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endzithefangirl · 10 months ago

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"I'm gong to put 'being a WAG' on my CV"

Authors note: Here's a little Max Verstappen x TechCEO!Reader. Bet you didn't see that comng. Anyway, got the idea for this a few days ago, and I guess my love of Italian food made me finish this

Summary: Max's new relatioship causes a social media stir, but the new couple couldn't care less whilst in Italy.

Warnings: English isn't my first language, no use of Y/N, female reader, famous reader

Word count: 2k

You understood it, to a degree. Max had just broken off a three-year-long relationship right before summer break, and now suddenly he was spending the summer with you. Now you’re at the paddock... No wonder people thought there was some crossover.

The truth? You two met last New Year's at a party for some sporting event. You, being one of the sponsors for your country's national sports committee, were invited, and Max... well, Max was Max Verstappen. You hit it off, exchanged numbers, showed him around your company a few times, and took him to all of your favorite restaurants in NYC. But you knew he had a girlfriend; everyone knew. And he was taking care of her kid too.

That breakup was hard on him. He had stopped loving her, but he couldn't just kick a woman and her kid out of his house. Max waited for them to have a huge fight, and then they just... broke up. And to your surprise, he was in New York the next day, saying that he needed someone to talk to. Bullshit. You knew he liked you. Otherwise, he wouldn't have come all the way here 'just to talk.'

But here you were, in Italy, spending time with him before Monza. You were currently typing away on your phone, trying to make peace in the finance department. Max glanced up from his phone every so often, stealing peeks at you while grinning.

He had never quite been so into someone like you. You were smart, funny, talented, pretty, and on top of all that - you were also rich. But you were also the most challenging girl to flirt with Max had ever met.

"You look like you could use a break," he said, after watching you tap away at your work laptop for a few minutes.

"Probably. What's the point of having interns if they don't do anything?"

"Then you should consider hiring me; I'm pretty good at helping out," Max teased, looking up from his phone and sending you a cheeky smile. He loved a woman who was in power, who knew what she was doing, and he could tell you were used to being the boss. "Come on, take a break. You know you deserve it," Max encouraged, resting his hand on top of yours to stop you from working some more.

"I guess I could eat…" You say, closing your laptop. "I saw on Google Maps that there’s a nice pizza place down the road. We can go if you’re hungry.”

Max smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’m starving; let’s go,” he said, reaching for the car keys.

“No, it’s okay, let’s walk,” you stop him. He turned towards you, slightly confused. Usually, women would give anything to drive around with Max Verstappen. Maybe that’s just what makes you special.

The two of you walked out of the hotel, your bodyguard Lenny standing outside the door. The tall, muscular man just nodded as the two of you entered the elevator. Max found it funny that you preferred Lenny guard your stuff more than you. Especially the laptop. He sometimes wondered what you kept in there...

“Is Pierre gonna be at the race?” you asked as you exited the building, breaking the silence.

Max’s head snapped towards you, and he raised his brow. “Uh, yes, of course he is… Why?”

“Because I want to see Kika.”

“Oh, so she’s your secret F1 crush, eh?” Max said, relaxing.

You laughed. “Pierre is a solid seven with a better haircut. Kika is a twelve on a bad day.”

As you got to the bigger streets, you started to understand why Max drove everywhere. Unlike you, who were a chiller and niche celebrity, despite being incredibly rich, Max was a real superstar. Your short walk to the pizza shop became a fan meet and greet, with people coming up to you every three seconds and asking for photos.

“Is this your girlfriend?” one of the people asking for a picture asked. As you finished taking the photo, you noticed Max’s slightly flustered face as he heard the question. He stumbled, but you answered with a simple “Yeah.”

As you arrived at the restaurant, you noticed that Max was staring at you. He seemed… surprised. You laughed at his facial expression. The sound of your laugh calmed him instantly, his heartbeat beginning to return to normal. Max cursed himself in his head; he was better than this. He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Is it something I said?"

Max ran a hand through his hair, feeling his cheeks heating up slightly. "No, no... Not really," he reassured you, trying to sound casual. "I was just... thinking."

"Okay, well I'm thinking about the food. I think a Vesuvius sounds great right now."

Max chuckled and quickly glanced down at the menu to hide his embarrassment. "Vesuvius? What the hell is a Vesuvius?" he asked, though his eyes scanned down the menu, searching for it.

"It's a type of pizza," you teased. "It's been like three minutes; have you not even skimmed the menu?"

Max fidgeted under your gaze, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks again. "What?" he asked with a nervous chuckle. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You tell me. Why are you staring?" Max shook his head, glancing up at you questioningly. He had no idea what you were thinking about. "No... What are you thinking about?" he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"There are pots from 4000 years ago found in ancient Egypt that are made out of an incredibly difficult to manage material and are cut to such perfection that they balance on their round bottom."

Max's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He was expecting something totally different. Something that had at least a little bit to do with him. He chuckled, still somewhat surprised as he studied your face. "Where did that come from?" he asked incredulously.

"The Egyptians. They were like, cooking pots and stuff. Royal cooking pots probably, but still," you teased.

Max chuckled again, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're thinking about cooking pots, and here I am, just trying to figure out what I did to make you say that we're together so casually."

"What do you mean? Are we not together?"

"Well, of course we're together," Max said, his voice taking on a more serious tone now. He glanced around the restaurant briefly, making sure no one was listening in on their conversation. "I just... I didn't expect you to say it so casually," he said, his eyes meeting yours again.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't know we were keeping it a secret. I mean, I was at the paddock and all last time, and I took days off work to come to this race—"

Max shook his head, realizing you completely misunderstood what he was saying. "No, no, it's not that... I just..." he began, struggling to find the right words. He took a deep breath, his fingers fidgeting in his lap. "It's just... you're so casual about it... and I'm... a bit too flustered for my own good," he admitted, a tinge of embarrassment in his voice.

You softened up a bit. "Oh, okay, I get it. It was just a bit too shocking for you... Yeah, sorry."

Max felt his heartbeat a little faster when you softened, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, it was a bit... unexpected for me," he chuckled, feeling somewhat silly for being so flustered. "But it's fine, honestly."

"Do you think my stomach is gonna have space for gelato later? There's a really good gelateria; I can see it from the window... They make the ones with the macarons..."

Max chuckled, loving how you were so excited about the gelato. "Well, based on the amount of pizza you usually eat," he teased, a smirk on his face. "I'd say you're probably fine."

"No, they put the macarons on the gelato."

"On the gelato?" Max repeated, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"I've never heard of such a thing," he said, leaning forward to get a better look out the window at the gelateria you were talking about. "Well, in that case," he said with a grin, "we're definitely going there for dessert."

After eating so much that your belts barely held, you came back to the hotel, Lenny greeting you at the door as usual. Max's stomach was stuffed to the brim, but he was in such a good mood from the good food and even better company, he didn't even care. He walked back into the hotel together with you, his hand still holding yours. Lenny greeted the two of you as usual, but Max couldn't help but notice the way Lenny looked at you, like he was analyzing you.

"All good, Len. You go to your room for the night," you said to Lenny. He nodded, smiled at the both of you, and then went off. Max watched as Lenny walked off, then turned to you, a small frown on his face.

"He was looking at you funny," he said, a protective edge to his voice.

"He thinks it's funny. That I'm dating a Formula 1 driver."

"What's so funny about that?" he protested, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. "He just... I don't know, he's a big fan of yours I don't think he's processed it yet". Max's frown relaxed as you explained it, his ego immediately soothed a bit. Of course he was a big fan of his, who wasn't?

"Oh, so he's a big fan?" he teased, a hint of pride and cockiness in his voice.

You take your shoes off and lay on the bed, your stomach bloated from all the good food "Yeah. Talk to him a bit, I think it'll make him happy" You let out groan as you move "I hate you Italy. You has so much good food... I love it though"

Max chuckled, watching as you dramatically threw yourself onto the bed, your stomach protesting the amount of food you just had. "You're such a drama queen sometimes," he teased, grinning as he took off his shoes as well and joined you on the bed. He lays down beside you, running a hand over your bloated stomach. "You'll be fine," he said, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, you know what I saw on TikTok?"

Max raised an eyebrow in curiosity, his hand now resting on your stomach. He didn't typically pay too much attention to TikTok, but he was more than happy to listen to you.

"What did you see?" he asked, turning his head to look at you.

"Well first of all, I'm a WAG now. Thank you for that, I will be putting that on my CV. But second, they liked that I was wearing Red Bull merch. I thought they wouldn't like it, but they did"

Max chuckled as you spoke, amused by how casually you mentioned being a WAG, and how seriously you were taking the fact that you were wearing Red Bull merchandise. "Well, of course they liked it," he said with a smirk. "You were wearing the merch of the best team out there."

He gave you a smug look, his hand moving up and tracing a lazy pattern on your stomach. "Not to mention the merch of the best driver out there."

#max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x reader #f1 #formula 1

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lifeisbutadream444 · 3 months ago

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Do It Scared.

Aaron Pierre x Reader

Summary: Aaron left your shared apartment in New York three months ago to film the biggest movie of his career, and every day since, the distance between you has grown. When photos surface of him looking a little too comfortable with an actress at an event, you hit your breaking point and decide to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Warnings: smut

Note: Partially inspired by a Terry fic I read on here recently. Link at the end <3

Word Count: 8.5k

The silence in your apartment feels heavier these days.

It used to be filled with his voice—his deep, warm laugh echoing through the space, his teasing remarks as he stole bites of whatever you were cooking.

But now, it’s just you. Just the quiet hum of the city outside your window, the occasional vibration of your phone lighting up with a text that never seems to be from him.

Aaron has been in L.A. for three months now, filming the biggest project of his career. A high-budget action film that is officially making him a "household name" in Hollywood according to the press.

And you? You’re still here in New York. Still in your shared apartment, still going through the motions of your life as an interior designer, still waiting for some sign that you belong in his world now.

You’ve supported him through everything—the auditions, the rejections, the near-misses. You were there when he was barely making rent, when he was working odd jobs between gigs, when he questioned if this dream was even worth it.

Now he’s finally getting everything he ever wanted.

And you’re not sure where that leaves you.

You don’t want to be that girlfriend. The one who demands answers, who needs reassurances, who can’t handle a little distance. But this feels different.

You thought he’d at least ask you to visit him by now. Thought he’d tell you he missed you so much that he couldn’t take another night apart.

Instead, he’s been busier than ever, responding to your texts hours later and giving you clipped responses during your phone calls.

You understood that he was under an immense amount of pressure, trying to carry a film on his back for the first time in his career. You tried your best to not add to his stress by not complaining about any of it.

Your phone vibrates on the kitchen counter, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Aaron.

You let it ring twice before answering, not wanting to seem like you were waiting for it. You know it’s silly this far into your relationship, but you do it anyway.

“Hey,” you say, keeping your voice light.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice rich, deep—but tired. He always sounds tired when he calls now. “What are you doing?”

You glance around the kitchen, where your laptop is still open from the project you were reviewing. “Trying to be a responsible adult. What about you?”

Aaron exhales a small laugh. “Trying to not lose my mind, memorizing all these lines.”

You smile despite yourself. “How was set today?” you ask.

“Long,” he sighs. “Good, though. Just… a lot.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and you don’t press. He never used to be like this. Before, he would tell you everything—the directors he liked, the actors who annoyed him, the lines he struggled with.

Now, it’s just good, though.

“What’s new in the life of America’s Newest Obsession?” you ask, holding up a copy of GQ with his face on it. You couldn’t resist buying it when you came across it at CVS earlier that day.

Aaron groans, covering his face with his hand. “Don’t start.”

“What? You’re the one out there in L.A. making the whole world fall in love with you.”

There’s a beat of silence, then—softer—“Only care about one person being in love with me.”

“Smooth,” you murmur, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips.

“I try.” he teases.

You shake your head. God, you miss him. But you don’t say that, either. Instead, you exhale, glancing at the time. It’s late for him, even with the three hour time difference. His call time is usually 5:00 am.

“You should get some sleep,” you murmur.

Aaron hesitates. “You trying to get rid of me?”

You chuckle. “Just trying to keep you on track as always.”

A beat. Then—“I miss you.”

Your fingers tighten around the phone. You know he means it. But missing someone and making sure they don’t feel forgotten aren’t the same thing.

“I miss you too,” you admit softly.

Another pause. This one longer.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Aaron murmurs.

You nod, secretly wishing he would ask you to stay on the phone or tell you more about his day. “Okay.”

And then, just like that, the call ends.

You set your phone down on the counter, staring at it for a long moment.

Waiting for the heaviness in your chest to pass.

It doesn’t.

--------

You knew this would happen eventually.

Aaron has always been desirable. He’s talented, charming, and now—famous. The kind of famous that has the internet scrutinizing his every move, every glance, every woman he so much as breathes near.

You’re sitting on your couch, wine glass untouched, staring at the screen.

It’s everywhere.

Aaron, seated next to Emilia Stark at an award show.

She’s beautiful. Confident in a way that commands attention. They’re leaning in close, talking, laughing, her hand resting lightly on his arm. The cameras captured it all.

The headlines are already writing the love story for them:

"Hollywood’s Next Power Couple?"

"Aaron Pierre and Emilia Stark Spark Dating Rumors at Award Show."

Your stomach twists as you scroll through the comments, knowing you shouldn’t, knowing you’re going to hate every word.

You close the app, but it doesn’t stop the thoughts from spiraling.

You’re his woman. Have been for four years. But no one knows that.

Because Aaron wanted privacy. Because you both agreed it wasn’t the world’s business. Because he didn’t want everyone scrutinizing your every move.

But now, with the world watching, you wonder if privacy was just another way to keep you out of his new life.

Aaron doesn’t call that night.

He always calls.

Even when he’s exhausted, even when he’s jet-lagged, even when he’s drunk from whatever post-event party he’s forced to attend. He always finds time for you.

But tonight? Nothing.

You stare at your phone, the screen dark, taunting.

Your stomach is in knots, your mind looping through the possibilities like a film reel stuck on repeat. Did he talk to her all night? Did he think about calling you and decide against it? Did he take her home? Did he notice the internet already crowning her his queen and think—

You squeeze your eyes shut, banishing the thought before it can finish forming.

You shouldn’t feel this way, but you do.

------

The next morning, you wake up to the sound of your phone buzzing against the nightstand.

You scramble for it, heart hammering against your ribs when you see his name on the screen.

Aaron.

You hesitate—just for a second—before answering.

“Hello?” Your voice is steady, but your fingers grip the phone tight, waiting.

He exhales, slow and groggy. “Hey, baby.”

Baby. The word should soothe you. But it only makes you feel sick.

Because he says it like nothing happened. Like the whole world didn’t spend the last twelve hours pairing him up with someone else. Like he didn’t go radio silent on you for the first time in years.

You swallow, your voice even. “Hey.”

There’s a pause, long enough for your chest to tighten.

Aaron sighs, his voice laced with exhaustion. “Didn’t mean to disappear last night. Got home late, crashed right after.”

That’s it. That’s all he says. No mention of the photos. No mention of her.

Your fingers tighten around the phone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, like it’s just another day. “You good?”

Am I good?

The words sit heavy in your throat.

You could say yes. Pretend you didn’t see. Pretend you’re not questioning every single thing. Pretend you’re not wondering if he was out all night with someone else.

But you can’t.

You sit up in bed, your free hand pressing against your temple. “I saw the pictures.”

The line goes dead silent.

And just like that, your entire body tenses.

“I figured you would.”

Your stomach drops.

That’s it? No denial, no immediate reassurance, no baby, it’s nothing.

Just I figured you would.

You exhale sharply, swinging your legs out of bed, your heart pounding against your ribs. “And you weren’t going to bring it up?”

“I—” Aaron sighs, slow and measured. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

A bitter laugh pushes past your lips before you can stop it. “Oh, it doesn’t matter?” You shake your head, pressing your palm against your temple. “Well the entire fucking internet thinks you two are Hollywood’s new power couple, and I can’t even blame them with the way you’re whispering in her ear and letting her put her hands all over you.”

Aaron groans. “Come on, it’s not like that.”

You push up from the bed, pacing the length of your bedroom. “Then what is it like, Aaron?”

“Jesus.” His voice drops lower, frustrated now. “It’s a fucking seating arrangement. She was next to me, we talked, cameras flashed. That’s all.”

You clench your jaw. “You definitely seemed to be enjoying yourself with her.”

He exhales, like he’s struggling to stay patient. “I was being polite. What was I supposed to? Just ignore her while she's trying to speak to me? It’s not that deep.”

You scoff. “Right. Gotta keep her comfortable. Wouldn’t want to be rude.”

Aaron exhales sharply. “Are you serious right now?”

Your jaw tightens. “Forget it.”

“No, really.” His voice is sharper, cutting through the phone. “You think I’m—what? Cheating on you?”

You exhale, voice light, careless. “Aaron, I said forget it. You’re a grown man, do what you want.”

Aaron exhales sharply. “Come on, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like this suddenly isn’t bothering you. I’m trying to talk to you.”

You tilt your head. “You’re right. I was annoyed. And then I realized how stupid it was to waste my energy worrying about things I can’t control.”

Aaron scoffs, his frustration bleeding through. “That’s a real poetic way to say ‘I don’t trust you.’”

You smile tightly, even though he can’t see it. “I trust you to do whatever you want to do.”

Aaron lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Wow. Got it.”

There’s a long pause.

Then, quieter, almost like a plea—“I need you to talk to me, baby.”

Your throat tightens, but you force your voice to stay light. “I am talking.”

“No, you’re shutting me out.” His voice is strained, low. “You do this every time.”

