#hes holding back so much anger holy shit u can see it. and hes so fucking right to be angry too
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2022 Mexican GP // post race
#hes holding back so much anger holy shit u can see it. and hes so fucking right to be angry too#hes so hot when hes mad tho#f1#formula 1#yuki tsunoda#alpha tauri#kyle.gif#f1edit#tauri.yuki#mexico22#mexican gp 2022#god he was doing really good too fucking stupid incident from danny man
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this is me trying ii (rooster x reader)
masterlist
part 1 | part 2 | part 3
pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader
synopsis: bradley bradshaw is the bane of your existence on north island - you finally got a chance to tell him off for giving you a hard time, but the guilt is weighing down on you and making it harder for you to deal with your ongoing existential crisis. maybe all it takes is a volleyball game and a heart to heart to make you see clearly... (read p1 first i'm begging you)
warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol consumption, later explicit sexual activity, lots of existential dread, volleyball shenanigans, hiking, hangman no use of y/n, one small mention of suicidal thoughts near the very end
note: seasonsbloom and gretagerwigsmuse - i love u both forever i dedicate everything to you both. also full disclaimer I don't know anything about volleyball or the sunset cliffs hiking trail lol.
wc: 9k (holy fucking shit sorry y'all I just may'd)
The first thing you feel Thursday night is relief - ever since you moved to this stupid city, the weight of holding back all your anger and annoyance with Bradley had returned in full force. After your fight with him, you feel a fifty-ton weight lift from your shoulders; you can breathe for the first time in two weeks.
“I told Bradley off,” you tell Cam and Cher casually after dinner. They both share a weird look, waiting for you to elaborate. “He’s been giving me a hard time at Java. Coming in with ridiculous orders and mocking me and tipping large amounts just to make fun of me. And he thinks he can tell me it’s just teasing between friends?! Since when were we friends?”
On Friday morning, when 6:30 rolls around with Bradley being a no-show, you feel unease settle over you. It’s minuscule - it feels like you’re carrying an obese cat on your shoulders - but it’s noticeable. And as the day goes on, you start to mull over yesterday’s debacle, wondering if you were a little too harsh.
You waste your weekend thinking about it more, replaying your words, recalling every single detail. Each time you restart the memory, your stomach sinks lower when you see Bradley’s crestfallen and shocked expression. The obese cat grows bigger, and your anxiety makes you feel smaller.
On Sunday night, you groan and collapse on the loveseat in Cam’s living room with a languid sigh. Cher’s lounging on the L-shaped couch reading on her iPad, while Cam’s puttering around in the kitchen.
“I don’t know how much more water I can tread, guys.” you groan and bury your face into a soft velvet throw pillow.
“Can I be frank with you?” Cher asks, switching her tablet off and setting it aside.
“Always,” you nod as best as you can, voice muffled by the fabric.
“You need another outlet.”
You lift your head from the velvet. “What kind of outlet can I find on this stupid island? No offense,” you add. “I thought I could get by doing nothing, but I finished all of the Stranger Kids show and a bunch of Academy Award winners that I’ve missed and I almost got sucked into something called Bridgerton-”
“You need a physical outlet,” Cher interrupts, smiling comfortingly.
You sigh again. “Years at a desk job have completely wrecked my ankles too much for me to go on long morning jogs again. Like, if I did a deep squat right now, my heels are going to lift so high I’ll tip over like a fucking cow. And I know you told me to do yoga with Cam, but I’m not sure I can bring myself to get up at 5 AM on a Saturday - I need to sleep in on the weekends.”
Cam comes in and plops themself down in their favorite armchair facing the TV. “I wasn’t going to suggest yoga again. But my friend Natasha from class asked if I knew anyone who played volleyball, and you were the first person to come to mind. They’re playing tomorrow evening.”
You gape at them. “I haven’t played in years. I think the last time I touched a volleyball was at a company team retreat a few years back, and I was just a spectator tossing it back to the cutie from the web team.”
“The cutie from GUI,” Cher dreamily breathes out, laughing as she dodges the throw pillow you launch at her face.
