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motorsportbarbie13 · 7 months ago

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The Yapping Hour is Upon Us

In which Max decides that maybe doing interviews isn't such a bad thing.

Warnings: jos verstappen mention ew Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 2.5k plus social media posts

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TheYappingHour posted:

349,219 likes liked by redbullracing, charlesleclerc, and others TheYappingHour Back at it this week with a very super top secret special guest. I simply can't wait to reveal who's on this weeks pod, you guys! You're going to DIE. (peep the clue in the second picture!) user928 her podcast set up is so aesthetic i can't user0928 RED BULL??? what does this meeeeeean??? >>>user1211 she hasn't done a ton of athletes in the past, maybe she got one of the Red Bull athletes!! user00291 DU DU DU DU MAX VERSTAPPEN. (shhh let me be delulu for a minute) >>>user221 as much as i'd love that, we all know how much Max hates interviews.

There was absolutely no reason why having Max Verstappen on your podcast should be making you this nervous. You’ve interviewed actual heads of state, a former president, and royalty for crying out loud and you’re losing your mind over Max fucking Verstappen? You supposed it came from the fact that you had spent most of your childhood traveling from track to track to watch your dad race in NASCAR, racing was in your blood and you knew how revered and idolized Max was. And how rabid his fans could get. You wanted to get this interview right. Needed to get this interview right. Motorsport were still a huge part of your life, even if you weren’t really outwardly an active fan. You never missed a NASCAR or F1 race and while you considered yourself a Ferrari girlie, Red Bull was most certainly your second team.

“Everything ready?” Your assistant Shannon pokes her head in as you fluff the last throw pillow on the cream colored lounge chair. Scanning the room, everything looks to be in order. The two overstuffed chairs dominate the center of the small recording studio, each with a microphone set up on a small side table next to each chair. Instrumental versions of Taylor Swift songs floated out of small speakers tucked away and a few candles burned in the low light of the studio, creating the exact ambiance you were famous for.

You’d been doing your podcast, The Yapping Hour, for nearly five years now and it was now one of the most popular podcasts being produced. You specialized in relaxed interviews of people that the general public don’t get to see relaxed very often. Your big break had come about 3 years ago when you had somehow managed to land an interview with Michelle Obama, her episode was still the most streamed episode of yours to date. Everyone had fallen in love with your interview style, how you got these normally highly media trained individuals to drop their guard down a little and be real for even just an hour. It gave people such a unique glimpse behind the curtain of fame and your fans ate up every bit of it.

“I think so!” You nod, smoothing down the front of your boyfriend cut jeans even though the denim is perfectly ironed without a single wrinkle.

“Good, because he just pulled in the parking lot.” Shannon smirks. She knows how nervous you are for this interview and is insisting it’s because you have a crush on the driver. Which would utterly unprofessional if it were true. But it wasn’t true. At all. “And he’s driving this matte black Aston Martin.” She closes her eyes as she bites her lip, smirk growing even wider.

“Okay, let’s cool it on the hero worship.” You warn, following Shannon out into the lobby of the building.

Outside, it’s a dreary late April morning in the heart of downtown London. You had traveled from your home base in New York City just for this interview but had been surprised at how much you liked the ambiance and energy in the city. So much so that you had extended your stay a few extra weeks. The good thing about being your own boss of a podcast was that you could literally work from anywhere you had your laptop.

Peering out into the parking lot, you’re surprised to see a lone figure in jeans and what looked to be a Red Bull windbreaker, hustling across the pavement towards the door. When he approaches the door, Shannons steps forward to open the door, a gust of wind whipping at your hair when Max comes bustling in through the doors.

“Hello!” Max’s voice sends involuntary shivers down your spine, a feeling you fight hard to shove down. This is not the time to be a fan girl, you remind yourself.

“Hi Max, thank you so much for joining us today! Can I get you some water or maybe some tea?” Shannons steps forward first, extending her hand.

Max takes it and gives her a wide smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Water is fine, thanks.”

“Max, it’s such a pleasure to meet you.” You step forward then, the heels of your black Louboutain’s clicking on the hardwood floor as you approach him. It takes every ounce of focus you have not to react at what feels like a white hot spark flickering over your skin when his hand touches yours for the first time.

“Pleasure is mine.” He murmurs, cat like smirk replacing the warm smile that had greeted Shannon. Your social media did you absolutely no justice and Max was finding it hard to keep his composure you were so pretty.

“Are we waiting on anyone else or is it just you today?” You ask, eyes darting above his shoulder to see if there was anyone still in the parking lot.

“Why? Will I be needing my body guard today?” He quips as he follows you towards the recording studio.

You pray the dim lights in the studio hide the way you’ve gone pink. “Of course not! It’s just that normally the people I have on the show travel with an…entourage.”

“I don’t like people.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious fact in the universe. “I prefer to travel solo. Besides, I’m no Queen of the Netherlands or Justin Trudeau, I don’t really need an entourage.”

He casually drops two of your biggest interviews like it’s nothing and you feel the pink tinge of your cheeks heat to a crimson red. “You’ve listened to the show then?”

He nods, taking the seat you offer him as Shannon and your AV guy Steve bustle around getting things set up. A bottle of water appears for each of you and you take out the pages of notes you’ve made even though you’ve got all the questions memorized. You like to be prepared and prefer your interviews to be more conversational, less question and answer.

“I like to know what I’m getting myself into.” His eyes hold this glint of mischief that if you were less of a professional, would have you biting your lip and kicking your feet. Truth was, Max had spent an ungodly amount of time on your socials and wikipedia page, obsessing over you and your career.

“And yet you still came.” You tease.

“I did.” He says simply and you can’t help but notice how his gaze briefly drops from your eyes down to your lips and quickly back up. It’s so quick that if you weren’t in the business of watching and observing people, you probably would have missed it. But those baby blue eyes of Max’s are so easy to read, all you can do is grin back at him.

“Well, thank you for making the trek into London today. I do appreciate it.”

You briefly explain how the interview is going to work, how Steve is going to make sure everything is set up and recording, how you’ll post audio and video versions and that he can have final say in anything that goes in or stays out of the interview. You’ve found that a lot of your guests appreciate that little clause and in the five years you’ve been doing the show only a handful of bits have been kept out. You like to think it’s because you’re good at what you do and get people to open up on a level that they feel comfortable with.

Steve finally gives you the okay and you settle into the cozy lounge chair, Max sitting comfortably in the one opposite you.

“Thank you again for joining me today, Max. I’ve got to admit, I was a little surprised when your manager said you’d agreed to come on the show. You don’t do a lot of lengthy interviews and I could only find a handful of podcast appearances over the years. So, why The Yapping Hour? Why now?”

Max takes a sip of water before placing it on the table beside him. His shoulders are relaxed, his ankle sitting on his knee is a causal pose. You’ve become a veritable body language expert since starting the show and you can already tell this is going to be a good interview.

“I like your style.” His blunt answer throws you off for a moment and your cheeks heat. Again. You make a mental note to make sure they edit your complexion in post production to take the blush out. “GP sent me the one you did with Dale Earnhardt Jr a few months ago and I was impressed at how authentic you were. Dale is a character but you got a lot of depth out of him. Your questions went beyond the typical ‘what’s your favorite race track.’”

“Well, thank you. That is quite the compliment coming from you.” For the third time in a short time, you blush at the compliments this man is handing out left and right.

Your eyes flicker above Max’s shoulder to where Shannon and Steve sit, their smug faces tell you that you’re not imagining him flirting with you.

“I have to tell you, I went karting with a few friends in prep for this interview and oh my God, I’ve been sore ever since! I can't imagine how hard an F1 car is on your body. Talk to me a little bit about your training sch-…”

“You went karting as research?” He interrupts you, face a mask of disbelief.

Now it’s your turn to smirk, “Of course, I like to know what I’m getting myself into.” You toss him a wink and enjoy the way your stomach flips when his ears go a bit pink. “My dad beat me by almost 20 seconds and I don’t think I’ll ever hear the end of it, but it was worth it. I can see why so many people get hooked, it was so fun.”

“Karting with a NASCAR legend had to make it a little better though, yeah?”

“You know my dad?” Your brows nearly hit your hairline, you’re so surprised at this. Your dad had been long retired before Max had come onto the racing scene and there wasn’t a huge overlap in fan bases between F1 and NASCAR.

Max nods, “He was racing around the time Jos was in F1. I still remember that one Daytona 500 where he stole the win from Earnhardt Jr on the last lap after he’d led for the entire race.”

You tilt your head back laughing and Max thinks it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever heard, fully entranced by the long column of your neck that’s suddenly exposed. “Oh God, dad is going to die when he hears you know about that race.”

“Have either of you been to an F1 race yet?” A plan begins to form in Max’s head.

“No!" You lean forward to swat at his arm playfullt. I’ve tried a few times but it’s always fallen through. I do watch most of the races though, as long as my schedule permits. Sometimes it’s easier when you guys are in Europe because the races are so early in New York, it’s easy to watch them from bed on Sunday mornings.”

The image of you wrapped up in a fluffy duvet wearing nothing but his t-shirt as you watch him race nearly sends Max into orbit. He blinks furiously, trying to get that vision out of his mind so he can pay attention to you.

“Tell me this then, if you could pick any garage to watch the race which one would it be and why would it be Red Bull?"

You can’t help that laugh that explodes from you then and Max preens under your attention, smile stretching wide across his handsome face. “You know, I could have sworn it was my name on the podcast Instagram page.” You tease, giving him a wink. “You keep asking me questions, I’m going to be out of a job, Verstappen.”

“I can’t help it when the interviewer is much more interesting than I am.” He murmurs, taking another sip of water without taking his eyes off of you.

The rest of the interview continues on for the next two hours and you get so much content you feel a little dizzy at the thought of having to cut over half of the episode. For the first time in the podcast’s history, you may have to split this into two episodes. Max doesn’t mind one bit, finding that he’s not as nervous as he thought he’d be with how easy he finds it talking to you.

You wrap up the interview over an hour past the time you had told Max’s press officer it would last but neither of you make any movement to get up, despite both Shannon and Steve beginning to wrap things up.

“I’m so sorry I kept you this long, Max. I know you’re not a huge fan of lengthy interviews.”

Max just shrugs, “If all interviews were like this, I probably would say yes to a lot more of them.”

You grin over at him as you rise, realizing the sun is setting outside and your stomach is aching for food. Max follows suit, although he feels a clench in his stomach realizing that his time with you is coming to an end.

“Can I ask you something?” He says when Shannon and Steve walk out of the studio, leaving the two of you alone.

You look up at him and nod earnestly, “Of course!”

“Why didn’t you ask me about my childhood? Usually it’s one of the first things people ask me, especially in these kinds of interviews.”

You shrug, face heating at being found out. “Like you, I do my research and I figured you might not want to talk about that part of your life. I want my guests to feel comfortable when they come on the show, not immediately put on the defensive. I guess I thought there were other more important topics…”

Your words hang in the air, heavy between you two. Something in Max’s chest aches at the simple kindness you’ve extended him. It’s true, he doesn’t like revisiting his childhood very often, especially when it’s recorded and will be put on the internet. His dad was very much still in his life, obviously, and while he had done a lot of work to move past his childhood, it was still painful to talk about.

“Thats…wow. Thank you.” Is all he can manage, voice thick with emotion.

“Of course.” You murmur, reaching out to touch his elbow in what you hope comes across as a comforting gesture.

Max’s eyes drop to where your slender fingers rest on his bare arm before a smile stretches back across his face. “I know it’s kind of last minute but you were saying earlier you’d never been to a race. We’re in Miami next weekend and I’d love it if you were my guest…”

You can’t help the flutter in your chest at how nervous he appears standing before you. Your eyes dart over to Shannon, the official keeper of your schedule and are delighted when she nods vigorously, phone in hand with your calendar already pulled up. You made a mental note to give that girl a raise ASAP. “I would love to, Max.”

“Yeah?” He sounds almost shocked that you had agreed so quickly.

“Yeah.” You say, a hint of a giggle at the edge of your voice.

“How about I take you out to dinner tonight and we can work out the details.”

“Why Max Verstappen, I had no idea you were this smooth.”

TheYappingHour posted

987,392 likes liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, susiewolff, and others TheYappingHour SURPRISE! Part one of my interview with none other than 3 time F1 world champion Max Verstappen is live on all socials RIGHT NOW. (yeah, I said part 1! We both yapped so much you're getting a part two next week!) user9382 the chemistry between these two was OFF THE CHARTS >>>user111 ikr? i felt like i was interrupting something the entire hour. MaxVerstappen1 it was a pleasure meeting you! can't wait to see you in Miami this weekend! >>>user2999 MAX WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T WAIT TO SEE HER IN MIAMI. >>>user999 stfu she is so coming to the Miami race?? MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN. user3210 has she ever done a two parter before??? not even the Queen of the Netherlands got a two parter!! user9928 i don't think i've ever seen Max this relaxed during an interview EVER. >>>user222 seriously! He was like a little boy with a crush then entire time.

yourpersonalinsta posted

234,100 likes liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, michelle obama, and others yourpersonalinsta we yapped some more and stuffed our faces. til next time, maxie! (tagged: maxverstappen1) user999 not michelle obama herself in the likes maxverstappen1 you're going to be trouble in miami, aren't you? >>>yourpersonalinsta what do you think? ;) >>>user9932 oh my godddddd user028 this is the couple i didn't know i needed

tag list (some of you only requested to be on a series tag list but i am not organized enough for that. lmk if you want to be removed!! also fingers crossed this tag list works this time ffs. sorry!)

@anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @strawberryy-kiwii @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @unknownmystery22 @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream

#f1 #formula 1 #max verstappen #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fluff

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menagerofmischief · 6 months ago

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pretty and pierced -> ln4

this came to me in a dream, 18+ also, written in all lowercase, sorry part one | part two | part three

piercer!lando who you meet on a night out with friends. you're in a crowded club, dancing with your friends when one of them tugs on your arm.

"girl!" gerry, your best friend, screams at you over the loud music. "hottie alert! and he's been looking at you like he wants to eat you!" she giggles, pointing her finger and you follow it, your eyes landing on lando.

he's standing near the bar, talking with a few friends, but his eyes are glued on you. the second he notices you looking at him, he smirks, raising his hands to wave his fingers at you before beckoning you over.

gerry practically screams into your ear, already a bit drunk from all the shots she had, and grips your arm. "you have to go!" she tells you, shaking your shoulders before her arms slip down to your top, pulling it a bit lower to expose more of your cleavage.

she gives you a sultry look before pushing you into the crowd and towards the bar. "have fun!" she calls out before you're too far away to hear her from the music.

you laugh to yourself as you make you way over to the bar, where lando's standing and watching you approach with hungry eyes.

'hi!' he smiles, speaking when you're finally near enough to be able to even remotely hear him over the loud songs blaring from the speakers. "I'm lando."

you smile back at him, "y/n."

"y/n," he repeats, your name rolling off his tongue, sounding sweeter than honey. "pretty name for a pretty girl," he says, a laugh slipping past his lips when you blush. "let me buy you a drink."

you're a few drinks deep, giggling at his cheesy jokes when a half rational thought crosses your mind. "so, what do you do, lando?"

he grins, running a hand trough his curls. "I own a small tattoo and piercing studio," he says and you squeal with delight.

"really?!" you ask, grabbing onto his arm, your fruity cocktail pushed to the side. "I always wanted to get a piercing!"

"really?" lando echoes, his tone slightly teasing. "what kind?"

your cheeks burn, eyes dropping a bit lower as you suddenly get shy, and he can't help but be amused. his fingers sneak under your chin, lifting it up so you meet his eyes. "come on now, princess, don't go all shy on me. what piercing do you want?"

you don't know if it's possible to blush anymore but you certainly do. "I always wanted to get my nipples pierced," you murmur, but lando catches it, his eyes gleaming. "even got an appointment once, but I chickened out last minute."

a smirk spreads on his lips, and there's a look you can't quiet place in his eyes. "how about I do them for you?" he offers, and you nearly choke on your own saliva. "on the house."

"oh - I couldn't possibly -" you begin to protest, but he cuts you off.

"why not, princess?" he asks, "I'm offering, aren't I?" his eyes follow the curve of your body, greedily staring at your chest. "and don't you worry, I'll be gentle."

you have to bite your lip to force yourself not to whimper, paddling deeper into an unknown territory with him.

"so what do you say?" he asks and your eyes widen when you catch the implication.

"you mean now?"

"why the hell not?"

after a second of overthinking you grab your glass, downing the rest of the fruity drink in one go before looking back at him, nodding your head. "you know what? why the hell not!"

and that's the story of how you ended up in lando's tattoo studio that night. the place was closed, and a bit cold if you were being honest. you awkward sat on the tattoo bed as lando gathered all the necessary stuff.

"you change your mind yet princess?" he teased, making sure all the needles were sterilized.

you laughed, pressing your palms down on the leather of the bed. "I might if you keep being so slow!" you teased back and he laughed.

"well all done now," he said, approaching you with a metal tray. "you might wanna ..." he gestured to your top, "I still haven't mastered piercing over clothes."

you giggled, still feeling a bit tipsy from all the previous drinks, your nerves easing up a little. you reaches for the hem of your top, grabbing it with both hands and pulling it over your head. after a second of hesitation you unclasped your bra, putting it next to your shirt.

lando groaned, taking in the sight of your naked chest, nipples pebbled and erect from the chilly air in the studio. he reached out for you, hands cupping your tits, groping them greedily. "you ready?"

"yes" you said, a sigh falling past your lips as his hands groped you.

lando lifted up the needle and you tensed, awaiting the pain. instead he leaned forward, lips closing around one of your nipples and sucking, making you whine at the sensation.

"what are you -" you couldn't finish, whining when his teeth nipped at your nipple, as the same time you felt a short painful sensation in your other nipple, head snapping to look and your eyes zeroed in on the needle piercing your nipple.

you exhaled a breath and lando pulled away, grinning up at you wickedly. "didn't even feel it, did you princess?"

you shook your head, feeling your cheeks burn. lando laughed, inserting the piercing and adjusting it so it wasn't too tight. he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your nipple, making your body twitch.

"looks good," he said, preparing for the other nipple.

one of his hands cupped your other breast, squeezing once before he let his fingers trace around your pebbled nipple. you held you breath as his fingers pinched the nipple, distracting you enough to not notice the needle, just like the last time, until he was already done.

"holy shit," you breathed out as he adjusted the second piercing, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the freshly pierced nipple.

he pulled away, his hungry eyes focused on your tits. "they suit you well, princess." he purred, his hands cupping your tits.

suddenly he pulled away completely, taking off his gloves and approaching the counter, searching around for a bit before pulling out a piece of paper and a pen. he scribbled something quickly before returning to your side.

"don't put the bra on," he said when you reached for the undergarment. "let it breathe a bit, wear only the top." he grabbed the bra away, a mischievous look on his face. "and I'll keep this."

you obeyed, putting on your top. lando handed you the piece of paper and you looked at the number written on it. he must have seen the confusion on your face because he quickly clarified.

"that's my personal number," he purred, smiling at you. "the healing takes about 6 to 8 weeks, you should send me updates, picture updates, so I can make sure everything is healing well."

"oh, is that so?" you teased back, finally finding your voice again.

"oh yes!" he nodded, "I take very serious care, have to make sure everything is alright, and I gotta be able to see it to confirm it."

he walked you over to the door, lingering a bit as his eyes slid over your body. with a last surge of confidence he leaned forward and pressed a short teasing kiss to your lips, pulling away to leave you wanting more.

"and if you want any more piercing, you know where I am."

please give this one some love (likes and reblogs) it's my crazy baby also I'm thinking reader gets a clit piercing next but idk!!

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starsandsuch · 3 months ago

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Libra Through The Houses: Where Do You Appreciate ✨Aesthetics✨ The Most 🍒

🎀 To put it bluntly: where are you superficial af? 😌💅😂

🎀 Libra represents the beautification of something. So where in your life do you prefer things to be beautiful?

🎀 Check the house you have Libra. Can work for sidereal or tropical.

Libra 1H: you want your physical appearance to look good. Always sporting your ideal hair, makeup, clothes, nails etc. You feel most authentic when you look physically beautiful. Since your physical appearance matters a lot to you, you spend a lot of money on ✨beautification✨. No matter what you strive to achieve your “desired appearance”.

Libra 2H: food has to look good for you to eat it. If the food don’t look good you ain’t eating it. This placement reminds me of someone who loves those little perfect looking pastries, cakes, deserts. You like foods that have an aesthetically pleasing look to it like sushi for example 🍣. You like to have a pretty wallet/purse. You may have custom design credit cards that are pink/sparkly/hello kitty. You guys have thee prettiest ID pictures! Your passport picture eats too. You are the person to be full glam and bring a ring light to the DMV to take your ID pic😂. Ok diva📸.

Libra 3H: oop I’m bouta spill your tea rn. You are the person in school with thee most aesthetic pencils, pens, backpacks. Your school supplies had to eat okur💅📚. Lisa Frank notebook girly. Rae Dunn stationary. Gel pens. You also love having pretty friends, in HS you could’ve been part of a clique of pretty girls. In present day you like your tech devices to have aesthetically pleasing phone cases, matching colors of airpod case, MacBook etc. You love cute stationary! You have to have aesthetically appealing social media presence! Even if you have socials where you don’t show ur face directly, whatever you are doing it HAS to look good. Masters of the ✨curated✨ IG feed. Hello Leo risings yes you take the prettiest pictures and have the cutest Instagram feed 🙄😘😂.

Libra 4H: your home has to be aesthetically pleasing. You don’t play about your decor. Even if you don’t have a huge budget, you like to make your space look ✨pretty✨. My libra 4H friends (cancer risings) in college, used to have the cutest dorm rooms. Which a lot of the time it’s hard to make a dorm room look cute LOL. You all have peaceful, clean homes with tasteful aesthetic touches💅. You like having a pretty car too. If your car doesn’t look good you don’t wanna drive it😭.

Libra 5H: you date the most attractive people. Your romantic interests have to be your “type”. What is your type ? PRETTY. They have to look good. You love bad b!tches that’s your f*ckn problem! 😂 . You also have to have your creative projects look aesthetically pleasing as well. You may make beautiful art. Clothes. You have to look pretty during performances etc. It’s likely that your future kids are beautiful.

Libra 6H: first of all I love you guys. Why ? Bc you all do thee BEST beauty services ✨. Alot of y’all are Taurus risings (applies to Taurus sun + moons too!) and every beauty service I’ve gotten from people with this placement have been on point. Facials, lash extensions, waxing, eyebrow micro-blading. You guys OWN the beauty service/procedure industry. You also HAVE to work in an environment that is aesthetically pleasing. A nice salon, wax studio, office etc. Also a lot of you guys have beautiful pets. Your dog, cat, etc are so adorable! You choose your pet based on how cute it is.

Libra 7H: of course your romantic partner has to be good looking. That’s high on your standards list be honest. People will say: “idc about physical appearance only the inside matters😇” and you’re like: “not to ME, y’all be easy though”😂😭. You will likely have a good looking spouse. It also matters that you and your spouse look good TOGETHER. You guys like being the “swaggy” couple. “Fashion Killas”. “Couple goals”etc. First impressions matter to you a lot, you like to look pretty when you first meet people. You also in general love mingling and socializing with beautiful people.

Libra 8H: you all like having a pretty kitty 🐱. It’s possible you do upkeep on it, waxing, bleaching, laser etc. People with this placement are so proud of it too they will brag on it. Ok diva 😂👑 💅. You look pretty even after undergoing challenging or traumatic situations. This is the placement of someone who has the biggest glow up after a breakup! “Post f*ckboy glow” ✨😌. Also how do you look so expensive on a budget?! People assume you wear designer even if it is from fashionnova ?

Libra 9H: the places you travel have to be aesthetically pleasing. You aren’t the type to go on vacay and do it the gritty way, nope. You need pretty accommodations, beautiful views, bringing your good camera to capture everything in an aesthetic way. People with this placement have the best travel photo dumps. You guys make people wanna visit places after you been there! Ok travel influencer.✈️ Also whatever university you attend has to have pleasing campus aesthetics. USC comes to mind✨ they film so many movies there.

