#he wants me to get like a boss / manager position ....

[i-am-become-a-name]

What's your interpretation of the weird/annoyed look Five gets on his face when Tegan announces that she wants to rejoin the TARDIS at the end of Arc of Infinity? I know it was probably meant to be played for laughs, but it annoys me every time i watch that episode and i'm curious what headcanons people have about it.

My favourite thing I've read about it pointed out that the cybermen specifically used Tegan as a weakness against five, that she's what it took to manipulate him (and through no fault of either of them, Adric's death was part of those consequences.) The novelisation really goes in to the descriptions of the doctor transfixed with the blood running down Tegan's chin from her bitten lip, the building tension as the cybermen get closer and closer to killing her and he's shaking trying to hold himself back from admitting his hearts are so easy to twist, just by threatening his friends. (Does Nyssa ever leave the TARDIS when it's on the spaceship? The cybermen don't even know she exists til they come onboard do they?)

As for why he looks so annoyed? hmmm. Does anyone want someone around that constantly needles them? Really, I think pre Arc of Infinity that even though Tegan had chosen to stay, they still had that power imbalance or even just tension between them that she had not come on board willingly. So five is expecting that to be the continuing, I don't know, continuing manner between them and it hadn't been good. It had its moments (mainly in the audios) but as an arrangement it was not ideal as friends to explore the universe together, all that terrible beauty and awesome monsters.

But it doesn't continue on in that manner - oh they bicker and make faces at each other, sure, but Tegan's conscious decision to step back onto the TARDIS irons out those imbalances, removes that bitterness and the past of her aunt's death. So when he makes that wee face, it's in expectation of the previous status quo. And never let it be said that Tegan's one to do exactly what's expected of her.

Anyway I really hope this makes sense and I may add some more thoughts later but it's 1:50 am Christmas Eve and I couldn't sleep for thinking about this.

----

It's 2am I'm back. I feel like there's also this uneasiness in five about tegan, that mirror that no one likes being held up to themselves. Their similarities but the starkly different ways they express them must be exhausting to five. and here she is back again. To push and prod and challenge and be brashly beautifully glorious. wait. that last bit was the two am shipper coming out. Anyway they draw strength and resolve and anger from each other and Tegan was vital to five, from his first moments till his very last.

[lladmie]

I'm really grateful that in Y0 Majima is actually portrayed as a real kind manager toward his subordinates (& only strict when he needs to be), in contrast with the way Japanese usually love to portray bosses at work: extremely abusive even though the narrative wants you to believe that in reality they do it for "your good" as a way to encourage you to do better...

[ramonathinks]

RAISE THE STAKES.

being a therapist was hard enough without the leader of an infamous group becoming your patient or to answer your questions, sylus has a few requests.

(18+, no minors! no blank accounts!) inappropriate relationships, patient!slyus, therapist!reader, munch slyus, oral and female masturbation, slight pussy inspection, dirty talk. exhibitionism, dry humping, word count: 3k... short and sweet

tagging: @xmiisuki @sunasbon @sugugasm <3

There was something clinical and plain about your office — though technically you were a type of doctor — the decor screamed hospital more than a comfortable place to tell your deepest darkest secrets. Faint pale blue walls with littered old stickers from the previous child therapist and even the stench of crayons … not to mention the floor tiles, squared with an iced blue paint that made the room both childish and clinical. Something fitting for a child hospital or even a former child psych ward.

That was the reason you decided for this particular appointment you’d switch rooms to somewhere more adult and that hopefully your boss would let you stay there. The pristine polished marble floors and white walls, two empty lush chairs and a small brown wooden table with magazines with two waters sitting on top. This was your dream room and one you felt you deserved. You were the most decorated person on your floor — top of your class in your undergrad and graduate class, internships at major places, yet you settled for here. Settled. It was smack dabbed in the middle of a city that needed you most. A dangerous city… but somewhere you felt like you could actually make a difference. 

Sitting in the chair towards the window you awaited for Sylus Qin – a name that sent more than enough shivers up your spine but who’s name spiked your curiosity, especially seeing it written for a first appointment directly with you. 

He walked in, his presence loud and alarming from the moment he stepped into the door, looking at you before he sat down in the seat closest to the door. You inhaled, the deep smell of metallic and what you must’ve guessed was gunpowder filled your nostrils. “You’re late,” You told him with a small smile. “And for your first appointment nevertheless.” Your tone is light and playful, you only hoped that he understood that. 

He arches a white brow and slouches back on the couch, it was obviously too small for his broad body and long legs but he still stretched them so they were nearing yours. “A meeting held me up.” He waited for some form of reaction before he looked away from you, probably now disappointed when your face remained blank.

You cleared your throat, “I’m quite sure that you didn’t come here on your own volition, so why are you here? I know that you of all people couldn’t have been forced.” You crossed your legs, watching his eyes glance at them.

“Two nuisances…” He grumbles, his face scrunched into a deadly scowl but his crimson eyes remain gentle as he looks at you. “It seems that I’ve been even more aggressive as of late.” He shrugs his shoulders as if he disagrees with the diagnosis. 

“Well… what made them come to that conclusion?” You watched him open his mouth to answer before he paused, thinking something. It takes a while before he speaks again and when he does he shocks you.

“What do I get if I answer any of your silly little questions…?” There’s a huskiness to his voice, a rough edge as he speaks. His eyes are trained on you, following you as your body sways a bit. 

You quirk a brow, “You want a reward for being…compliant?” You straighten your posture, looking at him with slightly wide eyes, it was the first time someone asked for something so ridiculous. “You tell me what you want—” You start before he interrupts you.

“Your panties.” Curt. Simple. Straightforward. You blinked, staring at this man and questioning how you managed to get yourself in this position. 

 Was the money worth it? That was the question roaming around your head as you just stared at him. How could he ask you such a thing with a serious face expression. “My panties? That would tempt you to answer the questions truthfully?” The skirt you were wearing felt a thousand times shorter and the room felt too warm for you to ignore the wetness you felt between your —

Your eyes twitched. A conversation alone, brief… and your panties were drenched, sticky to your folds. It would do wonders for your career to have gotten the man himself… the big leader of a malicious group to be less violence. So you sigh, “You want them now—”

“As an act of good faith,” He says smoothly. “Let’s put all our cards out on the table…How about you at least take them off so I know you’re being truthful to me.” 

You sucked your teeth, debating with yourself on if you really should do this or not. Your career is on the line regardless of each decision. You could just deny him, tell him off and force him out of your office. But your body seemed to be screaming at you to just do it. You hadn’t had sex nor a true orgasm in more than a year… possibly two and yet with him sitting in front of you, you felt as if you were close.

Your mouth no longer produces saliva and your throat dry as you slide them down your legs; you held them and watched a smirk take over his face. You couldn’t believe yourself honestly, this wasn’t something you’d ever expect yourself to do. While you weren’t exactly a good girl, you had standards… you couldn’t believe you were being so trashy. Yet the excitement in your body spilled out of your center and with his eyes glued there while you removed your underwear, your body shook.

“Already the air smells so better in here.” He chuckles and you feel embarrassment cloud your mind. “To answer your question from before… Apparently they believe I’m in a foul mood since I’ve been less tolerant on certain things that in the past, I was more passive on. They’ve expressed to me that with the rough ways I’ve been handling business has grown rather…impulsive.”

“Do you agree with that?” You recross your legs. “I’ve always heard that you were impulsive and honestly, I never heard anyone say you were passive… Do you think you’ve ever been passive? Do you think you can paint me a picture of yourself?”

He reaches out his hand and for a moment you’re confused before you realize he’s asking for his reward. Handing him the panties, you see him sniff them and it makes your insides quiver. This man… he was too much for you. 

“I see myself as…” He thinks, his eyebrows furrowed, he taps his foot on the ground. “I often find myself bored and find myself indulging in self destructive behavior... taking on more than I can and getting myself injured.” He scoffs. “I guess this particular time they're talking about is when I knew I was being set up but still decided to go alone without informing them - Luke and Kieran, I mean.”

“So they care about you?” You ask, mentally taking notes of every word and ever ounce of movement and even taking account of his voice and tone.

“Sure.” His voice has a slight tremble to it. “We’ve been together for longer than I can remember being without them…” Then he’s closed off again, acting as if he revealed too much to you. His crimson eyes trace up your legs again, he bites his lips.

You recrossed your legs. “Anyway…” You cough. “Is there a thrill in putting yourself in these situations? Or is there a need to demonstrate that your reputation is correct… to stop or limit people from defying you?” You are met with silence and a sinister glint in Sylus’ eyes. “Sylus? Do you need me to repeat the question?”

“I answered some for your panties. For this next question, you’ll have to do something else for me to answer it… unless you want a lie…or more silence.” His roaming eyes told you all that you needed to know, this request would be more.

A scowl on your face, “My panties weren’t enough?” You’re close to rolling your eyes at him, you want to hate him but it’s something in those eyes that keeps you from it. After this you knew that you’d decline any other visits from him, you might as well entertain him— no, you want to slap yourself for even thinking that thought. 

“I wanna see you cum, pet that pretty pussy and put a show on for me.” He says and you gasp, full blown as you stare at him. “C’mon kitten, don’t be so coy.” His eyes darkened but still his tone remained playful; slick gathered at your thighs and it’s almost as if he scented it with how quick his eyes snapped to your skirt.

“Sylus, the panties were already inappropriate enough. I can lose my license—” You stammer, your voice small and timid as you speak. This man… would be the death of you.

“I won’t let that happen.” 

You swallow, staring hard in his eyes. Looking in his eyes made you want to bend to his every whim and to continue. Your thighs spread a bit because honestly, you wanted this. “Fine.” You relinquished every ounce of self respect you had for yourself and spread your legs completely apart. A slap of cool air brushes against your bare skin, your shutter but spread your folds. You rub at your clit, staring in those addicting eyes. 

He drinks in the sight of you — dripping and oozing out spilling to the chair, he straightens himself, his eyes now locked between your thighs. Your clit is hard and throbbing knowing that his eyes are on your most delicate parts. You circle your entrance, collecting the slick that sits there before you dip it inside – teasing both you and him. You feel the warmth of yourself as you stroke your finger in and out of your walls, sloppy noises echoing around the room. Your thighs tremble and breathing heavy, he briefly glances at your face and back to the dripping sight below.  Your face scrunched up in a sense of pure ecstasy, you pop your finger out of your cunt and you put a finger in your mouth before rubbing your clit again, your thighs bucking and your hips humping upwards. 

His feet tap against the floor watching another finger join the one already knuckle deep inside of you, his fingers twitch looking at how wet and creamy your fingers are pumping in and out. “There’s a thrill… and excitement that comes with doing dangerous things…” His voice trails off, your mouth agape spilling little moans. “It feels good… it’s never a sense of pride, it’s more of a –” Using your other hand, you rub fast at your clit at the same time your fingers thrust inside deeper, hitting another spot that makes a bit of cream drip under you. “It’s more of a simple pleasure, just something to take the edge off of life. It’s a high… c’mon kitten, you’re killing me there. Need to see your face when you cum.” 

Your stomach sucks in at the words and you whine, leaking with a deep orgasm and deep breathing. “Ohhhhh!” Cream continues to spill out, you milk yourself more – curling your fingers before you pull them out with a drawn out moan. “Oh, mmm…” You feel so tired, your eyes dropping and a fuzzy brain when you turn your attention back on him. 

“What’s your next request for answering this last question?” You huff, your face flushed and your body trembling. You still tried to cover yourself but he just laughed, full and heartily. 

“I want you to sit on my face.” He’s hard, tapping his foot against the floor again still looking at your creamy pussy. “That’s all.”

“What?” But it shouldn’t surprise you anymore, no matter how much you fought on his demands… you knew you’d give in and you knew how badly you wanted him.

“I want you to sit on my face.” He said again, nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“But… why? Are you trying to make me lose my job? Or are you just insane and don’t care about my livelihood or my dignity?” But really, it didn’t matter, with all you did now… your license was already revoked. 

“Would you rather be a good girl and sit on my lap? Grind yourself on my cock?” It was an enticing offer and you had to mentally stop yourself from taking it up. “Just keep being an obedient little girl like you have been and come sit on my face.” He’s pulling himself from the chair to lie on the floor with a bright smile on his lips. He waited, both of you already knew that you were going to come. 

“First... put your fingers in my mouth.” It makes you jump when he says that but you swallow your nerves and pride, reaching over and letting his tongue work its way through your fingers, his tongue slimy wet and sticky all at once. He groans out at the taste. “Sit.” He says simply. You’d never did this before, your legs trembled just standing above his head and even more when you bent down. 

You hovered over him, a string of your slick dripping over his face before he moved his head to capture it between his tongue with a groan; swirling his tongue in a circular motion as he took in the taste. “So wet…tastes so good.” His voice deep and inviting; sticking his tongue inside then flicks his tongue against your clit and wraps his mouth around it — sucking it before he releases it with a plop sound.  “Sit.” He told you, rubbing his hands across your ass, spreading it so that your pussy would wink at him with a small gushy sound. He firmly sits completely on his face so that his face is covered with you. 

His tongue feels like a thousand tongues when you drip over his face, grinding your hips and circling them. Your knees digging into the floor when you slide forward and back against him.“Sy–lus!” The pad of his tongue licks up your slit, moving to your folds and up to suckle on your throbbing clit. You tug his hair and he buries his face impossibly more into your pussy. Grinding and shaking his face into you before gripping your hips to make you really grind against his mouth.

You squeal with every moment as he uses his tongue to curl deep inside of you – your legs shaking and he slurps. Your toes curl inside of your stuffy shoes and though you can’t see his face because of the skirt you wear, you can feel the devilish smirk against your flesh.

He pulls you up, holds you. A string of his salvia and your slick and cream mixed together on his lips. “Never did ask that question, sweetie.”

“Oh, fuck you Sylus.” He’s sitting you back down, your thighs squeezing his head. His mouth latched to your clit and doing deep sucks with his fingers pressed deep in your thighs. Opening his mouth wider to truly capture all of what he can of your cunt — there’s a deep hunger in every lick he gives, his tongue dragging down from your clit to your slit and back up again. He laps at your folds with nothing else but groans and soft moans that leave both of your mouths.

His tongue swirls on your clit before small soft kisses that make you flinch. Cream and slick trickling down your thighs, your hips continue to hump him — it was as if his face belonged there, his tongue glued to your core and eating up everything you had to offer. Lifting you again, he says, “Want to feel that pretty pussy soaking me… you’d like that won’t you?” He grins, showing all his teeth. You’re quick to nod your head, tears in your eyes… this man was turning you into his plaything and you could care less… there was a thrill to this.

He doesn’t take off his pants much to your disappointment but he helps you to sit on his lap, his lust filled scarlet eyes filled with nothing but desire as he rolls his hips against yours. A small gasp leaves your mouth, your bare cunt soaking his pants and his cock deliciously digging into your core. You wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze your eyes shut, letting him thrust up against your throbbing center. 

Throwing your head back – you rock your hips back and forth against his clothed cock – feeling him press himself harder into you, rubbing himself against your core with deep throaty groans of pleasure leaving his mouth. You try to match his movements, hips bouncing up and down against him with needy whines leaving your lips. You both hiss when his cockhead brushes up against your clit – he rubs himself back and forth repeatedly, slowly while you move faster – chasing that high and in that moment you knew of the pleasure and the high that Sylus mentioned earlier because your body was reveling in it. 

Your stomach swoops at the sticky sounds that come from your pussy and the soft noises he makes. Even with soundproof office spaces, you wouldn’t be surprised if someone heard you both. Lazy grinding becomes thrusting again before downright dirty gyrating of both of you against each other – so close, you were almost there yet again. Pathetic sinful whimpers falling out of your mouth, he presses openmouthed kisses up and down your neck, nibbling on your clavicle. Your back arches, tears falling from your eyes, your pussy sliding against him and his hips stuttering. But he stops, standing you both up. 

“W–why’d you stop?” You’re gasping for air on trembling legs, he holds you close. Small sniffles leaving your mouth, desperate to feel him.

“I believe our time is up, sweetie. Maybe another visit will help unpack more.” He chuckles, walking towards the door. “I’ll return these on my next visit.”

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny runs for Mayor

Simple Prompt: Danny runs for the Gotham Mayor position

Extended Prompt: Danny is an absolute little shit throughout his entire campaign but still manages to win because he is legitimately one of the best candidates around

Just imagine the crack that could come from this!

Reporter: What is your stance on Vigilantism? Danny: Well I agree that Vigilantes are helpful for the communities that need them, and they should work with the police at every opportunity, I feel like the idea will always be a city where Vigilantes are not needed. Also I fail to see the relevancy of the question, there are no vigilantes in Gotham Reporter: What do you mean? What about the Bat-Family? Danny: No, Batman isn’t a Vigilante. Batman is a Crime Lord.

Or

Danny: As mayor, I promise that I will not be infected by corruption. Not because of my moral standings, but because I absolutely fucking hate clowns and I will never accept a bribe as long as that guy is still alive. Yes this is me putting a hit out on the Joker. Crime Bosses, if you want to try and bribe me, you gotta kill him first or I won’t even consider it!

Or

Batman: Why is a Meta-Human running for Gotham Office? You know this city doesn’t have a very good track record with people like you. Even the Signal had a rough start. Danny: Well, I just had a strong compulsion to help this city reach the peak of it’s potential *looks over Batman’s shoulder to see Lady Gotham holding up Cue Cards telling him what to say. She promised to help with his paperwork for the next 50 years if he became Mayor and helped fix her city* Danny: Such a strong compulsion...

Or

Penguin: Look kid, I don’t care if you have enough power to destroy me at the subatomic level, I have enough money to ruin you, your sister, your parents, even your uncle! Danny: Oh really? I could get the souls of every person you have ever killed to get confessions out of them. Or I could give them the power to rip you apart. Or I could even just possess you and donate all your money to charity.

Or

Danny: Oh god dammit! Vlad: Hello Badger! Glad to see you followed in my footsteps instead of your fathers! Danny: This wasn’t because of you! Lady Gotham asked for help! Vlad: A WIN IS A WIN!

[greg-montgomery]

I would love a fic about Reid’s friend coming to visit him at work and as soon as Hotch lays eyes on her it’s love at first sight. But she’s like really girlie and bubbly so the rest of the team is so confused as to why Hotch is so whipped for her :)

“She said that to you?”

“Yeah…I mean the audacity of some people,” you said shaking your head. “I’ve had enough of her. And I promise you, next time I’m telling our manager.” As if to prove the harshness of your words you dropped on his desk a stapler you had been playing with to occupy your hands.

Spencer smiled, entertained as always from your stories involving your least favorite coworker.

“Anyway, enough with her. We can go now, right?”

“Yeah, just let me get all my stuff.”

A deep voice coming from behind you right before you opened your mouth stopped you from complaining. “Reid, that last report needs-

The fact that you turned around to search for the owner of that voice seemed to stop him from speaking any further.

You blinked softly at him melting under the man’s gaze. He was tall, handsome, and looked like he could easily kill you: just your type.  

“Hotch?” you heard your friend’s voice.

That was Hotch?

“You’re Hotch?

“Yeah,” he breathed out a laugh. “And you are?”

“Y/N,” Spencer introduced you to him. “Sorry, she’s just picking me up.”

“That’s alright,” Hotch replied to him while still looking into your eyes. “So I take it you’ve heard about me.”

“Only the best,” you giggled.