You swallow hard, keeping your expression neutral, even though there’s no one in the room to see it. “Aaron, I promise you—I’m fine. Seriously. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Another silence. This one feels heavy. Frustrated.

Then, voice tighter now—“Fine.”

“Good.”

A pause. Then—“Are we good?”

You hesitate.

Then, carefully— “We’re good. Have a great day.”

Aaron exhales, like he doesn’t believe you. Like he knows you’re just saying what you think you’re supposed to say.

You hear him shift on the other end of the line, like he wants to say more, but you don’t give him the chance.

“I’ll talk to you later,” you say, already pulling the phone from your ear.

Aaron exhales sharply, but before he can respond, you hang up.

---------

You know it’s toxic. You know.

But desperation makes you reckless.

You don’t trust words—you never have. Promises are just sounds strung together, and you learned a long time ago that actions hold all the weight. And Aaron? He hasn’t done anything to prove you’re still the woman he’d go to war for.

So tonight, you need to know.

You put on the shortest dress you own, something sleek and black that hugs every curve just right, and when you step into the club with your friends, you make sure to look happy. Carefree. Like nothing in the world is eating at you.

The second you walk in, the music vibrates through your bones. Your friends lead you to the VIP section, and within minutes, drinks are flowing, bodies are moving, and the night is alive with laughter.

You pose for group pictures with your friends and some of their male friends. Nothing explicit, nothing outright disrespectful, but just enough. Enough for someone to wonder. Enough for Aaron to see.

You don’t post them yourself. That would be too obvious.

Instead, you make sure your friends do, knowing damn well that Aaron—or someone who knows him—will find them.

And then?

You wait.

You sip your drink, lean into the music, and try to ignore the way your stomach churns with nerves. Because if this backfires, if Aaron doesn’t react at all—

That will tell you everything you need to know.

*One Hour Later*

Your phone vibrates against your thigh.

You knew it was coming.

Still, when you glance down and see Aaron’s name lighting up your screen, a sick sort of satisfaction curls through your chest.

You don’t answer.

He calls again.

Then again.

Then—

Text message after text message.

Aaron: Where the fuck are you? Aaron: Who are these fucking guys? Aaron: You think this is funny? Aaron: Answer your phone.

You hesitate, thumb hovering over the keyboard. He’s pissed.

But that’s exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?

You: No thanks. You: Have a great night :)

You lock your phone before he can respond.

Then, you take another sip of your drink, letting the fire burn all the way down.

Your phone vibrates again. Another call.

Aaron’s name glares up at you like a warning.

You let it ring.

Your best friend, Camille, leans in, eyes flicking toward your still-ringing phone. “Are you gonna answer?”

You scoff. “Nope.”

“Seriously, though,” Camille presses. “What’s your endgame here?”

You open your mouth to respond, but your phone dings again—a text.

Aaron: Pick up the fucking phone.

Your stomach clenches.

Camille lets out a low whistle. “Damn. He’s mad mad.”

You roll your eyes, feigning nonchalance. “He’ll get over it.”

Another text comes through.

Aaron: You want my attention, sweetheart? You’ve got it.

Your breath hitches.

Then—one more.

Aaron: Let’s see how you feel when I give you a taste of your own medicine.

Your grip tightens around your phone.

Shit.

Your phone buzzes again. Aaron.

You swipe to accept the call, pressing a finger to your other ear to hear better over the pounding club music.

“You think this is funny?” His voice is low, sharp.

You blink, acting confused. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb,” he mutters. “You’re out at a club, with a bunch of guys around you, drinking, posting shit all over the internet—”

You roll your eyes. “Are you serious? I'm out with my friends for the first time in months. That’s not a crime.”

A harsh exhale. “You didn’t tell me.”

Your brows knit together. “Since when do I have to?”

Aaron lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Since I’m your boyfriend.”

You pause. Your stomach clenches at the word. He’s never been the type to throw that around like a trump card.

“So let me get this straight,” you say, voice cold now. “You can be at all these events and parties every week, surrounded by famous women in gowns, but I can’t go to a club with my friends?”

“That’s different,” he finally says.

You scoff. “How?”

“I don’t go to clubs,” he snaps. “I don’t get drunk out of my mind. I go to work events that I'm contractually obligated to attend. There’s a difference.”

You bite your lip. Because that part is true. You’ve never seen Aaron out at clubs. But who would have the energy to go clubbing after the lineup of events he attends every week?

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” you say. “Those are Camille’s friends, they’re just at the table next to ours.”

Aaron exhales sharply. “I’m sending you a car.”

Your breath catches.

“What?”

“A car,” he repeats, voice tight. “An Uber. A driver. Whatever the fuck you want. Just go home.”

You blink. “Aaron—”

“I mean it,” he says roughly. “I don’t want you there anymore.”

You feel a flicker of irritation. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

His voice is deadly quiet. “No, but I can tell you that I don’t like this. And I know you don’t either.”

You hesitate. Because he’s right. You don’t even want to be here anymore.

Aaron exhales. “Go home, baby.” His voice is softer now, more like himself. “Please.”

Your throat tightens.

You don’t say anything for a long moment.

Then, finally—

“Fine.”

A slow, relieved exhale. “Good girl.”

And with that, he hangs up.

-------

You curl into yourself under the covers, your phone screen still glowing in the dark.

Aaron: Your driver’s outside. Let me know when you’re home.

You never responded.

Now, lying in bed, staring at your ceiling, your chest feels tight, like something is pressing down on it. You hate this. Hate that you feel like you’re losing him.

You squeeze your eyes shut. You won’t cry again.

But then your phone vibrates. The screen lights up.

A FaceTime call.

Aaron. Shocker.

Your fingers hover over the screen, your heart pounding. Then, before you can second-guess yourself, you answer.

Aaron’s face fills the screen. He’s leaning against the headboard, one arm resting on his knee, his expression unreadable. But the moment he sees you, his brows pull together.

"You been crying?"

Your stomach clenches. You hate how well he reads you.

You let out a small scoff, rolling onto your side. "What? No."

Aaron exhales, tilting his head, studying you through the screen. His jaw is tight, his blue-gray eyes sharp and searching.

"You’re lying," he murmurs.

You force a small smile. "I’m just tired."

His lips part slightly, like he wants to push, but instead, he sighs.

"You didn’t text me when you got home," he says.

You shrug. "I forgot."

He doesn’t believe you. You can tell by the way his fingers twitch where they rest on his knee, the way his jaw tenses like he’s biting back a hundred things he wants to say.

Aaron licks his lips, sighing. "You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?"

You keep your face neutral. "Likewise."

Aaron chuckles softly, shaking his head. Then, after a moment—

"What’s going on with you?"

Your breath catches. "Nothing."

His voice is rough now, insistent. "I can tell when something’s wrong. So tell me."

You chew your lip, staring at the screen, at the way his eyes are burning into you. "I just—" You hesitate. "I don’t know."

"Try," he presses.

You swallow hard. "I just feel… weird lately."

Aaron exhales. "Weird how?"

You don’t know how to answer that.

Weird because he’s suddenly everywhere. Weird because for the first time in years, he feels just out of reach. Weird because maybe he was never really yours to lose, and that realization is eating you alive.

Instead, you just shake your head. "I don't know."

His voice is sharper now, more impatient. "You always make me pry everything out of you."

Your throat tightens. "I don’t—"

His voice is insistent. "You’re clearly upset. And I don’t know why. And you’re not gonna sleep tonight if you don’t say it out loud, so—say it."

You shake your head. "Aaron—"

"Say it."

You swallow, staring at him through the screen. He’s watching you carefully, waiting, giving you that look that always makes you fold.

Your chest tightens.

"I just feel like we're drifting apart."

The words slip out before you can stop them.

Aaron stills. His expression doesn’t change, but something shifts behind his eyes.

"You’re in LA," you continue, voice barely above a whisper. "You’re at these big events, with these big names, and I’m here—alone. And it just..." You exhale sharply. "It feels like you’re leaving me behind."

Aaron’s jaw tenses. His fingers twitch slightly where they rest on his knee.

Aaron exhales, rubbing his temples. "Baby..."

"I see the pictures, Aaron," you cut in. "I see how good you fit in there. And I just…" You blink rapidly, fighting the burn in your eyes. "I don’t know if I fit in your life anymore."

Aaron’s face hardens. "Don’t say that."

"But it’s true," you murmur, swallowing the lump in your throat. "And it scares me."

Aaron’s expression softens, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "Then come here."

Your breath catches.

"What?"

"Come to LA," he says simply.

You stare at him through the screen, your pulse hammering in your ears.

"Aaron…"

"You don’t have to decide to stay right away," he presses, voice rough. "Just come. Let me prove to you that you belong with me, no matter where the fuck I am."

Your throat tightens. "No."

Aaron’s brows furrow. "No?"

You shake your head. "You’re only asking me because you feel bad."

Aaron’s jaw clenches. "That’s not—"

"It is," you say, voice quieter now. "If I hadn’t said anything, you wouldn’t have asked. And I—" You exhale sharply. "I don’t wanna come because you pity me, Aaron. I wanna come because you want me there."

Aaron’s eyes darken,"You think I don’t want you here?"

You don’t answer.

Aaron swallows, staring at you for a long moment. Then, voice raw—

"I fucking hate that you feel like this."

You inhale shakily.

Aaron leans in slightly, his face inches from the screen. "You think I fit in here? You think I want to be at these parties, talking to people I don’t give a fuck about?" He exhales sharply. "I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner."

Aaron studies you, his eyes scanning your face. Then, voice softer, "Just tell me what you need. from me."

You swallow hard. "I don’t know."

Aaron exhales, running a hand through his hair. "Okay."

Silence.

Then, after a long pause, his voice barely above a whisper—

"I love you."

Your breath catches.

"I love you, and I’m not leaving you behind," he murmurs. "You belong with me. Always."

Your throat tightens, your vision blurring.

You bite your lip, nodding slightly. "I love you too."

Silence stretches between you as you drift off to sleep.

And for the first time in weeks—you finally feel like you’re not alone.

--------

The next day, your phone buzzes with a text while you're trying to sleep your hangover off.

You groan, blindly reaching for it, already knowing who it is.

Aaron: Check your email.

You swipe out of your messages, opening your inbox. A new email sits at the top of your screen.

You click it, eyes scanning over the subject line.

A flight itinerary.

Your stomach drops.

You scroll, scanning the details—first class, a direct flight to LA, departing tonight at 7 PM.

You barely have time to process before your phone buzzes again.

Aaron: Pack a bag.

Your pulse spikes.

You type quickly.

Me: Are you insane?

His response is immediate.

Aaron: Sometimes.

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Me: You really think this is gonna work?

Aaron: Yes.

You shake your head.

Me: What part of “I don’t want to come just because you feel bad” are you not understanding?

Aaron’s typing bubble pops up, then disappears, then pops up again.

Then, finally—

Aaron: If I wanted you here just because I felt bad, I would've just accepted your answer last night.

Your hands shake slightly as you type.

Me: This is crazy.

Aaron: So is pretending we’re fine like this.

You swallow hard.

Aaron: Baby.

Your heart stutters.

Aaron: Please.

Your throat tightens.

You don’t respond.

But you do start to pack.

You could keep fighting this. You could tell him you’re not ready, that you need time, that he needs to earn this.

But then what?

You’d go to bed alone again, your phone face-down on your nightstand, staring at the ceiling, missing him so much it feels like a physical ache in your chest.

And for what?

For pride?

For the illusion of control?

Aaron is home. And the truth is—you just want to go home, too.

-------

LAX – 11:42 PM

You step through the terminal, nerves buzzing under your skin.

Aaron told you he’d send a car. Told you to text when you landed.

But standing here, scanning the crowd—

He’s here.

No car. No driver. Just him.

Black hoodie pulled over his head, hands stuffed in his pockets, leaning against a pillar like he doesn’t have a single care in the world.

Your breath catches, heart hammering against your ribs as his gaze locks onto yours.

He pushes off the pillar, walking toward you—slow, easy, certain.

"Hey, baby," he murmurs when he reaches you, voice low and warm.

You swallow hard. "Hey."

Aaron tilts his head, eyes sweeping over you. "Missed you."

You scoff, shifting your weight. "Yeah, well. You’re annoying."

His lips twitch. "So are you."

You roll your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you.

Aaron steps closer, voice dropping. "You know what I think?"

You raise a brow. "Do I want to?"

He smirks. "I think you got on that plane because you couldn’t stand another night without me."

You cross your arms. "I think you should shut up before I get back on another plane."

Aaron chuckles, shaking his head. Then, softer—"Let’s go."

Your chest tightens, the fight in you crumbling piece by piece.

He reaches for your bag, pulling it off your shoulder before you can argue.

You should protest. You should roll your eyes and tell him to quit being so smug.

Instead, you let him take your bag.

And you let him take you home.

The ride to Aaron’s Airbnb is quiet, but the air is thick—heavy with something unspoken.

Your body is still tense, your mind still reeling. The past twenty-four hours have been a whirlwind of emotions. Aaron unlocks the door, stepping inside first, flicking on a few lights.

You hesitate.

This is his space. You’ve never been here before. The place he’s been living while you’ve been in New York, wondering if you even still fit into his life.

Aaron turns around, eyes catching yours. His brow furrows slightly, reading you instantly.

He steps forward, his voice softer now. "Come here."

You don’t move.

So he closes the space himself.

One hand reaches for your wrist, his grip firm but gentle as he pulls you inside, closing the door behind you.

And then, before you can say a single word—

His hands cup your face, his lips crashing onto yours.

Finally.

You gasp into his mouth, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he devours you, like he’s been waiting for this for months.

Aaron presses you back against the door, his body solid and warm against yours, his grip possessive as his fingers tangle in your hair.

"You have no idea," he murmurs against your lips, voice rough, needy, "how much I fucking missed you."

His mouth trails down your jaw, his breath hot, sending a violent shiver through you.

"You could’ve just asked me to come," you manage, barely above a whisper.

Aaron huffs a quiet laugh, pressing a kiss to your pulse point. "And miss the part where you tried to pretend you didn’t want to?"

You pull back just enough to glare at him. "That's not funny."

He smirks, thumb brushing over your cheek. "You still mad at me?"

You let out a breath, trying so hard to stay indignant, but he’s right here, touching you, kissing you—

And you’ve wanted this too much to stop now.

You forgot what it felt like to be with him.

To be wrapped in him, to feel like this was yours and no one else’s.

Your nails graze his scalp as you sigh against his lips. The past few months of distance, of doubt, of letting your own pride keep you from him—it all feels so stupid now. You hate how easily other women get to be around him, touching him, laughing with him, making the world believe they have a shot.

His free hand roughly palms your breast, kneading the soft flesh as his thumb circles your nipple through the thin fabric of your bra. He can feel it pebbling under his touch, betraying your body's eager response to him.

"You can't resist me, can you, love?" he purrs, nipping at your earlobe. "No matter how mad you are, your body remembers who it belongs to."

"Don't be so sure of yourself," you pant, even as your back arches, pressing your breast more firmly into his palm. "I'm still pissed."

But your words lack conviction, undermined by the breathy quality of your voice and the way your thighs tremble, opening slightly in invitation. Aaron notices, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Really?" he murmurs, low and dangerous. In one swift motion, he hikes up your skirt and pushes your panties aside, his thick fingers caressing your folds. "Then why are you so wet for me already, hmm?"

He circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your hips buck. "Stop lying to yourself, love."

Two long fingers suddenly plunge knuckle-deep inside you, curling to stroke that sensitive spot. "Tell me how much you've missed this, baby."

You gasp sharply, head falling back as Aaron's fingers fill and stretch you so perfectly. "Fuck, Aaron…"

Your inner walls flutter and clench around the intrusion, drawing him deeper. "I-I've missed you so much." you admit.

He curls his fingers just right, rubbing insistently against your G-spot as his thumb flicks rapidly over your clit. "I know, baby."

You moan wantonly, grinding down onto Aaron's fingers as they work magic inside you. "Ahhh…f-fuck, just like that…"

He growls lowly as he suddenly withdraws his fingers, leaving you aching and empty right as you were approaching your release. "Not yet, love. Did you think I was gonna let you come that easily after what you pulled last night?"

In one smooth motion, he scoops you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. He carries you to his bedroom, and puts you down next to his king sized bed. "Strip for me. Nice and slow."

You slowly remove your disheveled clothing, revealing your curves inch by tantalizing inch. You keep your gaze locked with Aaron's, a defiant glint in your eyes despite the blush coloring your cheeks.

He unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans, freeing his throbbing erection. He strokes himself slowly as he watches you strip. "Fuck, look at you… so fucking sexy. You drive me crazy, you know that?"

He climbs on the bed and leans back against the headboard. Stroking his dick slowly, eyeing you with intense desire and a hint of challenge. "Come here, baby. Show me how much you missed this dick."

You straddle Aaron's lap, positioning yourself over his throbbing erection. You tease him, rubbing the tip along your slick folds. "Like this, baby?"

You sink down slowly, inch by delicious inch, until he's fully seated inside your tight heat. A low moan escapes your lips at the feeling of being so perfectly stretched and filled after so long.

He groans deeply as your tight walls engulf him, gripping his shaft like a velvet vice. "Fuck yes, just like that."

He grips your hips tightly, guiding your movements as you start to roll your hips, riding him slowly. "That's it. Show me how bad you needed this dick."

Your hands rest on his broad chest for leverage, nails lightly scraping his skin. "Mmmnh… I did need this… needed you so badly…"

He grunts and thrusts up into you, meeting you stroke for stroke. One hand moves to your ass, gripping and kneading the soft flesh as he guides your movements.