Libra 10H: the public thinks you’re so beautiful! I’ll just say it first since we’re all thinking it. You are thee pretty girl, baddie, dollface, all of the above🎀💅. The place that you work has to be aesthetically pleasing. You work somewhere with pretty architecture, near a nice garden, in a pretty part of the city. Your reputation is one where you are perceived as a well put together, well dressed, good looking person.

Libra 11H: oop this one is pretty obvious. You love having pretty friends 🤩. You like being surrounded by baddies. “I love bad b!tches that’s my f*ckn problem!” 😂 . Your life goals and aspirations involve making a beautiful life for yourself, literally. Pretty face, pretty body, pretty home, pretty bank account. Your social media presence has to be aesthetically pleasing. You take the prettiest IG pics probably 😏.

Libra 12H: you are the person to keep all your pretty, valuable items hidden. Collecting pretty clothes, makeup, accessories, jewelry. Do you need it, no?? But it HAS to be in your archive. You have to hoard ✨pretty trickets✨. You also have aesthetically pleasing spiritual tools, the cutest tarot deck, pretty incense holder, gorgeous crystals. When you are participating in spiritual practices you prefer the surroundings to be aesthetically appealing. No you are not meditating on the dirty ground, doing spells in a cave, you’re doing it on the cutest yoga mat money can buy 😌🧘‍♀️. Your altar is aesthetically pleasing. You have to have a pretty bed with pretty bedding 🛏😍.

#astrology #astro observations #astrology observations #libra #libra midheaven #birth chart #libra rising #mariah carey #starsandsuch #vedic astro observations #2025

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peachpitfics · 1 year ago

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Guilty as Sin

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton asks you to accompany him to his private studio, to show you some of the art he's been working on. You find a little more than you were expecting.

Length: 3k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (female receiving), Penetrative sex, Unprotected sex.

a/n: find pt 2 here!

Bridgerton master list

"Good evening, y/n," A proud voice echoed behind you, discovering your hiding spot in the darkest corner, admiring Lady Danbury's art to appear busy. You didn't bother to turn and greet him, he always seemed to find you at these social events, even if you weren't outwardly interested in him, he persisted. Benedict Bridgerton slid into the space next to you as if it were designed for him, cheekily scanning you face for a reaction.

You met at Lady Danbury's ball 3 seasons previous. Your brother was holding out hope for a match this season, ignoring your contentedness for your own company. Benedict had never shown any interest in any young lady - he did, however, find amusement in torturing you this way.

"Bridgerton," You barely mumbled a response, hoping he would find another to bother this evening. Yet there he remained, exchanging his attention for the painting you were looking at.

"There are far better paintings in this ballroom" He remarked, a little scoff sounding off.

"Yes, I am sure there are. However, this one is positioned perfectly" Still, you avoided eye contact and angled your body away from him. He was definitely not the same as the other Bridgerton men. Benedict was frivolous and artistic, lost in his own hedonistic world of luxury and pleasure. Perhaps it was jealousy that ruled your opinion of Benedict.

"Ah, yes. I truly have never seen a damp, dark corner without you in it, you know?" He chuckled, "Why do you pretend to be interested in art, when you could be watching whatever is unfolding behind you? I'm sure the numerous scandals and embarrassing events you would witness would be far more interesting" He asked, there was even a hint of genuine curiosity in his words.

You paused for a moment, contemplating even continuing this conversation or leaving to find your brother or mother.

"Actually, I rather enjoy art. I am more interested in sculpture or ceramics, but I will endure whatever I have to to get through this evening and every other evening like it this season" You spilled. Benedict was stunned, his eyebrows raised and his blinks steady in shock.

"I didn't know you had a like for such things" Benedict said serenely.

"Of course not, I am certain you thought my only interests were embroidery or pianoforte, like every other simpering mess in this ballroom" You thought your snarky remark was under your breath, but Benedict did manage to hear. He breathed a heady laugh through his nose and took a sip of his lemonade.

"Would you be interested in viewing some of my works?" Benedict pondered aloud, finally dragging your eyes to meet his. It seemed sincere - which was not something you often saw from him. Whilst he was a shameless flirt, you never indulged him like some of the other young ladies. It was obvious that he viewed you as some sort of challenge, but you would never give in.

"Is that a serious invitation?" You asked, taken aback.

"Yes, absolutely. Art is potentially the only thing I do take seriously. I would love to show you, if you would like to see it" He almost bowed, as if the pursuit of his art was the most noble thing about him. This shift in his personality made him less repulsive, it intrigued you. Turning to face him, for the first time in so many months, throwing off his balance slightly, you held your hand out for him to take.

"You would like to see it now?" His brow furrowed, eyes asking permission to take your hand and lead you out to the carriages.

"Why not? We've been to this ball numerous times before, it will not be getting any more interesting" With the softest of smiles decorating your normally sour face, Benedict took your hand and began walking outside with you, watching nervously as people ignored your presence.

"Will this not be damning to your marriage prospects?" Benedict leaned over to whisper in your ear, an element of concern riding along his words.

You gave him a pitiful smile, "What prospects?". Not a single soul noticed the two of you leaving the ball. Benedict held the carriage door open for you and held your hand as you stepped up into it.

"I've never slipped out of an event quite like that" He remarked, closing the door, sitting opposite you.

"Well, in truth, I thought perhaps someone might have stopped us, just because of you… But, I suppose, my power of invisibility is shared with the person I am escaping with" Your eyebrows flicked up. Benedict could not discern whether you were happy or not to fly out of the view of the ton. While it was a blessing most days, you were afforded your privacy and peace. Perfect silence. There were many other days filled with loneliness, the madness of having to hear your own voice in your head just to fill the quiet.

The carriage ride was slightly uncomfortable, the two of you had never had to be alone like this. You were delivered to Benedict's college where he had been studying art and he led you towards his private studio. Benedict's hand reached out for the door handle, stopping short, and spinning to look at you, back pressed against the door.

"I presume you understand I don't bring people here," He paused, his demeanour was soft and vulnerable, "Be gentle with me". He waited for acknowledgment on what he was saying, and with a nod of promise from you, he opened the door. You both walked inside in sweet silence as you took in the most beautiful sight. The room was littered with parchment, sketches, canvases. Drabs of colour, charcoal and lead lit only by low candlelight as Benedict struck the match. This was the most personal gesture of friendship you had ever experienced, it was like peering through window into Benedict Bridgerton's mind - a place he only has the keys to. Several desks were patterned around the room, a small platform in the centre of the room, drying racks on the far left. You were surprised by this unapologetically intimate space, and even more impressed by the immense talent you were witnessing.

"What are you working on currently?" You did not mean for the excitement of the room to fill you up so keenly. Benedict had such a hard time trying to read your reaction, your manner and tone were thrilling to him.

"Oh, please" He gestured towards a far table, where an easel stood facing the window, "I am learning about portraiture this semester. This is something I am doing for my youngest brother, Gregory, for his birthday" His hand sailed past your lower back, shuffling you both around. A deliciously electric pulse passed over your body, goose bumps erupting in a rolling wave quickly trailing behind.

"Benedict, this is incredible" You gasped, your hands covering your mouth with astonishment.

Oddly, he stepped back from you and placed his hand on his heart.

"What did I say?" You smiled uncomfortably.

His face softened, his eyes fluttering peacefully, "My name. That is the first time, you have ever said my name" A flash of teeth in his grin made your heart jump its next beat. There was a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks, your eyes flicked between Benedict's and the floor.

"I apologise" Admittedly, you had never given him a chance to show how utterly human he was. When he had asked you to come to the studio, you wondered whether the room would be filled to the brim of paintings of naked women. How wrong you were - finding yourself surrounded by paintings and scrawling's of every member of his family. You dug around, flicking through sketchbooks, diaries.

"Have you found a favourite?" He meandered around the room after you, hands tucked behind his back like a gentleman, observing.

"This one, is my favourite" You held up a side profile of Violet Bridgerton, done entirely in variants and shades of their family colours.

"I am yet to show her that one, do you think I should?" He asked, and you sensed he truly valued your opinion here.

"Yes! If I had half your talent, I would have filled my family's home with my work" You chuckled, laying the canvas down on the current desk you were visiting.

You moved around the other side of the room, noticing a section of the room more damp, and darkly lit, compared to the rest of the studio. There stood an easel with a large drape thrown over it, and several canvases stacked betwixt it and the wall. This struck a chord of curiosity in you that could not be contained, you almost dashed forward to pull the drape down.

"No! Wait, not those!" Benedict rasped, darting forward to try and stop you. It was too late, the cream-coloured drape had coiled to the floor and revealed what Benedict did not want you to see.

Brow furrowing, you stood back, taking in what you were seeing for the first time. Here, on the easel, an unfinished portrait, of you.

"That's -- That's private" Benedict cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Is this… me?" You didn't know whether to be flattered, impressed, or worried. Had he done this from memory? That was when it occurred to you to look down. Picking up, and flicking through the canvases, they were all you. There were maybe six or seven of them, all in different poses, of differing angles. Had he taken such notice of you to be able to do this from memory? The detail in your face, your hair and even dresses you had worn in past seasons.

"This is…" You shook your head, placing the canvases back. Benedict stood behind you, leaving a distance so as not to make this more uncomfortable than it already was. His hands were pressed together at his lips as if he were praying, wearily hanging on for your next words.

"No one has ever seen me like this, or rather, at all" You sighed.

"I see you as you are" Benedict replied too quickly.

"And how is that?"

There was a long pause, an internal struggle between what he wanted to say and what he should.

"I see… the raw soulfulness of your gaze. The divine sway in your walk. The sensual ruthlessness of your words. The confidence of your acceptance. I have watched, and waited, and wallowed in avaricious longing" Benedict heaved in a deep breath, "Every line, every curve, every shade I fear is a figment of my imagination until I see you again, just so that I might commit a little more to memory".

Benedict's eye cast low, his discomposure becoming more and more apparent. You were not to know that the one person you had been avoiding for the past several seasons had been perceiving you exactly as you had always dreamed. Perhaps it was not Benedict's personality that made you keep him at arm’s length, but rather your own.

You bound forward, slightly tripping on your gown, throwing yourself in the second Bridgerton brother's arms. In the instant he caught you, you planted the shyest of kisses on his unsuspecting lips. Benedict chuckled sweetly, lifting you to stand on your own two feet again, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into to a longer, more fervent kiss. His lips were much softer than you were anticipating, gentle and cool against your own. Benedict's tongue dipped into yours, his kiss still passionately intoxicating. You parted for a moment, both of you breathing a little heavier now. Benedict took a step back, straightening his dress clothes and composing himself.

"I apologise, miss y/n"

"Why do you apologise? I am the one who owes you" You stammered.

"I am just glad that no one saw us, I will not have you ruined. I will not be the one that ruins you" Benedict stumbled over his words, words filled with such consideration and respect for you and your standing in society.

Panting still, bosom heaving over the corset, you thought about what he was saying. You thought about your "prospects".

Taking one large step forward, pressing your body against his, you leaned up as if to kiss Mr Bridgerton's cheek goodbye.

"Ruin me" You breathed, begged, into his ear, hands wrapping around his neck, your breath hitching in your throat as Benedict swooped you into his arms, carrying you to the nearest desk. He placed your behind on the edge of the desk, moving to sweep every piece of art clattering to the floor before turning his attention back to you. Your legs wrapped around his thighs, his lips crashing into you, his tongue fiercely caressing yours. Much to Benedict's surprise, you slipped your arms out of your dress, pushing the fabric down around your hips.

Stunned and dramatic shock shot across his face as he looked upon your upper body in your corset. Benedict blinked furiously, as if trying to regain control of his sense.

"May I?" He took hold of the fabric around your waist, pulling it out from under you as you lifted yourself slightly, signalling a loud yes. Sitting in your undergarments, Benedict wrapped his arms around your body, expertly fiddling with the laces as you nodded fervently into his delectable kisses. You grinned into his mouth, feeling the corset loosen quickly – he had done this before. Your fingers fumbled along the seam of his pants, unfurling the tucked fabric of his dress shirt, fiddling with the buttons of his overcoat.

Benedict stopped, throwing his coat across the room and removing his dress shirt as frantically as possible. It took only seconds for his eyes to widen at your naked body, sitting on the desk before him.

"Holy God" He exhaled, lunging forward, thrusting his hand into your hair, pulling you into a devilish kiss. His hands curved under your behind, lifting you forward to the very edge of the table before falling to his knees before you as if you were divine, and he, a devout worshipper at the altar. Littering kisses down your inner thigh, his nose nestling into the soft nest of hair at your mound, he breathed heavily, groaning with pleasure. Benedict's tongue slipped between your folds, circling the most sensitive spot on your body, your hands sliding into his hair, pulling gently as his pace quickened and steadied in a repetitive manner. Never had you felt so safe and yet so powerful, holding Benedict's head in place between your thighs. Letting out soft, melodic moans, tangling your fingers amongst his hair, finding your hips having a mind of their own as they ground against him. The sheer coarseness of Benedict's dawning facial hair and the soft, warmth of his darting tongue were plenty enough to push your mind to the edge of the human experience. Your head turned dreamy, light, whilst your body convulsed and squeezed Benedict's head between your thighs.

Panting softly, Benedict remained, placing delicate kisses where his tongue had just performed. As your body relaxed into him again, Benedict appeared from the floor, kissing you again, to lay you backward on the table, your own sweetness on your tongue now. He stood before you, bare torso, undoing his dress pants. Excitement pulsed through you, propping yourself onto your elbows to watch. You had heard other ladies discuss this in the depths of their personal conversations but had never really learned anything from them. It was a topic of great interest.

Freeing himself before you, your enlarging eyes took in his length as he held himself in his hand. "Allow me?" Benedict looked down at you, sordid passion aflame in his eyes. You gave a clear, concise nod. Benedict moved closer between your thighs, adjusting your legs, and placing himself at your entrance. With both hands sprawled over the space between your belly and your hips, Benedict slowly pushed forward, eliciting guttural moans from your lips. But he never looked away from you, he never closed his eyes for more than a half-second. His desire burned out of him, his eyes searing down on you and in helplessness, you exuded wanton need in return.

You wished this act were eternal, completely unending. Every thrust an indiscreet attempt at conveying his affections for you. His hand found its way to caressing your cheek, his teeth nipping at your neck as you moaned his name.

“Benedict” You sighed without inhibition. The sound of your voice sent Benedict into a frenzy, his thrusts harder now and full-fledged. His sinful grunts, echoing across the studio, came to a hot, explicit apex as he buried himself as deeply as possible inside of you.

He looked down at you dreamily, his eyes heavy with pleasure, running his thumb over your bottom lip. Benedict stepped away, reaching for his dress pants, and sitting on to the ground in front of you – you moved to sit next to him, surrounded by the tables previous contents.

“You are wonderful. I could never capture such an essence, in any art form. You are transcendent” Benedict’s words were slow, the ruse of his silly exterior worn away.

“I much prefer this version of you” You gave a smug smile, both of you avoiding eye contact.

“As I do you” He retorted, chortling alongside you. The long, comfortable tired silence between you was broken only when Benedict cleared his throat.

“Y/n,” Benedict spoke up, “I think—No, I am quite certain, I love you” He admitted, holding his hand out, bridging the space between your mostly naked bodies, waiting for you to take it.

“I do believe I too am guilty of loving you” You responded, laying your hand gently in his. Leaning to meet in the middle, sharing a sentimental, sweet kiss and smiling into each other. Benedict jumped up, pants still undone around his waist, he pulled you to your feet.

“Come, I should like to draw you” He posed you naturally on the platform in the centre of the room. You watched him scramble about the room, looking for his implements.

“Like this!?” You gestured to yourself, completely nude on the dais.

“Yes, precisely like this” Benedict growled ardently, putting his pencil to his parchment.

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If you would like to be tagged in any upcoming Bridgerton fanfictions written by me, please let me know and I will add you to a taglist!

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kyunghwannie · 1 month ago

Text

"Velvet Restraint"

Myoui Mina x M!Reader

➤ Word Count: 13.2K ➤Tags (18+): Domination/Submission, Possessiveness/ Jealousy, Mommy Vibes, Spanking (thighs, chest), Hair Pulling, Bondage (a little), Dirty Talk, Choking, Face-Sitting, Blindfolding (temporary), Rough Sex, Orgasm Denial, Temperature Play (a little) ,Face Fucking, Edging, Mutual Masturbation, Rimming, Anal Gape, Cum-painting, A2M

➤Teaser: She was elegance in motion—graceful, poised, untouchable. But when jealousy laced her soft voice and her touch turned commanding, Realizations dawn upon something dangerous: beneath Mina’s calm, there lived a storm... and tonight, it had only one target—you.

➤Note: Nothing major stuff. I was just extremely hormonal for my queen Minari. And this was requested with a minor plot so yeah.

The last flashes of the camera still flickered in your vision as you stepped aside, watching the TWICE girls gather around the monitor to check the final shots. Their energy was infectious—chattering, laughing, half-teasing each other as they reviewed their poses. You tucked your hands into the pockets of your slacks, wearing that small, casual smile you didn’t even realize always lingered around them.

"Y/N, come here!" Dahyun called out brightly, beckoning you with a wiggle of her fingers. "You have to see this one. I think I’m finally mastering my 'mysterious' face."

You laughed, stepping up beside her. "Mysterious? You look like you're hiding a secret from the entire planet."

Dahyun gave a mock gasp, elbowing you lightly in the side, her white blazer crinkling with the movement. "That was the point!"

Nearby, Jeongyeon snorted. "No, no, Y/N’s right. You look like you just committed a crime." She nudged your arm conspiratorially. "See? This is why we need his feedback. He's brutally honest but still makes you feel good about it."

"It's a skill," you joked, tossing a wink at Jeongyeon, who exaggerated a swoon for comedic effect.

The easy banter continued. Sana joined, slipping an arm casually through yours, resting her head dramatically against your shoulder. "Y/N always makes everyone feel pretty. It’s unfair."

You glanced down at her, grinning. "You're acting like you need me to tell you that, Sana. You practically invented 'pretty.'"

She laughed, her hair brushing your arm. In the background, a faint click of heels echoed against the polished floors, almost drowned out by the voices around you.

You barely caught the flash of dark, observant eyes—Mina, a few feet away, standing almost perfectly still beside the drinks table, her fingers lightly curled around a bottled water she hadn’t opened. She said nothing, simply watching, her posture so elegant and composed that it blended into the white-and-gold decor of the studio.

You didn’t think much of it. Mina was always a little quieter after shoots, and you figured she was just letting the others have their moment. After all, the chemistry you had with them wasn’t anything romantic; it was warmth, familiarity—the kind of easy relationship that naturally bloomed after months of working together.

Still, you peeled away slightly from Sana, giving her a gentle pat on the hand before slipping free of her arm. You didn’t want anyone, especially Mina, thinking you were being careless.

"Alright, Miss Visual," you teased Dahyun instead, turning to her next. "Let’s see this masterpiece."

She showed you her favorite shot, her cheeks puffing out in faux seriousness as you studied it. You nodded thoughtfully, pursing your lips. "Honestly?" you said, making her lean in eagerly. "You look like you're planning world domination. But like, in a very fashionable way."

Dahyun burst out laughing, slapping your arm playfully. "I’ll take it! Queen behavior only!"

Chaeyoung wandered over, grabbing your sleeve. "Oppa, you gotta tell them I looked cooler, though," she demanded with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I had that 'don't mess with me' vibe."

You glanced at her shots, pretending to squint in deep examination. "Mmm... more like 'cute but pretending to be dangerous.' Like a kitten trying to growl."

"Yah!" she protested, whacking your arm as Tzuyu giggled behind her hand.

The laughter around you was natural, easy. You gave and received it without thought, radiating that casual affection you always carried—a warmth that had become part of who you were to them.

Still, somewhere at the back of your mind, you caught it—a feeling, a prickling on your skin. A gaze. It wasn’t hostile, but it was sharp. Heavy. Watching.

You turned your head just slightly. Mina hadn't moved. She hadn't smiled, hadn’t joined the circle. She merely stood there, her posture rigid yet graceful, her gaze lingering on you with something unreadable in its depths.

You lifted a hand slightly, giving her a small smile across the space. An invitation.

She didn’t return it. Instead, she took a small, deliberate sip from her water, set it back down with a soft click, and walked towards you, slow and composed like a ripple moving through still water.

The chatter around you didn't even falter. The girls kept laughing, arguing lightheartedly about whose photos were better. No one seemed to notice how Mina's eyes never left you.

She stopped close—closer than she usually would when others were around. Her voice was low, soft enough only for you to hear, but carrying a firm weight beneath it.

"Y/N," she said, her tone wrapped in velvet but unmistakably commanding. "We should go now."

You blinked, slightly caught off guard. "Already? I thought you wanted to—"

Mina’s hand brushed your wrist lightly, the briefest contact, but it silenced whatever you were about to say. There was no anger in her expression. No open jealousy. Mina wasn't the type to make a scene.

But her eyes—those deep, endless eyes—held something else entirely. A quiet decision. A possessive glint hidden behind her usual demure calm.

You swallowed down your protest. Something about the way she was looking at you... You knew better than to argue.

"Alright," you said quietly, flashing an apologetic glance at the rest of the group. "I’m heading out with Mina. Great job today, everyone."

They barely batted an eye, waving you off with playful goodbyes and last-minute jokes about working hard for the next shoot.

But as you stepped away, Mina stayed close—closer than normal, her presence a quiet tether between you. You didn’t even realize until you passed through the exit doors just how tightly your heart was pounding.

And Mina... Mina hadn't said another word. But somehow, you could feel the storm she was carefully, elegantly holding back.

The car door clicked shut behind you with a sound that felt too loud in the suffocating silence. Mina’s fingers curled around the steering wheel, her manicured nails—usually so pristine—digging just slightly into the leather. The engine purred to life, smooth and controlled, just like her.

You stole a glance at her profile. The streetlights flickered across her face as she pulled out of the parking garage, casting shadows over the sharp line of her jaw, the unreadable set of her lips. She hadn’t looked at you once since you got in.

Fuck.

You shifted in your seat, the weight of her silence pressing down on you. "Mina—"

"Seatbelt," she murmured, her voice soft but edged with something that made your stomach tighten.

You obeyed instantly, the click of the buckle sounding like a lock snapping into place.

The drive was agonizing. Mina navigated the streets with her usual grace, but there was a tension in her shoulders, a quiet restraint in the way her fingers flexed against the wheel every time you opened your mouth—then thought better of it.

You tried again. "You know I wasn’t—"

A red light. The car rolled to a stop. Mina finally turned her head, her dark eyes meeting yours with a slow, deliberate intensity that stole the breath from your lungs.

"Do I look like I want to talk right now?"

Her voice was silk wrapped around steel.

You swallowed hard. The air between you thickened, charged with something dangerous—something that coiled low in your gut and made your fingers twitch against your thighs.

Mina held your gaze for a heartbeat longer before turning back to the road, her lips parting just enough to let out a slow, controlled exhale.

The light turned green. She didn’t speak again.

But the way her thigh brushed against the gearshift—the way her skirt rode up just slightly, revealing the barest hint of toned skin—every tiny movement felt like a taunt. A promise.

The city lights blurred past the window as Mina drove in silence, her slender fingers tightening ever so slightly on the steering wheel. You watched the neon signs reflect in her dark eyes, those beautiful pools usually so warm but now cold as polished onyx.

Was it really about the joking around with the members? You replayed the moments in your head—Dahyun's playful elbow, Sana's arm linked with yours, Chaeyoung's whiny "Oppa." Nothing out of the ordinary. Just the usual easy camaraderie you'd built with all of them over time.

But Mina... Mina wasn't looking at you. Mina wasn't speaking. And Mina never shut you out like this unless something had really gotten under her skin.

"Was it Sana?" you finally ventured, keeping your voice low. "You know she just does that with everyone. It doesn't mean—"

The car jerked slightly as Mina pressed the accelerator a little too hard in response, her lips pressing into a thin line. You sucked in a sharp breath, gripping the seat.

Okay. Wrong move. You tried again, softer this time. "Baby..."