“Come on!” Cam implores. “You were great at intramural volleyball back in undergrad! And it’s just casual, they need someone to even out the teams so no one sits out. They’ll buy you drinks afterward - guaranteed.”
You mull over the idea in your mind. Who in their sound mind would NOT want to meet a bunch of strangers and fumble through a sport they haven’t played in years?
Although, you would love to be able to get out of the house and into the sunshine again without feeling the overwhelming anxiety of doing things on your own. A week ago, you’d bookmarked the Sunset Cliffs Natural Park over on Point Loma, west of North Island. But hiking on your own felt too intimidating, and you hadn’t gotten around to asking Cher and Cam to join.
Maybe this was another saving grace - another opportunity falling into your lap to do something new and push yourself out of your comfort zone. A chance to do something meaningful, to make friends outside of Cam and Cher so you could stop mooching off of them and draining their energy. Because as much as you knew they loved you and were happy to host you, there was still that small part of you that insisted they were counting down the days for you to leave.
Worst case? You fumble the ball and never have to see these people again. Best case? Maybe you make some friends, burn some energy, and potentially google hot people on the beach, bumping and setting the ball in slow motion like they’re on Baywatch.
Yeah, that last point is rather convincing.
“Alright,” you sigh. “If anything, I’ll spike the ball and pretend it’s Bradshaw’s face.”
Cam and Cher share another weird look.
--
At 6 PM, you pull into the parking lot for the Hard Deck and immediately spot a gaggle of tall, muscled guys setting up the sand volleyball court boundaries out on the beach. The light of the late afternoon sun glistens off their tanned skin and sends your nerves into a frenzy; you don’t know how you’ll be able to play a casual game of volleyball with the likes of these people.
“Hey! Cam’s friend, right? It’s so great to meet you!” Natasha calls out as you approach her and her SUV. She immediately goes in for a hug, which makes you feel both giddy and incredibly shy as you return it - it feels like it’s been a while since you’ve tried to make a new friend.
“Hi, Natasha, it’s so nice to meet you! Thanks for inviting me, it’s so nice to do something other than Netflix and chill with myself in the evening,” you cringe at yourself. Why the fuck did you say that to another person?
But Natasha shakes her head with a huge, understanding smile. “It’s no biggie - we’ve all just been playing pool over at the Hard Deck and Bob suggested maybe we get some sunlight for once. It’ll be great to work off some tension after work - sorry in advance if anyone’s particularly intense here,” she laughs.
“Oh, what do you all do?” you ask, eyeing one tall, dark-skinned man and how his muscles ripple as he handles a volleyball between two large palms.
“We’re Navy - all of us are pilots,” Natasha says.
Your stomach plummets. Oh fuck. If these guys are all coworkers AND in the Navy AND pilots - well, you didn’t need your stupid engineering degree to do the math. There’s a high probability that someone’s about to make his presence known-
“Yo, Phoenix!” a husky, familiar voice calls out behind you. “Yale said he wouldn’t be able to make it, so we’ll probably have to...” his voice trails off as he recognizes you.
You pause, meeting his gaze through your sunglasses. “Hi, Bradley,” you say, deciding to at least be the bigger person and not outright ignore him.
He doesn’t seem to share the same sentiment, nodding once your way before redirecting his attention back to Phoenix. “I guess we’re even on teams then. I’ll go help set things up.”
You feel a twinge of something in your chest - almost feeling hurt that he was still so upset with you. But you dismiss it as quickly as it came - you have nothing to feel bad about and apparently, neither does Bradley as he jogs away towards the group around the newly set up court. Natasha looks on with a curious expression before picking up an extra volleyball and leading you to where the rest of the group is.
Bradley doesn’t even look at you. He’s off to the side, tossing a volleyball between both his hands idly and conversing with a man in glasses.
A taller, dark-skinned man approaches the two of you with a broad smile, giving Natasha a high five and you a friendly nod. She’s still explaining the game setup to you. “We’ll have two teams of five, we might switch things around here and there and we might be dicks to each other, but I promise we’ll keep you out of the line of fire. Just look the other way if I start acting like a sore loser.”