Your breasts bounce enticingly with each movement, nipples hardened into stiff peaks. You throw your head back in ecstasy, lost in the sensation of being so thoroughly filled and pleased. “Ahhh... fuck Aaron... I missed you so much...”

He groans appreciatively as he watches you lose yourself in pleasure, reveling in the sight of your body moving so beautifully above him. “That's it, baby... let go for me.”

He leans up to capture one of your bouncing nipples in his mouth, suckling and nibbling the sensitive bud as his hand snakes between your bodies to rub tight circles on your clit. “Cum for me, darling.”

You cry out sharply as Aaron's skilled fingers find your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Ahhh... fuuuck... I'm gonna cum!”

Your movements become erratic, chasing your impending release. Tears of overwhelming emotion prick at the corners of your eyes. Despite your reluctance to express your feelings, you cant help but say, “I love you. I never want to be apart from you again.”

With a final roll of your hips, your orgasm crashes over you. Your inner muscles clamp down rhythmically on Aaron's dick. “FUCKKK!”

With a few more powerful thrusts, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his own release overtaking him.

He holds you tightly against his chest as he pulses and throbs within you, filling you with his hot seed.

Panting heavily, he presses fervent kisses along your neck and jawline, each one searing with need, but also with something else—something deeper, something he’s been holding onto for too long. “God, I love you so fucking much... Never doubt that, okay?” His words are rough, filled with raw emotion, and they send a wave of warmth and longing rushing through you.

He cups your face tenderly, his fingers tracing the delicate contours of your skin, his gaze intense and unwavering. His eyes shine with adoration and lingering passion as he gazes at you, making you feel both vulnerable and cherished in the same breath. “We’re in this together, always. I promise.”

The words hit you harder than you expect, like a rush of relief flooding through your chest. His sincerity washes over you, but you can’t stop the overwhelming emotions threatening to spill out. You pull back slightly to meet his gaze, needing to look him in the eye as your own shimmer with unshed tears and raw emotion.

“I’m sorry I have such a hard time expressing my feelings, I don’t know why I’m like this,” you whisper, the words slipping from your lips before you can even think about holding them back.

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he wipes a stray tear from your cheek, his thumb brushing gently across the skin, his touch soft, yet grounding. He studies your face with that same loving gaze, his expression soft and understanding, but there’s a hint of something deeper—concern, perhaps, or even a touch of hurt.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs, his voice a whisper that feels like the calm after a storm. “I do wish you felt safe enough to tell me anything after all these years. I want to be the person you lean on when you’re struggling with your feelings.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and suddenly you’re flooded with guilt. You knew how much he cared, how deeply he loved you, but hearing him say it, hearing him speak of his own pain at the wall you’ve built between you—it hurts. You feel like you’ve let him down, like you’ve betrayed the very trust he’s shown you. He’s right. He’s always been right. And still, you kept walls up like he was the enemy, when he’s only ever reached out with open hands.

You’re horrified that he thinks he doesn’t create an emotionally safe environment for you when that’s so far from the truth. “It’s not your fault at all,” you say, your voice cracking slightly, “I’ve always been this way. I’ve always been so scared of being vulnerable, scared of needing someone too much.” You feel the weight of those words as they leave your mouth, and a part of you knows they’ve been trapped in you for so long that it’s finally time to let them out.

Aaron watches you for a long moment, his thumb still brushing softly across your cheek like he’s trying to calm something in you that’s always been just out of reach.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” he says. “You don’t even have to be ready. But you do have to let me in. That’s the only way this can work.”

You look away, jaw tightening. But he doesn’t let you escape into silence this time.

“Don’t do that,” he says gently. “Don’t shut down. Not now. Talk to me. Say what you’ve been wanting to say since I left.”

You bite your lip, your throat tight.

“I hated waking up alone every day,” you admit. “I hated not knowing if you were thinking about me, not knowing if I still mattered in a world that suddenly couldn’t get enough of you. I hated seeing your name in headlines next to someone else’s face. I hated that I couldn’t tell anyone you were mine. I hated that you didn’t seem to care.”

You pause, breath shaky.

“I used to wait for your name to pop up on my phone like it was oxygen. And when it didn’t... I’d lie to myself. I’d tell myself you were too busy. That I was being needy. That this is what I signed up for. That you already had so much on your plate.”

Aaron’s expression doesn’t waver. He doesn’t flinch or deflect or turn away.

He listens.

And then, he speaks—voice low but firm.

“You should’ve told me all of that the first night you felt it.”

“I know,” you whisper.

“I should’ve done better,” he says. “I should’ve made sure you never had to wonder if you still mattered to me.”

“I got caught up in it all,” he admits. “The press, the schedule, the pressure. I kept telling myself you understood, that you were strong, that you’d wait for me to get my shit together.” His eyes find yours, full of something honest and unguarded. “But that wasn’t fair to you."

You look down, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know how to ask for more without feeling like I was asking for too much.”

His hand lifts to your cheek, tilting your face gently back to him.

“You’re never too much,” he says, his voice soft but laced with that familiar teasing edge. “I love knowing how obsessed you are with me.”

You roll your eyes, the corners of your mouth twitching despite the weight in your chest. “You make it hard to stay mad.”

“Good,” he murmurs.

There’s a silence that settles between you then—not empty, but full. Heavy with all the things that no longer have to be said in the dark, or buried beneath pride.

“I don’t want to live in separate lives anymore,” he says after a beat.

Your heart skips.

“I want you here,” he says. “Permanently. Let’s find a place that’s ours. Start fresh. I know it’s a lot to ask—starting over, uprooting your life. But I’ll support you. If you want to work, work. If you want to take your time, do that too. I just want to know that I get to come home to you.”

You let out a slow breath, all your old defenses still rising like reflexes—but you push through them this time.

“I’m scared,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says. “Do it scared.”

You let out a breath that feels like it’s been caught in your chest for months. “We're being so fucking dramatic right now. Have you been stealing lines from your scripts again?”

He chuckles, sliding his arms around your waist again. “You say that like you didn’t just admit you waited for my texts like oxygen.”

You bury your face into his chest, groaning. “Can we not bring that up ever again?”

There’s still fear threading through your chest, still questions and doubts lingering in the corners of your mind. But for once, they’re not winning. Because he’s here, and you feel something you haven’t in months.

Home.

Not a place. Not a plan. Just him. Just you. Still choosing each other.

Even scared. Especially then.

------

A/N: Here is the story I mentioned earlier that inspired the club scene a bit: Read Here.

#aaron pierre #aaron pierre x reader #aaron pierre fanfic #aaron pierre smut #terry richmond #terry richmond fic #terry richmond smut

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cutehoons02 · 6 months ago

Text

For me he's only a rival or something else for my heart?

University series: Jake Heeseung Jay

*pairing: Popular pervy student Jungwon x Good girl

*trope: Rivals to lovers

*synopsis: What if the best student in the course was put to work with one of the most popular students? A catastrophe for Y/n, she and Jungwon are so different in everything: Jungwon is one of the most popular kids at the university, he’s so cheeky and takes life too lightly, and for Y/n is the distraction representation. The good girl only thinks about finishing her studies in places from her parents and is a little hesitant about Jungwon’s personality, but what would happen when their two worlds meet and for 4 months they will have to study and spend many hours to create a university project?

*tags: A lot of humor, Jungwon proposes: that he wants to make her relax after each study session (sexual distraction), unprotected sex (don't horny ppl), tension, oral sex (f.m receiving) fingering,corruption, hickeys, fluff, orgasm,possessive Jungwon, pet names (nerd, good girl,honey,sweetnees,princess) +16

8k (📘)

(English is not my first language)

The study room was bright and almost aseptic, perfect for working and studying in peace. But after only 10 minutes, you were already at the end of your patience.

Jungwon was late of course!

You were a model, disciplined student, always in the front row, with impeccable notebooks and a natural distrust of people too charismatic like Jungwon, who made trouble from morning to night. When you saw it, you thought it was "too perfect" not to hide some defect and didn't understand how it always had its head in the clouds, but being like you, one of the best students in the course.

Jungwon was the perfect boy, both academically and socially. He was part of the Taekwondo team, the girls loved him, he had a huge fan base, and the professors appreciated him. He didn’t try too hard to get good results, but he was always one step ahead and had that feline look: smart, quick, and mysterious.

During a management seminar for the Hoteleri, the professor announced that you two would be partners in a project that was worth 50% of the final grade. You would have to work together for four months and submit a paper that not only met the academic criteria but was innovative and creative and at the end of the course it would be put in your student and work CV to take more credits at the end of the degree.

You looked at the clock and mumbled loudly: "10 minutes late who knows what excuse will come up this time. It’s typical of Jungwon to arrive late but get away with it only because of that pretty face, when you’re so perfect you probably think the time of others doesn’t matter." you thought.

The door opened, and Jungwon made his entrance with the nonchalance of being at home everywhere. Casual jacket over a flawless white shirt, hair that looked just like it had been taken care of by the wind, cat eyes that looked at you from head to toe, and his usual cheeky smile. He carried two cappuccinos and a croissant.

With a satisfied smile, ignoring your murderous look, he put a glass in front of you from the bar of the university, and after a while, he stretched out like a cat and saw his shirt stand up and your cheeks were slightly colored when you saw his perfect V line and his perfect muscles in beautiful shows for long hours spent training. «Sorry, the barista was slow. Do you want a piece of croissant? It’s buttery to the point! I got you a cappuccino not knowing what you like, i also added sugar to make it sweeter»

You stared at him like he was an alien.

"Sure, because breakfast is more important than the project that is worth half of our final grade to be late for our first study appointment and i don’t like things too sweet for anything."

Jungwon looked at you with a slight grin « A man must feed himself and my favorite meal is breakfast in all senses both sweet and savory. If you may be interested, my plan for the project is already all here in my head, i had to deduce myself that you were a lover of things bitter or sour as your personality but for once you can make an effort and drink this sweet cappuccino just right to sweeten you»

You leaned forward, crossing your arms on the table and gazing at him with a murderous look.

"Oh? So you think your genius boy brain is gonna win us all without having to do anything? And stop saying i’m sour, you’ve arrived late with your usual smile of serial charmer"

«I don’t like to brag, but... yes. In my beautiful head i have a lot of ideas that could work, just relax a little you are always so tense and serious in everything you do, honey»

You bit your tongue to not answer immediately. But in the end, you clattered.

"You know what I don’t understand about you, Jungwon? How do you get such high grades when you don’t seem to take anything seriously and don't call me sweetie, I’m not a fan of yours or one of those girls who would pull their hair out to get your attention"

Jungwon leaning against the chair’s back, with a sneering smile

«It’s a natural talent. And then, maybe the professor appreciates my relaxed style. You should try to relax sometimes there are so many things you could try!»

Closed your laptop with a strong blow and Jungwon looked at you with a small smile

"God, you are impossible how do you get so full of yourself? Here’s the plan: we’ll work together, but I’ll make the planning. You follow the instructions, no improvising, no distractions, and no provocations"

Jungwon stood at the table and looked at you with a diabolical smile «Distractions? You are the one who seems distracted, I saw how you looked at my muscles before or how you’re blushing now while I’m near you with my face»

You blushed imperceptibly, but you quickly recovered and left the study room angry; why of all people had to put you in a pair with him? Jungwon watches you leave, with a satisfied smile. He knows that he has the potential to test your perfection and enjoys this new challenge with you.

The men’s dorm was noisier than you had anticipated. Although it was only five o'clock in the afternoon, laughter could be heard from a room next door, the distant sound of a video game, and someone singing in the shower. It was chaotic, suffocating, and exactly the kind of place you didn’t want to be. Jungwon greeted you at the door with his usual cheeky smile, dressed in a relaxed way: a grey sweatshirt and suit pants that made him look even more casually perfect and with his usual cat eyes that never detached from your body.

"I can’t believe i wasted precious time to come here. We could just work in the library."

Jungwon closed the door behind you leaning against it

«The library is boring. And then, i wanted to show you that i’m good at working even in the middle of chaos you know as a normal person.»

You looked around, noticing the perfectly made bed, the books stacked neatly on the desk, and a pair of headphones hanging from the edge of the computer monitor, There were some records from current and former artists and there was a smell of clean and vanilla that invaded the whole room and was much more neat than you expected.

"For a male dormitory, it’s surprisingly... clean and fragrant."

Jungwon raised a funny eyebrow «What did you think? That I was a mess and lived in dirt? I let you down again, huh?»

You looked up and sat down in the chair by the desk, trying to ignore the way he moved around the room with a cat-like naturalness, as if he was always in complete control of the situation.

After an hour of discussing, it was clear that working there wasn’t going as planned you kept talking, explaining details and strategies but Jungwon seemed more interested in watching you than taking notes.

You were really exasperated and snapped your fingers near his face "Jungwon, are you listening or waiting for me to do all the work for you?"

Jungwon chuckled sitting on the bed with a bent knee

«I listen to you. You’re charming when you get angry, you know?»

You stared at him, but he got up from his bed and leaned over the desk with one hand on the table. He was too close and you felt it immediately: his scent, his piercing look, the way he seemed to enjoy making you uncomfortable.

You backed slightly back into the chair "Don’t try to distract me we have a lot to do."

He looked at you with a cheeky smile «Distract? I would never do that but you know, i think, i have found a solution to our problem»

You looked at him suspiciously, crossing your arms.

"And what is this brilliant idea of yours?"

Jungwon lowered the tone of his voice, with a more sweet and provocative nuance «You put aside your obsession to be the best... Just for these sessions. And i make sure you relax. Physically and mentally»

You immediately blush with your mouth open for surprise.

"What.. what do you mean 'physically'?"

Jungwon giggled, raising a finger to touch your chin slightly «Nothing too compromising, but if you want we could raise the bar just a little is a way to let you off a bit and to make you understand that there are much more beautiful things besides the study. Like a kiss or two, maybe a hug, i could make you feel good with my fingers, you might shoulder or hair massage, but we could make each other feel good to each other. It depends on how tense you are that day, sweetness»

You opened your eyes wide, torn between indignation and...something different something you didn’t want to admit. You stood up, trying to keep calm.

"That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t need... you to relax. I don’t even like you and I just think you’re a pervert and that’s it."

Jungwon smiled, coming close enough to make you feel the warmth of his body «Are you sure? Because you already seem less nervous now.»

Your heart was beating faster, but you refused to let it control you.

"You are unbearable."

Jungwon laughed slowly, tilting his head like a satisfied cat

«Yet you are still here»

He reached out his hand, gently brushing a lock of hair that had fallen on your face you held your breath, your face red, but you did not move «Hey, I’m kidding... partly. I know you are wonderfully good at what you do but maybe that’s the problem you’re too focused on showing it to everyone when you don’t have to do it with me, you can be yourself»

You looked at him with surprise at the sincerity in his voice.

"It’s not so simple for me, we can come back for another hour to study the project and then if i feel comfortable we may not know how to do" Jungwon with a sweet smile, moved slightly back.

«I know. For this i want to help you, we go back to study a little bit nerd but then i want to make you relax a little and put you at ease sweet»

It was almost an hour and a half ago when you had started to throw ideas down again and he had been surprisingly helpful, but after a while, his attention began to fade. Without saying anything, he got up and went to his computer, turning it on with a grin.

You looked up from the confused book "Jungwon, what are you doing?" Jungwon with a cool touch and a mouse movement opened a video game «I’m taking a break. You know, the brain needs to relax every now and then»

"Pause? We’re trying to get a major project going, and you think about video games?"

Jungwon turned to the chair, with an innocent expression: «Hey, what did we say before? I want you to relax. Also, I see you tense as a violin string and it’s been almost 3 hours that we are throwing down our ideas, now enough and come here» You looked at him suspiciously "Why should i come there? There’s only one chair"

Jungwon waving and turning the chair slightly made room for you «Come here and sit on my legs»

Your heart began to beat faster. You were furious, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of showing himself intimidated and with a deep breath, you stood up and walked towards him, trying to keep an impassive expression.

You crossed your arms, standing in front of him "If you think this is a way to relax me, you’re wrong, Jungwon"

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, tilting his head with his usual cat smile« I’m sure i’ll help to relax a bit. Trust me, sweetness»

Slowly youy sat over his legs trying to keep a distance, but Jungwon gently pulled you closer by leaning your back against his chest.

"What now? You gonna play while i stay here as a decoration?" Jungwon laughed quietly, lowering his head near your ear

«Not really» Then, with a naturalness that left you breathless, Jungwon touched your neck with a light kiss, and with his fingers moved slightly a handful of hair on your shoulder should not have intended to kiss you and as a feline sniffed your neck and laid gentle kisses and his big braver smitten you to him.

You whispered slightly, trying to get away not so much because you were annoyed by his kisses or rather they were pleasant but because they made you feel a lot of chills and slight tickling. " Jungwon, what are you doing?"

Jungwon with a mischievous smile continued to give you little kisses on the neck « I’m just relaxing...and trying to relax you. Try to close your eyes and trust me for once, sweetness»

Closed your eyes as he told you and with a voice that trembled slightly, but tried to keep control you said "This is not... professional."

Jungwon started laughing slowly, this time sliding his hands over your hips without squeezing too much «Oh, let’s face it, you’re enjoying it. Don’t look so tense now.» Blush, trying not to give in but unable to hide a small smile. " You’re amazing, you always do what you want, right?" Jungwon finished the session of those little kisses he leaned his chin on your shoulder, with a satisfied smile « Only with you sweetie. But you know what? When you relax a little, you’re even more adorable.»

You looked up but did not move from his legs to get away from him. As much as you hated to admit it, Jungwon knew exactly how to surprise you and at the same time make you feel safe. That night, his plan to distract you worked perfectly.

