She finds herself in an even more compromising position when her mind is no longer blank with pleasure—he's still holding her by her hands, but now he's pulled them from beneath her body and between her legs, using it as a sling to hold her hips up.

"Ah..." Yunjin gasps breathlessly as he starts thrusting again. She tries to squirm and turn her head, to lift herself off the bed with pure core strength, but he simply pulls on her arms, forcing her head back to the bed with the see-saw action. She could touch her clit in the position, and Yunjin does so, adding a familiar pleasure to the more foreign pleasure of being fucked so thoroughly.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asks when Yunjin recovers from another orgasm, and she can only whimper and nod, rubbing her face on the bedsheet. "Do you want me to get rougher?" She nods again, and in short order he has her screaming—he plants a foot on the bed and grabs her by the hips, and the new position allows him to fuck her even more powerfully at an even better angle. Yunjin was getting fucked earlier, now she's just getting dicked down and loving it.

"Nnnngh! Oh my god, oh my god!" She has to bite the sheets in both pain and pleasure—her throat is sore from the "blowjob" earlier, her arms are sore from his yanking and pulling, and without a doubt her pussy is going to be sore with how hard he's going to town on her, but Yunjin would not have it any other way. Her head spins as a large hand pushes her deeper into the bed, and then—

Without any warning beyond a grunt, he simply sinks his cock all the way into her and explodes, filling her womb with potent DNA shrapnel. Each send of his hips sends even more cum into her, claiming more and more of Yunjin's pussy. She can only moan when she feels liquid trailing down her thighs—he's overflowing out of her!

"Y-You came so much..." Yunjin gasps, but he isn't remotely done with her. She finds herself on her back, and her fingers in her own pussy as he pushes them in.

"Clean yourself out before I fuck you again."

"W-What?! W-Wait!" Yunjin whimpers in overstimulation as four fingers are shoved into her, digging his load out from inside. Through thick and thin fingers does his load spill out from her, and the flow does not cease—so copious and thick is his seed that she finds herself on the verge of climax again just trying to get all of it out. "W-Why do you need to get it out? Nngh!"

"I don't want any sloppy seconds."

But it's your cum! Yunjin wants to cry out, yet it comes out as a wordless shout when he makes her clench again in orgasm, both his and her fingers fucking her roughly, forcing Yunjin to push his load out. What an image she makes right now—she lays sprawled out on the bed, fingers plunged deep in her own cum-filled snatch. It's no wonder he's hard again by the time Yunjin manages to piece a thought together. He rubs his tip against her messy and gooey entrance, and to Yunjin's shock he aims below her slit, lifting her legs slightly.

"I'm going to fuck your ass." A chill runs down her spine—whatever she had been looking for from him, it definitely wasn't that.

"N-No wait, not there!" Without responding he brings two fingers to her slit, gathering her slick and his cum before smearing it around her puckered ring. "Please, not there, I don't want it there!"

"What's your safeword then?" Her blood runs cold when she realizes her folly—she told him she didn't need one, and told him there were no limits! And now he's lubing her up, spreading her cheeks!

"No, please don't!" No no no no no no no! But he is unbudging, ignoring her pleas and making a show of prepping his thrusts. Once, then a second time does his cock seem to bump around her ass, as if "missing" his target. He makes a show of pulling his hips back, and Yunjin braces for losing her anal cherry—she could have pushed him off, or kicked him away earlier, but with his hands pinning her arms down her mind is going blank, and her hands grip the sheets, eyes tightly shut as she prepares for the pain. She can only manage one final whimper.

"Please—"

His cock sheathes inside her pussy with a smooth thrust, and for the first time ever Yunjin cums on the initial penetration. The relief and sudden pleasure instead of pain mix blissfully in Yunjin's head, and her legs wrap around his hips as she cums, locking him in, afraid he would actually take her ass if he pulls out again.

