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beginningofwonderland · 6 months

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Stay Focused - San

Pairing: university student y/n x office worker San

Genre: smut with plot (MINORS DNI!)

Word Count: 12.5k (I don't know what happened)

Summary: Your mother insists on getting you a tutor for your studies. You want to resist until you meet Choi San, your tutor. His sweet talk and good looks make you focus on anything but your studies and you do everything to finally catch his attention in the same way.

Warnings: San is a few years older (5 to be exact), some nipple play, fingering, some orgasm denial, lots of dirty talk, blowjob (face-fucking leaning), protected sex, mirror sex

The reader in this is so horny omg. Just straight up trash for San (relatable). Also very long build-up.

"Good is not enough in this family," your mother repeats to you for what feels like the 100th time. „Your grades have to be exceptional if you want to work in my business."

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you change your phone to the other hand to stir your pasta around. You just told her about your recent test results which of course are not satisfactory to her.

The problem is that you are actually doing pretty good. You never missed or failed a class, you passed all your courses with at least a good score and you had even fulfilled additional classes to broaden the spectrum of your studies. But just like she said: Good is not enough for her. She won't shut up about your grades until you reach 100% in all of your classes - which is basically impossible, especially in your field of study.

"Do you even still want to work in the family business?" your mother asks you provokingly. And the problem is, you do. You really do. Your mother is the CEO of a big pharmacy company and ever since you were a kid you followed her interest in chemistry. You even chose your pharmacy major without her influence. But now that you are taking the same path as her, she is all in your business about being the perfect little mini-her.

"I do, mom. I'm working hard on it, I promise. The next exam is in four weeks and I already started studying."

She makes a huffing sound before answering you: "You said that the last three times as well and still didn't get a full score. You should really get a tutor."

"Mom! I'm the best in my class. Why should I get a tutor? I'm doing great!" You are glad you're only talking to her on the phone so that she doesn't see the way your hands clasps over your face. She can't be serious with you. Getting a tutor with your grades is just embarrassing.

"But not great enough. You know what? The son of a close business partner recently started working at the company. He graduated a few years ago with an honour's degree and seems to be a very promising young man. I'll ask him to tutor you."

Your cheeks start to heat up just at the thought of how embarrassing the whole thing will be for you. Getting a tutor that worked for your mother is literally the worst case scenario. You feel like a high school student that doesn't pay attention in school and now gets scolded for it.

"I do not need a tutor, mom." You state once again but her mind is already made up.

"I'll give him your number and he will contact you. And don't you dare be rude to him, his father is very important for our business!"

You can't believe her words. Since when have you ever been rude to anyone she introduced you to? Your mother ends the call before you can protest any more.

Angrily, you fish a single spaghetti out of your pot to taste it. It's perfectly cooked when you munch on it in annoyance.

--------------------------------

This is Choi San.

Your mother told me you needed tutoring on your pharmacy classes and gave me your schedule.

I can teach you Tuesday and Thursday afternoon from 6PM. Would that work for you?

You fall back onto bed with a frustrated groan as you read the messages. She really asked him. Now you have no choice but agree to him tutoring you because your mother would kill you otherwise.

Typing a reply you take a deep breath. This will be such a waste of time for the both of you.

Hello! Tuesdays and Thursdays are good. Thank you so much.

You hate how pathetic you sound. What are you even thanking him for? You don't want him to tutor you and he was definitely forced by your mother so why even play pretend?

No problem. We can use meeting room 117 at the company since I reserved it for us. I'll see you on Tuesday.

You dread Tuesday every single day from now on. When it finally arrives you feel ridiculous as you enter the large building of your mother's company. You have been here countless times but you never thought you would get tutor lessons here.

Even worse is that your mother made you go greet her beforehand. She specifically texted you to visit her office before the appointment with Mr. Choi. You walk past her assistant with a polite greeting and finally enter her office.

The luxurious room sat at the top floor of the building with a nice view over the city. Sometimes you forget how successful her company actually is. It can be quiet intimidating.

"There you are," she greets you with a mere look up from a bunch of files on her desk. "I hope you prepared well for your tutoring session. Please don't embarrass yourself in front of Mr. Choi. His father is an important business partner of mine and he himself seems to be a very promising employee. I don't want my own daughter to make him think worse of the company."

Of course she only worries about the company. The idea that this is incredibly humiliating for her own daughter does not even cross her mind.

"Hello, mom. Of course I prepared well, I always do. I won't disappoint you."

She nods at you, satisfied with your answer before looking at her watch. "Then you should head to the meeting room. He is always ridiculously early for meetings so he's probably waiting for you already."

Great, you think to yourself. You hoped you would be able to grab a coffee beforehand.

"I'll go right away. Bye, mom."

You walk to the elevator with heavy steps and check your own watch. It's still fifteen minutes until 6PM so there's plenty of time to grab a coffee before, no matter what your mother might say.

Entering the elevator you select the floor of the meeting room with the plan to walk to the coffee pantry first. Half-way down, the elevator stops on a different floor. When the doors open you almost choke on your polite "Hello" as your eyes take in the person in front of you.

Walking into the elevator is easily the most attractive man you have ever seen in your life. Dressed in a tight pair of dark pants and a perfectly fitted dress-shirt the handsome stranger repeats your greeting with a small bow and a mind-numbingly attractive smile. His eyes carry a little glimmer even behind the round pair of glasses he wears and as he pushes back his black hair you feel like swooning.

You have to keep yourself from staring when he takes his place in the elevator and both of you wait for it to move. Just now you realize he hasn't pushed a button, which means he is heading to the same floor as you. Out of the corner of your eyes you can't help but watch him.

He is a few inches taller than you but appears even bigger due to his broad frame. You wonder where that man even finds clothes that fit his stature with his broad shoulders and tiny waist. He checks his most definitely expensive wrist watch before looking at the display counting down the floors.

When the elevator doors open with a ding, you almost jolt. You were so caught up in thinking about how good he looks that you didn't even notice arriving on your floor. The handsome man gestures for you to step out first with another deadly smile in your direction.

"Thank you," you barely breath out as you step out of the elevator in front of him. It feels like the air outside is ten degrees colder. Without looking back you head to the pantry of the floor. You need a coffee even more than before now that you can only think of that guy from the elevator. There is no way you can concentrate on tutoring now without some caffeine.

The benefit of being the CEO's daughter is having a card with unlimited access to the coffee machines so you happily press the button for a black coffee. At the familiar buzzing sound you can finally relax and take a deep breath. No man has ever made you so flustered before just by existing. Maybe you should visit the office more often if that was the kind of employees your mother hired.

Taking your coffee into one hand and your study bag into the other you turn around to head to the meeting room. Caught up deeply in your thoughts you almost run head first into the person behind you.

"Woah, careful there. You don't want to spill that coffee do you?" his voice is smooth like honey, with a joking tone to it. You blink up at him a few times before you find your words.

"I'm sorry. I was distracted."

The man from the elevator smiles at you and you feel your body warming up from the inside out.

"Don't worry, nothing happened." He looks you up and down quickly before holding eye contact once again.

"Excuse the question, but do you happen to be director Kim's daughter?"

You stare at him in confusion. "Yes. Yes, I am. How did you know?"

He moves past you, grabbing a cup from the pantry himself and turning on the coffee machine before he answers:

"You share her eyes. But more importantly, your bag has a pin of the pharmacy faculty of the university and because I'm supposed to meet her daughter for tutoring on this floor in - " he checks his watch again: "exactly 12 minutes, I figured it might be you."

You are impressed. His looks are already enough to have your eyes turn into hearts but there is probably nothing that makes a man more attractive to you than his wit. But what hits you even more than that is the fact that THIS was your tutor.

I take everything back mom, I love tutoring. Sign me up for another year.

"Well, you figured correctly," you reply weakly, at a loss for words. "Nice to meet you Mr. Choi."

You put your cup on the pantry table to reach your hand out to him. He takes it with a smile.

"Nice to meet you too, Miss Kim. I was going to get the two of us some coffee but as I can see you already helped yourself."

Oh, so he's a gentleman as well.

"Next time you should let me take care of that," you said showing him your free access card. "I happen to own the key to infinite coffee."

"Does the caffeine addiction come for free with that as well?" You chuckle at his joke.

"I think it's the requirement to get it in the first place."

"Well then I will happily let you get us coffee next time."

Next time, you think. The reality that you will be seeing this man on a regular basis hits you.

For a second the two of you just smile at each other. Then Mr. Choi notices that his coffee is done and he grabs the cup.

"Let's head to the meeting room then. I wouldn't want to waste your time."

You sir, can waste my time any day of the week, you think to yourself but obviously keep silent as you follow him to the room.

He holds the door open for you and you settle down onto one of the meeting chairs. You always hated these things. They are designed to make you sit upright and therefore terribly uncomfortable. You desperately want to fold one of your legs under yourself like you always do at home but you have a good image to keep. After taking a seat across from you he puts his bag onto the table and looks at you expectantly.

"So what topics exactly are you struggling with? It's been a while for me but I'm sure I can help."

"To be honest with you, I don't really need help on anything."

San raises his eyebrows behind the round glasses on his nose. "What do you mean?"

You sigh, not knowing how to explain this dilemma best. "My mother made me get a tutor because she believes I need better grades. In fact I'm the best of my year with perfect attendance and an average of 95%. She says that everything under 100% is not enough which is why she must have thought of you as a tutor."

San just stares at you with a peculiar look on his face. He looks almost impressed from your words.

"I knew director Kim could be quite strict but I had never imagined that extent. I'm sorry she made you do this, a 95% average is very impressive in the pharmacy field."

"Says someone with a perfect 100% graduation," you snap back, a little more spiteful than you want to. But San doesn't seem to take it the wrong way. Instead he chuckles in response. The sound sends shivers down your spine, his voice dipping way lower than you had expected it could.

"Trust me, that wasn't all brains. I only know my way around people." You don't doubt that last statement for even a second.

"Maybe instead of teaching I can give you some tips around the university. That would probably help you more."

Now you are interested.

"What kind of tips for example?" You lean forward resting an elbow on the table as you pick your cup of coffee up for a sip. It's still burning hot but you pretend you didn't just burn your tongue as you set it back down.

"Does Mr. Han still do the medicine lectures? He's been using the same exam template for years. Pharmacy students are just to selfish to share the results with the younger students. I'll look for my old exams later to give them to you."

Your mouth opens in awe. Everyone from the year above had told you Mr Han's exams were the hardest and it turns out they were just lying to intimidate you. The competition was real.

"These fuckers," you mumble beneath your breath but judging by his chuckle, San heard you just fine.

"Sorry," you excuse your language immediately with a small nod. He is still an employee under your mother and she told you explicitly to act well around him. Hiding your uneasiness you go for another scolding sip of coffee.

"Don't worry, darling. I won't go complaining to your mother about your language. You don't need to be her perfect little girl for me."

You almost choke on your coffee and have to force the liquid down your throat with an effort. You really wish they didn't but his words made your insides squirm. The amount of money you'd pay him to call you 'darling' again is surely an embarrassing amount. But good little girl also didn't sound too bad from his mouth.

"Thanks," you mumble, not knowing what else to say and stare onto the table to hide your flushing face. If you look at him with those slutty, round glasses right now, you're sure you'll combust.

You don't notice, but Mr. Choi eyes you up and down carefully before he resumes speaking. He smiles at your flustered state that obviously doesn't escape his sharp senses. Seeing your pretty face flush from only these few words, satisfies him deeply.

"Then how about that toxicology class? If Mr. Lim still teaches it, I know a few ways to get on his good side. He always picks favourites and it shows in the grades."

Mr. Choi continues listing off ways to better your grades around your professors. You can't help but be impressed. Not only is he obviously very intelligent but also great with people. Maybe what kept you from exceeding in your studies was your rather reserved nature in class.

"How about this," Mr. Choi finally proposes after teaching you some of his ways. "I'll get you my old notes and exams and with that you will surely ace all your tests. Then we can meet up for these tutoring sessions and while you study in peace I can get some work done. This way your mother is happy and we both profit from the situation."

You nod without hesitation. "That sounds like a great idea. Thank you so much, Mr. Choi."

He groans at your words, a sound that makes you react in a way you don't even want to put into words.

"Please don't call me Mr. Choi when we're alone that makes me feel terribly old. My name is San."

"Aren't you older than me though?" you ask back carefully. It doesn't feel right to call him by his first name.

"If 5 years are old to you?" he inquires with a slight teasing edge to his voice. You don't know if he's flirting with you or if you are just becoming a witness to this man's effortless social skills.

Truthfully, you are 22 and 5 years more don't seem that much to you. Still his way with words and the confident aura around him make him seem more mature.

"I didn't say old. Just older."

He rolls his eyes at your stubbornness, leisurely resting one of his elbows on the backrest behind him. "Just call me San, darling."

There it is again. That word single-handedly turns you into a blushing mess within seconds and you find yourself agreeing without another thought.

"Okay, San."

A satisfied smile spreads on his face and you marvel at the dimples that form on his cheeks. "Much better. Than how about you do some studying and I'll get some work done now?"

"Sounds good," you reply and start taking out your classwork. He could've told you to start stripping right now and you would've agreed without question. Damn you are down bad for him already...

It is a weird situation at first. You are used to studying around strangers in the library, but sitting alone in a room with San makes it hard to focus on your upcoming test. His eyes keep flicking from his work laptop across to you and you don't know if he's interest in the topic you're studying or you.

You yourself on the other hand are surely interested in him and you can't help but steal a few glances at him working diligently at his laptop every now and then. Even typing on his keyboard looks ridiculously hot on him with the way his slender fingers run over the keys.

After about two hours of you trying to keep your eyes on your notes San finally closes his laptop and stares at you until you reciprocate his look.

"I guess two hours is enough to make your mother think you studied, right?" he asks with one corner of his mouth slightly lifted.

"Sure," you respond weakly.

"I'll look for my old tests and will bring them on Thursday," he goes on as he stands up to pack up his laptop and bag. You also start gathering your study books.

"Thank you again," you answer lamely. But the promise of already seeing him again on Thursday excites you.

When you proceed to grab your now empty coffee cup his hands react quickly as he snatches it from you.

"Don't worry about that, I'll put those away," he's leaning over the table now, smiling at you through slightly closed eyes and you can't help but be entranced by his looks. "You should make sure to get home before it's dark outside. Want you to get home safely."

"Don't worry about me, I'll manage."

"Oh but I won't if something happens to you and your mother finds out you were last seen with me," he replies cockily as you two finally go to the door.

You have to chuckle at his remark. "Good to know I'm not the only one terrified of her."

"Everyone is terrified of her," he mumbles under his breath but you are already reaching the coffee pantry - aka your cue to go home.

"Can we use the same room on Thursday?" you ask as you stop in front of him. You make sure to brush your hair behind your ear in a nonchalant manner, knowing it shows your good angles.

"Yeah, I already booked it," San replies easily, eyes fixing yours from above. "But let's meet at the coffee machine here. I want to at least take advantage of that free coffee if I give you all my study secrets."

He winks at you at the last part of the sentence and it makes your insides twirl like on a rollercoaster. You give him a small smile through fluttering lashes. "So that's what you meant with a win-win situation: Endless coffee. Well it looks like I don't have a choice but to be your personal coffee machine."

You want to punch yourself right after that sentence leaves your mouth. How much more stupid could you possibly sound? Personal coffee machine. Saying you wanted to be his personal slut would have been less embarrassing.

But San doesn't seem to mind your awkward response. "Sounds good to me," he replies smoothly. "Then have a good ride home and I'll see you on Thursday."

"Until Thursday," you reply before you can say something stupid again and stroll off to the elevator with a small wave.

As soon as the doors close behind you, your head thumps against the steel wall. There is no way you will get any studying done with that man in the same room as you.

---------------------

Your next few meetings with San go on smoothly. You are always on time but he is still earlier than you, waiting for you at the coffee machine. You get both of you a coffee - sometimes two if you feel like it - and you two get to work in a comfortable silence sitting opposite to each other in the meeting room.

After San brought you his old exams you can now prepare exactly what you need to know for your next tests. But no matter how hard you try to focus on your studies, your eyes keep wandering from your books up to the handsome man working on his laptop.

You soon notice his seemingly endless closet full of tailored dressing shirts and perfectly matching pants. He always looks immaculate, not a single wrinkle on his shirt and his hair always neatly combed back. Even his skin is flawless to the point that you start questioning if Choi San might be a figment of your imagination.

Just like his outer appearance, his manners are immaculate. Like you already noticed on your first meeting, he is a sweet talker. Always knowing the right thing to say and never letting your conversation end in awkwardness.

Whenever he feels like taking a break you notice him starting to talk to you. At first he asks how your studies are going. Then he wanders off to the professors you two shared and how he managed to ace all his classes.

Your whole attention is glued to his lips. For one thing because the information he can provide you with is crucial to your academic development but much more importantly because his lips are the prettiest thing you have ever seen. They look so plump and smooth while he's talking that your mind can't help but wander to the other things he might be able to do with them besides talking.

If at your first meeting you were down bad for Choi San, one month later you felt like you were drowning and he was the last bit of oxygen left on earth. You wanted him with a passion that you didn't even know you were capable of.

But you couldn't have him. There was too much at stake. He still worked for your mother and if you made a move on him that he wouldn't reciprocate you would risk the eternal hate of the only woman that still held control over your life. And so far San hadn't shown any sign of feeling the same way about you that you did for him.

„You're stuck on that?" San suddenly asks you over the page of biochemistry that you've been staring at for a solid five minutes. You haven't spared a single thought on the topic in front of you. Your mind is only occupied by the thought of San leaning over you on the meeting chair, your chin in between his slender fingers as he smirks down at you. You hate him for having this effect on you when you so desperately need to focus on your studies.

You really need to get your thoughts together.

„Oh no I was just getting carried away," you answer, looking at him pointedly with a sly smile.

You tried little attacks like this on him before. A casual pull down of your shirt, stretching your arms to make it ride up over your stomach or even looking directly at his lips as he spoke. But no matter how daring you get you can never catch San slipping.