It was late afternoon and Jungwon arrived on time at the girl’s bedroom door, which in itself was an extraordinary event, and knocked twice, waiting with his usual smile.

When the door opened, he was surprised. The room was a perfect reflection of something you would never expect from yourself: walls decorated with vintage posters of fashion icons, shelves full of glossy magazines, an electronic keyboard near the window and a sewing mannequin in a corner covered with unfinished fabric, and on display were the course books.

«Wow, and I thought all you wanted to do was be the best in class. What is this? Your secret side as an artist? When you told me that you wanted to study in your room I thought "Cabbage will kill me"»

You blush slightly as you close the door behind him. "You might still risk Jungwon. It’s not a secret, I just don’t talk about it. It’s not important for the class, so..."

Jungwon approached the dummy and observed it with curiosity

«Isn’t it important? You make it seem like nothing is important but studying. But this is amazing I bet you’re good at that too, huh?»

You shrugged, trying to hide the embarrassment "I’m not as good as you think. It’s just a hobby, can we start transcribing the various areas where we would like to develop our hotels?"

Jungwon chuckled as she sat down on the chair by the bed and you leaned in your bed

«Always so serious. All right, boss tell me what to do!»

For a couple of hours, something unusual happened: you really studied, obviously Jungwon loved to throw you jokes about how methodical you were with all your notes and you would tease him because he was very messy with his ideas but he loved that mess and understood. You worked on the project with a surprising understanding, almost forgetting the tension that usually accompanied you. But Jungwon looked at you with his languid gaze, a mix of curiosity and mischief.

When you finished studying without wanting to, you stretched and the sweater just lifted up, revealing a hint of light skin over the jeans. Jungwon tilted his head as a cat would be fascinated by something he could not ignore.

«You must relax a little,» he said in a low voice, almost a whisper.

You are slightly distracted, looking at him with suspicion. "I’m fine."

«You don’t look well. You seem stressed and if you relax you concentrate better. Want an example?» You saw Jungwon get up from the chair and lean on the edge of your bed where you were sitting with crossed legs

You looked at him confused and with a slight redness on the cheeks. "Jungwon"

He didn’t answer. He just put a hand to your face, moving a lock of hair behind his ear. His eyes never left yours and that simple touch made you shudder.

«Don’t run away» whispered, his voice a hypnotic call.

Before you could protest, Jungwon touched your lips with his, so gently that it almost seemed like a dream. But he didn’t stop there, his hand moved on your neck holding you with surprisingly gentle firmness, while the kiss instead deepened becoming slower, more intense, and in the room there were only the sounds of your mouths touching and the rain that was beating hard against the windows.

You found yourself answering him without thinking your hands clung to his sweater, Subconsciously pulling him closer and you felt a slight groan from your mouth as he put his tongue into your mouth and you strapped your arms around his neck to keep it closer to you. Jungwon smiled when he heard that little moan and would hear it for the rest of his life.

When you separated, you both had heavy breaths and he smiled at you with his usual cheeky smile, that typical satisfied cat expression.

«See? It’s not so bad to relax every now and then! You want us to continue kissing or we could do something else, always with your consent and with your sweet times» Watched Jungwon take off his sweatshirt and stay with a black t-shirt that made his muscles and biceps stand out

You hit him lightly on the chest, but he couldn’t hold back a small smile. "What would you like to do?"

Jungwon looked at you with a curious look, god how could you ask them such a question? He would do a lot of dirty things with your body but you were so innocent in his eyes that he would treat you like a princess but at the same time he would want to ruin you completely.

«Take off my shirt and try to find out what makes me horny» You watched Jungwon lean on your keyboard and you with slightly cold hands but not trembling took off his black shirt that made his muscles visible and when you took it off a thin but sculpted chest was in front of your eyes and without doing so you lick slightly the lips that still knew from your strawberry lip balm and Jungwon.

«Do you like what you see, sweetie?» He asked knowing that even if you were shy and innocent you could not say that what you had in front of you did not like, you reached out to trace his toned muscles, His abs seemed to form toned valleys until you reached her V line and felt Jungwon tremble slightly both for your light touch but also because your hands were slightly cold and looked at you this time with a serious look.

"Can I. Can I touch you, Jungwon?" Jungwon laughed a little when you asked him but he immediately nodded yes and raised his hips slightly because he thought that you only took off his pants all the way with your fingers, you also slid the boxer shorts and saw his venous length already sticking out standing up fairly, Jungwon hissed when you touch it there, the sensation overwhelming him like electricity as your soft hands contrast with the venous muscle.

«God Y/n, it didn’t have to go so i had to be the one that made you relax not you» You started with a good cat lick on his dick and with his hand flying to hold your hair for you, wrapping it around her wrist like a ponytail. He wanted to be careful and kind, and not scare you but when he heard and saw that you started putting almost everything in his mouth a slight moan came out of his lips, and looked at you with the head saying yes to continue. Your mind is overwhelmed by the way his tip presses down the bottom of your throat and how your pussy felt excited and you felt that your panties became wetter and wetter as Jungwon slowly pushed his cock into your mouth, his big hand never stopped caressing your hair.

«Y/n» his breath stops, he was delighted to see you so busy making him feel good and it was a feeling of well-being but also of perversion for him because even the good girl who did not want distractions stooped to make him feel good by giving them a blow job, the urge to push you even further down on his cock blossoms in his mind but he puts it aside as he looks at his dear, sweet rival bent in bed sucking his dick.

«Honey, you can stop now seriously you have already done too much for me» feeling bad for yourself.

You can shake your head and insist that you could take much more and make him relax. You relax your throat a little, breathing through your nose as you push it deeper; Jungwon groans at the action, and his hips are wailing and pushing awkwardly. Do your best to satisfy him, until he leaves a whiny mess as he reaches his orgasm moaning softly your name, lost in its world of pleasure while you struggle to not choke and spit the liquid that goes down your throat until you swallow it all in your mouth. You raised your head to see him completely red, with the hair unkempt, and pulled you to yourself putting you embraced beside him with his big arms.

"You liked..." Didn’t even finish the sentence and gave you a light kiss on the lips, then on his forehead, and looked at you with a sweet smile until you heard a loud thunder coming from outside the light went away for a few seconds and there were only your breaths that could be felt.

«I liked it and also very much Y/n, who would have said that you were so entrapping and seems that the time has decided to do me another favor, sweetness» commented with his usual relaxed tone, but with a glimmer of malice in his eyes.

"What favor?" You asked without turning away from the window.

«Force me to stay here for the night» he replied shrugging his shoulders and you shoot yourself. "What? Don’t even think about... staying here! You can go home."

Jungwon raised a funny eyebrow as he hugged you even more to himself. «With this storm? Look at the weather Y/n, do you really want me to catch a cold and then you have to double the work for the project? I could get a lot of bad things with time like the kind that makes me drive by some distracted motorist»

You looked up because these were only excuses that he invented to be with you and invade your living space.

"Okay, but don’t you dare do anything weird," Jungwon nodded with an innocent smile and watched you go to the bathroom to change.

You were quiet in your bed, flowing through the various social media until Jungwon came out of the bathroom with his black shirt and his tracksuit pants on and lay down next to you as if it was the most natural thing in the world «It’s funny, you try to be a good girl and be my rival n*1 but you are playing with fire by inviting me here. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?»

You just turned with your faces only a few inches apart. "Maybe I’m not as predictable as you think."

The answer made him smile, but this time the smile was different: deeper, he put a hand gently on your waist, bringing you even closer to his toned chest. «And anyway... you’re still too tense. Let me hug you, at least for one night»

The following week during one of the working sessions, a senior boy came to supervise the progress of the project. He was tall and confident with a charismatic smile, the classic type who did not go unnoticed and Jungwon looked up when he saw Minjae enter your study room.

<< Oh, you two are the ones from the hotel management project I heard a lot of good things about your duo especially about you Y/n>> said Minjae looking at the documents scattered on the desk. You smiled at him and looked at you from the head to the foot and you looked at him softly so as not to appear timid and awkward.

"Yes, we are working on the marketing and area management plan for hotels in different parts of the world. It’s a bit challenging, but we’re getting there and working day by day."

<< Well, if you need help, you can count on me>> said Minjae winking at you, and when he stepped out to see what you were typing on the computer, he put a hand on your shoulder with a gesture that seemed random but didn’t go unnoticed by Jungwon.

He was sitting in front of you and at that moment stopped writing. His eyes slowly rose towards Minjae, a look that was not very friendly.

«I think we do very well even alone, we are the best of the course and they put us together in pairs to surprise everyone with our ideas a little bit conflicting but it will come out really a nice job,» said Jungwon with the tone of cold but controlled.

Minjae chuckled. << No need to be so protective and territorial. I’m just trying to lend a hand>>

«Yes, but we didn’t ask for your help even if you are our supervisor I repeat we’re doing a good job» replied Jungwon, crossing his arms.

You stepped in quickly, trying to calm the tension. "All right, guys. Minjae, thanks for the offer. If we need you, we’ll let you know but right now as Jungwon says we’re really at a good point of work."

Minjae smiled at you, ignoring Jungwon. << Sure. But if you have any problems or issues to talk about...>> paused, lowering the tone of voice, << you can contact me also after hours. >>

Jungwon stood up slowly, putting his hands on the table. «Minjae, I don’t think your advice is so necessary.» Jungwon made a sign of his head to Minjae to leave and raised his hands as a sign of surrender

<< Relax, Jungwon," said Minjae with a smile. <<You don’t have to be like that... I repeat "territorial">>

Minjae left after a while and you watched Jungwon touch his hair and roll his eyes. "What the hell was that? Why were you so hostile to him?" Jungwon laughed for a moment and looked at you with a slightly angry look

«Don’t pretend to be dumb Y/n» he replied, approaching your body and sitting in the chair next to yours «That loser was clearly hitting on you.»

You shook your head a little amused. "So? He was just nice, there’s no need to make a scene like the one you made earlier."

«Kind of you?» he repeated, laughing bitterly and touching your cheek slightly to gently put a lock of hair in your ear

«Honey, there’s nothing kind about the way he looked at you. And if you think I’m going to stand here watching someone else hover around you, you’re wrong.»

You crossed your arms, trying to keep control of the situation. "You’re not my boyfriend, Jungwon. You can’t decide who talks to me or what I do with other guys when all this is over I can do whatever I want."

Your words struck him, but instead of getting angry, his smile changed. It was more dangerous now as if something inside him had snapped.

«Oh, really?» he asked, approaching to reduce the space between you a few centimeters. «So I can afford to show you that you don’t need anyone else, right?» Before you could answer, Jungwon took the chair you were sitting in and pulled it toward himself with a determined movement. His hands were attached to your thighs, firm but not aggressive, and the way he looked at you was intense and overwhelming.

"Jungwon..." you started talking but he interrupted you by putting his finger in front of your lips

«Tell me you don’t want this» whispered, the tone of his voice deep and hypnotic as he approached your neck «Tell me that you don’t like it when I am like this with you»

You could not answer and at that moment he lowered his head, his lips finding your neck with disarming security. The kiss was not gentle, it was bold, possessive, and made you shudder.

«You mustn’t play with me, honey» he continued, his hands now moving along your back tracing slow lines that made you tremble. «Because I will never play clean with you.»

He continued to kiss your thin neck but this time with more fervor and slightly sucked a part of your sensitive neck and moaned his name and drew him closer to you and felt his hand make little circles in your thigh, It was totally dangerous what you were doing because you were in public and when you realized this thing you pushed him slightly but only to look into his eyes, short breath and red cheeks. "You’re impossible, Jungwon" you mumbled

«Yes» he replied, smiling before kissing you on your lips this time with a passion that left you breathless, it was as if he wanted to show you at that moment that there was no one else who could make you feel like that.

When you sat down, you looked at him with eyes still full of wonder. You weren’t sure how you got into that situation, but one thing was certain: you liked the way it made you feel.

It had been a few weeks since Jungwon’s alleged jealousy towards Minjae and now that jealousy was coming back when he saw Minjae supervising your project but the problem was that he wasn’t looking after Jungwon as if it didn’t exist but only Y/n.

<< Really impressive work you’ve done so far>> said Minjae, leaning towards you. << I understand why everyone says you are one of the brightest students in the class. With a talent like yours, you could get anywhere in the hotel world and I would see you as a luxury property manager. And... maybe if you need some guidance, we could work together after this project or I could mentor you for your final thesis. >>

You blush slightly but try to keep control and be professional because you don’t like the flattery that Minjae is giving you. "Thank you, I’ll think about it but now I think our teamwork with Jungwon is going very well and I think it will bring us both good grades and nice references from the professors" Jungwon was slightly surprised to hear good things about him from you, Your n*1 rival was the one to tell it all.

<< Oh, sure your work is going great, you need some tricks but surely tomorrow with your presentation you will make a beautiful figure>> said Minjae, casting a fleeting glance at Jungwon, who was observing the scene in silence. << But you know, with someone more experienced, you could get much more. I could teach you techniques that go far beyond what you’re learning now>>

His words had a subtone that left no room for misunderstanding. Minjae came closer, almost invading your personal space, and he put a light hand on your arm. << If you want, we could discuss your ideas better... maybe over a coffee, just you and me. >> You looked at Jungwon with a straight jaw and slightly red cheeks

"Ehm, thank you so much seriously but now I’m only focused on the project with Jungwon, and" Jungwon moved before you kept answering. He rose from his seat, grasping Minjae’s wrist with a firm but controlled grip.

«I think you’ve said enough, she’s trying to tell you in a polite way that she doesn’t care about you and even your provocations of spending time with her don’t interest her,» Jungwon said, the low tone and tension-laden.

Minjae stared at him, trying to maintain an air of superiority. << I’m just trying to be helpful. No need to overdo it and I repeat as the last time to be so territorial with Y/n>

Jungwon took a step forward, forcing Minjae to take a step back. «Your help is not needed. And I don’t think she’s appreciating the way you’re behaving with her»

Looking at Jungwon with a little smile "Jungwon, it’s all right. We can"

«No» he interrupted her, without taking his eyes off Minjae. «Everything is not all right»

After Minjae left, Jungwon was still furious. The tension in his body was palpable and you didn’t know how to handle it.

“You shouldn’t have behaved like that, I can defend myself you know how many girls have to endure these things every day?” said trying to keep calm and make him reason

Your words seemed to break something inside him. Jungwon came quickly, his eyes dark with dangerous determination.

«Sit down at the desk,Y/n» he said in a low voice.

"Jungwon, I" He gave you a provocative look and you sat down at the desk marrying some books. His eyes were nailed in yours, and you felt your heart beating hard. «You are mine. You know that, don’t you? And now I will make you say I don’t know how many times my name so you’ll remember and I’ll make you come between my dicks and lick your sweet pussy so you’ll understand who belongs to»

You don’t know exactly how it happened, but the next thing you know his fingers finally land on your covered clitoris. Rub some delicate circles, fast and precise, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. «Shit, you’re so wet to me and you still have your panties attached, let’s see if there are already some little strands of your excitement sweetness» The tip of his finger grasps the hem of your not-so-clean panties and Jungwon seriously wanted to know why you were wearing slutty panties if you were being a good girl and you are complaining in your throat about the slight cold that you felt because of the desk below you.

With your legs lightly thrown on Jungwon’s shoulders, his head buried between your thighs, his tongue immediately got to work kissing your pussy everywhere. His tongue moves around your core so fucking well, alternating sucking and clicking on your clitoris to pushing and licking inside your pussy, your unacceptably sinful and delicious sounds were a joy to the ears of your rival n*1.

"Jungwon, pls is so beautiful but at the same time sick we are in public" You tried to hold yourself with your elbows on the desk, and with the other hand, you pulled slightly the tuft of Jungwon that was slightly tickling your body. «You are lucky that there is no one left at this time otherwise what people would think of hearing your moans and irregular breathing. Speak Y/n, otherwise, I stop what would they think?» was literally squeezing and torturing you with his tongue constricted in your pussy and a finger stuck into your clit to massage it.

"They would have thought that maybe I’m not such a good girl" A light laugh came out of Jungwon’s lips and said «Good girl» closes his eyes and enjoys your delicious juice flowing in her mouth, Groaning in your pussy as it is fucking nice to have you so vulnerable and cheeky while you are waving for the various sensations that you feel but it was not yet finished because after a few seconds two fingers entered inside of you, already starting with an unforgivable rhythm, By curling them and finding that spot in you easily.

When you came between his fingers it detached from you both had breathless breath. Jungwon took your face in his hands, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs.

«I will never leave you to someone like him,» he said, his voice soft but still. You smile slightly with your heart beating wildly. "I didn’t think you were so jealous."

«With you?» he replied, his tone that only softened slightly. «I will always be. We go to my dorm to finish fixing the last few tricks that tomorrow our presentation must be perfect, sweetness»

The rain kept on beating against the window panes, creating an almost hypnotic background. After the scene with Minjae, the tension between you was palpable. It was 10 o'clock past and you had reviewed the project at least 3 times and Jungwon didn’t leave you alone for a moment, as if he wanted to reiterate that you belonged to him, and no one else.

When you had finished the project you wanted to keep a minimum distance, but Jungwon had other plans.

«Why are you avoiding my gaze?» he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at you with that feline and piercing look.

"I’m not avoiding anything" lying by arranging the project documents with shaky hands and red cheeks

«You’re not very good at lying, princess» he replied in a low voice. «You’re wondering what’s going to happen now, aren’t you?»

You stopped by biting your lip. "Jungwon, we can’t..." You began but you hushed when he stood up, approaching you with slow but determined steps.

«We can’t what?» he asked, tilting his head slightly as a curious cat would. «Can’t we be together? Can’t we do what we both have wanted to do for weeks?»