"And that's why we have safewords." He whispers in her ear, nibbling on her ear lobe and earning himself a whimper of "You're right." He unwraps Yunjin's legs from behind him and puts her in a mating press, hooking her knees with his elbows. Regardless of the position he chooses Yunjin is powerless, limp with pleasure as he begins plowing her again, stretching her sore pussy even more. For a brief moment Yunjin watches him, his hair mess and ruffled, wolfish...

Wolfish?

She's reminded of the fanfics she's read on her lonely nights, about alphas and omegas. She has no idea if he's ever read anything like that, or even aware of that concept, but he sure is fucking her like an alpha, and for her part, from the way she's yelping, she might as well be an omega in heat, her pussy molded in the shape of his cock. He kisses her, tongue demanding Yunjin's own tongue in return. The kiss is so intense, so ferocious, that Yunjin's head begins to spin, beginning to run out of breath. To the kiss he adds an unexpected move—with a hand he pinches Yunjin's nose, and between his kiss, the pinch, and the absolute pounding he's still able to give her, she starts to panic once more, quickly running out of oxygen, each jolt of her body unable to give her the air she needs.

"Mm, mm!" She grabs his shoulder, trying to tap him weakly, but her grip is loosening by the second, her consciousness fading. Her eyes open, and he has a lupine grin on his face—he might actually fuck her to death. He pulls away and says something, but she can only read his lips before she combusts.

Cum.

Yunjin's eyes roll into her head, the chemicals rushing her brain as oxygen flows back into her lungs. Yet again the mix of relief and pleasure is intoxicating, and her mouth hangs open, silently screaming as she squirts around him again. She jerks uselessly below him, her pussy contracting around his cock her only grip on reality anymore. Her limbs feel like jelly, and she has to whine and whimper to get him to throw her arms around his neck and hug her. Between the choking, the squirting, the threat of anal, and then the simultaneous kissing and choking and squirting she just went through earlier, Yunjin's brain is mush, intrusive thoughts entering and taking root. As far as she is concerned he is her alpha, and her lizard brain submits to him—if he wanted to take her ass now she wouldn't say no. But Yunjin wants something more.

"What is it?" his growl cuts through her orgasm-induced brain fog.

"Huh?"

"You've been mumbling, not moaning, spit it out." He thrusts harder, and Yunjin placates him by moaning—even now she doesn't want to reveal the depths to which her desires have descended to. The resistance is token though, and if her alpha wants to hear her needs, she would tell him. He asks her with his body, cock plunging in and out of her roughly; he actually wants to just hear her moan more, but Yunjin's omega-twisted mind treats it as delightful punishment, as if trying to make her speak, and the words begin tumbling out of her mouth.

"B-Breed... Breed me, please breed me." She finds his gaze, her eyes round and dilated, clouded with submissive lust. "Breed me like you own me." He slows down, and Yunjin immediately panics. "No, keep going, don't stop! Don't stop!"

"Say it again," he snarls, his voice low and dangerous. Yunjin does what her alpha wants.

"Breed me."

"The full thing, all of it." His next thrust is harder, and he pushes Yunjin's legs even further back, her ankles now near her ears. Later she would reflect on how she's normally not this flexible, but if he can fuck the kinks into her, maybe he's fucking the flexibility into her as well.

"Breed me like I belong to you."

"Louder!"

"Breed me like I'm your BITCH!" The last word is a shriek as he thumps solidly against her cervix. Yunjin's alpha leans over her, allowing him to pound straight down into her creamy warmth. Her ankles hook around his neck as Yunjin's folded in half, and she screams out in delirious joy at being ferociously, if not brutally, mated. Over and over he slams straight down into her, until he latches his mouth to her neck and sucks on her skin hard, marking her while he pumps her full of seed. The warm explosion rips through her womb and goes straight to her feral brain, and Yunjin cums with him one final time, scratching deep red lines on his arms and back, all while shredding her vocal cords as she lets loose her loudest cry yet.

"YES YES YES YESSSSS!"

The silence after is deafening, and Yunjin's world goes fuzzy and fades to black.