His eyes stay on yours only whenever he looks at you, his tone is always polite and never goes farther than a casual joke. You simply can't draw a single reaction from him and it drives you insane.

„Do you need a small break? We could get another coffee," he offers helpfully.

I don't want a damn coffee I want you to fuck me on this meeting table.

"I'd love to, but I'm already way too warm today. I fear the AC can't fight against the heat anymore."

It has gotten exponentially hotter over the past days and you can feel it even inside the modern building.

"You're right, it's quite hot in here," San says with a disappointed face. "What a shame we don't have iced coffee. We should get some on Tuesday!"

His eyes light up in excitement and this little sliver of pure happiness doesn't escape you. It's surprising how cute he can be with that shamelessly hot body of his.

"Do you know a place near?" You ask to drag on the conversation. You yourself know at least 3 cafés in the area that sell iced coffee but you want San to tell you a place. Maybe his favourite. So that you can go and think of him.

"Yes, I can show you!" he answers proudly.

"I'd love to." You send him a gentle smile with long eye contact before both of you look back at your work.

But your concentration withers away like the dying plant in the corner of the room when Choi San begins undoing the buttons of his shirt sleeves.

You know you shouldn't but your eyes immediately watch as his slender fingers start neatly folding up his sleeves. The muscles in his underarms dance beneath his skin as inch after inch of skin gets revealed.

You feel like a medieval man salivating over exposed ankles as you stare at San's arms. The veins are protruding in the heat and his honey skin is glistening under the bland neon lights.

Your heartbeat quickens and it's mostly because it feels like you finally found San slipping. Him rolling up his sleeves is like a crack in his perfect mask and you are certain that he wouldn't do it anywhere else in the company. He only does this because he is with you.

"Shoot," he suddenly exclaims and draws your attention up to his face. You catch the small pout that appears on his lips before he looks back at you.

"What is it?" you ask him.

"I forgot to book the meeting room for Tuesday and now everything is blocked. There is a work event next week. I should've booked it earlier."

"Oh," you simply reply. This is even more confusing. You don't believe that San would ever forget such an important event. Is he trying to get rid of you?

"Don't worry about it, darling." His smirk and the nickname has you fighting for air. "I'll find us something else."

You can only nod at him with a smile. Maybe he isn't trying to get rid of you.

The rest of your study/work time flies by as your mind thinks of all the possible meeting places you and San could have for Tuesday. You feel like a highschool girl dreaming about dates with your crush but you don't care. The man that is supposed to be tutoring you just makes your heart speed up in a way that you haven't experienced ever before.

When your meeting time comes to an end and San starts packing up his stuff he simply says: "How about we meet at my place next time? I don't like working in cafés it's always so crowded and noisy. And I have coffee too."

You snap up at him in surprise at the proposal. "Sure," you reply as nonchalantly as you can at the prospect of going to Choi San's apartment. Alone. With him.

"I can pick you up here with my car after work. So you don't have any extra way."

"That sounds good," you reply with a small smile, trying not to sound too excited.

"Then until next week," he says with one of his handsome smiles and you say your goodbyes before you can turn even redder in his presence.

When you walk onto the elevator this time and the door closes behind you, your heart is pounding into your throat. As the realization sets in that you will be alone with Choi San in his apartment a satisfied smile set over your face. Oh you will use that chance for sure.

----------------------

You spend the entire day preparing for your tutor appointment with San. Something deep inside you tells you that this behaviour is ridiculous but you push this inner voice back down as you play your favourite music and get ready.

You wear your hair in light waves and put on makeup to bring out your eyes but not look overly done up. Your outfit was a tricky matter but you settled on a classic pleated skirt and a tight long-sleeve. Everything about your appearance today lands on the thin line between innocent and suggestive and you are satisfied when you twirl around in front of the mirror.

All you want is one small reaction out of the man that you have thirsted for over the past weeks. If Choi San even so much as lets his eyes scan you up and down, your mission would be successful. Lost in your task of getting ready you almost forget to actually pack your study books before heading to your mothers company.

You two agreed on San picking you up at the company's garage. So you are taking down the elevator to the parking floor and checking yourself one last time in your phone camera before stepping into the parking lot.

Having no idea how his car looks like you pull up your chat with San, wanting to ask him where to go. But before you can type your message a calm voice calls you over from across the parking lot.

"Y/n!"

You turn around to a sight that makes your heart flutter. San is leaning onto his car, a chic black Mercedes. His white dress shirt has one button unbuttoned and his sleeves are rolled up again. His feet are crossed over each other leisurely as he waits for you to come over.

Walking up to him you have to try real hard to look casual and not like your nerves are taking over you with the impending situation of being in the same car as San for an undefined amount of time. Your heart is beating already and he hasn't even called you any nicknames yet.

"Hello, San. You're not wearing glasses today?" you notice in surprise and hope it doesn't come off as too attentive.

"Sometimes I wear contacts," he replies smoothly. "It's a styling decision."

While you love the glasses on San seeing him without has a different charm to it. Almost like he is showing you a different side of him.

"Ready to go?" you ask him to keep the conversation going and you're almost proud of your nonchalant tone.

"Ready when you are," he replies with a light smile and walks around the car to open the door for you.

Of course he opens the door for me.

Before you can get in he also takes your bag from you to store it in the back. You want to refuse but one of his smiles finally makes you give in and you hand him the bag. Finally, you thank him and sit down in the passenger seat. The car looks even nicer on the inside: leather seats and perfectly clean. Something inside you starts questioning where this man hides his flaws since noone can possibly be this perfect at all times.

"It's only a 20 minute drive," San explains as he gets into the driver's seat and turns on the engine. You can't help but watch his hands as he manages the gearshift. But as he turns around to look for obstacles his eyes get stuck on you. For a second you think you got him. That his eyes linger on you for a little too long because you finally pulled a reaction out of him.

"You haven't even put your seatbelt on, darling."

And with that your mind is blank. Simple emptiness.

Before you can react, his hand reaches past you, grabbing the seatbelt and plugging it in. His hand doesn't so much as grace your shoulder for a millisecond but you feel like your lungs are constricting.

"Thanks," you breath out before he finally pulls out of the parking spot. He does that wildly attractive thing where he put his hand on the back of the passenger's seat while driving backwards and you feel like losing it already. How will you survive being in the same apartment with this man. San however seems his usual chatty self.

"I'm sorry again for not booking the meeting room in time. I already reserved it for the weeks to come," he starts talking to you.

"Don't worry. I totally don't mind," you answer and regret it immediately. Did that sound too eager? Something about Sam's presence makes you overthink every single word you say.

"I have a fancy coffee machine at home so I can at least return the favour of you getting me coffee all the time."

You smile at that. It feels like this little inside thing between you two how you always use your company privileges to pay for both of your coffee. San thanks you every single time, bringing up how much you save his day.

"I never thought you were that much of a coffee guy at home too," you say trying to get him to tell you more about himself.

"You're acting like I didn't go through pharmacy as well!" He replies with a slightly sulky tone. "No way to survive that major without getting addicted to coffee."

You chuckle at his response. "That's true unfortunately. So you just carried the addiction into your job?"

"You could state it like that but by buying a fancy machine you can just say that coffee is your hobby instead."

Whenever you two talk about mundane topics like this you can't help but be glued to his lips. To get a glimpse of the Choi San that isn't working over-hours all the time and kept up his perfect image at all costs. You want to find out the details about him. Like how he enjoys his coffee or what colour he might like best.

You continue the drive in casual chatter like this before finally reaching your destination. As San pulls into an underground parking lot of an apartment building your heart rate quickens again. Something about seeing his apartment makes you incredibly nervous.

He tells you to wait inside the car after he lets the motor die down so that he can open the door for you again. Even this small gesture has you wrapped around his finger and you smile as you try to step out of the car as gracefully as you can.

San leads you into an elevator and as soon as the doors close you feel reminded of your first meeting. Of how he took your breath away just by standing next to you in such a small space. And now there isn't much difference. He still makes you just as nervous. But at least you can talk to him now.

"How is studying for your exams going so far?" He asks casually.

"It's okay," you reply lamely. "I'm trying my best."

"You know if you actually do need my help you can obviously ask me," he offers alluding to your deal of him basically just getting his own work done instead of tutoring you.

"You've already helped me so much. All I need to do now is actually study," you say turning down his argument.

You idiot, you think to yourself. You could've at least pretended to need his help.

You wait in silence as the remaining floors rush past you. You're surprised with every passing number, wondering what floor San might be living on. But the elevator doesn't stop until the highest floor.

San let's you exit first which makes no sense to you since you don't know where to go. So you wait for him to show you the way to his apartment.

As soon as he unlocks the door and leads you two inside you curiously scan his place. On a first glance it looks almost exactly like you expected: it's very clean and tidy, the furniture is modern and rather minimalistic and the whole place carries a simple colour theme of black and chrome with only hints of colour. The entrance leads straight into an open living room that connects to the kitchen.

"Make yourself at home at the dinner table," San offers while gesturing at the big, black table that looks like straight out of a design magazine.

You both place your shoes neatly at the entrance of his apartment before you take your bag to the table. As you choose a seat from which you can look outside the gigantic window front, San heads over to the kitchen, getting something from a cupboard.

"Can I get you a glass of water before I make some coffee?" He asks you with a kind smile.

"That would be nice," you answer even though water was not what you were craving right now.

He filled one for you and brought it over before returning to the kitchen. "You want your coffee hot or iced?"

"Iced? This is better service than at the company. You should forget to book the meeting room more often." It's a weak attempt at flirting with him but he laughs non the less.

"So iced it is?" He confirms with you again and turns on his electric coffee grinder after you nod approvingly.

It shouldn't captivate you that much, looking at him while he was performing such a basic task as making coffee. But you could watch him for hours, the way his broad back stretches out his dress shirt. The way he moves around so smoothly. The way the muscles in his arms flex as he handles his espresso machine.

You turn towards your study materials just in time before he faces you again, two iced coffees in his hands. He places one gently in front of you before he sits down opposite of you.

"Thank you," you smile at him extra sweetly.

"Anything you want, darling."

You swear to yourself that if he calls you darling one more time you will throw all rational thoughts out of the window and straddle him right here in his stupid designer living room chair. But for now you settle for a coy smile as you feel your cheeks heat up.

To add to your demise, as San drags his chair closer to the table both of your knees touch for a brief second before he casually changes his seating position. The table is narrower than the one in the meeting room and knowing that your legs are mere inches from another makes you even more delusional. What if he did that on purpose?

After that, all concentration for your studies is far gone. It doesn't help at all that the iced coffee he made you was the best you had in ages and with every sip you keep wondering what Choi San isn't good at.

I just know he fucks good there's no other way, you think to yourself but get interrupted in your thoughts.

"Are you stuck on something?" San asks you and you almost don't even dare to raise your eyes to look at him. A kind of shame overcomes you as you realize what you have been thinking about while he worries about your studies.

You sigh to buy yourself time to find an answer that doesn't include: Yes, I'm stuck because I can't think of anything but your body on top of mine.

"Yeah, I just can't seem to concentrate well lately. Maybe I'm stressed out because of my finals."

It isn't fully a lie. Your finals are approaching steadily and with you thirsting over your tutor instead of studying you are indeed starting to worry.

"I would love to tell you that grades don't matter too much but I know your mother won't agree and I will probably face her anger too if you fail," he laughs at the end of his sentence to lighten the mood but quickly notices he only stressed you more by saying that.

"I'm sorry," he quickly retracts. It feels like the first time you caught him messing up his smooth way of talking which in return makes you smile.

"No, you're right. I just never thought about the fact that she will hate both of us if I mess up. What a way to relax."

"I shouldn't have said that," San again apologizes. "I'm sure you will do amazing though. After all you studied so much."

He finishes his sentence with a wink and you must stare at him for a second like an idiot. Did you just imagine that? Or is he alluding to something? Does Choi San know that you thirsted for him this entire fucking time?

But his further actions don't allow you to think much more.

"You look quite tense actually," he continues. "You know it's not good for your back to sit stiff like this for a prolonged amount of time. Your neck must be hurting?"

You have no idea what he is talking about. And your confusion only grows as San gets up from his chair heading in your direction. Every step he comes closer to you has your heart pumping erratically. Even though you dreamed about him being closer to you and finally paying you more attention you are now paralysed at the situation unfolding. Simply being close to him renders your entire body useless.

San steps behind you and, to your absolute shock and amazement, his hands gently grasp your shoulders.

"To compensate the stress from university I took a physiology course that taught us how to massage tense muscles."

As if to proof his words his thumbs gently start rubbing circles into your neck. The warmth of his fingers seeps through your thin shirt and fills your entire body. It feels like he set you on fire with this simple touch.

All of this cannot be real. This must be a figment of your imagination or you actually fell asleep on your study notes while dreaming about San. But his voice sounds very much real when he resumes:

"You have to relax, otherwise I'll hurt you." His voice drops lower than usual and as he gently drapes your hair over one shoulder to get it out of his way you can feel his breath fanning over your neck. Goosebumps erupt all over your skin.

But amid the fire burning in your veins and your clouded mind you actually manage to ease into his fingers and allow him to loosen up your muscles.

"That's a good girl," he rasps behind you and you know you tipped over the edge now. There is no going back from this. You feel like a doll in his hands. His words are electrifying, leaving you unable to utter a single word, to make a single sound. Your mind is running on a state of emergency. Nothing seems to get to you but the fact that San is touching you.

And oh is he good at it. His hands are pressing into all the right places relieving all the pent up tension you built ever since getting ready for this meeting today. If his fingers are already this good at massaging out your stress you can't help but think about what else they can do.

"How do you feel?" He asks. His voice is still low and his tone taunting, as if he knows exactly what he's doing to you.

"Better," you answer. Your voice is merely a whisper. You sound weak, even in your own ears, and wonder if he even heard you.

"Yeah? Then how is this?" With his question his thumbs dip beneath the collar of your shirt and massage your upper back a little lower.

You can't help but close your eyes. The low tone of his voice, his fingers on your skin and the playfulness of his words. All of this is so overwhelming you can only lean back and revel in his touch.

"It feels so good," you manage to breath out when you realize he asked you a question.

He bends down a little, his mouth now right next to your ear. "Should I make you feel even better?"

He is quite literally the devil on your shoulder. Everything in your body screams for you to say yes immediately. The unspoken promise has your entire body on fire and you almost give in to your desire. But a tiny speck of reasonable thinking pulls you back into the dangerous territories you are moving in right now.

"What do you mean?" you ask carefully. You know that this is everything you wanted for the past few weeks but still you can't help being confused about his sudden change.

His left hand wanders from your back to your chin, tilting it to the side so you can look at him. The look in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine. His pupils are dilated and he is looking at you like he is preying on you. The intensity is something you have never seen in him before.

"You are far too smart to be asking that question, darling," he replies smugly.

"But you were never interested in me?" You ask back and want to hit yourself on the spot. Why are you even asking questions when the man you've desired for weeks finally seems to be making a move on you? But after all he is acting very out of character.

San chuckles, never taking his eyes off of you. "You're so cute. All these weeks that you've been wanting me and now you ask what I'm doing?"

Your mouth opens in shock. So he did in fact know all this time that you were interested in him.

"Don't act all surprised now, darling. You really thought I didn't see the way you looked at me ever since we first met? How your eyes keep focusing on my arms in my tight shirts. How you steal glances at me when you think I'm not looking? I wanted to see how long I could leave you thirsting like this before you would break."

His confession has you gasping as you realize you weren't even faintly as indiscreet as you thought you were. Instead San was playing with you the entire time. Watching your every move.

"Desperation looks so cute on you," he adds with another devilish smile. His fingers continue drawing circles into your back as his burning eyes keep you fixed in your spot. You feel bewitched by his entire presence, like he has cast a spell on you.

"I made all this effort to get you into my apartment so we both don't have to risk our lives by having me ruin you on the meeting table and still you didn't even have a clue. I'm almost disappointed if you weren't so cute when you are surprised like this." A satisfied grin plays around his plump lips, as if he revelling in the taste of this sweet opportunity in his hands. "Now be a good girl for me and finally do what you've been wanting to do for weeks. Tell me you want me."

You haven't taken a single breath since he started talking and as a result your head feels dizzy. It takes a short moment before you can finally form the words that your head is screaming at you.

"Please," you whisper pathetically.

"Please what, darling?" San revels in the way you can barely speak.

"Please ruin me."

You can basically see the fire behind his eyes ignite as you speak those three words. His hand wanders to your cheek, grabbing it firmly. He takes his sweet time to let his thumb run over your bottom lip, eyes trailing after his own movement.

"With pleasure."

Finally, his lips press onto yours in a desperate kiss. They feel just as soft as they always looked to you, but he kisses you with a roughness that is almost contradictory. The combination is intoxicating. As you reciprocate the kiss, heat runs through your limbs in shockwaves.

Suddenly impatient, San interrupts the kiss to pull you up and out of the chair by your arms. Grabbing your waist he manhandles you onto the dinner table instead, lifting you onto the ledge as if it was nothing.

Your hands bury in his hair as both your lips meet again in a rushed embrace. In return, San wedges one of his legs between yours and spreads your knees so he can stand between them. The way he handles you makes heat pool in your core. San has a determination to his every move that makes you want to do whatever he could want from you.

One of his hands still tightly grasping your waist, the other winds in your hair as he deepens the kiss. When his tongue enters your mouth you arch your back wanting to diminish every centimetre between you two. Your head is dizzy, completely overwhelmed by his every touch.

San's firm hands are restless on your heated body. His fingers quickly find a way to shift under your shirt and his thumb draws circles into the bare skin of your stomach. Choi San feels like a drug. His touch just as intoxicating as you always dreamed it to be.

He removes his mouth from your lips only to latch onto the fragile skin behind your ears, kissing his way around your neck. You let your head fall back to give him better access and when he starts sucking on your skin you relieve a small whimper.