“Yes, I’m sure Reid has never complained to you about paperwork or having to work on a weekend,” he rolled his eyes, not entirely convinced.

“I haven’t!” Spencer defended himself.

Hotch laughed and a beautiful smile stuck on his face. No way this was the same man Spencer had talked to you about that ‘never smiled’ and ‘never blinked’.

“Um…you wanted to tell me something about a report?” your friend awkwardly positioned himself next to you trying to get Hotch’s attention.

“Right,” he said. “It’s…it’s fine. It can wait until tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay.”

--

“Do you see that?” Penelope whispered, grabbing Emily with one hand and JJ with the other.

“What is it?”

“Look,” she said pointing at you from afar.

“Who’s that?” Emily asked.

“And why is Hotch looking at her like he’s about to eat her?” JJ added.

“It’s Y/N, Reid’s best friend.”

“Oh…well good thing she’s not his girlfriend ‘cause…”

“Right?” Garcia said. “Oh my God, do you guys think they’re gonna fall in love? It would be so cute…they will start going on dates and we’re gonna get the weekends off!”

JJ tilted her head observing the pair of you. “You wouldn’t think that’s his type. She looks so…sunshine-y.”

“Well, I think that’s exactly what Hotch needs,” Emily said. “Some sunshine.”

--

“Why didn’t you tell me he was hot?” you asked when you were finally out of everyone’s sight.

“Who?”

“Hotch!”

“Ew…he’s like my dad!”

“To you!” you said opening your car door. “How am I supposed to drive now? My hands are shaking.”

“Because…of my boss?” Spencer asked, sounding confused.

You got into your seat and started giggling, covering your mouth with your hands. “Fuck,” you sighed moving your hands to cup your own cheeks feeling their heat. “This has never happened to me before. I think I just fell in love.”

Spencer gave you a side eye. “We’re still talking about Hotch, right?”

You bit your bottom lip and pulled a little card out of your pocket. “He gave me his number.”

“When did this even happen?”

“When you were putting your stuff in your bag.”

“So he likes you too?”

“I guess,” you smiled.

For a few moments the two of you stared at each other before bursting out in laughter.

“And I always thought Derek would be the one going after you.”

You let out a heavy sigh like a lovesick schoolgirl. “He’s really handsome, Spence.”

“He’s a good man too,” he said.

“So you approve?”

“I would never stand in the way between you and my father figure.”

“Shut up,” you laughed and started your car.

part 2

[imaginaryf1shots]

Age | Lewis Hamilton

WC: 3.6K

Warning: Age Gap, cursing? kissing

Summery:(REQUESTED) When you fall for your boss who is much older than you.

Masterlist

Lewis Masterlist

Getting with Lewis wasn't what you sat out to do, you started working for his LH team, managing their social media and content. They felt like a younger person would best suit the job, Lewis wasn't involved in hiring you. In fact you hadn't seen him until a few weeks after you were hired. When you were sent to film him for content to post on Instagram. Lewis is a very nice man, it's a well known fact. Everyone that has ever

worked with him would tell you this(just don't ask Nico).

You haven't always been drawn to older men; you don't think about age that much. As long as you're both legal and mature, why not? But it wasn't like a kink or a plus in your books. Lewis just drew you in. Maybe it was his confidence, his maturity, or something completely different that captivated you. What you know for sure is that Lewis had your attention the moment you met and talked; there was no denying it. The pull you had, how easy it was for you to talk and have a laugh, was undeniable. Your relationship started professionally, but the more you met, the more you talked, and the more you got to know each other, the closer you got. And when you exchanged personal phone numbers, it was game over. You were calling each other all the time, texting, and FaceTiming. You hadn't reached the point of meeting when there was no reason to. But then Lewis had you travel with him under the guise of needing content, even though Mercedes had its own media managers.

You were denying your feelings. Lewis is an older, more experienced man, and he could have any woman he wants, why would he care or be interested in you, you found no reason for it. All the calls and texting you just convinced yourself is him being nice. Maybe he sees you as a mentee and nothing else.

You were at a hotel room in New York, Lewis had a shoot for one sponsor or the other plus a fashion event to attend. The sponsor stuff was already filmed and done the day before, so that was that. Meaning you'd only photograph Lewis with his outfit to the event and your day of work would be done. Your room was booked in the same hotel as Lewis, definitelydefiantly not as lush as his but it was a five star hotel, your room was amazing. You were lounging a bit in your room until you receive a call that Lewis was

done changing. You hear a knock on the door, you haven't ordered room service, so it came as a surprise.

Getting up from your comfy position on the bed, you open the door to see one of the hotel staff standing in front of you with a clothes bag in hand.

"Hi? How can I help you?" You ask the man, who had a polite smile on his face.

"I was asked to bring this to you." The man tries to hand you the bag but you step back.

"Are you sure you got the right room?" You're certain there must be a mistake why would you be sent a clothes bag

"You're Ms. y/n y/n, right?" You nod with a small yes. The man then smiled bigger and handedhands you the bag again. "Then this is for you."

You hesitate before taking the bag, thanking the man and then closing the door. You open the bag and a dress that is more expensive than anything you own is there waiting for you. Your mouth drops, the dress is stunning, you don't know the brand but it lookslooked amazing. After the shock of seeing the dress wore off you lay it on the bed and find your phone, pressing Lewis's name in the recently calls and press the phone to your ear

"Hello"

"Don't hello me." You say looking at the dress as if it just called you cheap in every language on earth, your tone is not happy and Lewis picks up on it instantly

"What's wrong, love? What did I do?" Lewis has an inkling why you're not happy with him and he's trying not to smile, but he's failing miserably

"You just sent me a dress, for some unknown reason, and I bet it cost an arm and a leg!" You exclaim and Lewis could imagine you pouting as you talk, he lets out a small giggle.

"Look it's from one of my favourite up and coming designers and I saw the design and I instantly thought of you." Lewis defends himself, it's the same designer that designed his clothes for the day.

"So you bought it for me?" You ask in disbelief.

"Yeah." Lewis replied as if it's the most normal thing ever

"Lewis!"

"Yes, baby girl." You instantly stop when you hear the new pet name, Lewis calls you love a lot but that's just because he's British. But this, this new, it got you blushing and struggling to say anything, you're feeling shy and speechless. Damn that man, he knew what he was doing "Seeing as you're not saying anything, I expect to see you in that dress when you come up, also I'll be done in 15 minutes or so."

Lewis hangs up and you're left there staring at the dress, before you sigh. Thankfully you showered this morning, so you just started on your make-up a simple look that will complement the dress nicely, and do your hair. It's more than 15 minutes, but you haven't gotten a call from Lewis or anyone else in the team. Once you're finished and with small heels on you're making your way up to Lewis's suite.

It doesn't take long before the door opens by the designer, she gasps looking at you and grins

"You look stunning" You blush at the praise and walk in

"It's all thanks to you." You wave her compliment off.

"Thanks, but it's the person in the clothes that brings out the beauty of the designs." She tells you and you can't fight the redness in your cheeks. "Lewis is in there."

You go to the room she's pointing at, you're holding your camera equipment bag in your hand. You walk in and see Lewis standing in front of the mirror, inspecting everything about his look. He doesn't look up when you walk in, so you take the moment to take him in, the see-through shirt allows you to see the faint outline of his abs and muscles, his tattoos on show.

Lewis feels your presence, he looks at you and you don't realise it so caught up in checking him out. Happy with himself he takes a moment to look at you, and you're stunning, the dress fits you like a glove, tight in the right places and loose in the right places. He's never seen you so dressed up. Lewis is out of his trace before you are. He clears his throat and your eyes snap to his

All you see in his eyes is amusement, the blush comes back to your cheeks but you ignore it and him and take out your camera.

"You're done right?" You ask him busying yourself. You already know where you want to take the photos, where the best lighting is for everything

"You look stunning, love." Lewis's words once more stun you, and you pause in your actions before you look up at him once more, meeting his coffee coloured eyes.

"It's not practical." You say and stand straight your free hand runs over the dress to smooth out any wrinkles, suddenly feeling insecure. Lewis is always having women thrown at him, models and beauty queens, all stunning, and here you are, just him social media manager/photographer

"It's not meant to be practical, besides after the photos, you're off for the night, and you're coming as my plus one." Lewis states and your eyes go wide

"W-What? No, Lewis I can't go as your plus one." You tell him with a shake to your head.

"Why not?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"Because... I just can't, H-I don't want to." You mumble, looking at the floor not meeting his eyes.

"You don't have to walk the carpet with me, just go inside and join me there." Lewis doesn't want to take it personally, he knows being seen with him comes with a lot of packages and you're not even dating yet.

"Okay, yeah, I can do that." You say and look at him and swallow, Lewis had a smile on his face, as his eyes held you in. You cough and wave your camera. "Let's take some photos now.”

Lewis knows how to pose and it doesn't take long before you have the shots you're both happy with, before Lewis leads you to the mirror with his phone in hand.

"Come on, one of us together." Lewis's smile makes it hard for you to refuse, his arm wraps around you pulling you close to his side, you gasp and his quick movement your hand falls onto his chest to stabilise yourself. You look up, and his face is so close to yours, he's facing the mirror, and clicks his phone to capture the look on your face as you look up at him, Licking your lips slightly you face the mirror and

smile, ignoring your fast beating heart, it's so fast Lewis must feel it. You both pose for a few more, all with Lewis's hand one you one way or the other.

The car ride is filled with small talk, as Lewis and the designer talk, they'll walk the red carpet and you'll be dropped at another entrance. You're sitting between Lewis and the designer. You pull at your cuticles an anxious tic you have when you're anxious. Lewis doesn't look at you, before he takes your hand in his. Your heart skips a beat. Lewis only lets go when you arrive, both their doors are open, and before he lets go of your hand he gives it a squeeze and he gets out

Your seat is next to the designer close to where Lewis is sitting, they have all the A-listers sitting next to each other. But Lewis does come to talk to you before the show begins, and makes sure you're okay. But you only get talking after the show. Where the music is playing, people are dancing and the drinks are flowing at the open bar

"Your first show, what do you think?" Lewis asks you, you're both deciding not to drink since you have flights tomorrow.

"It was great." You reply with a smile. "It was so much fun... thank you."

"No worries, did you take any pictures?" Lewis asked and you shook your head no. "We can't have that, come on, I know a spot upstairs"

Lewis doesn't wait or hesitate, he takes your hand in his and leads you through the crowds, he helps you up the stairs like the gentleman he is. The place he takes you to is empty, the lighting is good and the music is faint. Lewis lets go of your hand and takes out his phone.

"Okay, Mr. photographer, where do you want me?" You tease him and move your arms shyly.

"Right here." Lewis moves you to where he wants and you pose, Lewis hypes you up. "You look great love, a little to the right, yes, now move your shoulder to the front, right there, wow, this one looks amazing, look at you posing."

For the next 15 minutes Lewis takes all sorts of photos, the last ones being a close up of your upper body and face. You don't look at the lens for those you look at him, and maybe that's why they're his favourite. You stand even closer to the older man as you look at the photos he took.

"Look at you go, if you even want to switch careers, photography will do you good." You smile and then look up at him, he's already looking at you and for the hundredth time today, your heart starts beating faster. He's so close to you, you can smell his cologne. Is he? Is he moving closer? Or is it just your mind playing tricks on you? You lick your lips and his eyes move from yours down to follow the movement.

You're already wearing heels, so you couldn't tip toe to close the distance, but you didn't have to, because Lewis leans down and presses his lips to yours. Your eyes flutter shut, as a shiver went down your spine. Lewis's lips moved against yours once, twice, thrice before he pulled back all too suddenly. The warmths that overwhelmed you is suddenly gone. Lewis’s hands are gone and he takes a step back, your eyes flutter open and all you see is regret. The insecurity is hitting you hard.

”W-w…”

”I’m so sorry love, I didn’t mean to- I just- I’m sorry.” Lewis found himself unable to find the words, he has liked you for a long time, but here he is after kissing you suddenly doubting himself.

”No, no it’s okay, you don’t have to apologise.” You say and look to the side, your hands wrapped around your middle, you swallow.

”No, I have to, I didn’t ask and I don’t know if you wanted me to kiss you and I just did.” Lewis says and you realise why he stopped, why he looked so regretful. He thought you didn’t like it, that he forced you, he thought you didn't like it. “I’m your boss, and I may have pressured you into it and I never wanted to do something like this, I completely understand if- why? Why are you smiling?”

”Oh Lewis Hamilton, the man you are.” Lewis is now left confused, you step closer to him, and Lewis stands still with his hands down by his sides, as you place your hands on his chest, feeling the muscles under your fingertips. “If you only knew how much you affect me, I just thought it was one-sided, that you see me as a child or something.”

”Believe me baby girl, I see you as the woman you are.” Lewis’s voice drops a few octaves that have you shivering. His hand makes the small of your back home, he pulls you closer so you’re flush against him, a gasp leaves your lips, and his hand moves down to the top of your butt.

”Lewis.” You breathe out, your eyes fluttering.

”Sweetheart.” Those fucking pet names will be the death of you, this time you pull him by the back of his neck down to meet your lips. The soft moanes leaving your lips leave him wanting for more.

You don't know how long you stood there for but by the time you were done with the little make out session you both had to fix your lipstick. The lavish bathroom you both stand in front of the mirror, trying to wipe the lipstick. Exchanging smiles and giggles through the mirror, pumping hips and kisses.

”Lewis stop, we can’t kiss, I have lipstick on.” You say giggling halfheartedly pushing him away.

”Once I got a taste I couldn’t resist.” You blush and tell him to stop once more, before you both leave the bathroom. Going back to the event downstairs you both act as if nothing appended, and somehow you sell it.

Safe to say, you’re stuck to each other’s side. Lewis flies you everywhere and your relationship turns from professional to romantic slowly in front of the others, but to you two, after that night in New York you were dating.

You dreaded the time the media will find out, you know there’s two ways it will go, either they will go after Lewis or they will go after you. And you think they’ll go after you. Your appearance in the paddock was nothing new, but your appearance at dinners with other drivers and wags was new. No one said anything or commented, you got on super well with the wags. You did share your fears with Kika and Alex, they gave you as much advice as they could and told you what to expect. It’s always hard when a driver hard launches or even is just rumoured to be with someone.

You and Lewis didn’t get the chance to hard launch or soft launch, or do any of that sorts. A paparazzi somehow found you while you were on vacation and snapped a lot of pictures of the two of you in intimate positions. Kissing, cuddling, hands all over each other, there was no way of getting out of that one.

So during the next race Lewis walked into the paddock with your hand in his, the fans weren’t 100% who you were when the photos were leaked, but the moment you walked in all your social media was out for everyone to see. The things you were both scared of the most, happened. The fans weren’t happy with the age gap, you were both adults but it seemed like everyone knew why you were dating but you too. And that Lewis is just too nice to know that you’re with him for money. The almost 40 year old didn’t know any better. Like a lot of wags you received a lot of hate, and Lewis hadn’t confirmed a relationship in years, so you were an awaited wag.

You both expected all of this, what you didn’t expect is for every driver that interacted with Lewis to have their social media flooded with messages and comments of people telling them to tell Lewis that you were using him, and that the age gap is disgusting.

Lando was streaming once and he was talking about Mercedes or something when the chat took that turn.

”Come on chat, don’t be mean.” Lando said after he noticed all those comments. “You don’t know y/n and Lewis, they’re perfectly happy and there’s nothing to worry about. Let’s all just care about ourselves.”

Lily and Alex were live on Instagram for one reason or the other and they also got a ton of comments, especially since Lilly was seen hanging out with you a Friday of a race weekend.

“Believe me guys, y/n, is the nicest person ever, she’s so understanding and sweet.” Lilly said to the viewers, after seeing where the comments turned to.

”We’ve actually gone out with them a few times, and they look happy and in love.” Alex added.

”I haven’t been around LEwis much, but I feel like he looks… happier and more content?” Lily said and looked at her boyfriend.

”Yeah, I think George said as well, he looks happy and that this relationship is doing them both a lot of good.” Alex said and Lily nodded with him. “It’s good when you get into a relationship and you become better and happier.”

”Yeah.”

Things like that kept happening, and there were some videos of you and Lewis posted online just being lost in each other while dancing, having dinner or even just walking. The way you’d give each other all the attention when you’re talking is something admirable.

All those things online, affected you, you hated how negative your space online became, how much it became on Lewis’s accounts, and on the other drivers’ accounts as well. What it didn’t affect is your relationship with Lewis.

Lewis wasn’t happy, of course he wasn’t. You’re his girlfriend and his ‘fans’ are attacking you online, he can see how your smile never reached your eyes when you said you were okay. It affected you to some degree.

So he just hugged you tighter, told you he loved you more, and tried everything to keep you away from all that talk.

“What are you doing?” You mumble as you wake up from your slumber, you went back to the hotel after FP2, feeling tired, and Lewis having to stay back for a long meeting. It was almost midnight when he made it back to the room and found you sleeping in the middle of the bed. Lewis stripped to his boxers and slipped beside you. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer to him, this roused you from your sleep.

”Just want to hold you.” He said softly and kissed your cheek, you smiled and cracked your eyes open just a little, you turned around so you’re facing him. You cuddle more into him, nuzzling your face in his neck, as he laid on his back.

”How was the meeting?” You asked barely coherent, and Lewis knows you’ll ask again in the morning, that everything that will come out of your mouth right now is just your subconscious and that you will remember nothing.

”It was good, there’s going to be a few changes to the car tomorrow.” Lewis told you rubbing your back.

”Do we like it?” You ask, knowing that your stance on things is his stance on things, when it comes to driving and cars.

”Yeah, but we’ll see tomorrow.”

”Hmm, that’s good.” You fall silent and Lewis thinks you fell asleep before you say a barely audible. “I love you.”

”I love you too, baby girl.”

It took time, but the public came to accept the fact you’re here to stay and you’re not just using him for a week or two, for clout or anything of that sort. IT got better. But it never went away, and you don’t think it will. You don’t plan on breaking up with Lewis any time soon and you don’t think he will. And that’s all that mattered, you’re both happy and content with what you have.

Maintaglist:

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog

[hoonharem]

recs

📓 all sunghoon, 18+.

tags: smut, fave (★)

—

❕ all are smut and sunghoon x reader (afab).

🔍 full warnings on original posts; read at your own risk.