She wakes up late next morning, her body blissfully sore from the night before. Every muscle in her body felt like it was on fire, but the fire in her belly had been quenched, and Yunjin nestles into the bed a little bit more until reality finally calls in the form of her manager looking for her. She comes up with a flimsy excuse, but she knows she has to get up. Disappointingly Somi's boyfriend is nowhere to be found, and after Yunjin showers and dresses again, groaning the whole time in soreness, she finds what he left her on the desk.

I hope I was of help to you. I greatly enjoyed last night, and hope you did too.

P.S. Just in case

Where the hell did Somi find a guy like that? Yunjin thinks to herself. How can he be so polite, so considerate (Her clothes were folded in a neat pile on the couch!) after fucking her brains out last night? Regardless Yunjin feels a small amount of pride, knowing that he had enjoyed last night too. She also finds the morning-after pills he had left next to the note. Intrusive thoughts from last night still linger in her head—unbeknownst to him, the date he had picked, last night, was actually one of her more fertile days, and a primal part of her wants to flush the pills down the toilet and let things take their natural course, to let her alpha breed her. Yunjin's hand travels to her neck, feeling where he had shoved his cock down her throat and then choked her... God even that mere thought is enough to warm her body, and her hand drifts down her belly.

But no, it's a new day, and Yunjin claps her hands to her face, trying to clear her head. She takes the pills and washes it down with a glass of water. And with that, the fire in her womb is satiated.

For now.

A/N: Le Sserafim's song titles are too fun to play around with lol, they all can be made to sound kinda dirty XD So have more of Yunjin, thanks for reading!

#smut #huh yunjin #le sserafim

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thisismeracing · 11 months ago

Text

Heartdresser | LH44

― Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x braider!reader ― Warning: mentions of a brother, social media au mixed with regular writing, tooth-rotting fluff, fem!reader (she/her); - 2.8k words + social media setting. ― Summary: When Lewis finds himself just a couple days away from a racing weekend and without his usual braids he desperately searches for suggestions of available hairdressers in the area. As the saying goes, love can come from the most unexpected places, and Lewis is about to discover that this is, in fact, true. (based on this request)

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Being a Formula One Driver had its perks, from obvious and big things such as traveling everywhere to not-so-obvious and small things like having your hair stylist travel to you when you needed them. After becoming an adult and famous, it took Lewis a couple of years to come to terms with his hair, how to style it, how to take care of it, and how to embrace the texture and volume. He felt finally whole when he reached that point, one where meaningless comments on the internet wouldn’t make him rethink his path, goals, and achievements. Of course, comments hurt, but being comfortable with yourself helped, and that was something Lewis learned.

Now, his braids were part of him. The hairstyle being associated with his image in the blink of an eye. Something that made him feel handsome, and connected with his roots. Something that seemed to help other young black boys around, who started to see themselves as stylish and handsome too.

That’s the main reason why he was so frustrated when his braider called him to tell them they couldn’t make it to Las Vegas. And the thing with braids is that it's not only a style that connects you to your roots, and makes you feel comfortable, it is also a hair protection style. Though Lewis doesn’t tell people he has superstitions and somehow it is true, part of him feels like he races better when he’s feeling himself in all senses of the word. This means having his hair in the braids he’s been looking forward to for over two weeks is something important to him.

So in the heat of the moment, he decides to look for help on Twitter.

“Hi, you must be Lewis,” you smile, extending your hands, and the man in front of you takes it in with a grin.

“Hey, good afternoon,” his grip is still thigh yet soft on your hand. “Yeah, it’s me. Thank you for having me on such short notice.” He’s handsome and polite in all the ways one should be to be considered perfect, and you start to understand why your baby brother was drawn to admire his persona outside the tracks.

You shake your head with a chuckle, “It was actually my day off, but I had no problem fitting you in since it meant Dee would get to meet you.”

“Oh- honesty is something I find hot,” he chuckles and adds a grin for good measure, all while looking straight into your eyes and you can’t help but laugh.

Add funny to the list of things Lewis Hamilton seems to be.

“Who’s Dee, by the way?”