“Natasha, I’m not sure if Cam’s mentioned, but my competitiveness in IM volleyball got me ejected from a game after I slammed the ball into another guy’s face. No worries.”
She and the other man laugh, and he reaches a hand out to shake yours. You introduce yourself to him, and he does the same. “Reuben - but call me Payback. And I’m not sure if she’s mentioned, but she goes by Phoenix.”
You’re confused. “Phoenix?”
“It’s her callsign,” he replies as if that explains everything.
“Callsign?” you repeat, looking between the two of them.
“Yeah, it’s like a unique identifier for each of us. We get it assigned to us by our class, usually when we do something stupid in boot camp,” Nat- or, Phoenix explains to you.
“Can’t I just call you all by your real name? Instead of nicknames?”
“Callsigns,” Payback corrects. “And honestly, you could. But it’ll catch us off guard. I mean, if you called out ‘Reuben’ mid-game, I’d probably book it to the ocean because my gut instinct will be telling me that my ex has finally tracked me down to get back the NSYNC CD I stole from her.”
“Poor girl,” you muse, and he laughs.
“Come on, we’ll introduce you to everyone and you’ll have everyone’s sign down in no time! We’ll only be using those so you’ll get confused if you don’t know them.”
He and Phoenix walk you over to a tall, blond Adonis. Like the others, he’s shirtless, tanned, and muscled. You wonder if he could crack walnuts with his biceps. “This is Jake, or ‘Bagman’-”
“Hangman,” the Ken doll says, rubbing the stubble along his jawline which is tightly clenched as he surveys the game being set up. He looks over at you briefly to nod once. “Nice to meet you.”
“Don’t mind him,” Phoenix tells you with an eye roll. “He’s hung up on his girl, but she’s not talking to him.”
You nod, only half paying attention now that you’ve caught sight of Bradley making his way over to your gaggle of three. You can’t read his expression thanks to the trusty Ray Bans he’s wearing, but his strut is as cocky as ever.
“Hangman has a girl?” Payback asks just as Bradley reaches earshot.
“Oh yeah, Penny’s tutor friend? Hangman spilled a mojito on her after Dogfight the other day. Poor girl looked terrified.” Bradley teases and smacks Hangman on the back. The others laugh along at a stoic-faced Hangman whose cheeks have slightly flushed.
“You pilots really seem to have a knack for tormenting innocent women,” you blurt out, narrowing your eyes at the three boys. Bradley’s eyebrows furrow right back.
“Guess we do,” he says shortly.
Phoenix shifts her eyes between the two of you before clearing her throat. “This is Bradley - I suppose you already know. We call him Rooster.”
“Rooster? That’s your callsign?” you ask, incredulously.
“Yeah! Because he looks out for his own,” Payback says in a high-pitched, almost mocking tone. He couples his words with a sharp pinch to Bradley’s cheek, and he abruptly smacks Payback’s hands away.
At long last, Hangman breaks his silence with a loud bark of laughter. “Hold on, do you two know each other?” Hangman asks, a grin replacing his scowl. “Why so tense, Bradshaw? Did she give you the slip in the wee hours of the morning?”
“Shut up,” Rooster threatens at the same time that you say, “We were at UVA together.”
You blink, feeling slightly hurt for a second before realizing he definitely wouldn’t care enough to tell his Navy buddies about his old college friend who hypothetically got dropped from her hotshot engineering job and was now in Fightertown. You try your best to swallow the lump that still appears in your throat.
A beat of silence follows. “Apparently, we’re arch nemeses,” Bradley says bitterly, and you’re pretty sure you catch him rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses.
You narrow your eyes. “Always so dramatic, huh, Bradley?”
“Me? I’m being dramatic? You’re the one who said it! This is some real pot-meet-kettle crap, Buttercup.”
“Buttercup?” Phoenix deadpans, looking at you sympathetically. You beat Bradley to answer.
“It’s a stupid joke he’s kept going for fifteen years because Bradley’s quite skilled at never letting things go!” you spit out.