His voice was a whisper now, and the way he looked at you made you feel trapped, but you didn’t want to run. When he took your face in his hands, his thumbs gently caressed his cheeks, your heart seemed to want to go out of your chest.

«I don’t want to share you,» he said in a strong tone. «Not with Minjae, not with anyone else. You’re mine, understand? And now I’ll make you understand even more»

You didn’t answer, but when he kissed you, it was impossible for you to back out. There was too much passion, too much intensity, and you knew that at that moment you were completely giving up.

Jungwon’s hands reached your legs pulling them towards him, before reaching with his arms behind your chest and lifting you like a Koala, and a part of your mind flashed thinking how strong it was, how easily it could lift you up, and how easily it could make you feel good. He dragged you to his bed, laying down where there were his pillows and your eyes waved towards him his look was feline, and looked at you as if you were only his and no one else’s, «I can show you that you are mine, and i’m yours, Y/n?» He leaned down on your neck and before moving his head towards your ear began to kiss you and suck the area that he knew was sensitive, his breath tickled your skin as he continued «Use words, princess» A shiver ran down your back, a trembling breath left your lips as your body finally forced the words out, "Yes. please".

Jungwon smiled when he heard those words coming out of your mouth his lips were so soft They moved slowly against yours as she tilted your head slightly to better access your sweet mouth that she knew from lip balm to strawberry and the contrast of her mouth that still tasted like the chocolate cookie she had eaten before. A slight whimper slipped over your lips, your hands rose to wrap around his shoulders and immediately went to lightly tighten his hair when you felt him wringing around your suit pants with his cock around your center; His hand that was on your jaw moved along your body, His fingers played with the hem of your shirt before he pushed his hand down slowly and took it off you and left only with your bra and even that in a few seconds left your body and began to torture you the bud of your nipple with his mouth and with his teeth and with the other hand she lightly squeezed your other breast.

«God, this body is perfectly made for me» You had Jungwon take off his shirt as well, you didn’t know where to put your hands, they were going from his shoulder, to his hair, to his biceps, a gasp left Jungwon’s lips to the feeling of your cold hands on his warm stomach. Jolts, whimpers, and little moans came out of your lips as he kept giving you pleasure in both breasts, he only moved away slightly but his hand kept on squeezing and stroking the other breast while mumbling, «You’re so beautiful fuck.»

"more," you whined, any appropriate response was now far from your mind because you felt so good with Jungwon, he leaned back and left a kiss trail along your breast, in your belly as his hands roamed before finally resting on the edge of your suit, «Lift up your hips for me for a moment, princess»

You slightly push your hips giving him a way to slowly lower your suit and panties. «You’re even soaker than before t/n, fuck.» You were seriously embarrassed and slightly covered your face with your hands but when he looked at you gave you a little kiss on the forehead «Don’t hide from me, I have already come a few hours ago and with me you can be safe and show yourself for what you are Y/n, relax.» one of his fingers slipped between your folds, a sudden jolt left you, he put two other fingers inside you, starting to pump them, curling them and easily finding that point in you that made you crazy.

You shouted Jungwon’s name and thought that this time you were seriously ready to take his cock, he made you come and tease yourself a little more clipboard and you raised your hips as sensitive as you were, Splashes of slimy cum went around Jungwon’s fingers and when he pulled out from your pussy he showed you that he brought it to his tongue and sucked it slightly and you at that moment could die because it was a scene so dirty but sexy as you had never seen it in your life. He pulled down his boxers in one fell swoop and you saw his hard cock slapping his stomach, the tip was red and slightly dripping, your mouth made an O, You had already taken it in the mouth but fuck that member would ruin you instantly when it was inside of you. He stroked his hand a couple of times and pumped it lightly and with his usual arrogant and cheeky smile on his lips looked at you noticing your reaction. " Are you sure I can fit it all?" Jungwon laughed at your words «Are you ready or do you want to pull yourself up now, sweetie?» You nodded at his words pushed your hips forward and slowly slid, wrapping yourself in your tight warmth.

«Fuck, you’re so tight» When he pulled out but pushed back in faster and you couldn’t think clearly, your mind was confused and completely focused on how well you were feeling at that moment, About how Jungwon was kind to you but at the same time, he was hammering you.

"Jungwon is so beautiful" moan as your hands move on his biceps then go on his back and scratch him slightly things if you were his kitty. «I imagined this moment for months Y/n masturbated and thought of you, when I touched myself I thought of you, fuck you are a fucking witch»

In the room you could hear only the sound of rain and your skin rubbing skin against the skin «I’ll make you come on my dick. I’ll make you forget Minjae, any other guy who tries to get with you», sighed when you felt how it pumped fast inside of you and was completely destroying you; "Jungwon, pls" his hand came down to press on your stomach, your eyes that swirled backward for the pressure « Fuck, I’ll thank that prof for putting me in pair with you, look how well you’re taking my dick, princess» He stopped for a few seconds inside you when he saw that you were closing your eyes.

"no-no-no-no pls, don’t stop".

«Don’t you dare to close your eyes Y/n, you have to see how well your pussy takes my cock, you have to remember who is fucking you and not as a good girl but as a slut» His words got you even more excited and he grabbed your legs holding them there tight around him and started moving again, the new angle made you feel his cock deeper. " Fuck, oh my god", you whined, throwing your head backward against the pillow. had practically locked you under his grip, unable to do anything but take it all and retake it. With a firm push, he made him push against your G-spot, a gasp left your lips as his hand began to torture your clitoris.

"Oh my god, Jungwon is too much," you stammered, trying to hold back the tears and moans that were coming from your mouth, he accelerated more, hitting repeatedly the perfect spot. You felt your high grow and electric shocks of pleasure covered your body and your heat, "I am close to it", Jungwon made small circles in your clitoris stimulating him to the maximum «I also princess, want to fill with my sperm all your pussy» He accelerated his thrusts and you held him so strong «Fuck, sweet hold me so strong. I’m going to come and fill you up to the last drop» his voice was choked and his hips slammed against yours while he shot his sperm inside you while you came at the same time.

When he came out of you he lay down near you and embraced you and filled you with sweet kisses around your face, on your forehead, and in your hair, you were perfect for him and no one would ever have seen you so extremely excited and lost to someone else.

While he hugged you with the sleep that was starting in your body, he said softly «You will remain my rival N*1 but you are the most important and beautiful thing that has happened to me in the last few months, Y/n»

You hugged him even more and you put your head down in the groove of his neck and gave him a little kiss, "You too have become really important to me, but tomorrow morning I don’t want to be seen as your new conquest but something more for you Jungwon" a slight smile formed on Jungwon’s lips and gave you a kiss in the head. «You have always been mine in my head since they put us together Y/n, what did I tell you first? I wanted to be yours and you mine, so don’t worry that tomorrow I’ll still be yours for a long time.»

Comments are appreciated

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artstennisracket · 3 months ago

Text

request: please I’m begging you write more parts to the Patrick Zweig Coach fucking his much younger client I’m dying that was too good

tennis coach!Patrick x fem reader, part 1

cw: nsfw (18+), d/s overtones tbh, dom!patrick, dirty talk, minimal use of daddy kink (reader says it once), not proofread

You were sore for that next week of practice. Getting fucked by a tennis racket handle wasn’t on your bucket list but you’re not particularly mad at it either.

You thought the dynamic would change between you and your coach but it’s like he went right back to ignoring you.

It wasn’t until Wednesday’s practice when you were preparing for a tournament you had this weekend.

You were genuinely out of it. You were going to be versing Anna Mueller and she’s currently ranked number 4 for women’s juniors. Sometimes you got in your head about things even if you knew how good you were.

During your serve drills Patrick could tell you were off. By the time you got to scrimmaging you weren’t giving it your all to beat him like you usually would.

On your next rally Patrick catches the ball instead of returning your serve. He walks to middle meeting you at the net, “You’re not fucking with me right? What’s going on?”

You sigh, wiping the sweat off your forehead with the cardigan tied around your shoulders, “No I’m not I just- I keep thinking about the tournament this weekend.”

He gives you a tight lipped smile, pushing his sunglasses up to rest on top of his head, “There’s nothing for you to worry about. Anna Mueller is all show, no real skill. And she’s a racist bitch, you’ll beat her into the ground without even trying.”

You let out a chuckle at that statement, “I can’t tell if you’re trying to make me feel better or light a fire under my ass,” I mean who doesn’t want to beat their opponents, especially the racist ones.

He smirks, “Why can’t it be both?,” He takes a step closer, the net still in between you two. You instinctively take a step closer just to be in his personal space. He bites his lip quickly, you can tell he’s thinking. He leans over to whisper in your ear, “And I said if you were good this weekend, I’d give you what you want.”

The smell of cigarettes fills your senses. A smell you usually hate but for some reason it just works for him. You let your eyes slip close momentarily to imagine what your first time with Patrick would be like because jesus fuck—

“We don’t have all day L/N, let’s go,” He calls out from his place on the other side of the court. Shit, how long were you standing there with your eyes closed?

You half jog back to your side of the court and take your cardigan off. When did it get so hot?

You turn quickly to look at him again, only to see him quickly push his sunglasses back down and clear his throat. Oh he was totally staring.

Now it’s your turn to smirk, “Ready Zweig?” You call out right before you serve an ace.

…

The tournament had just finished and you absolutely crushed Anna Mueller. You tanked in the first set but came back and won the last two by a good margin. You were so zoned in you didn’t even notice when Patrick had moved his tennis bag to his lap to cover up his problem.

You were so hyped at the end, you felt like it was the best tennis you’ve ever played. Not to mention the points you’d win from this to boost your own rank.

You looked around the stands for Patrick but he was nowhere to be found. You scrunch your eyebrows together in confusion but you’re sure you’ll see him later. Your parents had covered two hotel rooms for you both for the weekend.

You made your way back to the hotel so you could take a shower and change. Once you finished there was a knock on your door.

You opened it to find Patrick leaning against the door frame with a CVS bag in his hand. You took a second to take him in. Curls damp, like he just took a shower. You were able to actually look in his eyes for longer than a millisecond (since he’s always wearing sunglasses) and they were beautiful. A mashup of light hazel and green. He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans that stretched over his long legs. And he was only wearing socks? No shoes.

“You gonna let me in or you wanna keep checking me out?” He smirks. You move to the side so he can walk inside.

You close the door as he takes a seat on the bed after placing the CVS bag on the night stand.

“Where’d you go? After my match.” You ask sitting next to him so your thighs are touching.

He shifts so he can face you, “Had to get some stuff, take a shower,” He gestures to the bag on the nightstand.

“You didn’t even see if I won or not, and what did you just have to get from CVS?” You ask. To be honest you’re not even really paying attention, just enjoying being this close in his personal space. Maintaining eye contact so you can fully drink in this dreamlike experience.

“Just condoms,” He’s says so causally like it’s toothpaste or something.

You scrunch your eyebrows together, “Don’t they sell that at the little hotel store downstairs?”

He smirks again, “And how would you know that?”

Blood rushes to your cheeks, “I just wanted to check I guess. And you never answered my questions.”

He shrugs, “I already knew you were gonna win and downstairs they didn’t have magnum.” He says so casually AGAIN. Fuck.

He sees the “oh fuck” realization on your face so he has to ask, “You’re not a virgin right?”

You shake your head no. Quite the opposite actually but he just made you nervous for some reason.

He moves his hand to rest on the back of your neck, his thumb resting just above your ear, “What happened to the confident little brat who made me fuck her with a racket huh?”

Fuck. You move forward to crash your lips together, you’ve been waiting for this for too long to get nervous now.

He kisses you back and it’s almost bruising. Tongue, lips, and exchanging spit. It’s filthy. He pulls you back before he says, “On your knees.”

You followed that command quicker than the speed of your serves. He chuckles softly and you look up at him, hoping this time you’d get what you want and not a tennis racket.

He stands up so your face to face with his clothed bulge. You can feel your mouth start to water subconsciously. He unzips his jeans, pulling them down until they fall at his ankles. Now he was just stood in front of you in his boxer briefs and a much more prominent bulge.

You felt some need to prove to yourself so you start to mouth at his bulge through his underwear.

“Fuck, woah slow down. Did I say you could do that?” He groans while grabbing your hair and pulling you off.

“No but I just—“

“I thought you said you were gonna be good? You were good this whole week, don't mess it up now.”

“Okay I’m sorr—“

“First rule is you only speak if I say so okay? Or if I ask you a question. Got it?”

You nod before you realize he just asked you a question. You rush out, “Yes yep got it.”

He smiles, “You’ve always been a pretty quick learner.” He moves his hand from your hair back to his own underwear. He pulls them down slowly, letting his hard length spring free and fuck. You knew he was big but this was a lot.

He continues, “Now, I’m gonna let you suck my cock but don’t try to be too ambitious. If I want you to take more, you’ll know. And if you need me to stop for any reason just pinch me.”

You nod staying in your place on your knees. He grips the base of his cock, rubbing his tip along your lips. You want so badly to open your mouth, lick the tip with your tongue. But you can’t, not yet.

“You can open.”

Before he even finishes that statement your mouth is open and you’re sucking on the tip. Little kitten licks in between. You refrain from trying to swallow him down because you haven’t been instructed to yet.

He moves his hand back to your hair, pushing you further down. You choke a little, but try to keep calm so your gag reflex doesn’t act up.

He lets out a low groan as he keeps pushing in, “Fuck,” and then he pulls out almost all the way before he presses back in.

This time you try to suck to the best of ur ability. Making a mess, spit building up in your mouth, covering his cock, drooling out of the sides of your mouth. You still haven’t taken it all but you bob your head up and down, covering the expanse of his cock that he’s allowed you to take.

The wet sounds of you choking, gasping, and breathing hard around his dick filling the room. Soon he pulls all the way out letting out an exasperated, “Fuck babe, gotta prep you now. Get up.”

You stand up, knees feeling sore from the roughness of the hotel carpet.

“Take off your clothes and lay down on your back.” He says, stroking his cock aimlessly, waiting for you to lay down.

This is the fastest you’ve ever taken your clothes off, record speed. You get into position, laying down on your back. A few pillows behind you so your back is elevated. He lays down on his stomach between your legs, his long legs hanging off the side of the bed.

He lets his finger run down the middle of your folds, gently grazing your clit, before he pushes into your hole.

“You’re so wet already, maybe I didn’t have to prep you,” He says before adding a second finger, pumping in and out of your slick hole.

He picks up the pace and you are a moaning mess. Moaning, whining, and whimpering just from his fingers as he keeps pressing against the right spot.

“Does that feel good baby?” He asks before he inserts a third, curling his fingers inside you now.

You nod before you remember that you have to answer verbally, “Yes please more, feels so good.”

He speeds up his pace, assaulting the soft spongy spot inside of you until you feel something build up in your stomach. He keeps eye contact with you, biting his lip as he watches the pleasure take over your face.

“Ah, ah, ah—Patrick wait I- fuck” You say in a high pitched whine as a rush of liquid gushes out of you, squirting all over his fingers.

Patrick pulls his fingers out, “Knew you had it in you,” he smirks moving up on the bed to capture your lips in another kiss.

This kiss is slow, like he’s taking his time to explore your mouth with his tongue. He bites your lip as he pulls away from the kiss, “Good?”

You nod definitely a little out of it. “Yeah,” you reply, your volume barely above a whisper.

“Still wanna keep going?” He asks, pushing your hair back behind your ear.

You nod, biting your lip as you smile, “Duh. Didn’t get what I want yet.”

He scoffs playfully, “I could argue that you did.” He grabs the CVS bag and opens the box of condoms, taking one out. “Would you like to do the honors?”

You nod again, sitting up on your knees and opening the wrapper. He strokes himself a few times to get himself back to full hardness before you roll on the condom.

He moves you to lay down on the other (dry) side of the bed and lines up with your entrance. He drags his tip along the center of your folds, teasing your hole, “Sure this is what you really want?”

You let out a huff, “Yes Patrick, how many times do I have to tell—shit“ Your cut off as he pushes inside of you.

He looks up at you as he bottoms out, “You still good?” He grunts out.

“Stop treating me like a baby, I can take it,” You gasp out. It really is a lot. You feel ridiculously full. Almost comparable to the tennis racket. “You literally fucked me with tennis racket.”

“Ungrateful as always,” He shakes his head before he pulls out. You whine at the loss before he flips you over so your face down ass up.

“You were good all week, now you wanna be an ungrateful slut,” he tsks before slamming into you without warning.

“Oh fuck,” You basically scream out at the abrupt intrusion. He grabs both your wrists, holding them behind your back, before he really starts fucking into you.

He grunts out, “I was trying to be nice but you keep testing me, fuck you feel so good.”

He continues holding both your wrists in one of his massive hands while the other hand grabs your hair. Pulling you up so he can whisper in your ear, “So you’re gonna take whatever I decide to fucking give you, got it?”

You let out a whimper from how overwhelmed with pleasure you feel, “Yes fuck I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He smirks, “Too late for that.” He lets go of your hair letting you fall back into position. He grips your hips and starts pounding into you. Each thrust more bruising than the last. Hard and fast. It feels like you’re gonna break.

You go from leaning into the thrusts pushing yourself back against him, to almost trying to pull away. Not because you weren’t enjoying it but because your g-spot was starting to get overstimulated, it was starting to feel too good.

“Fuck baby, can’t run away now. This is what you asked for right? What you’ve been drooling over for the past two years huh? Bet you used to touch yourself thinking about this right?”

You can’t even think straight enough to realize he’s asking a question. It’s not until he comes to a halt to say, “I asked you a fucking question.”