“It’s Aiyden, my little brother. I call him Dee,” you explain before adding, “He’s finishing a Chemistry project with a few friends at school. He was tempted to skip but gave up after a pep talk on how school is important, and I would take forever doing your hair just so he could see you.”

Lewis nods while you explain, and then he’s chuckling just like minutes ago.

“I don’t mind waiting for him with you,” he winks.

You’re not sure if he’s being friendly, funny, or flirty, but any of these F words coming from the black guy in front of you are surely making your heart skip a beat.

“You can sit here while I grab everything,” you point to a chair in front of a big mirror and Lewis does as said.

“Your hair looks fire,” he comments, watching from the mirror while you go through the small saloon gathering the packs of hair and combs you would need. “Did you do it yourself?”

“Thanks,” you stop just for a second, smiling when your eyes meet. “And yeah, I did it just last weekend.”

“You look even more stunning with this style,” and just like that he has you giggling again. “I mean it. I saw your profile picture and I was convinced you couldn’t get more beautiful, and then you opened that door with a smile and these amazing braids and I was like wow.” “You’re a funny one.”

“I’ve heard some women like their man funny, is that your case? If so, I’m ready to get into stand-up comedy.”

You double with laughter, shaking your head and biting your lips to keep the funny noises inside.

“Same style you’ve sent me the picture?” Lewis nods. “Any addition or preference?” you ask, starting to section his hair, and he answers no while making himself comfortable on the chair.

And even though you joked about taking forever just so your brother would catch Lewis, you ended up really taking forever because the driver in front of you would joke around and give you flirty comments and you couldn’t help but stop to laugh. The style he wanted was fairly fast, and his curls weren’t that thick, but still, you two did a small snack break when he ordered from a vegan bakery downtown. He was a fun guy to talk to, you came to learn that pretty quickly, which only added to his face card, which certainly was never denied.

It was one of the best sessions you’ve had in a long time.

You were just finishing the final touches, adding water to boil, and cutting the small strands coming off the braids, when the bell over the door rang, announcing your little brother’s arrival. He has an incredulous expression on his face watching his idol sitting on the chair of his sister’s salon.

“Hey man, how was the chem’s project?” Lewis asks and Aiyden turns around to the door, doing a small victory dance and, probably, the most hideous expressions to conceal his eagerness and happiness.

You and Lewis laugh.

“Omg, hi, Lewis!” He finally walks to you, shaking hands with Lewis. His eyes – big orbs gleaming with excitement.

“Aren’t you gonna say hi to your sister, young man?” with your hands on your waist you furrow your brows in the direction of the curly-haired boy who smiles, engulfing your body in a big hug. You hug him back before tapping his back and fake complaining about how he was crushing you.

Aiyden had just turned fifteen, but his love for sports seemed to help him defy your DNA and grow more than your family’s average size. He was almost reaching your height, and he sure was stronger than you, but he was still just your baby boy.

“These new braids are lit, man! Told ya my sister would make it happen,” Ayiden, who still has one of his arms around your shoulders, tells Lewis with a proud smile.

The driver moves his head confidently checking his hair in the mirror, “She was a great braider, and even better company, to be honest.”

Yn rolls her eyes playfully before going back to the water and mentioning for Ayiden to take a step back. She dips the ends of the braids into the water, waiting for a bit before taking them off and draping a towel around Lewis’ broad shoulders.

“So, your sister mentioned a chem school project. How was it?”

And just like that Ayiden and Lewis are talking non-stop while you tidy the salon, watching their interaction with a fond smile. The Brit was attentive to your brother, always ready to listen rather than speak, always engaging, and making Ayiden feel comfortable to share whatever he wanted to.

He probably had no idea, but that was an easy way to get to your heart. Ayiden was your treasure, and the fact that Lewis was treating the boy as if he was his little treasure too only added to the list of things you found amazing about him.

“...right, Yn?” Dee asked and you snapped out of your daydream.

“What?”

“Lewis just invited us to the Vegas GP, I said we were going, right? Please, please, please,” he pleaded in front of you with his two hands together as if in prayer, and you bit the inside of your mouth.