Mina's jaw tensed. A muscle feathered under her smooth skin. Still silent. You exhaled, sinking back into the seat. "I wasn't flirting. You know I'd never—"

"You don't decide what bothers me." Her voice was quiet, lethally calm, slicing through your excuses like a knife.

Your pulse spiked. There it was—the first real crack in her porcelain composure. And fuck if it didn't send a thrill straight down your spine.

Mina turned into the driveway of your shared apartment, the tires crunching over gravel. She killed the engine. Silence swallowed the car whole.

Then, slowly, she turned to face you. Her eyes were darker than you'd ever seen them. "Get inside," she murmured, her voice dripping with quiet authority. "Now."

The elevator ride up to your apartment was the longest thirty seconds of your life. Mina stood beside you, her arms crossed, the scent of her perfume—something expensive and floral—filling the small space. You could feel the heat of her gaze burning into the side of your face, but you didn’t dare look.

Instead, you muttered under your breath, eyes flickering upward as if heaven itself might intervene. “God, if you’re listening… save me from my goddess.”

Mina’s fingers twitched. The elevator dinged.

You shuffled out behind her, still whispering your desperate prayers. “Mina noona is gonna kill me… I swear I didn’t do anything wrong. Help. Please. I’m too young to die.”

Mina unlocked the door with deliberate slowness, her back still turned to you. But you could see the way her shoulders tensed—the way her grip on the doorknob tightened just a fraction.

She stepped inside. You hesitated in the doorway, gulping.

“Maybe… maybe I should sleep at a hotel tonight?” you tried, voice cracking.

Mina didn’t answer. She just turned, slowly, her eyes locking onto yours with terrifying precision.

Then, with a voice like velvet dipped in poison, she murmured:

“Close the door, Y/N.”

Oh. Fuck.

You stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind you. The door clicked shut behind you. And as Mina’s fingers curled into the front of your shirt, dragging you forward, you realized— Prayer wasn’t going to save you tonight.

Her hands shoved against your chest the second you crossed the threshold, sending you stumbling backward into the bedroom. The backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, and you barely had time to register the dangerous glint in Mina’s eyes before she turned on her heel and walked out. The door clicked shut with terrifying finality. "M-Mina—?"

No answer. Just the sound of her heels clicking down the hallway, fading into deliberate silence.

You sat there, pulse hammering, listening to the distant sounds of drawers opening, something metallic clinking, the rustle of fabric. Your imagination ran wild. "Oh god. Oh god. She’s getting the rope. She’s getting the cuffs. She’s definitely getting the—"

A soft thud from the other room cut off your mental spiral. Then—silence. Too much silence.

You swallowed dryly. "Noona…?"

Still nothing. The tension coiled tighter in your gut. And then— Click. The door swung open.

The air in the room thickened as Mina’s fingers trailed up the curve of her waist, unhooking the clasp of her blouse with deliberate slowness. The fabric parted, sliding down her shoulders before pooling at her feet. Your breath hitched—her skin glowed under the dim bedroom light, smooth and flawless, save for the faint blush creeping up her chest.

She didn’t speak. Just hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her skirt, letting it drop with a whisper of fabric.

Black lace clung to her hips, the delicate straps framing the sinful dip of her waist. Her breasts—small, perky, perfectly shaped—strained against the sheer cups of her lingerie, nipples pebbled beneath the satin. And her ass… god, her ass. That tight, pert curve TWICE stans lost sleep over, barely contained by the scrap of lace riding up her thighs.

Mina smirked, noticing where your eyes lingered. “Eyes up here, sweet thing.”

Your gaze snapped to hers, heat flooding your cheeks. She took a step forward, the sharp click of her heels against hardwood making your pulse stutter. “Did I say you could look?”

Your throat went dry. “N-no, Noona.”

She hummed, circling you like a predator. “Naughty boy. Getting distracted already.” Her fingers brushed over your shoulder, nails grazing just enough to tease. “Pants. Off. Now.”

You fumbled with your belt, fingers trembling under her watchful gaze. The zipper sounded obscenely loud in the quiet room, your cock already straining against your briefs.

Mina’s lips curved. “Mm. Eager, aren’t we?” She tilted her head, trailing a finger down your bare chest. “But we’re not rushing tonight.” Her voice dropped, velvet and steel. “Hands on your thighs. Don’t move them unless I say.”

You obeyed, palms flattening against your legs, fingertips digging into your own skin to keep from touching her.

Mina stepped back, sinking onto the edge of the bed with effortless grace. She crossed her legs—slow, torturous—letting the lace ride higher up her thigh.

“Now,” she purred, “show me how badly you want me.” Her eyes flicked down to where your cock leaked against your stomach. “And remember… good boys don’t cum without permission.”

Her own hand slipped between her legs, fingers tracing lazy circles over the damp lace. Mina’s smile sharpened. “Stroke.”

And like a puppet on her string, you obeyed. Your fingers wrapped around your aching cock with a shaky exhale, the first slow stroke drawing a bead of pre-cum that glistened at the tip. The air between you and Mina felt electric—charged with something far more dangerous than anger. Possession.

Mina watched, her dark eyes tracking every twitch of your hand, every uneven breath that escaped your lips. Her own fingers moved in slow, teasing circles over the lace between her thighs, the fabric already damp with her arousal.

"Slower," she murmured, her voice a velvet command. "You don't get to rush this, my sweet sugar."

You bit your lip, forcing your grip to loosen, your strokes to drag out agonizingly slow. The sensation was maddening—every nerve in your body screamed for more, but Mina's gaze pinned you in place, her dominance a tangible weight in the room.

She let out a soft sigh, her head tilting back slightly as her fingers pressed harder against herself. "Good boy," she cooed, the praise sending a jolt straight to your cock. "Just like that. Show me how well you listen."

Your cheeks burned. There was something unbearably intimate about this—being laid bare under her watchful eyes, your pleasure entirely at her mercy. It wasn't just the physical act; it was the way she owned you in this moment, her jealousy morphing into something far more intoxicating.

Mina's breath hitched as she hooked a finger under the lace, pulling it aside to reveal glistening pink. "See what you do to me?" she whispered, her voice dripping with sinful sweetness. "All because you couldn't behave."

You whimpered, your hips twitching involuntarily.

"Ah-ah." Her free hand lifted, a single finger wagging in warning. "Did I say you could move?"

You froze, your cock throbbing in your grip.

Mina smiled—a slow, dangerous thing—before dragging her fingertip up her slit, gathering wetness and bringing it to her lips. "Mmm…" Her tongue darted out, tasting herself with a hum. "You want to know how you taste on me, naughty one?"

The question punched the air from your lungs.

She didn't wait for an answer.

"Then be good," she breathed, spreading her legs wider, her fingers working in slow, obscene circles. "And maybe—just maybe—I'll let you find out."

Your strokes stuttered, your entire body trembling with restraint.

Mina's laugh was soft, triumphant.

"That's it… suffer for me."

Mina’s fingers slowed against her own slick folds, her gaze sharpening as she watched you struggle to maintain the languid pace she demanded. Your cock—thick, veined, flushed deep red with desperation—twitched in your grip, pre-cum beading at the tip only to be smeared messily down your length with each torturously slow stroke.

“Look at you,” she cooed, her voice saccharine sweet even as her thighs squeezed tighter around her own hand. “My pretty, fair-skinned boy. Even your cock behaves so prettily for me.” Her free hand lifted, gesturing idly. “Tighter. Just at the base—yes, like that.”

You whimpered, your fingers obediently tightening where she instructed, the pressure bordering on painful. Your hips jerked instinctively, but a single raised brow from Mina froze you in place. Her smile turned venomous.

“Oh? Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” Her fingers abruptly stilled against her own wetness, her voice dropping into something darker. “Like how you didn’t notice me after the shoot?”

Your breath hitched.

“You made them laugh,” she continued, her tone deceptively light as she resumed circling her clit, slower now. “You let Sana cling to you. Let Dahyun demand your praise. Let Chaeyoung call you oppa like she has any right—” Her nail dug sharply into her own thigh, her breath catching before she steadied it. “But me? You barely glanced my way.”

You swallowed hard, your strokes faltering. “Mina, I didn’t—”

“Did I say you could stop?” Her voice cracked like a whip, her other hand slamming down onto the bed beside her. “Keep. Going.”

You hurried to obey, your cock aching from the uneven rhythm. Mina leaned forward, her lace-clad breasts swaying with the movement, her eyes locked onto yours. “You don’t divide your attention, Y/N.” Her thumb pressed hard against her clit, her breath hitching. “You don’t share what’s mine.”

The possessiveness in her voice sent a brutal throb through your length.

“Faster now,” she commanded, her own hips rolling into her hand. “Show me how much you regret it. Show me you know who you belong to.”

Your hand sped up, the slick sounds of your strokes filling the room alongside Mina’s soft, controlled gasps.

She watched you with half-lidded eyes, her lips parting around a moan she refused to let out. “G-good boy,” she managed, her thighs trembling. “Just—just like that. Mine.”

Mina's chest rose and fell with slow, controlled breaths as the last tremors of her climax faded. Her fingers, glistening with her release, lifted from between her thighs—her dark eyes pinned you in place before you could so much as blink. "Come here," she murmured, her voice honey-thick with satisfaction.

You hesitated, your hand still working your cock at the uneven pace she'd demanded. Mina's lips curled. "Did I say you could stop stroking?"

Your grip tightened reflexively, your thighs tensing as you shuffled forward on your knees, your free hand bracing against the bed for balance. Mina watched your struggle with quiet amusement, her damp fingers hovering just inches from your lips.

"Open," she commanded. You obeyed, your mouth parting around a shaky exhale.

Her fingers pressed against your tongue without warning—taste exploding across your senses, sweet and musky and undeniably hers. Your groan was muffled around her skin, your cock twitching violently in your grip as she dragged her fingertips deeper, until your lips brushed her knuckles.

"Suck," she breathed, her other hand tangling in your hair without mercy. "Clean them like the good boy you should have been today."

You hollowed your cheeks, your tongue lapping greedily at her digits, the salt-sharp tang of her arousal flooding your mouth. Mina's breath hitched, her grip tightening in your hair as she watched you through heavy-lidded eyes.

"Look at you," she mused, her voice dripping with mocking praise. "So eager to please me now. Where was this energy earlier, hm?" Her fingers thrust deeper abruptly, cutting off your air for one breathtaking second before pulling back just enough to let you gasp. "Pathetic."

Your eyes watered, your strokes faltering as her fingers fucked shallowly into your mouth.

Mina's smile turned razor-sharp. "Did I say you could slow down?" Her free hand snapped out, wrapping around your wrist to guide your pace back to the punishing rhythm she'd demanded. "You don't get to stop. Not until I say."

Pre-cum dripped from your tip onto the sheets below, your thighs trembling with the effort of holding back—of obeying.

Mina leaned in, her lips brushing your ear as she murmured: "Remember this taste the next time you think of ignoring me."

Then her fingers plunged back into your mouth, her hips rolling against nothing as she watched you choke around her.

Your hand was slick with sweat and pre-cum, your strokes ragged and uneven—desperate to keep up with Mina’s impossible demands. Every muscle in your body trembled with restraint, your cock swollen and throbbing, veins straining beneath feverish skin.

Mina watched you unravel with a predator’s patience, her fingers still tangled in your hair, her own arousal glistening on her parted lips.

Then—smack!

Her palm cracked against the back of your hand, knocking it away from your cock so hard your skin stung. You gasped, hips jerking forward into empty air, your entire body tightening like a coiled spring.

"Ah-ah," Mina tutted, her voice saccharine-sweet even as her fingers wrapped around your length in a ruthless grip. "You don’t get to decide when to touch yourself."

Her thumb swiped over your leaking tip, spreading the sticky mess down your shaft before she began stroking—hard, fast, no pity in her touch. Your vision blurred.

"Look at me," she demanded, her grip tightening near the base, squeezing just shy of too much. You forced your eyes open, meeting hers through the haze of pleasure-pain.

Mina’s lips curled. "You want to cum, don’t you?" Her other hand cupped your balls, weighing them in her palm before giving a warning press. "Beg for it."

You swallowed, your voice ragged. "P-please—"

"Please what?" she purred, twisting her wrist on the upstroke, her nails grazing just beneath your swollen head. You choked. "Please let me cum, Noona—fuck!"

Mina slowed her strokes abruptly, her thumb circling your slit in slow, torturous presses. "Mm… I don’t know," she mused, tilting her head. "Do you really deserve it?"

Your hips bucked into her fist, a broken whimper tearing from your throat. She laughed—soft, cruel—and leaned in, her breath hot against your ear. "Fine."

Her hand snapped tight around your shaft, stroking brutally, her pace relentless.

"Cum."

You shattered. Rope after rope of thick, pearly release painted her fingers, your hips jerking erratically as she milked you through the aftershocks, her grip unyielding even as your legs gave out beneath you.

Mina pulled back just enough to examine her glistening hand, her tongue darting out to taste the mess you’d made. "Good boy," she murmured, her voice softening—just a fraction.

Then she smeared the remnants across your lips, pressing in with her thumb until you tasted yourself. "Next time," she whispered, "you won’t make me wait."

Mina’s fingers trailed down your sweat-slicked chest, her touch featherlight yet commanding as she nudged you backward onto the mattress. The silk sheets clung to your overheated skin, still trembling from the brutal release she’d wrung out of you.

Her lips brushed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Good boys don’t move,” she murmured, her voice laced with dark promise. “And you are going to be good for me now, aren’t you?”

You barely had time to nod before the cool glide of smooth fabric whispered against your eyelids—black silk, thick enough to plunge you into immediate darkness. Mina tied the blindfold snugly behind your head, her fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary before withdrawing.

Click.

A drawer slid open. The faint clink of glass, the rustle of something being uncapped. Then—silence. No warning.

Just the sudden, searing heat of slick fingers tracing down your chest—oil? Wax?—before something damp and freezing pressed against your nipple. “Hah—?!” Your back arched off the bed, the shock of cold stealing your breath.

Mina’s laugh was low, wicked. “That’s right,” she purred, dragging the ice cube in slow circles around your pebbled skin. “Every time you move, I add another.”

Your fists clenched in the sheets, your cock already twitching back to life despite the overstimulation. “Shh,” Mina soothed, her free hand trailing down your stomach—only to pinch your other nipple hard. “Be still. Let me play.”

The contrast was maddening. One nipple numb from cold, the other burning from her sharp nails, your hips straining not to buck as Mina’s teeth grazed your inner thigh.

“You’re doing so well,” she whispered, her breath hot against your straining cock before—another ice cube, this time dragged slowly up your length.

You choked on air. Mina’s tongue chased the melting trail, her lips scorching against the chilled skin. “Mmm… see how sweet you taste when you suffer for me?”

Then—without warning—her mouth closed around you, heat enveloping your throbbing cock as the last of the ice dripped onto the sheets.

The blindfold turned the world into a fever dream of sensation—Mina’s lips scorching where the ice had been, her teeth dragging just shy of too much, her nails digging crescent moons into your thighs. Every breath she took against your skin sent a tremble through you, every hum of approval vibrated straight down your cock.

Then—nothing. Her warmth vanished. You jerked instinctively.

SMACK!

Her palm came down hard on your inner thigh.

“Did I fucking say you could move?” Her voice was a whip-crack of dominance, no longer velvet—just raw, unfiltered command. The bed dipped as she straddled you, her lace-clad cunt pressing against your stomach, already dripping. “You think this is fun for me?” Her fingers twisted in your hair, wrenching your head back against the pillows. “Having to remind you who you belong to?”

Your breath came in shallow gasps. Mina leaned down, her lips brushing yours—so close, but not close enough to kiss. “Say it,” she snarled. “Say you’re mine.”

“Y-yours—”

“Louder.”

“I’m yours, Noona—fuck!”

Her hand wrapped around your throat, not tight enough to cut off air—just enough to own. “Damn right you are.” She ground down against your stomach, her wetness smearing across your skin. “And next time you even think about making me wait—her hips rolled, her clit dragging against you with a filthy grind, “—I won’t be this nice.”

The threat sent a shockwave straight to your cock, your hips bucking up on instinct. Mina’s laugh was dark. “Oh? You like that idea?” Her grip tightened. “You want me to ruin you for everyone else?”

You couldn’t even speak—just nodded desperately. She released your throat only to slap your cheek lightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Too bad.”

Her hand wrapped around your cock again, stroking with brutal efficiency. “You’ll take what I give you—” Squeeze at the base. “When I let you—” Twist of her wrist. “And you’ll thank me—” Her lips crashed onto yours, swallowing your groan as your back arched off the bed. “—for being so fucking patient with you.”

Mina’s fingers were relentless—stroking, squeezing, rewiring every nerve in your body until pleasure blurred into pain and back again. The blindfold made it worse, every touch amplified, every tease magnified. You couldn’t see her smirk, couldn’t anticipate the cruel twists of her wrist, the way she’d slow to featherlight touches just as you teetered on the edge. “Ngh—Mina, please—”

“Please what?” Her thumb swiped over your leaking tip, spreading the slickness down your shaft before her grip tightened near the base, cutting off your climax with ruthless precision. “You don’t get to beg yet.”

Your hips jerked, desperate for friction, but she pressed her free hand flat against your stomach, pinning you down. “Stay. Still.”

Her voice dripped with faux sweetness, but her touch was pure punishment. She dragged her nails up your inner thigh, just hard enough to sting, before wrapping her fingers around your cock again—tighter this time, her pace agonizingly slow.

“You’re so pretty like this,” she murmured, her breath hot against your ear. “All flushed and trembling. Fighting so hard to be good for me.” Her lips brushed your jaw. “But you’re not there yet, are you?”

You shook your head, your sweat-slicked skin sticking to the sheets beneath you.

Mina hummed, her thumb circling the swollen head of your cock, smearing pre-cum in slow, torturous circles. “I could keep you here forever,” she mused. “Right on the edge. Desperate. Mine.” Her fingers twisted on the upstroke. “Would you like that, sweet thing?”

You choked back a sob. She laughed—soft, melodic—and squeezed. “Too bad.” Her hand vanished entirely, leaving you aching, your cock twitching against empty air.

“Remember this,” she whispered, her nails trailing lightly up your chest as she shifted off the bed. “Next time you even think about ignoring me.”

The door creaked open again, pulling you from your trembling haze. Your cock twitched against your stomach, still painfully hard, still aching from her merciless edging. The silk blindfold clung to your damp skin, shutting out the world—until fingers hooked beneath the fabric, yanking it away in one sharp motion.

Light flooded your vision—blinding, disorienting. Mina loomed over you, her lips curled in a smirk, a bottle of lube dangling from her fingers.“Miss me?” she purred. You opened your mouth to answer, but she pressed a finger to your lips, silencing you.

“Ah-ah.” Her free hand grabbed your wrists, pulling them above your head before wrapping the blindfold around them in a tight knot. The silk dug into your skin, just shy of too much, anchoring you to the headboard. “No talking. Just taking.”

She uncapped the lube with a soft click, pouring a generous amount onto her fingers. The cool liquid dripped onto your chest, making you shiver as she dragged her slick fingers down your torso—slow, teasing, maddening.

“You’re going to watch,” she murmured, her other hand trailing down to her own soaked lace. “Watch what you could have had if you hadn’t made me wait.”

Her fingers slipped beneath the fabric, her breath hitching as she stroked herself in slow, deliberate circles. “See how wet you made me?” she gasped, lifting her fingers to your lips, glistening with her arousal. “Lick.”

You obeyed, your tongue lapping at her essence, the taste flooding your senses. Mina moaned, her hips rocking into her own touch. “Good boy,” she breathed. “Now watch as I fuck myself thinking of you—but not letting you have me.”

Her fingers moved faster, her thighs trembling, her eyes locked onto yours as she denied you everything—except the sight of her unraveling.

Mina’s fingers worked between her thighs with slow, deliberate strokes—her lace pushed aside, her glistening pink folds on full display as she circled her clit in tight, teasing motions. Her breath hitched, her hips rolling into her own touch, but her eyes never left yours.

“Look at you,” she cooed, her voice dripping with saccharine praise even as her fingers plunged deeper, fucking into herself with obscene wet sounds. “So good for me. So obedient.”

Your cock throbbed against your stomach, pre-cum beading at the tip, but you didn’t dare move. Not with your wrists bound above your head, not with Mina’s dark gaze pinning you in place.

She smirked, dragging her free hand up your chest, her nails scraping lightly over your nipples. “You want to touch me, don’t you?”

You swallowed hard, your voice rough with desperation. “Y-yes, Noona—”

“Too bad.” Her fingers curled inside herself, her back arching as she moaned. “You had your chance earlier. Now you just get to watch.”

Her pace quickened, her thighs trembling, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. “F-fuck,” she whimpered, her walls fluttering around her fingers. “You see what you do to me? How wet I get just from owning you?”

You groaned, your hips twitching helplessly. “Mina, please—”

“Please what?” she taunted, slowing her movements to a torturous crawl. “Please let you fuck me? Please let you claim what’s already yours?” She leaned down, her lips brushing yours in a ghost of a kiss. “You should’ve taken me the second we got home.”

Her words sent a jolt straight to your cock, your restraint fraying. Mina pulled back, her fingers still working between her thighs, her voice a whisper. “But you didn’t.”

She pressed her slick fingers to your lips, forcing you to taste her. “So now you suffer.”

Mina’s legs trembled as she slowed the sinful drag of her fingers, her arousal glistening in the dim light. She exhaled sharply, her dark eyes studying you with a mix of dominance and something dangerously close to mercy.

“Tell me,” she murmured, her thumb brushing your lower lip, still wet from her taste. “What would you do for me right now?”

Your voice cracked. “Anything.”

A slow, wicked smile curled her lips. “Good answer.”

With deliberate precision, she reached behind your head, her fingers tugging at the silk binding your wrists. The fabric loosened, slipped free—your arms fell stiffly to your sides, blood rushing back into your fingertips. But before you could even think of moving, Mina’s palm flattened against your chest, pushing you back down.

“Ah-ah.” Her fingernails dug warningly into your skin. “You don’t move until I say.”

You nodded feverishly.

Mina shifted forward, her knees framing your shoulders as she hovered above your face. The scent of her—musky, sweet, undeniably hers—flooded your senses. Her fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head up just enough to meet her heated gaze.

“Open.”

You obeyed instantly, your tongue darting out in anticipation.

Mina’s breath hitched. “Not yet.” Her grip tightened. “You don’t lick until I tell you to. You don’t suck unless I demand it.” Her free hand trailed down her stomach, fingers spreading her glistening folds right above your mouth. “You breathe me in. You take what I give you.”

A whimper escaped you—whether from desperation or worship, you weren’t sure. Mina’s smirk deepened. “Now.”

You dove in. The first lick was tentative—testing, reverent—but Mina’s hips jerked forward impatiently. “Harder.”You groaned against her, your tongue dragging up her slit in one firm stroke before circling her swollen clit.

“Y-yes—like that,” she gasped, her thighs squeezing around your head as you laved at her with slow, deliberate pressure. “But slower—make me feel it—”

You obeyed, dragging your tongue in torturous, wet strokes, reveling in the way her grip on your hair turned punishing.

Mina’s back arched, a broken moan tumbling from her lips. “F-fuck—right there—!” Your fingers dug into her thighs, holding her steady as you worshipped her the only way she’d allow.

The dichotomy was intoxicating—Mina’s stage persona, all elegant restraint and poised artistry, now reduced to trembling thighs and wrecked gasps above your tongue. Her public image was one of whispered elegance, the untouchable swan of TWICE… but this Mina? This Mina was fire and filth.

“Deeper,” she demanded, her fingers tightening in your hair as she ground down against your mouth. You groaned against her, your tongue plunging past her folds, fucking into her with slow, deliberate strokes. The taste of her—salt and sin—flooded your senses, her slick coating your lips, your chin.

Mina’s breath hitched, her hips rolling in time with your movements. “Y-yes—just like that—” Her voice wavered, the polished cadence of her idol tone cracking into something raw, hungry. “God, your tongue—fuck—”

The contrast made your cock throb against the sheets.