—

📓 no to minimal plot

» we can’t be friends ★ (421, ex bf!hoon)

» guilty as charged (486, somnophilia)

» now he knows (943, jealous!hoon)

» good guys could never (1.3k, brother’s friend!hoon)

» bratty baby (1.4k, tamer!hoon)

» fuck me like a slut (1.4k, bf!hoon)

» you're on my mind and i want you as mine (1.4k, fwb!hoon)

» insatiable (1.5k, fingering)

» only you (1.6k, jealous!reader)

» you get me so high all the time (1.6k, smoking)

» what are friends for? (1.8k, bff!hoon)

» dangerously (1.8k, bf!hoon, angry sex)

» agora hills (1.9k, idol bf!hoon, somnophilia)

» missed you (1.9k, sub!hoon)

» bestfriend's older brother (1.9k, bff!taesan)

» sample session (2.1k, doctors)

» drip, drip, drip (2.1k, cunnilingus)

» i hate valentine's day (2.1k, bf!hoon)

» pretty boy in glasses, please save me ★ (2.2k, idol!hoon)

» heaven (2.2k, infidelity)

» carnal (2.3k, stepcest, dubcon)

» fuck boy next door (2.7k, tutor!hoon) 1/2

» fuck boy next door (3.3k, tutor!hoon) 2/2

» mine (2.4k, jealous!hoon, ex bf!jake)

» into it (2.6k, frat boy!hoon, fwb)

» all of you (2.7k, bf!hoon)

» subscriber benefits (2.8k, camboy!hoon)

» vacation (2.9k, bf!hoon)

» the lion and the lamb (3k, vampire!hoon)

» pent up (3.2k, idol!hoon, threesome with hee) 1/2

» first and last (3.4k, past love)

» tease (3.5k, possessive!hoon)

» six feet under (3.5k, cheating!hoon)

» okay (3.6k, fwb!hoon, hurt/comfort)

» drawn to you ★ (3.7k, cheating!hoon)

» always and forever (4k, makeup sex)

» cabin fever (4k, bf!hoon)

» conceal (4k, popular!hoon)

» look closely (4k, jealous!hoon)

» car sex (4.3k, street racer!hoon)

» picturesque (4.6k, bf!hoon)

» hard (4.9k, neighbor!hoon, threesome with jay) 1/3

» sweat (5k, neighbor!hoon) 2/3

» mark me yours (5k, idol!hoon, jealousy)

» scream (5k, bf!hoon, horror movie reference) 2/2

» liar, sweetheart (5.1k, twins!hoon, rivals to lovers)

» own little porn star (5.1k, professor!hoon)

» cool with you (5.6k, pervert!hoon)

» little bit of affection (5.7k, manager!hoon)

» bed (7.8k, fiance!hoon)

📓 with plot

» night shift (4.5k, camboy and boss!hoon)

» teach me, please (5.3k, student!hoon) 1/1

» teach me, please (5.1k, student!hoon) 2/2

» are you? (5.7k, bf!hee, reader cheats with hoon) 1/1

» are you mine? (2.5k, ex bf!hee, cheating with hoon) 2/2

» nudes i can't send ★ (6.4k, ex bf!hoon)

» blessed cursed (6.6k, demons, threesome with hee)

» say my name ★ (6.9k, neighbour!hoon, enemies to lovers)

» young, dumb, and full of (8k, pornstars, hyungline!fivesome)

» meddle about ★ (9k, fwb!hoon, threesome with hee) 1/2

» meddle about (with me) ★ (11.9k, fwb!hoon, ex bf!hee) 2/2

» first date etiquette ★ (9.3k, neighbor!hoon)

» forbidden attraction (9.3k, ravenclaw!hoon)

» cross the line (10k, a/b/o, threesome with hee)

» cherry pits (12.9k, dilf!hoon)

» get you better (13.6k, bf!jake, reader cheats with hoon)

» release me, embrace me ★ (15k, a/b/o, bff’s brother!hoon)

» pink whitney ★ (19k, brother's friend!hoon)

» one of the damned girls (20.4k, vampire!hoon)

» i’ll love you forever ★ (21.8k, bff!hoon, fake dating)

» gods and monsters ★ (23k, stepcest, love triangle) 1/3

» heaven and back ★ (24k, stepcest, love triangle) 2.1/3

» serial sweetheart ★ (23.6k, bf!hoon, reader cheats with jake)

» the boy next door trope ★ (26.5k, figure skater!hoon)

» deep end (36.6k, summer fling)

📓 hard thoughts, drabbles, etc.

» 24/7 thinking about you

» dirty girl (phone sex)

» jealous sex

» riding sunghoon's nose

» riding sunghoon's abs

» tired!sunghoon

» sweet bf!sunghoon

» ceo!sunghoon

» husband!sunghoon ★

» exboyfriend!sunghoon

» pussy drunk!sunghoon

» ravenclaw!sunghoon

» ovulating!reader ★

» cheating!reader

» high sex drive!reader

» favorite places to lick

— 📔 hyung line

» shared girlfriend (1.6k, gangbang, bf!hee)

» first time blowjob

» favorite positions

» member guessing by having sex

» cam boys

—

❕ part 2 will be out soon.

[puckinghischier]

Spotlight

luke hughes x fem!reader

summary - reader prefers to stay out of the spotlight being luke hughes’ girlfriend brings

notes - y’all asked for luke, so luke you’ll get. i wanted to try to get out at least one more fic for you guys before my semester kicks off tomorrow. i don’t know how often i’ll be able to write once things get going, but i’m going to try my best not to completely disappear again. i don’t really like the ending of this, but i hope you enjoy it anyways. happy reading! 🫶🏼

request - “go with me?” “only if you’ll hold my hand” “take my jacket, i don’t want you catching a cold”

[2.3k]

You were someone that absolutely hated the spotlight. You hated the feeling of eyes on you, the knowledge that every move you make is being observed and analyzed.

You flew under the radar all through school, until college. You managed to become valedictorian of your program, earning a highly sought after position with a company based out of New Jersey.

The city has always brought a sense of anonymity to you that you’ve enjoyed. The ability to be a stranger everywhere you go brings a certain comfort to you.

That is, until you met one of the most well-known men in Jersey.

You first met Luke at an event your company was hosting in partnership with the Devils to present them with a hefty donation for a new practice facility. You had tried to get out of going, suit and tie events not being your typical scene, but your boss informed you that you were required to attend.

Even wearing the most plain dress you could find, you caught the attention of none other than the team’s rookie defenseman. You had tried to politely make your exit, but Luke was too intrigued by the pretty stranger in the corner.

The two of you had spent the rest of the night talking, despite the feeling of every eye on you as Luke lead you back to a table. The two of you exchanged numbers at the end of the event, Luke inviting you out to a game. He offered to give you a ticket, but you informed him that your company had rink-side season seats, courtesy of the GM after the donation.

You attended games regularly after that night, blending in the sea of red with Luke’s own Jersey on your back—another perk of the large donation— while also chatting with Luke nearly every day over text, which eventually morphed into phone calls, then facetime calls when he was on the road.

Four months after your initial meeting, Luke decided to make it official and put a label on your relationship.

You had worried about the unwanted attention that came with being a ‘WAG’ as you learned the other significant others on the team were nicknamed, but your feelings for Luke were greater than any discomfort you may experience.

Now, though, looking at the hoard of photographers that are stationed around the rink, your anxiety begins to spike a little.

“Honeybee, I promise it’ll be fine. They probably won’t even focus on us, anyways. They’ll want a few shots of me and Jack with mom and dad, but it’s likely they’ll be too busy on the guys with kids to even notice you’re with me,” Luke reassures you, crouched in front of you while tying your skates.

Today was family skate day for the team, Luke having asked you weeks ago to participate with him.

You agreed, despite your limited ability to skate, thinking it was just going to be the players and their families, no media presence. When you arrived with Luke this morning, however, and you saw the photographers trying to get pictures through the windows of Luke’s BMW, you realized you were wrong.

“I’m just nervous, Luke,” you tell him quietly. “I know if they release pictures of you with a girl during family skate it’s going to be the next big hockey gossip topic, and then it’ll feel like I’m under a microscope.”

Luke’s soft eyes look up at you, sensing the nervousness in your own.

“I know, sweet girl. But I promise, I’ll have Tom talk to the media and tell him to withhold any pictures of us together, if that makes you feel better?” he offers, picking up your now skate clad foot off of his knee and placing it on the padded floor.

You think about the offer, but realize it would still cause unwanted attention on you. You don’t want to be difficult, just invisible.

“No, I don’t want to overcomplicate things. It’s fine. Like you said, I’m sure they’ll mostly focus on everyone else,” you smile down at him, watching his own grin overtake his face.

“Well then, it’s time we finally get you acquainted with the ice. I have a feeling you’ll be seeing a lot of it in your future,” he winks, standing to his full height and holding a hand out to help you off of the bench.

He helps you walk over to the entrance to the rink, steadying you after every wobble. Once you reached the gate, you hesitate, halting your movements.

“C’mon, Honeybee. Go with me?” Luke asks you, already having stepped on the ice.

Thinking about what this means once more, and the huge step it is, no only onto the ice but in your relationship, you hesitate for only a few seconds.

“Only if you hold my hand,” you tell him, your words going deeper than just ice skating.

“Always,” he responds, tugging your hands towards him when you step onto the ice, shakily keeping your balance.

“Well, look at you, Wallflower, out here skating with the big dogs,” Jack calls out, skating up towards you and Luke.

Looking over to give him a short smile, you try to keep a majority of your attention on not falling over as Luke slowly pulls you towards him as he skates backwards.

“Figured it can’t be that hard if you do it all the time,” you tease him back, the two of you becoming close friends over the course of yours and Luke’s relationship.

Jack, as rambunctious and rowdy as he can be, is one of the people who works the hardest to keep you out of the spotlight, other than Luke, of course.

On the rare occasion you decide to tag along for team outings with Luke, Jack will act as your own personal body guard, perfectly hiding you in-between him and Luke anytime there’s a flash of a camera or a squeal of a fan.

“Oh, yeah, make fun of the professional. Let’s see you do this,” Jack makes a big show of skating backwards while swiveling, then executing a very poor jump, but still managing to land upright on his skates.

You roll your eyes at him, only glancing up for a few seconds at a time, trying to keep your eyes on your own feet.

“Alright, Jack, that’s enough showing off. Give the poor girl a break,” you hear Ellen scold her middle child as her and Jim skate over towards the three of you, hand in hand.

“Hey, she started it. I was just trying to defend myself,” he holds his hands up in surrender.

Luke guides you over to one of the short walls, allowing you to hold onto it for support for a second, giving you a break.

“Don’t act like you have to have a reason to show off, it’s just your natural state,” you tease Jack again, earning a laugh from the rest of the group.

“You got me there,” Jack doesn’t argue, shrugging his shoulders in agreement.

“Jack! Luke! Over here!” you hear a voice yell, turning to look at the photographer a few feet away from you, leaning over the wall with his camera pointed in your direction.

You feel the spike of anxiety in your chest, attempting to scoot further down the wall to separate yourself from them, but nearly losing your balance.

Luckily Luke was right there to catch you. “Hey, it’s okay. They’ll just get a few pictures of our family together and then move on,” he assures you once he makes sure you’re steady enough to be left alone.

You watch as Jack and Luke position themselves in just the right way that you’re completely hidden behind them, the added bodies of Ellen and Jim only ensuring your hidden state.

The photographer snaps a few shots of the family before giving a thumbs up, looking down to check the quality of his pictures.

You let out the breath you were holding in, sagging a bit at the relief of avoiding any unwanted attention.

“See, told you there was nothing to worry about,” Luke skates over to you again, leading you away from the wall.

“Luke! How about a shot of you and your lady!” the same photographer yells out, causing your relaxed state to turn rigid in a heartbeat.

“Nah, man. No pictures for her today. Just me and Jack,” Luke replies, skating to stand in front of you, blocking you from the camera pointed at you.

“Oh, c’mon, man. The fans will love it!” the photographer tries again, attempting to move positions to catch a glimpse of you.

“He said, no, man. Go get some shots of Cap or something. She doesn’t want her picture taken,” Jack skates up, standing in front of both you and Luke.

The photographer rolls his eyes, agitated at the loss of a good picture opportunity. “Fine, whatever,” the man huffs, turning and walking towards Nico and his family.

“Thanks, you guys,” you mumble out, embarrassed at the interaction.

“I told you, no pictures if you don’t want them,” Luke turns to face you, taking your hands in his once again, pulling you out further onto the ice.

The rest of the skate goes smoothly, no more unwanted attention from the photographers, just you and Luke and his family skating in small circles and having a good time.

Towards the end of the skate, you start bringing your gloved hands up to rub at your red nose, the chill of the ice finally getting to you.

“You cold, Honeybee?” Luke asks you, knowing how chilled you get, even when wearing layers like you were right now.

“Yeah, it’s a little chilly in here. Not that you’d know,” you tease your boyfriend, gesturing to his full set of pads and jersey he was wearing. Not to mention his tolerance for the cold anyways.

He leads the two of you over towards the benches, leaving you leaned against the wall for a second before returning with something in his hands.

“Here, take my jacket, I don’t want you catching a cold,” he tells you, draping your favorite plaid jacket of his over your shoulders.

You put your arms through the large sleeves, loving how you were now engulfed in the smell of his cologne.

Thanking him, you lean up to give him a small kiss, not caring who was watching, lost in your love for your boyfriend.

“Alright, let’s get you out of these skates and back into your normal shoes before people start filing in for warm ups. I have a game to play and you have to get to your seat so you can watch your hunky boyfriend do his manly job of hitting people and chasing a piece of rubber on ice,” he tells you, causing you to laugh at him, bringing a hand up to ruffle his curls.

After helping you remove your skates, and pouting until you give him a good luck kiss, Luke shoos you away so you can make your way to your usual seat, Jim and Ellen opting to join you at the glass rather than sitting in a box with some of the other player parents.

The boys ended up winning their game, Luke coming straight out of the locker room after the game and picking you up in a celebratory spin, claiming you have to go skating with him before every game now.

You laugh at his superstitious self, grabbing his hand and walking towards the exit of the rink with him to join the rest of the team for celebratory drinks, not wanting to bail on Luke after such a game.

Weeks later, when you see an article containing the pictures from the family skate event, you click on it and scroll through the various snapshots.

You find yourself smiling at all of the family pictures of Luke’s teammates, enjoying how happy the guys are to have their wives and kids with them on the ice.

Scrolling all the way to the end of the article, you find yourself stopping on a couple pictures in particular, the familiar pit of anxiety forming in your stomach.

The last two pictures in the article are pictures of you and Luke. The first was taken when he was zipping up the jacket he gave you, the two of you looking at each other with so much fondness you could feel the love radiating from the picture.

The second is when you were craning your neck to give Luke a small kiss, the picture captured right before your lips touched, both of you smiling at the other with the same fond look in your eyes.

Your immediate reaction should have been a level three meltdown, your picture out there with Luke, officially, in an ESPN article of all places, but you were surprisingly calm. You should have been screaming and angry, having specifically told the photographer no pictures, but you couldn’t find that anger within yourself.

The pictures showcased yours and Luke’s love for each other so well, you wanted copies of them for yourself. Suddenly you didn’t care if people knew your name, or your face. You could care less if you were front and center on every hockey gossip page in existence.

All you cared about was the amount of happiness you saw on Luke’s face in the pictures, and how deeply you felt about him.

So, when Luke called you an hour later, panicked and telling you he was in the process of getting them taken down, you told him it didn’t matter. They didn’t need to be taken down, because you didn’t care if you had to stand naked in the middle of the rink during puck drop at his next game, you just wanted people to know you loved him with every ounce of your being.

Your aversion to attention be damned, seeing these pictures made you want to scream your love for him from the rooftop of the highest building in Jersey. You were still opposed to the idea of unwanted and unnecessary attention, but decided right here that there would be no more hiding. You were going to be there for Luke in any way he wanted or needed you from here on out. And if you happened to be caught in a few pictures on the way? Well, you guess you’ll just have to get them framed.

[nnight-dances]

BEAUTIFUL MONSTER

PAIRING: yoon jeonghan x afab!reader

GENRE: angst, smut, fluff in that order of significance

TROPES: workplace romance, boss!jeonghan x associate!you, casual fwb situation but they're not friends they're coworkers, intense banter, nakamoto yuta makes a cameo, toxic relationship at some point but it gets better trust me.

"beautiful monster" because in private, jeonghan is nothing short of an angel to you – charming and devious, teasing but all in good faith, in faith that he was interested in you. but in public, he's monstrous with his cold shoulder, his indifference to you like you weren't in his bed every night, humming him to sleep.

PS: what are you doing with your life if you haven't listened to beautiful monster yet???? go listen to the gift from god called this man from jeonghan x wonwoo okay bye ily

"what makes you think you can prance into my office all prettied up and not even say a hi to me?" 

you look up from the stack of paper you're holding, and innocently tilt your head. "sorry, boss," you accentuate the last syllable with a smile, "just trying to be as resourceful as i can be." 

"oh, come on," jeonghan swivels dangerously in his hefty desk chair, all just to show you the little ridiculous hint of a smirk on his lips. "you're not really mad about that?"

"about what, sir? i'm just doing justice to my position in my short time here, after all."

"you know, quoting things i said back at me isn't as effective of an attack as you think it is, y/n," he tells you, but you can tell he's a little worked up because he shifts a little in his seat. "cut the fucking attitude, princess, what's wrong?" 

you narrow your eyes at him, more so at his audacity to pull out the private nickname in your shared place of work in broad daylight. and on a wednesday no less. "nothing's wrong, mr. yoon. i'm just reflecting on your incredibly insightful speech at the meeting earlier. seems like i don't know you all that well."

"well, you do know me all that well, which is why deep down, you know that whatever i said it wasn't addressed to you." jeonghan stands up and you have to swallow the smug look that threatens to spill out. 

yoon jeonghan, the star employee at his company, didn't get out of his chair, not even to greet the most valuable client. yet here he was, walking to you, hand on your elbow, dangerously unprofessional. 

"must be really deep down because i don't think the man i know would be that cruel to our newest hire," you bite back, shaking his hold over you, "and perhaps it would've helped me interpret you better if you didn't address your grand speech to every low-level associate in the room."

"low-level–? y/n, you know that–"

you don't let him finish, sure he'd find a way to spin his words and get out of being held accountable for the shit he spewed two hours ago. well, you weren't gonna let him get his way, not this time. you bow politely, "good day, mr. yoon. let me know if i can assist you with any work-related matters." 

god, you could be vexing when you wanted to, jeonghan thought to himself watching you stride off in your unbelievably well-fitting pants. he does wonder how you manage to never show up to work covered in creases, what with all the running around you do, from his place to yours every morning. okay maybe every other morning, but it was impressive, the way your white shirts were always crisper than the morning coffee you handed him on your way to your desk, and the way he'd never managed to see your lipstick a smudge out of place in all the time he'd worked with you.

"where'd jenna go again?" you question out loud when you return to find the new hire out of her desk yet again. she'd been the reason jeonghan had burst into his impormptu but condescending talk and though he had some fair reason to speak the way he did, you didn't appreciate the hierarchical intimidation it encouraged. 

"um, i think she just took her fifth bathroom break of the day," muttered seulgi with a grimace. "every time she does that the number of files on my desk goes up."

"send 'em over, seulgi."

"what? no, you have more than enough on your plate–"

"my research and writing skills are what got me hired, so i might as well revisit my roots once in a while. plus, it's gonna take a while to replace jenna, if we're trying to find someone this late."

"all right then, i guess i'll bring these over to you then," seulgi says in an apologegtic tone as she plops a fresh set of files on your desk, which has managed to stay clear of any such physical copies of documents since last year when you convinced joshua to make the firm go paper-free.

well, mostly. except for monkey jobs like this one which usually went to inexperienced hires. but given the unfortunate situation you find yourself in, you have no choice but to ignore your strcitly digital policy to pull out your wooden pencil for the first time in a while.

it takes you long enough to get through half of the stack that jeonghan's done for the day and you haven't moved an inch. he pauses in front of your desk, taken aback at the sight of you reading through a physical file. and then he notices the empty desk down the line, one that should've held the redhead called jenna. 

"and since when did you start doing unpaid labor?"

you look up with a start and sigh when it's jeonghan. "good night, mr. yoon." 