Now that he’s still inside you, your brain finally processes what he said. “Yes fuck, Patrick I— yes, I did, I did. Please don’t stop please,” You whine.

He picks up his pace again as tears start to fall down your face. He can hear your sniffling mixed in with your moans, “Aw baby, are you crying? Does it feel too good?”

You nod. Your face smushed against the pillow that’s catching your fallen tears. You let out a weak, “Yes daddy,” and you don’t even realize what you just said, too fucked out to register.

“Shit why would you— fuck,” His hips stutter, “Christ you’re so fucking—fuck baby you’re gonna be the end of me.”

“Please please, so close,” You whimper. You can feel yourself on the edge until-

“Cum for me baby, want you to finish all over my cock, this what you’ve wanted for two years right? Show me how much you needed it.”

And that’s all it takes. You feel that sudden rush again before you squirt all over Patrick’s dick. He curses under his breath pulling all the way out in between thrusts to fully see it. That image is enough to have him spilling inside the condom, his thrusts stilling.

He pulls out slowly, taking the condom off and throwing it away. He grabs a small hand towel from the bathroom and comes back to you on the bed half asleep.

“I figured you’d be too tired to shower but are you sure you wanna sleep here? My room’s right next to yours and my bed isn’t…yeah.”

You nod sleepily, “‘Mkay, there’s a connecting door I think?” You lazily gesture to the door in the middle of the wall.

“Oh that’s…convenient.” He pulls on his jeans haphazardly, taking out his key card. He leaves your room, leaving the deadbolt on to hold the door cracked open, and you hear some shuffling outside. You assume he’s unlocked the connecting door on his side.

He comes back to your room, unlocking the door on your side, revealing direct access to Patrick’s room. He picks you up with ease, probably from all those years of tennis, and sets you down in the middle of his bed.

It’s chillier in his room. Probably has the AC blasting, so you curl in on yourself trying to get comfortable enough to sleep again.

He makes his way over to the thermostat to turn up the temperature a little. Then he takes a beat before he decides to cover you with the comforter, tucking you in.

“Better?” He asks as he lays next to you, on top of the comforter because he’s still hot.

“Better,” You mumble back before you fall asleep

#mel writes✍🏾#mel’s inbox💌#challengers #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #dilf patrick #patrick x reader #patrick x you #patrick zweig x y/n #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig smut

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girl-lostconnection · 1 month ago

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Long awaited continuation to this, let’s go while John Price’s multiverse spirit has me by my fucking hair

John is a man of many qualities.

Discipline, integrity, cold head and sharp mind.

Relatively stable code of ethics he tries to apply when it doesn’t cost him an arm and a leg in the process.

He likes staying this way and he likes how high he managed to climb given his absolute hatred of bureaucracy and strained relationship with higher ups in command.

And a general he once murdered in cold blood.

On the other hand, now he is able to add to his CV “efficient and quick thinker”, so if the day comes and army boots him out, he’d be able to get a job at a place that probably frowns upon on unnecessary murder and his choice of coping mechanisms.

John knows a tad more about self control than most people — the itch under his skin to fight and chase ever present, at times even more intensely than in Simon.

And Simon is a wolf, for fuck’s sake, man is a stalking predator through and through.

But it was always different for John, a deep seated hunger, a need to climb to the top and stay there no matter what it takes and no matter how many he’d need to send tumbling down.

After all, he just does what his gut tells him.

No one’s bloody business if his gut also has sharp teeth and heavy tail and less patience than he would have liked.

John drinks his whiskey until his head is blurry. He usually stops at the glass of two fingers and a wank, getting it out of his system before his systems decides to reboot itself by urging him to maul the first soldier that looks him in the eyes.

This time John finishes three glasses, scales rippling when he stretches out, his own smoke clouding his head.

Not a good look for a captain. But tonight he isn’t one.

Tonight he is just John. Just a man.

A man you seemingly don’t want, but at the same time can’t help but enjoy teasing.

Taunting him with the promise of intimacy that John cannot have, showing affections that aren’t for him. Kisses that he can’t get.

For one or another reason.

It’s been almost three months now since he has given up trying to figure out what was so wrong about him.

Why isn’t he good enough. Why don’t you like him.

On most days he doesn’t have some proper time to spiral into thinking about his own inadequacy or about you kissing him just as sweetly as you do kiss Johnny. As you kiss Kyle.

Bit unfair it all feels, if he’s being completely honest and a little selfish. Bit unfair and a whole lot less serious than his brain makes it out to be.

Unfortunately today is one of the few precious days when he has more than enough time to think or spiral or preferably finish his bloody paperwork because the thing has been mounting on his desk.

And people need these forms filled out yesterday.

John will probably fill them out tomorrow. Maybe.

Maybe not. He isn’t sure, as of right now, your frame pulling his whole focus off the necessary work.

You aren’t doing anything per se, you just write the reports he needed help with, you are being a good teammate, you are being useful. And yet, your presence there is enough to distract him.

Well, maybe not your presence exactly.

There’s something different about your scent today.

Not the regular salt and sweat, that he already got used to. That he had spent the last few months imagining himself licking it off your skin.

Its not even the faint sea smell you bring back in your hair after taking a swim for an hour or two.

Nothing about this scent is sharp or cloying,

This one is sweeter.

Practically tender, melting on John’s tongue.

Soft with something that makes him want to do things he can’t, wrapping around John’s head like a veil, coating his mouth with sheen of something he wants to lap up.

Drives him mad that he doesn’t know what it is he smells. His tongue darting out to taste air, to moisturise his dry lips, heavy head of his tilting to the side.

Something is different today with you, seal. Something has changed and it makes the wires in his head sparkle, buzzing him back to life.

Pulling him out of an ice bath of his self-control he painstakingly forces himself into.

Doesn’t help that your usual unfazed and unbothered demeanour is not with you (why is that, he wonders) — twitchy and antsy, your knee jerks up and down under the table, shaking it with how fast you do it.

Real pity there is no one else around, but John.

No Johnny to ‘check your vibes’, no Simon to settle you down, no Kyle to kiss it better.

Just him.

Just the leftovers you apparently don’t want and the captain you don’t like.

Thought scrapes the inner side of John’s throat, acid bubbling, poison spreading. Bitter taste in his mouth almost enough to make him scowl.

But the instinctual, subconscious urge to care for a distressed member of the team is stronger than his wounded pride and heavier than his stone heart.

So his whole body is angling towards you, voice a little softer when he tries to find out what has changed. What makes you so jittery, seal?

You tick like one of Soap’s favourite bombs, timer running down, quickly approaching zero and maybe you can feel that too.

Somewhere deep under your belly button, the pull that makes you try and get away from him.

Interesting reaction.

“Sergeant?”, John murmurs quietly, his voice snapping you out of whatever haze you were in, your head turning to him quickly.

You don’t stop jerking your knee. Almost like you don’t even realise that you are doing it.

“What’s wrong? You hurt?”, he gets to the point without tiptoeing around it, no use dancing in circles if he can shorten this whole thing, cornering you to your desk. Cutting the exit off.

No way out the corner but through him now.

“Nothing, sir. I’m sorry. Must be tired”, you murmur, throat working, ring finger of yours twitching to tap down on the wood of your desktop, your eyes as bright as ever.

Only the blunt and usually so casual tone of yours cracks when you try to change the topic and move on, when you shake your head at his questions, trying to dislodge John off the matter.

Like hell you would, he can smell that something is happening.

John tilts his head to the side when you are so close he can practically taste the sweat on your skin, his tongue flickering out to lick dry lips and hide back, eyes heavy with hunger you have been taunting for the last…how long has it been, love? Was running around plenty, didn’t you?

Alcohol stomps on the ice of his self-control, cracking it for you. Welcoming you in his deep waters.

He nuzzles in your neck, hands sliding under your sweater, groping the tummy of yours, fingers sinking into warm flesh.

Clicking his tongue at your shaky ‘captain, wait—‘ because there is no need for all of that. The chase and games, the play pretend and teasing. He can smell how much you need a hand right now.

How much you need him.

So it’s true that fortune favours the patient because John has had an angelic temper when it comes to you. And this is the result.

His fingers now fondling your tummy, lips finding the juncture between your neck and shoulder, his beard tickling the heated sensitive skin.

That must be the gift for all the time he had to wait for you to finally come around.

John already knows what it is that changed when he yanks your shirt up, when he pulls the cups of your bra down, when he gets handfuls of your fat tits, thick calloused fingers of his massaging the flesh.

Someone’s having a little problem, don’t you, love?

John already knows what it is that is wrong with your mood because he kisses your neck and you shiver, panting, still trying to whine something about people seeing or someone walking in.

No one will, love.

Don’t you know it?

Komodo dragons thrive on hierarchy. And there is not a person in the whole base who’d like to push him when he’s this fucking busy.

He kneads the flesh of yours, thumb rubbing the areola. Coaxing out what he smelled this whole fucking day, what almost drove him to eat you alive before your own control came apart at the seams.

Milk beads on your nipple, John’s fingers working more of it out, his disappointed ‘tsk’ in your ear makes your knees buckle when he props his chin on your shoulder to see it all better.

So full and so hot under his touch, you’ve been having trouble with getting it out on your own, haven’t you, sergeant?

John knows for a fact that Soap is away for at least two weeks now, John knows even better that you are just out of options.

There literally aren’t anyone else but him who can help. It’s not that he is special or loved or even reliable. It’s the lack of options better than him.

Good news is: John doesn’t care anyway.

You wouldn’t believe it if he told you from just how many hopeless pits he crawled out in his days.

A stacked seal with attachment issues who needs help milking is definitely not the worst of it, love.

He tuts at your attempt to cover up or apologise when his grip tightens and milk squirts out on the desk.

All over the documents he was supposed to pass on yesterday.

Now he will probably pass them on never.

He will either need to suck the milk of yours out of the paper or burn it the fuck down.

John just might burn the bloody forms and tell the administration that he lost them. After all, you aren’t going anywhere.

And no one is coming to save you back until the end of next week.

You have no choice but him, sergeant. No one else to gift your kisses to but your captain.

The bottom of the barrel that you just grazed.

You know, maybe you should have been more careful, sergeant. Maybe you shouldn’t have dived this deep in his waters.

Now you just might not come up back for air.

John rolls his hips into you, lazy, stretching out until he is fully in and then out he goes, his thumb drawling slow excruciating circles on your clit, his thumb patting it like you are a dog that earned a treat.

And not a seal hybrid big enough to curl John into a fucking pretzel.

Though how much good your size is now when John is drooling over the fat of your hips and rolls of your stomach?

How much good your big frame is when your captain is still on the top?

“Didn’t fuck you how they should’ave, eh, sweetheart?”, John rumbles, tongue licking his lips, his hips slotting against yours like he was made for you. Like this is how it was supposed to be from the very beginning. “Can’t sate this greedy hole, can they? Need something bigger, need someone older”, he braces on a forearm above your head, hips of his rolling into yours, his tail wrapping around your leg and pulling you back on his cock.

No running now, no slipping away.

But you whine, clamping down on him, your nipples swollen and sensitive when he cooes and licks one, not yet pulling it in his mouth, not yet giving you this relief.

Just a lick, aye? A taste for your captain, for all his troubles.

John licks off the bead of milk, his system rewiring as he rams back inside of you, his grip tightening because oh, this is so much better than he could have expected.

For one dangerous moment years of his discipline crack down so hard that he almost bottoms out in you, imagining you swollen with a baby. His baby. His seal.

“Wonder what face Simon would make if he finds out I knocked up his seal”, John rumbles, pressing his hips down on yours, feeding you every thick heavy inch of himself. Until you claw at his back, eyes rolling back in your skull.

Getting drunk on just the feel of his cock splitting you.

God, he should have taken you like that the moment you decided it’s a good idea to kiss his lieutenant in front of him.

Should have taken you to the office and should have given your ass a dozen stinging smacks.

Should have taught you some fucking manners, but he wanted to be nice, he wanted you to like him and come to him yourself.

He wanted you to give it to him voluntarily. Because maybe you didn’t actually think he was the worst of the pick. Because maybe you’d want him outside of his attempts to earn the trophy of your affection.

Well, too late for that now, isn’t it?

John clicks his tongue again when you try to crawl away — too overwhelmed to think clearly, too hungry for a thing you are too ashamed to ask for.

Just your luck that John isn’t used to asking anyway.

His lips wrapping around your nipple, sucking it in, lapping at the bud of it, milk of yours blooming on his tongue — rich and thick, dripping down his chin, staying in his beard.

You really are going to cover him all in yourself by the end of it, sergeant.

Might force the man to buy you a ring to lock you down for good.

John groans, his vision crumpling around the edges when you cunt spasms around him, your thighs tensing up, hips rolling into his.

Here comes the first one.

See how nice and easy it was?

If only you have admitted from the very beginning that you like your captain.

If only you stretched around him this nicely, whimpering ‘captain please’ like he is the only one who can give you what you want.

“You are the only or are you just one left?”, vicious voice at the back of his mind sneers and John has to pull his mouth off your tit, least he risks to bite through the tender skin, marking. Permanently.

It doesn’t matter why you let him do this for you.

‘Why’ has never mattered and he should have realised it a long time ago instead of sulking around and hissing at his own men.

What matters is that you let him spread you open and force you down.

What matters is that John’s jaws close on your neck and your pussy squelches so loudly it’s almost enough for him to let it get to his head.

John presses a palm on your back, pressing down until you arch for him, not taking your attempt to wiggle away for an answer.

Why would he when you haven’t been true about your needs ever since he met you?

Why would he when your body is so much more honest than you are — your pussy drools for him, back arches — tits now pressed to the bed, ass up in the air for him to feast.

John knows, sweetheart, your nipples are too sensitive to get rubbed like that.

He is being too rough, he is taking too much and he is too hungry.

All of these are true, sergeant, every single word you are right now choking out when he pulls you right back by the hips.

He slams into you from behind, humming when you cry out trying to get back up, because where do you think you are going? No, love, you’ve been teasing him for months now.

Naughty naughty seal, thought there wouldn’t be any consequences for a fit you threw? Thought that John wouldn’t get to have you one way or another?

Or maybe you hoped that someone else would be here with you now?

He clicks his tongue when you reach for your clit, his palm smacking yours away, pushing you face down in the mattress. No, sweetheart, bad seals don’t get to touch themselves.

If you can’t come from him fucking into you, pressing your heavy leaking tits into the bed then you aren’t coming at all.

See how unfair that sounds? See how mean he has to be with you now?

He wouldn’t have needed to do that if only you came sooner to him.

If you haven’t made him bite down on your throat instead of carefully eating from your open palm, accepting whatever you were willing to offer.

But you didn’t offer a single fucking thing so he had to take the matter in his own hands.

And look where it has gotten him.

Bouncing your ass down on his cock, your greedy fucking hole squeezing him so tightly it drives him half feral.

He’d need to train you proper, sweetheart, show you how to take your captain to the hilt like a good sergeant should.

John will show you, he’s only happy to teach.

And it’s only fair if he gives you an example by stretching out your favourite Johnny right in front of you.

Only fair he gives you a demonstration of how his team did some good seal to dragon communication before you came around.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #girl.snippets #captain john price x reader #cod john price #captain john price #communications au #seal!reader

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ild-rllrcstr · 14 days ago

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Your Call part 1

Lewis Hamilton X You / slow burn / 2.7K

part 2 / part 3 / part 4

Summary You were the bright intern at Mercedes when you first met Lewis Hamilton, where a shared spark grew alongside rising trust. But just as things started to shift, life pulled you away from F1 and Lewis. Years later, Lewis ran into you again on the paddock, both of you in complete different colours. Old flames reignite on the opposite sides of the competition, and the story picks up where it never truly ended.

Warnings None A/N Hey! I'm back from my mini vacation and also back with another series! I have another idea in preparation at the same time!! Let me know how you like them! I'll love to hear from you!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

You first met Lewis in the last year of your studies. You were hired at Mercedes as an intern, working with race engineers to collect, monitor, and analyse all the data streamed live during all Grand Prix sessions. Lewis’ career was flying, a world championship after another.

“Y/N, this is Lewis. Lewis, this is our new telemetry intern.”

“Welcome to the team.” Lewis stood up and gave you a smile and a handshake, eyes sharp but friendly.

Throughout many moments you had in Mercedes, that was the first and an unforgettable one.

You were sharp and quick, which is why you were hired in the first place. You understood the importance of your job, and every minute you spent in Mercedes, you took it as a precious opportunity to learn. Your manager was very satisfied with your work, and you were integrating really well into the team.

It was three months into the mission, you’re more than used to the whole routine and work. The more you were into it, the more you were addicted to the numbers. You always stayed behind, reviewing graphs from Lewis’s stint, highlighting heat spikes and tire degradation notes to include in the post-session report. You were so focused, you didn’t hear footsteps behind you until someone speaks.

“You always stay this late?”

You turned around, startled. It was Lewis leaning in the doorway. He was leaving and saw the light still on.

“Got to stay ahead,” You said, gesturing to the graphs. “These numbers don’t sleep.”

He stepped in, nodding toward the screen. “You're the first intern I’ve seen that actually analyses post-session data without being told to.”

“I’m not here just to have fun and have that title on my CV,” You said quietly. “Or else I would have chosen something easier.”

That draws a deeper look from Lewis. Not the surface-level polite one, but a slow study. He was intrigued.

“So why here?” he asked, pulling a chair beside her. “Why this job?”

You hesitated. “It kind of started with me trying to prove my teacher wrong in high school by rebuilding a telemetry dashboard. Then the more I’m into my studies, the more I wonder what it would be like to hand someone like an F1 driver real-time answers to make a difference and not just guess them.”