You can feel San smirking into your skin as he sucks even more. It's like he has found your weakness and is now shamelessly using it to make you melt beneath his fingers. And it's working so well. Your hands lose grip on his hair as you lose your ability to focus on anything but San's lips on your neck.

"Don't tap out on me already, darling. I'm only getting started," he rasps into your ear in between kisses. You draw in a shaky breath at his words. Your legs feel like jelly even as your sitting down and you just know you won't be able to walk after San is finished with you.

He finally withdraws his lips and for a second just revels in your already dishevelled form: hair messy, red flush to your cheeks and lips glossy from kissing him.

"I'd love to have you on my dinner table but let's take this somewhere more comfortable for now," he says in a soft voice.

Hooking his hands under your thighs he picks you up from the table, carrying you towards his bedroom. Woken up from your trance by the change of motion you suddenly gain back some of your bite. While San is busied with carrying you, your fingers rush to the collar of his dress shirt. Oh how often you have dreamed of popping open those buttons one by one. And finally you have the pleasure to do so. A soft chuckle makes his chest move in front of you as San looks down on your actions.

"You couldn't wait, could you?"

"Why would I?" you reply cheekily as your hand smooths over his now exposed skin. He feels so soft and hot under your fingertips that you don't think you'll ever be able to detach.

San throws open his bedroom door with his shoulder and before you have a chance to take in the room you are thrown onto the plush bed. He follows behind immediately, hovering over you with both hands propped up next to your head. He lets his eyes run over your figure lazily, up and down.

"Don't even know where to start with you," he mumbles half to himself and half to you as he watches your chest rise and fall in heavy breaths. He decides to put on a show, sitting back on his heels and slowly continuing your work in unbuttoning his shirt.

Apart from his skin being exposed the simple act of opening some buttons shouldn't drive you as crazy as it does right now. It's simply the sexiest thing you have ever seen in your life. The way his hooded eyes stay on yours the entire time while one button after another falls open under his practiced movements.

You are moving on autopilot when you also sit up to take off your own shirt. You simply can't delay this any further. As your shirt lands somewhere beside the bed, San lets out a small groan, surprising you. He stopped in the middle of folding down his sleeves.

"How did you know that purple was my favourite colour?" He asks in a raspy voice. His eyes are raking over your deep purple bra with a desire in them that lets shivers run over your skin.

You can't imagine a better way to find out his favourite colour. You only chose it because it accentuates your skin tone but now it feels like fate to you. Finally, you are getting to the edges of Choi San. Getting to know him on a level that you were craving like the air you needed to breath.

"Good intuition," you reply. Your confidence surges under his heavy glances. Maybe a little too much. "Need help with that?" you ask him teasingly with a nod towards his shirt, which hangs open around his toned torso.

As soon as you speak those words you are getting pinned back to the bed, San's hand suddenly wrapped around your neck. He isn't putting any pressure on it yet but you can feel his strength pulsating around your neck. His broad shoulders are taking up most of your vision and with the way he glares at you you just know that you are soaked.

"Don't get too bold with me, darling," he says in a warning tone. "I'm the one in charge."

You look up at him through big, round eyes, lashes fluttering because you have a feeling that it will push just the right buttons in him.

"Go ahead then," you reply firmly. "Do whatever you want to me."

San sits up again and roughly tugs on his sleeves, finally discarding his shirt fully. Then his lips are on yours again in a heartbeat.

You greedily let your hands wander over his now fully exposed upper body. The muscles playing under his skin feel so good as he buries his hands in your hair. His biceps is so big that your fingers can barely wrap around it halfway. You can't get enough of touching his body which so far you only admired in fitted dressing shirts.

San kisses his way down from your lips again but this time he doesn't stop at your neck. Continuing down your chest he kisses the tender skin between your breasts. When he takes both hands to squish your breasts together, burying his face in between, you lose your last bit of composure.

"Please, San. Please just fuck me."

He lifts his head to smile at you devilishly. The fire behind his eyes seems so bright that you're scared it will never burn down again.

"Already begging for me? You're still half dressed and I'm only starting. Have a little patience."

As he finishes his words, his hand snakes behind your back to open your bra in a swift motion. He peels the straps off of you with a new found patience that makes you feel like you are suffocating.

When the piece of clothing lands on the floor, San's eyes are glued to your chest. Slowly, he lowers himself down again, gently taking on of your nipples into his mouth. As soon as his tongue starts lapping at you a string of moans escape you. He just feels so good.

Without ever losing focus on kissing and nipping on your chest, one of his hands wanders to your skirt. He finds the zipper so easily it feels like he has studied undressing you. He pushes it down your legs quickly, leaving you only in your underwear.

As his hand starts stroking your inner thighs, your eyes roll to the back of your head. He feels like a dream.

"Please San. Please touch me," the words leave your mouth in whispers. Silent pleas for him to finally give you what you want.

"Is my darling so stressed from studying that she needs her mind taken off of things?" His fingers trail over your clothed heat as he asks you in a sickly sweet voice. His eyes are focussed on your face, taking in how you crumble beneath his touch.

"Yes. Yes, please," you whimper desperately. Every touch feels like electricity on your skin.

"Want me to stuff you full so you can forget everything you've studied for for weeks?" He pushes your panties to the side, his fingers toying at your entrance.

"Please San..." you repeat yourself weakly. Finally he gives into your pleading and sinks two of his fingers into you. You are so wet that they glide in with ease. You suck in a harsh breath as he begins pumping them in and out of you.

"God you feel so good. Can't wait to fuck you, my darling. Bury my cock so deep into you you forget your own name."

His words make you shake beneath him. You had a lot of suspicions about San in the bedroom due to your extensive daydreaming about him. But never did you expect him to be so vocal and downright dirty with his words. It catches you off-guard and only heightens your pleasure.

San scoots up on the bed a little so his face is hovering over yours again, while he slips a third finger into your heat. "How do I feel?" he asks with a raspy tone to his voice.

"You feel so fucking good, San," you moan in answer. His fingers stretch you out so deliciously and he reaches this spot deep inside you that makes you arch your back with every thrust.

"Yeah, you wanna come on my fingers?" he rasps into your ear now, lips again attaching to your neck, sucking deep marks into your skin.

"Please, San." You feel like a broken record that's repeating the same thing over and over. You grow closer and closer to an orgasm with every motion of his fingers inside you. But San has other plans for you. And when he feels you desperately clenching around his fingers, he pulls them out of you.

"I'm sorry darling," he says immediately, even though his face doesn't display any regret. "But you look so pretty when you're desperate. And I want you to come on my cock when I make you fall apart for the first time."

You feel like crying. You want nothing more but to come and yet him taking it from you only makes you want him more. You would do anything for Choi San.

He stands up from the bed and opens his belt. But before he can take of his pants, he orders you over with a motion of his finger. You sit on your knees at the edge of the bed in seconds, looking up at him expectantly.

He doesn't say a word and only gestures for his painfully strained pants. You don't need any more hints to start opening his pants and pulling them down his legs desperately. You hook your fingers into his boxers too but look up at him once more before continuing. When he nods at you you finally pull them down as well.

You can't help but stare at San's length. He's big, just like you had always imagined and he was rock-hard. When San takes himself into his hand and gives himself a few strokes you open your mouth on your own, sticking out your tongue in anticipation of tasting him.

San starts gently. His other hand weaves into your hair and he pulls you onto his length slowly. You are able to take a good amount of him before his tip hits the back of your throat and you release a surprised moan. San closes his eyes momentarily as he relishes in the feeling of your hot mouth around him.

"Shit, you feel so good," he rasps out before he starts thrusting in and out of your mouth. Your hands seek hold on his muscular thighs and you look up at San through big and pleading eyes. Even though he isn't pleasuring you, this almost feels as good as having him bury his fingers inside you. All you ever dreamed about was him using you just like this and the feeling of it happening is so intoxicating you feel like you might pass out any second.

"Look at you enjoying my cock so damn much, that your eyes are losing focus," San chuckles. He looks down at you in disbelief as you mindlessly swirl your tongue around his cock. "You love being ruined by me, don't you?"

You can only manage a desperate nod and approving grunt as you continue sucking him of. No man has ever made you this desperate. As you look at him from beneath you feel like you have accomplished everything you ever wanted: his hair was dishevelled, his breaths uneven and a red tint painted his cheeks. All in all, Choi San lost his perfectly maintained appearance as you sucked on his cock and to you he looked 100 times prettier this way.

When his thrusts go sloppy, he pulls out of your mouth in a haste before he can come. "You're driving me crazy, darling," he grunts as he catches his breath for a second. In a more gentle tone he resumes: "Lay back on the bed for me, ok?"

You do as he says, laying down on your back in the middle of the bed, your body buzzing with the anticipation of what is to come. San goes to his dresser, opening a drawer to get a condom.

When he climbs over you he looks at you intensely. But at the same time his eyes hold a softness that makes you feel secure.

"Are you sure about going on, y/n?" he asks warmly. No petnames this time. He wants a clear answer.

"Never been so sure in my life," you reply with a smile and his lips mirror yours as he beams down at you.

Quickly he sits up to open the condom and roll it onto his member. Opening your legs with his knee he situates himself between you and positions his cock at your entrance. One hand on your hip and the other holding his cock, he slowly sinks himself into you while carefully observing your face.

Your eyes flutter when he is fully inside of you and you moan at the feeling. San releases a grunt as well and waits a few seconds deep inside of you.

"Fuck, you're so tight for me, my darling. Don't worry I won't stop this time until you come." And with that he starts thrusting into you. He begins with slow and deep thrusts but as soon as you get used to his size he speeds up rapidly.

His abs are flexing underneath is skin as he grabs onto your hip and pistons himself into you. With every thrust you can feel him hit this spongy part deep inside of you that makes heat build in your core with a throbbing intensity. Meanwhile you revel in the sight above you: San looks like a god. His muscular body moving above you is almost enough to push you over the edge but what's even more entrancing is his face. His expressions seem almost possessed. Like a demon took over him as soon as he started fucking you, he fixes his eyes onto yours.

"Am I fucking you good? Making you forget all your precious studies?" There they are again. His filthy words driving you down a one-way-road to insanity. "I hope you forget everything so you have to see me even more, darling. Then I can keep on fucking this tight little cunt over and over again."

"Fuck, San!" you moan out, being shocked by his words. His control over you is baffling and you can't help but grow closer and closer to your orgasm with every word.

"I know you like me like that, darling. Do me a favour and come on my cock so I can finally see you lose yourself will you?"

You can't form an answer. Endless moans tumble out of your mouth in increasing volume and San knows he has you exactly where he wants.

"Come for me."

Your orgasm hits you with an explosive intensity. Faintly, you notice yourself moan at a concerning volume as your high washes over your body. But San doesn't seem to mind. Your legs are shaking and he helps you ride out the feeling with slower strokes. He waits for your breath to slow down again before he leans down to you and places a gentle kiss onto your lips.

"I want you on your knees in front of me," he says sweetly as soon as your lips separate and your head is spinning. Still you manage to get up with the help of his arm beneath your waist and you let yourself be positioned in front of San, your back to him.

Since you didn't have the opportunity to examine his bedroom earlier you only now notice the big mirror on his wardrobe next to his bed. Looking ahead, you can now see yourself on your knees, sitting in front of San.

You look even more dishevelled than you feel: Your hair is all over the place and some of your eyeliner smudged and a handful of dark purple marks littering your neck. Also, a red tint covers your skin, making you look flushed. San behind you smirks as you examine your own figure.

"You look so pretty all messed up like this for me, don't you think?"

His arm wraps around your waist as he leans your body back onto his broad chest. You look tiny in front of his build.

"I'll make you look even prettier," he promises as he sinks himself back into you.

He picks up his intense pace from before and you already feel dizzy again. With his arm holding you tight he is basically lifting you up and down his cock. At this angle he is hitting you deeper than before and you are sure you won't last very long until your next high.

But nothing could've prepared you for the feeling of San winding his other arm around you too, his fingers gently starting to stroke your clit. Your head falls back onto San's shoulder as you give in to the mind-numbing pleasure that starts buzzing through your body.

"Keep your eyes on me, darling. I want to watch you fall apart."

His voice sounds sulky, almost cute. It doesn't match his relentless thrusts and his fingers pleasuring you. It takes all your strength to lift your head again and look at San through the mirror. His eyes are hooded now, a shin layer of sweat making his flawless skin shine in the evening light.

"You make me feel so good," you manage to say as San keeps on pounding into you. You want him to know how he makes you feel. How good he is being to you.

"Am I?" He smiles in satisfaction as he watches your brows draw together with a particularly deep thrust. "You too, darling. You feel so good around me I don't think I can last much longer. But you'll come one more time for me, right?"

His voice sounds so deep and sultry in your ears. "Of course, Sannie," you mumble absent-mindedly. You don't even notice the nickname until he chuckles behind you.

"How can you be so cute and so sexy at the same time? You'll be the death of me, my good little girl."

He places a kiss onto your cheek and that is what finally drives you over the edge.

"Fuck, San. I'm coming," you moan out before your high crashes over you. If he wasn't holding you, you would fall to the ground. You try to hold eye contact with San through the reflection but your eyes keep on shutting as waves of pleasure roll over you. You have never felt such an intensity before.

But San's thrust don't slow down this time. He keeps on rutting into you relentlessly, driving you to insanity. You feel like you're swimming in a pool of pleasure.

"I'm close, darling. Just a little longer," San's voice is pitched higher than before, sounding just as desperate as you feel. You want nothing more but for him to come.

"Please, Sannie. I want you to come so bad."

Your desperate pleas are San's final straw. Clutching your body tight to his own, he finishes with his cock buried deep inside you. You can feel him pulsating in your heat and your moans mix into his grunts as you milk him for every last drop of his cum.

As you both slowly recover San pulls out of you and gently lays you back onto the bed. You can't do anything but catch your breath while he gets up to rid himself of the condom and return to you with a glass of water.

"Drink something," he urges you on and you take the glass from him. He watches you with a tinge of worry in his eyes. After taking a few sips you offer the glass back to him.

"You should drink some too, I'm sure you worked your body more than I did."

He smiles at your words and takes some water too before returning the glass to his bedside table. When he looks back at you there is a heaviness to his gaze that worries you.

"What is it?" you ask.

San takes a deep breath before answering you. "No matter what I said to you before, I actually didn't expect us to tumble into this as quickly as we did right now. And I want you to know that I didn't do this to use you or take any advantage of you."

His hand nervously grabs for the back of his neck. "Actually, I've been interested in you ever since we first met but I fear the tension between us was quicker than both of us."

You try to process his words even in your hazy state of mind. A spark of excitement surges through your body as you realize what he is saying.

"I feel the same, San," you reply truthfully. "I like you. And not just because you're insanely handsome."

You are glad when he laughs shyly at your words.

"So maybe I can take you out on a date that doesn't involve work or pharmacy studies sometime?"

"I hope sometime means this week, because I waited long enough for you already."

After everything that happened this evening, this moment when he smiles at you might be what makes your heart beat the fastest. You can't believe your luck as you look Choi San into the eyes and he leans in for a kiss.

-----------------

"This was a stupid idea," you say to San but maybe more to yourself. "I should tell her alone."

"How will she ever respect me again if I let you do this alone?" San replies worriedly. "She told me to tutor you and now here we are. I will look terrible either way."

You have never seen him this nervous. But after all, your mother has the ability to make everybody scared for their life. You two pass her assistant's desk with a polite greeting as you head straight for your mother's office. She knows you are coming but she doesn't know you're bringing company.

You knock carefully on the door until her voice calls you in. Your mother stays seated as you two enter the room. She doesn't look surprised or confused about San's appearance but rather intrigued.

"Why are you visiting me today, y/n?" she asks simply.

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you prepare for answering.

"I have something to announce to you," you start off as confident as you can.

Your mother's eyes flick between you and San. "Go on."

"San- ... Mr. Choi and I, we are..." your voice is shaking. Why is this so hard for you?

But San grabs for your hand, linking his fingers with yours as he confidently finishes your sentence: "We are in a relationship, director Kim."

His boldness strikes you as admiring. Maybe he was right about accompanying you.

A silence that draws out unbearably long fills the room. You feel like your lungs are being compressed with every passing second.

Then your mother smiles. It's not exactly a smile of happiness. It speaks more of victory.

"Finally," she announced. "It took you two longer than I expected."

Now it's your turn to be silent. Both you and San are stunned in your places.

Finally you find your voice to ask: "What do you mean, mom?"

She smiles at you in satisfaction.

"You see: Mr. Choi is a good man. He's a gentleman, treats his colleagues with the utmost respect, excels at his job and is handsome too. How could I find a better match for my beloved daughter? But I know you wouldn't be interested if I were to formerly introduce you two so I thought I'd help you in a different way."

Your mouth falls open in shock. Out of all things, your mother purposefully setting you up with San has never even crossed your mind. Your boyfriend seems even more shocked at the revelation than you, his face reddened and a stunned expression on his face.

"So you set us two up?" You finally ask your mother.

"Of course I did! And it worked out brilliantly, don't you think? I'm glad you both came to tell me. Mr. Choi?"

San perks up at her words. "Yes?"

"I assume you will take good care of my daughter?"

"Of course I will," he replies sternly, voice full of sincerity. "I will do everything care for y/n." His words make you feel warm and fuzzy.

Your mother nods approvingly. "Then you two may leave. I still have work to do."

You both nod hastily and thank your mother before turning back for the door.

"Oh, before I forget. Y/n?" your mother asks one last time.

"Yes?"

"I received your test results that you sent me. They look very promising."

I hope you enjoyed <3 Pls reblog and leave feedback if you can :)

Tags: @voicesinmyhead-rc

#ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #beginningofwonderland #smut fanfic #ateez fanfiction #san smut #san x y/n #san x reader #san fanfic #san x you

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kaibutsushidousha · 28 days

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Kodaka April Fools tweets 2024

Lying just because it's April Fools' is so dull. Honestly painful to watch. Lying in general doesn't do you any good. In my younger days, I told every lie I could, saying some genuinely insane stuff about being a supreme leader of evil and whatnot, and thanks to that, now that I'm in my thirties, I got famous for all the wrong reasons and can't find a stable job because people think I'm associated with the yakuza... Sigh, I wanna deck my cringe younger self's face. Quit lying for fun while you can.