"wow, that's cold. can't a superior worry about his precious protege's wellbeing? y/n, you're overqualified for this work so why don't you put it down and go home?"

your mouth twitches with a bitter comment you barely hold in. "i'm the best person for this job till we find someone else to do it. i'm also the only one with the balls to sit down and finish it on top of my own workload. so i'm sorry but i won't be putting this down just yet. did you want me to call driver choi for you?"

jeonghan blinks silently at you, realizing you weren't gonna listen to a word he said, not even if he was the only voice of reason in your vicinity right now. he shrugs, "i can see myself out. just be here on time tomorrow, we have an important case to discuss."

"as you wish," you nod cordially and return to your work. 

– 

jeonghan's up till four that night, which is when he hears you shuffle into his condo. he silently thanks his past self who decided to drop a spare key to his place when your visits had become a regular thing. 

you're pulling your hair out of the tight ponytail you'd kept it in all day and throw the tie on the nightstand, almost screaming out of your skin when you see jeonghan looking at you, propped up on his shoulder. 

"what the fuck– why are you still awake?"

"why are you mad at me?"

you ignore his question and start untuck your shirt from your pants, unbuttoning them. 

"oh my god, is this the day you finally have mad sex with me–?"

you give jeonghan an unimpressed smile as you let the pants drop and throw yourself into the empty space beside him, closing your eyes with a weary sigh. "wake me up at 6."

jeonghan being the devious idiot he is, only worsens with every second you don't address his words directly. he rolls closer to you, hand finding his place under your shirt, on your hot stomach. "babydoll, i'm sorry you had to work so late," he whispers as he presses a kiss to your skin. "but if you don't talk to me, i can't make things right."

"you can't make things right, period, jeonghan," you tell him, eyes still closed. the man wouldn't get any more of your energy than you could help. "i'll be back to normal if you just let me sleep."

"you're being mean, baby, just let me make it up to you, okay?"

"jeonghan, unless you can change who you are as a very human being, i don't think there's anything you can do," you strain, shoving him away, "i'm not about to throw a tantrum so don't worry. let me sleep if you want to have your best associate working for you tomorrow."

that seems to get the message across because he doesn't say another word. or maybe he does but you're too busy slipping into the sleep you desperately need after a crazy work day. jeonghan wakes you up with a solemn look on his face and you sit up in a panic, thinking something's gone wrong at work.

but then he says, "sorry, i overslept. it's 7. you'll have to wear the spare pair of clothes you keep here to work."

"i hate you," you shriek as you jump out of bed, rushing to freshen up in his bathroom as he nods and starts getting ready himself. he does seem like he's keeping to himself because usually, jeonghan would've made a few too many comments about how cozy and domestic it is for the two of you to be using the same mirror to get ready as if his place didn't have any other mirrors to use. he even lets you fix his tie without a snarky comment, just a little kiss on your cheek that you barely tolerate without a shake of your head. 

he watches you put on the makeup you keep in your purse for emergencies like this, but can't help muse over how much he must hate to the idea of losing you at work to be acting this obedient. you smile a little to yourself, pleased at least at his respect for you, if not his love. 

truth be told, you often regretted being in this strange more than coworkers but less than lovers situation you had with yoon jeonghan, your direct superior at work. but you were too deep in it to back out, too down bad for the man's charms to turn your back to him. 

it had started almost as soon as jeonghan had laid eyes on you, his private conversations with you always consisted of one too many suggestive comments and he somehow always managed to flirt with you without you truly registering it. by the time you recognized the unprofessional nature of your relationship with him, you were five kisses too late. late nights at the office turned into late nights at his place, because it was conveniently much closer to the office than yours. 

somewhere along the way, though, you had to face the harsh reality that no matter how sweet jeonghan could be when he was flirting with you, he was always going to be something of a beautiful monster. because in private, jeonghan is nothing short of an angel to you – charming and devious, teasing but all in good faith, in faith that he was helplessly into you. but in public, he's monstrous with his cold shoulder, his indifference to you like you weren't in his bed every night, humming him to sleep.  

the harsh reality you face that very morning when he calls you into his office. 

"morning how can i–," you start and then make eye-contact with the man seated on the sofa across from jeonghan. "oh, morning, mr. nakamoto! i didn't realize you were in town!"

nakamoto yuta laughs loudly at your hurried greeting, crossing his legs as he shamelessly checks you out. "oh, come now, call me yuta like the good old days, y/n! and where were you this morning when i was all over the place trying to find the famous yoon jeonghan's office."

"ah, i'm sorry i was a little late this morning–" you spare a glance at jeonghan smiling in his chair, "my cheap excuse of an alarm didn't go off on time. i really should get a new one."

"if you'd come to work for me like i asked, you wouldn't have to work at the ass crack of dawn y'know?" yuta raises a brow at you with a small grin and you tuck some hair behind your ear bashfully, not forgetting to observe how jeonghan is stiff in his seat. as stiff as a slick bastard like him could get anyway because you could've missed the glare he shot you when he stands up and crosses the room to yuta. 

he pauses next to you, cold hand coming to rest on your arm, a possessive gesture explicit enough for yuta to muse over. "i didn't realize you came in here to declare war over my best associate, yuta, or i would've prepared harder."

the japanese businessman laughs wholeheartedly, "sorry, han, you know i can't help myself these days. it's getting harder to find familar faces in the industry these days, what with all the incompetence that's cropping up." he sighs then with a glance in your direction, "still mad you came to work for this asshole over me."

you chuckle, letting down your guard a little at the man's sincere comment. "what would've been the point of working at your company when you'd always be across the globe, vacationing in some fancy hotel every other week?" you question with a smile, "anyway, don't lose hope, maybe i'll change career paths mid-life, so don't delete my resume from your system just yet."

"all right, i'll take that as a promise," yuta winks at you as you take your leave from the office. 

an hour or so later, you're summoned to jeonghan's office again, with a brief, "y/n, please." you suppress the urge to roll your eyes, knowing there wasn't any real need for you to be in the room with them except for yoon jeonghan's egoistic need to fuck with your head. 

"how can i help you?" you ask with your sweetest business smile and jeonghan stands up from the sofa next to yuta. he gestures to the other man with a glint in his eye, "y/n, mr. nakamoto says he has the rest of the day to himself before he heads out. i thought it'd be a waste to just let him roam on his own, why don't you accompany him?"

you blink blankly at jeonghan, taken aback at his thoughtless request. treating you like just another associate who worked under him was one thing, but treating you like his personal assistant who'd entertain his friends' whims was entirely another. 

and you know he realizes this because of how closely he's watching you, lips set in a lilt because he loves seeing his stupid little scenarios play out. yuta stands up when he senses the tension, "ah, don't bother y/n, han. i'm sure she has a lot of work to do. i'll just–"

"no, no, i insist," jeonghan pushes, only glancing at the man he was so earnestly trying to please. "you don't mind, do you, y/n?"

you inhale, sensing the challenge behind his words. the way he said it, it was almost inappropriate for work, the smirk and the way his eyes were all over you. but honestly, you hated his guts for trying to get you down like this. so if a challenge was what he wanted, then that'd be exactly what he was going to get. 

"not at all!" you start, a cheerful beam on your face that catches both men off their guards and you continue, "please, i was hoping for some time to catch up with mr. nakamoto– sorry, with yuta, anyway, so honestly, thank you, mr. yoon. i'll just go grab my stuff and meet you in the lobby?"

"oh– okay, sure thing," yuta mutters, glancing between you and jeonghan uneasily. you don't spare your boss another look as you leave his office and furiously pack your things into your purse, slinging it over your arm. "i won't be back today, seulgi, so don't text me unless everyone starts dropping dead while i'm gone."

–

"so you don't show up at work all day and then you ignore all my calls? i am your boss, y/n, you can't just blow me off whenever you please," jeonghan's voice is muffled on the other side, and you're guessing he's in his car, on the way back to his place. 

you, on the other hand, had been home for nearly three hours now after your little date with yuta, the man who'd walked around the city with your for a few hours before taking you out to a late lunch slash early dinner at the nicest place you'd been to in a while. so yes, you were in a good mood and honestly, hearing how mad jeonghan is on the line only makes you smile more. 

"oh, sorry, i didn't realize you were bipolar like that," you say in a pleased voice, "because last i remember you basically begged me to babysit your client for you."

"client?" jeonghan scoffs,  "you make it sound like you weren't sleeping with that guy for almost five years before i came along."

"well, i'm sleeping with you now and you don't hear me calling you anything but my boss to anyone."

"you're a real piece of work sometimes, aren't you?" the man snaps and then after a solemn pause, "what did you do with him all day, anyway?"

you chuckle softly, "can't disclose private matters like that i'm afraid. besides, i'm having real trouble understanding why you sound pissed at me when all i was doing was following your instructions."

"huh, that's funny, you want to get rewarded for running around with another man while i was banging my head at the wall all day today? don't ever try to pull shit like this again or–"

"or what, jeonghan? you're gonna fire me?" you ask, "how about you stop treating me like i'm the dirt on your shoe as soon as you're done using me for sex? i'm not your personal assistant that you can just order around to wet your friends' cocks whenever you fucking want, okay? or i'll be the one considering yuta's offer seriously." 

before jeonghan can have a chance to respond, you hang up on him, breathing deeply to calm yourself down. you take in your apartment, somewhat of an abandoned mess with all the nights you'd spend at jeonghan's. you felt guilty for own behavior, ignoring your own needs for so long that you'd forgotten what being respected really felt like. maybe what you needed was a real relationship.

–

"that's always been your problem, y/n," rina groans, "you always forget that there's men other than the ones you work with."

"ouch! you make it sound like i've only ever fucked my coworkers–"

"worse, your bosses–"

"okay, so it happened like twice! you're forgetting all the wholesome moments i had in high school," you warn her across the table with a fork. 

"you mean how you rejected any decent guy with genuine feelings for you in favor of chasing older men who didn't know your name?"

"i'll have you know i chased those old men because they were the ones who could get me the job i have today, so i won't apologize for doing what i had to do to have the career i wanted."

rina sighs, "that's not the problem. you could've networked with the people working in the industry and had a healthy relationship with someone your age. but you always got so emotionally attached to anyone who offered you advice that you didn't have time for anything else."

you stare at your coffee dejectedly, swallowing the hard truths your oldest friend was hurling at you. cruel as she was, you knew she wasn't going to sugarcoat things for you, not when you dragged her all the way across town on a saturday to have lunch with you when she had a million other things lined up with her upcoming wedding.

"i don't know how you do it, rina," you mumble, "you've a stable job, a beautiful home, and a doting fiance. god, that's like three worlds apart from the dump of a reality i live in."

"okay, now that's just untrue, y/n," rina scolds you softly, shaking her head, "plus, you have the first two things on that list."

"i have a job, but my place is far from home. i don't even sleep in it most days, plus, i think the last factor on the list kinda trumps everything else by a lot."

"well, who is that on anyway? it's not like you're undesirable or fucked up, you know?"

you groan, "what should i do, rina?"

"find someone who doesn't work the same 100 hour work week as you might be a start? maybe then you can stop treating your boss like a god."

"rina, you don't understand," you complain, "i know i make it sound too good to believe, but he's the smoothest talker you'll ever see and god, don't even get me started on how good he is in bed–"

"y/n, it's not the man's dick that matters, it's his heart," rina interrupts and when she doesn't burst out laughing like you do, you stop with a questioning look. "i'm serious, dude, you're not gonna be in it for the sex like 10 years down the line when everything hurts, inside and out. trust me, the minute you meet even a remotely normal man with reasonable expectations from life, you'll know what i mean–"

"that's the problem–" you start to explain your own beliefs when a head in your periphery catches your eye. "fuck me," you groan immediately when you realize who's sitting about two tables away from you.

"come on, y/n, i just talked to you about this, you can't be thinking about–"

"no, no, listen, don't look right now, but…" you trail off in disbelief and then force yourself to finish, "but my fucking boss is sitting to our left."

"you mean the fucking boss… you're… fucking?"

"yeah, that one…"

a few beats pass as rina slowly takes a look at the man across from you, hair down from the low ponytail it usually found itself in. at the perfect timing, jeonghan laughs at something the lady across from him says, hair bouncing to reveal his flawless features. 

"wow, he looks like nothing like you've described him as–"

"what, i've been going on for hours about–"

"about his charm, not how drop-dead gorgeous he is! i've been imagining some greasy old douche, not this tall glass of water…"

"first of all, your lack of trust in my taste in men is truly offensive… and–"

rina interrupts you, for the nth time in every conversation that you've ever had with her. "–it's worth mentioning that your taste in men is walking toward us as we speak–" 

"what…" you look up all too suddenly to find the man a few steps away, sly smirk in place as he approached you. 

"hello there, ladies," he starts in a low amused smile and god, if you could strangle him or yourself into silence just there you would've but instead you match his smile. 

"oh– hi, mr. yoon, i didn't expect to run into you here," you laugh it off with a pointed look at him, hoping he'd have the common decency to fuck off when you were clearly with a friend on one of your only days off. 

but you should know better because jeonghan will never give up a chance to open his mouth, especially in front of a stranger he hasn't had the chance to charm yet. 

"and neither did i! but here i am, with my lovely coworker and her…" his eyes dance over to rina who flushes under his gaze by the slightest, "gorgeous friend?"

you roll your eyes at the question and don't think it worth mentioning, especially when you're too busy choking yourself over his description of you as a 'coworker'. yeah, right. 

"right, we were just–"

"talking about the guy who's interested in y/n!" rina chimes in, her grin saying she thinks she's helping you but you kick her under the table, warning her to cut it off. 

"what–"

"huh, what's that again?" jeonghan asks, smile momentarily faltering at rina's comment. 

"ah, you know, y/n's just been so popular with guys since i've known her but she's never had time to settle down. but this guy's just been dying to meet her and when she called me to lunch today, i thought she'd finally be ready to meet the man of her dreams."

"the man of my dreams?" you choke yet again over a strangled laugh, "rina, you're really funny. you know i have nothing of that sort–"

"oh, come on," rina brushes you off with a scrunch of her nose and turning to jeonghan who seemed immersed in the bullshit your best friend was spewing. "she's just too shy to talk about it but– she told me, too drunk off her ass to remember, she'd only want to marry a man who was desperately head over heels for her, gives up everything to be with her, just to see her smile–"

"rina, i think–"

"and oh, what was it that you said? he needs to be able to think what i think before i've thought it? i'm not even looking at him if he doesn't worship the ground i walk on?? wow, y/n, you were full of it back then, weren't you?"

you redden, out of words at this point, half-mad she was yapping and half-mad at yourself for actually having said all the shit she was yapping. yes, god knows you did say everything she was saying, and there was a blurry video on your phone proving it somewhere. rina'd known you wouldn't believe a word without proof, so she'd recorded it without you realizing.

jeonghan's looking at you when you look up from your lap and rina cuts in again, "but you can't be to blame, now, can you? your parents always treated you like a princess, and your brother basically acted like your bodyguard until you moved out… i'd be full of myself too if i grew up like that."

you inhale deeply as you glare at rina, slowly standing up, "um, i think we should go soon or we'll miss the movie. right, rina?" you force your words out so rina can recognize you're not kidding. 

"y/n, can i talk–"

"sorry," you cut jeonghan off, too, head reeling too hard to respond to anything that man's got to say to you, "i really have to rush but if it's something urgent, why don't you just leave a voicemail? i'll get to it on monday."

"ooooh, that was hot," rina whispers into your shoulder as the two of you pay the bill and head out. "god, did i love torturing the two of you in there. and honestly, serves him good–"

"what the fuck was that?"

"what the fuck was what? i was just showing that bastard what you actually deserve," rina snaps, eyes wide, "you might not remember what you're made of, y/n, but i do and i'm not gonna watch as you let that asshole use you. he can realize what your standards are or he can find someone else to fuck with. not my best friend."

"...rina," you stop in your tracks, rina's words finally starting to make sense in retrospect, "you're—"

"okay, please don't get emotional on me, i have a movie to catch and you know i can't focus if i'm tired."

– 

that very night, you come out of the shower to your phone blowing up, stifling a smile when you see jeonghan's name plastered over your notifications. after a thought to it, you pick up.

"what?" you take on your most indifferent tone.

"wow, that's cold," jeonghan's voice is clear this time. he's at home. "you can really be a stranger sometimes, baby."

"it's not hard, i just pretend i'm you at work," you tell him with a petty smile he can't see but most definitely hears because he immediately scoffs.

"listen, i didn't call to fight you, okay? i just want to talk. i–" he stops abruptly as if out of breath and then, softly, "i'm sorry."

that's a first. 

"i didn't quite catch that, mind repeating what exactly you're sorry for?"

you hear his sigh loud and clear, "y/n, let me make it up to you. i'm sorry i've been an asshole to you, especially at work. won't you come over?"

"no, i won't. i have some beauty sleep to catch up on."

"then, i'll come over. but please, let me in. and i don't mean into your place, i mean into your mind. i know you want a grandiose dream man but i can't read your mind just yet, so just let me… let me understand you better." after a beat of silence, he punctuates his words with a "please?"

"...you know where i live?"

"wasn't born yesterday, princess. give me 10 and i'll be there. make sure you're wearing clothes."

he hangs up on you and you barely have a moment to yourself to calm your intense hearbeat and equally chaotic thoughts after what jeonghan just said. i can't read your mind just yet. just yet? did he intend to??? intend to what, become to man of your dreams???? 

as much as you internally cringe at the thought, your cheeks are flushed when you let jeonghan that night, watching carefully as he took his shoes off, wearing a strangely casual grey hoodie and sweatpants. somehow you'd only ever seen him in his suit. or without it. 

he looks at you for a moment too long, and then his hand comes to carress your hair gently, "hmm, never seen you with your wet hair down."

"what do you want, jeonghan?" you cross your arms.

"you know sometimes i think i prefer you call me mr. yoon over jeonghan. you sound like you're going to kill me in my sleep when you say jeonghan."

"or i could just kick you out of my apartment. my landlord takes break-ins very seriously."

"alright, alright," jeonghan backs off, keeping his hands to himself, "can i at least have some water first? nervous to be all alone in your place with you."

you narrow your eyes at him and when he just shrugs, you gestures to the kitchen. "you can figure out how to pour yourself, can't you?"

"y/n, i–" he takes a gulp of the water, and then sighs, "i want to take you out. like a proper boyfriend."

"that's crazy because unfortunately, i don't have any time to be going out with anyone right now."

"if you're going to lie about your work committments, maybe don't do it to my face? our schedules are basically married so i know exactly when you're free."

"oh, i see what's happening," you throw yourself on your couch with a mirthless laugh, "you're blackmailing me into dating you, aren't you? don't worry i won't go around spilling the tea about your kinks in bed if you just leave me alone, mr. yoon."

"okay i lied, it's infinitely worse when you call me that. how about just calling your sweet angel, han, huh? no, okay? listen, y/n, i'm serious. i want to be more than your toxic boss who you have mindblowing sex with."

"you are–"

"i'm not saying this for any of the ulterior motives you're trying so hard to think of. believe it or not, i'm into you, y/n, and when you left me hanging for like three days straight, i couldn't stop thinking of you. and well, i did miss the sex, but what i missed more than anything was hanging out with you. spending time with you." 

"...what if i'm not into you like that?" you ask with a quirked brow, not quite satisfied with the case he was presenting. he stood still across from you at your kitchen counter, breathing shallow though you weren't certain why.