Her public smiles were measured, delicate. Now? Her lips parted around panting moans, her head thrown back as she rode your face with shameless need. “Slower,” she gasped, her thighs shaking. “Make it last—ngh—!”

You obeyed, dragging your tongue in torturous circles around her clit, savoring every twitch, every stifled cry. Her back arched, her nails scraping against your scalp as she teetered on the edge— Then yanked your head back with a snarl.

“I didn’t say you could make me cum,” she panted, her chest heaving, her eyes burning with possessive fury. “You already made me wait tonight. Now it’s your turn.”

Her thumb swiped over your slick-stained lips, smearing her essence across your mouth before pressing in—hard.

“Lick.”

You sucked her taste from her skin, your groan vibrating against her fingertips. Mina shuddered, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Good boy… now beg for the rest.”

Mina hovered above you, her thighs still framing your face, her arousal glistening under the dim glow of the bedside lamp. The air between you crackled—half-tension, half-desire—as she studied you with those dark, unreadable eyes. The same eyes that could command stadiums of fans with a single glance now pinned you in place, your pulse hammering under her scrutiny.

You parted your lips to speak, but she pressed a finger to them, silencing you before the words could form. "Ah-ah." Her voice was velvet wrapped around steel. "You don’t get to just ask. You beg." A shiver ran down your spine.

The Mina the world saw was all grace—gentle smiles, elegant gestures, the quiet charisma of TWICE's unshakable ice princess. But this Mina? The one who had you tied up moments ago, the one whose fingers had been knotted in your hair as she rode your tongue? This Mina owned you.

You swallowed hard, your voice dipping into something hushed, reverent. "Noona... please."

Her eyebrow arched. "Please what?"

Your gaze flickered downward—just for a second—but she caught it. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Oh?" She tilted her head, her thumb brushing your lower lip. "You want more than I’m giving you?"

You nodded, your cheeks burning. Mina exhaled sharply through her nose, her fingers trailing down her own body, skimming over the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips. "Then ask properly," she murmured. "Or I walk away right now."

The threat sent a jolt through you. "W-wait—!" You reached for her, but she caught your wrist effortlessly, her grip tightening in warning."I—I want..." You hesitated, your throat dry.

Mina's eyes narrowed, impatient. You took a shaky breath. "I want to taste all of you." Her fingers stilled against your wrist.

"Everywhere," you continued, bolder now, your voice rough with want. "Not just your pussy. You." Your gaze flickered lower again, lingering on the curve of her ass—the same one that drove ONCEs wild on stage, the same one that had you biting your lip every time she turned away in those skin-tight stage outfits. "Let me worship you there, too."

Mina’s lips parted slightly.

"I promise," you added quickly, your fingers curling into the sheets, "I won’t even look at anyone else the way I look at you. Not Dahyun, not Sana—no one."

The room fell silent.

Mina studied you for a long moment before exhaling slowly. "Tch." She released your wrist, her nails dragging lightly over your palm as she pulled away. "You’re lucky I’m feeling generous tonight."

Then, with deliberate slowness, she turned—presenting the sinful curve of her back, the smooth expanse of her waist, the perfect swell of her—

Your breath caught. Mina glanced over her shoulder, her voice dropping into a whisper. "Well? Go on. Prove it."

Your hands trembled as they settled on the sinful curve of Mina’s ass—soft yet firm, the kind of perfection that made ONCEs lose their minds in fancams. But they only got to look.

You got to touch.

A reverent groan escaped you as your fingers kneaded into her flesh, savoring the way it yielded under your grip. Mina exhaled sharply, her back arching slightly, but she didn’t pull away.

“Mmm… that’s it,” she murmured, her voice dripping with approval. “Like you’re handling something precious.”

You swallowed hard, your thumbs brushing the crease where her cheeks met her thighs, teasing but not quite venturing further. Not yet.

Mina glanced over her shoulder, her dark eyes glinting with amusement. “Scared?”

“N-no,” you lied, your pulse hammering.

She smirked. “Liar.” Leaning forward slightly, she presented herself more fully, the roundness of her ass practically begging for your mouth. “Prove it.”

Your breath hitched. Then—you dove in. Your lips pressed against the swell of her right cheek first, kissing slow, open-mouthed trails down to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Mina’s breath stuttered, her fingers tightening in the sheets as you nipped lightly, leaving faint marks in your wake. “F-fuck—”

You grinned against her skin before dragging your tongue up the other side, worshipping every inch with deliberate slowness. The salt-sweet taste of her arousal still lingered, mixing with the faint musk of her skin, and you savored it—like she was your last meal.

Mina shuddered. “Y/N—”

You hummed in response, your hands spreading her cheeks apart, exposing her most forbidden hole. She tensed. You paused, your breath hot against her. “Noona…?”

A beat of silence. Then—“Do it.”

Your tongue swiped up in one firm stroke, laving over her tight rim before circling it slowly. Mina jolted, a broken gasp tearing from her lips. “Hah—!”

You did it again, this time pressing in, just enough to make her thighs tremble. “S-shit—” Her fingers twisted in your hair, yanking you closer. “More.”

You obeyed, your tongue fucking into her with slow, filthy strokes, your hands gripping her hips to keep her in place. Mina’s moans were unfiltered, her usual composure shattered as she ground back against your mouth. “Y-yes—right there—!”

You worshipped her like religion—because to you, she was. And when her legs finally gave out, her body collapsing onto the bed with a shuddering gasp, you followed—your lips still pressed to her skin, your devotion unshaken.

Mina turned onto her back, her chest heaving, her eyes dark with something between lust and awe. “You—” She swallowed hard. “You’re dangerous.”

You grinned, licking your lips. “Only for you, Noona.”

Mina's body was a temple—immaculate, revered, flawless. Every inch of her skin carried the faint scent of lavender and something uniquely her, a testament to her meticulous hygiene. And now, as she lay trembling beneath your worship, you were determined to defile her in the most reverent way possible.

Your fingers traced the curve of her ass, spreading her cheeks wider, exposing her tight, pink hole to the cool air of the room. Mina shuddered, her breath hitching as your thumb brushed over the sensitive rim, just teasing.

"Y/N—" Her voice was a warning, but the way her hips pressed back betrayed her desperation.

You smirked against her skin before leaning in, your tongue dragging a slow, wet stripe from her perineum all the way up to the base of her spine. Mina gasped, her fingers twisting in the sheets. "F-fuck—!"

You did it again, this time circling her rim with the very tip of your tongue, savoring the way her muscles fluttered under your touch. The taste was clean, faintly sweet—perfect.

Reaching for the bottle of sweet lube on the nightstand, you poured a generous amount onto your fingers, warming it between your palms before slicking it over her asshole. Mina whimpered at the sensation, the coolness of the lube contrasting with the heat of your breath.

"Relax," you murmured, pressing a kiss to the small of her back. "Let me take care of you."

Your tongue pressed flat against her hole, laving over it in broad, wet strokes before focusing on the tight ring of muscle. Mina's back arched off the bed, a broken moan tearing from her lips as you pushed inside, just enough to make her gasp.

"Oh god—!"

You groaned against her, the vibrations sending another shudder through her body. Your hands gripped her hips, holding her in place as you ate her out like a man starved—flicking, sucking, devouring every inch of her.

The sweet lube mixed with her natural flavor, creating an intoxicating blend that had your cock throbbing against the mattress. But you ignored it, focusing solely on her, on the way her thighs trembled, on the way her breath came in ragged gasps.

Mina's fingers twisted in your hair, yanking you closer. "D-deeper—please—!"

You obeyed, your tongue fucking into her with slow, deliberate strokes, your nose pressed against her ass cheek. The lewd squelch of the lube, the sharp slap of skin against skin as she ground back onto your face—it was filthy.

And it was heaven.

Mina's moans grew louder, more desperate, her body writhing under your touch. "Y/N—I can't—!"

You pulled back just enough to whisper against her skin, your voice rough with want.

"Yes, you can."

Then you sealed your lips around her rim and sucked.

Mina’s fingers knotted in your hair like a vice, her breath ragged as she forced your face deeper between her cheeks with a sharp, commanding tug.

"Mmmph—!?" Your moan vibrated against her rim, muffled by the sinful press of her ass against your lips, your nose buried in the crease of her thigh.

"That’s it," she panted, her voice dripping with dominance, her hips rolling back to grind against your tongue. "Take it. Take all of me."

The sweet lube made her skin slick under your palms as you gripped her waist, your fingers digging into the soft give of her flesh. Every desperate noise she made—every choked gasp, every shuddering whimper—only drove you deeper, your tongue spearing into her tight hole with relentless strokes.

Mina’s thighs trembled around your head, her back arching as she used your mouth, her control slipping back into place like a crown.

"You love this, don’t you?" she taunted, her voice a sultry rasp. "Being my good little pet, eating my ass like it’s your last meal?"

You groaned in response, the sound swallowed by her skin as she ground down harder.

"Answer me," she demanded, yanking your head back just enough to let you gasp for air.

"Y-yes, Noona—fuck, yes—"

"Good boy," she purred, before shoving your face back into her with a brutal snap of her hips. "Now clean me up."

Your tongue swirled around her rim, lapping up every trace of lube, every drop of her, your nose pressed so deep into her ass you could barely breathe.

And Mina?

She reveled in it—her moans filthy, her grip unrelenting, her dominance absolute.

"Mmm… just like that," she sighed, her voice syrupy with satisfaction. "Worship me right."

You obeyed. Because what else could you do?

Mina’s thighs quivered around your head, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as your tongue worked her rim with precision—broad, flat strokes alternating with pointed flicks that made her toes curl into the sheets. The sweet lube had long since mixed with her own slickness, creating a sinful glaze over her skin that you lapped up greedily.

“F-fuck—right there—” Her fingers twisted in your hair, her hips canting back desperately, chasing the pleasure coiling tight in her gut. “Don’t you dare stop—”

You hummed against her, the vibrations wringing a broken moan from her lips.

You could feel it—the way her muscles fluttered around your tongue, the way her breath hitched with every drag of your lips. She was close.

Too close. And so—you pulled back.

Your tongue retreated with a final, teasing lick, your lips leaving her rim with an obscene pop. Mina froze. Silence. Then— “Y/N.”

Her voice was dangerous. You pressed a kiss to the small of her back, your hands smoothing over the curve of her ass in mock apology. “Yes, Noona?”

She turned—slowly—her eyes blazing with fury and need. “You little shit,” she hissed, her chest heaving.

You grinned up at her, your chin glistening with her taste. “You did say I had to worship you right.” You leaned in, nipping at her inner thigh. “I’m just… taking my time.”

Mina’s nails dug into your shoulders, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Finish what you started.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Or what?”

Her smile was lethal. “Or I’ll edge you for hours.”

… Well. Shit.

You ducked back between her thighs with a whimper. Mina’s laugh was triumphant.

The threat of Mina’s revenge coiled like a live wire in the air—hours of her merciless hands denying you release, her taunting voice reducing you to a whimpering mess. The memory alone sent a jolt of fear (or was it anticipation?) straight to your aching cock.

No. You knew better than to test her.

With a ragged exhale, you dove back between her thighs, your tongue laving over her neglected rim in one long, apologetic stroke. Mina’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening in your hair—warningly—but you didn’t hesitate this time.

You ate like a man starving.

Your lips sealed around her tight hole, sucking gently before fucking into her with firm, rhythmic strokes of your tongue. Mina’s hips jerked, a broken moan tumbling from her lips as you redoubled your efforts— "Ngh—fuck—!"

Her thighs trembled around your head, her heels digging into your back as you ruined her. The sweet lube mixed with the salt of her skin, the musky essence of her arousal, creating a flavor so hers you could’ve gotten drunk on it.

"Y-Y/N—I’m—" Her voice cracked, her body bowing off the bed as pleasure snapped tight in her core.

You doubled down—sucking, licking, devouring—until her grip on your hair turned punishing, until her moans dissolved into mindless whimpers, until—

"Cumming—!"

Mina’s back arched violently, her thighs clamping around your head as her orgasm ripped through her—silent at first, then shattering into a gasped cry you felt vibrate through her entire body. You rode it out, gentling your tongue to soft, coaxing strokes until she slumped bonelessly into the mattress, her chest heaving.

Silence. Then— A slow, dangerous chuckle. "Good boy," Mina purred, her fingers trailing lazily through your hair. "Now… let’s talk about your punishment for teasing me."

You scrambled back onto your knees, hands clasped in exaggerated supplication, eyes wide with theatrical remorse.

"Noona, please—I swear I’ll never edge you again! I’ll worship you like the goddess you are! I’ll—"

Mina’s fingertip pressed against your lips, silencing you mid-plea. Her other hand trailed down your chest, nails scraping lightly over your abs before wrapping around your throbbing cock in a grip that made your breath stutter.

"Cute," she murmured, her thumb swiping over your leaking tip, smearing pre-cum down your shaft. "But lies don’t suit you."

Her lips—those lips, the ones that drove ONCEs wild with every pout, every smirk—parted around a slow, taunting exhale, her breath ghosting over your wet skin. "M-Mina—"

"Ah-ah." Her tongue darted out, flicking the underside of your cockhead with infuriating lightness. "You don’t get to beg now."

Every nerve in your body screamed as she dragged her mouth lower, her lips brushing your balls before pulling away with a tch.

"So desperate," she mused, her fingers tightening just shy of painful. "All this mess… just for me?" You nodded frantically. Mina’s smirk was sin itself.

Her lips sealed around your tip, her tongue swirling in slow, torturous circles as she sucked just the barest inch of you into her mouth.

"Hhhngh—!" Your hips jerked instinctively, but her free hand slammed down on your thigh, pinning you in place.

"Mmhn~?" Her hum vibrated straight down your spine, her eyes fluttering shut as she savored the taste of you—taunting, toying, giving you nothing but the barest hint of heat.

And when you whimpered? She pulled off with a filthy pop, her lips glistening. "Oops."

Mina’s lips were maddening—soft, slick, and just tight enough to make your cock twitch in her grip, but never enough to give you what you craved. Every time you teetered on the edge, her mouth would retreat with a cruel pop, her tongue flicking over your slit just to watch you squirm.

"N-Noona—" Your voice cracked, your fingers twisting in the sheets. "Please—fuck—"

"Please what?" She dragged her tongue up your shaft, her breath hot against your throbbing skin. "You want me to finish you?" Her teeth grazed your tip, just shy of pain. "After how you teased me?"

You groaned, your hips bucking involuntarily—but Mina’s hand pressed down on your stomach, holding you in place. "Uh-uh." Her smirk was wicked. "You stay."

She took you deep, her lips sealing around your cock in one smooth glide, her tongue pressing just right against the underside. Your back arched off the bed, a strangled cry tearing from your throat as her head bobbed slowly, methodically, her fingers tightening around your base to deny you. "M-Mina—I can’t—"

She hummed, the vibrations shooting straight to your core, her pace agonizingly measured. You snapped.

One hand fisted in her hair, yanking her down until your cock hit the back of her throat—

GLRK~!

Mina’s eyes watered, her nose pressed flush against your stomach, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, her fingers dug into your thighs, her throat fluttering around you as you fucked into her mouth with ragged, desperate thrusts.

"F-fuck—sorry—" You panted, your grip loosening slightly—But Mina’s nails dug in, her gaze locking onto yours.

Don’t you dare stop.

So you didn’t. The wet schlck~ schlck~ of her lips, the choked gulp~ as she swallowed around you, the slap of skin against skin—it was filthy.

And it was heaven.

Mina’s moans vibrated through you, her lashes fluttering as she took every inch, her own pleasure written plainly in the way her thighs squeezed together.

You were so close—Then—She pulled off, her lips swollen, her chin glistening. "Not yet," she whispered, her thumb swiping over your leaking tip. "We’re not done."

The switch flipped in an instant—desperation overriding restraint, hunger eclipsing worship. Your fingers tangled deeper into Mina’s silken hair, guiding her back onto your cock with a guttural groan. “Take it,” you rasped, your hips rolling up to meet her lips. “All of it.”

Mina’s eyes flared—surprise, then challenge—before her lashes fluttered shut, her throat relaxing in surrender.

GLRK~!

The sound was filthy, her nose pressed flush against your pelvis as you bottomed out inside her mouth. Her lips stretched obscenely around your girth, spit pooling at the corners as you held her there, savoring the way her throat fluttered against your tip.

“F-fuck—” Your grip tightened, your thighs trembling as you dragged her back, then shoved in again—harder.

GULP~! SCHLORP~!

Mina’s fingers clawed at your thighs, her nails leaving half-moon indents, but she didn’t fight—just let you use her, her tongue lapping at your underside with every retreat.

“Look at you,” you panted, your voice rough with awe. “TWICE’s perfect princess—choking on my cock.” Her moan vibrated through you, her eyelids fluttering as drool dripped down her chin.

You fucked into her mouth with shallow, brutal thrusts, the wet slap of skin echoing in the room. Her throat clenched around you, her gag reflex overridden by sheer obedience, her tears smearing her mascara into dark streaks.

“Mina—” Your hips stuttered, your release coiling tight. “I’m gonna—fuck—”

She dug her nails in—hard. The slap of flesh, the gagged moans, the drip of spit onto her chest—it was too much.

You came with a snarl, your cock pulsing down her throat as she swallowed every drop, her lips sealed tight around you until you whimpered from oversensitivity.

Finally, she pulled off with a pop, her breath ragged, her lips ruined. “Good boy,” she croaked, her voice wrecked. And just like that—she was back in control.

The second you released her hair, Mina pounced—her knee slamming between your thighs, her palm flattening against your chest to pin you to the mattress. Her lips were swollen, her smudged mascara giving her a feral edge, but her eyes...

Her eyes burned with pure, unadulterated hunger. "You dared," she hissed, her nails scraping down your sternum. "You fucked my face like some animal."

Your breath hitched—part fear, part arousal—as she leaned in, her teeth grazing your jaw. "And now?" Her hand slipped between your legs, her fingers squeezing the base of your still-hard cock. "You’re going to repent."

Before you could utter a word, she spun, straddling your waist in one fluid motion—her back pressed to your chest, her ass grinding against your stomach. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of her lace panties, yanking them down just enough to expose her drenched folds.

"You’ll take me like this," she commanded, her voice trembling with need. "No hands. No control. Just your cock buried inside me while I ride you like the brat you are."

Her hips lifted slightly, her free hand guiding your tip to her soaking entrance. "And Y/N?" She glanced over her shoulder, her smile dangerous. "You don’t get to come until I say so."

Then she sank down—

SCHLICK~

—taking every inch in one brutal slide, her walls clenching around you like a vise.

"F-FUCK—!" Your head slammed back into the pillows, your hips jerking up instinctively—

SMACK~!

Her palm cracked against your thigh. "Did I say you could move?"

You whined, your nails digging into the sheets. Mina laughed—a breathless, delighted sound—before rolling her hips in slow, agonizing circles, her inner walls milking you with every drag.

"Mmm... better," she purred, her ass pressing flush against your stomach. "Now watch—" Her fingers trailed down her own body, pinching her nipple through the lace of her bralette. "—as I ruin us both."

Mina’s back arched like a bowstring as she rolled her hips, her tight, dripping cunt stretching obscenely around your girth. The angle was brutal—her walls hugged every ridge, every vein, her inner muscles fluttering as she adjusted to the sheer size of you.

“Hah—!” Her breath hitched, her fingers digging into your thighs for balance as she lifted herself up—only to drop back down with a wet schlrrp~!

Your cock throbbed, your vision whiting out for a second at the sensation of her clenching around you. “F-fuck—Mina—”

“Quiet,” she panted, her voice trembling with exertion. “You don’t get to talk while I’m riding you.”

Her hips began to move in slow, grinding circles, the swollen head of your cock dragging against her sweet spot with every rotation.

Squelch~ Sqwelsh~

The lewd squelch of her arousal filled the room, her thighs trembling as she worked herself open on your length. Her lace bralette clung to her sweat-slicked skin, the fabric stretched taut over her bouncing tits as she chased her own pleasure.

You ached to touch her—to grip her waist, to help her move—but her earlier command burned in your mind.

Mina’s breath came in sharp, broken gasps as she bounced faster, her ass slapping against your thighs with every descent.

CLAP!—CLAP!—CLAP!

“Y-you feel that?” she moaned, her fingers twisting in the sheets. “How tight I am around you? How badly I’m milking your cock?”

You nodded frantically, your teeth sinking into your lower lip to stifle a groan.

Mina laughed—a breathless, wicked sound—before slamming down harder, her walls rippling around you in a way that made your toes curl.

“Good,” she purred. “Now remember it—because this is all you’re getting tonight.”

And with that, she leaned forward, her pace turning ruthless—her cunt squeezing you like a vice, her moans music to your ears.

You were so close—But her rule stood.

Mina’s thighs quaked as she rode you with desperate, uneven strokes—her earlier dominance fraying at the edges as her orgasm crested, her body burning with the need to break.

“Y-Y/N—!” Her voice was a wreck, her nails scoring your skin as she ground down, her swollen clit rubbing against your pelvis with every roll of her hips.

You ached to thrust up, to chase your own release—but you held still, your muscles trembling with restraint. “Please—” The word tore from her lips, raw and unfiltered, as her walls clenched around you in erratic pulses. “I—I can’t—!”

That was all the permission you needed.

Your hands—finally free—dug into her waist, yanking her down as you snapped your hips up, burying yourself to the hilt.

SCHLAP!—GLORP~!

Mina screamed, her back arching as her orgasm shattered through her—her cunt flooding around your cock, her thighs clamping around your sides as she shook apart.

“F-fuck—Mina—!” Your voice was strangled, your release coiling tight—

“Inside,” she gasped, her fingers fisting in your hair. “Fill me—now—!”

You obeyed. You pumped into her one last time—your cock pulsing as you emptied yourself deep into her clenching heat, ropes of cum spilling into her with every throb.

SPURT~ SPURT~

Mina whimpered, her body twitching as she milked you dry, her walls fluttering around your oversensitive length.

For a moment, there was only silence—the sound of ragged breathing, the drip of sweat onto the sheets, the stickiness between your bodies.

Then— Mina collapsed against your chest, her lips brushing your collarbone in a tired kiss. “...Good boy,” she murmured, her voice hoarse but satisfied

Mina’s fingers traced idle patterns on your sweat-slicked chest, her nails occasionally digging in just enough to remind you—she wasn’t done with you yet.

The room was thick with the scent of sex, the air still humming from the intensity of her climax, but her dark eyes held a chilling edge as they locked onto yours.

“So,” she began, her voice deceptively soft, “tell me again why you spent thirty minutes helping Sana with her dance steps yesterday?”

Your breath hitched. Oh. Oh fuck.

You’d thought she hadn’t noticed—or at least, hadn’t cared. But the way her thigh tensed against yours, the way her fingers twitched near your throat—

You’d fucked up.

“I—it was just practice,” you stammered, your pulse racing under her touch. “She asked for feedback, and I—”

“Feedback?” Mina’s laugh was icy, her knee pressing deliberately between your thighs. “Is that what we’re calling the way you stared at her ass in those shorts?”

Your mouth went dry. “N-no, Noona, I swear I wasn’t—”

“Liar.” Her hand slid down your stomach, her fingers wrapping around your half-hard cock with terrifying ease. “You think I didn’t see you? My sweet, obedient pet, drooling over another woman?”

Her grip tightened, her thumb swiping over your tip just hard enough to make you jolt. “M-Mina—”

“Quiet.” She leaned in, her lips brushing your ear. “You’re going to prove to me who you belong to. Every night. Until I believe you.”

Her teeth grazed your lobe—punishment and promise in one. “Starting now.”

The bottle of lube thumped against your chest, still cool from the air conditioning. Mina didn’t say a word—just arched a single, imperious brow before turning onto her hands and knees, presenting herself to you with a slow, deliberate sway of her hips.

You knew that ass. Worshipped that ass. The same one that had ONCEs screaming in fan calls, the same one that looked sinful in every stage outfit—tight, round, perfect. And now? Now it was yours, her cheeks spread just enough to reveal that tight, pink pucker, already glistening from the remnants of your earlier… attention.

Your cock twitched, still sensitive from your last orgasm, but you didn’t dare hesitate.