My classmates aren't doing great either. Thinking you're hot shit during your school days always comes back to bite you... My advice to my past self: slow and steady effort is worth more than any talent. Also, the part of life you spent larping with that silly horse laugh is not going to be one you'll want to remember later. I wish I could make that clear to him. White lies aren't a thing. Talent is never enough. My class is proof of that. Wanna know what my classmates are like now that we're in our thirties?

Akamatsu became a piano teacher. Her player skills capped off in her teens, it seems. But she's not that good at teaching so she's considered kinda mid at her job. And now she's struggling with the father of a student incessantly hitting on her. Tough world to live in.

Toujou opened a housekeeping company but she was too strict with her employees so everyone quit. And now she's doing everything on her own. Sucks to be in your thirties without any successors or employees. She's a prime example of how being so much better than anyone else doesn't do you any good. Well, she's always working for celebrities, so she's doing well financially, but I heard about some major court fight about a missing item under suspicion of theft from one of her clients. That can't be nice.

Yumeno got to her thirties still saying magic is real, so she's past the point of no return. She agrees that's an unhinged way to live, but she's too old to suddenly change gimmicks. Work takes her all over the country, but her gimmick doesn't allow her to publicly drink, so she has to get plastered alone in her hotel room after shows. I wish she could fix her life with real magic.

Harukawa? ...Haven't heard that name in a long time. Now she was a living edgy fantasy. The past tense was because I hadn't heard of her in a long time. I don't know the details, but apparently, she went to some war zone outside of Japan because her first love didn't want to date her. Takes some real edgelord to react to a broken heart like that, but if she's still alive, I have no idea how her thirties are treating her. My personal guess is that she's a mother of many.

Chabashira opened her Aikido school but is having a hard time attracting students. So she had the idea of starting an anti-sexual-harassment campaign that could double as advertisement, but thanks to her cluelessness when it comes to romance, she got canceled for mistakenly tossing men in regular couples. She's still doing the "degenerate males" bit in her thirties. Girl really needs to get on with the times. Rumor goes that she still downs huge packs of tequila bottles with Yumeno every now and then. Really don't think there's any salvaging her reputation.

Shirogane is an office lady still continuing her cosplay hobby on the side. She could be doing well if she knew how to keep her mouth shut but frequently rambles about cosplay history and etiquette, so no one likes having her around. Stay emotionally dependent on a single hobby long enough and your passion starts to close you off to others. That's her problem.

Angie was the most successful in the class! She made big money both on the art and the religion fronts. However, there were some controversies about her devotees selling counterfeits of her paintings at exorbitant prices and one magazine made a huge news coverage of it, which resulted in her catching the police's attention. She's been recently untraceable, with the rumors saying that she'll never be back to Japan.

Oh, and Iruma... Up until some point, she had the best life of all of us. She made big money off of her inventions' patents. So far so good. Things only started going off-rails after she married an ex-stripper. The two started a YouTube channel together. And later, her husband ran in last year's elections and lost big time. They got an awful debt from his election campaign and she had to get into side jobs to pay it off. And her husband? Disappeared. No word from Iruma herself about what happened. Tough world to live in.

No further updates from Kodaka in the past 3 hours, so I assume he went to sleep and will come back to tweet about the 7 remaining boys in the morning.

#kokichi ouma #kaede akamatsu #kirumi toujou #himiko yumeno #maki harukawa #tenko chabashira #tsumugi shirogane #angie yonaga #miu iruma

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artbyblastweave · 10 months

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Still playing Skyrim. And I’m interested to report that the game is actually better than I remember, on balance. But I’m kind of fascinated by what’s going on with Lydia, mechanically and narratively.

Lydia is the first follower who gets shoved in your face just by virtue of following the main quest. There are others you can pick up earlier, but not without finishing errands (for Faendal and Sven), by forking up a pretty big chunk of change for the early game by hiring Janessa, or by going out of your way in some other manner. If you’re completely new to the game and you’re just powering through the main story as it’s presented, she’s the first option for a follower that the game highlights for you in giant blinking neon lights. And as a quest reward, she’s mechanically kind of a godsend at that point in the story; a doubling of carry capacity, an excellent meat shield and distraction, a way to extract utility from weapons and armor you don’t want to use yourself. More subjectively she provides the impression of a stalwart ally or companion in what can be a very lonely worldspace to exist in. There’s very little reason not to take her with you, and once you have her, the majority of companions being equal, there’s very little reason to get rid of her until she stops level scaling.

Despite the mechanical utility Lydia provides at a crucial point, and the resultant likelyhood that you’ll haul her along for the ride, she’s only a couple steps up from the companion cube. She has no specific, non-fungible impact on the narrative beyond demonstrating Jarl Balgruuf’s favor. Her deferral to you is automatic; if someone is actively paying her a salary to help you defile graves, cut deals with every deity on the continent and invade the afterlife, it sure as hell isn’t you. It isn’t clear what her gig under Balgruuf was before she was assigned to you. She has no personal narrative. She has no personal side quest. One of her biggest inklings of personality is when she expresses vague dissatisfaction with being treated as a pack mule, but then she does it anyway. She’s party to world-shaking events and political upheavals, but she’s present purely in her capacity as your appendix, so reality simply treats her as your plus-one.

She’ll block doors you’re trying to get through, and she’ll get mad at you if you push her out of the way. She’ll charge into battle or set off traps while you’re trying to sneak. She’ll microaggress you with stock Nord dialogue while pulverizing your enemies, a plurality of whom are also Nords. She’ll distract bosses long enough to buy you breathing room for a healing spell or a potion. You’ll kill her by accident with an ill-timed area-of-effect spell, roll your eyes, and, ultimately, probably reload your save. Because she might only be a couple steps up from a companion cube, but the whole gag with the companion cube is how ridiculously low the threshold is for the audience to get genuinely attached to something in a video game. A thin character invites apophenia. Behaviors that are purely downstream of dev thoughtlessness will still imply character traits if taken at Watsonian Face Value. In this case, inexplicable undying loyalty, reserved comments on impressive landmarks, and comical stoicism in the face of some of the weirdest events it’s conceptually possible to encounter. So here’s to weird, underbaked companions in Bethesda Games, and everything we can project onto the void they provide. And Here’s to that related genus of character- units in squad-based tactics or management-sim games with permadeath mechanics who last long enough and accumulate enough equipment, skill points, etc. that they become your Special Little Guy despite otherwise lacking any deliberate character traits.

#thoughts #meta #skyrim #the elder scrolls #elder scrolls #TES #lydia #skyrim lydia

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schwarzkatje · 20 days

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dark!orphan!ellie x nun!reader

disclaimer: i don't ever write notes but this smells like too much blasphemy not to put some warnings and disclaimers. so, this contains ellie being still in an orphanage BUT i obviously changed the age so that she is of age because it goes without saying that p*dophilia is not contemplated here. also, "sister" is used as a synonym for "nun", not with the meaning of "family member". lastly, it does contain smut even though it's not so detailed.

> for part 2 click here || for part 3 click here

ellie didn't wake up one day choosing to be mean. in fact, if you ever asked her why the rude behaviour, she would simply laugh it off and tell you to shut the fuck up with a bitterness so unlikely for such a young girl.

ellie thought it was her god given right to do whatever she wanted, having being already stripped enough of the pillars of her life, namely a happy family and a place her heart could call home. that resulted in her receiving reprimands and punishments from the nuns more than any other kid in the orphanage.

and you, the youngest of the nuns tasked with the upbringing of the kids and the newest addition to the orphanage, seeing how ellie behaved, decided it was the perfect opportunity to enact the knowledge you had acquired during your noviciate by devouring books about dysfunctional behaviour, specifically in orphans. you were positive people could change if showed how.

what you would invoke the lord's name for to swear was your entire and firmly believed doctrine, came to a brutal halt the very moment you came to the realisation of what ellie's bad reputation really was about.

it wasn't just a typical scenographic display of childish behaviours like refusing to attend class or the occasional smuggling of cigarettes that concurred to tear apart your good intentions. these were merely common patterns studied throughout the years by psychologists and educators, and the main topics in all of your books.

no, what made you falter was the fact that ellie seemed to relish being mean. if others acting the same way sported an inconsolable sorrow in their eyes, ellie's green ones would glow with the eagerness that came with the raising of the voices of the nuns, the laughable detentions and the yet unexplored range of just how far was too far.

it didn't help that ellie had learnt from the older kids all the gross vocabulary she has now assimilated, repeating the filthy words as a sort of statement to maintain the hierarchical status she has fought for and ultimately achieved among the majority of the orphans.

so it caught you off guard only the first time ellie fiercely exclaimed that "if you care so much about me maybe you should suck my dick tonight," as you apprehended over time that this wasn't and wouldn't have been an isolated incident, rather an infuriating routine that seemed only to increase the more you showed ellie how much it pissed you off.

of course, that time your cheeks were burning red and your brain was at war with the mortification of having received such a vulgarity in front of other pupils, alongside the humiliation that ticked with each second you spent silent, at a loss for words to properly tackle the problem at hand.

the best thing you managed to come up with was the most generic and fruitless "go out," pointing at the class door.

before ellie could walk through the door, she turned to you, smirking like you had just made her day, and slurring a sultry "don't get so wet when you scold me," after which she left, winking at you.

your hands were tied. you understood that you could inform the other sisters of what ellie was making you go through, but you understood just as well that it would be no to avail since the other nuns were there way before you and knew to a greater extent the amount of work needed to be implemented when dealing with ellie.

after the heat of the moment had died down, you gathered all of your strength, prayed hoping to receive some mercy, and recited like a mantra that you were the bigger person and couldn't possibly let your purpose go to waste.

the fact was that you realised too late that the presence of what you called the devil had certainly been lurking around and now manifested itself in the obscene form of ellie fucking two of her fingers inside of you from behind in the scriptorium, something that dealt the final blow to any hope of creating the optimal conditions to demonstrate the good of your heart.

ellie and her breath, together with her hands, were four fiends cooperating under the same objectives, being disrupting you, disrupting everything you represented and disrupting everything you stood for.

"no one has ever made you feel so good," ellie was insane herself for needing to hear you say it "otherwise, you wouldn't be needing to play the part of the perfect little sister who thinks she can fix everyone to compensate how empty she is," and no matter how desperately you tried and tried and cried out while doing so, your pussy was glistening with slick, feeling euphoric and on the brink of madness with how enticing the sensation and the blasphemous words that left ellie's mouth were. "you would be too cock drunk and stuffed with cum to care about anything else".

the ink and quill you were previously using laid on your desk where they shouldn't, spilling the black liquid and dirtying everything they touched. ellie could be compared to the two items, given how many times the sisters told her how harmful her tainting existence was. and maybe that was the reason her brain clicked and gave the command to her right hand to gather some of the ink and write "ellie's cum dump" on your ass.

as soon as your breathing quickened, ellie grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanked it throwing your head impossibly backwards and let you ride out the hardest orgasm of your life. the gesture wasn't just a display of dominance but it served as a lever to push you flat against the desk, treating you like a discarded toy.

"next time you come for me, expect me to fuck your ass. and it won't be with my fingers only"

#ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie x reader smut #ellie williams smut #ellie x y/n #ellie smut #ellie x you #the last of us smut #ellie williams x you #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou

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ladychlo · 5 months

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“I cut a piece from the tent fabric when I got my menstrual cycle.” Safa’a, speaking to instagram’s (raseef22)

"With these words, Safaa expressed to Raseef22 the moment she got her period during her displacement while she was living in a tent next to Al-Aqsa Hospital in the central Gaza Strip after her house in the Al-Rimal neighborhood was bombed. For most women, the idea of menstruation is a major disaster that adds to their series of suffering in light of the lack of privacy, due to the lack of sanitary pads or places where they can go to take care of themselves, and the lack of bathrooms even to change their underwear. Some of them were cautious and took birth control pills to delay their menstruation.

But as for Safaa, she was not prepared enough. She was busy preparing her bag of identification papers and forgot her sanitary pads, which put her in an embarrassing situation, as she described it, during her menstruation, as stains appeared on her clothes and she could not find a place to change them.

She points out that she tried to grab some worn-out pieces of cloth used as a barrier between the tents and put them in place of sanitary napkins. “They were cut from the tent cloth when I got my period,” which caused her to lose her personal hygiene on the one hand and her health care on the other.

Safaa says that she is still in shock as a result of losing her most basic right, which is the right to privacy as a woman." X X

#Palestine #gaza #genocide #feminism

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hotvintagepoll · 9 days

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Propaganda

Audrey Hepburn (My Fair Lady, Sabrina, Roman Holiday)—Growing up, Audrey Hepburn desperately wanting to be a professional ballerina, but she was starved during WWII and couldn't pursue her dream due to the effects of malnourishment. After she was cast in Roman Holiday, she skyrocketed to fame, and appeared in classics like My Fair Lady and Breakfast at Tiffany's. She's gorgeous, and mixes humor and class in all of her performances. After the majority of her acting career came to close, she became a UNICEF ambassador.

Jean Seberg (Breathless, Saint Joan)— Some of us watched À bout de souffle as a lil French undergrad and had the trajectory of our lives changed by Jean Seberg. She IS French new wave!! She is the moment!! She sadly had to work with a lot of shitty directors in her career but even so, she has this magnetic energy whenever she’s on screen. In her personal life, she was also very supportive of civil rights causes, and was even targeted/harassed by the FBI for financially supporting the Black Panther Party.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Jean Seberg:

anyone who plays Joan of Arc is kind of hot by default tbh

she's gorgeous, she's cool, she has the original blond pixie cut

She donated a lot of her money to civil rights organizations such as the NAACP and the black panther party as well as Native American school groups, as a result of this the fbi ran a smear campaign against her and a surveillance campaign which is thought to have led to her suicide tragically.

idk if this is propaganda but the COINTELPRO and the FBI are widely blamed for her death. If the FBI was after her for supporting the Black Panther Party you know she was good

Audrey Hepburn:

"She may be a wispy, thin little thing, but when you see that girl, you know you're really in the presence of something. In that league there's only ever been Garbo, and the other Hepburn, and maybe Bergman. It's a rare quality, but boy, do you know when you've found it." - Billy Wilder

Raised money for the resistance in nazi occupied Hungary. Became a humanitarian after retiring. Two very sexy things to do!

where to begin......... i wont her so bad. i literally dont know what to say.

My dude. The big doe eyes, the cheekbones, the voice. The flawless way she carried herself. She was never in a movie where she wasn't drop dead gorgeous. Oh, also the fact she raised funds against the Nazis doing BALLET and she won the Presidential Medal of Freedom for her humanitarian work.

"It’s as if she dropped out of the sky into the ’50s, half wood-nymph, half princess, and then disappeared in her golden coach, wearing her glass slippers and leaving no footprints." - Molly Haskell

"All I want for Christmas is to make another movie with Audrey Hepburn." - Cary Grant

I know people nowadays are probably sick of seeing her with all the beauty and fashion merch around that depicts her and/or Marilyn Monroe but she is considered a classic Hollywood beauty for a reason. Ironically in her day she was more of the alternative beauty when compared to many of her contemporaries. She always came off with such elegance and grace, and she was so charming. Apparently she was a delight to work with considering how many of her co-stars had wonderful things to say about her. Outside of her beauty and acting ability she was immensely kind. She helped raise funds for the Dutch resistance during WWII by putting on underground dance performances as well as volunteering at hospitals and other small things to help the resistance. During her Hollywood career and later years she worked with UNICEF a lot. Just an all around beautiful person both inside and out.

youtube

No one could wear clothes in this era like she could. She was every major designer's favorite star and as such her films are time capsules of high fashion at the time. But beyond that, she had such an elegance in her screen presence that belied a broad range of ability. From a naive princess, to a confused widow, to a loving and mischievous daughter, she could play it all.

Look at that woman's neck. Don't you want to bite it?

#audrey hepburn #jean seberg #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 4 #Youtube

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yumeka-sxf · 9 months

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Seems like this chapter just about wrapped up the Mole Hunt arc. I decided to analyze a bit more than I usually do with my chapter reviews since there was a lot to talk about on the Twiyor front!

When Fiona questioned Twilight about not killing Yuri, he gave his official "for the mission" reason, but slipped up by calling Yor "Yor-san" instead of "Yor Briar." This made it obvious to Fiona (who already knows about him softening) that he's trying desperately hard to cover up those feelings. Even though this would have been a good opportunity for her to imply that she's a better fit for the wife role, she doesn't even try because she knows Twilight would defend "Yor-san" in every subtle way he could.

When he gets home and finds out that Yor doesn't actually have gripes with him, he's relieved of that last load of stress and is finally able to relax, causing him to collapse (similar to the very first chapter when he collapsed after Anya passed the Eden entrance exam). After he realizes how utterly exhausted he is, he can't help but ask Yor to help out with his housework.

Her reply is what really makes everything sink in for him - despite all his attempts to be a flawless spy, she doesn't want him to be that way. She's happy when she can be useful to him and thinks it's bad if he pushes himself to be perfect all the time.

And yet, that's exactly what he has to be in order to survive as a spy. The fact that he had to ask someone for help with simple housework, plus someone telling him that he doesn't have to be perfect, made him recall the feeling he had when he looked into Wheeler's eyes...that he lives in a world where you have to be perfect in order to survive, and having any kind of weakness just won't due.

While Twilight continues to be clueless about Fiona's feelings for him among other things, what he does realize at the end of this arc is his own feelings - that he does have a weakness. He's beginning to understand more than ever that a spy can't afford to be anything but perfect. And yet, his refusal to kill Yuri, which is a result of him caring about Yor (even though he gave Fiona his usual "for the mission" reason, she saw right through it) is conflicting him even more.

I also have to point out how considerate Yor was of Loid's exhaustion - she completely pushed Yuri away, even after noticing he was injured. She didn't even invite him to stay and have tea with them!