“Sunday?”

“No, the whole package, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday!” he explained excitedly.

“It will be fun, c’mon,” Lewis tried.

“You have school on Friday.” You reasoned, but Ayiden was quick to explain that Friday wouldn’t be until 6 pm. “You’re the one asking Kali to get my appointments from Saturday,” pointing a finger to your brother you accepted, knowing that your friend and coworker, had a space on Saturday for a hair or two and wouldn’t mind covering so your clients wouldn’t be hanging out to dry. Still, she would probably huff and yapp before accepting. That was something that Ayiden would now deal with though, so you were all good.

Ayiden jumped up and down the same way he did when he was ten years old asking you to get him a new pair of soccer jerseys, and you accepted. It was endearing.

You talked for a few more minutes, Ayiden got his picture, and just like that Lewis was saying his farewells. This time he didn’t shake your hands, rather hugged you and you couldn’t help but breathe in his scent and relish his warmth.

“See you on Friday, guys,” he waved, showing off his perfect set of teeth.

“See you, man!”

yourinstagram

liked by lewishamilton, youngdee, and others

yourinstagram had to drive the kiddo to school today or else he would stay home choosing his weekend outfits lol (traffic is a bitch btw, so if you can avoid downtown, pls do!)

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youngdee why would you expose me like that

⤷ yourinstagram I'm your older sister, ofc I'm gonna act like a mom ❤️😘

lewishamilton nice fit, ayideen!

⤷ youngdee thank you, man! 😎

⤷ fan4490 OMG KJSDKGJSKG

charleslechair she looks so cute

⤷ charleslechair scratch that I just went through her pics

⤷ charleslechair she's hot

⤷ charleslechair and super talented

wolffmickey so its confirmed, she's the braider?

schumachinho *on my knees begging* pls, do my hair too, yn, pls pls 🧎🏾‍♀️🧎🏾‍♀️

yourfriend I spent an hour on traffic today in a road that usually takes me about ten minutes 🫠

yourfriend2 bruh, ayideen is getting bigger and bigger, I feel OLD 😭

Friday rolled around quickly and you got to watch the total amount of fifteen minutes of practice 1 before all hell broke. Ayiden explained everything to you along with the whole controversy going on with the LA Gran Prix, which you were just a tad aware of. Lewis wasn’t able to spend much time with you guys that much was expected, but whenever he found a few seconds he would pass by, ask if you guys were ok, if Dee was having fun if there was something he could do, and just overall being the goofy Lewis he was during the appointment. Ayiden seemed to find the flirtatious glances and lines funny, and so did you, except this time it felt a little more real because you were sure a few people around overheard some.

It was an amazing night, you made friends with a couple of people from the crew, and Ayiden had the time of his life meeting a few other idols, and almost started hyperventilating when Hamilton told him he would take him to meet Charles Leclerc on Sunday.

Saturday was even more of a rush, you almost didn’t see Lewis, but he texted before and after quali. So when Sunday came you were still trying to navigate the whole paddock thing, but a bit more comfortable about it. Aiyden was still acting as if it was his own version of Disney land and it was his first day discovering the adventure world. You were loving it for him, of course.

“Nice outfit,” Lewis whispers right beside you, catching you off guard and making you jump in surprise. You were in a corner, just texting a friend, and checking your next few appointments while Ayiden went to meet Charles and you thought Lewis would be there until he came back, but it wasn’t the case.

“You’re sneaky,” you chuckled, straightening your instance and looking into his face only to notice he was already staring at you.

“You look cute when you’re focused,” he winks, before adding, “and when you’re scared too.”

“You look cute when you joke like this,” throwing back at him you didn’t expect for his brows to furrow in confusion.

“You think I’m joking?”

“Aren’t you?”

Lewis giggles. He giggles and you can’t help but smile with the sound and the way his lips part while his eyes squint. “I’m not.”

“You’re not?!”

“I think you’re pretty and smart, and talented. I was genuinely flirting with you,” his explanation makes your insides turn in giddiness, and as if it wasn’t enough Lewis smiles, eyes glued on yours before he asks: “Wanna go on a date with me?”