Lewis’s smile is slow, impressed. “You rebuilt a dashboard in high school?”

“I don’t know where my school got that teacher. He’s full of nonsense, the dashboard took me, I think a week, and I got him speechless in front of the whole class.” You smiled at the thought of your teacher’s face.

“Sounds like we should’ve had you years ago.”

The moment thickens, something in the air between them shifts. Still professional, but charged. Respect threaded with quiet admiration.

Lewis leans back in the chair, gaze still on you, and for a few seconds, the only sounds are the quiet hum of the server and the soft clicking of data refreshing on your monitor.

“What’s this spike?” he asks, pointing at the screen. You glance over and smile.

You answered his questions one by one, he was amazed at how precise and clear your answers are.

He huffs a soft laugh, impressed. “You're good.”

You shrug, suddenly aware of how close he is. “Just doing my job.”

“No, you don’t sound like an intern. You sound like someone who’s going to run the garage one day.”

That makes your chest ache a little. Not because of the praise, but because you believe it too, even if you don’t dare say it out loud.

You lower your gaze. “Thanks. That… means a lot coming from you.”

He stands, like he’s about to leave, and you figure that’s the end of it. But before he steps through the doorway, he glances over his shoulder.

“We’ve got the track walk at 7 a.m. tomorrow. If you’re around… walk with me. I want to hear more about that dashboard.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you sitting there, blinking at the doorway like he’s just handed you the keys to something far more dangerous than data.

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The paddock buzzed with nerves as Q3 loomed. The desert sun in Bahrain dipped low, casting golden light across the pit lane. You sat in front of the telemetry data, surrounded by glowing screens and layered graphs, tire temperatures, brake bias percentages, throttle traces.

Something didn’t add up.

You leaned in closer. There was a heat spike on the front-left brake in Lewis’s last flying lap. Not catastrophic, but off. A few more laps at that pace, and it could lead him to something worse.

You didn’t hesitate.

“Front left temperature needs to be checked, sector 2.” You said into the radio calmly.

The voice on the radio crackled back. “Copy, Y/N.”

Thirty seconds later, the live feed caught Lewis braking earlier than expected, clean corner, no wobble.

In the garage, the engineers nodded in sync. The fix worked.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. No matter how many times you successfully fixed something, or how sure you are about anything, you still got nervous every single time looking at Lewis driving live on the screen.

Later, as the team began winding down post-qualifying, Lewis strode into the debrief room still in race suit, unzipped halfway, sweat-darkened. He was scrolling through something on the tablet until he looked up and saw you.

“You spotted it.” He said, more a statement than a question.

You glanced up, hesitant. “Front-left brake spike. I thought…”

“You thought right,” he interrupted, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That probably saved me a tenth.”

She tilted her head. “Try two.”

Lewis raised an eyebrow, impressed. “You keeping score now?”

“Only when we’re winning.”

He laughed. Just a single, quiet breath of it. But it stayed with you longer than it should have.

Before he turned to go, he added, “Nice work today, Y/N. Really.”

Simple. Professional. But as he walked out, he glanced back once, just for a second, long enough for you to wonder if he always did that… or just with you.

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“We’re getting inconsistent numbers from the tire sensors. Better to play it safe, send Lewis out on the usual set.”

Around the table in the briefing in Miami, a senior engineer, Darren, was arguing about an issue Lewis had during the free practices.

You reviewed the data, mind clear as daylight, trying to explain your opinion.

“The numbers aren’t wrong, they’re just delayed. It's not a pressure problem, it's the timing of the data.”

“We’ve been doing this a while. Data like that doesn’t lie.”

Darren said dryly. He was not at all convinced by your opinion. Well, he’s been hard on you for a while now. There were times you tried to challenge his opinion, and he did not appreciate the idea of it.

“And I’ve been tracking this issue since Friday. It's not a fluke. If we don’t adjust, he won’t have the grip when he needs it most, it is identical to the one in Suzuka.” You tried to stand your ground, you trusted your analysis, and you stuck with it.

The strategy analyst on the side hesitated but pointed out the data, “Darren, she could be right. These check out on her analysis...”

“That’s a maybe. I’m not risking a quali lap based on a corrected assumption from an intern.” Darren lashed out without hesitation. And it did hurt.

“It’s a pattern. I know I’m new, but I’m sure I’m not wrong on this.” You tried to keep your voice stable. You know Darren can take the call, but you really didn’t want to let that go.

“Are you sure about this?”

Everyone turns. Lewis is still half-suited up, holding his gloves. His tone is calm but unwavering.

You looked at him, paused, “Positive.”

“Then we trust her.” Lewis nodded and calmly said, like it was a very easy decision, like it was nothing, just citing the obvious.

“If she sees something we missed and it checks out, we listen. I’d rather go out on new softs and her numbers than lose another run to cold tires.”

Darren looked pissed but he gave in on Lewis’ words. “Fine. We’ll go with new softs. But if this doesn’t work…”

“Well.” Lewis cut in politely, preventing Darren from saying whatever he was going to say. “…then the whole team’s dinner tonight is on me, but if she’s right, only she gets the invitation”,

There was a brief silence as the tension eased, and even Darren couldn’t suppress a small, reluctant smirk.

Lewis glanced at you with a nod, quietly adding, “You’re right for speaking up.”

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The car was barely back in the garage when the first sector time lit up green.

You leaned in instinctively, eyes darting between telemetry and live feed. Second sector, green again. Your breath hitched. Darren’s silence was the loudest thing in the room.

Then, the final sector. Purple.

The timing screens updated, and Lewis’s name jumped to the top of the board, provisional P1.

A ripple went through the garage. Low whistles, muttered wows. One of the data analysts clapped the back of your chair lightly. You barely registered it, still locked on the numbers, rechecking your assumptions even though you didn’t need to. You’d been right.

“Confirmed. Lap’s clean,” someone on comms said.

“Good call,” Lewis’s voice crackled through your headset. “Car felt dialled in. Nailed it”

You tried to keep your smile controlled, but it tugged at the corners of your mouth anyway. Darren was staring at the screen, arms crossed. He didn’t say anything for a second, then finally,

“…Alright. You’ve got good eyes,” he muttered, almost like it hurt. “Keep running the data. If you see something again, don’t wait for me to ask.”

It wasn’t exactly an apology. But it was something.

You gave a small nod. “Will do.”

As people dispersed, riding the high of the lap, you caught Lewis stepping out of the car, peeling off his gloves with deliberate calm. He looked over at you across the garage, that same subtle, unreadable expression on his face. Then, just a small, private nod. Like a signal.

And later, when the session wrapped and the sun dipped low over the paddock, your phone pinged with a simple message and the location of the restaurant.

“Promised you a dinner, 19:30.” – Lewis

You laughed under your breath. That quiet confidence you’d felt earlier? Now, it burned bright. You weren’t just the intern who got lucky.

You were the one who got it right.

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You almost didn’t believe it until you were standing outside the restaurant.

Not the usual team haunt. This place had no logos, no crowd, no media camped out front, just soft lighting, a polished wood sign, and a sense of quiet exclusivity. You double-checked the location Lewis had sent directly, just to be sure.

When you walked in, the hostess didn’t even ask your name, just smiled like she was expecting you and led you through the near-empty dining room. Then out to the patio, where Lewis was already seated at a corner table, casual in a dark button-down, wine already poured.

He looked up as you approached and smiled, not the camera-ready one, but something smaller. Warmer. “Right on time.”

You eased into the seat opposite him, trying not to feel like you’d just stepped into another universe. It was refreshing for Lewis to see you out of the Mercedes uniform. “I kind of kept waiting for someone to tell me this was a prank.”

He laughed, low and genuine. “No pranks. I meant what I said. You caught something none of us did. That lap? That wasn’t just a number call. It was the right instinct under pressure. Most people freeze. You didn’t.”

You glanced down, fingers brushing the stem of your glass. “I was almost to the point of doubting myself, but… You backed me.”

Lewis tilted his head, studying you. “I didn’t give you anything. I just made sure people heard you.”

For a moment, the conversation settled into something quieter. The clinking of glasses, the low hum of conversation around you, and the way the city lights reflected off the patio railing. You weren’t just having dinner with Lewis Hamilton. You were here because you’d earned your place.

Midway through the main course, something beautifully plated that you barely tasted, he leaned back and said, “So. What do you really want to do in this world?”

The question hit with quiet force. Not small talk. Not polite. It was a real ask.

You met his gaze, steady this time. “I think I really like it here, and one day I want to be on the pit wall. Not just running numbers. I want to make calls. Win races.”

Lewis smiled like he already knew that answer was in you, he saw how your eyes shone. “Good. Because this sport needs more people who see things others miss and insist on saying the right thing”

He raised his glass.

“To the next right call.”

You clinked yours against his, heart steady now.

“To the next right call.”

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The next few weeks blurred into race weekends, debriefs, strategy meetings, and late nights buried in data. On paper, nothing had changed. You still had your intern badge, still made coffee runs when asked, still got left out of the higher-level briefings sometimes. But in the quiet spaces, the ones that mattered, it was different.

People listened when you spoke, now.

Not always. Not with full trust. But there was a pause that wasn’t there before. A second glance at your screen. A manager asking, “What’s your take?” instead of brushing past you.

And Lewis, he kept showing up in moments you didn’t expect.

After a practice session in Monaco, you stayed behind in the garage late, re-checking tire degradation data just because something felt…off. You looked up and found him leaning against the wall across from you, sipping water, still in his fireproofs.

“You know you’re not being paid overtime, right?”

You snorted. “I know. Just… trying to be sure.”

He didn’t move for a while. Just watched you work.

“You always get that look in your eyes when something’s bugging you.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What look?”

He smiled. “Like you’re halfway between a conspiracy theory and a breakthrough.”

You laughed, maybe a little too loudly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He stepped closer, peering over your shoulder at your screen. “It is.”

These moments kept stacking up. Quiet. Intentional. Never crossing a line, but always toeing the edge of one. A shared glance across the garage. The way he always seemed to find you after a good session, or a bad one. The subtle shift when you entered a room and his posture changed, ever so slightly, like the centre of his gravity had moved.

You didn’t talk about it. Neither of you needed to.

But the team noticed.

One afternoon during a long delay at Silverstone, Darren passed by your desk, looked between you and the still-warm headset Lewis had just handed off, and said, “You’ve got his ear now.”

You looked up, wary. “Is that a problem?”

He paused. “Only if you waste it.”

And you weren’t going to.

Later that evening, while the garage cooled and the crowd filtered out, you found Lewis outside, leaning against a stack of tires under the fading sky. He didn’t look surprised to see you.

“You’re starting to scare them a bit,” he said, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You raised a brow. “Because I’m right, or because I’m near you?”

He gave a quiet laugh, then looked at you fully. “Both.”

Something hung there between you for a beat, an acknowledgement.

“You ever think about staying?” he asked. “After the internship?”

You swallowed, heart kicking up. “All the time.”

He nodded slowly. “Good. Because I’ve already told them they’d be idiots to let you go.”

And just like that, something else shifted, unspoken but understood. You were still an intern. Still not fully inside the circle. But you were getting closer.

To the team. To the pit wall.

To him.

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#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x y/n #f1 x you #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine

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myfriendpokey · 3 months ago

Text

letters from my friend the strangler

1. we glimpse pleasure as we do movements of consciousness: fleetingly, in the creation and destruction of forms. if pleasure couldn't be faked we wouldn't have an entertainment industry. the idea that pleasure is static and knowable and can be doled out in fixed proportions is why we have the sad and mangled little tribe known as videogame players - people driven nuts by a boredom and unhappiness they can't even articulate, since by rights it shouldn't even exist. art as sentimental education; art as an education in pleasure, this thing we don't quite recognize or know what to do with.

2. the idea that the world could be otherwise is the basis of fiction; but as a result we can't look at a work of fiction without knowing that it, too, could be otherwise. that it might be wrong, could be adjusted, that whatever it excludes could have been contained and whatever it contains might just as well have been excluded. to me this is why art can only mean something in a negative sense, by omission or evasion. a mask that doesn't have anything behind it is still a mask. when we put the things we love into fiction we raise the suspicion that they might not be real; when we leave them out we wonder if they might be real, after all.

3. the problem with puzzle games is that their skills translate too well to a CV. art should only ever make you less employable than you were before.

4. condemned to live by metaphors of the balanced checkbook - individual, family, studio and state, all have to make sure the money going out matches the money coming in. yet we survive on dwindling lines of credit extended to us by the dead generations, specifically by actions that themselves refused to make this kind of sense. and the only way to extend credit is by our own actions that make no sense, the ones whose benefit we'll never get to see.

5. when we say experimental art we tend to mean whatever makes no money. and so just by existing this work performs a useful purpose, by demonstrating the gap between what's materially possible and what's economically possible. most people already live and work inside this gap. trying to maintain the facade of self-sufficient economic life, one propped up behind the scenes by innumerable acts of care. but what i appreciate about the experimental is the suggestion this everyday distance is just wider than we know. odd and slippery things rush from it, misshapen, "formless" - we ask ourselves what these are, who they can possibly be for. but just by existing they attain the terrible authority of a thing in the world, an unseen aspect of the universe. experimental art is good because it tells us we don't even know what material possibility might look like.

6. for me, playing a videogame is generally less interesting than remembering one. memory is not "playful" the way videogames try to be - we don't choose or want what sticks with us, and what sticks with us is often what videogames themselves don't seem to choose or want, their clunky material qualities and dead zones. play as a dream of unalienated life becomes grotesque as soon as it's identified with leisure, the other face of work. for me the truth content of videogames is the way that they're unfree, the way they're faithful to an unfree world.

7. the most basic belief in videogame spaces: that what we're doing is basically good, that everything will work out in the end. what kind of games would you make if you no longer believed this was the case?

8. all i want from a videogame is the sense that people making it did things because they wanted to. that they were willing even for a second to omit the guarantees of effort, craft, or form, and bet it all on the strength or folly of their miserable desires.

9. from a comics journal essay on yoshiharu tsuge: "there is a difference between Hollywood talking about making movies (a world involving hundreds of millions of dollars, thousands of people and some of the most recognizable names in the world) and some guy crouching over a table taking pot-shots at someone who snubbed him at a comic con […] the insularity simply feeds into itself, becoming ever more distant from the rest of the world." to me this is the problem of contemporary culture writing in miniature. it craves something more "real" than art, than the aesthetic. but the things it takes as real are themselves abstractions: money, jobs, celebrity. efforts to get real by talking about money will fail if they don't recognize money itself as unreal, a garbled dream of more general productivity; say, the kind embodied by someone making unprofitable comics at the kitchen table, or doing any other kind of work, conversation, thought. good work will not have investor backing. all of it - from local acts of care to organized blockades of port used for weapons shipments, or performing unnamed activities at a healthcare CEO - relies on a recognition that the regime of money is not truly universal, that acts outside its logic can still be performed, even provisionally. compare to a supposedly hardened industry realism that spends all its time weepily combing through box office receipts to find proof of its own experience. art is the opposite of money - something that's not "real" but that nevertheless exists, and which in doing so proves other kinds of realism might be possible.

10. the denial of shared or public life turns into a kind of white flight from communication itself, now seen as hopelessly contaminated by the other. to look someone in the eye and know they're looking back is unendurable. the crying laughing emoji's eyes are shut - the enemy is so far beneath contempt they don't even exist, except as a distant flicker at the edges of this joyous infant world. what's left when communication itself seems a few syllables too close to communism? the endless work of announcing you exist beyond its terms. gurning, sneering, winking at the invisible audience, in your suburban house covered with security cameras.

11. when criticism itself becomes means-testing all we can do is point to the sheer useless abundance of the aesthetic. if despite everything else i still find myself coming back to art, it's because i find attempts to think about it a little less grotesque than attempts not to.

12. we can't buy back our life, it must be stolen.

#vg writing #strangler #strangling

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idrawweirdstuffnominors · 2 months ago

Note

Hello! I saw your girl dads Bill & Josh posts and I’m wondering if you can do one for Girl dad Jerry & Pete if you please 👉🏾👈🏾

(Absolutely!! I'm sticking true to pete

Pete and Jerry girl dad headcannons !

Pete DiNunzio girl dad headcannons-

1. Old-School Protective to the Point of Madness

Pete doesn’t believe in letting his daughter walk home alone. Ever. She’s 17? Doesn’t matter. “You think some creep’s gonna stop and ask your birth certificate before being a freak? I’ll pick you up.”

2. Calls Her Nicknames Like ‘Principessa,’ ‘Bambina,’ or ‘Dollface’

And says them with real warmth. It’s half mafia-movie, half genuine affection. But if anyone else calls her that? Suddenly Pete’s shouting and cracking his knuckles.

3. Slightly Sexist But Not Malicious

He’ll say things like “This is guy stuff” when working on the car—but if she shows interest? He’ll grumble, sigh, and then teach her everything while pretending it was his idea.

4. Thinks Every Boy is Garbage

“Boys are wolves, sweetheart. They’ll act sweet, then next thing you know they’re borrowing your Switch and ghosting you with some girl named Kaylie.” He gets offended when she says she likes someone. “Him?! He’s got a dumb haircut!”

5. Surprisingly Sentimental About ‘Tradition’

He wants her to know the family recipes, how to make a proper sauce, and the importance of sitting at the table. “Sunday dinner’s not a suggestion—it’s a rule, capisce?”

6. Yells A Lot, But It’s Never Serious

He raises his voice over everything. Lost the remote? Shouts. Someone looked at her funny? Shouts. She’s having a rough day? Shouts at whoever caused it—but never at her in anger. If he does, he apologizes through actions, like her favorite ice cream or fixing something she didn’t even ask about.