"that would be fair but i'm asking you to give us a chance because i know i've never had a connection with someone like i do with you. our stupid banter, your witty ways to save my life at work and outside before i can anticipate them, and of course, our amazing chemistry in bed– y/n, i never will find something like this again. and you can say i'm full of myself, but neither will you."

if you were slowly starting to doubt that it really was yoon jeonghan in front of you confessing his love to you, you don't anymore when he adds that last arrogant part in. "you're awfully confident for someone who was blowing my phone up an hour ago," you tell him, looking away, "but honestly, jeonghan, i'm getting old, okay? i don't think i have time to play your games anymore. i'm gonna find myself a decent man and settle—"

"you hearing yourself? you're gonna settle?" jeonghan's crosses over to you, sitting on your coffee table and before you can tell him off, he takes both of your hands in his with the tenderness of a man that you've never seen him capable of being. "i know i'm not the most promising prospect of a boyfriend, let alone a husband, but i'm willing to change. not even change, i'm just going to stop pretending to be a little bitch to you at work because honestly it was killing but i was doing it to protect myself from getting too attached to you. but it's too late. i'm down bad for you, y/n."

"and i may not be the decent man you're looking for, but i can assure i love you more than anyone on the market. because i know you like nobody else can, and i'm going to stick by you no matter what."

you take a breath and hold it just to test if you're dreaming but then jeonghan drops his head into your hand, letting your fingers into his soft hair. "just give me a chance, y/n. i'm… nothing without you." his voice is small now, his charming self who showed up to rooms full of busy people to give them a pitch of their life long gone. he was just a man right now, pleading you to let him in so you could both have a real shot at loving each other. 

you pull your hands out of jeonghan's clutch, watching his expression turn into one of panic but you silence him by bringing them to his face, gingerly guiding his eyes to yours. he blinks back, pure and solemn. "where was this guy when i was begging to be held for the past week?" you wonder, half to yourself, "and before you apologize, it's okay. i… haven't been a saint myself. it was unfair to not give you the short end of the stick when i'd given you the impression it was all good and fine until now."

"but you have to know how little i feel when you treat me without respect at work– not just because you're my boss, but because i care about what you think of me… as a person. i want to be with you, to love you. so if you can be real with me like this, i think we can make it work."

jeonghan kisses your hand softly, "i'm sorry. i– i will do better. and just to be sure, that was a yes?"

"yes."

"yes, you'll be my girlfriend, my one and only lover, the apple of my eye, the prettiest sight since the moon was revealed?"

"...yes. and flattery is not one the list of real qualties," you tell him despite the blush that colors you. 

"really? it's a good thing that i meant every single thing i just said then, isn't it?" he leans closer, breath hot against your already hot face. "can i kiss you then, love?"

the new nickname only makes you more dazed and you nod with a mewl, meeting jeonghan's lips halfway. he kisses you like he's never before — without a hint of urgency, like he could kiss you for the rest of his life and not regret a moment. he's slow and intentful, eyes fluttering and breath heavy, almost like his heart was wreaking as much of a havoc as yours was in your chest. 

you press a hand to his chest, reassured by the heat of beat that meets you, and he pulls away in surprise at your motion. jeonghan's flushed and speechless like he's never been, just watching you through his lashes, out of breath. 

you look down at his body, taking in his tall figure cramped in the little space between the two of you. his legs cage yours on either side, knees meeting your thighs, and his arms resting gently on your waist. it's like his body's swallowing you whole, and thought heats you up in a way that has you tearing up. 

when you hide your face in your hands out of the blue, jeonghan's large hands find yours, cooing them away. "what's wrong?"

"overwhelmed…" you tell him in a tiny voice, "i've– you never… you've never been so gentle with me. i feel like i'm going to break."

"that's ironic, isn't it," he asks softly but not mockingly. "you're so precious, i can't believe i haven't done this sooner. i guess i was always in such a hurry to feel your skin before time ran out… before it was too late… or something? either way, i'm here to stay now so let's take it slow."

"so you'll kiss me like that again?" you ask, looking at your intertwined hands. he squeezes back. 

"you liked that? let me see your lips again, i'm never not doing that again."

you giggle at his enthusiastic reaction, his lips already a breath away from yours, feeling your sounds in his whole being like he'd been starved. he kisses you again, not letting go till you pull away with a gasp. "god, i need air, han, you'll kill me at this rate."

jeonghan's too busy peppering your skin with more kisses, "good, you're back to calling me han. and as for needing air, we'll just have to do that a lot so you can build up a stamina."

—

"love it when you do that, god–" jeonghan's all over his own words, trying to get them out as soon fast as possible, "can you say it again? i'm gonna record it–" 

"han," you warn him in a stiff voice, "tell me you didn't just walk out of a meeting to come ask me to say– i'm not saying it, okay? so let go of my hand before seulgi comes back and you'll still have a reputation around here."

"no, you can't do this to me, babe," he's whining now and it'd be great for your ego if you couldn't see the room full of people waiting for him to get back so he could continue the meeting. "just tell me what you told rina about the dates i take you on and then i'll be out of your hair."

"first of all, you were never supposed to hear any of that," you push jeonghan away when he protests dangerously close to your face, "and second, if you want to have a girlfriend at the end of the day, you're gonna walk away from my desk and go back to your doing your job. okay, han? i can't do this now, let's talk at night."

"...fine. if you agree to sleep over at mine."

"done. now go."

"and you'll hold hands when we walk–"

"go."

he turns around obediently not before throwing a flying kiss in your direction and you truly have to wonder how he ever managed to act so uptight with you at work when he can be hopeless like this. 

"i'll have you know," he whines that night when you're coddling him in his bed, "that i'm that hopeless only because i'm head over heels for you. i love you, love, and i can't stop loving you, even if a bunch of suited assholes want to find ways to keep me apart from you."

"a bunch of suited assholes is your job description, angel," you laugh into his chest, "and god, you need to stop doing that at work. at least find a room if you want to be all up in my personal space, okay?"

"reserve a room just so we can make out? hmm, not a bad idea—"

"that is the exact opposite of what i was suggesting–"

"and yet here i am, with the great idea in my brain. noted, princess likes risky sex at work. thrill of getting caught? or is–"

"when did making out turn into risky sex?"

"you know i can never stop at just that once i've started," he says, kissing your forehead and you hit his face softly. "liar. big words from someone who refused to do anything but kiss me all night last night, and the night before that, and what about the time we went to dinner that time? oh, right, you didn't even kiss me."

"are you mad i'm being mindful of my pace?" jeonghan asks with a half smile, seriously concerned when you bring it up.

"no, i'm just shocked at the change up from when all you could think about was where and how we were gonna fuck."

"well, be assured that i still think about fucking you anywhere and everywhere at all times, but i'm more than that man now. i've got boyfriend worries now, 'kay? i want to savor every single thing we do, every date i take you on, and every small adorable thing you do. i'm not doing it the casual way. it's either all or nothing."

"you're scary when you're in love," you marvel with a sweet smile, "but full disclosure on my part, han, but i kind of need you to fuck my mind out because i'm literally dying here."

jeonghan goes still, pulling away to look at your face, amazed at the filth you could spawn with the purest smile on your lips. when he catches the glint of desperation in your eye though, he's switching control immediately, over to the jeonghan he'd managed to suppress so expertly to focus on treating you right. 

"damn it, you're gonna be the death of me, looking at me like that–" he's on top of you in a split second, his hair brushing the nape of your neck where he dives into your skin. "wasn't gonna ruin you again till i really had to, but fucking hell, woman, you know how to work a guy up."

"i can tell," you murmur, hands roaming all over his body, finding the hard bulge in his boxers all to familiar. "had to provoke you, y'know my fingers aren't enough."

jeonghan lets out an ungodly sound at your words, and you revel in the way he's coming undone, the way you've managed to push all the wrong buttons. to be fair, was it really wrong if it drove jeonghan to give you the best head he'd ever given you? 

when he rises from between your legs, you kiss him hard, tasting yourself on his tongue, and stealing his breath when you push him over so you could straddle him. "let me return the favor?" you lick your lips to really seal the deal.

"you–" he groans when you don't wait to pull his boner out of its restraints, smiling ever so demurely like he'd presented you with new clothes or a ticket to your favorite show. when you take a lick at his tip, he twitches, hands in your hair forcing you away from his dick. 

"--can't–" he's hardly comprehensible but he manages to get his request out, "can't take it for much longer. need to be inside you."

"thought you'd never ask, hannie," you gasp innocently and jeonghan swears he's already seeing stars from the nickname you only pull out on the verge of your orgasms. he's spewing all sorts of obscenities when you sheath him in your warm pussy, and you make sure you take in the sight before you. 

jeonghan's glittering with sweat, lips wonderfully swollen and eyes rolled back in his head with the height of pleasure he was feeling. he looked like an angel, even when he was so fucked out, chest deliciously hard against your touch and his voice contrastingly in its sweet chorus of your name. he was doing much of the work even though you were riding him, long fingers trailing from your boobs to clasp your waist so he could have perfect control of your body.

when he's close, he swallows a whine and you clench around him just to rip the sound out of his throat, the moan halfway between a scream and a song to your ears. that alone brings you close with jeonghan's thumb at your clit really bringing you to the edge. 

"come for me, hannie," you elicit another heavenly sound from him, "please, let me feel you inside me." 

"i'm coming, y/n, fuck!" he bites his own tongue and then gives up when you keep going, "fuck, fuck, fuck, i'm going to– fuckk–"

you both fall over with the wave of pleasure that hits your bodies, elevated ever more when each of you feels the others heat. it takes a minute of panting for you to feel your heartbeat in your chest and see jeonghan's limp body under yours. you roll over so your back can hit the cold sheets. 

you genuinely black out a little from the exhaustion because when you come to, jeonghan's between your legs with a warm towel cleaning you up. he looks up when you sit up with an unspeakable look in his eyes. he crawls over, voice hoarse as his lips meets yours. "i think you just changed my life, y/n, that was amazing."

"it was, i think i was on another planet for a hot minute there…" you say, oddly nervous with jeonghan's body touching yours as if you hadn't been all over each other a second ago. 

"you were… unbelievable. i've never been that gone before, y'know? you might've broken me… all that after i promised to be nothing but a gentleman to you." jeonghan sighs a little with a shake of his head.

"sorry, angel," you run a hand through his hair, feeling him relax under your touch, "i was pent up, what from fighting with you and then suddenly becoming all lovey dovey. for what it's worth, i think we just upped fucking game. and it's probably because we aren't lying to each other anymore."

"probably because you're all mine now," he says victoriosly, kissing your hand like he did the night he'd come to your place to beg you to take a shot at a life with him. you're so glad you did because you couldn't imagine another place where you'd feel this way, completely like yourself and nothing like yourself. 

"always have been," you assure him as you press a kiss to the back of his neck, throwing your hands around his shoulders. you liked to hug him to sleep, like you'd always yearned to every time you unwittingly fell asleep next to him. he shifts closer so your legs touch and you feel his lips graze your wrist lovingly, pressing kisses to the warm skin till you'd drifted into a deep sleep.

NOTE:

still not sane about that instagram update from jeonghan because those images of him have me feeling like this: 🤭🧍‍♀️😧🌀🥵😇🖐️🫦🙁 if you know what i mean. i will be crying about it for the next few days till i can think straight so that's that!

honest to god, somebody restrain me from writing and thinking about this man because i’m genuinely unwell about him. genuinely this is a cry for help. i told myself i wasn't going to write another jeonghan fic (see: the 50 wips i have waiting that involve not jeonghan) but here i am. speedwrote this in less than 2 days and took 2 hours to select the header icons and they still suck. self-indulgent content as always but anyway, i think i will die thinking about yoon jeonghan so here's my small contribution to anyone else who feels anything similar to me. i hope you enjoy and please i love hearing your thoughts so any reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

[mv1simp]

I love it you last smut with max!!! I would love some more about sucking him off and he film you while he praises you.

Thank you so much💖💖💖💖💖💖

I gotchu anon here u go 🫶🫶

Popular ♥️

Max Verstappen x Enemy Reporter!Reader

money on top of me, money on top of her, yeah, shawty fuck with me ‘cause she know I’m popular

As Sky Sport’s latest F1 reporter, you’re determined to do whatever it takes to stand out amongst the crowd. You’re notorious for your ability to make Mad Max break out of his media trained facade, all your interviews with him going viral. But after his 10th PR debriefing over you, Max has had enough. Next time, it was your turn to be in front of the camera.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, filming, enemies to lovers , blowjobs, size kink, dom! Max and brat!reader 😼, 4k WC

And there you have it folks, another disappointing 2nd place for Redbull’s golden boy for the 3rd race in a row here in Spa, you say into the microphone with a smirk. Let’s go directly to him now, shall we?

Walking over to the post race media room, you make your way to the primary interviewer position, right on the front row, ignoring the jealous stares from other reporters scattered in the rows behind you. You’re chatting to your cameraman, instructing him to make sure he gets your good side, please, I don’t want to be on Channel 3 looking like a rat compared to these model drivers again when the podium winners walk in. Max Verstappen’s ice blue eyes immediately narrow as they lock onto yours, and he has to resist the scowl that threatens to appear on his face. He fucking hated your boss for always sending you - his most aggravating reporter - to make any bad race Max has even worse.

To the left of him, Charles and Lewis shared an amused glance as they watch their fellow pilot shoot daggers at you, who in turn greeted him with a predatory smile that would put a great white shark to shame. You decide to toy with your food a bit, turning your gaze to the other drivers, welcoming them sweetly and asking how they found the race. The many cameras on Max’s face didn’t fail to pick up how the so called flying Dutchman continued to stare at you brazenly as he contemplated your tumultuous history.

It wasn’t that you were a bad reporter. If anything, Max thought you had a knack for matching your questions to the athlete that you interviewed, and spoke in a charismatic and engaging way that had most of the grid happily stop on a race weekend to chat with you. You always made an effort to get genuine stories from the drivers, compared to many other news outlets, and it had been noticed amongst the grid, who preferred you as one of the reporters they engaged with - making you quickly skyrocket in popularity with viewers and establish yourself as a front row media figure. And it certainly helped that you were easy on the eyes, quickly become a familiar sight in well picked classy but flattering outfits to suit the Grand Prix locations.

Max could still remember the first time he saw you - dressed in a long sleeved, full length crimson dress that flattered your shorter figure, with long, dark curls framing your face and full lips as you laughed at something your colleague had said. He’d noticed you immediately in the media room, a pretty figure amongst the usual crowd, even going so far as to ask his PR manager who you were. But for all your charming media skills or cute outfits, you had made an enemy very quickly out of Max Verstappen the moment you opened your glossed lips and asked him how he felt after crashing into Hamilton’s car, yet going onto celebrate 1st on the podium while Lewis had to be taken to hospital.

It was almost a complete personality switch. While the other drivers got your thoughtful questions, Max was repeatedly hit with the most provoking shit from you. It was like you knew exactly what to say to turn him into that seething, infamous Mad Max, brows furrowed and a scowl on his face as he scoffed out replies to your invading questions. To your credit, you were able to elicit a lot more information and honesty from Max than other reports could, despite his angry tone. And while others backed down immediately when the reigning world champion started to get agitated, you would just lock in with a deceivingly innocent smile and escalate your questions.

Social media absolutely loved it, making endless videos of you interviewing Max go viral, countless memes emerging every post race debrief when you would ask some ridiculous question and Max would respond with something equally ridiculous, often resulting in back and forth bickering. It had gotten to the point where Max had had over ten - ten! - interventions with his own PR team who had begged him to please just ignore your provoking statements, just rise above, don’t engage -

Fuck that. Max Verstappen wasn’t a coward that backed down from a fight - but at the same time, he didn’t want to give in and give you what you wanted. He knew your type - just a clout chaser, going after him specifically as he was the fastest driver on the grid and would get you the most views. He was no stranger to being hated on and antagonised after toppling the Mercedes winning streak. His attention draws back to the present as he sees you finally turn to him, tilting your head coyly as you open those deceivingly sweet lips of yours again. That was some incredible driving out there today, Verstappen you say innocently, making Max narrow his eyes again as he didn’t buy it for a second. Incredibly dirty, some may say - judging by the 5 point penalty the stewards gave you. Why do you think you struggle to race wheel to wheel fairly?

Max felt his jaw clench at your provoking accusation. Behind him, his PR manager sighed and already started trying out a draft Instagram thirst trap that would hopefully do some damage control as Max heatedly dismissed your statements, insulting the steward’s decision in the process. This was going to be a long, long afternoon.

Max sighed, rolling out the tension in his neck as he sank down in the VIP area of the Monaco club, sculling his G&T. Beside him, Lando laughed at the sorry sight the current F1 champion had been reduced to after last weekend’s post race debrief had, as usual, gone viral due to a certain crafty reporter who had played the hotheaded Redbull driver like a fiddle. Mate, you let her wind you up too much, Lando said, smirking. It’s just classic journalist clickbait, you’ve dodged shit like that hundreds of times. Why do you keep letting her get inside your head?

Max didn’t respond, choosing to slam down his first glass and pick up a second G&T. Lando leaned in conspiratorially. Don’t tell me you secretly have the hots for her, mate. Is that why you two are always going at it? Too much sexual tension? She’s pretty fit and all, but you could easily get any hotter chick -

This time Max turns to glare at Lando, his furrowed brows clearly telling him to fuck off. Lando throws his hands up in mock defense, Just jokes, just jokes. But hey, speak of the devil and she shall appear. He says, looking behind Max and letting out a low whistle. And damn, the devil didn’t come to play tonight, that dress should be illegal. I get it the appeal now Max-

Rolling his eyes, the older blonde driver finishes his drink and stands up, telling Lando to come find it when he’s done being a prick. Striding off to the opposite end of the club, he doesn’t bother looking in your direction even once. He’d had enough of your annoying presence on the track to be able to deal with it off it.

Across the neon dance floor, you laugh cheerfully with your friends, cheersing to shots together. Tossing your shot glass back, you reach for another, hoping your friends don’t notice the disappointed flicker on your face when you had heard Lando’s laugh from the VIP section, only to look up and see Max’s wide shoulders disappear off into the crowd, no doubt leaving the club as soon as he saw you.

Honestly, you couldn’t blame him, you thought glumly. You weren’t entirely sure just how the dynamics between you too had ended up so rife with tension. You had been so excited to interview the Dutch champion for the first time, spending ages picking out your most flattering outfit and matching gold accessories, and had even picked the perfect question to let him showcase his empathy. You had a soft spot for the driver racing with the MV33 tag growing up as you related to having strict parents yourself. Seeing Max shine at such a young age against much older, experienced competition had been so cool you’d instantly become a fan. So you had asked him about his infamous crash into the reigning champion, Lewis Hamilton, hoping to give him an chance to share his side of the story about how he was forced to continue the race due to team orders - but instead found yourself at the end of a scathing reply from the older athlete.

It’s always the people who have never been behind the wheel of a race car who have the most to say, Max had replied that day, on live TV with a condescending look, I don’t tell you how to be an influencer and you shouldn’t tell me how to be a driver, okay sweetheart?

You had flushed, too embarrassed to even stutter out a reply, and as another reporter mercifully took over you excused yourself from the room. The memory of your first F1 interview still radiated crystal clear in your mind and brought you back to the present as your friends waved their hands in your face to get your attention. Oh yeah, that’s right - that’s why you hated the cocky Dutch driver, you thought darkly, tossing back another shot. And why you’d never do him the service of being a courteous reporter to him ever again.