What Twilight was about to say to Yor (in his mind) before Yuri interrupted is debatable, but going by his previous line of thought, it was probably something bittersweet like "which is why...once Operation Strix is over, I'll have to leave the Forgers" or possibly something more immediate, where he now realizes how compromised he truly is and so might reconsider the stipulations of Operation Strix even before it's over. Though I think it's more of the former since his thoughts in the shower in the next scene make it seem like he's not ready to do anything drastic yet, but the idea is still gnawing at him.

Fiona had noticed his leaking emotions way back when she was first introduced, but this is the first time Twilight himself is realizing it and not denying it. Whether anything major will change in his actions from now on is yet to be seen. Will there be another aftermath chapter or two with Twilight still being jostled by this realization? Or will things go back to normal now and he'll brush those feelings aside for another day? It seems like Yuri has been totally thrown off the scent, so his identity should be safe for the time being. Will Anya get to read his mind the next morning and finally find out everything that happened? The next new chapter won't be out for another 4 weeks, so brace yourself for a grueling wait!

#spy x family #spy family #sxf #spyxfamily #loid forger #yor forger #twiyor #sxf manga #sxf manga spoilers #sxf spoilers

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arkhammaid · 2 months

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— ˚₊‧⁺˖THE LIGHTNING ON TRACK | THE PRE-SEASON TESTING

fandom. formula one & mcu

about. it's pre-season testing time!

content warnings. smau & written parts, written in 3rd person & lowercase, not edited & proofread

word count. 1.1k

notes. we're dipping into the season, slowly but surely... this took me some time to finish, i literally didn't know what to write for testing ://

"we are here in bahrain, pre-season testing for all teams in 2025, welcome everyone!" croft greets the whole world, as live footage is shown across the devices. the camera spans over the whole track, to each individual paddock until stopping at the final one, in blinding white.

"the season is starting with a bang, for the first time in formula one, we will see a stark owned team on the track! in white and chrome they are, an iconic design and everyone is eager to see what the stark manufactured cars can do!"

"how right you are, david! welcome, i'm will buxton and i have someone of interest with me here. right here, in front of the stark racing garage- y/n stark, number 95, one of the drivers for stark racing. so, y/n, tell me, how are you feeling? are you ready for the first time in the car?"

"hello will, thank you for having me. well, it's not quite the first time in the car, we had a testing back in miami at the end of january, but it's something different to be officially here now. but i'm feeling confident- we have our data, the predicted numbers and we think we'll be able to achieve them."

"so, no major upgrades or changes planned?" y/n shakes her head with a grin.

"do you really think i'm going to answer that question? ask me again, when we're done." will laughs at that, nodding his head in understanding.

"understandable, but i will hold you onto that! gonna knock on the garage doors three days later." y/n laughs again, head thrown back. "but, y/n, how does it feel to be on the paddock? have you met the rest of the drivers yet? made any new friendships?"

"well..."

"can you turn that off?", carlos gruffly asks his teammate, who just waves his hand at him as answer. with a groan, he stares at the tv, showing the first driver interview of the day, y/n stark. her voice washes over him, empty answers of being excited to properly meet everyone and maybe even bond with a few drivers.

"i don't know why you're so obsessed, perceval." charles immediatly splutters, waving his hands to deny the accusation.

"i'm not! but it's so interesting! tony stark is literally here, aren't you at least a bit excited? arthur said that y/n is like him!"

"what, arrogant? self-centered?"

"carlos! stop being so negative! i meant like- a genius! someone who raced with her back in f3 is friends with arthur, i forgot his name, but apparently y/n constantly does calculations while she drives. that's why she's so good overtaking." carlos just sighs and leaves charles to whatever he's doing right now. he has no interest in this circus.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ 🏎️ ˖⁺‧₊˚—

kevin watches the interviews from the sideline, completely satisfied with how everyone is hounding y/n and leaving him in peace. of course he had his fair amount of questions and interviews, but much less than his teammate.

it has been a whirlwind, ever since he joined the team. strange, for a while, everything seeming so futuristic, but now his glasses feel like a another part of his race suit he's putting on every day.

the team has been welcoming, open to his input, but it's very clear to him that y/n is their star driver and he's the support. and he's alright with it. of course, winning a championship would mean everything, but he knows he's not going to continue this forever. especially not when he has a kid, he's missing so much... something he dislikes, because family means everything to him.

this is why his contract is only for two years. if he wishes to continue and his results at the end of the season are steady, tony promised him a seat as long he wishes for. he is incredibly thankful for this offer, fully knowing that this kind of support doesn't exist in formula one.

"ready to go?", he asks, after y/n's press officer ushers her out of the mob called journalists.

"so ready to go", she grins. but they're not alone, the netflix camera's immediately surround them and capture their walk to the garage. people part from them, staring openly at the drivers. one of the most iconic footage later shown in the drive to survive documentary.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ 🏎️ ˖⁺‧₊˚—

"so, here he goes, kevin magnussen for stark racing, leaving his side of the garage. the car is looking incredible, i really like the color!", comments crofty and the other men immediately begin to chatter as well. throwing in rumors and hearsay about the team, they expertly fill the silence of kevin doing his first lap on the track.

"last to leave the garage and on the track, all eyes are on stark racing- oh and there he goes, picking up the speed!"

"his tyres seem to have warmed up- woah! look at the smoothness! kevin seems to be home in his car, his struggles from the last season are nowhere to be seen", adds jenson, while the cameras continue to follow the white car with the number 20.

"and there he goes! on medium tyres, setting the third fastest lap already, this looks definitely promising." will shares his own thoughts, reminding the viewers that there is definitely a possibility of stark racing going at least one or two seconds faster.

"by the looks of it, the stark racing team seems to be satisfied- honestly can't tell much, the glasses are hiding too much", jokes another man and all of them laugh. "bloody starks, am i right?"

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ 🏎️ ˖⁺‧₊˚—

the testing days are filled with endless laps and data, followed by long hours of debrief. they've already proven that they're fast, slotting themselves on the upper half of the grid, sticking close to the more experienced teams.

speculations are thrown around, is stark racing sandbagging? of course they must be, while others think that this is the best they can do. neither of the drivers or the team principal lose a word on it, instead they repeat always the same statements.

"we delivered what we predicted."

"we tested our theories, confirmed or debunked them, so the past three days have been very productive."

"we're exactly there where we want to be and we know our next steps."

empty words and yet the journalists pounce on them as if they're the next headlines. the whole world watches with eagerness as stark racing finishes up their debut in formula one and they impatiently await the first race of the season.

taglist. @lilypadlover , @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie , @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @aimixx , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @akiraquote , @kiiyoooo , @nichmeddar , @nothingfuninthislife , @minkyungseokie , @fionaschicken , @lyrasconstellation , @spideybv28 , @keii134 , @starssfall , @tpwkstiles, @fangirl-dot-com , @nichmeddar , @lady-laura-speaks , @nikfigueiredo , @hinamesgigantica , @brakingboundaries , @almostjollypizza , @yoremins , @raizelchrysanderoctavius , @celesteblack08 , @watermelon-sugars-things , @lighttsoutlewis , @radiantdanvers , @vellicora, @sterredem , @hiireadstuff , @jolixtreesunn , @mypage-myfandoms , @nelly187 @greeneyesandsunshine , @fulla02 , @welovediaaxx , @whyamireadingthis , @67-angelofthelordme-67 , @blueberry64857959 , @winchesterwife27 , @six-call , @skywalker1dream , @mellowarcadefun , @cherry-piee , @peterholland04 , @motorsportloverf1 , @renarots , @msbyjackal , @woozarts , @leclucklerc , @yl90

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ARKHAM MAID 2024

#f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 female driver #female driver #fem!driver #f1 fanfic #kevin magnussen x reader #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ lightning on track #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ creations

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shuttershocky · 7 months

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Which character/operator's dynamics with the doctor you enjoyed the most??

Kal'tsit and Doctor. No one else comes close to how incredibly funny Kal'tsit's antagonistic relationship with the Doctor is once you get a good idea of who these two actually are.

Once you read through a Walk in the Dust and Vigilo you realize these two have such a strong antagonistic relationship their attitudes actually change when in the presence of each other.

Kal'tsit everywhere is the immortal, wandering doctor. She is in the background of every major event in the history of the continent, unparalleled in her experience and unshakeable in her composure. You could flip the truck she's riding in with a bomb in order to hijack her convoy and she doesn't look surprised. She goes to dinner parties dressed in a tuxedo and then engages a demonic supersoldier in mortal combat and rips a chunk out of their throat before going back inside and telling the guests some wild animals had entered the gardens. You could tell her you wish to commit suicide by murdering the two politicians who killed your lover and when she sees she can't dissuade you she helps you assassinate one of them with poison. She's seen the rise and fall of entire civilizations, there's nothing that isn't just another Tuesday for her.

But then you put her near Doctor and the petty bitchiness hidden for millennia comes right the fuck out. She will criticize their actions. She will criticize their clothes. She will criticize their eating habits. When there's bad news to tell Amiya she makes Doctor tell her instead of doing it herself, and god help them if Doctor's newest shenanigans costs astounding company property damage.

Meanwhile Doctor's normally this unhinged, tactical genius that slightly unnerves everyone but everyone relies on to save the day. They eat originium slugs, they pour boiling water into their mouth to cook noodles with, every god or monster of incredible power is entrusted to Doctor to handle because their unhinged, almost alien ways allow them to foster good relationships with the stranger beings aboard their landship.

But also when they have to do anything that eventually will be reviewed by Kal'tsit, the perfect walking disaster in them comes out. They go to Achuahalla and the plane gets shot down by a rocket, then they bring the domestic terrorist with them back as a new employee. They go to Columbia to ink a business deal with Papa John's, then get thrown into jail for allegations of running an illegal drug ring that Papa John's is the distributor for (Doctor's excuse is that "they learned it from you", the perfect reply to piss off Kal'tsit). They return to the ancient sacrophagus that Kal'tsit originally sealed Doctor in, only for Doctor to have a flashback of a completely different woman doing it instead. They go to Siesta for a beach vacation and then leave it having interfered in the sovereignty of a city-state and also got into concert brawls. They go to Kjerag for a ski vacation and leave it having sparked a civil war that resulted in all power being coalesced into the Saintess, because the scion of the Silverash family really, really likes them and wanted to force them into helping him seize power.

Kal'tsit and Doctor are supposed to be these two impossibly ancient beings that operate beyond the boundaries of humanity. They're alien almost, in both their strange bodies (does anyone remember that Doctor's blood can be used to heal wounds) and their ways.

But when they actually interact they're the most ridiculously human pair: a long-winded nag and a disastrous buffoon, attempting to raise a teenage girl that's had to be mature enough for all three of them.

#arknights

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catsharky · 4 months

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May I ask for some details about your Tav? What do you mean by hasnt really lived as a tiefling before? Like literally has never seen another tiefling? Seems like being abducted by the mindflayers introduced major life changes to your Tav

I'm sorry this took so long to answer, but I ended up doing a whole bunch of art to answer this!

Ember has a really extensive backstory that's kind of long, but the short version of it is: she was caught in the crossfire of a deal her parents made with a devil. They couldn't have a child of their own because her mother was too severely ill, so they made the deal in the hopes of returning her health and along with it the ability to bear children. Unfortunately devil deals being what they are, they ended up with Ember who the devil stole from her birth parents.

Her mom was a high elf and her dad a half-elf, and her mom's side of the family were quite vocally anti-Tiefling. Because of her mother's health problems, however, they couldn't just sever contact with her parents because they relied on their money to cover the cost of healers, expensive potion ingredients and the like. They couldn't be trusted not to be a threat to Ember though, so the decision was made to disguise her as their biological daughter throughout her childhood.

Here's an age chart!

As a result, Ember didn't even know she was a Tiefling until she was around 4 or 5, when she began to present as a sorcerer and accidentally undid the disguise spell (she ends up a bard thanks to her mom, but her control of magic comes from sorcery).

Before the events of the game, the most time she ever spent as a Tiefling was when she was 13- when her mom died and her dad disappeared, the disguise spell having relied on her mum's magic. She went through hell for a while after that and as soon as she could learn how to cast the spell herself, she jumped at the chance and went back to living as her old half-elf self. So when she gets taken by the Nautiloid, it's her being forced to actually live as her real self and as a Tiefling for the first time. As a result she doesn't have great control over her tail, because she's just straight up not used to having one.

She also spends a lot of Act 1 jumpscaring herself whenever she walks by a mirror lmao.

I do plan to do some comics that are set earlier in the game at some point, and those ones will explore more of her backstory. What I've done so far has just happened to be set in Act 3, after she's already sorted a lot of her shit out. I just have no idea when that'll actually be!

#rhubarbtonapalooza #sharky speaks #I could go on pretty much forever about Ember's backstory if I let myself #So please feel free to ask more questions about her please enable me #I tried to write her with the same level of complexity as the other companions including Durge #so she has a full character arc and side quest that resolves in Act 3 #but I wrote the main stuff out in bullet points once and it ended up being 1.5k words #so there's a reason I can't just lay it all out in one go #I'd end up with Do You Love the Colour of the Ember Lore #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #my tav #sharky's tav #tav: ember #oc: ember #Ember lore drop #sharky art

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artemismoorea03 · 6 months

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DP x DC Prompt: Delayed Reactions

Danny's powers didn't activate all at once after going into the Ghost Portal, in fact they hadn't even fully realized what happened for months. They assumed the change in appearance was just their eyes adjusting to the flashing because of how quickly it appeared then vanished again. But, as more things started happening to Danny and started changing, Danny couldn't help but wonder if maybe his accident had resulted in more than a permanent star that ran up his left arm to his heart.

He didn't tell Sam or Tucker though, after all Meta-Humans were so rare that there was no way they would believe him! Plus, if he told them then it would only be a matter of time before more people knew. So, he kept it to himself.

Which worked until Summer Break when Danny went to Gotham with his parents and Jazz for a Ghost Hunting Exp. Danny had no interest in 'Ghost Hunting' (though he had begun to do more of it after he realized that he could kind of sense and see the ghosts), so instead of listening to the expo he was going around learning more and more about the city. Gotham had some amazing other exhibits, an observatory, museums with huge space displays, and more interesting things than Ghosts.

Plus, it had the highest population of heroes!

Danny didn't expect that his second day in Gotham would end up so differently from the first one. It all started with a little girl about nine who had been crossing the street when chaos broke loose. An explosion on the next block rocked the entire city, causing Danny's skin to crawl, but what mad him sick was the fact that the explosion had thrown a car directly towards the little girl and a crowd of people.

Everybody else scattered, including the woman the girl had been walking with who seemed to forget her in an instant as they got out of the way of the car. But the little girl didn't move, just started terrified at the approaching car.

"Get out of the way!" People shouted to the girl, but unlike the rest of them Danny's instincts were screaming one thing.

Protect.

Danny ran forward as quickly as his legs could manage as he tried to beat gravity itself. Danny made it to the girl without a second to spare, wrapping her into a hug.

"Please work, please work, please work!" Danny thought, struggling to get his powers to work as he felt himself turn intangible with the girl turning intangible with him.

No sooner did his powers kick in did the car slam into the ground where they were standing before it bounced and rolled down the street, leaving a dent around the two of them but leaving both Danny and the girl untouched.

Danny let his power drop, as the girl looked at him for a second before she burst into tears and hugged him. Danny's vision swam as he hugged her back, fixing her hair.

"I gotcha, you're okay..." Danny told her, then let her go as the woman who had left her in the street called her.

The girl sniffled, then ran to the woman as Danny tried to stand. He could hear people talking, cheering and some were even applauding but it all sounded really far away. He could also hear another car approaching, but as his vision faded and his body felt as though it was filled with led nothing felt important anymore.

---

The Bats had tried to race to get to the civilians before the car hit them and had failed. Thankfully, the majority of people had managed to get out of the way to a safe distance but there was a little girl still in the road. None of them wanted to see the girl die, but they knew realistically they couldn't make it to her.

But somebody did.

No sooner did the stranger save the girl and let her go did they collapse into the middle of the street.

Suddenly it was no longer 'save civilians from a car that got partially blown up in Penguins newest scheme' but 'get the unknown Meta out of the street before his face was exposed to every media outlet throughout the city'.

#dc x dp prompt #dp x dc prompt #my prompts #I need to stop doing these so late at night #I have no idea if this makes sense #I hope so though #feel free to do with this whatever you want.#these prompts are just because I can so anybody who wants to can add onto them #my brain just goes brrr

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cupid-styles · 8 months

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ginger ale (sugar daddy!h)

Harry is a rich CEO and Mia is a grad student that's eight years younger. It just so happens that they may be the answer to one another's problems.

Content warnings: age gap (8 years), sugar daddy dynamic, alcohol, smut, slight daddy kink

Word count: 8k (grab a snack and a bev and enjoy!)

masterlist | talk to me

Mia's never been attracted to older men but somehow, she's found herself sitting at a two-person table at one of the fanciest Italian restaurants in the city, nibbling on the end of the straw in her glass of ginger ale, awaiting the arrival of her date, a man who is eight years older.

To be fair, she got to the restaurant 20 minutes early and forced herself to sit in her car. She tried occupying herself by scrolling through Instagram and TikTok and playing a few rounds of Candy Crush, but she couldn't shake the anxiety bubbling in her stomach.

She weighed her options: she could drive away, go home, change out of this ridiculously uncomfortable outfit, order Chinese and rot on the couch all night. Or, she could text him here!:), go inside, say she's here for a reservation under Styles (a fake last name, she's almost sure of it), and actually give this guy a chance.

Mia desperately wishes she doesn't have a moral compass because indeed, all she wanted to do was binge watch New Girl until her eyes feel like they're going to roll out of her head, but she'd feel so shitty for standing her date up. Grumbling, she turned her car off, stuffed her keys in her purse, and walked into the restaurant, 15 minutes early.

Thankfully the staff doesn't bat an eye at her arrival time, instead escorting her to a rather private corner of the restaurant.