“N-Noona,” you stammered, fumbling with the cap of the lube. “You’re sure—?”

A smack echoed through the room—her palm cracking against her own ass cheek, leaving a faint red handprint in its wake. “Did I stutter?”

Message received.

You poured a generous amount onto your fingers, warming it between them before pressing gently against her hole. Mina hissed, her back arching, but she didn’t pull away—just pushed back, forcing your fingertip inside with a lewd pop~.

Tch—!

Her muscles clenched around you, burning hot and tight, and you had to bite back a groan.

“Fuck,” you breathed, working your finger in slow circles, feeling her flutter around you. “Noona, you’re—hnngh—so tight—”

“More,” she demanded, her voice strained. “Don’t coddle me.”

You obeyed, adding a second finger, scissoring her open with careful strokes. The squelch of lube, the way her body fought then yielded—it was maddening.

Mina’s breath came in sharp gasps, her fingers twisting in the sheets as you curled your fingers, searching—“Ah!” Her hips jerked, a shudder running through her. “T-there—!”

You grinned, hitting that spot again, ruthlessly, until her thighs trembled and her moans turned broken. “N-Noona,” you panted, crooking your fingers one last time before pulling them free with a wet sound. “You ready?”

Mina glanced over her shoulder, her eyes dark, her lips swollen from biting them. “Hurry up,” she ordered. “Before I change my mind.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Lining yourself up, you pressed into her with a groan, her ass stretching around your cock in agonizing increments.

POP~ SCHLURK~

Mina choked, her nails scoring the sheets as you bottomed out, her walls clenching like a vice.

“F-fuck—!” you gasped, your vision whiting out for a second. “N-Noona, you’re—hnngh—killing me—”

“Good,” she panted, her voice shaking. “Now move.”

The moment your hips drew back, the schlorp~ of her overstretched rim clinging to your cock was obscenely loud—a wet, sticky protest as her body fought to keep you buried inside. Mina’s breath hitched, her fingers twisting into the sheets until her knuckles bleached white.

“Ngh—!”

You paused, your own thighs trembling from the effort of restraint. “Noona��?”

Her answer was a sharp snap of her hips backward, forcing you even deeper with a brutal glrk~ as her inner walls convulsed around your girth.

“Did I say stop?”

The challenge in her voice sent a jolt down your spine.

You obeyed.

Your next thrust was punishing, your pelvis meeting her ass with a smack~ that echoed off the walls. Mina’s back arched, her elbows buckling as her forehead pressed into the mattress, but she didn’t retreat—just took it, her body yielding to yours in a way that bordered on sacrilege.

PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!

The rhythm was filthy, each snap of your hips punctuated by the squelch~ of lube and the ragged hitch of her breath. Her hole, once impossibly tight, now gaped around you with every withdrawal, her rim flushed a deep pink from the abuse.

“Look,” you growled, your fingers digging into the supple flesh of her ass, spreading her wider. “Look how open you are for me.”

Mina whined, the sound muffled by the sheets, but she didn’t protest—just pushed back harder, her body demanding more.

You gave it to her.

Your pace turned feral, your cock spearing into her with reckless abandon, the slap of skin drowning out her choked moans. Her insides were scorching, her muscles fluttering in erratic spasms as you ruined her, your tip brushing that spot with every thrust.

“F-fuck—!” Her voice was a wreck, her thighs quaking as she neared her edge. “Y/N—I’m—!”

You dug your thumbs into her cheeks, spreading her apart as you pulled out slowly, watching in awe as her gaped hole clung to your shaft, her rim pulsing around nothing before you slammed back in.

SCHLAP!—GLORP~!

Mina screamed, her body bowing as her orgasm ripped through her—her ass clenching viciously around you, her walls milking your cock in desperate pulses.

But you held back, your own release coiling tight but denied—just as she’d wanted.

“N-Noona,” you panted, your voice raw. “You—fuck—you okay?”

Mina’s response was a weak laugh, her body collapsing onto the mattress.

“Again,” she whispered.

Mina’s fingers clawed at the sheets, her breath coming in ragged gasps as you pounded into her with reckless abandon. Every snap of your hips sent her body lurching forward, only for her to push back against you with a desperate grind, her ass clenching around your cock like a vice.

“H-harder—” Her voice was a broken whimper, her thighs trembling as she arched her back, demanding more.

You obeyed.

Your hands dug into the soft flesh of her hips, your fingers bruising as you yanked her back onto your cock with a brutal thrust.

SMACK!—GLORP~!

Mina screamed, her nails scoring the mattress as her body jolted from the impact. Her rim, already stretched and flushed, gaped around your girth with every withdrawal, her hole pulsing as if begging for you to ruin her further.

“F-fuck—Noona—” Your voice was hoarse, your own thighs burning from the effort of keeping up with her relentless pace. “You’re—hnngh—killing me—”

“Good,” she hissed, her head turning just enough to glare at you over her shoulder. “You deserve it.”

Then—

Her hand shot back, her fingers digging into your thigh as she forced you to slow.

“But I decide how you take me,” she breathed, her voice dripping with dominance. “Understood?”

You nodded frantically, your cock throbbing inside her as she rolled her hips in slow, agonizing circles, her walls milking you with precision.

Squelch~ Sqwelsh~

The lewd sound of her dripping arousal mixed with the slick slide of your cock stretching her wide filled the room, her moans turning filthy as she tortured you both.

“M-Mina—”

“No,” she snapped, her fingers tightening around your thigh. “You don’t get to beg.”

Then—

She dropped forward onto her elbows, her ass rising higher, her gaped hole clenching around you as she glanced back with dark eyes.

“Fuck me like you mean it.”

And God help you—

You did.

Your hands gripped her waist, your hips snapping forward with brutal force, your cock spearing into her with punishing strokes.

THWAP! THWAP! THWAP!

Mina’s screams were music, her body quaking as you ruined her, her gaped hole fluttering around your length with every thrust.

Mina’s body was a masterpiece of ruin—her ass jiggling with every brutal smack of your hips, her rim stretched obscenely around your cock, glistening with lube and the faint sheen of sweat. The clench of her muscles was vicious, her inner walls rippling in sinful waves as she controlled the pace with nothing but the roll of her hips and the squeeze of her thighs.

"Slower," she hissed, her voice a whip-crack of command, her fingers digging into the sheets as she arched her back, forcing you to still.

You groaned, your cock twitching inside her as she tensed around you, her hole fluttering like a heartbeat.

"N-Noona—"

"Look," she breathed, her hand sliding back to spread herself wider, her thumb pressing against her own stretched rim. "Look what you do to me."

Fuck.

Her asshole was puffy, reddened from the relentless pounding, the tight ring of muscle gaping slightly as you pulled back, her insides glistening with lube and the faint drip of her own arousal. The sight alone was maddening—her ruin, her surrender, all under her command.

"You like this?" she taunted, her voice thick with power, her hips grinding in a slow, cruel circle. "Being used like this? Filling me up until I decide you can cum?"

Your whimper was answer enough.

Mina laughed—a dark, delighted sound—before slamming herself back onto you with a drawn moan.

SCHLAP!—GLORP~!

The wet squelch of her stretched hole taking every inch of you was filthy, her body yielding and resisting in equal measure as she rode you with punishing precision.

"Mine," she growled, her nails scoring your thigh as she pushed you deeper, her grip on your cock unrelenting. "Every fucking thrust—mine."

And God—

You obeyed.

Your hands gripped her waist, your hips snapping up to meet her brutal pace, your cock spearing into her clenching heat with desperate strokes.

PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!

Mina’s moans were broken, her body quivering as she chased her own pleasure, her control slipping with every jolt of your cock against her walls.

Mina's breath came in sharp, fractured gasps—each ragged inhale hitching as your cock stretched her ass wider, deeper, carving a place inside her that no one else had ever touched. Her thighs trembled violently, sweat-slicked and trembling, as her body fought the pleasure, then surrendered to it with a choked whimper.

"Y-Y/N—!"

Her fingers clawed at the sheets, her spine arching as her orgasm loomed, an avalanche of sensation crashing through her with every brutal thrust.

"N-No—wait—!"

But you didn't stop.

Couldn't stop.

Your hands dug into her hips, forcing her back onto your cock with punishing precision, the slap of skin drowning out her broken pleas.

THWAP! THWAP! THWAP!

Mina's body locked—her ass clenching around you like a vise, her muscles fluttering in erratic spasms as her climax tore through her without mercy.

"F-FUCK—!"

Her scream was raw, unfiltered, her back arching off the bed as her body betrayed her—her thighs soaking the sheets beneath her, her cunt pulsing around nothing as she squirted in ragged, uncontrollable bursts.

SPLOOSH~! SPLATTER~!

The sound was filthy, her release gushing in sticky waves, her hole milking your cock with desperate greed even as she shook apart beneath you.

And still—

You fucked her through it.

Each jerk of your hips dragged another scream from her throat, her orgasm rippling endlessly as her body surrendered to the relentless invasion.

"S-stop—I c-can't—!" Her voice was a wreck, her thighs quivering as she collapsed forward, her face pressed into the mattress.

But her ass—God, her ass—

It held you like a claim, her rim fluttering around your shaft as if begging you to stay.

So you did.

Your pace slowed, but never stopped, your cock grinding into her with lethal precision until her moans dissolved into whimpers, her body limp beneath yours.

Only then—

Did you finally still.

Mina breathed—a shaky, shattered exhale—before her fingers twitched weakly against the sheets.

"...Bastard," she whispered, her voice hoarse but satisfied.

Mina's thighs were still trembling from her explosive climax when she suddenly rolled onto her back, her dark eyes glazed yet commanding. Her fingers—still slick with sweat and lube—wrapped around the base of your cock in a vice-like grip, yanking you from her ruined ass with a wet schlorp~ that made you whimper.

"You've been good," she murmured, her voice hoarse but dripping with authority. "So I'll let you finish... my way."

Before you could process her words, her other hand fisted in your hair, dragging you down until your throbbing cock hovered just above her parted lips. Her breath—hot and uneven—fanned over your sensitive tip, her tongue darting out to flick at the precum beading there.

"N-Noona—"

"Quiet," she ordered, her nails digging into your scalp. "You don't get to speak when I'm about to taste your filth."

Then—

She opened wider, her lips sealing around your cockhead in one smooth motion, her tongue lapping at the underside with lethal precision.

GLRK~

You jolted, your hips bucking instinctively, but her grip on your hair tightened, forcing you still as she took you deeper, her throat fluttering around your length.

"M-Mpfh~!" Her nose wrinkled slightly at the taste—musky, bitter, hers—but she didn't pull away. Instead, her free hand cupped your balls, squeezing just enough to make you gasp.

"Cum," she demanded, her voice vibrating around your cock. "Half in my mouth... half on my face."

Fuck.

You obeyed.

With a guttural groan, you pumped into her mouth, your release surging in thick, pulsing ropes as she swallowed the first few spurts with greedy gulps.

GULP~ GULP~

But then—

Just as commanded—

You pulled back, your cock slapping against her cheek as the remaining load splattered across her face in glorious streaks—her forehead, her nose, her swollen lips.

SPLAT~ SPLURT~

Mina's eyes fluttered shut, her tongue darting out to catch a stray drop as it dripped down her chin.

"Messy boy," she chided, her voice thick with your cum. "But... good."

Then—

With a wicked smirk—

She licked her lips clean.

You collapsed onto the mattress, your body wrecked, your soul hollowed out by Mina’s relentless dominance. Your arms splayed out like a sinner begging for absolution, your chest rising and falling in ragged, uneven gasps.

"Dear God," you whispered into the ceiling, your voice hoarse. "If you get me through tonight without Mina murdering me, I swear I’ll never even glance at another woman. Not Sana’s hips, not Tzuyu’s legs, not even Jeongyeon’s stupidly attractive tomboy swagger—nothing. Just… please."

A soft click of the tongue cut through your prayer.

"Talking to God instead of me?"

Mina’s voice was lighter now—sweet, almost playful—but the threat still lingered beneath. You turned your head just enough to see her standing at the foot of the bed, a damp towel in hand, her face now meticulously cleaned of your earlier… offering.

She looked angelic.

Which was terrifying.

"N-Noona, I was just—"

"Hush." She climbed onto the bed, her movements graceful as ever, before dropping the towel onto your chest with a pat. "Clean yourself up. You’re sticky."

You obeyed immediately, wiping away the remnants of sweat, lube, and other things with trembling hands. Mina watched you, her dark eyes unreadable, until finally—

She sighed, her shoulders slumping as she crawled forward and collapsed onto your chest, her cheek pressing against your rapidly beating heart.

"...Idiot."

The word was soft, fond, her fingers tracing idle circles on your stomach.

You blinked.

"N-Noona…?"

"You do know I don’t actually think you’d cheat on me, right?" She tilted her head up, her nose scrunching in that adorable way that made your chest ache. "I just like reminding you who you belong to."

Your breath hitched.

"O-Oh."

"But," she continued, her voice dropping to a dangerous purr, "if you ever stare at Sana’s ass like that again, I will lock you in this bedroom and ride you until you forget your own name."

A beat.

"...Can I get that in writing?"

Mina pinched your side—hard—before burying her face in your neck with a grumbling laugh.

"Go to sleep, you pervert."

You let out an exasperated sigh, fingers threading through Mina’s hair as she nuzzled against your chest. The scent of her shampoo—something floral and expensive—mixed with the musk of sweat and sex still clinging to both of you.

“Noona,” you started, voice tinged with playful indignation, “I literally just adjusted Tzuyu’s dress strap today because it was slipping. And I held Sana’s jacket for three seconds while she fixed her in-ear. That’s it.”

Mina’s fingers, which had been tracing lazy patterns on your stomach, dug in slightly—just enough to make you jolt.

“Exactly,” she murmured, her voice a low, honeyed threat. “Your hands should be busy—just not with them.”

You groaned, tilting your head back against the pillow. “I was working—”

“And now,” she interrupted, propping herself up on one elbow to glare down at you, “you’re mine.”

Her free hand trailed down your chest, her nails scraping lightly over your skin before her fingers wrapped around your half-hard cock with terrifying ease.

You jolted, your hips twitching instinctively.

“N-Noona—!”

“After shoots,” she continued, her grip tightening just so, “your first priority is me. Not Jihyo’s mic check. Not Dahyun’s missing shoe. Not even God if He showed up asking for a fitting.”

Her thumb swiped over your tip, smearing the bead of precum that had already gathered there.

“Understood?”

Your breath hitched, your body burning under her touch despite the exhaustion weighing your limbs down.

“Y-Yes, Noona,” you stammered, your voice raw.

Mina hummed, her lips curving into a satisfied smirk before she released you, patting your thigh like you were a well-trained pet.

“Good.”

Then—

She collapsed back onto your chest, her fingers lacing with yours as she snuggled closer.

“Now sleep,” she ordered, her voice soft but final. “You’ll need your energy for tomorrow.”

And God help you—

You shivered, pulling her closer as your eyes fluttered shut.

Worth it.

Your fingers stilled in Mina’s hair, curiosity prickling at the back of your sleep-deprived mind. "Noona… what’s the plan for tomorrow?" you mumbled against her forehead, lips brushing her skin.

Mina’s lashes fluttered open, revealing those dark, dangerous eyes that always saw too much. A smirk curled at the corner of her swollen lips.

"‘Talk That Talk’ jacket shoot," she purred, her nails digging possessively into your hip. "Fishnet stockings. Corsets. Thigh-highs."

Your throat went dry.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

You’d seen the wardrobe previews. The stylists had outdone themselves this time—sinful lace, skimpy cutouts, outfits designed to make ONCEs lose their minds. And now you had to stand there, professional, while Mina—

"You’ll be good, won’t you?" Her voice was sweet, but her fingers traced your jawline with the threat of a guillotine. "No staring at Chaeyoung’s corset. No fixing Momo’s garter belt too slowly."

You swallowed hard.

"I—I’m working, Noona—"

"Exactly," she interrupted, her knee pressing between your thighs with lethal precision. "And if I catch you looking anywhere but my face during close-ups?"

Her free hand slid down your stomach, her fingers brushing over the sensitive skin just below your navel.

"I’ll ruin you in the dressing room," she whispered, her breath hot against your ear. "And this time? No one will hear you beg."

A shiver tore down your spine.

"Y-Yes, Noona," you choked out.

Mina hummed, satisfied, before nestling back into your chest.

"Good boy."

And as you lied there, staring at the ceiling, one thought circled your mind like a vulture—

You were so, so fucked tomorrow.

You knew better than to let Mina’s threat linger. With a slow, deliberate movement, you tilted her chin up, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Her breath hitched—just slightly—before she melted against you, her fingers loosening their death grip on your hip.

"Mmhn~..." she murmured against your mouth, her lashes fluttering. "Cheap tactics."

You didn’t stop.

Your lips trailed down her jaw, nipping at the sensitive spot beneath her ear—the one that always made her shiver.

"Not cheap," you corrected, your voice a rough whisper. "Strategic."

Mina huffed, but her body arched into your touch, her earlier dominance wavering under the persistent press of your mouth.

"You think this’ll save you tomorrow?" she breathed, her nails scraping down your chest.

You grinned, kissing her again—deeper this time, your tongue swiping at her lower lip until she moaned into your mouth.

"Worth a shot," you mumbled, your hands squeezing her waist.

Mina sighed, her body sinking into yours with resigned pleasure.

"...Fine," she grumbled, her voice laced with fond irritation. "But if you breathe too long near Sana’s corset, I’m tying you to my dressing room chair."

You chuckled, pressing one last kiss to her forehead.

"Noted."

And as she snuggled closer, her breaths evening out against your skin, you smiled into the dark.

Victory.

#twice #twice mina smut #twice mina #mina smut #myoui mina #twice x male reader #twice x reader #nayeon #chaeyoung #jeongyeon #jihyo #momo #sana #dahyun #mina #tzuyu #twice smut #girl group smut #gg smut

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nczennie · 5 months ago

Text

eyes on you.

Pairing: Reader x Ateez's San AU: Cam Couple Genre: Smut (18+ only) Summary: You and your boyfriend decide to hold a private stream with a generous subscriber in order to make some extra cash. Words: 5k Warnings under cut

Warnings: Smut scene (fingering, dirty talk, unprotected penetrative sex f. receiving, oral m. receiving, use of sex toys f. receiving, allusions to mxm)

"Baby," San calls to you as you exit the bathroom, the steam from your shower following you out, "Come take a look at this."

Walking over to where he sits at his desk, you move your damp hair over your shoulder in order to start combing through it. He hovers the mouse over a message and you squint and move closer to read it over his shoulder.

I once again enjoyed the wonderful show you both put on. I am reaching out to see if you both would be interested in a private stream. I am willing to pay the price you deem fit.

After taking in the words you look to San to see his reaction. He merely looks at you in return, eyes telling nothing.

You and your boyfriend opened an account on an adult streaming service over a year ago. Seeking to finish your masters degree while San was saving to open a dance studio with his friends made you both fairly desperate to earn some extra cash. It had started as a joke but once one of his friends mentioned he had an account during college and was able to afford his rent made you both wonder.

And now over a year later and you were a popular couple of the streaming site, both of you earning enough money to start a savings account for your dreams.

Private streams however were not something either of you were familiar with. There had been a few times where you had received messages requesting a private show with just you or just San but from the start you made it clear it was not something you were both interested in. Both of you feeling more comfortable putting a show on together.

That way, it was sometimes easy to forget there was an audience other from when San would read from the chat.

This request however was a first, seeming to request the both of you.

"What do you think?" You finally ask him, putting your hand on his shoulder. You feel as he shrugs, "I mean maybe it wouldn't be so bad with the both of us, and he said he was willing to pay whatever..." He trails off and you know he's thinking of the building him and his friends just bought. It was the first step in their dream dance studio but they just discovered a major leak.

Extra money like this would be a huge help.

You move your hand up to rub on his neck gently, "I don't want you to feel like you have to accept because of money, San. Private streams are a different atmosphere and we should both be comfortable if we agree."

Your boyfriend sighs, but nods. "I know, I've already been checking out his profile. He doesn't have much, no name, no picture. But he has been subscribed to us for nearly eight months now."

You hum look as he clicks to the profile of user195151478231.

Just like he suggested, the profile is bear, just the required age listed. It shows he's in his early 30's so at least there isn't a horrible age gap.

San moves around the computer quietly to check the settings of the user showing their stats on your profile. As he slowly scrolls through you both see how has checked into most of your streams and is a generous tipper. However when it comes to the chat there is nothing. This mystery person has not once commented in the stream chat.

You move to place a soft kiss on San's forehead, "Why don't you reach out and learn more about this anonymous person before we decide anything." He nods his head in agreement before you turn and head back into the bathroom to finish your routine.

It's only a couple of days later when you come home from class, dropping your stuff in the entrance before searching for San.

You find him comfortably on the couch, his laptop in his lap. "Hi, baby." You say greeting him with a kiss to his cheek. He turns his head to smile at you, "How was class?" He asks as you move to the kitchen to wash your hands. "Fine, just talking about the paper outlines." Drying your hands on a rag before taking a seat next to him, "What've you been up to?"

He turns the device to show you his screen better. Leaning in and taking it in to realize he was on the chat with the viewer from before. You take a minute to read through.

user195151478231: I once again enjoyed the wonderful show you both put on. I am reaching out to see if you both would be interested in a private stream. I am willing to pay the price you deem fit.

San&YN: Thank you for being a loyal viewer. I hope you don't mind us asking a few questions before we decide anything.

user195151478231: Of course not. Whatever I can do to make you both comfortable.

San looks to you, "What should we ask him?" You laugh softly, "You didn't think that far ahead?" He purses his lips, "I mean I know we should be comfortable with him if it's a private show, but what would make us feel better?"

Shrugging in response you hum as you think, this was new for both of you. "Why don't you ask if he does private streams a lot?" You suggest. You don't know what difference it would be if he did but it was something. San begins to type.

San&YN: Do you regularly participate in private streams?

He enters it and only moments later you see he is typing, obviously online.

user195151478231: I don't. Some years ago I did some private streams but stopped when I got into a relationship. But now that I am single again, and you've both peaked my interest I thought I would reach out.

Both you and San take a minute to read his response. "Would it," San starts hesitating, "Would it sound stupid to ask him how he expects the stream to work." You immediately shake your head, "No, we should be on the same page."

San&YN: We've never done a private show before. What would it entail for you?

user195151478231: For me? Well in the past, I've always had my camera on along with the streamer. That way we can talk to each other, help each other. Like a regular stream but more intimate.

After reading, you somehow feel more comfortable knowing that you would be able to see this strangers face, hear his voice. You tell San this as he thinks for a second. "But what if he's ugly and we can't get in the mood?" You let out a surprised sound and he laughs, "What? It's true!"

You frown, suddenly think of turning on the stream and seeing the worst.

His laptop dings and you see he's sent another message.

user195151478231: But again, this is about whatever you both are comfortable with.

You watch as San types.

San&YN: We are considering it, but would you mind telling us a little more about yourself so we know who we are getting into this with?

user195151478231: Of course.

You and San watch in silence as the stranger type for a minute. And when the notification finally goes off, you both lean forward, eager to see.

user195151478231: I'm 34 years old, I'm a property law lawyer in Seoul. Some of my friends and I started our own firm so I've been extra busy this past year. That's why I've turned to this site since my last relationship ended. I will attach a photo of myself as well.

As you finish reading another ding somes as the picture he promised pops up. "Oh." You can't help but say out loud as you take in the photo.

The stranger turns out to be one of the most handsome men you have seen. In the photo he's adorned in a professional suit, posture perfect and a small closed lip smile on his face. His hair is black and styled nicely, thick eyebrows and full lips. His tan skin glowing.

"Wow." San says despite himself. "Yeah." You say quietly as you both stare the the picture for another minute.

The computer dings again.

user195151478231: And my name is Seonghwa. Park Seonghwa.

If anyone were to ask if the only reason you and San decided to do a private session with Seonghwa was merely after seeing his picture, of course you would disagree.

But you can't deny it didn't play a big part.

Once he told you more about himself you both decided it would be nice to give it a try. He made it clear that you both could end it at any point you weren't feeling comfortable.