7. Obsessed with Making Her ‘Tough Enough’

He teaches her to throw a punch “just in case” and insists she keeps pepper spray in her bag. “I’m not raising some pushover. You hit first, talk later—unless it’s a teacher. Then call me and I’ll hit them.”

8. Doesn’t Know How to Express Emotion—So He Cooks

If she’s upset, he won’t say much. But the kitchen will be full of garlic knots and pasta within 30 minutes. “I’m not good at the feelings crap, alright? Just eat.”

9. Thinks the School System is a Scam

He’s supportive, but suspicious. “SATs? Total scam. Just make sure you’re smart enough not to get screwed by a car lease or some finance guy named Todd.”

10. Would Drop Everything For Her, No Matter What

He acts all gruff, but if she calls and says, “Dad, can you come get me?”—he’s already halfway out the door, jacket half-on, yelling into his phone: “Who do I gotta yell at?!”

“The Incident”

It happened at CVS.

Pete had taken his daughter out to grab chips and Saw II—totally normal dad-daughter outing—when she froze in the aisle with a weird look on her face. Then she muttered something like, “We need to go home,” and walked off holding her hoodie around her waist like she’d been shot.

Pete followed, confused and already bracing to fight whoever made her upset.

Pete:

“What happened? You get sick? Someone give you a dirty look? You need me to yell at a manager?”

She kept walking. Face red.

Daughter:

“I need… stuff.”

Pete:

“…Stuff?”

Daughter: (mumbling fast)

“Girl stuff.”

Pete blinked. His brain short-circuited. Then—

Pete:

“Oh. OH. Jesus, Mary, and all the saints.”

He whipped around like someone had pointed a gun at him, nearly knocking over a display of Tic Tacs. A nearby grandma raised an eyebrow. Pete glared at her like she was to blame.

---

Back at home, Pete paced the kitchen like a soldier trying to defuse a bomb.

He'd dropped a Walgreens bag on the table—filled with the wrong kind of pads, some Midol he wasn’t sure was right, and, for some reason, a mini stuffed bear holding a heart that said "Feel Better."

She sat at the table, mildly horrified.

Pete:

“Look, I’m not good at this. When I was your age, my ma just yelled at me to do the laundry and left a whole bunch of stuff in the bathroom like it was some sacred rite.”

Daughter: (snorting)

“Dad, you didn’t get a period.”

Pete:

“Not the point! The point is, this is... nature. Biology. A monthly hit job from your uterus. And I wanna be clear, I ain’t squeamish, okay? I saw your cousin Dominic break his pinky playing stickball and I fixed it with a spoon and duct tape. But blood? That just shows up?! Randomly?! And it’s fine??”

Daughter:

“Yes. It’s fine.”

Pete: (waving his hands like a madman)

“I mean Jesus Christ, you’re just walking around with this time bomb in your body like it’s no big deal?! You’re twelve!”

Daughter:

“I’m thirteen.”

Pete:

“Oh that makes it better!”

He paused, breathing heavy. Then glanced at her. She was fighting a smile.

He ran a hand down his face, sighed, and finally sat across from her.

Pete (quieter):

“…I just wanna help. I don’t know how, but if you need anything—anything at all—I’m here. You wanna cry and throw something? I’ll buy you a pillow to scream into. You want ice cream? I’ll buy you the good kind, not that no-name crap.”

She nodded.

Daughter:

“Maybe just… the right kind of pads next time?”

Pete:

“You got it, Principessa. I’ll go in there like it’s a freakin’ mission from God. I’ll get wings, no wings, maxi, ultra, whatever the hell—I’m learning the code.”

He stood up, grabbed his keys, and headed for the door again.

Pete:

“And if your stomach hurts, you get the heating pad with the duck on it. That thing’s magic. Don’t ask me why.”

Daughter: (grinning now)

“Thanks, Dad.”

Pete: (gruff)

“Yeah yeah. Don’t get sentimental on me. I’m already losing hair.”

JERRY STOKES AS A GIRL DAD – HEADCANONS

The Sensible One:

Jerry reads all the parenting books. He doesn’t just wing it—he checks forums, medical sites, and probably even signs up for the baby tracker app. He may not talk about his feelings, but he shows love through quiet preparation.

Subtle Encouragement:

He’s not loud with praise, but when his daughter tries something new—drawing, coding, learning guitar—he gives the soft “That’s actually really good,” and keeps her art on the fridge for way too long. Her old crayon Pikachu is laminated.

The Period Talk? Done Over Text.

He panics too much to do it in person. She gets a calm, slightly clinical message that says:

> "Hey. You might need some products in the bathroom. Everything's labeled. You can always text me if you need more. Also I got chocolate."

And then he disappears from the house for 45 minutes to let her breathe.

Board Game Nights are Sacred.

No phones, no excuses. Jerry insists on family game night—sometimes D&D-style campaigns with just the two of them, where he lets her be chaotic and overpowered. He plays the dungeon master like a pro, even if she steamrolls his traps.

Teaches Her How to Build a PC.

Not because she asked, but because he wants her to know. “One day, your laptop’s gonna die mid-exam. This will save you.”

Protective But Non-Threatening.

If she dates someone, Jerry doesn’t threaten them with a shovel like Pete might. He just asks weirdly specific, nerdy questions until the kid gets nervous and leaves. “What’s your opinion on 'The Thing' vs. 'The Fly' remakes?”

If they answer wrong: "Huh. Interesting." (Meaning: "You're done.")

Worried Sick but Pretends He’s Not.

When she’s sick, he hovers silently, leaving water and soup at the door. If she says “I’m fine,” he nods—but 30 minutes later, she gets a thermometer, lozenges, and Vicks on her nightstand.

Matching Fandom Shirts.

He never forces his interests, but if she likes something he does (like Doctor Who or Star Trek), he gets so excited—buys them matching shirts or mugs. Pretends it’s no big deal, but his smile gives him away.

Teaches Her to Stand Up for Herself.

He might be soft-spoken, but he doesn’t want her walked all over. He teaches her to calmly, effectively shut people down. “You don’t need to yell. Just be smarter than them. Trust me, it ruins their day.”

Loves Her Fiercely, Quietly.

He may not be the most expressive, but his love is steady. Her favorite snack is always stocked. Her weird niche interests are researched. He’s the dad who stays up fixing her cosplay, or making sure the Wi-Fi is perfect for her big presentation.

Ten Going on Trouble

Jerry’s Saturday plan had been simple: coffee, fix the loose shelf, and maybe rewatch The Wrath of Khan for the fiftieth time.

Then his daughter came stomping down the stairs with all the rage and devastation only a ten-year-old girl could contain.

Daughter:

“I hate Mia. I hate everything. And my bangs look stupid.”

She collapsed dramatically on the couch, face buried in her pillow. Jerry blinked from behind his mug.

Jerry:

“…Okay. That’s… a lot. Do you want a snack, or—”

Daughter:

“NO.”

Pause.

Jerry:

“…Okay.”

He set his mug down. Sat on the edge of the couch like it might collapse under the weight of his discomfort.

He’d fought trolls in MMORPGs. He’d debated Star Trek continuity on Usenet forums.

But this?

This was terrifying.

Jerry:

“Alright. What happened?”

She sniffled, pulling her face out just enough to breathe.

Daughter:

“Mia said I was bossy. And that I always act like I know everything. And then I tripped in front of everyone during gym. And my hair is dumb. And I just wanna go live in the woods and be a cryptid.”

Jerry blinked.

Jerry:

“…You know, being a cryptid doesn’t come with indoor plumbing.”

Daughter: (snorting despite herself)

“Maybe I deserve to stink.”

Jerry:

“No one deserves to stink. That’s a universal truth.”

He got up and came back with a granola bar.

She didn’t say thank you, but she opened it and took a bite.

Jerry:

“You’re not bossy. You’re assertive. Confident. Big difference.”

Daughter:

“Mia said I talk too much.”

Jerry:

“Well, if that’s true, it’s genetic. Sorry. You come from a long line of over-explainers.”

She gave him a look.

Jerry:

“I once gave a girl a twenty-minute lecture on the plot holes in Phantom Menace. She still kissed me after, though.”

Daughter:

“Ew.”

Jerry:

“Exactly. But the point is—you’re allowed to be smart. You’re allowed to have opinions. Don’t shrink yourself because some kid can’t handle it.”

There was a pause. She fiddled with the wrapper.

Daughter:

“…You think my bangs look okay?”

Jerry looked at her. Truly looked.

They were uneven. She’d clearly taken scissors to them herself. One side was higher than the other and flared out like a confused anime character.

Jerry:

“They’re… avant-garde.”

Daughter: (groaning)

“So they’re bad.”

Jerry: (gently)

“They’re bold. But we can fix them. If you want.”

Daughter:

“…Yeah. Okay.”

She slid off the couch and held out her hand. Jerry took it like it was the most serious mission in the world.

Jerry:

“To the bathroom, Commander.”

Daughter:

“I should’ve just gone full cryptid.”

Jerry:

“Maybe next time. You’re still young.”

#eltingville epilogue #the eltingville club #epilogue jerry #epilogue pete #pete dinunzio #jerry stokes #welcome to eltingville #eltingville writing #headcanon

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count-on-mi · 4 months ago

Text

AU Twice IS Side Story “Interview” (Twice Mina)

‘Thank you, Miss Kwon, today’s interview is over. Thanks for coming. Honestly, you have a really high chance to be employed.’ You stand up and offer your hands for shaking.

‘Thanks, Mr. Y/N, just call me Eunbi, I am looking forward to work with you too.’ Eunbi shakes her hand with you, you can feel her finger is flirting your palm, you two just smile before you sending her out. ‘It’s going to have so much fun.’ You talk to yourself.

As your original secretary has resigned, you are now employing a new one to replace her, among all the shortlist candidates, Eunbi is the most suitable, she is experienced, have a high ability on working, of course her big tits are another bonus point for you to consider hiring her.

‘Boss, the last interviewee is here, should I invite her in?’ Your subordinate Sana calls you through the extension.

‘No, Sana, you can let her go. I think Eunbi, no, Miss Kwon would be the most suitable candidates. You can also contact HR for drafting the contract, thanks Sana.’

‘Sorry, you can’t come in…’ You hear some noise outside, You stand up to see what is happening. The door is opened, Sana and a pretty woman enters your room. ‘Sorry, boss, the interviewee desperately wants to enter your room, I can’t stop her.’

‘Please Mr. Y/N, please at least give me a chance.’ You turn around to look at the interviewee, a pretty woman, much younger than Eunbi, although her tits are much smaller, her bodies is hotter, especially her ass, it’s so big that you want to spank it hardly. The interviewee blushes when she see you are scanning her body.

‘Take a seat, madam. You have earned your chance, I will give you five minutes to convince me.; You sit down and signal Sana to leave your room.

Thank you, Sir. I am… I am Myoui Mina, you can call me Mina or Minari, I am a Japanese and a fresh graduate from University of…’ You feels so fun so you just interrupt her, ‘Sorry Miss Mina, sorry to interrupt, but isn’t the things you mentioned all included in your resume? May I see it first? Remember you only have 5 minutes, take your time.

‘Oh, yes, sorry Mr. Here’s my CV, ah… Sorry.’ Mina take the documents from her bag, but she is too nervous, and she just falls all her documents on the ground. She seems panic and immediately kneels down to pick up the document. ‘Sorry, Mr., sorry Mr.’ Mina keep saying sorry. At your vision, you can see Mina’ ass arcs up as she is crawling on the ground. ‘Wow, such a great ass.’ You talk to yourself in mind, you can even see her pants in the dress, you feel your cock starts to erect, perhaps you just do not have sex with your girlfriend Nayeon for too long, the sight of Mina’s ass and pants make you feel horny, you start imaging how would her pussy look like.

You untied your belt and slowly started jerking yourself under the table while enjoying the view. Mina is different form all the girls you have hooked up with, She is very innocent but having a hot body. Your balance in your hearts slowly turn towards Mina. You are still masturbating while Mina is presenting herself, her innocence makes you turned on. You moan her name lightly, imaging her serving you under the table.

Mina witness your face change to red so quickly, and hear you keep saying her name. ‘Sorry, boss, did Minari doing something wrong, please give me a chance. I need this job, I don’t want to back to Japan.’ Mina is so worried and she stands up and walk towards your seat.

‘No, Mina, sit down, don’t get that close…’ You already near your orgasm, so your hands stroking faster and faster, not wanting to stop.’ Mina stands from her seat.

You heart nearly pop out of your heart when Mina is approaching you. You consider to stop but the way Mina leans over toward you make you feel like she’s the one that stroking you. You stares on her exposed cleavage as she bends down.

‘Please stop staring me so intently, Mr...’ Mina blushes and turns her head down. ‘You think I am really good looking?’

Seeing Mina has overcome her shyness, you are more excited, you want to see how the innocent girl would reacts, your hand strokes faster, your sight fallen in Mina’s cleavage, you feel your cock starts to throb, you need to release it desperately.

‘What are you hiding under the table, Mr. Is it other candidate’s resume? Mina walks towards you and grabs the handle of your chair, she wanna check what you are hiding. Mina’s breast is now right in front of you face, you can smell the scent of her perfume.

Mina finally discovered that you are masturbating to her, she wanna push your chair back, but it’s just too late, you reach your orgasm and thrust your hips, you cum waves of cum on her clothes.

You two stare at each other, don’t know what you can say.

‘What did you just do to me, Mr. It’s… It’s all over me, oy my god.’

‘Ok, Mina, let’s calm down, I should clean it up first, you can do it Mina.’ Mina cleans her finger before grabs a tissue box and kneels down in front of you. Mina starts to clean you still erected cock with the tissue, your cock twitches when she is stroking you.

‘Can you stop moving, Sir?’ Mina seems frustrated that you cock keep twitching in her hand.

‘It’s a part of test for the interview, let me see how you can do it.’ You tease her and just sit on your chair, let her clean your cock.

Mina thinks a while, them she use another hand to grab you base, squeezing it lightly, make sure it don’t move anymore. Meanwhile, Mina is still stroking your cock with tissue, wanting to clean you completely. Your cock is still sensitive from the previous orgasm, the sensation is so good, you feel another wave of pleasure is building.

You can’t hold on anymore, so you let the pleasure overtakes you and you cum in her hand again. ‘Ah, Mina, you are doing a good job.’ You thrust in her palms, aiming for extend your orgasm.

‘Again, why would you cum before I clean you properly? Is it all of them?’ Mina blushes again and stop stroking you, she cleans her fingers and then stand up, unsure what she should do.

You keep turned on by Mina’s innocence, you decide that she is the most suitable choice as your secretary, you already forgot about Eunbi’ s large breast, it is not hard to find a secretary with great body, it is much more hard to find a totally untrained young lady, it is an achievement that you can train a young lady to your plaything.

You stand up and grab her arms, ‘Mina, if you want to get the job, there is one more test for you, ready?’ You slowly guide her lay on your table. ‘A secretary need to help the boss to ease his stress away.’ You guide her hands to your still harden cock, ‘Can you feel how much stress I am having? It’s time for you to do the duty.’ You smirks and start rubbing her clit with your cock.

‘I don’t know how to do it, sir. Ah…, it feels so strange. Ah…’ Mina moans slightly and hide her head on your shoulder. You feel her pussy starts to get wet, you align your cock and ready to thrust in. “Just let me do it, relax, Mina, is it your first time?’

Mina shyly nods, ‘ Yes, sir, please be gentle… Ah’ Mina stops as your assault her, you thrust all in and your break her hymen. ‘Ah, stop, boss, pull out, it’s so pain, pull out!’ You ignores Mina and gently kissing her, you hands slightly play with her nipples, distracting her pain and allow her to adjust cock.

‘Ah, it feels so strange, I don’t know how to explain it… Ah…’ Seeing Mina is ready, you pull out and thrust in again. ‘Ah, what is this feeling.. Faster Sir, it feels so good.’ You stop again, and teasing her.

‘Why do you stop, its feeling good, please continue.’ Seeing Mina is addicted to your cock, you are satisfied. ‘Is little Mina wanting boss’s cock, does Mina wants to be Boss’s secretary.’

‘Yes, boss, please give it to me, Mina always belongs to Boss.’ Waiting for this answer for a long time, you start fucking Mina again. ‘Ah, yes, boss, Minari is so full. Minari loves your cock so much.’ Mina moans loudly as you fuck her real quick.

‘No, boss, please stop… Mina is going to pee, No, no!’ Mina soon reaches her first orgasm of her life. Her walls tightly wrapping you, you are struggle to thrust in, but you do not stop, you keep fucking her, chasing your own orgasm. You thrust all in hardly, and you feels like you have entered the entrance of her womb, the suction is much more strong compared to her pussy. You can’t hold on anymore, and cum all of your cum in her womb. ‘Mina take it all, be Mine!’ You moan loudly when you cum in her.

‘Yes, Boss, Minari will always be yours…” Mina hugs you tightly when she reaches her second orgasm. You pull out and see a mixture of white and red dripping from her pussy, you took her virginity.

‘Yes, yes, Eunbi is no longer a suitable candidate, I have decided to hire Myoui Mina. Ah… Yes, please help me for the documentation works. Thanks Sana.’ You end the call, and looks at Mina under your table who is giving you a blow job. ‘No, Mina, use your tongue, not your teeth.’

‘Sorry, boss, I will do better next time.’ Seeing Mina’s innocent face, you are turned on again, you put her on your table and start fuck her again. ‘Maybe I should train your another lips first, Mina.’

‘As your wish, boss, please use Minari as you want.’ Mina starts moaning again.

#minasaiyatis #twice smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #female idol smut #m reader #twice imagines #mina smut #twice mina

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