"This is Mr. Styles' table, but please let us know if you'd prefer something more suitable to your needs," The hostess explains as she places entree and drink menus in front of Mia.

"Oh, this is great, thank you," She replies, trying not to let any inklings of shock seep through her voice. This guy had his own table? Her eyes bulge as she glances over the wine list, her eyebrows raised slightly at the triple digit numbers accompanying fancy French names. How rich did he have to be to dine here that often?

Mia's phone buzzes, tearing her gaze away from the overwhelming menu. It's Harry, her date, who says he'll be there soon. Sorry you're waiting on me — order a bottle of wine for us, whatever you like, he'd written, making Mia roll her eyes. He must think far too highly of her if he thinks she knew what any of these wines even are.

She settles on her comfort drink instead, a ginger ale filled to the brim with ice. If this wasn't such a nice place, she would pop ice cubes between her teeth, but she figures that's a major faux pas for first dates at restaurants where a plate of pasta cost upwards of $50.

Despite meeting on a dating app and familiarizing herself with his appearance, Mia knows Harry has arrived before she even sees him. The staff seems to stand up just a little straighter and the baseline hum of conversation tapers off.

When she looks up, she understands exactly why: Harry, whose last name apparently really was Styles, commands a certain presence the second he enters a room. He's striking, fashionable, and charming, floating through the dining area with a luxurious air. Everyone — including Mia — seems simultaneously intimidated and turned on.

Thank god she decided to go on this date.

. . .

Harry is so tired.

Physically, he's been running his body into the ground for the past 8 years or so, ever since he took on the role of CEO at his uncle's company when he retired. He knows that he was insanely fortunate and privileged, and 27 was a rather ridiculous age to run an entire conglomerate. As a result, he feels the incessant need to prove himself and make sure every single one of his employees feel taken care of.

So, he doesn't have much a social life.

He has his core group of friends from college. He's close with his family. He has friends at work, and he attends numerous charity events and galas as an investor. In hindsight, he has it all — except for a romantic partner.

Harry doesn't think that you need a boyfriend or girlfriend for life to be complete, but he's certainly guilty of missing it. He hasn't had a serious partner since college, a sweet girl named Zyla, but they broke up shortly after graduating. Since then, Harry has gone on tons of dates — he knows he had so much, and he wants to share it with someone. However, it seems that all of those people are after the same thing: wealth.

He understands it. Truly, he does, and he doesn't think those people were necessarily bad. But after years upon years of shitty first dates, he's exhausted. His best friend Mitch and his girlfriend Sarah suggested he try out dating apps, so they helped him sign up for Tinder and Bumble, where were fine enough. They were good at helping him scope out people he'd actually mesh well with, but they usually ended in one night stands, never to be heard from again.

Harry is 35. He doesn't want wild sex with strangers anymore.

After a date at a bar with a guy who didn't even pretend like he was interested in him romantically, Harry snapped. If money was all he was good for, he would be upfront about it from here on out. It had gotten him everything else he could've ever dreamed for in this life — a gorgeous penthouse apartment, designer clothes and shoes, non-profit donations galore — so why not just use it to find his forever partner?

That night, after polishing off a bottle of red wine to himself, he swiped onto his dating app of choice, clicked on settings, and deleted his existing bio. Sarah had initially suggested making it about what he liked and what he was looking for, but he was eager to rid his account of its current description: "Born in London, permanent NYC transplant. Love art, books, and fashion. Send me your favorite Fleetwood Mac song."

Without a second thought, he typed in a new bio: CEO. Let me take care of you.

. . .

Harry Styles makes Mia extremely nervous.

He hasn't even sat down yet and her stomach already feels like it's in her throat, her lips parted slightly as she took in his presence. He looks so effortlessly cool, and she's nearly positive she saw his trousers on the Gucci Instagram page last weekend.

"Hey," Harry grins as he approaches the table, shedding his body of the navy blue blazer he wore, "Mia, right?"

"Mhm." She nods tightly, noting at how the waiter pulled Harry's seat out for him, placing the menus out in front of him.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Harry," he says as he settles into his seat. He glances up at the waiter and shoots him a charming smile. "Thank you, John."

John, apparently, quickly shuffles away. Mia squeezes her hands into tight fists under the table while Harry glances over the wine menu, though she was almost positive he was doing it as a courtesy if he knows everyone that works here.

"Did you have a chance to decide on a wine?" he asks, glancing up with raised eyebrows.

"Um, no," Mia mumbles, "I just got a... ginger ale."

She feels incredibly dumb now. What was she even doing here? She's wearing clothes from the clearance section of ASOS and a pair of platform oxfords, meanwhile, Harry's outfit looks like it cost her entire monthly rent.

"Oh, do you not drink? I'm sorry for assuming."

"I do," Mia replies with a shake of her head, her eyes drifting down back down to the drink list, "I just... don't really know any of these... and I also don't know how to pronounce most of them."

"That's okay. Is it alright if I pick one?"

Mia nods and rolls her lips into her mouth. She wonders if it was too late to escape — can she say she has to use the bathroom and try to sneak out the window? This has to be some kind of prank.

"Once we get our entrees, we can talk out the details of the arrangement, should you be interested," Harry murmurs, closing the faux leather of the main menu, "I'm not sure if you came prepared with certain stipulations, but I'm happy to hear any that you have."

Mia's eyes bulge, leaning forward slightly with furrowed eyebrows. "I'm... what?"

Of course, John decided to come back just as Harry's jaw ticked, looking just as confused.

"What can I get you two to eat this evening?" he asks, though Mia barely listens as Harry lists off some random wine, followed by a pasta dish. John looks down at Mia, who swallows harshly, grimacing.

"I'll do the same," she jumbles out. He nods and shoots her a smile before stepping away to put their orders in.

"What do you mean by arrangement?" Mia hisses out, leaning forward and keeping her voice low.

"You're joking, right?" Harry asks, a slight crinkle forming between his brows.

"Do you... what do you think this is?" Mia demands as she digs her fingernails into her palms. Does he think she's a prostitute or an escort? She doesn't think anything on her profile gives off that vibe, and while she knows she isn't dressed as nicely as he is, it isn't enough to warrant such an assumption.

"You... you read my bio, didn't you?" Harry questions, sitting back in his seat, "You understand what I'm looking for?"

"I have no fucking clue what you're talking about, Harry." Mia's teeth are gritted, her jaw set in annoyance.

He leans forward again, glancing over his shoulder to make sure none of the waitstaff is walking by. In a hushed tone, he mumbles something intelligible out.

"What? I didn't hear you."

"I'mlookingforasugarbaby."

"A what? Can you speak up a little?"

"A sugar baby!" Harry whispers out aggressively, clutching the corners of the table. Mia raises her eyebrows in shock and surprise, doing a mental recap of what she knew about Harry — she never would have swiped for him if that's all he was looking for, mainly because the whole concept made her too nervous. Their virtual conversations had been tame, consisting of normal questions about their occupations and hobbies. How did she miss this?

"I... I didn't know that's what you were looking for," Mia replies slowly, "Your profile didn't say anything about that..."

"Yes, it did!" Harry nearly whines, "'Let me take care of you?' That literally implies a sugar baby situation!"

"Are you serious?" Mia asks, her face twisted in a cross between confusion and disgust, "You think people understand that's what that means?"

"Obviously!"

Mia shakes her head and grabs her napkin from her lap, tossing it on the table. She feels so discouraged and frustrated, there's no way this Harry guy wasn't a total creep.

"Wait— Mia, don't go," Harry says, following her lead and standing from his seat, "Please, I'm sorry about the confusion. This isn't a reflection on you whatsoever. Can we just talk? I'll explain why I'm looking for this type of thing, treat you to dinner, no strings attached."

Mia sighs. Harry's expression and tone seem genuine and if she's being completely honest, a little naive, too. She's already here, hungry, and dressed up. It wouldn't hurt to stay.

"Fine," she mutters, plopping back down in her seat, "But you're getting me the cheesecake for dessert. And you're paying for my parking."

A small smile wiggles its way onto Harry's lips. "I'd be honored."

Mia has to look down at the tablecloth so he doesn't see the blush warming her cheeks.

. . .

Over large plates of pasta slathered in decadent sauces, Harry explains why he's in the market for a sugar baby.

"I've never looked for this type of relationship before—"

"Yeah, no kidding."

"Anyway, I'm so used to people only being interested in me for my money so I figured why not try to use it to my advantage, I guess. I'd want it to be as casual as possible... like I really am just looking for someone to come to events with me, maybe hang out on the weekends and go out on dates if we clicked enough."

Mia nods her head as she chews her penne vodka thoughtfully. "And what would I get in exchange?"

"Well, what do you want?" Harry asks through wine stained lips, "Do you have any bills you want paid? Student loan debt? Clothes, electronics, furniture?"

"How rich are you?" Mia questions before sipping on her second ginger ale of the night.

"I'm... definitely wealthy," Harry replies carefully, "My net worth is in the millions, if that tells you anything."

"You could've just said you're a millionaire."

"Are you always this bratty?"

She huffs, leaning back against the plushy velvet of her chair. She takes the lull in the conversation as an opportunity to sincerely contemplate the logistics of this situation: She stayed for the free meal from the rather... attractive, and apparently disgustingly rich man, but was she seriously, actually considering going through with this?

No. It was crazy.

Wasn't it?

"I can see you're having some sort of internal moral battle," Harry murmurs after taking a sip of wine. "I told you, no strings attached here. If you're not interested, it's more than okay."

"I don't know," Mia says, breathing out through her nose as she lowered her fork, "I would be lying if I said I didn't need the... financial assistance, I guess."

"Let's talk money, then," he shrugs, leaning his elbows on the crisp table cloth. "What do you need help with?"

Mia hadn't grown up poor, but she certainly had never been rich. Her parents had modest careers and were now retired. They taught her the importance of saving and paying her bills on time. They instilled education in her as top priority and never pressured her to pick a career that would make her the most money, instead pushing values of true happiness and satisfaction. It's honestly how she ended up in her second year of grad school with hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt under her belt.

"Well, I'm a student and I work part-time. I'm in grad school to become a social worker. I pick up shifts at the university's library when I'm not in class, so probably like... three or four days out of the week."

Harry nods, listening intently. His gaze is intense and it makes Mia's face warm.

"That seems like a lot," he says, a twinge of sympathy creeping into his tone, "You must be tired."

Mia shrugs her shoulders. "I guess."

Admittedly, she's uncomfortable with the apparent empathy Harry emits. She's used to being fairly independent and working herself to the point of burnout, solely because it was what'd she been doing since she was an undergrad. She's never entertained the thought of someone helping her out, let alone with finances.

Pursing his lips, he nods slowly before folding his hands together. "Here's what I'm willing to propose. I usually have one or two events a week, sometimes work-related, sometimes just appearances or charity things. If you'd be willing to be my date to at least one of them, I'm happy to have you quit your job and supplement that income. I can also pay off some of your student loan debt, however much you're comfortable with. I'm more than willing to work around your schedule, so if you can't attend something, that's absolutely fine. If you're struggling with rent or other bills, just let me know, and I can take care of those, too."

Mia's mouth goes dry. Harry speaks entirely too casually about money, let alone paying off massive things in her name that she'd been stressing out about for years. She quickly tucks her straw back between her lips and takes a hearty sip of ginger ale, focusing on the earthy taste and carbonation filling her mouth.

"Why?" She blurts out after swallowing, "You don't know me. I'm just some girl in grad school. For all you know, you'll take me to one of these events and I'll embarrass the shit out of you, or someone will figure out how we got involved. Isn't that worse?"

He hums, contemplating the points Mia had made. They're valid, sure, but they weren't deterring him either.

"What would you have to gain from embarrassing me?" He asks, rolling his lips into his mouth contemplatively. "I've been embarrassing myself for years by going out on dates with people who only want my money to begin with. We both need help and this is the best solution I could think of on my end. There's no pressure to agree, but I just think... well, maybe, we could be the answer to each other's problems."

Mia's worrying her bottom lip between her teeth when John reappears, asking if they wanted any to-go boxes or dessert.

She doesn't order any cheesecake, but she does text Harry late that night as she lays alone in her bed, mentally running back through the night for the thousandth time: If you're still interested, I'll do it.

. . .

Mia doesn't hear from Harry for a few days.

Her mind runs rampant when she doesn't have her nose buried in a textbook doing homework or sitting through three-hour long lectures. She can't help but wonder if he's decided it's not a good fit, or maybe the entire situation was ridiculous to begin with. From what she knew about sugar babies — or what she thought she knew — was that they typically involved some sort of sexual favors in exchange for money, but Harry hadn't mentioned anything about that. All he asked for was for her to accompany him at an event once or twice a week, and he was willing to pay for her bills and chunks of her student loans.

Maybe the entire thing was just too good to be true.

So by day three, that's what Mia assumed. After all, he was a 35 year old millionaire — he definitely could do far better than a stressed out student.

She has an apple cinnamon candle burning and one of those eight hour long lo-fi YouTube videos on her TV, hoping the beat-ridden songs would somehow seep some level of productivity into her brain. She was working on a paper she had due in a couple of days, but she was only four out of 12 pages in, and she had the assignment for the past month.

She was just about ready to give up, blow out her candle, and tucker in for the night when her phone buzzes, the loud vibration echoing against the wood of her coffee table, making her jump. She didn't know what time it is, but she knew it was too late for any normal person to be texting her.

That's why she's only partially surprised when Harry's name pops up on her screen.

I have to go to a charity thing at a museum tomorrow night. It starts at 7 pm. Would you be available?

Mia was slightly confused by this — she thought that he would reach back out at some point to iron out the fine details, but it seemed as though Harry didn't care for those. She mentally goes over her schedule for tomorrow; she has classes from 10 am to 3 pm and she should work on this paper when she gets back.

What time would it end?

Nearly immediately after firing off that text, she tapped at the screen again: also, what are you doing up? It's almost 2 am.

The familiar speech bubble popped up almost instantly. Mia wedged her thumbnail between her teeth, biting at it as she watched the three dots.

It'll probably be over by 11 but I can always get you home earlier if you need. Also, I could ask you the same thing.

She pressed her lips together. There was so much she didn't know about Harry and yet, she couldn't help the way her body warmed ever so slightly at the thought of spending the night on his arm.

11 works for me. Should I know anything about the event or you before we do this? I don't want to embarrass myself by not knowing basic facts about you if I end up talking to people.

Mia's surprised when the dots immediately pop back up, but she supposes he's not doing much at 2 in the morning. She tucks her legs under her body and grabs the fuzzy blanket draped over the back of the couch as his next messages comes through.

Are you suggesting we play some sort of fuckboy 20 questions game?

She snickers at that and imagines the way his eyes widened teasingly, as if her request was as outlandish as asking him to come over for a late night hookup.

Which she would never do, and promises she hasn't fantasized about doing it every night since she saw Harry last.

Call it what you want, I just don't want to get kicked out of some fancy event because I don't even know your middle name.

She takes up her decades-long nervous habit of nibbling on her thumbnail when her phone starts vibrating in her palm, this time signifying an incoming call from Harry. She initially wonders if it's some sort of butt dial, panicking about answering it, but by the fifth ring she figures he would've caught on by now, so she quickly presses the green button and lifts it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"You didn't think we were gonna play 20 questions over text, did you?"

. . .

Harry thinks he could stay up until sunrise talking to Mia.

Conversation flows naturally, like they're childhood best friends and have known each other their whole lives. If he hadn't been born eight years before her in a different country, he would actually wonder if that were the case, but youthful, snappy remarks are enough to remind him that there's no way this girl ever existed in his life before. He would've remembered her, even if they'd only met for a moment.

They talk about anything and everything to soothe Mia's nerves about not knowing basic facts about one another. Her middle name is Lucille and she grew up in Connecticut with an older sister. They bond about being the youngest sibling and having divorced parents. Her comfort food is boxed macaroni and cheese, which makes Harry's nose wrinkle, though she swears it's the perfect meal to eat after a stressful day.

"What should I wear tomorrow night?" Mia asks sometime around 3:15, when their conversation begins to dwindle down. Harry hums and picks at a loose thread on his vintage tee-shirt.

"Any sort of dress will do," he replies casually, "I can always have my stylist send some options over if you'd like, just text me your size."

She snorts at that. "Yeah, I think I'll pass on that. You wore head-to-toe Gucci the other night and I'm pretty sure designer shit runs, like, three sizes too small on women."

"Point taken," Harry admits, backing off. "It's not too fancy of an event so don't stress. Do you have anything in mind?"

"Mm, maybe. I have a pink slip dress I wear on dates sometimes. Do you think that would be alright?"

Harry's stomach twists at the thought of Mia going out on dates with other people, but he quickly shoves the feeling down.

"Sounds pretty," he murmurs, clearing his throat. "Send me a picture before tomorrow night so I can match you."

Mia smiles to herself. "That's cute. I'll see you tomorrow then, yeah?"

"Yeah, my driver will pick you up at 6:30. Sleep tight, Mi."

"G'night, Harry," she says softly before hanging up the phone. She tries to ignore the way her heart warms at the new use of a nickname.

. . .

Mia has had a bad day.

She stayed up too late last night talking to Harry, and she's trying not to give too much weight to the fact that butterflies invade her stomach every time she thinks about their two-hour long conversation. She snoozed her alarm to the last possible minute so she couldn't take a shower before class this morning and her professor called on her when she wasn't paying attention, so she stumbled through some bullshit answer about child psychology like an idiot.

She didn't have time to grab lunch between her second and third classes, so by the time she got home, she was starving, tired, and grumpy, but she had to get ready for Harry's charity event. She stuffs a bagel down her throat and hopes there's decent food before jumping in the shower, pulling on her dress, and doing just enough with her makeup and hair. She's additionally grouchy that she didn't have enough time today to make a dent in her paper that's now due in only three days, but she knows she can only blame herself for poor time management.

When she receives a text from Harry that says "Here x", she tries to take a deep breath to rid herself of the day's worries and anxieties. Typically around this time, she'd be elbow deep in a carton of lo mein from her favorite Chinese restaurant and preparing a eucalyptus-scented bath, but she reminds herself that she already agreed to do this for Harry. And the money.