You let San talk out the price with him, comparing what he's spent before and making it more than a regular public stream, but sending him a glare when he suggest the full total of the leak repair.

Piece by piece it began to fall together and before you knew it, your private stream was set for Friday evening.

You had asked Seonghwa if there was anything specific he wanted for the stream, for example what he wanted you both to wear, but he requested nothing. Claiming for now it would be better to start naturally and get comfortable.

San had the great idea of looking through his tipping history. He found his biggest tip had been when you were wearing a white set white San in some business clothes.

So when Friday evening came along, you showered and dressed in a matching white lingerie set. Throwing a small silk nightgown over it. Adding some mascara, blush, and lip gloss before making sure your hair was in place.

You step out of the bathroom to see San setting up the streaming camera. He's bent over the tripod, making sure the view of your bed in centered. He wears some navy blue slacks and a white button up, not fully buttoned and sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms.

Once satisfied he switches on the warm ring light that makes for better viewing before smiling softly at you, "You look beautiful." You smile back and do a small twirl for him. "Are you nervous?" He asks as you walk towards him. But you shake your head. "No, not yet." You say truthfully, for now it feels just like any other stream but you figure that will change once reality starts to set in.

San checks the watch on his wrist before letting out a sigh, "We have a couple of minutes." He moves to grab his laptop to connect everything, making it easy to invite Seonghwa in once he sees he's online.

You sit carefully on the edge of the bed, running your hands over the soft sheets. "Do you think we need anything?" You ask him. Your streams often involved you both using toys and you wondered if Seonghwa wanted to see any of them. San shrugs, keeping his focus on the computer. "But I set some stuff out in case." You look on the other side of the bed and saw he had placed some items on the floor in reaching distance.

The next couple of minutes you sit silently trying to distract yourself of any nervous thoughts before San speaks, "Okay, he is online. I'm going to invite him."

Your heart jumps as it's finally time, taking a deep breath as San clicks around on the computer. A familiar noise tells you both it's connected as San moves back to sit beside you on the bed.

Watching the desktop screen in front of you, you wait patiently for Seonghwa's screen to load in. And when it does, you already find yourself blushing.

The man is just as beautiful, if not more, than the picture he sent you both. Even through the pixelated screen.

"Hi," the man speaks in a deep voice, a small smile quirked on his face, "Sorry, I was running late from a meeting." He states still in his business clothes.

There's a beat of silence before San clears his throat, "No problem, we were just setting up." You both watch as Seonghwa loosens the tie around his neck and rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt up.

"You both look so good for me." He speaks out, causing a blush to rise even on your boyfriends cheeks.

He speaks again to break the silence, "It's okay to be nervous. I usually like to tell my partners what I want to see. Is that okay with you?"

Nodding your head you speak quietly, "I think that would help." You look to San to confirm. He nods his head.

Seonghwa nods before leaning back in his chair. "Let's start off easy then. Why don't you guys kiss for me."

The way he adds "for me" at the end of his sentences causes a heat to pool in your stomach. You turn eagerly to San, letting his hand reach to cup your cheek.

San kisses you gently but deeply. His tongue heavy in your mouth and you know he wants to make sure Seonghwa can see. His hand roams the silk of your gown before moving to your knee. The kisses become messier and embarrassing loud but you hear Seonghwa hum from the computer.

Your boyfriend's hand runs up your thigh, catching your gown and bringing it up further, displaying your soft skin to the camera. He pulls away with spit coated lips, "Sit on my lap, baby." He says lowly but enough for Seonghwa to hear.

Throwing your leg over him, you settle down on his lap, moving your mouth eagerly to meet his again. San groans in appreciation of your weight on him, both of his hands coming to grip the backs of your thighs.

Both of you staying kissing like this for a moment before San seems to remember you had a show to put on.

You feel his hands move, gliding up the back of your thighs and under the silk of your dress. Humming against his lips as he moves them over the cheeks of your ass, pulling your dress up with him.

San holds your waist, keeping the bottom of your dress crumpled in his hands, leaving you exposed to Seonghwa's view. Nothing covering you except for the tiny white underwear you carefully chose for him. "What a pretty view." You hear come from the computer. San replies by sending his hand to smack against your ass, a whine breaking from your mouth. You hear Seonghwa groan as San moves you to sit beside him on the bed once again.

Your boyfriend leans in to kiss you once more, tongue leading the way before his wet kisses leave your mouth and travel down your jaw to your neck. You let out breaths of pleasure tilting your head to the side allowing San even more room to work his lips and tongue against you.

You find yourself opening your eyes and making eye contact with the handsome man on the screen. Seonghwa smirks when he catches your gaze, hands moving to slowly unbutton the buttons of his shirt, the tie he once more nowhere to be found.

San's teeth nibble lightly on your skin causing you to close your eyes, mouth falling open with pleasure before he pulls away. He gives you a smug smile before reaching to grab the hem of your dress, finally pulling it up over your head.

"I want to see her properly, do you think you can sit her on your lap for me?" Seonghwa speaks gruffly through the screen and you and San both turn your attention to him. You blush further taking in the sight of his tanned bare chest, fully on display now that the white shirt is unbuttoned.

You let San situate himself at the end of the bed before he pulls you on his lap, facing Seonghwa with a blush. The man only smirks, "There we go." He says as San resumes kissing on your neck, his warm hands traveling up your bare stomach to the white lace of your bra.

He caresses you over the material before pulling the cups down, letting your breasts spill out. His thumbs automatically coming up to roll over your hardened nipples. A sigh of pleasure leaves you as you keep your gaze on Seonghwa. It's sort of strange to see him, a viewer, merely taking pleasure in watching you both. It's hard to imagine this is what the thousands of viewers look like when you put on a normal stream. There's a moment when you wonder if you should be talking to him or merely put on a show for him to watch.

But then again he was the one who told you he would tell you what he likes so you try not to stress. Especially when San moves to unclasp your bra, pulling it down your arms and tossing it to the floor.

San moves his hands up to fully massage your breasts, tongue teasing your neck which causes you to rut yourself against his lap. Seonghwa hums, "I bet she's really wet, isn't she? Will you show me?"

At the request one of San's hands moves down your torso, slipping into your panties and dipping a few fingers into the wetness Seonghwa knew was there. "So fucking wet." He speaks bringing his hand back up and slipping the fingers into your mouth which you take eagerly.

"Fuck." Seonghwa groans at the sight of you tasting yourself and you notice the way his hand dips below the screen as you move your tongue around San's fingers.

"C'mon, lean back, baby. Let him see you." San says removing the fingers from your mouth to adjust you. You lean back into his chest as you let San spread your legs over his thighs; the damp spot on your white panties now fully on display for Seonghwa.

San wastes no time, pulling your panties to the side, your glistening core now fully displayed for the camera. Seonghwa hums out, "I love your pretty pussy, baby. Look how wet you are."

Your boyfriend pushes two of his fingers through your folds, spreading your wetness with a slick sound. His fingers come up to circle around your clit causing you to whine out, eyes feeling heavy as you keep your gaze on Seonghwa.

He takes his fingers and pushes them slowly in your hole, mouth opening silently as he stretches you out. Once they're fully in he moves them rapidly, moans starting to fill the room barely covering the sound of the squelching.

"That's it, fuck her open," Seonghwa says deeply, "Add another finger, San. Get her ready for your big cock."

You can tell that Seonghwa's words are effecting your boyfriend from the way he bucks into you. Listening to his instructions as he pushes another finger into you with little resistance. "She's tight, isn't she?" Seonghwa speaks again, clearly trying to draw San into the game. "So fucking tight," San speaks gruffly into your ear, sending a shiver through you. "You'd love this pussy." He says again, your head falling back onto his shoulder at his words. Imagining Seonghwa here with you physically adding to your pleasure as San's fingers continue to fuck into you.

You start to squirm, the pleasure taking ahold of you but Seonghwa is quick to notice. "Don't let her cum, San. Not yet. Want to see her cum on your cock."

San listens immediately, wet fingers leaving you, automatically coming up to slap on your clit a few times causing a sob to leave you. You take a moment to attempt to catch your breath as your boyfriend works to completely remove your panties from you. Tossing them to the ground with your other clothing.

He makes you sit up for a second working behind you to get his cock out of his pants as you turn your attention to the man on the screen. "You're doing so well." He compliments with a smirk, reaching to completely remove his shirt. The sight of his tan body causing you to gulp.

San reaches to pull you back against his chest. His slacks and underwear now kicked to the floor as you feel his hard cock ghost over your core.

He maneuvers you into the right position, leaning into him and legs bent, making sure Seonghwa would have the perfect view. With a groan he pushes the thick head of his cock into your soaking hole. Taking his time pushing the rest of his length in with ease. "Fuck, that's good." Seonghwa compliments, pushing his chair back, allowing you to see more of him as he reaches to undo his belt.

Seonghwa undoes his pants as he keeps his eyes on you, letting his hand wander over his hardening cock over his underwear. It seems San enjoys the sight as well his his reaches to hook your legs on his arms, planting his feet firmly on the floor before fucking up into you at a pace that nearly has you drooling.

"Yes, yes, yes." Falls from your mouth as you moan loudly, the feeling of Sans cock sliding against the walls of your cunt too good to conger up any other words. It doesn't take long before you're close, the intensity of his thrusts mixed with the watchful eyes of Seonghwa were enough to quickly push you over the edge. "I'm cumming." You whine out, closing your eyes and and trying to close your legs from the overwhelming feeling.

But Sans strong grip keeps them open, though he does slow his thrusts to help you ride your pleasure out. "What a good girl, cumming all over his cock." Seonghwa groans, giving his covered length a firm squeeze.

As you breathe heavily, San begins to speed his thrusts up again, "Love you squeezing my cock like that, baby." He compliments, obviously ready to chase his own high. But Seonghwa speaks up, "Pull out, San. I don't want you to finish yet."

Your boyfriend hesitates for a second, and you can tell he is contemplating listening or not. For San is surely not used to the one following orders instead of giving them.

But sure enough, after a moment, he slips from your warmth, his still hard cock slapping against your sensitive clit. "Good boy." Seonghwa says nonchalantly, not giving either of you a second to dwell on it before he speaks again. "Do you have any toys near you, a dildo?"

You blink before nodding, looking towards San as if to tell him to grab what he set out earlier. San stands moving to the side of the bed, and you watch as he quickly unbuttons his shirt and removes it before grabbing the dildo from the floor and returning to the bed.

At the sight, Seonghwa smirks before nodding. "Here's what I want you to do." He says.

He says your name causing you to look at him, "I want you to pretend that's my cock, do you understand? I want you to be a good girl and ride my cock for me." You bite your lip, nodding quickly.

"And you still need to take care of our San." He continues, "So while you take my cock in your pussy, you need to take his in your throat. I've seen what you can do." Seonghwa speaks making you press your thighs together, whimpering as you're still sensitive.

San moves to place the toy on the bed, holding it in place as he motions to you, "C'mon, baby, sit on his cock."

You straddle the toy carefully, your back facing the camera as you slip easily into your hole, the wetness from before making you bottom out quicker than you anticipated, a cry leaving your mouth.

Moaning as you start to move, you lean forward on your hands, starting to ride the toy quicker. Your ass slamming down as you turn your head, eager to see what Seonghwa thinks. And it does not disappoint as you find him finally fully naked, long cock in his hand as he strokes to the rhythm of how you move on the toy.

"Love this view, can see you taking my cock so well." He groans as you pull back up, cunt leaving a soaking trail as it squeezes around the dildo.

You feel San move on the bed, looking as he kneels on his knees just beside you, hard cock in his hand as he waits for your attention. When you finally look up at him, he smirks, loving how fucked out you look, mouth open from your moans.

"Open up, baby." He says moving forward, pushing the head of his cock past your wet lips. You groan as you take him in your mouth. The heaviness of his cock on your tongue only adding to your pleasure as you swivel your hips around the toy.

You let San thrust into your mouth, keeping your hands firmly in the sheets to steady yourself. He stays shallow until you look up at him, your eyes meeting his and the look of your lips around his cock causing him to groan. San places his hand gently on your cheek, stilling you as he pushes his cock fully into your mouth.

Your boyfriend lets out a deep moan, head tilting back in pleasure as you expertly take him into your throat. It's not an easy task but he's trained you well. You keep your breath steady and eyes closed as he begins to move once more.

"Fuck, yes." Seonghwa calls from the screen, obviously enjoying what he's asked you both to do. San keeps his hand on your cheek, thumb running over it, almost romantically if it wasn't for the gurgling sounds that leave your mouth as he fucks your throat.

Your watering eyes look up at him once more causing him to break, "Fuck, I'm cumming." He groans, "Need you to swallow it, baby." He moans, holding your cheek as he settles in your throat, your nose pressed firmly to the skin of his pelvis as you still yourself.

San cums with a twitch, his moans barely breaking through the ringing of your ears as his seed runs down your throat. When you attempt to swallow around him, he pulls out of your mouth with a hiss, already feeling sensitive.

You let yourself breathe deeply for a second before sticking your tongue out at your boyfriend, showing him you've swallowed all he gave you. He hums, leaning to give you a couple kisses, "Good girl."

At the compliment you start to bounce once again on the toy, eager to chase another high. "San, since she was such a good girl, why don't you help her cum on my cock." Seonghwa speaks up.

You let out a moan without even looking, San moving towards the end of the bed. He pushes down on your lower back, making you lean against your forearms, spreading your legs even wider wanting Seonghwa to have the perfect view.

San grabs ahold of the toy, getting a firm grip before fucking it quickly into you. The wetness of your hole sounding loudly. "Yeah," Seonghwa groans, "Help me fuck her." He speaks and although you can't see him, you picture his hand moving quicker along his cock. "Please," You whine out loudly, so close to the edge you nearly cry.

Your boyfriend keeps his fast pace steady, leaving closer as he presses kissed onto your raised ass, his other hand sneaking under you to rub circles on your clit.

You sob into the sheets, feeling overwhelmed in the pleasure you're receiving until you finally snap. Your orgasm washing over your body completely, pleasure flooding your veins as you fall onto your stomach, trapping Sans hand underneath you.

He removes the dildo from you slowly, leaving kisses on you ass and up your back as you recover. But you didn't have long.

You hear Seonghwa call your name, "I'm gunna cum, can you get up for me?" Though nearly dazed, you sit and turn to face the camera. Making sure to look straight at Seonghwa and not your own view in fear of what a mess you look.

"Clean yourself off my cock." He says breathlessly. You blink and San holds the dildo to your mouth. You lick over the plastic head before closing your lips over it. You watch him pleasure himself through the screen, making sure to open your mouth and use lots of tongue in order to put on a proper show.

Seonghwa speaks again, "San, help her."

Your boyfriend glances at the screen unsure of what he means, he was already holding the toy for you.

"Your tongue, use your tongue." He speaks and you almost freeze. Never in your time with San had you seen him do something like that. You know his past relationships were different, but you've never seen that side of him.

He hesitates for a second before slowly leaning forward, tongue sticking out to lick along the toy where your mouth didn't cover. "Yes," Seonghwa groans out as you both continue to silently work the toy.

You can tell he's close as his movements quicken and his breathing can be heard from the computer. Both you and San let your tongues lick over the fake cock, a small moan leaving your mouth as your tongues meet along the toy. The action sending a spark to your core. Seonghwa must enjoy it too as he finally groans loudly, "Fuck yes, gunna cum. Gunna cover your tongues. Fuck." He lets out as you watch with burning cheeks as he throws his head back onto the chair, ropes of his cum coating his fist and pelvis.

You take in his beauty for a second more before glancing at San who meets your gaze. His cheeks just as flushed as yours as you have a feeling that something in your relationship just shifted.

631 notes · View notes

ateezscupid · 10 days ago

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─── 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, 𝒀𝑶𝑼.. ꕮ 001 ─ Fiesty Girl.

SUMMARY / Your friend has been begging you to join her on a night out in the club. Club's aren't really your scene, but you decided to go anyway, not knowing you had become Yunho's next target.

WARNINGS ✩ Sensitive Topics!! (death, murder, stalking), alcohol and drug use, Yunho stalks reader during and after the club, heavy language, sexual harassment (some guy harasses reader at the club)

WORD COUNT ✩ 4.8k

tags ✩ @desirehorizon @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @lezleeferguson-120 @hwallazia @hoe4yunho @prettylilack @lustfxq @shownumiss @hwxbibi @nneteyamss @joonhasjiminsjams @herpoetryprincess @napipope-ta @wyrated @leeseokiwi @trinityobsessesovatings @kittykat-25

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / SERIES MASTERLIST / REQUEST ─── Next Chapter ౨ৎ

NOTE !! I should let all of you know, before any smut or things like that, Yunho is a YEARNER. Meaning in the chapters with smut, he's either going to be a switch or full-sub.

Yunho doesn't like to call himself a killer.

It's not like he enjoys it, really. Yunho isn't a sadist, not in the traditional sense. He just sees it as a means to an end. A way to eliminate the noise, to restore order to his otherwise chaotic world. The irony isn't lost on him that he finds refuge in the quiet solitude that follows a life extinguished.

Yunho's day job is simple: he owns a small art studio in the heart of Seoul, where he spends his hours lost in the tranquil dance of paint on canvas or the meditative molding of clay. His hands, those same hands that had painted such grisly scenes, now coaxed life from lifeless materials. The studio is a sanctuary of sorts, a place where he can be himself, free from the judgmental eyes that seem to follow him everywhere. The smell of turpentine and wet paint is comforting, a stark contrast to the sterile scent of a crime scene.

He's meticulous, a trait that serves him well in both his art and his other hobby. Each stroke is calculated, each color chosen with purpose. His mind is a canvas of chaos, but on these walls, he is the master, orchestrating a symphony of order. Yunho enjoys the quietude, the gentle taps of his brush or the scrape of a sculpting tool. It's in these moments that he feels most alive, most in control.

But then there's the thrill of the hunt. The rush of finding the perfect muse, someone who doesn't quite fit the mold, someone who intrigues him enough to pursue. It's a game, really. A dance of deception and manipulation that ends in a crescendo of fear and silence. Yet, it's a dance he's tired of leading. The faces of his victims blur together in a macabre mosaic, each one a puzzle piece to the picture he's trying to escape.

It would be wrong to say he gets off on seeing them cry and tremble in fear. He doesn't, not really. Jeong Yunho is more of a…connoisseur of moments. The way the light hits their face when they realize their fate, the sudden stillness of their body when the life leaves their eyes, it's like capturing a perfect photograph. But the thrill is wearing thin, the excitement fading like the vibrant colors of a forgotten painting.

While staring at his half finished painting, Yunho's phone buzzes. He gets excited, thinking it's someone on the dating app he's been using for a while, but it was instead his friend, Mingi. He sighs heavily, tossing aside the brush and wiping his hands on a cloth before swiping the screen.

Minki: "me and the guys r gonna go to the club tonight. ik it's not ur typa thing but like, do u wanna go?"

He stared at the text, contemplating his response. Jeong Yunho wasn't a club person; the loud music, the crush of bodies, it all felt so…ordinary. But lately, he's been feeling a strange emptiness, a yearning for something new. He thought of the faces on the dating app, each one a potential muse for his twisted art. Yet none had sparked that usual thrill of the chase. Maybe a change of scene would help?

"Why not?" He typed back, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

After agreeing this begged the question, what should he wear? Jeong Yunho's wardrobe was a collection of dark, tailored suits and casual wear that blended him into the shadows. He chose a black t-shirt and a leather jacket, something that wouldn't scream 'serial killer' but still maintained his enigmatic vibe. He didn't bother with a tie, tucking the shirt into his dark-washed jeans instead. A quick glance in the mirror and he was satisfied. He looked like every other guy going to a club, not a monster lurking in the shadows.

The club was a cacophony of sound and light, a stark contrast to his serene studio. The bass thumped through his chest, the strobe lights casting erratic shadows across the gyrating bodies. He felt like a predator in an alien environment, searching for prey that didn't quite fit the pattern of his usual victims. He took a sip of his drink, the sharp taste of whiskey burning a path down his throat. He didn't drink often, but tonight he needed something to ease the tension coiled in his gut.

It smelt like alcohol, cigarettes, and a hint of cheap cologne—a scent that was all too familiar to Yunho from his rare forays into the social scene. His eyes darted around the room, searching for the face that would spark that elusive thrill, the one that could potentially break the mundane cycle of his life. The flashing lights reflected off the sequins and glitter that adorned the female attendees, creating a disco ball effect on his retina that was mildly nauseating.

How could anyone like places like this? Yunho thought to himself, his eyes scanning the crowded dance floor of the nightclub. The thumping bass of the music was a constant, irritating hum in his ears, and the smells of sweat and cheap perfume made his nose wrinkle. Yet here he was, in a desperate attempt to find something—anything—that would shake him out of his mundane life.

He saw his friends sitting in a nearby booth, flirting with random girls, and he felt a pang of jealousy. They were free to live their lives without the burden of their dark secrets. He wished he could be like them, carefree and untainted by the shadows that lurked in his mind.

They probably think they're so much better than him. That they've got the world figured out. But Yunho knows the truth. He knows that everyone's got their own demons to face, even if his are a little… more hands-on. He takes a deep breath, trying to push those thoughts aside as he makes his way over to the bar, the neon lights playing tricks on his vision.

As he scoots into a booth, the sounds of two girls laughing and giggling fills the space around him. They're young, probably college students letting loose for the weekend. Yunho can't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for a time when he could enjoy simple moments like these without the weight of his compulsion. He nods to his friends, who are already halfway through their drinks, and orders another whiskey. The bartender, a young man with a studded earring, slides it over with a smile, and Yunho takes a moment to appreciate the smooth burn as it slides down his throat.

He was starting to think that he should leave when he saw you. You were standing by the edge of the dance floor, your eyes scanning the room as if you were looking for someone. There was something about you, something different from the usual prey he stalked. You weren't dressed to impress, no revealing dress or sky-high heels. Instead, you wore a simple black dress that hugged your curves, and your hair fell in soft waves around your shoulders. You looked lost in thought, a stark contrast to the carefree smiles of those around you.

You bit your lip nervously as you shifted through the crowd, trying to make your way to the front door. Your friend said she'd be out in five, but that was twenty minutes ago. The club was a chaotic blur of lights and bodies, and you were already feeling claustrophobic.

And finally, she walked through the doors, a cheesy smile on her face. "Y/N! I knew you'd come!"

Yunho examined the outfit your friend had on. It was flashy and revealing, not quite your style. You rolled your eyes at her over-the-top enthusiasm, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by the artist in him.

"What the hell took so long? You said you'd be out in five and it's been twenty fucking minutes. I almost left." You scolded your friend as you approached her, your voice barely heard over the thunderous bass.

"Sssorryyy! I pre-gamed!" Your friend giggled, her cheeks flushed and eyes slightly glazed. Yunho couldn't help but smile at the mundane interaction, the authenticity of your annoyance with your friend's typical behavior. You grabbed her by the elbow and steered her through the sea of bodies, back to the safety of the less crowded bar area.

Yunho watched you from afar, your movements deliberate and controlled amidst the chaos. You didn't belong here, not in the way the other girls did. You were a painting in a room full of stick figures, a masterpiece in a kindergarten class. The way you held your drink, the tilt of your head when you talked—it was all so… real. So unrehearsed.

You glanced around the club. There were a handful of attractive men, but none of them seemed to be looking for anything more than a one-night stand. The music was loud, the lights were flashing, and the air was thick with the scent of desperation. It was like everyone here was trying too hard to be seen, to be felt. And there you were, the girl who looked like she'd rather be anywhere else, sipping on a drink that was probably as watered down as your patience.

"He's cute," your friend accidentally yelled in your ear, jolting you out of your introspection. You followed her gaze to see who she was referring to and found yourself looking into the eyes of a man who seemed…different. Different in the sense that he was coked out.

"Absolutely not. He's literally snorting coke as we speak." You reply with a deadpan expression, watching as your friend's eyes widen in excitement.

"Seriously?!" Your friend shouts back, her voice competing with the thunderous bass, "You've got to lighten up, Y/N! Cmon! He's totally checking you out!"