“Oh, don’t we know it?” Hangman says under his breath before Bradley can retort, then swiftly catches a volleyball from someone over by the court. He crooks one finger in your direction. “We’ll have to call you Buttercup - both because it might piss off Rooster over here, and because I didn’t catch your name.”
“Jake,” Bradley says warningly, but Hangman’s jogged away before he can get another word out.
Stupid Rooster. And even stupider Hangman.
--
Volleyball starts easy enough once you’re introduced to the rest of the team. Phoenix keeps you on her team along with Fanboy, an intimidatingly handsome man who goes by Coyote, and a really sweet, round-faced man wearing glasses named Bob. Bradley sticks to the other side, trying hard not to look annoyed with Hangman ordering his teammates around.
“So you’re Bradley’s friend? Ow!” Coyote starts to ask, but Phoenix cuts him off by elbowing him in the side.
“No, she’s my friend. I met her through someone from yoga.” She gives him a hard look. “That’s right, I know people outside of you creeps.”
Coyote furrows his brow. “When do you have the time to go to yoga? And do they have any open spots? Preferably a mat right behind you, Phoe- Jesus!” Coyote rubs the back of his head where Bob’s initial practice serve had landed.
“Sorry!” he calls out, but you can see the curve of a smile on his face as he turns away from Coyote’s glare. You like Bob.
Once everyone’s in position, Bob makes the first serve - this time a perfect one that arcs the ball over the net and into Payback’s waiting hands. He bumps it over the net, and the game continues.
The sun beats down on you as you play into the evening. You try your hardest not to ogle the guys around you - or Natasha, for that matter - and it’s relatively easy once you start focusing on the game. But unexplainably, every single time Bradley leaps up to spike the ball, you feel a jolt of excitement at the sight of his abs clenching and his bicep muscles rippling in slow motion. It’s all tan skin and toned calves and bulging biceps and-
Your train of thought is interrupted by Bob calling out “Buttercup, eyes up!”
You swiftly bounce back into motion, bumping the ball over to Phoenix, who slams the ball over the net. Close one. And that’s another thing - you’ve adjusted shockingly well to your honorary callsign as every one of your teammates decides to use it, even Natasha a few times (you only feel slightly betrayed at that).
They reshuffle the groups every game and somewhere along the line, Bradley’s suddenly on your team. You resign yourself to staying as far away from him as possible and let him take the front line and you linger towards the back, and for the most part, your team works like a well-oiled machine.
You’re surprised at how well Bradley can predict your next move, always positioning himself in the perfect spot to catch your set and spike it over the net. It’s like years of verbal sparring somehow prepared you for this moment to absolutely annihilate Hangman’s team together at volleyball. After one particularly spectacular play, you lock eyes with him and marvel at how in sync the two of you are. Mindlessly, you offer him a double thumbs up.
Jesus Christ, you’re a dork, you think to yourself before Bradley enthusiastically throws up a goofy thumbs up in return.
After Coyote’s attempt to save the ball ended with him diving and skidding into the sand, the opposing team wins the game point. “Alright, I think I’m gonna call it,” he says loudly and stands up to brush the sand off his knees.
You look up and finally realize just how much time has passed. The sun’s making its way down the horizon, and the sky has transformed into a beautiful spectrum of orange and pink hues scattered across the wide expanse. The Hard Deck behind you is already lit with colorful LEDs, and the parking lot is a few cars fuller as more locals make their way in for evening drinks.
Natasha, who had already relocated to the other team earlier, raises both hands in the air. “I’m still down for a game or two! Bob?”
“You guys go ahead,” Bob says, wiping at his glasses. “I gotta rinse the sand off these, I can’t see shit.” As he makes his way back to the cars, he holds his hand out for you to slap your palm into for a quick low five. A couple of other pilots agree to make their way in for drinks, except Hangman.
“I’m game.” - “I’ll play.” you and Bradley both say at the same time, then eye each other curiously. He’s finally removed his sunglasses and you observe how his light brown eyes shine in the evening light. Somehow, his mustache has bits of sand stuck into it from his many dives to the ground.
You know you’re not much better off - you’ll be scraping sand out from your scalp for days after this.