Her platform sandals click against the sidewalk outside of her home, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of a sleek black town car with a man standing outside of it.

"Mia?" he asks, his lips pressed in a tight line. She nods and he opens the door for her, motioning for her to get inside.

When she climbs in, she sees Harry on the interior, his thumbs tapping against the screen of his phone. He glances up to look at her and her breath stalls for a moment. He's wearing a baby pink silk shirt underneath his blazer, matching the exact shade of her dress.

"Hey," Harry smiles, tucking his phone in his breast pocket, "You look beautiful."

"Your shirt." she points out dumbly.

"What about it? Do you not like it?"

"I love it," she blurts out as the man shuts the car door closed, "I didn't think you were serious about the matching thing."

"That's silly. Why wouldn't I be serious about that?"

"I don't know." she mumbles with a shrug.

"Are you gonna buckle up?" Harry asks, nudging his chin in the direction of her seatbelt. She scrambles, feeling embarrassed as she hoists the strap across her chest, clicking it in. The car gently buzzes to life and glides down the road and out of Mia's neighborhood, just as she realizes she's definitely never been in a vehicle this nice before.

"How was your day?" Harry questions from beside her. Her fingers are wrung together in an awkward position in her lap and she has to clear her throat before answering, tugging the material of her dress down to cover more of her thighs.

"It was actually kinda shitty," Mia admits with a bittersweet smile. "Woke up late and didn't really have time to eat too much and my lectures were boring. And I have this kind of big paper due in a few days that I'm stumped on, so that's that."

Harry wrinkles his eyebrows and she can't tell if it's because he's disappointed or about to reprimand her. She prepares herself for the former based on the age difference, assuming the worst from assumptions she's made.

"I told you we would work around your schedule. If you need to do homework tonight that's perfectly fine, I can have Reese turn around and drop you back off."

Mia's slightly surprised at his soft-spoken response and she relaxes her shoulders at it. Harry notices, but he doesn't say anything.

"It's okay. I still have three days... well two since I probably won't work on it tonight."

"What are you stuck on?" he asks, pressing his lips together. Mia glances down at them for just a moment, but she instantly notices their natural muted pink hue. It reminds her of their first date, when they were stained red from wine. "I obviously don't know much about social work, but sometimes it helps to talk things out."

Mia nods at that before shrugging her shoulders, "I think it's mainly just an environmental thing. I spend most of my days on campus so I just want to go home when classes are done, and my neighbors are loud and I get too distracted at home. I can manage it fine, but I usually need an impending deadline to pressure me to work."

"Mm, yeah, I've been there," Harry replies with a chuckle. "Well, if you need a change of scenery, my place is always available. I have an office and guest room and such, whatever suits you. Won't even bother you to play 20 questions."

She lets out a laugh and shakes her head. "I admit, I didn't mind that distraction."

"Ah, so I'm a distraction now?"

He has that cheeky grin on his face — the teasing one that makes her blush and her heart stutter — and she giggles, forcing herself to look away so he doesn't see the way her face warms.

Maybe tonight won't be so bad.

. . .

Harry likes having Mia on his arm. A lot.

Maybe a little too much, really, but he's blaming it on the two glasses of wine and the lack of food in his stomach. Like Mia, he'd had a busy day with minimal time to eat, let alone breathe, and he probably would've ditched this entire thing if she hadn't agreed to be his date.

He's not even that special of a guest here. He was a frequent donor to the art museums in the city, and he'd supplied the exhibition with a couple of thousand dollars to get it off the ground. He didn't do it for anything other than the fact that he had too much money and didn't know what to do with it, and his sister always asked to visit this particular museum every time she was in town.

Harry discovers that Mia is actually quite good at schmoozing and chatting with wealthy people. She plays the part of Harry's girlfriend well, and the sight makes his throat dry. She's sweet and kind to everyone they talk to, even if they bring up points that are painfully boring, and she wraps her hand around his as they meander around the room, picking at h'ordeuvres and refilling their glasses.

It almost feels natural.

Sometime around 10 pm, though, he can feel her posture slump slightly and yawns begin to escape her. He excuses them from the conversation he was just barely paying attention it and smoothly guides her with his hand at the small of her back.

"'s a matter?" she whispers, her eyes widening. "Did I do something wrong?"

"What? No, of course not. You're getting tired though, hm? I wanna make sure I get you home at a reasonable hour."

Mia blinks a few times, a look of confusion crossing over her face. "You said 'til 11 though, right?"

"There's no reason for us to stay any longer and you've already done so much by being here, Mi," Harry murmurs as he fires off a quick text to let Reese know they're ready to be picked up. "Lemme get you home, okay?"

She doesn't argue any more at that, and that's how he can tell she's genuinely exhausted. He smiles gently and shrugs his blazer off, then wraps it around her shoulders.

"It's gonna be cold out there, temperature was slated to drop a bit," he explains shortly, swallowing at the sight of her in his jacket. "Reese will be here any minute if you're ready to go, though."

Mia nods. As Harry turns on his heel to exit the building, she reaches out without thinking, intertwining their fingers together. He turns instantly, wanting to make sure that she was okay, but all he sees are wide eyes and a furious blush.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she scrambles, dropping his hand, "I... don't know why I did that, I'm sorry, I'm tired."

Harry smirks. "We can hold hands if you want, babe."

She scowls at his teasing tone but nevertheless reaches outward once more to grasp his hand in hers.

"If you make fun of me for this when I'm sober and not as sleepy, I'll kick you in the shins."

He lets out a loud laugh, "Wouldn't dream of it."

. . .

Harry doesn't hear from Mia for two days.

He tries to distract himself with work and the gym, but he's lying if he says he's not checking his phone every five minutes for a text from her. He wants to message her first, but it's been years since he's had... feelings, whatever they may be, for someone, and he doesn't want to overwhelm her. So for two days, he busies himself with going over reports, bringing work home and passing out on the couch with his laptop still open.

Finally, on Thursday night, Harry has Friends on TV while he scrolls mindlessly on Instagram. His phone suddenly alerts him of an incoming call, and his fingers itch at the sight of Mia's name. He doesn't even have it in him to wait 10 seconds before he picks up.

"Harry?" She sounds stressed as he rushes out his name before he's able to say hello.

"Mia?" He echoes her panicked tone, "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

"My paper is due in five hours and I still have four pages to go and I— I don't know what to do, I'm freaking out, I'm so tired and I just— it's worth 70% of my grade and I'll fail the class if I don't—"

"Mi, breathe," Harry cuts her off, placing his elbows on his knees. "What do you need? Do you need to talk it out, read it out loud to me?"

It's silent for a moment and butterflies invade his stomach, wondering if he's pressed too hard. Maybe she just needed to vent.

"I was actually wondering if I could come over and work," Mia says softly. "It's fine if not, I'll be okay—"

"Yes." Harry replies, quick enough to make himself grimace. "Um, yes, of course, the offer still stands. I'll send Reese for you right now and I'll set you up wherever you want."

She breathes a sigh of relief into the receiver, mumbling out a series of "okay"s.

"Did you eat, darling?"

"N-no. I came straight home after work and I... just didn't have time to cook anything."

"Work?" Harry repeats, flashing back to their date two weeks ago, when he told her she could quit her job. "I told you I would supplement your income if you left."

"Well, um... you didn't exactly... pay for me for the event a few days ago and I just thought maybe our... arrangement, um, changed."

"Oh, sweetheart," Harry sighs, lifting his hand to his hair, pulling at the messy roots. "I'm so sorry, I thought... I assumed you would ask when you needed money. I've never done this with anyone else and I didn't even think."

She swallows thickly and pauses on packing her bag to bring to his house.

"Listen, let me order some food and when you get here, we'll work on your paper and I'll send you some money to make up for the other night, alright? We'll iron out the rest of the details, too. I don't want you to keep working yourself to the bone."

"Okay," Mia breathes into the receiver, and the muffled shuffling in the background resumes. "Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Harry. That sounds good."

"Of course. Reese is on his way, I'll see you soon."

"See you."

. . .

Mia wants to cry when Harry unlocks the door of his penthouse apartment.

She's so tired and burnt out and all she could focus on the drive over was whether or not her thesis was good and if she had enough points and data to reach the word count.

She wants to collapse the moment she steps inside, brushing past Harry with a small, forced smile, who is already in a pair of sweatpants, a worn tee-shirt, fuzzy socks and a pair of reading glasses.

The tears actually start when she glances over to the kitchen island to see a bowl of macaroni and cheese and a ginger ale.

"Eat," he murmurs as he reaches his arm out to take Mia's bag. She's stuck in her place though, eyes watering at the sight of her comfort meal in Harry's million dollar apartment. "Mi? You alright?"

She blinks the tears away and parts her lips, looking up at him with wide eyes. "You remembered."

Harry smiles gently and nods, pressing a hand to her upper back and guiding her to the dining room table. "Of course I did."

He shuffles down the hallway as Mia stuffs a few forkfuls of macaroni in her mouth. She doesn't realize how utterly starving she is until right now, and she has to admit that having some food in her system is helping soothe her anxiety.

Harry meanders back out as she's sipping on her ginger ale, "Okay, I set your stuff up in my office. Plugged your computer in, put your phone on do not disturb. I'll be in my room if you need anything."

"Wait," Mia jumps up, glass in hand. "Uh... I'm sure you worked all day and the last thing you want is to hang out while I write this paper, but would you... stick around, maybe hear some of my ideas out? I tend to get a little loopy when I'm stressed."

A dimpled grin wiggles its way onto Harry's face.

"I'd love to, Mia."

. . .

"Harry? Can you read this and tell me if it makes sense?"

It's been two hours of quiet typing, discussing Mia's thesis, and Harry playing mindless games on his phone until she asks him to go over something with her. He's exhausted — they both are, but she only has an hour before the deadline and they have no choice but to keep trucking on.

She hands him her laptop and he peeks through his glasses, reading the highlighted paragraph. It's something about community-based learning opportunities connecting to abuse victims, and while the only relevant knowledge he has is from a freshman psychology course, Mia is knowledgeable and great at what she does. She breaks down concepts in a way that's easy to understand and listening to her talk about something she's passionate about makes his heart swell with joy.

"Looks great, Mi," he murmurs as he passes her laptop back, "How much more do you have left?"

"That was actually it." She says with a bright smile despite her tired eyes. "I can submit it now as long as all that sounds good."

Harry grins and rises from the en-suite couch, stretching his arms out. Mia can't help but notice the sliver of his torso revealed as he bends back slightly and she swallows, refocusing back to the screen.

"D'you wanna stay over, darling? It's already 3 and I bought a six-pack of ginger ale that I won't drink."

Mia's heart tightens as she clicks 'submit', shutting her laptop and looking up at him.

"Are you sure that's alright? You've done so much for me already, I don't wanna be a bother."

"Not a bother," Harry mumbles, nodding his head in the direction of the hall, "Also, send me your Venmo so I can send some money over, hm?"

"Harry— wait, about that," she scrambles up from the desk, wringing her hands together behind her back as she steps towards him, "I don't want you to pay me for that night."

"What?"

"I don't know if this is... presumptuous of me, but I had a really nice time being your date. And I don't want you to pay me for that time."

"Oh," Harry mutters, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. "You need money though, don't you?"

"Well, I'm not at your status but that's not why I'm here. Or why I went with you the other night."

"What?"

Mia swallows and takes a deep breath. "I like hanging around you, Harry. I like who you are. I don't want this to be a financial exchange if... if you want the same thing."

"Really?" Harry asks, blinking owlishly at the girl, "You... you don't want me for my money?"

She shakes her head. "No. I don't."

"I like you," he blurts out, making a smile appear on her lips. "I don't want that arrangement either."

Her shoulders relax and her smile turns into a grin. He steps closer to her and tentatively reaches out to press a hand to her hip, waiting to see if she'll reject his touch.

"Can I kiss you?" Harry asks softly, glancing down at her mouth. "I've been dying to since that first night."

Mia nods quickly, breathing out an affirmative answer. He leans forward and smears their lips together, nearly moaning out in relief from the feeling of closeness he'd been dying for. She stands on her tippy-toes and wraps her arms around his neck, pressing her chest up against his. It's warm and wet and so nice, but he forces himself to break away, leaning her forehead against his.

"That was nice." she murmurs, little puffs of air leaving her mouth. He nods eagerly and squeezes her hip.

"Perfect," he whispers. "Just... don't wanna rush things."

Mia raises an eyebrow, glancing down when she realizes Harry's hard length against her thigh. He grimaces in embarrassment — typically he's able to control himself far better, not getting a boner from a two minute kiss, but he's been dreaming about finally getting to kiss her.

"Oh," she sighs, and Harry swears he notices a slight glint in her eyes when she glances up at him. "You feel.. big."

He breathes out a chuckle, "Don't stroke my ego, sweetheart, can only take so much tonight."

"Can I... am I allowed to touch?" Mia questions, her voice soft and peeked with curious. Her eyelashes flutter as she peeps up at him, biting down on her bottom lip.

"Only if you want to. Don't feel pressured to do anything, it'll go away on its own."

Harry's honest in his answer, not wanting her to feel obligated by any means, but he's lying if he says he isn't thrilled when she slowly sinks to her knees, palming at his crotch on her way down.

"Fuck," he mutters, swallowing harshly at her sweet doe eyes batting up at him.

"When's the last time someone took care of you?" she murmurs as she gently tugs his sweatpants down, leaving him in a navy blue pair of briefs. His cock is nearly bursting out of them and she licks her lips at the visual, her mouth parting slightly.

"Doesn't matter," Harry replies in a strained voice. She pulls his underwear down to reveal his painfully hard cock, slapping up against his lower stomach with a bubble of pre-cum at the tip. "Wanna take care of you, darling."

Mia giggles at that and begins to pepper kisses along the tops of his thighs. Her fingertips wiggle between his legs, just below his balls, encouraging him to part them so she can sponge kisses along the skin there.

"Can I touch, please?" she asks, looking back up at him. He nods and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, groaning when her hand wraps around the base, squeezing lightly. "I was right. Your cock is big and pretty."

"You're gonna make me cum just from that dirty mouth." Harry mutters, lulling his head to the side as she slowly pumps his length. She moves her mouth to hover over his length and spits, letting saliva dribble from her mouth onto his skin. The mix of her spit and his pre-cum are enough lubrication to help her jerk him at a steady pace, and she smiles when she hears his choppy breathing from above.

Mia mouths over the tip of his cock and sticks her tongue out, licking up the leaking fluid. "Mm, you taste good," she mumbles, almost as if Harry wasn't meant to hear her, "I want you to fuck my face and cum down my throat, please."

He chokes at her casual tone and reaches down to thread his fingers through her hair. "Are you sure, baby? 'M perfectly content with just watching you on your knees like this."

With her cheek pressed against his thigh, she smiles brightly at the use of the pet name, still nodding her head at his question.

"Mhm. I usually don't like deep-throating but your cock is really nice... wanna taste you and feel you burst in my mouth."

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me."

She lets out a giggle as Harry slowly guides his cock into her mouth. She takes him with ease, relaxing her throat until she's taken most of him. He inhales sharply through his nose as she takes initiative and begins bobbing up and down, drool starting to leak from the sides of her mouth. He groans as he watches her, growing comfortable when he sees how eager she is, and moves his hips in time with her movements until her nose is flush against his pelvis.

"Fuck, Mia," Harry moans when she gags around his tip. Mascara-stained tears flow from her eyes and down her cheeks, but she doesn't give an inkling a discomfort, only doubling down on her efforts with a muffled whimper.

She releases for a moment and he's prepared to ask if he's being too rough as she wipes spit from her chin, "You can go harder, I'm fine. Also, is it alright if I call you daddy?"

"Jesus Christ," Harry guffaws, allowing his head to duck back fully now, "Yeah, sweetheart, choke yourself on daddy's cock."

Mia grins and squeezes her thighs, instantly diving back in. Harry bucks his hips, fucking her throat deeper and faster as his orgasm quickly unravels in his body. Lightning zips throughout him, his groans quickly getting louder every time she gags around his length.

"I'm gonna cum," Harry warns, the familiar feeling building. He looks down at her and watches her greedily take him, and that's all he needs before he's exploding. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, fuck—"

He's filling up her mouth with rapid ropes of warm cum and she moans at his taste, letting him empty his balls and continue using her throat. He breathes harshly as his peak slowly ends and she slides off of his sensitive cock, cum spilling out the corners of her mouth.

Without a word, he pulls her up and surges forward, pressing their lips together. She squeaks in surprise but eagerly kisses him back, their tongues swapping the fluid he just emptied into her mouth. They part with harsh breaths, Mia clutching his shirt with tight fists.

"Was that okay?" she asks as he wipes the remaining mix of spit and cum from her lip.

He smirks and shakes his head, "You're silly for even asking that. It was amazing."

"Mm, good."

"C'mon, I'm not letting you go home at this hour. You can stay in the guest room if you don't want to sleep with me."

"I just swallowed your cum, I think you owe me a cuddle, Styles."

He lets out a loud laugh and tugs at her hand, out in the direction of the hallway and to his bedroom, "Whatever you want, darling."

. . .

The next morning, Mia wakes up in a huge, comfy mattress, surrounded by luxurious tufts of white duvet.

For a minute, she forgets where she is, until she's reminded of the night before. She blushes at the overwhelming happiness that floods her body, remembering the way Harry held her all night and pressed kisses to her cheeks and forehead every time he woke up.

When she opens her eyes, she's expecting to see him, but she's met with an empty mattress. She sits up with furrowed brows until she zeroes in on a folded note on his pillow with her name and a heart next to it.

Smiling gently, she opens it.

Morning, sweetheart. Got called into the office early and you looked too sweet to wake up. Make yourself at home, feel free to invade my closet or fridge.

Leaving you my credit card to treat yourself to something nice, too — just because we're not in this arrangement anymore doesn't mean I won't take care of you financially.

xx daddy

Mia squeals and falls back against the bed.