"He was also checking that coke out." You deadpanned, sipping on your watered-down vodka soda.

"Okay, but like, he might actually like you and then like, he'll probably stop doing drugs to change for you and stuff. It's like a K-Drama plot," your friend insists, her voice still too loud despite her proximity.

"Fine! Fine. But you're coming with me." You relented, raising your voice slightly to be heard over the din. Your friend's eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store as you pushed through the crowd together.

The man you approached was tall, with a lean build and a sharp jawline, dressed in a compression shirt and sweats. Kind of out of place for a club, but you couldn't deny that he was super fit. You look up at him, his eyes staring at you and your friend with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"We saw you staring at us," you shouted over the music, your voice filled with playful accusation.

"Nope. I was staring at you," he steps closer, his voice cutting through the music with surprising clarity. "Your friend is…enthusiastic." He says with a nod towards your overeager companion.

He had a nice smile, he smelled really good, but…it was something about him that felt off. Meanwhile, Yunho was sitting at the bar, slowly sipping his drink as he watched the interaction unfold. The man, with the cocky grin and the body that screamed 'I work out', didn't seem to be making much headway with you. You were polite but guarded, your eyes flicking back and forth between him and your friend as if you were contemplating an escape plan.

"You're cute." the man stepped even closer, his hand brushing yours. You couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine, not from his touch, but from the coldness in his eyes that didn't match his warm smile. You glanced over at your friend for support, but she was already dancing with a group of guys, leaving you to fend for yourself.

"Thanks…" you giggle nervously. "Um, I should go check on my friend. She gets ditzy when drunk and-"

"Forget about her. I wanna take you home." The man's voice was smooth, but his intent was anything but casual. You could see the hunger in his eyes, a hunger that didn't make your heart race in the good way.

"N-No, no, I'm fine, really!" You protested, taking a step back, but the man's hand was already on your waist, his grip surprisingly firm. Panic began to set in, a cold sweat breaking out on your forehead.

"Stop being a stubborn bitch and come home with me. Not like you got anything better to do." The man's smile never wavered, but his grip tightened, his eyes gleaming with something darker than lust.

"Get off of me-" you start to protest, your voice getting lost in the throb of the music. Your heart races as you try to pull away, but the man's grip is like a vice, his smile turning predatory.

Yunho only stared, his grip tightening around the glass. The man's audacity was like a slap in the face, jolting him out of his detached observation of the club scene. His mind, usually a whirlwind of thoughts and plans, suddenly snapped into focus. This wasn't the first time he'd seen someone treat a woman with such disregard, but for some reason, this was different. This was personal.

Getting up thinking he'd have to defend you, he was surprised when you slapped the man across his cheek with surprising strength. The sound was like a crack of thunder in the chaos of the club, drawing the attention of the surrounding crowd when he yelled. The man's smile dropped, replaced by a snarl of anger, his hand rising to strike back.

But before he could make contact, Yunho was there. He grabbed the man's wrist with a firm grip, his eyes burning with a rage that was all too familiar to him. "I don't think she wants to go anywhere with you," he said calmly, his voice a stark contrast to the chaos around them.

"…Who the fuck are you?!" The man snarled, his hand still in Yunho's iron grip.

"Does it matter?" Yunho replied, his voice as smooth as silk, his grip tightening slightly.

The man looked from Yunho to you, his eyes narrowing. He was bigger than Yunho, more obviously muscular, but there was something about the way the artist held himself that made him pause. The confidence in his stance, the coolness in his gaze—it was intimidating, to say the least.

"You should listen to her," Yunho said, his voice low and measured, his grip on the man's wrist unyielding. "She's had enough."

The man looked from Yunho's hand to his face, the rage in his eyes slowly giving way to fear. He could feel the power in Yunho's grip, the promise of pain if he didn't let go. With a growl of frustration, he yanked his hand back and took a step away, rubbing his wrist. "You're both fucking crazy," he spat, before stumbling off into the crowd.

You fixed your hair and looked at Yunho, a mix of surprise and gratitude in your eyes. "Thanks," you murmured, the sound of the music making it hard to hear anything beyond the bass.

"It's nothing," he replied, his gaze never leaving yours. There was something in his eyes that made your heart flutter. It wasn't fear or attraction, it was something more…complex. Something you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"Are you the type of guy to ask for sex just because you "saved my life" or whatever?" You quipped, trying to ease the tension with a bit of humor.

Yunho chuckled, the sound sending a warm feeling through you. "No, I'm not. I just don't like to see people treat others like that."

You studied him, the way he talked, the way he moved—then examined his outfit. He definitely didn't belong here. "What's a guy like… you doing at a place like this?" You asked, your voice barely a murmur over the music.

"Here for my friends. They dragged me out." Yunho shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. "It's not really my scene."

"Well, do you wanna leave? I can grab my friend and we can go do something else! It's starting to smell like vomit in here." You say, trying to keep the conversation going.

Yunho smiles slightly, amused by your directness. "I'm not much for the club scene, but I can handle it for a bit longer if you'd like to stay."

"You sure?" You ask, noticing his eyes straying to the dance floor. He nodded, his gaze returning to yours with a hint of amusement. "Ohh, you wanna dance?"

He raises an eyebrow, the corners of his lips tilting up slightly. "If it'll keep you from leaving."

You laugh, taking his challenge. You grab his hand and pull him onto the dance floor, the music swallowing you both in a sea of flashing lights and bodies moving in sync. The bass vibrates through your chest, the strobe lights playing with your vision. But it's his touch, the feel of his hand in yours, that sends a thrill through you, something you didn't expect.

Yunho follows your lead, his movements surprisingly fluid and confident. He's not a show-off, not like the other guys here. He dances with an ease that's almost mesmerizing, his eyes never leaving yours. The chaos around you fades into the background, and it's just the two of you, lost in the rhythm of the music.

You can't help but feel a strange connection to him, despite the oddity of your first meeting. He's nothing like the typical guys you've encountered at the club—no leering gazes or sleazy compliments. There's something genuine about the way he looks at you, like he's actually seeing you, not just a body to satisfy his needs.

Yunho, on the other hand, is a storm of thoughts and emotions. He's not used to this kind of interaction—the carefree banter, the simple touch of skin on skin that doesn't end in a scream. He's drawn to you, not just as a potential muse, but as a person. It's confusing, exhilarating, and terrifying all at once.

He still couldn't shake the idea of his hands around your neck, feeling the pulse beneath his fingertips as the life drained from your body. God, he could only imagine the screams that would fill the room, the panic in your eyes as you realized your fate was sealed. But something stopped him, something in the way you laughed at his jokes, something in the way your hand felt in his. It was like a strange, twisted game of cat and mouse, but with the roles reversed.

"So, what's your name?" You shouted over the music, your eyes never leaving his.

"Why do you wanna know my name?" Yunho yells back, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

You laugh, the sound a delightful melody amidst the chaos. "Because I can't just call you 'mysterious stranger' all night!"

"You don't have to," Yunho says, his voice a smooth bass that reaches through the thumping beat. "Just enjoy right now. Don't worry about names."

You cock your head to the side, studying him with curiosity. "You're an interesting one, aren't you?" You shout over the music, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Yunho can't help but laugh at your bluntness. It's refreshing, a cool breeze on a hot summer's day. "Maybe," he shouts back, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smile. "What about you?"

You lean in closer, your breath hot against his ear. "Call me Y/N." You whisper, and the way your voice caresses his skin sends a shiver down his spine. It's a simple exchange of names, but for Yunho, it feels like a secret handshake, a bond formed in the throes of a battle he wasn't expecting to fight.

The two of you continue to dance, your bodies moving together as if you've been doing it for years. You're not the best dancer, but you don't care. There's something about the way Yunho moves with you, guiding you through the steps, that makes you feel safe. It's a strange sensation, considering the dark secrets you know he harbors. But in this moment, under the strobe lights, you're just two people lost in the music.

"Y/N!" you heard your friend yell your name from across the crowded dance floor. She was stumbling over, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glassy from the alcohol. "That guy over there wants to, um, take me home and stuff."

"You sure about that?" You shouted back, eyeing your friend with a mix of concern and amusement. She nodded emphatically, a sloppy grin on her face. Yunho couldn't help but feel a little protective over you, the way your eyes searched the crowd for the friend you'd been worried about all night. It was clear she didn't need saving from the guy she'd found, but he knew better than anyone that the night could still take a turn for the worse.

"Mhm! He called me pretty 'n stuff. I like him," your friend slurred, her eyes glossy with a mix of liquor and infatuation. Yunho's grip on your hand tightened imperceptibly as he scanned the crowd, his eyes narrowing on the group of rowdy men your friend was gesturing towards.

"Yeah… I don't think you should go with them." you say firmly, your voice cutting through the cacophony of the club. You had seen the way they had been eyeing her all night, and your protective instincts were kicking in.

"But whyyyy?" your friend whined, her eyes pleading as she swayed on her feet. "He's soo cute and he said he'd take care of me!"

Yunho's gaze flickered over to the group of men, his expression unreadable. He knew better than anyone the darkness that lurked beneath a charming exterior. "Trust me," he said, his voice firm. "You don't want to go with them."

Your friend pouted, her lower lip jutting out. "But I do!" she insisted, her voice a mix of whine and slur.

Yunho stepped closer to you, his hand sliding around your waist as he leaned in to speak in your ear. "Let's get her out of here. She's had too much to drink."

"Way ahead of you." you slipped from his grasp and grabbed her arm. "You're way too drunk to go with them, okay?"

Yunho nodded, his eyes never leaving the group of men. They were watching you both with hungry eyes, like predators waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. He knew the type all too well. "Let's get some fresh air," he suggested, his voice firm but gentle.

You looked at him, a mix of surprise and gratitude in your gaze. "Okay, let's do that." You helped your friend stumble through the crowded dance floor, Yunho's hand resting protectively on the small of your back as you navigated the throngs of people.

Once outside, the cool air hit you like a slap in the face, a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the club. Your friend leaned heavily against the wall, gasping for air. "Oh my god, I think I'm gonna be sick," she mumbled, her eyes watering.

Yunho's eyes darted around the empty alley, his instincts on high alert. The night was eerily quiet, the distant sound of the club's bass echoing off the brick walls like a heartbeat. He felt a strange sense of déjà vu, his mind flashing to the many nights he'd spent here, but with a much darker purpose. He then stared at you, watching you help your friend sit down on the cold pavement, her head in her hands as she tried to keep her stomach from revolting.

You were so…nice. It was something Yunho wasn't used to. In his world, people were either tools for his art or obstacles to be removed. But you, you were different. You didn't fawn over him or throw yourself at him like the others. You had a strength, a resilience that he hadn't seen in his usual targets. It was intriguing.

He was conflicted. On one hand, he wanted to dare for you, shower you with gifts and compliments, to consume you in a whirlwind romance. But on the other hand, he wanted to see how pretty your blood looked on the pavement. It was a twisted kind of love, one that didn’t fit into the neat little boxes society had constructed for relationships. You were the perfect muse, a puzzle waiting to be solved, a canvas yearning for his art.

"Earth to mystery guy!" You snapped your fingers in front of Yunho's face, bringing him out of his thoughts. He blinked, looking at you with a start before his expression smoothed back into a smile.

"Sorry, zoned out. What's up?" Jeong Yunho said, his eyes refocusing on you.

You laughed, waving off the awkwardness. "I called her roommate. She's gonna come down and pick her up so… all we have to do is wait for her."

Yunho nodded, his eyes still scanning the alleyway. It was strange how comfortable you felt with him, despite his intense gaze. There was something about him that was both unsettling and comforting, like a storm cloud that offered shade on a hot day.

"You keep looking at that alleyway." You observed, your voice a gentle tease as you leaned against the club's wall, your arm supporting your wobbly friend.

"Just making sure we're safe," Yunho replied, his gaze flickering back to you. His voice was like velvet, easy on the ears, and his words were as casual as a Sunday afternoon. But behind those eyes, you could see the gears turning, the mind of a man who had seen more than he cared to admit.

"So you heard about it too? The murders?" You ask casually, the words slipping out as if it were just any other topic. But the way your heart races, the way your eyes dart around the alley, betrays the fear that lurks beneath the surface.

"Oh. Yeah, I heard some rumors," Yunho said casually, his eyes never leaving the shadowy alleyway. "Shame what happened to those people."

"Yeah…" you mumble, your gaze following his to the alley. "Wasn't one of the girl's bodies found in this alley?"

"Yeah." he smirked a bit just thinking about it. He remembered that girl, she was one of the first ones he had picked up from this club. She had been so full of life, so… oblivious to the danger lurking right beside her. He had felt a strange fondness for her, almost like she was a character in a story he was writing. But in the end, she had to go.

He was at least hoping to get her to his apartment, but the streets were empty and the club was loud enough to drown out her screams. The thought made him smirk, but he quickly schooled his features as you looked up at him with those big, doe eyes. You had no idea what he was really thinking.

"You good?" You asked, noticing the slight change in his demeanor. The air grew thick with tension, but he shrugged it off with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Just keeping an eye out," he replied, his gaze never wavering from the shadows. You nodded, the unease settling in your stomach as you waited for your friend's roommate. The conversation stumbled along, mostly about the club and how much you both hated it, until the sound of footsteps echoed down the alley.

Yunho tensed, his eyes narrowing as a figure emerged from the darkness. You held your breath, ready to scream if needed, but as the person stepped into the dim light of the streetlamp, you recognized her. "Thank god," you murmured, relief flooding through you as your friend's roommate rushed over, a look of concern etched on her face.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice filled with worry as she took in your friend's state. You quickly explained the situation, leaving out the part about the creepy guy inside, not wanting to cause a scene. She nodded, her gaze flicking to Yunho before nodding in thanks.

"Thank you so much," she said, turning to Yunho with a grateful smile.

You waved your friend and her roommate goodbye, watching as they disappeared into the night, the sound of their footsteps fading into the distance. You turned to Yunho, feeling a mix of relief and sadness that your night together was coming to an end. "I guess I should get going too," you said, your voice a little shakier than you intended.

Yunho studied you, his eyes searching yours for any lingering fear or hesitation. "Do you need a ride?" he offered, his voice still that smooth bass that seemed to resonate through the night.

You nodded, a small smile ghosting your lips. "That'd be great."

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez imagines #jeong yunho #yunho fanfic #yunho imagines #yunho x you #yunho smut

356 notes · View notes

enwoso · 2 months ago

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silver lining | alessia russo x teen!reader x leah williamson

-> based on this request:)

grumpy masterlist

leah knew it was a bad idea.

scratch that. she knew alessia was going to think it was a bad idea.

but when her fourteen-year-old daughter came to her with your hopeful glimmer in your eye asking if she'd take you to get your belly button pierced — leah had found herself hesitating for all of less than ten seconds before muttering a probably irresponsible "yeah, alright."

leah never could learn to say no to you.

but that was the thing about you — you were impossible to say no to when you gave her the look. the same one your mum had mastered all those years ago when you were little, the same one that leah was yet to, ten years on.

and besides, leah could remember what it was like to be a teenager, how desperate she's been to do something, anything which made her feel a little more grown up.

so that was how the two of you found yourself standing outside the piercing studio. you, practically bouncing on your feet, a bundle of excitement wrapped in your hoodie which was far to big for you. but leah had to admit, she admired your confidence.

"you're sure about this right?" leah asked, shifting on her feet waiting to be seen by the lady on the desk.

you gave your mama a deadpan look, crossing your arms as if she just asked the most ridiculous question ever. "you're the one who said 'yeah alright'"

leah sighed as she watched you quote her exact words, before humming, "that was before i thought about how i might actually die when your mum finds out."

you just grinned, "nah you won't die, she loves you too much to do that”

leah groaned, rubbing a hand over her hand. "and that's exactly the reason why i might die."

but there was no turning back now. you had done your research, picked a proper studio, and leah had already signed the consent form. you were in this together. and really, how bad could this be? It wasn't like you were getting a massive tattoo or something.

...okay, yeah, alessia was going to murder her.

—

by the time they got home, you were still high on adrenaline, lifting the hem of your hoodie every few seconds to admire the small silver barbell now in your belly button.

leah, on the other hand, was feeling increasingly queasy about the conversation she was going to have with a certain blonde.

you, in your infinite wisdom, had suggested you both just not tell alessia.

to which leah had responded, "oh yeah, because she definitely won't notice that the daughter she gave birth to suddenly has a hole in her stomach."

so, when you both walked through the front door, leah braced herself.

alessia was in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove, the scent of tomato sauce filling the air. she looked up when they entered, her sharp blue eyes scanning them. she never missed a beat.

her gaze narrowed. "why do you two look so guilty?"

you, traitor that you were, immediately took a step back. "i'm just gonna—"

"lovie." your mum's voice was sharp. yeah, you were in trouble. you froze mid-step.

leah sighed. "okay, so, funny story..." alessia's eyes snapped to her. "leah."

leah winced.

you, apparently deciding to just rip the band-aid off, lifted your hoodie to reveal the new piercing. "i got my belly button pierced!" you announced, as if it was the best news your mum was going to hear all year.

alessia's expression did something complicated—her mouth opened, then shut, then opened again, before she turned to leah, eyes blazing as she smacked her with the tea towel she was holding. "you took her?!"

"ok, ow" leah held up her hands in surrender. "okay... okay yes, and before you yell at me, she really wanted it, and it's not that bad, and i figured better with me than some sketchy place with her mates in a few years—"

"that's is not the point, leah!" alessia huffed, rubbing her temples. "we were supposed to talk about things like this!"

you, ever the opportunist, chimed in. "mum, i did try to talk about it. but you said 'no.'"

"because you're fourteen!" alessia shot back, quickly.

leah winced. "technically, she's nearly fifteen..."

alessia turned to her with a glare that could have melted steel "do not start." so leah wisely shut up. not wanting to spend the night in the dog house.

alessia exhaled sharply before fixing you with a firm look. "you know you have to clean it properly, right? no touching it with dirty hands, no swimming for a while, no—"

you nodded enthusiastically. "i know! i did all my research, and the lady gave me a care leaflet!" you grinned taking the leaflet out from the pocket in your hoodie.

alessia crossed her arms. "oh yeah? and what about football? what's your plan for training? you think you can just run around like normal with that?"

leah nearly laughed—she could see the exact moment you realised you had been waiting for that question. because you, in all your determinations, stubborn glory, had prepared for this. prepared for every outcome.

"actually," you said, pushing your shoulders back, "i already checked. the lady said, i just have to cover it with a proper bandage during training, and i can't do contact drills for a couple of weeks. plus, i'll be extra careful, and if anything starts feeling weird, i promise you, i'll tell you straight away. and i won't touch it with dirty hands, and i'll clean it every night, and i definitely won't let any of the girls at training try to poke at it—"

leah watched as your mum's frustration wavered, giving way to reluctant acceptance. she knew her wife—knew that despite the initial anger, alessia was already moving past it.

finally, alessia sighed, shaking her head. "you two are a nightmare, you know that."

you grinned. "yeah but you love us." alessia huffed. "unfortunately."

leah slung an arm around her wife, pressing a kiss to her temple. "you'll forgive me eventually, yeah?"

alessia groaned but didn't pull away as the undeniable smile arose on her lips. "yeah, yeah. just wait until she asks for a tattoo."

leah paled. you, on the other hand, lit up.

"...oh, for fuck's sake."

481 notes · View notes

clarionglass · 1 year ago

Text

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine?

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait!

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him.

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs.

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look.

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace.

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign.

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm.

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity.

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor.

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief.

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling.

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!”

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him.

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage.

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps.

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break.

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope.

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still.

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall.

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed.

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw.

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

#game master #sam reich!master #doctor who #dw #dropout #game changer #you know what let's chuck some character tags in here #15th doctor #the master #sam reich #brennan lee mulligan #grant o'brien #kaylin mahoney #clari speaks #clari writes #ah darlings i'm putting my chat down here rather than in the post body for once #so i've thought of this whole saga as 'part three' but i will be a) titling them all and b) just keeping on numbering the parts sequentiall #rather than 'part three part one' etc #otherwise we're getting into homestuck act titling territory and that is ground i do not wish to tread #also fuck i hope i've got the time zones right #i'm planning to post this when an episode of game changer would ordinarily be released. to plug the gap. to tide us over.#(the finale trailer is so delightfully unhinged and i cannot wait til next week)#anyway gang this one was wild #the slight but significant genre shift from 'game changer with doctor who elements' to 'doctor who with game changer elements'#it was fun to write! and hopefully fun to read :)#also i MUST say that eugene northernfireart has a baller comic in the works that this entire thing is based on #this is thousands of words of setup and continuation because the sketch idea was so good it possessed me #and we decided that it had to be a proper dw episode #(hey rtd hire me pls)#anyway eugene is on hiatus bc of life so in the meantime go give him love and be Fuckin Hyped for the comic when it appears bc i know i am

2K notes · View notes

minchanfilm · 4 months ago

Note

hiii! could you make an imagine about maki getting jelous and confessing please? thank you so much ♥

MOMENTS OF SILENCE

maki &team jealousy confession

pairing jealousmaki!&team x reader

warnings smooching and like two swear words towards the end

notes wow my first imagine guys i’m growing up so fast🥹🥹all jokes aside tho im actually really nervous to publish this so if it sucks i am so sorry

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

growing up next door to maki, you guys were known as the duo. you both were inseparable—you did everything together.

when maki decided he wanted to become an idol, you were the most supportive out of everyone. you stuck by his side through the whole process, and it only made your friendship grow even more.

when he was officially in &team and they had their debut, you were always the first to know everything that was going on — even the things that weren’t supposed to be out to the public yet.

now, a few years after their debut, you not only became friends with his members, but they see you as family as well.

your friendship with maki has also grown, but so have your feelings for him. you can’t help but notice how well maki has been aging. his features are striking — everything about him is attractive.

also, after you stopped getting taller and settled on a height, he just seems to keep growing. he towers over you, which you can’t help but find it undeniably hot when he has to look/lean down to talk to you.

on the other hand, you had a massive glow up too. learning how to take care of your skin, hair, and upping your style, maki can’t deny finding you to be the most beautiful girl he’s seen.

you don’t know that though. both of your feelings for each other has always gone unspoken for. the lingering touches and the admiring glances between you two had always been brushed off, neither of you wanting to confess.

you had always been touchy with each other, never making it weird. that’s why, as you’re sitting abnormally close to maki — practically laying on him — none of his members find it unusual. he has one arm wrapped casually around your waist, trapping you in his hold. you scroll through your phone, watching tiktoks until harua makes his way towards you guys.

you look up, giving him a smile. you feel maki tighten his hold around you as harua places himself next to you on the couch.

“hey y/n, i found some new ideas for our handshake,” harua says. “since we can’t seem to settle on a good one.”

maki tenses up at the mention of a handshake. thats always been your guys’ thing. and as much as he hates to admit it, the thought of you having a handshake with someone else made him incredibly jealous.

“alright, show me what you came up with,” you smile. you try to shift to the side to get a better view, but maki’s tight grip around you makes you unable to move. “maki, could you loosen up a bit? i can’t move.”

“sorry,” he mutters, not tearing his eyes away from the phone in his hand. he lets go of you ever so slightly, just barely allowing you to turn your body.

you furrow your brows, confused as to why he seems annoyed. you just decide to brush it off, and refocus on harua.

harua shows you his ideas, some of them more complex than the others. after a few minutes of trying to master the complex ones, you eventually decide to settle on the easier movements.

maki watches you both out of the corner of his eye, wishing that it was him making you laugh like harua is.

and not to mention the way your hands are all over each other (peep the hand in handshake), he doesn’t want anyone else touching you other than himself.

he loves but hates the way that his members care for you so much. he misses the times when it was a little awkward between everyone, so he had your full attention all the time.

now, he only gets to talk to you a minimal amount when you’re in the studio with him because his members are always wanting to hang out with you.

your loud laugh snaps him out of his trance, and he sees you grab harua’s arm from laughing so hard.

he looks away, not wanting to get more annoyed. he notices that his jealousy level has been unusually high today, making him quieter than normal.

you also caught onto his quietness earlier in the day, and you just assumed he was having a rough morning.

you had no idea that he was pissed because you were giving other people more attention.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

after messing around with harua for another hour or so, everyone completed their daily duties, and decided to head out.

you wait for maki patiently by the door as you bundle up in your coat, preparing yourself to walk home in the cold weather.

after a minute, maki finds you by the door and he holds it open for you, allowing you to walk outside. you’re both silent, as maki’s jealously level hasn’t fallen since the handshake incident.

the tension in the air is too noticeable, and you glance at him as you both make your way down the snowy sidewalk.