“I’ll play with Phoenix,” Hangman proclaims, and tosses a ball over to Bradley. “Losers can serve this time.”
Everyone else rolls their eyes. “You uh... You want to start?” Bradley turns to you, idly tossing the ball in the air. “I mean, serve?”
You nod your head and he passes it to you to begin the game. Somehow, you and Bradley work even better as a team of two without the extra people to keep track of. Neither of you even has to call out your next move - both just instinctively making way for the other when Nat or Hangman sends the ball barrelling over the net. It’s easy, effortless, something you never really felt with Bradley until you opened yourself up to working together with him.
“Heads up!” Bradley calls out and passes the ball to you, setting you up for a nice spike that wins you the game. “Nice one, Buttercup!”
After celebrating your victory with Rooster with an awkward high five that you can still feel vibrating in your right hand, you make your way back up to the Hard Deck. Natasha is toweling off sand near her car and she holds out a water bottle as you approach, which you accept gratefully.
“Thanks for coming. I know it was late notice, but the guys really liked you,” she grins as you chug half of the water in record time.
“I had a great time!” you tell her and screw the cap back on. “I really can’t express enough how much I appreciate the invite and getting to know you all. You all are so welcoming - i-it just means a lot to me, being new here and all.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then looks at you with what you can best describe as a guilty expression. “I’ve gotta be honest because I feel bad about hiding things. Cam and I may have conspired to bring you here to make nice with Bradley.”
Your heart sinks. “What?” you ask numbly,
She slams the trunk of her SUV shut before responding. “Hear me out - Cam’s a really good friend. I met them back when I was at TOP GUN for the first time. And now we’ve been catching up over yoga and they told me about your whole thing with Rooster - I mean, Bradley - from your college days. And I thought it was funny, honestly, it doesn’t come as a surprise to me that he was a little shit back then.
“But I know something happened between the two of you last week,” she says, and you stiffen. “Because Bradley’s going through some rough shit with this mission, but he was worse than usual last Thursday. And I wasn’t sure what could’ve caused it - I thought it was the same shit with our instructor or something. But then he got super wasted back at base and was just moping around about some Buttercup or whatever and I put together the bits and pieces. Long story short, this mission is so fucking crucial. It’s life or death, and we need the best of the best to be on their A-game, and that especially includes Rooster.
“Plus, Cam thinks you should let bygones be bygones for the sake of your journey - which I don’t know many details about and I’m not going to pry, but I trust them. So yeah, I suggested volleyball to the team, and conveniently, Yale wasn’t able to make it so I offered to have you sub in, and here we are now,” she finishes quickly, still looking nervous.
You breathe in heavily, leaning against her car and mulling over her words. “I don’t... I’m not sure what I can do with him.”
“For what it’s worth, you two seemed to make a really good team near the end there. Maybe you can go smooth things over with him now,” she gestures to where Bradley is currently sitting on one of the wooden beach chairs in the sand.
You settle an unimpressed look on her and she hastily corrects herself. “Like - not that you’ve done anything wrong to smooth things over. Just... Look, I think he just feels really bad about it - as he should! - but he’s definitely too embarrassed to approach you, let alone apologize out of the blue for how things went down. And maybe if you just go over there, he’ll feel comfortable enough to tell you what he said to me Friday night.”
“What did he say Friday night?” you quirk an eyebrow.
She sighs. “I’d love to tell you, girl, but it’s not my place. Just talk to him?”
You nod, crossing your arms. “I’m not entirely thrilled that you and Cam tried to be all sneaky,” Natasha has the decency to look a little ashamed. “But I understand why. And I mean... At this point, I’m tired of being in this weird limbo with him.”
She nods in understanding. “No matter what happens, it’ll be okay. I owe you a mint g&t afterward!”
“Sounds great. Wait, how do you know I drink-” you start, but Phoenix is already walking towards the Hard Deck with a sly grin on her face.
“Good luck, Buttercup!” she calls out before disappearing around the corner of the building.
You sigh again and shoot a glance over to where Bradley’s still sitting, still staring at the sky changing colors over the horizon. It’s now or never, you think, then silently berate yourself for thinking something so cliche. Taking another deep breath, you make your way across the beach to the unoccupied chair under the umbrella.