Vowing to put all thoughts of your biggest annoyance to the back of your mind, you let yourself be dragged onto the dance floor. For the next 3 hours you drink and dance, celebrating the start of the summer break. You slipped away from the group at one point to go to the bathroom. You’re walking back down the dim hallway to the club when a hand reaches out to tap your shoulder, and you turn around to find a guy you’d seen eyeing you up earlier grinning a bit too sleazily at you, introducing himself as Rossi and asking if he can buy you a drink. Politely rejecting him, you turn back around but he grabs your arm this time, spouting some bullshit about playing hard to get, huh, dressed like that?

You scowl, immediately turned off, and forcefully twist his arm around and push him away, telling him very firmly to piss off. He look startled at your reply, and you roll your eyes at his performance before moving away but apparently this asshole just couldn’t take a hint, cause this time he grabs both your shoulders and pushing you into the wall. You’re starting to get a little panicked now, knowing you two are in a quieter hallway and the shots you had taken earlier have caught up and made you weaker -

Then he’s all but thrown off of you, crashing into the opposite wall in a display of pure strength. I’m pretty sure she told you to fuck off, cunt. Keep your hands off of her.

You’d recognize that deep Dutch accent anywhere. Your jaw drops as you look up to see Max Verstappen’s back, dressed in a fitted white tee, now standing in between you and Rossi. Peeking over his broad shoulders on your tip toes, using your small hands to grasp Max’s bicep and steady yourself on your heels, you see Rossi angrily stalk towards Max, opening his mouth - then close it as he realises he’s much shorter and this was a dumb idea. Max smirks as he watches the other man sulkily storm away. He turns around, an almost gentle look on his face as he asks you okay, schat? Are you hurt?

You stare up at him, a little dazed by how handsome Max looks in this lighting and how hot it had been seeing Max protect you. The driver’s gaze turns to your hand, where your pink manicured nails are still holding onto his large bicep. Flushing, you move your hand and stutter out an affirmation that you’re fine, don’t worry, thanks so much -

Max hmms in response, pulling back from your space and immediately making you miss his warmth. You shouldn’t wander away from your friends all alone, he says, It’s not safe. Especially for someone your size.

His steely blue eyes are raking up and down your petite form, sending butterflies swirling but you’re also annoyed at his condescending tone. I had it handled, you say defensively, crossing your arms and looking away, missing how Max’s gaze flickers to your tits which are now pushed up.

Yeah, I’m sure you had it handled, he snorts. What were you going to do, throw one of your heels at him? Seriously, you need to be able to protect yourself better if you’re going to go out looking like this.

He pointedly glances at the glittery mini dress you had on, with a sweetheart halter neckline, ending mid thigh with matching lace up strappy heels. A perfect club outfit, the gold matching your tanned skin, and brought to you by Versace.

What the fuck, Verstappen you hiss, seething as he immediately ruins the two seconds of tranquility you two had shared. Why do you always have to be so goddamn misogynistic? Blaming the woman’s choice of outfit? Seriously? You’re no better than that creep Rossi!

Your voice starts to rise as you glare up at him defiantly. Suddenly, loud voices make you both look down the corridor as some clubgoers start approaching. Not done with your argument but not wanting another PR fiasco all over Page 6 tomorrow, Max grabs your waist and pulls you into one of the staircases leading upstairs.

You end up on a private, dark balcony overlooking the quiet Monaco marina. The club’s bass vibrates through the walls against where a small sofa rests with an ashtray nearby, designating it as an intimate smoking area.

Max slams the door behind you two, locking it for good measure as you whirl back around, still keyed up. You’re comparing me to that piece of shit? Seriously? Max scoffs, rolling his eyes and resuming your argument. Let me guess, tomorrow morning you’ll conveniently have a new headline about how I hate women and I’m a misognistic pig, blah blah blah.

You glare at his dismissal, stepping closer to back him up into the door behind him. Well, aren’t you Verstappen? What do you expect me to wear, sweatpants? It’s a fucking club, everyone dresses like this! The first time I ever interviewed you, you literally thought I was some random makeup obsessed influencer when I’m an Oxford educated journalist!

I know that now! Max snaps. You just asked me about the one thing I didn’t want to talk about and I got mad. I didn’t realize you were going to bite my head off every interview after that and just use me to to blow up online!

You pause, then begrudgingly mutter that you supposed you’d dragged out the grudge a touch longer than necessary. It was the Leo in you, after all. But Max wasn’t done - Fuck, all I meant was you look good tonight and a lot of guys have been checking you out, so just watch out, okay?

Your eyes widen at the unexpected compliment, as althought you had always found him attractive, you’d never thought Max found you to be. Oh, you say, unable to hold back the blush in your face. Thank you. I owe you one, I guess.

You realize in the heat of the moment you had pushed right up against him, your soft chest up against his toned abs - giving him the perfect view as you calmed down from your heaving breaths. Max’s eyes darkened as you glanced from your chest up to his eyes, realising the compromising position as well and biting your lip.

Well, you could start by apologising to me, he says with a smirk as he pushes off the door, making you stumble back towards the sofa. That’s bullshit, Verstappen. I already said thank you. If you’re just gonna be a dick again I’m leaving, you respond automatically, but you let him continue to gently guide you back.

We both know you could have left anytime you wanted, schatje, Max breathes, bending down to your level as you come to a stop in front of the sofa, his lips grazing your ear and making your pussy throb from how goddamn sexy he sounded. Fuck, you were down bad. He grins cockily, not missing how you gasped sweetly and squeezed your plush thighs together at his words. Your gazes meet heatedly, and he finally ends the agonising tension by tilting your head up and joining your lips in a deep kiss.

You moan into it, his tongue swiping across yours skilfully and sending sparks shooting down to your pussy which was getting wetter by the second. Max pulls back, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your glossed lips. Why don’t you be a good girl for once and apologise to me nicely, yeah?

You refuse to budge. I’m not saying shit, Verstappen you say brattily. Just try and make me. Max smirks as you seal your fate. Let’s put that filthy mouth of yours to good use for once, he commands, and next thing his strong hand is pushing you down to your knees, making you come face to face with a very sizeable bulge. You gasp, looking up at him as he unbuckles himself, the clink of his belt buckle audible even over the thumping bass. His thick, veiny cock bounces out and lands across your pouting face with a smack. He grins as your eyes go wide at his size, jaw dropped as you begin to salivate at the sight. You’d definitely has one (or two) wet dreams like this - not that you would ever admit it to him.

God, you’re such a fucking slut, practically drooling for it already, huh? He teases condescendingly. You moan when he smacks your chubby cheeks with his warm length. I’m not, you whine, Stop being such a bully-mmmfhh!

He shuts up your pathetic whinging by nestling his tip against your pretty pink lips. Go on then, he mocks. You owe me one, right? Help me relax after all the stress you caused me last weekend.

You huff, still glaring at him through your dark lashes but obediently swipe a kitten lick across his leaking cockhead. Mmm, he tasted so good, you could easily see yourself become addicted. You move down his shaft, leaving teasing, gentle kisses and lipgloss marks along his length. He clenches his jaw at your deliberate teasing, telling you to quit it, but you just smirk and suckle on the very end, moving your tongue in circles to overstimulate his sensitive tip. Max moans, his hips bucking forward involuntarily but he quickly regains control and tangles a strong hand through your curls, dragging you forward to nestle in between his wide legs as he settles back comfortably on the sofa. I need to teach you some goddamn manners, huh?

You squeal from the rough treatment, your hands automatically grabbing to those thick thighs of his, opening your mouth in protest but you don’t get a chance to as he slams your plush lips down onto his length, burying himself in one go. Oh, fuck yeah, he moans, even better than I imagined, liefje. You whine and splutter, struggling to breathe at the unexpected intrusion and tap at his legs but he hold you down, blissfully enjoying your tight throat enveloping his cock. You can take it, right baby? Gonna be a good girl for me and keep my dick warm?

His condescending words should be making you angrier but instead you find yourself moaning against him, finding his dominating nature sooo hot. Tightening his hold, he now controls the pace as he jackhammers away happily, without a single care for your muffled squeals. You feel yourself melting at each thrust, looking up at him with starry glazed eyes. He smirks at the sexy sight, using his other hand to fish out his phone and hit record, blinding you temporarily with the flash.

Fucked the brat right out of ya, huh? He teases arrogantly, the camera picking up all the dirty, wet noises you’re making as you deepthroat him. Go on, time to go viral, tell everyone how much you wanted this. You look so much better in front of the camera and not behind it.

He yanks you off his length for a minute, letting you gasp and greedily suck in air as you give in completely to his demands. I do! I do want it, so bad Maxie, you whine. He tuts, slapping your lips with his thick length again and leaving streaks of pre cum all over your face. You can do better than that, sweetheart, you normally have such a way with words.

You whine at his ministrations, instinctively chasing after his tip when he withdraws it, making him chuckle at how cockdrunk he had made you. P-please Maxie, I’m sorry, so sorry for being a bitch, please let me suck you off and make it up to you, please-

Oh, he could get used to the sound of you begging and sweetly moaning his first name very, very easily. Ending your torment, he glides back through your eager lips at an angle, poking through your cheek. He zooms in to capture the filthy sight - tears that drip down your face, messily smudging your mascara and mixing with the trails of precum on your cheeks. Imagine if your boss saw this, huh? Shall I send him a dirty film? He’d lose his goddamn mind seeing his favourite reporter on her knees begging for a dirty driver’s cock.

You bob your head frantically, moaning as your eyes roll back from the intensity of it all. Your lacy panties are glued to your pussy with how wet you are. You’re taking me so well, schat, he pants, cursing, Fuck, it’s like you were made for me. If I’d known you were s’good at suckin me off I’d have you doin’ this after every race. Throwing his head back, he pushes you all the way down, your nose buried into his sweaty abs as he finishes, releasing thick ropes of cum down your eagerly awaiting throat. He holds you there as he roughly orders you to take it all for him, that’s right, just like that. He slides out of you with a wet sound. Open that gorgeous mouth for me, baby.

You obediently drop your lips wide open, tongue poking out so the camera can capture that you’ve swallowed every drop, just like he asked. Satisfied, Max tosses his phone to the side and easily lifts you up with his strong arms to straddle his lap. You immediately grind your desperate pussy against him, hands tangling in his hair as you sloppily make out. His large fingers grip your glittery minidress as he pulls back to grin down at you. Wear this outfit again, he says huskily. In fact, wear whatever you want, anytime. I can fight.

You laugh at his sweetness, heart fluttering at the thought of always having Max by your side to protect you. You know I’m never going to stop annoying you on the paddock, right? You threaten, although you’re smiling. It makes for great content. My boss would never forgive me.

Wouldn’t have it any other way, darling. We have a reputation to maintain, Max replies easily, grinning back at you as he pulls you back in. After all, you two had a lot of apologies to make up for and had found the perfect way to say sorry 💖

—————————————————————————

A/N: so I can never just write a short lil quick fic it always has to be an essay apparently?!? Anyways GLAD YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS THEME EHEHEHE I LOVED WRITING THIS SEND IN MKRE REQUESTS!! 🫶🫶🫶

[wraithdance]

Good Boy [part 1/2]

CW: Mentions of canon childhood trauma & abuse, loss of virginity (Simon), using sex as self harm, my man being traumatized and bitch-less, awkwardness, eventual reader mention, lots of internal dialogue I’m setting sumthn up for the next part

Simon is aware he wasn’t pretty or particularly personable. He didn’t ever really need to be.

Even before the scars and the night terrors that kept him up as he meticulously arranged and dismantled his service pistol, he’d never been one to get the girl.

The years spent supporting his mother and saving Tommy’s ass, while also surviving his father’s blows, took up what was a joke of a childhood. There were no movie dates or pretty birds under his arm or texting his phone (not like he had one). Not even the time to wank to whatever model graced the cover of the cheap magazines his mother hid.

He’d lost his virginity in the most clinical way in the back of the butcher shop he’d worked as a teenager. Couldn’t remember the face of the bold older girl that offered to suck his cock when he went on break. Simon had been befuddled that she’d wanted to repay him with a quickie because he’d discounted the cut of meat she’d been sent to pick up for her mother. He’d accepted nonetheless and followed as she lead him to the back of the alley between the shop and laundromat.

Simon had been stiff, unable to enjoy the feeling of her hot, pink glossed mouth taking his prick as far as she could manage. He’d been too preoccupied with the fear of being caught by his boss and the uncomfortable feel of her teeth snagging the sensitive skin of his shaft. He remembered her offense when she’d asked him if she was making him feel good and he’d said no.

At 18 he was still unaccustomed to the concept of lying to spare another’s feelings.

Expecting her to give up he’d tried to thank her (which offended her more) and stuff his cock back into his work jeans. Instead she’d rolled her eyes and lifted her skirt, positioning herself against the brick wall. She’s all but snapped at him to hurry the fuck up and put his cock inside her.

His hands had trembled as he worked himself into her cunt. She’d hissed around the gum in her mouth when he’d pressed the head of his cock past her slick hole, barking that he was too big and to go slow. He tried, the restraint it took to not chance her ire and rut into her like a dog made his teeth crack with how hard he clenched his jaw. She’d yowled like the female cat that made home behind the trash can when it was in heat. He’d nearly slipped out of her afraid he’d hurt her. She’d called him a fucking idiot and demanded he fucked her until she said stopped. So he did.

The force of his orgasm nearly made him black out, through the muffled roar of his blood in his ears, he’d been able to heed her warning to pull out.

He’d been apologetic about the cum that dripped on her open toed shoes. She’d ignored him and scrapped what she could off with a business card he kept in his apron, while he buckled his pants. She’d come inside to grab her parcel of meat and ignored him. His boss had come from the back office and took one look at the retreating girl before shaking his head at Simon.

When he’d joined the military he’d lost what was left of his naivety. There was no room for apologies and mincing words when seeing the life drain from your enemies eyes. For the first time in his life his roughness and straight speech was an asset.

Tactical. Strategic.

Those were the kind of things they said in praise as they pat him on the back.

He’d embraced it, embraced the part of him that would always be his father’s son and he raised hell in honor of his majesty.

He couldn’t look himself in the eyes in the mirror much less imagine the kind of life MacTavish went on about. Always talking about a house in the highlands and a pregnant wife with a barn full of children.

‘Ye can’t tell me ya don’t want the same L.T’

Johnny would say in the dead of night. Always while ‘keeping company’ at Simon’s shoulder while he watched the world through his sniper. Simon’s hands had always sweat beneath his gloves at the talks of imagined lives outside of the shithole safe house they were holed up in. Sometimes he’d grunt noncommittally and Johnny would take the hint and entertain himself with something else. Other times it took a gruff

‘Shut the fuck up MacTavish’

Johnny would be blissfully quiet awhile and the part of Simon that was still his mother’s son would rear his head long enough to transmute a sense of guilt. It was always short lived because Johnny was persistent, forgiving.

He’d bounce back after some time and laugh at whatever joke Simon had in his arsenal in lieu of an apology.

‘It’s alright L.T we’ll find ye a nice Lass to settle down with’ MacTavish’s eyes would sparkle in mischief. Convinced that was the solution to every problem.

Simon thinks about it often when in the bare apartment he calls home when forced on leave. On nights he can’t think of anything but of the echoes of blood and blows across his body, he thinks of what it would be like to have something to come home to. He never gets too far because there’s no frame of reference to use. Just a nameless girl who’d taken his cock in an alley way.

Simon learned that the more he lost himself to the entity that was Ghost the more women gave him the time of day. It was like the self loathing and dark acerbic energy that kept him tethered to the living was a beacon.

The first time it happened he’d made a mousy girl cry. She’d been dared by her friends to approach him at a bar. He’d felt her eyes on him throughout the night, choosing to ignore her. The mask protected him from the itch that came with being perceived in civilian life. He’d been somewhat prepared for her to get the courage to come up to him, having learned that some people were stupid enough to go against their predator/prey instincts. He hadn’t been prepared for the soft hand that trailed across his back to get his attention.

He’d humiliated her. Towered over her and cut her down with words until dark spots danced at the corner of his visions, until she’d burst into sobs. He’d thrown down cash to cover his tab and left. The echoes of her friends calling him a fucking bastard on his heels.

Much like the first time he’d had sex he responded better to blatant requests to be fucked. The requests nearly always when out at drinks with his team. He’d gotten good at recognizing the telltale signs of desperate interest. The glance over of his mates, the dilated pupils as they took in his mask and covered form. On the days he couldn’t be arsed he ignored them. When he needed to feel something other than nothingness he’d meet their eyes. Signal with his head to meet him in the dingy hallway or the back alley.

Always the same as the first time. Spreading their legs against the brick, rutting deep and wasting his spend on the asphalt. With experience he’d learned to grip their necks and maneuver their bodies just so. Overtaking their senses and giving them the fantasy of being just a cunt for him to fuck. In the end he always felt like the one being used.

Sometimes they wanted more from him. A kiss, a call, a second time. He’d occasionally entertained it, the prickling desire to have that dream Johnny painted. It always ended the same. His career kept him away, he was too closed off, the novelty of fucking the guy who scared their friends wore off. And he was left feeling more like a shell.

He stopped recognizing himself in the mirror after a while. A stranger stared back at him with lifeless eyes and a body that belonged to someone else.

The night he met you he’d been unprepared. You’d stared at him like the others. Flickering eyes back and forth taking him in with interest. Gaz and Johnny had noticed and made jokes that set his teeth on edge. He’d told them to piss off.

He caught you staring at him once more, holding your gaze with lidded eyes. You didn’t look away or act coy and embarrassed.

Good.

Subtly he motioned to the bars entrance. You frowned.

He watched you stand up and collect your bags and he took down the rest of his tepid beer. Gaz and Johnny whistled loud and obnoxiously, until Price rallied them in with a half hearted threat.

Simon is making his way through the crowded pub keeping track of your movements. He’s got a cigarette out and lit when you cautiously tip toe out into the night.

He’s watching your nervous shuffling from behind the tendrils of smoke. You seem to make up your mind about something because your shoulders set apart and you straighten your back. Brave little thing.

“Can you model for me-“

“Lift your skirt-”

Your eyes are peeled wide in disbelief. He’s honestly just as confused but hides it with a flick of the cigarette ash.

“Wot?”

“Uh? I asked if you could model for me,” you’re not quite fidgeting but you aren’t really focusing on him. Your eyes are looking just past his shoulder in a facsimile of eye contact. Something about it bothers him.

He flicks the half spent cigarette to the concrete and pulls away from the wall. You don’t step back from his size or flutter your eyes like a pretty bird. You’re taking him in like you’re categorizing him.

“Wots this about modeling? I thought you followed me out to ask for my cock.”

Your nose wrinkles at the crassness.

“No sorry, I thought you just wanted to talk in a quieter area,” you look around at the alleyway for a spell before facing him. “Honestly it seems a bit unsanitary to have sex out here don’t you think?”

He snorts. He’d never heard any objections before. He’d also never had sex in a bed either though.

Simon had long since learned he was good enough to fuck in alleys or cars between shifts. Sometimes couches if he made it across the threshold. Never had any qualms around it until you mentioned it.

It’s a grating thought he doesn’t want to dwell on. He’s turning to leave when you step in front of him with arms raised.

“Wait!” He is glowering down at you unimpressed.

“I’m sorry I really did want to ask you to model for me!” You’re panicking and inching closer to the bar door as if hoping to block his exit with your body. A laughable thought. You must realize it too because your hands drop listlessly to your side.

“Listen, I’m an author and I need someone to pose for a cover mock up for a series.” He scoffs.

“And you thought I’d be a fit?”

“Well yeah!” Your eyes light up in excitement and you ramble out a stream of things he doesn’t quite catch. His focus on the curve of your cheeks and the sense of life you emit. His cock is half chubbed in his pants watching you.