704 notes · View notes

wooahaes · 1 month

Text

taste test

pairing: non-idol!jun x gn!reader

prompt: soulmate au series. 11/13

word count: 3.9k~

warnings: major food mentions throughout the entire fic!! mentions of reader being impulsive at some points.

daisy’s notes: i love when i get to write jun just being a sweetie btw

summary: Jun has grown accustomed to the way his soulmate eats. He hopes they don’t hate him for the way he snacks and sneaks bites of his cooking, or for the way he experiments in the kitchen sometime. But running a restaurant means he’s constantly evolving the menu… So if it leads the two of you together, then that’s good, right?

Jun turned ten years old and was… upset, to say the least, that he didn’t have a soulmate. His mother had smoothed his hair back gently and told him not to worry. If he didn’t have a soulmate, it would change nothing about him. He was still the smart little guy she had raised so lovingly, and it took nothing away from his worth. And if he did have a soulmate, then hopefully he would find them one day if so he chose. She supported him wholeheartedly, and Jun would look back on the memory with nothing but undying love for his mother for handling the situation so well. Of course, it took a few days for Jun to realize that the flavors he kept tasting on the back of his tongue were more than just cravings and his imagination… but that didn’t change the gentle comfort his mother had given him. She’d held his hand at the doctor, too, and throughout the tests to make sure that all was well with him.

His doctor had straightened up the papers on his desk—results of said tests, no doubt—and looked at Jun’s mother. “It’s the most common sign,” he said, and relief crossed her face immediately. “But it still happens.”

His mom had questions. Jun just focused on the lemon-flavored lollipop he’d been given, mind wandering a bit. Apparently, it was common enough for doctors to hand them out to kids to soften the blow of whatever came next in visits like this. Soulmates were normal enough, but Jun knew as much as his mother that some people had… less ideal soulmate marks. One of his classmates felt her soulmate’s pain (sometimes so bad that she cried, the feeling so new to someone with only so many years of life lived). One of his teacher’s had yet to meet her soulmate at the beginning of the year, only for sparks to literally fly when she ran into a new member of staff an hour later. None of his classmates had been hurt by the slight shock, but Jun couldn’t imagine having a mark like that—even if his teacher swore that it just felt soothing. Adults lied to kids all the time just to put on a brave face, after all.

It’d been a lie to say that Jun’s sign had no influence on him and his life. He had learned to cook alongside his mother and step-father so that he could take care of himself in the future, yes… but it did help him when he was trying to figure out what his soulmate was eating. His taste buds matured more and more with age, and eventually he liked to think he had a pretty solid understanding of what his soulmate was eating. He could pick out the sweetness of vanilla ice cream on apple pie, the buttery crust and cinnamon and ginger and nutmeg pointing him in the right direction. He knew the umami of different meats and the savory sauces they were cooked in. He had to adapt sometimes based on what he had available… but Jun would meet those cravings he felt, just to understand his soulmate a little better. Not that anyone complained when he did: his family adored his cooking, his friends loved a free meal, and his coworkers weren’t going to turn down leftover cookies and whatnot when he brought them in during his work study job in college. What was the point in making so much food if he couldn’t ensure the people he cared for were well fed?

That was what led him to dropping out of one school (sorry, dreams of being an actor) and pursuing culinary school in the end. He went through years of long hours and endless studying just to end up where he was now: standing in front of an empty building, arms folded across his chest. A few of his friends stood there with him, admiring the place he was officially renting out. It had taken a while to save up and get approved for loans and square away all of the business side of things (and even still, he had orders to make and so, so much more work ahead of him)... But holding the keys in his hand made it all real.

This was step one of many for finding his place. And if it led his soulmate to him, then he would be happy.

Everything was wrong, and Jun couldn’t figure out what the problem was.

The restaurant was doing well, thankfully. He wasn’t in the red, although business could be better. People liked having authentic Chinese cuisine, and Jun was more than happy to provide it and share more of his heritage… and occasionally pack a takeout container a little more full for the college student who looked on the edge of a breakdown. But the restaurant could be doing better, making more money, and that meant he needed to make adjustments. He’d gone over survey cards, trying to figure out what needed to be fixed, and that was what led him to now. He’d been cooped up in his apartment for days now, trying to perfect a dish from his childhood that he couldn’t get right. Mingyu was sitting at the counter, muttering something to Minghao as the two (alongside Seokmin) tried to figure out what element was missing from it all. Seokmin suggested something sweet, but Jun had shot it down when Seokmin suggested a little more sugar: he’d already tried adjusting the amount, sorry. He’d even tried brown sugar, honey, and plenty of other alternatives, just to see if maybe he’d been going in the wrong direction.

One of his arms was draped over his eyes as he laid across the couch. What was missing…? He could call his mom, but part of him wanted to figure it out for himself. The answer was right there on the tip of his tongue, his lips almost tingling in the strangest way.

“It feels like it should be obvious,” Seokmin sighed, toying with the bracelet around his wrist. “Shouldn’t it be?”

It was. It had to be. That was why it was so infuriating. Jun turned over with another sigh, shutting his eyes. It was as if the answer was burning within him now, yet still out of reach.

“Maybe it isn’t sweet,” Mingyu picked up another piece of chicken, holding it up to the light for a moment, as though it’d give him the answer. “It’s already sweet as it is… I don’t think making it sweeter would help.”

That burning had traveled to the back of his tongue now, and he jerked up. Wait a second. What the hell was his soulmate eating? He knit his brow together, frowning. This wasn’t the time for them to be messing around with some spice challenge—and judging by the cold, mild taste that subdued that heat, that must have been what they were doing. Yet once the taste of milk had disappeared, the burning was already back. What the hell was his soulmate doing? That mild taste washed over his tongue again after a moment, only to be followed again by a heat that nearly made his eyes water.

Jun tore off of the couch, immediately rushing to the cabinets. That cooling sensation hit him again, and the burning never came back, but Jun could see great, big neon signs when they were right in front of him. He’d added a little to begin with, but maybe…

“Jun?” Minghao watched as Jun pulled a container from the cabinet, making his way over to the pot. “What are you?”

He mixed in more red pepper flakes, far more than he’d done the first time. “It’s not spicy enough.”

Seokmin blinked in confusion, looking from Jun to the other two friends present. “I thought it wasn’t supposed to be that spicy.”

“It’s still supposed to have a kick,” Minghao said, sniffling. Of course Minghao wouldn’t have caught it: the poor guy was still recovering from a cold. “Jun, I thought you—”

Jun tested the sauce, shutting his eyes… and there it was. How the hell did you…? Maybe you were like him and understood food, too. Or maybe you remembered the previous times he’d eaten this dish and realized it wasn’t burning your mouth enough. The only real question that remained was what the hell did you decide to eat? He paused, wondering if you were out there, eating raw peppers or squirting hot sauce into your mouth just to send him a sign. He paused, looking down at the bottle of red pepper flakes. Now that he was thinking about it, the taste was exactly what he was looking for—

No. You didn’t. No. He looked up, brows raising as he processed this new theory. Some people could handle red peppers well, but apparently you couldn’t (at least not raw) considering you had to douse the capsaicin with milk or something quickly to try and spare yourself that pain. All of it was just to send him this signal that something was missing and you knew what it was. He found himself smiling. He hadn’t even met you yet, and already he was a little endeared to you.

He returned the favor to you later, though. The cravings hit him in that weird way that made him feel like you were taste testing, and Jun didn’t think twice before shoving half a lemon into his mouth. He’d recognize the dish you were making later, but he didn’t care about the weird looks that the others had given him. Minghao, who knew the deal, had given him this look that was a mix of understanding and downright disgust.

Seungcheol had sighed, getting up from the table. “You’re so weird,” he said, making his way to the kitchen to get the other lemons. “Those were supposed to be a palate cleanser…”

He’d apologized profusely afterward, not realizing that people had paid him any attention, but he hoped you appreciated his help. Maybe he couldn’t help you directly in the way he’d begun yearning to… but he was fine with making a fool of himself like this to help you in return. After all, that’s what a soulmate was for… Right?

“Jun.”

So maybe it was another one of those nights. And maybe Jun messaged the group chat to see who wanted to come with him to get ice cream this late. What was so wrong with that? Soonyoung sat across from him, a cup of sorbet in front of him that he kept pushing around with a pink plastic spoon. Jihoon’s lips were closed around a bright blue one, his frozen yogurt melting in its cup as he watched Jun carefully. And Wonwoo sat beside him, phone in one hand as he held a cone in the other. Jun had carefully picked out every single part of the little sundae that sat in front of him now: the flavor from the back of his tongue, the toppings what he thought you were out there eating on your own sundae… Was this your favorite? Or was it just what you wanted today? He recognized some of the flavors from past times, and yet today the craving was strong enough to drag him out of bed.

“Hm?” A bright green spoon hung from his own mouth, and all he could taste was plastic now. His mind had wandered a bit too much again, but… that was normal when he had his soulmate on his mind. All he wanted to do was meet you and know you. “Yes?”

“You’re thinking about them again,” Wonwoo said in a low, calming voice. There was no accusation in it, no teasing jab at him for getting caught up in silly, sappy thoughts again. Not that his friends teased him for it often—they did, but their teasing was usually saved for Mingyu and Chan and Seungcheol. “Is something on your mind?”

There it was. That’s what they’d all been wondering, after all: the concern was written on their faces, plain as day. Jun pulled the spoon from his mouth, “I’m okay. Just… thinking.”

“About?” Soonyoung’s foot nudged against Jun’s in an attempt to prod more information from him. “You can share if you’d like.”

He pressed his lips together, trying to figure out where to start. He had a lot of thoughts about you—the same as anyone would, right? He knew that you most likely wondered about who he was as a person. “I hope they’re kind.”

No one said anything yet, just to give him more space to speak as he processed his thoughts.

“I think… I used to have all of these ideas for what I wanted in a person. I wanted them to look a certain way, to act a certain way…” He trailed off. “And… I think now I can’t help but think that all I want is someone I can be happy with. Someone who accepts me for me.” He scooped another bit of his ice cream up, pausing for a moment before eating it. “Someone who I can accept, too.”

“You will,” Jihoon spoke up immediately. “Accept them. I think… I think you’ll be happy with them.”

Soonyoung’s eyes crinkled in delight, “They’ve burned their taste buds for you before. I think they’ll be perfect for you.”

It earned a warm chuckle from Jun, smiling to himself again. He always found himself smiling when you were on his mind, and he hadn’t even met you yet. How was he supposed to go through his days when he did meet you? The same way the others did after meeting their soulmates, he assumed. Was it strange to wonder if you were like him? A little odd at times, but warm and caring and silly?

“He’s gone,” Wonwoo gently teased, smiling to himself. His phone lit up a second later from my love and Wonwoo, too, was gone with that bashful look on his face. Wonwoo had never been the kind of person who yelled his love from rooftops, but showed it in the way his eyes always seemed to sparkle a little more, heart fluttering smiles and rosy cheeks to define it.

“You are, too,” Jihoon chuckled. Yet it was Jihoon who quietly loved his soulmate, too, always mindful of their limits in the way they were mindful of him and his limits. Jun had seen them interact a few times, and he saw the way he’d wordlessly take his soulmate’s hand when the crowds were thicker, and didn’t let go when they were through it. Little displays of affection that he’d never comment on, just to spare Jihoon the embarrassment of being called out for it.

Jun watched Soonyoung for a moment, just to be aware of him. Soulmate talk went fine with him most of the time, but everyone knew that Soonyoung (just as Seokmin did) had his moments of insecurity with his own lack of a sign. Yet he was smiling to himself, and immediately jumped to teasing Jihoon for something that he’d said about his soulmate not long ago. It turned the latter’s cheeks bright red as he complained, waving him off. So what if he liked his soulmate? That’s what they were there for, right? They were supposed to be someone that he liked. And yet Wonwoo had chuckled, joining in on the teasing as well.

Jun just smiled to himself, savoring the sweetness of the moment and the ice cream.

For the most part, being friends with Jun meant they had special privileges. When Seungcheol asked if they could all meet up close to closing so he could share some special news (with the promise that at least he would help close up for the night), Jun had agreed easily enough. Not everyone could make it, but Jun carried out a tray of dishes to set in front of those present. Seungcheol had been talking about how different his life felt now that he could see color, no longer relying on which light was lit for traffic lights or asking people for the right color apple. He'd pulled over a chair, breaking into a pair of chopsticks so he could reach out and snag a dumpling while he took a few minutes to rest.

"Also... All of you are terrible!" Seungcheol huffed. "I told Seungkwan first and he immediately started sending me pictures of myself in ugly outfits you all swore went together!"

It earned a snort from Jeonghan, who'd been busy typing something out on his phone. "We didn't do it all the time, you know."

Seokmin was staring at his watch the entire time, and Jun reached out, fingers brushing his bicep. "Are you okay?"

"Just waiting for something," he said. Then he looked up, the realization dawning on him as he shook his head. "Sorry! Sorry, I'm fine. Just..." He looked at the door again. "Waiting."

Seungcheol changed the topic away from the outfits he was debating with Joshua (no, he did not like that neon shirt, thank you), "We're going out on Tuesday, actually. I think you guys will like them..."

Jun smiled to himself. It was nice seeing Seungcheol so at ease. The idea of never meeting his soulmate had been weighing on him for a while now, and even more-so since everyone else seemed to be finding their soulmate over the past year. Before he could join the conversation, he saw Seokmin getting up and heading toward the computer right as the door opened, a little bell jingling. Jun excused himself from the group as Seungcheol continued on about his soulmate, making his way over to the counter.

"Sorry," the customer had said, and Jun had slid the menu across to you without much thought. "My friend, Minho, came here with a couple friends and said you might be able to help?"

Jun just blinked in confusion. "I'm sorry. With...?"

"My soulmate had this dish a few days ago," you rested your hands on the counter, "and I've managed to narrow it down based on a lot of Googling. But there's a couple things I'm not sure about, but Minho said what I kept describing sounded like Chinese food, and--"

Jun waved a hand. "I understand," he said. "I have the same sign."

You sighed in relief. "Good. It's not the rarest sign, but people don't always get it since it’s still uncommon, y'know? Your soulmate must be lucky, though," you drummed your fingers against the counter. "Also... Sorry about coming in this late. I saw you're closing in an hour, and—”

Jun stopped you there. "It's okay," he insisted. "It's what I'm here for. Just tell me what--"

"Jun," Seokmin called out, looking up from the monitor. "There's a request for takeout. I'm gonna confirm it, alright?"

Jun waved him on, and turned back to you. "Sorry. The food...?"

You'd started to rattle off what you'd tasted days ago, saying something about how the craving never fully left you. Jun helped square you away, telling you to sit wherever you'd like and he'd have your food out as soon as he could. He made his way to the computer where Seokmin stood, brows knit tightly together.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, keeping his voice low. "You seem... different."

Seokmin shook his head. "The ticket's on the line," he kept his eyes glued to the screen. "Just... thought I recognized the name."

Jun shrugged it off and went to work, Mingyu having already made his way back into the kitchen to help. Soon enough, several orders have been made and plated. Mingyu walked away, making his way to greet you while Jun uncapped a sharpie with his teeth. Seokmin watched as Jun drew a little cat onto the corner of one of the lids, and then a little flower next to it.

"Someone else could pick up the order," Jun said after capping the marker again. "If you don't want to go."

"No!" Seokmin paused, waving a hand. "I mean--The money is good, and my bike is outside. I'll try to be back to help clean up." He tied the bag after throwing in a few utensils and fortune cookies, pausing before he turned away. "Jun?"

He looked up from where he was tidying things up behind the counter. "Hm?"

Seokmin went to speak, and then turned, gazing at where you sat alone. He shook his head, turning back to Jun. "Actually... Don't worry about it."

Jun was definitely going to call Seokmin in the morning if he didn't make it back before they all left. He watched as he made his way out of the restaurant, waving to the others before going out for a late night delivery, and Jun sighed. Maybe he was having an off day. He'd mention it to Minghao if nothing else, and maybe he'd check on him tonight. He turned, grabbing a rag on his way back into the kitchen so that he could start cleaning up again, only to catch himself freezing once he recognized something.

That blend of spices. The sauce on your meal. He turned, staring at you as he watched you eat in peace. You. He dropped the rag, body moving on its own as if you were a magnet drawing him in. He slowed to a stop, unsure of what to say. You looked up, confused for a moment.

"I think..." His voice came out hoarse and quiet, and he cleared his throat. "I... I was perfecting this recipe a few days ago."

You stared at him. "Huh?"

"This is—This is the improved version," he said, hands curling around the back of an empty chair. Just say it, a voice in his head said. All he needed to say were those three words, and yet they felt lodged in his throat.

"You're...?" You dropped your chopsticks with a gasp, standing up. "You?!"

Jun didn't know whether to be hurt by that or not. "Would you rather I not be—”

"I have eaten so many stupid things for you!" You said, loud enough to get the attention of Jun's friends. "And--And you kept eating stupid things for me when I couldn't get the recipe right!"

He laughed. "I know—"

"Oh my god," you said. "No wonder you were always right. I mean, sometimes it didn't really help because I didn't have the ingredients, but—but you still tried!" You'd laughed, warm and vibrant. "Oh my god—I'm sorry, I just—No wonder you knew what I was talking about."

Jun caught a glimpse of his friends all silently watching, and he waved them off. "I..." His face was burning, and he started patting himself down to find his phone. "I really don't want to talk more in front of my friends."

You glanced over to them, and then nodded. "Yeah! Yeah, sorry, I just—I really should have come with Minho that time, huh?"

"Maybe..." He'd plucked his phone from his back pocket. "I could buy you dinner? If you want—”

"I'd like that," you said, accepting his phone. You punched in your number before adding a little heart emoji by your name. "Now I can go straight to the source for my cravings."

He laughed softly again, holding his phone closer to his chest. "Whatever you want," he said. "Just say the word."

With a smile from you, Jun felt his world change entirely. "I'll hold you to that, chef."

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