“Hey,” you come up behind him, wavering to see if he’s going to dismiss you or let him join him.
He looks up, and you try to ignore the weird feeling in your stomach when his warm, chocolate eyes meet your nervous gaze. Why isn’t he being a regular douche and wearing his sunglasses? “Hi, Buttercup.”
You shuffle your feet around slightly, shifting your eyes around to avoid that weird feeling again. Maybe you’re just hungry. “Mind if I join you?”
He extends a hand out to gesture toward the empty chair to his right. “By all means.”
You mumble a quick “thanks” and plop down in the seat next to him. A few minutes of silence pass between the two of you - to pass the time, you look up at the multi-colored umbrella above you and count how many different colored stripes there are.
You’re at four reds when Bradley breaks the silence. “‘Bane of your existence', huh?” he says with a crooked smile. “What is this, Bridgerton?”
You raise an eyebrow. “Sorry?”
“Bridgerton on Netflix? Season 2? Anthony and Kate?”
You look over at him with an incredulous look. “You’ve seen that entire show?” you deadpan.
He stretches his legs out, brushing some sand from his knees absentmindedly. “I mean... Yeah. Love me some Shonda. No Grey’s for me though - couldn’t get past season 2.”
You snort, looking over at him. “I don’t think I’ve managed to finish a show at all in the last five years. My job was always... Well, either way, I just finished Stranger Things on Saturday. Bridgerton might be next.”
“It’s pretty good.” He bounces his head in a nod, looking back out at the horizon. Another few beats of silence pass, and you struggle to find the exact words you want to say. But it seems like Natasha was right about him after all because Bradley beats you to the punch before you can open your mouth. “Listen, I just... I feel terrible about what happened in college. And I know I was all petty and mean earlier today and I don’t want to just make excuses for my actions. Shit, I want to keep myself accountable but I never could have imagined I was making you feel that way in college. And especially here, you know?”
You chew your lower lip and tightly grip the armrests of the chair nervously. “I just... I shouldn’t have blown up at you on Thursday-”
He’s shaking his head. “No, no, I totally deserved that-”
“I just got so angry-”
“As you should be-”
“And things have just been so hard lately-”
“I’m really sorry about that, I had no business trying to pry-”
“Jesus Christ, let me finish, Bradley!” you interrupt loudly. He shrinks back and you rub your temples warily.
“That’s what she said,” he mumbles and you look at him incredulously.
A burst of laughter falls from your lips. “Are you twelve?” you ask through a giggle and he breaks out into a wide smile.
“I’m sorry. I’ll let you speak. My lips are sealed,” he mimes sealing them with an imaginary key and then throwing it behind him. Your eyes linger over the small crinkles by his eyes as he’s smiling, and you quickly snap them back to the sand in front of you, choosing your next words carefully.
“I guess... Well, first things first you should know that I quit my job.”
Bradley looks shocked. "What?! At Java-"
"No, not Java Roasters. I mean my job in Raleigh," you huff out and lean all the way back so that your head rests against the wood. His eyes are trained on you, unblinking.
“Why?” he asks.
"I quit... because I hated it. I hated the daily minutia of logging onto a computer and attending stupid morning meetings and reporting my stupid project progress and pretending my work is meaningful- I just... I couldn't do it anymore.”
Bradley’s gaze is still focused solely on you. It feels less intense now, less nerve-wracking than it’s ever felt before. Like there’s no judgment or threat of mocking, just Bradley listening like you’re telling him the most riveting tale and not the story of how everything is falling apart. He hums, encouraging you to continue.
“I remember the moment I made the decision so clearly. Like on my way back from work, driving down I-40 and I couldn’t imagine living the rest of my life that way like a... Like a blur. I don’t even recall the last time I picked up a book for fun or got into a tv show or followed one of my passions.”
You pause to take a breath, feeling the returning lump in your throat become increasingly hard to swallow as you realize just how vulnerable you’re becoming. “So I quit. Called up all my friends and Camila was the only one to offer me something that wasn’t another job in the field that literally burned me out. So I’m here now. Just a failure, but at least I didn’t get fired,” you joke, turning away to wipe the one tear that’s fallen down your right cheek.