After awhile your rambles trail off and you stare at each other. Realizing he had no plans to respond you sigh in defeat.

“Look take my card,” you’re reaching into your pocket for a wrinkly square. “I’m serious I really do think you’d be a great model for my series and I’d really like to treat you to coffee if you’re willing to hear me out.”

Simon isn’t sure why he takes the card, but he does. He’s looking at the hand doodled picture of a dog and the chicken scrawl beneath the text stating ‘Expert Dog Walker’. He gives you a flat look that causes you to grimace.

“It’s my day job, you know what they say about starving artists and all.” You joke.

He doesn’t laugh.

He instead pockets the thin square and steps around you. You’re on his heels following him inside. He gives you a look as a sign of dismissal that you scoff at but you take the hint.

He watches you leave from the corner of his eye while he settles down at the table with his team.

‘You’re back a little early mate.” Gaz prods.

“The lass dinnae look too happy with your performance LT what did ye do? Do ye need me to tell you how to put it in.” Soap claps a hand over Simon’s shoulder that he shoves off.

Price observes him quietly with arms crossed. Simon doesn’t tell them about your odd little request at all.

He fingers the card in his pocket throughout the night. He looks at your scrawled name as he washes the eye black from his face, your card tucked into the mirror.

He has the number memorized by the time he’s done.

[killakalx]

17+ content, blank blogs dnf

gunplay, bit of a gory description, hate sex, degradation, brat taming, throat fuck, ruined orgasm, arkham knight gear stays on, reader is a vigilante. a/n at the end :p

the arkham knight’s watched you long enough to know how you operate; your favorite moves, how you approach the enemy, how you talk to the enemy. you’re reckless and actively searching for a thrill out in gotham. and in turn, he gets his fun in tearing you down. the tone you tend to take with him is testy more often than not, and he waits until he’s got one thread of patience before he disarms you of your boldness. then he continues. on from the shield to the armor, then digging into bare skin just to fuck with you. to humble and embarrass you.

“you think you’re so cute,” he mutters with an agitation about him, gothamite accent still coming out thick through the voice modulator. “you like this shit? me fucking you ‘til this pussy’s all sore?” the look on your face is helpless, tears swelling in your lashes and gasping at the bruising grip on your hips. he’s burying his cock to the hilt and pulling your little sense of decency out with it each thrust, and still, you’ve got the nerve to test just how quickly he’ll break you with a little more incentive.

“I think-“ you start, though you’re temporarily interrupted by your own moan. “I think you like this.” your hand clutches onto any part of his gear when he responds with a harsher fucking, legs trembling and still trying to shit talk him. “just a fucking brute looking for an- mm- an outlet.” the deep laugh that comes from the depths of his throat is threatening, accompanied by a grip on your hair that yanks your head forward.

“look at that,” he orders, chin forced against your chest and making your throat tighten as you mewl. “look who’s leaking all over my cock like a cheap whore instead of patrolling and say that shit again.” and because you like this little game, you do. it’s an attempt to psychoanalyze him, to get in touch with his own self loathing and provoke something deadly.

“always so angry,” you whisper, “don’t know anything other than that.” your words start slurring together, but the somehow condescending tone is still there to tick him off more. now his pace picks up and a gloved hand rudely gropes your chest, almost like a handle as he pistons into you. even through pathetic whimpers, you manage, “I bet this bloodthirsty act is-“

“all you do is bark, huh.”

in a matter of seconds, the brutish tendencies spill. your body’s slammed into the mattress and your head jerks, light stinging in the back of your head suggesting that you’ve hit the headboard. and with the cool steel he’s slipped down your throat, you’re reminded that the blood thirst is a bit more than an act. he does it as if he’s throwing you a bone, pacifying you, the rowdy little thing that just wants something to chew on. it makes you choke with wide eyes, barrel of the gun shoved into your mouth until you feel his finger on the trigger brush your chin.

“i’d shut that damned mouth,” the arkham knight warns, “y’can’t council me with a bullet in your neck, doc.” he’s stopped fucking you to let the silence after a bone chilling realization disturb you, but your body betrays you- you can’t help how you tighten around his cock at the position you’ve put yourself in. it takes everything not to move your hips as you pant over your ruined orgasm, the tingly feeling you get from fucking your boss’s first priority target behind his back. it’s teetering away and replaced with repulsive guilt, but only for a mere moment.

“you’re a fucking joke,” he chastises, “think about it- if I pull off that bloodthirsty act… all it takes is a bang, then you’ll be drownin’ in my color.” he speaks with desire, as if he looks forward to it. the drag he adds to the ‘bang’ is complemented with a rigid scratch in your throat as he pushes it further down, just to hear the sorry gasp of fear you give him. “that turning you on?”

it is. desperately, in fact. such a crude and gory picture’s been painted in your mind, yet he makes it sound so poetic and unique to himself. the imagination can be terribly vivid; so much as a flinch of his finger and the sheets are dowsed in your blood—no, like he said, his color—while you choke on the metallic taste similar to the one sheathed between your lips now. less vividly, but real, you see him, clad in chest plates and thick cargo material, nothing but a digital glitch from the helmet while he’s got you speared on his cock and gagging on his handgun.

“ngh-“ you sputter, spit dribbling around the metal as your dilated pupils are met with a blank red stare. what was intended to be a no is presented as a yes, cunt twitching when he fucks the pistol into your mouth. much to your dismay, he likes the look on your face, and the gun slides out of your mouth after he leaves your pussy aching without an orgasm. deciding against words, you whine, limp on the mattress and easily dragged to the floor on your knees.

he’s yanked on the cute little ponytail you only wear for nightly duties, making you pout. it hurts- but there’s no point in saying that. he knows. that’s the idea; letting you know that you’ve yet to deal with anything near his full potential of brute strength because this is his bare fucking minimum. “I was gonna do this first,” the agitated grin in his voice is evident, smacking the head of his cock on your tongue as your mouth hands agape. “but I thought I was being nice by fucking everything outta that pretty little head.” you’d had half a mind to start sucking at the tip, but he beats you to it by shoving your head down, groaning as you gag against his happy trail. “hell, I’m still being nice- I bet this dick feels way better than a bullet.”

your hands search for abandon before weakly hooking onto his thigh straps, bracing yourself for what anyone could piece together as pleasurable torture. your pretty lashes flutter through your cowl, stained with dark eye make-up and tears. “y’look a lot more pathetic like this, doll- who knew that was possible, huh?” the arkham knight has you utterly broken, and he feels you’re no where near humbled yet. ❧

a/n ;; woahhhh porn w/ plot who cheered??? this is kinda piggybacking off of this anon I received referring to my first fic for the arkham knight, shout out to that nonnie :). as always rbs and commentary are appreciated, i hope this was up to par, ty for reading <3

[coolcoolcoolbutwtf]

Fentons family's guide Section on being an evil assistant to a supervillain

_________________________________________

Fentons family's guide to being an evil assistant to a supervillain

Guide by Jazmin Fenton in case of employment with a supervillain.

Being an evil assistant or henchmen is surprisingly a very stable source of an income stream all things considered.

You just need to find a boss. A as in singular it's very important, who is pathetic and or stupid enough to constantly have their large scale plan failing even without the hero's Involvement.

And while their large scale plan for taking over the world with a weapon of mass destruction could be feasible if only they didn't think to actually use it. Using it to threaten the world leaders for sway is the correct way. It is the most unused method the one being used most is the method of actually using the weapon of mass destruction for mass destruction.

You as the evil assistant then have the responsibility to make sure that the villain doesn't/ can't use said device to destroy the world. The heroes can help. Later then take the blame for the failure absolving you of involvement.

Being a good evil assistant is babysitting the evil boss.

_________________________________pg 9___

"Oh man never thought I'd actually need to use the 'Fenton guide' Jazz made me." Danny mumbled quietly and heaved a sigh of relief when he had found it among his hastily packed together bag.

Jazz had been the one making both of their emergency bags when she had told him about the guide. He hadn't appreciated it then now he truly did now with everything going on.

God he missed Jazz so much. He wanted to see her so badly he wanted to hold her hand like when they were kids. He really wanted her hand to squeeze his back in reassurance that everything was going to be fine.

Danny tried holding back his sobs at the thought. He couldn't stop the mist in his eyes or his hands shaking holding the little booklet.

But he wanted her safe and far away from everything even more. He wanted his friends to be safe with his sister. It didn't matter if he had to be far away working getting those crystals every way he could think of. His friends and sister needed money to keep them safe, hidden and taken care of. They needed that money and crystals and if Danny had to choose between his morals and fright he would always choose his true family. Morals be damned.

• • •

He hadn't expected the costume to be so good in quality. That had surprised him the most the second being how easy it would be getting a job with villains. Turns out working as an "meta" henchmen who knew everything from fighting to logistics and machinery was a rarity in this dimension. Who would have guessed it with all the metas and enhanced humans going about? And omg they even have aliens in this dimension!

Getting the money for the crystals had been going surprisingly smoothly. Everything had been going so smoothly that of course it had to be ruined! The villain Danny was working for had gotten noticed and promptly got beat. Which meant he didn't have an employer anymore at least until a breakout was orchestrated. So no more job until then.

And Danny had finally managed his way to the middle hierarchy in that organization! Now he would need to go looking for evil henchmen positions again! It wasn't even a good season to go looking for openings in other organizations.

Damn it that bat furry in Gotham and his flock of birds. Don't they get how hard it is for a henchmen to find descant work!?

Maybe he should go with the duo villain and assistant type next time.

Thank you so much for reading I hope it was enjoyed!

Danny in the lair after having saved his villain boss from Batman after said villain had their scheme blown up in their face. Danny knew the plan would fail miserably but at this point he didn't care. He stopped trying to help when it came to schemes ages ago.

+Some art

Idk if I've posted this idea before but I've had this thing bouncing around in my head for a while.

[sister-lucifer]

“You’re Really Not Cut Out For This…”

A Toby x Gender Neutral Reader Drabble 

Content/Warnings: Porn with no plot, bottom/sub Reader, degradation, a bit of mean Toby, heavy discussion of Reader basically being a free use sex toy, no specified genitalia for Reader, Reader + Toby are both proxies

This is not fully proof read! Please let me know if you see any typos

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, USED COMMERCIALLY OR FED TO AN AI. IF YOU DO THIS I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND FUCKING KILL YOU.

“You know, y-you’re reeeaaaally not cut— c-cut out for this-ss-s…t-this ‘job,’ I mean.” 

The sudden admission would make you pause if had the lucidity to do so. You can’t do much of anything with the rabid way Toby’s pounding into you from behind, shoving his cock into you with the whole of his strength without so much as a single thought to your wellbeing. You barely manage to babble out something that sounds like a question. You can feel him smiling despite the forced wrenching of his face. 

“I-I’m just saying,” he continues, punctuating that last word with a particularly acute thrust that makes you squeal, “You d-don’t—shhh!—don’t seem like y-you really enjoy this-ss-s…line of-fff-f work…hell, you’re not good at i-it— it either, if we’re being hones-ss-st-t.” 

There’s no ignoring the cheeky giggle in his voice as he insults you to your face. He leans over you a bit, putting more of his weight on you and practically trapping you beneath him. He keeps talking before you even get a chance to protest. 

“You’re definitely n-not my equal,” he growls with a chuckle, as if highly amused by the idea of your inferiority, “You’ve hardly su— s-succeeded at any mission th-the ‘Boss’ has given you— y-you…but you are so good at this—“ 

He laughs at the way you choke on nothing when he angles his hips upwards just right, hitting that sensitive spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. You can feel his body shudder on top of you, a series of involuntary tongue clicks and whistles interrupting him for a moment before his endless chatter continues on. 

“You’re sooo— s-so fucking good at taking my cock…” 

He can’t contain the flood of sick giggles that burst from his throat before he can truly finish his thought. 

“…Tell you what I’m gonna do.” 

You shiver at how deathly serious his voice becomes suddenly. He’s speaking lowly into your ear, making sure you hear every syllable clear as day.  His stutter even pauses for that moment; he’s focused, suddenly, and a focused Toby is rare, but horrific for anyone who happens to be in his line of sight. 

“I’m gonna talk to the ‘Boss’…y-yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I-I’ll tell— t-tell him myself, ‘I don’t t-think the n-new— new— new one is cut out for this.’”

He grabs at your arms, pinning them to the mattress as he uses his body to hold you down. He’s starting to lose his steady pace as his excitement builds, his fingers flexing and popping in ways they shouldn’t be able to as he grasps your wrists.

“And he’ll l-listen to me, you know? H-He’ll lis— l-listen-nn-n to me, I know he will, be— b-because— beep! beep!— because I’m his f-ff-favorite.”

The word ‘favorite’ echoes in your mind, making you dizzy and sick. As much as you and the others are convinced that creature can’t feel emotion at all, it does show favoritism. It doesn’t love Toby, it doesn’t even care about him; on some level, Toby has to know that, he’s smarter than he lets on, but… 

…He doesn’t care. 

All he knows is that he’s getting positive attention from something, and it’s going straight to his ego. The only saving grace is that he’s usually too juvenile and short sighted to use that power against his fellow proxies. 

Usually. 

Unless he can get something he really wants out of it. 

“I-I’ll tell him, I’ll tell him-mm-m you’d be better off as my toy.” 

You nearly choke as Toby rocks you forward with a particularly hard thrust. You can feel your legs trembling, nothing more than jello underneath you, barely holding you up. Toby sucks in a breath through his crooked teeth as he watches you put the pieces together in your mind, though you can do little to show it. 

“That’s right, that’s-ss-s right!” He repeats, sounding far too pleased with himself, “I’ll tell him you’d be b-better off-ff-f being used, just-t something I can use— u-use— use to unwind after I do all the hard work that y-you— you could never.” 

He breaks out into giggles again, wrapping an arm around your neck and stifling your air without warning. You grasp onto his sleeve, clawing at his arm, but you’re far too shaky and weak to pull it away. He forces you to look him in the eyes, not wanting even a scrap of your attention to not be on him. 

“That’s right, you h-hear that?” He manages to choke out between his laughter, “I’m gon-nn-a get you demoted to a fucking hole!” 

He pushes—throws, really—your head back into the mattress before even have the chance to argue. He shoves your face into the bed, hand tangled in your hair as you whimper pathetically, exactly how he likes. He runs his tongue over his lips as he looks down at you, completely helpless underneath him, and it sends a surge of sick pleasure through his body.

“Just enjoy it,” He hisses through gritted teeth, “Because when I-I get m-mm-my way, this is all you’ll ever do.”

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[antiquarianfics]

Accidental pt. 2

What happens when you accidentally kidnap the exact man you were looking for?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

warning(s): canon level violence, kidnapping, profanity

a/n: the comments on the last pt. were so affirming, omg. thanks, guys. anyway, here's a second part. ig the same idea stands: if this does well, maybe i'll do a pt. 3?

part 1

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

"You're looking for a man by the name of Barnes, James Barnes. He's the owner of the bar you took me from, and he's the head of the Barnes Family. He'll have the answers you're looking for."

"Where can I find him?"

The man grins, a dashing smile.

“I’m right here, Doll.”

—

Somehow, against your instincts, you manage not to take a step back. You keep your feet planted in front of the man, eye twitching a little, jaw clenching.

“You’re James Barnes?” You say, voice devoid of any real emotion.

“Disappointed? Looking for someone less handsome?” He shoots you a cheeky grin.

You scoff. “More like I wasn’t expecting to kidnap a mob boss.”

James laughs, a genuine laugh. “No, I bet you weren’t. However, I do have to say, I’m impressed. Not just anyone can take me by surprise.”

“How long?” You ask, ignoring his praise.

“What?” He raises an eyebrow.

“How long until your men come looking for you? I expected more time, but with you being in charge…” You trail off.

“Ah, yes.” He glances down at the very expensive watch on his wrist. “Well, if it’s 11 now, I’d say… ah. 7 hours before anyone notices.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That long? Really? Are you sure you’re important?”

He grins at you, a dashing grin. You shake your head slightly. You shouldn’t be thinking about his smile right now--you shouldn't be teasing him.

“Very. But my people know not to bother me at night. What I do on my own time is my business. You’re in the clear as long as I show up on time to my meeting. If I’m not there... Well, then people begin to worry.”

You let out an involuntary laugh. “In the clear? You're telling me I’m going to get away with kidnapping you? Actually, don't answer that. You're baiting me, and distracting me. I need answers. Back to my sister. Where is she?"

"I was wondering if you'd forgotten about that."

"Answer the question," you say, stepping forward and putting your knife back up against his throat. It seems to do the trick.

James' face grows serious, as if the man in front of you was no longer playing around with you and had switched into his regular business persona.

"She's alive."

You let out a relieved breath. Alive is something. Alive is good.

"Where are you keeping her?"

"Well, doll, I can't just tell you that."

"Sure you can," you say, repeating your words from earlier.

He smirks, "Why don't you just take the knife away from my throat first? I'm precious goods."

You roll your eyes at him, but you pull the knife away. You hold the knife up to him as if to say I will pull this out again and set it down on the table a few feet away, and as you turn around, you pull a chair from the same table up to James, placing it right in front of him. You sit, an expectant look upon your face.

"Look, doll, why don't you just go ahead and untie me now that you've put that knife away, and we can have a friendly talk about this?" He asks.

You scoff, yet again. This man, you think, is insufferable.

"Try again, pretty boy."

"So you think I'm pretty?" He smirks.

"I think you're annoying, and I think you know where my sister is. So, how about you stop wasting my time and tell me what I want to know?"

He sighs dramatically and lets his head roll to the side as if he's bored before lifting it to look you directly in the eye.

"Like I said before, she owed me something she couldn't repay."

"What's that?"

"That information's gonna cost you, sweetheart."

"You're in no position to be negotiating right now," you say indignantly.

"Sure I am. Don't forget I'm the most powerful man in Brooklyn."

"Don't forget you're tied up and I have a gun."

"You wouldn't shoot me."

"Fucking try me, doll."

He laughs, a real, genuine laugh. "Agree to my terms, sweetheart, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

You huff. "What are your terms?"

"'Atta girl!" He exclaims cheerily.

You grab your pistol from its holster at your side and aim it at the man in front of you, resting the gun on your thigh. He glances down at it before raising his gaze back up to you. He clears his throat, but something tells you it's not because he is nervous.

"Go on a date with me."

Your eyebrows shoot up. He's joking, you think. A date?

"A date?"

"A date."

"You want to go on a date with the woman who knocked you out, dragged you to an unknown location, tied you up, is demanding information from you, and is currently pointing a gun at you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I have my reasons."

"How do I know you won't just kill me when I show up?"

"Because that wouldn't be very gentleman like of me. My mama raised me better."

"You're a mob boss. You extort and kill people for a living."

He shrugs. "Well, what do you say? Do we have a deal?"

"No," you say.

"No?" He asks, confused.

"I have my own conditions." James tilts his head slightly as a signal to go on.

"You've already confirmed that my sister is alive which confirms you have her locked up somewhere. You will let her go and forgive her debt for whatever the hell it is that she owes you. Do that and once she is safely at home and I've laid eyes on her, you can have that date. Do we have a deal?"

James is staring at you, and as much as you hate it, you can't read him. Your heart is pounding, and you're hoping, praying even, that you've not pushed too far.

"Deal."

You blink once, twice before it registers that he has accepted the deal. Damn, you think, he really wants that date.