“are you okay?” you finally speak up, clouds of smoke coming out of your mouth from how cold the air is.

he only nods.

you stay quiet for a minute, not knowing what to say.

“…did i do something?” you ask, your voice quiet.

“do you like harua?” he blurts out after a moment of silence.

“of course i like harua,” you respond, your voice laced with confusion. “why wouldn’t i?”

“no, not like that,” he shakes his head, keeping his gaze ahead of him. “i mean, do you like-like him.”

“oh- oh. no, maki,” you laugh, but immediately stop when you see that he doesn’t find this amusing. “i love harua, only as a friend. why are you asking?”

another moment of silence.

“you guys just seem.. close. that’s all,” he says, glancing at you for the first time since you left the studio. the glance is piercing, his eyes dark and features slightly tightened. his jaw is clenched, and he keeps his hands in his pockets.

reverting his eyes back to the gloomy and misty sidewalk in front of him, you shiver.

but not from the cold.

“are you jealous or something?” you slightly smile, still wondering why he would be questioning this.

when he doesn’t respond, you start laughing.

“oh my gosh, you are jealous!” you teasingly laugh. “maki, you’re literally my closest friend out of everyone i know. i don’t know why you think that i like harua more than you—“

“that’s not why i’m jealous,” he cuts you off, stopping in his tracks. you stop too, and you both turn to face each other.

“then why are you?”

he lets out a huff, looking everywhere but at you.

“because i like you, okay?”

silence overcomes the two of you again, for the hundredth time today.

“oh.” you’re not sure what to say.

“gosh, i’ve just—“ he pauses, looking around and running a stressed hand through his hair. “i began to like you ever since i told you i wanted to become an idol. you were so supportive of me, i just felt like you were the only person who truly cared for me.”

you reach your hand up in the middle of his speech, and run your fingers through his hair to brush the snowflakes out of it.

“i’ve been too scared to tell you, but seeing you all close with the other members just made me realize that i like having your attention maybe a little too much, and— can you stop that?” he swats at your hand that’s still brushing the snowflakes out.

you pull your hand away, “sorry. continue.”

but instead of continuing, he just stares at you.

silently.

the silence kills him.

“fuck it.”

he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you into him, crashing your lips together. your eyes widen in shock for a moment before they flutter shut as you melt into his touch.

maki lets go of your neck and moves his hands to wrap around your waist, not once breaking the kiss. you place a hand on his chest, and you let the other gently grab his jaw.

you can feel your heart pounding against your chest as the kiss deepens. his lips feel unbelievably soft, and the unusual warmth between the two of you — given that it’s barely even 20° — makes you never want to let go of each other.

you eventually have to though.

as you slowly pull apart, you rest your forehead against his, still holding onto his jaw. maki lets out a sigh of relief that he didn’t know he was holding.

“so…” you pull your head away from him, reluctantly letting go of his jaw.

“don’t even say anything,” he says, and as you pull away, you get a clear view of how flustered he is.

“alright, i won’t,” you shrug, feeling how red your cheeks are too.

you grab his hand, and resume your walk back home in a comfortable silence.

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motorsportbarbie13 · 5 months ago

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Aftermath - Chapter 1

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make something into nothing for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

Warnings: Lando is a dick in this. Small mention of not eating/losing weight but it's not discussed at length. angst. all. the. angst. Pairing: Max Verstappen x LeClercSister!Reader Word Count: 4.4k

(Also big giant huge thank you to @nitaekook for beta reading/editing/hyping this up and convincing me it was ready to be posted! ❤️❤️)

Master List

Falling out of love is exhausting. The way the silent negligence slowly chips away at the glossy veneer of gold plated faux happiness was soul crushingly agonizing. It wasn’t ever loud or raw or angry. No. It never spared you any emotion other than cool indifference. You could never quite figure out why the boy who had once warmed your entire life with his sunshine now refused to even glance your way.

It started slowly. So slowly that it took you a while to even realize what was happening. The way you lingered a little longer at the end of the day in the art studio. The way you stopped in front of the window of a real estate office, staring longingly at the listings of the pretty apartments that weren’t yours. The way you slowly slipped out of his life in a way that neither of you saw coming.

Everything changed the day you ran into your brother in a part of town neither of you usually frequent. Neither of you were supposed to be there that day, all the way across town from where you belonged.

After a third day in a row of being left on read and not even getting a phone call from Lando, despite him spending all night on Max Fewtrell’s stream playing Tarkov, you had gotten sick of waiting around the apartment. You were tired of waiting for just the littles crumb of attention from him, which he only seemed to give to you the moment you strayed a bit too far from him. You finally worked up the courage to leave your phone at home and go out without it, knowing that if he called and you didn’t answer you’d probably go another three days without so much as a text, just because he could. At this point though, you weren’t sure you even cared.

You changed into your favorite workout set and took a selfie before posting it to your stories (so he knew what you were doing. Lando loved watching your stories to make sure you were where you told him you were) and walked out the door.

The silence washed over you as you began your run, a sense of freedom coupled with a bit of anxiety settling in your bones as you turned down the street where your apartment was. You ran, leaving all of the stress of your three year relationship behind, without really knowing where you were going or what you would do when you were done. Part of you hoped Lando called you while you were out so he knew that you were flexing your wings a bit without him but you knew that would come with consequences. He’d ignore you, a punishment that he knew you hated but it was almost worth it. The potential punishment from him was almost worth knowing that you’d scare him into action.

Mile after mile, your sneakers hit the pavement at a steady pace, the rhythmic sound soothing your anxiety like a weighted blanket. Around you, the city buzzed with cars and people rushing around during the summer busy season. Expensive cars zipped by and tourists wandered down the sidewalks, sometimes making passing them difficult but you were used to the crowds of Monaco. You had grown up running these streets, first with your brother Charles and twin Arthur, trying to keep up with them as they trained for their respective racing seasons, but as you got older and Charles moved into the higher Formula series, your runs with him became fewer and far between until it was a rare occasion that you got the chance to train with him. Arthur was still regularly around, but you didn’t like training with him as much and he tended to be a little too chatty while working out where you preferred the silence of your thoughts.

You see your brother exit the apartment building ahead of you before he notices you heading towards him. His dark waves that match yours teased by the Mediterranean breeze as he turns around to speak to the man who follows him out of the building. Charles is everything a big brother should be and it kills you how much you have to lie to him about your relationship with Lando.

You slow down to a light jog as you approach, waiting patiently for Charles to notice you. When he does though, his entire face lights up. “Little Dove! What are you doing on this side of town?”

Something deep in your chest twists at the nickname Charles has called you your entire life. There’s something nostalgic about it, the way he calls you his little dove, the LeClerc Princess in a house full of boys, fluttering around like a little bird preening under the attention of the birds of prey.

He reaches for you, pulling you into a tight hug. You’ve been too busy lately, trying desperately to keep the weight of your failing relationship out of the harsh light of the public eye so you haven’t seen your brother as much as you’d like.

Falling out of love is exhausting.

Charles has noticed, of course. You’ve stopped coming to races like you used to when you were freshly with Lando or even when he was new in Formula One. You used to love races. The people, the sounds of the engines roaring around the track, seeing your brother do what he loves at the pinnacle of his sport. You used to drink it all in, obsessed with anything and everything racing. But then the world had tarnished when Lando started choosing racing over you. It was subtle at first, the way he would spend an extra night in Woking to spend time on the sim instead of coming home to your shared apartment. He’d go on trips with Max F, Keegan, and Ed but an invite was never extended to you. Even when he was home, he was always half there. Expecting you to wait around for when he was finally finished streaming. ‘But baby, it’s all work! I’m training for the season. And Max needs my help with the stream! The trips are for Quadrant!’ Excuses were always at the ready with Lando. So much so that you had stopped asking to be a priority.

When he was with you though it was different. When he finally got around to paying attention to you, he was the doting, loving Lando you had fallen for. He’d bring you breakfast in bed, cuddle with you late at night watching movies, surprising you with a last minute trip to somewhere tropical. Although, if you were being honest with yourself, these little surges of attention always came after a fight or an extended period of time that he had spent away from you. Almost like he was trying to sooth the guilt within himself instead of spending time with you.

Charles lets you out of his arms, looking down at you with sadness and hesitation in his gaze.

“I just needed to go for a run.” You say, avoiding the pointed look that Charles fixes on you. You didn’t really want to delve into the real reason for needing to get out of your own head with your brother’s real estate agent standing right next to him. It was only then when you realized just how far you’d come, the tall residential buildings unfamiliar at first glance. You hadn’t been on this side of town in ages but the complex that Charles had just come out of was instantly recognizable.

Your eyes flick over to the man standing beside Charles. You knew him well, a family friend who had helped Charles and Alex find their current apartment as well as the villa they had bought in Italy last year. “I could ask you the same thing. Are you and Alex planning on moving?”

“Not exactly.” Charles grins, momentarily willing to move on from the fact that you looked like you were ten seconds away from crying.

You tilt your head at him, waiting for an explanation.

“Units in this building rarely ever come on the market and Nick is trying to convince me it would be a good investment.”

“We’re lucky we even managed to get a showing.” Nick interjects as he runs a hand through his hair. “This building is beyond exclusive.”

You laugh, light and airy, while rolling your eyes. “Charles? The Prince of Monaco? Lucky to get a showing?” Mock shock colors your voice and for a flicker of a second, you feel normal again. “Nicholas, I’m surprised at you. Cha could bat those eyelashes of his at anyone in town and get whatever he asked for and you know it.”

Charles blushes but both of them know it’s true. Charles could ask for anything in this city and get it handed to him on a silver platter. More so now, after winning Monaco last year, finally breaking his home race curse.

He turns towards his friend. “Let them know I’m interested in making an offer, oui?”

Nick’s eyes light up and you can practically see the dollar signs spinning around in his head, no doubt trying to calculate the amount of commission he’d potentially earn from even the smallest unit in the building. “I’ll head back to the office and get the offer drawn up right now. Want to go in at asking?”

Charles nods, “That’s fine. I want to make sure I don’t miss out on this unit.” He eyes you then, suddenly coming up with an idea that might just solve a problem he’s been dealing with for the last three years. “Have you had lunch yet?”

Glancing at your watch, you’re surprised to see that nearly two hours has passed since you’d left the house. Somewhere in the back of your mind, a small voice wonders just how annoyed Lando is going to be that you left your phone at home.

You ignore it.

“No, I didn’t even realize how late it was. I guess I went a little time blind.” You sigh, not wanting to admit that you had skipped both breakfast and lunch the last few days. Your appetite while Lando was gone was next to nonexistent, the anxiety of being in the apartment without him too much for your body to handle.

“Let’s go get some food then.” Charles slips his arm around your waist, pulling you close. “It’s been too long since we’ve had a sibling lunch date, just the two of us.

Something warm blooms in your chest at his words. It had been a while since you’d seen your brother, since you’d seen any members of your family really. Between your work in the studio and Lando, you didn’t have much spare time on your hands.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” You murmur, allowing yourself to get swept away by your big brother.

“So tell me about work.” Charles implores as he leans forward on the white linen table cloth. “Don’t you have a new show coming up?”

You nod, taking a sip of water as your eyes dart over the menu of the small Italian restaurant Charles had chosen. At first you had protested, insisting that the white linen and heavy sterling silver flatware were much too fancy for you and your sweaty workout clothes but Charles had insisted. ‘Please. You are in Monaco, everyone here is rich enough to wear their grungy clothes without a care in the world.’ Had been his plea but you knew he had ulterior motives: the pasta at this little eatery was divine. So of course you had given in.

“I do. I’m still working on getting the theming right though, I haven’t been feeling very inspired lately. But the one in two weeks is nearly finished being installed.” Your thoughts flicker to your studio across town, where half a dozen partly completed paintings sit in various states of disarray almost mocking you whenever you walk in the door.

Like Charles, you were an artist at heart. Except where Charles chose music, you had always been drawn to paint. The thrill of prepping a new canvas, of planning out the idea and initial sketches, to finally, finally getting to put that first bit of color on an otherwise blank canvas. You never felt more at home than when you were seated in front of a canvas, alone in your studio.

Charles sees the opening he’s been waiting for, leaping on the opportunity like a stowaway in a boxcar train. “I’ve noticed you’ve been…” He pauses, knowing he has to choose his words carefully. “Not yourself lately and now it’s effecting your art? Little Dove, I am worried about you.”

Your heart aches at the sound of desperation in your brothers words. You hadn’t realized how out of control you’d allowed yourself to be. How desperate you’d become for just a shred of attention from Lando.

“I’m fine, Cha.” The lie slips off your tongue easier than you’d like.

Charles narrow his eyes because while Arthur may be your twin, Charles? Charles has always been your safe place. You had been the one who had kept him afloat after your father passed. Whenever there were fights over the cost of his’ racing career, you had always been his biggest advocate. If there was one person you trusted more in this world than Arthur, it was Charles.

And because Charles knows you like the back of his hand, he knows that you’re lying.

“He’s not good for you.” He hates saying the words, knowing that Lando is also a coworker and at one time, a friend. He may race for McLaren but Charles still had to spend a significant amount of time with him, especially over the last three years that you two had dated. But lately, something had changed in Lando. He wasn’t the same guy he had raced with in 2019. He was darker somehow, more withdrawn his usual crowd but up until now he had just chalked that up to Lando grown up and maturing.

“Don’t say that, Charles.” You whisper, voice pleading and thick. Your eyes drop to the plate of roasted chicken in front of you while the napkin twists in your fingers.

“If you want that apartment I just bought, it’s yours.” Your brother’s voice is desperate. “You can pay me rent if you want, I don’t care if you do but that place is yours if you want it.” The offer crashes over you like a giant swell of water breaking over your body.

It takes a moment for you to process what Charles just offered you. The apartment he just bought? In one of the most exclusive buildings in the city? He wants you to take it? You’re utterly stunned because while Charles has always been more than generous monetarily with his family, gifting you the multi million dollar apartment was bordering on crazy.

“Charles, I…” You stammer, utterly at a loss for words.

Charles shakes his head, “Don’t give me an answer now. Think about it, it’s going to take a few months to close the deal but, please my dove. Please think about it.”

Two Weeks Later

No matter how many shows your work was featured in, opening night always had you on edge. Your art was deeply personal to you and while you loved sharing it with the world, watching that first group of outsiders that had access to your work see it was always enough to fray the delicate edges of your nerves.

Charles hadn’t brought up his proposition any more after you had left the restaurant that day two weeks ago. He’d hopped on a jet the next day, needing to fly to a race half way across the world. Lando had left that next day too without barely more than a good-bye. He had seen your story on Instagram and had sent you several text messages while you had been with Charles, but beyond that he never even mentioned it. The quiet dismissal was even more painful than any anger he could have directed at you.

You hadn’t been invited to the race by Lando either, not that you would have been able to go. The opening for the gallery where your art was being featured was your priority so you hadn’t even bothered asking Lando if he wanted you there. You had already known the answer anyway.

When you left the apartment that evening, Lando was still playing Tarkov with Max on his stream. He said he still a while until the show started, why would he want to go with you to get there so early just to stand around and stare at a bunch of paintings? He swore up and down that he’d be there in an hour, just after he finished the next raid with Max and then kissed you absentmindedly on the cheek as you said good-bye.

He hadn’t missed a single shot on the screen.

The gallery is tucked away on a quiet street a few blocks from your apartment so instead of calling an Uber or asking Charles to pick you up, you decided to walk the short distance. The warm Monaco breeze teased at your hair as you slowly wandered down the sidewalk towards your destination alone.

The lights of the building spill out of windows in the setting Mediterranean sun, casting a warm light out onto the sidewalks. You’d shown your work in this gallery before and loved the owner, who had been one of your first supporters many years ago when your career was just getting started. The way the gallery was set up was ideal for the way your paintings demanded to be displayed and you knew that no matter what, the designers who were in charge of hanging your work would do it all justice.

In the large picture window out front hangs two of your favorite paintings that you’ve painted in a long time. You took a lot of inspiration from the impressionists: Monet, Degas, Renoir and these two were no exception. Lately though, your work had taken a bit of a dark turn with even the gallery owner making a comment on how moody and different your paintings had been lately. You were proud of them though, the bright slashes of color felt like your feelings laid bare on the stretched white canvas were a cathartic release of the stress and anxiety of your home life.

There are a few people milling about inside, mostly employees but a genuine smile, the first to flit across your face all day, spreads slowly when you spot your brothers walking down the sidewalk. Charles, Arthur, and Lorenzo all saunter towards you but you’re surprised at the fourth figure following your three siblings.

“Little Dove.” Charles calls when he’s within shouting distance and you walk towards the four men, bright smile fixed on your face. He folds you up into his arms, kissing your cheeks, before passing you over first to Arthur who gives you the same greeting before once again passing you over to Lorenzo.

The familiar chatter with your brothers is a soothing balm to the opening night jitters that are fluttering around in your chest but it’s the figure who stands quietly off to the side that intrigues you the most.

“Max, it’s so good to see you.” Stepping out of Lorenzo’s hold you walk straight into the Dutchman’s waiting arms. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“And miss the newest works of Monaco’s best artist?” His voice drips with incredulous teasing. “I could never.”

You know he’s teasing but the words carve themselves deep into your skin, the ache sitting in your chest, all bright and painful. Here you were, in another man’s arms while he praised your work while your boyfriend couldn’t have even bothered to leave the house at the same time as you.

Reluctantly, Max lets you step out of his arms and not for the first time that night, he takes your figure in. He swears you're thinner than you were last time, a thick cloud of anxiety and something darker hanging over your usually bright demeanor. It physically aches looking at you, how much you’ve changed in the last three years. Max has known you for as long as he’s known Charles and Arthur. When you were younger, you spent most of your time toddling along after your big brother so when he befriended the two brothers from Monaco, you had kind of been part of the package deal.

He has to resist the urge to rub at the ache in his chest, knowing that you’re with Lando and looking this miserable. You put on a good face though and Max knows that if he hadn’t been so familiar with every dip and plane of your face, he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

“Thank you for coming.” You murmur, allowing your eyes to linger on Max a beat longer than your brothers.

Lorenzo, ever the eldest brother, leads the group into the gallery, Max behind you and Arthur in front of you. You can feel the heat of his body radiating when he reaches around your shoulder to hold the door open for you from behind and turn your face upwards to give him a heart stopping smile. “Thank you.”

You excuse yourself to go find Nessa, the gallery’s owner, leaving your brothers and Max to their own devices while you make sure everything is set for the show.

Max plucks a flute of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray before he turns to Charles. “Want to take bets on if Lando shows?” He grumbles, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Charles does it for him though, muttering something that sounds a lot like ‘proper idiot’ under his breath.

Max nods and turns his attention to the paintings hanging on the wall. You’re not the only artist being featured tonight but your work is the most striking in the room and Max finds himself drawn to a large piece depicting a meadow tucked into a valley with a set of mountains in the background. The sky was what caught Max’s attention though. It was a riot of grays, blues, and shades of the deepest black. The storm was close to boiling over, gathering strength in the background as the foreground of the painting remained seemingly bathed in a golden sunlight.

The emotion that you had poured into this canvas practically shimmered off the surface and Max found himself with the most overwhelming desire to touch it.

“This is my favorite of all the pieces I did for tonight.” You murmur as you come to stand beside Max, who tries to hide the involuntary shiver that travels over his skin at the sound of your voice.

Max slides his eyes over to you without turning his head, almost as if he’s afraid that he’ll scare you away if he moves too fast. “It’s different from your other work.” He observes and your heart clenches.

Max’s thoughts flicker to the piece he purchased from you four years ago when he moved into his penthouse apartment. It was a piece as big as the one in front of him now, but the color scheme was markedly different. Where the piece in front of him was moody and stormy, the piece that hung in his living room was light and airy. He had seen a similar painting of the French countryside in your studio and had asked you to paint a similar but the Dutch tulip fields of his home country.

Normally, you didn’t take commissions. You were much too attached to your craft and the control you craved to give up such an important piece of your creative process. It was a policy that was a therapist’s dream.

You had broken your own rule for Max though. You had been powerless against those glacial blue eyes of his and without a second thought you had agreed to do as Max asked.

“Do you not like it?” You ask, surprising yourself with how much you care about what Max thinks.

He shakes his head before taking a sip of his champagne. He hadn’t been this close to you for this long in so long, he was almost afraid to move. “No, Dovie. That’s not what I was saying at all. I was just thinking of the one in my house and how different they are.”

You nod, eyes darting back up to your painting as you think of the tulip fields that was secretly your favorite piece of art you’d ever made. “I was a different person when I painted yours.” You say simply.

“And how is the person you are now?” Max’s voice is low as he leans into your bare shoulder just a fraction more than might be appropriate for someone who knows you have a boyfriend.

Chest tightening, the weight of having a boyfriend who is currently running forty five minutes late after promising to be there for you settles on your shoulders so heavily you think you may break. Your cheeks burn as you contemplate how to answer Max’s question. You desperately want to tell him you’re okay. To lie about how broken you feel while the man that you’re in love with misses another milestone in your life.

“I don’t know.” Emotion claws at your throat, threatening to pull you under right here in the middle of an art gallery.

Suddenly you turn away from Max, eyes scanning the room desperately looking for a familiar shock of mahogany colored hair. Max stares after you, eyes narrowed at your sudden departure. Your answer plays in his head as he watches you seemingly spot the person you’d been looking for. You start across the room, hoping your sense of determination lasts until you reach Charles.

“Are you okay?” Your brother looks past the man he’d been speaking to when he sees the desperation in your face.

“I…Charles, I…” You fumble for your words, mind still scrambling to figure out what your body’s plan was.

Charles steps around the man and grabs your elbow. “Take a breath, Little Dove.” He soothes. You follow his instructions and take a few steadying breaths, allowing the feeling of your brother’s hand sitting heavy at your elbow to ground you.

After a few moments you manage to find your voice. “When do you close on the new apartment?”

missleclerc posted:

57,029 likes liked by charlesleclerc, maxverstappen1, nessas_gallery and others missleclerc oh what a night <3 thank you to everyone who took time out of their busy schedules to spend an evening with me celebrating the new show. the pieces will be on display at @/nessas_gallery for the rest of the month!! charlesleclerc another successful opening, little dove! so proud of you >>>arthurleclerc yes, so proud! glad we were able to make it out to support you! >>>user028 the way her brothers are her biggest fans is just...ugh. so cute. >>>user000 and the little dove nickname!! i die. user122 no lando in the likes, comments OR pictures??? where you at bruh??? >>>user0200 did you see that gossip post?! he didn't even show up! >>>user122 ew. seriously???

f1_wag_gossip posted

35,291 likes f1_wag_gossip Lando's girlfriend (also Charles LeClerc's little sister) @/missleclerc’s art was on display at an art gallery opening this Friday night in Monaco but one person was notably missing: Lando Norris himself. Sources snapped photos inside of Miss LeClerc laughing with none other than Max Verstappen before leaving the gallery later in the evening with her brothers and Max in tow. Several people tell me that she looked very upset after the show. Max even had his arm around her as she swiped at tears while waiting for Arthur's car to be brought around. Is there trouble in paradise for the artist and her longtime pilot boyfriend??? user222 he was on Max F's stream for HOURS Friday night. He chose playing Tarkov over going to his girlfriend's art show??? user122 If Max Verstappen, the man that had to have a CURFEW imposed on him by his own team because he stayed up too late playing video games, can put the controller down for one night to attend a FRIENDS art show, surely the poor girls own boyfriend could have done the same??? >>>user222 seriously. tf were you thinking @/Lando??? user988 gross behavior. idk why she's still with him user2237 I wonder how many other events of hers he's ruined?

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