“A date?” You repeat trying to let the idea sink.

“A date?” This time it’s Ayiden’s voice and you turn alarmed, expecting to see a confused and jealous brother, only to find him with the biggest grin ever.

“Yeah, a date,” Lewis smiles briefly to Ayiden, before staring back at you, waiting for your answer.

You blink still unsure. Fair enough, he was hot, educated, smart, and he checked all the boxes, but that wasn’t any guarantee of a successful relationship, or fling, or whatever he had in mind. And also, his lifestyle wasn’t something you were used to. How would dating him work when he’s often traveling around to drive?

“C’mon, don’t overthink it, Yn.” Ayiden comes to help, standing beside Lewis and the Brit chuckles. “It’s THE SIR Lewis Hamilton,” he points, and this time Lewis laughs.

You bit your lips, not helping but letting a smile escape.

Lewis is in front of you, hands in his pockets, big brown eyes watching you, and the smallest smile gracing the corner of his plump lips. He looked great. And as much as you wanted to deny, there was a vibe going on.

You take a deep breath, smirking at him, “Get yourself a podium and we’ll talk about a date later.”

Ayiden’s eyes widened.

“Did you forget how quali went?! It’s gonna be hell to get a podium, almost impossible,” your brother tries to reason, but Lewis shakes his head, extending his hand to which you clasp in yours.

“Deal,” the driver smiles. “I’ll get you a podium.”

Lewis squeezes Ayiden’s shoulder and winks at you before disappearing into the garage to get ready for the race.

“One more reason why he’s the goat, see? If I were you I would go on a date with him even if he didn’t get a podium.”

You laugh, “For the few things I saw, he likes the challenge. Let me indulge him.”

“You’re crazy.”

“And he’ll get a podium.”

“It’s very unlikely, but I won’t deny the possibility. It’s Lewis after all.” Your brother leans on the wall beside you. “And it looks like he wants this date bad.”

“What makes you think this?”

“C’mon, he’s been flirting with you nonstop since the hair appointment.”

“I genuinely thought he was joking.”

“You can be so clueless sometimes,” your brother rolls his eyes playfully and you slap the back of his head.

“Watch it, young man, I’m still the oldest.”

And you were still right too, because hours later Lewis impressed everyone by getting third place. He kept everyone on the edge of their seats along with Charles who did a brilliant race, and just like that your brother was grinning devilishly your way because now you had a date with no one other than Lewis Hamilton who happened to walk into the garage just as you were handling a water bottle to Dee after he ran to watch the ceremony as if his life depended on it.

Lewis was smiling brightly at you, sweat mixed with champagne, but you couldn’t help but grin right back and lace your arms around him, taking him by surprise.

“I’m all sweaty, sorry,” he whispers, his tattooed hand flatting on your bag and bringing your body closer.

“It’s fine. Congrats on the race.”

“Congrats on the race, man!” Ayiden hugs him too and Lewis smiles, eyes still trapped on you. When your brother lets him go and stays rooted in place looking from you to Lewis you trap the laugh inside, and roll your eyes fakely, pointing for the young boy to give you both some privacy.

“So, looks like I scored myself a date, huh?”

You nod, taking a small step in his direction and trying to keep your hands from tracing all the small details on his face from this up close, “You sure did.” Your eyes were now on his lips, and Lewis grinned.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You already have a date, what else do you wanna ask me?” You’re teasing and he knows it because this time he’s the one to take a step in your direction. The tips of your shoes are touching, and you can hear the rustling outside, but it’s just you two in the corridor, and you hope it stays like this for just a little longer even though you knew he had an interview in a few minutes. His company and attention are something you enjoyed having.

“With how many dates do you find it ok to kiss someone?” His playful tone is there, but his expression makes your knees almost buck. “Can we count practice, quali, and the race as dates?”

And just like that he has you laughing and grabbing his neck to close the distance and smash your lips in a very much-awaited kiss.

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