"Have her home by... What time was your meeting again? 7? Have her home safely by 7 tomorrow," you say, standing up from where you sat in front of him. You begin to move around the basement, picking up your things that you had brought with you in the whole kidnapping ordeal. Once you've collected your things, you start walking towards the stairs to leave. "If she isn't there, the deal's off."

"You're just going to leave me here?" James asks, pulling at his arm restraints.

You look over your shoulder at him and smile at him. "You're a mob boss, doll, I'm sure you'll get out of there in time." Then, with that, you ascend the stairs.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

@cjand10 @vicmc624 @mostlymarvelgirl @livingoutsidethetardis

[captain-hawks]

till one of us caves

atsumu miya x f!reader

In which Osamu asks his brother to keep you company while you're closing the shop alone one night. And it wouldn't be an issue...if Atsumu wasn't the bane of your goddamn existence ever since your stupid drunken hookup years ago.

wc: 3.7k

c: 18+, smut, enemies to lovers speed run, the complete and utter defilement of onigiri miya (sorry osamu), miscommunication, fingering, unprotected p in v, atsumu is down so bad and also he's an idiot, protective!atsumu, miya twin banter, best friend!osamu

“Absolutely not.”

Osamu pauses in the middle of counting cash at the register and glances up to follow where your narrowed gaze is focused—a head of blonde hair on its way through the front doors of Onigiri Miya. 

“I didn’t want ya closin’ alone,” Osamu replies, returning his attention to the stack of bills in his hand. 

“Hey dickhead, I hope yer feedin’ me for this!”

Instant headache. 

Instant fucking headache. 

You let out a long-suffering, exaggerated sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re only leaving an hour early. I can handle this alone, Osamu. I promise.”

Osamu closes the register, turning around to look at you with his arms crossed. “It’s a Saturday night. I don’t like you dealin’ with the drunk stragglers by yourself.”

Glancing around, you pick up the only vaguely threatening object within arm’s length—a plastic spork. “I know self defense.”

Raising an eyebrow, Osamu glances from your face to the small utensil clutched between your fingers. “Wouldn’t be the first time Tsumu’s been stabbed with a spork,” he mutters. 

“Fooooooooooood,” said twin dramatically whines, plastering himself across the counter like a fainting Victorian maiden. 

“Get yer sweaty ass offa there,” Osamu grunts, snapping a rag against Atsumu’s arm. 

He yelps, muttering something under his breath before finding a normal sitting position on the stool. 

“Alright, now get outta here so you’re not late for your date,” Atsumu chides, running a hand through his hair. 

It’s obnoxious, actually—the way he still manages to look infuriatingly attractive even with his sweaty bleach-blonde hair sticking up in every direction, his face still flushed and voice a little hoarse from practice. At the very least, he had the decency to toss on a clean black tee with MSBY emblazoned in large gold letters across the back. 

You hate Atsumu Miya and his stupidly perfect face. 

And his calves—who the fuck has calves that nice. 

You also hate Osamu, your best friend and boss, for unceremoniously dumping your least favorite Miya into your lap at 8 o’clock on a Saturday night. 

“It’s not a date,” Osamu yells from the office, walking out with a jacket slung over his shoulder.

“Looks like ya showered for once today, dirtbag,” Atsumu shoots back, mouth full of rice. “Sounds like a date to me.”

“Choke,” Osamu deadpans as he heads for the door, “…but not in here. Don’t have time for all that paperwork.”

Atsumu salutes his brother as you stand in the middle of the shop with your hands wrapped around the broom. 

“Can’t promise what kind of paperwork you’re gonna have to do after leaving us alone together,” you mutter. 

Osamu leans in, patting the side of your face. “Just promise me you’ll mop up the blood.”

—

You’ve known the Miya twins for years now, though it was Osamu that you first became friends with after a shared class in your second year of university. 

Atsumu was more like the miserable cold that you accidentally bring home from vacation. 

The miserable cold who you’re instantly, stupidly attracted to from the moment his brother introduces him to you. Who you end up drunkenly making out with in bed after a party one night. 

Who passes out midway through and disappears before you’re awake the next morning.  

Who had a fucking girlfriend at the time, unbeknownst to you. Knowledge courtesy of Osamu, who nearly undeservingly took a textbook to the head when he told you. 

Who, to this day, three years later, has never even acknowledged that it happened. 

It wouldn’t have been so bad if you hadn’t been harboring a stupid crush on him for months. And if perhaps you’d been a little more drunk, enough to forget the taste of his lips, the press of his fingertips into your hips. But naturally, that little hiccup drove an irrevocable wedge between the two of you, leading you to regard the blonde Miya in a perpetually antagonistic manner until the end of time. 

Such is life.

“I think you might rile ‘im up better than even I can nowadays,” Osamu had observed once, after Atsumu balked in aggravation when you returned from picking up everyone’s fast food orders and handed him a kid’s meal instead. 

Atsumu, never one to back down from a challenge, met your piss poor attitude in spades, going so far as to barge in on your dates on occasion, plopping right down at the table and obnoxiously stuffing whatever appetizer was in front of him into his mouth like you’d invited him. 

—

Surprisingly, despite the restaurant’s minimal square footage, the two of you manage to avoid one another for the next forty-five minutes—Atsumu quietly sits at a table watching game replays on his phone while you wipe down the counters. 

You almost forget he’s there, until the bell above the door dings to announce what’ll probably be the last customer of the night. 

And—fuck. 

Osamu kicked this guy out last week when he wouldn’t take no for an answer after you refused to give him your number. 

“Hey pretty girl,” a tipsy voice slurs as the man settles down at the counter. 

“Sorry, we’re about to close,” you tell him, not looking up from the pile of receipts you’re sorting on the other side. 

“S’not why I’m here,” he chuckles. 

Take a hint, buddy. 

“We’re closing soon,” you repeat firmly. 

A hand grasps your wrist, and you yelp as he murmurs, “What’re you doing after this?”

“Get your fuckin’ hands off of her, and get the fuck out,” a cold voice interrupts. 

A hand clamps down firmly on the man’s shoulder, and you watch the pain flit across his face as fingertips dig into his collarbone. 

“Now,” Atsumu adds, his voice so harsh it brokers no room for argument. 

You may call yourself an expert in Miya antagonization. But as you look at Atsumu’s stormy, furious expression, the tense set of his jaw, you realize that you’ve never seen him truly angry. 

Not like this. 

The man quickly gets up from the stool, putting his hands up in front of him as he stumbles backward and says, “I didn’t mean anything by it, man.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Atsumu replies, his voice low. “I’m sure my brother was a real nice guy when he told ya to leave last time. I ain’t nice. Don’t fuckin’ come back here.”

The silence is deafening when the front door swings shut, broken only by the sound of Atsumu twisting the lock into place and flipping the sign to CLOSED. Your heart, meanwhile, is frantically pounding in your chest. 

Atsumu wasn’t even here when that happened last week, which means Osamu must have told him for whatever reason, and…

“You alright?”

Atsumu interrupts you from your thoughts, and you glance up to find a disarmingly concerned expression burrowed into his features. 

“Yeah…thanks,” you exhale, quickly turning around to busy yourself with anything but staring at the downward curve of his lips. 

You have all of ten seconds to yourself before Atsumu comes to stand beside you behind the counter, idly tidying a pile of napkins as he explains, “Samu was worried that creep might come back, so he was gonna cancel his plans tonight so you wouldn’t be alone if he did. I told him I’d come make sure ya were alright.”

You’re not sure why, but suddenly, you’re angry. 

You’re really fucking angry.

Maybe it’s because you’re a little raw in the wake of the adrenaline rush from that uncomfortable encounter, a little shaken by the stranger’s boldness and the way Atsumu stepped in without a second thought.   

Maybe you swear it looked like Atsumu was about to reach out to you afterward, his hand falling back to his side in an aborted gesture between one breath and the next. 

“Since when do you care if I’m alright, Atsumu?”

Atsumu startles beside you. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you led me on years ago and nearly fucked me at a party—you probably would have, if you didn’t pass out in my bed halfway through taking off your pants. You disappeared the next morning, failed to inform me that you had a girlfriend, and then conveniently acted like it never fucking happened.”

He stares at you, mouth slightly agape. “I’m sorry, I what now?”

You turn to face him fully, crossing your arms, an incredulous look on your face. “You’re joking, right?”

“Was that…oh….” Atsumu scratches the back of his head, trailing off. “That’s the night I blacked out.”

“I mean yeah, you were kind of trashed.”

“No, like that’s the night that made me realize I had to cut back on drinking. I’ve got no memory of what happened. Zero. Haven’t drank that much since.”

“So was it not concerning that you woke up in my bed?” you ask, brows furrowed. 

“I hardly knew ya back then. Didn’t even know that was your dorm room, and you were hoggin’ all the covers. Couldn’t even see yer face before I panicked and crawled my hungover, half-dead ass back to me and Samu’s.”

Well, this is certainly news to you. 

“…and Osamu never told you.”

Well, why would he, after you spent two hours bitching to him about it and then threatened to never speak to him again if he made the situation even more embarrassing by telling Atsumu you were upset. 

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p for emphasis before sobering a bit as he says in a more serious tone, “I’m sorry. For doing that to you, and for forgetting that it happened.”

You reach out, punching Atsumu in the shoulder. 

“The fuck was that for?” he exclaims. 

“So why have you been such an insufferable jackass all these years?”

Atsumu raises his eyebrows, looking affronted. “You haven’t exactly been a ray of sunshine either, sweetheart.”

Well, true. 

But still. 

(You try to ignore what the stupid pet name does to your heart, which is currently in the midst of a traitorous backflip inside of your chest.)

“At least I didn’t barge in and ruin your dates for no reason,” you glare. 

“That was like, twice,” Atsumu defends himself. “Maybe three times.”

You stare at him. 

“The fourth time doesn’t count, that guy was a dickhead. Samu wanted to punch ‘im, too.”

“You ate an entire basket of breadsticks.”

Atsumu shrugs, taking a step closer to you. “They’re bottomless for a reason.”

You’re not sure when it happened, but you’re pressed up against the prep counter in the back of the shop, and one of Atsumu’s hands is resting on the cool metal surface beside your hip. Not quite touching you, but you swear you can feel the heat of him all the same. 

“You ruined my dates for breadsticks?” you ask quietly, holding his gaze. 

Atsumu’s thumb twitches, and you feel the featherlight touch through your jeans. “I ruined your dates because I was jealous.”

Blood rushes in your ears, your mind struggling to comprehend the rush of emotion flooding through you. Embarrassment, elation, shock, annoyance—and something else, something with a darker, richer edge. 

Something that has the next words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them, “Did you think doing that was going to make me take you home and fuck you instead?”

Atsumu has the decency to flush, but he only further closes the gap between your bodies, his nose brushing against yours as he replies, “I hated how much you hated me. And I hated how much I still wanted you.”

“You’re an idiot, Miya.”

He laughs. 

He laughs, and it’s a low, rich sound that dances down your spine and curls up low in your belly.

“Yeah, yer probably right,” he exhales, his breath hot against your lips. “I should probably find another tactic.”

“I’ve heard drunken hookups work wonders,” you sigh, voice tinged with sarcasm. 

His free hand comes to rest on your other side, effectively caging you in. “I’d have to be a fuckin’ idiot to fumble the bag with you twice.”

“Who said I’m still interested?” you reply, putting an inch of space back between your mouths, if only for the sake of your own sanity. 

Atsumu hums. “I do have eyes, ya know.”

You don’t miss a beat, “Maybe I’m secretly dating your brother, and I just objectively like the look of your face, as his twin. Like a natural, biological reaction.”

“Yer not datin’ Samu,” Atsumu replies evenly. “He couldn’t handle ya.”

You glare at him. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Atsumu smirks at your indignation. “You’re outta his league.”

“And what exactly is my league?”

“Some stupid, sweaty pro volleyball player whose got it pretty damn bad for ya, who would settle for a hate fuck at this point if that’s all ya wanna give him.”

You know Atsumu clocks the way your breath hitches in your throat, the slight widening of your pupils that you can’t disguise at the bald, shameless truth of his words.  

The look on his face is so ridiculously endearing, you want to kiss it right off. 

Pushing yourself upward with your palms, you sit up on the counter, and Atsumu shifts forward to stand between your legs.

“Osamu would kill us.”

His nose caresses yours again, and he rests one hand on the side of your face. “For doing something other than fightin’? He’d throw a party.”

“For turning Onigiri Miya into a house of ill repute.”

Atsumu chokes.

“But there’s just one little thing, Atsumu,” you continue. 

“What’s that?” he asks carefully, each word a huff of warm air dancing across your mouth. 

You exhale, shuddering at the feeling of Atsumu’s other hand idly tracing the exposed sliver of skin between your t-shirt and jeans. “Can you handle me?”

Atsumu’s thumb skirts across the bottom of your chin before he leans in, mouthing his next words against your lips, “Have I ever told you how hot it is when you’re mean to me?”

Your answering laugh is swallowed by a kiss, an all-consuming kiss that has you gasping into Atsumu’s mouth as he licks his way into yours. 

There’s no preamble for the way Atsumu’s tongue dances across your own, the thorough way he tastes you—the groan that rumbles in his throat as you take his bottom lip between your teeth.

Kissing Atsumu Miya is like setting a wildfire loose in your chest, all the oxygen swallowed up by his greedy, hungry heat. Your nerves thrum, the vibration rattling to the tips of your toes, and you’re helpless to resist the urge to pull him closer.

The second one of your legs begins to hike up around Atsumu’s waist, he grabs both, urging you to wrap your thighs around him, and he groans into your mouth as you find yourself flush with the solid proof of his arousal.

“Ya have no fuckin’ clue how bad I’ve wanted you,” he murmurs, drawing a keening noise from your lips as he hotly mouths his way down the side of your neck.

On the court, Atsumu Miya is an indomitable force. He’s unwaveringly confident and effortlessly sure of himself as a setter, always in control.

The crowd falls quiet, the ball follows his trajectory.

It’s a practiced dance, and he’s the conductor.

But here, pressed up against the counter in his brother’s restaurant, with your fingers tangled in his hair and his warm, soft hands sliding up beneath your shirt to clutch your waist, there’s a lawless, frantic edge to him. For every precise, focused move—like a kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear that he somehow just knows will make you gasp, and the dizzying way he cups the back of your head when he kisses you deeper—you can feel the wild, barely-restrained desire in the unfiltered chorus of groans you’re not even sure he’s aware are falling past his lips.

It’s slipping—his control.

And you don’t want him to stop.

“Atsumu,” you whine into his mouth when he finally, finally slides a hand up under your bra, cupping your breast and teasing at your sensitive, pebbled nipple.

“Yeah?” he pants, kissing his way around the curve of your jaw, only pausing to help you in your endeavor to take off your shirt.

He wastes no time in unclipping your bra, his deft fingers making quick work of the clip, and his expression is nothing short of lustful reverence when he takes in the sight of your naked breasts before him.

“Fuck,” he murmurs quietly, taking a breast in each of his palms while he leans in to press a kiss to your sternum, and whatever you were going to say promptly exits your mind a beat later. Wet, hot heat engulfs your nipple, and you glance down, nearly choking on your own spit at the sight of Atsumu sucking on your breasts.

Rocking your hips into him, you let out a breathy whine at the feeling of his hard cock pressing into your cunt, the fabric of his athletic shorts doing nothing to hide his thick, throbbing insistence. 

Atsumu moans against your tits, and the filthy, wet sound of him shamelessly lapping at them sends a fresh gush of arousal between your legs, your underwear now soaked with it. You reach between your bodies, doing your needy cunt no favors at all when you feel just how thick Atsumu is as you wrap your fingers around him.

“God, I’m gonna fuckin’ come if you keep doing that,” he lets out a low, ragged sound caught somewhere between a moan and a laugh.

“I’d rather you come somewhere else,” you tell him, pulling down his shorts and boxers to let his flushed, leaking shaft spring free.

Atsumu takes your face in both hands, kissing you hard and filthy as he unbuttons your pants, sliding them off along with your underwear and leaving both in a forgotten heap on the floor. And when you wrap your legs back around him and rub your slick folds down the length of his cock, you’re already dangerously close to coming from that alone, too. 

He slides a finger into you, muttering a string of expletives under his breath when he feels the sopping squelch of how wet you already are for him. One digit soon becomes two pumping in and out of you, and while it’s still not enough to quell the greedy desperation he’s ignited, he’s barely begun rubbing circles into your aching clit when you’re already shaking in his arms and moaning in the throes of your climax. 

And then he’s stroking himself, groaning softly, like he thinks this is what he has to do now to take care of his throbbing cock. 

Like you’re satisfied already, as if you’ve somehow had your fill of him.

As if two fingers between your legs would ever be enough to encapsulate all that you want of Atsumu fucking Miya. 

(And really, it’s a lot, quite frankly. Now that you’re finally ready to admit it to yourself.)

“Fuck me, Atsumu,” you plead.

He pauses, chest heaving, voice rough as he asks, “Are you sure?”

“Please,” you exhale against his lips, and his mouth slots against yours as he notches his shaft at your entrance and sinks his cock into you.

Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you’re reduced to moans and whimpers while he stretches you open as your entire body floods with pleasure, your mind hazy with desire. Once he bottoms out, you feel so full you want to cry. You want to keep your legs wrapped around his waist and cockwarm him all night. You want him to fuck you stupid. You want to ride his cock until you both can’t move.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, hips rocking as he thrusts in and out of you, your walls fluttering with pleasure at the rhythmic push and drag. “Wanna take you home and do this again and again.”

“Me too,” you tell him, and you can feel the way his cock throbs inside of you at your admission, his fingertips tightening around your waist.

“Good, ‘cause I’m not gonna last much longer,” he admits, grinning against your mouth. 

The pleasure is rapidly building up inside of you again, the filthy slide of Atsumu’s tongue in your mouth only further fanning the flames, one hand trailing back up to tease at your hard nipples.

And you want to tell him, “Same,” because you’re dangerously close to the edge already, years of studiously ignored desire all spilling over into a crazed, insatiable need that’s making your pussy throb.

But instead what you whine is, “Harder.”

Atsumu groans, the noise nearly as lewd as the continuous sound of his cock pumping in and out of your soaking wet cunt, the only warning that he heard you before he picks you up off of the counter, plunging right back into you the moment you’re lying flat on the floor.

With the ground beneath your bodies for purchase, Atsumu begins to roughly pound into you, the fingers of one hand tangling with your own as the other trails toward your clit.

You moan his name repeatedly, like some fucked up carnal prayer on the floor of Onigiri Miya, and as he rubs circles into your swollen clit and whispers your own name just as desperately, you come so hard everything goes white, every sensation in your body drowned out by the sheer downpour of pleasure that you’re uncontrollably shaking with. Atsumu follows suit a moment later, pulling out of you and furiously fisting his cock until hot, thick spurts of cum are splattering all over your chest, groaning as he watches his seed paint your tits.

And just because you’re fairly certain what it’ll do to him, you reach down and swipe a glob off of your nipple while you both try to catch your breath, holding eye contact with him as you lick the cum off of your finger and swallow it. 

Atsumu’s lips part as he stares at you, eyes widening a little bit before he looks down at his cock, which is already twitching again with interest. 

–

Later, when you’re both lying tangled in Atsumu’s sheets, his phone lights up on his nightstand—

Samu: congrats Samu: there is literally a security camera in the shop Samu: also you’re disgusting you own a whole fuckin apartment to fuck in Samu: die slowly

-

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