“Hey, it’s fine, it’s okay,” you hear Bradley say and suddenly his hand is there - open-faced on your left armrest, not touching you in the slightest. An invitation. A peace offering. A symbol of support. You hesitate for a moment before grasping his hand with your left, squeezing lightly. He continues, “Nothing about this tells me you’re a failure. I never even thought that word was in your vocabulary.”
“You know, you learn something new every day,” you reply through a soggy giggle. He chuckles and squeezes his hand twice. “I don’t know. Back in undergrad, I thought this was what I wanted. Working for a big-shot company with cutting-edge tech. Then I just got pigeonholed into doing the same thing over and over again, and the work was rarely that stimulating.
“Anyways,” you continue. “I guess I just wanted to explain myself and why I’m here now. And Cam says I’ve been holding onto the past for too long, so I guess that’s why everything just all came out last Thursday. I’m sorry - you didn’t deserve me yelling at you like that.”
Bradley’s been attentive, nodding throughout your spiel and holding onto your hand tightly. When you gesture for him to say his piece, he clears his throat and removes his hand from your grasp. You ignore how cold your fingers feel now and shove them under your thigh.
“I never knew there was a different side to our... relationship. I always figured it was friendly competition like we were just pushing each other. And honestly, I think it got me through some of my gen eds because I studied so hard into the night trying to impress you-”
“Impress me?” you ask, partly from shock. “Why?”
He shrugs. “I dunno. You were smart and so sincere about school and it was always so inspiring, I wanted to do the same. Maybe you’d think I was... cool. I guess” You let his words sit in the air, looking back on every single interaction with him from undergrad that you can remember.
Because you can’t remember him being malicious, or him being cruel or mean. If you took off your Petty Goggles™, you can see that maybe he never meant to talk to you in a mocking, demeaning way. Maybe.
“I’m sorry,” Bradley goes on. “I never meant to give you a hard time in college. I wish I saw how my teasing affected you earlier and I wish I was observant enough to realize you never played along, you always just sort of... took it. That’s not fair to you at all. And I wish I hadn't been so obnoxious and fallen back into old habits this past week. I’m just really sorry. And moving forward I’d like to be more self-aware.”
You nod, cracking a half smile. “You were pretty fucking obnoxious. Caramel in matcha sounds terrible.”
“It’s incredible,” he defends. “And just for the record, I finished every single drink you made for me. You’re doing amazing as a barista so far, sweetheart.”
The two of you laugh, and you feel so much lighter. At this moment, you think that maybe you and Bradley could be friendly - at least, you definitely could leave the past in the past and get a fresh start just like you were hoping to do when you came to North Island. Let go of this stuff with Bradley and get to know him for who he is.
“Listen... If you’re willing, I-I’d like to have a fresh start?” he says, and he stumbles over the words clumsily, like he’s rehearsed them like he’s hoping you won’t turn him down.
You smile. “Yeah. I think I’d like that, Bradley.”
Bradley beams at you - oh fuck, there’s that weird nauseating feeling in your gut - and you hesitantly smile right back. “Let’s head back inside. I’ll get you a drink,” he starts to stand.
You narrow your eyes playfully. “Thought you wanted me to cover the next drink? You know, with my big STEMinist paycheck?”
He closes his eyes, breathes in deeply, and turns his head up to the sky before exhaling with a pained smile. “I’m quite a jackass, aren’t I?”
You roll your eyes and laugh before turning around and making your way through the cool sand. Your heart feels full - ten sizes bigger. “You seem like a good guy now, Bradshaw.”
--
“Listen, Buttercup,” Bradley said at post-volleyball drinks, right as he was getting up to leave for the night. “I know you’re an organized girl and you like to keep things up to date - which is why I must inform you that whatever number you have under my name in your phone is most definitely out of date.”
“I’d honestly be impressed if you still had the same number fifteen years later,” you laughed.
“Yeah, yeah, well if you want to reach out to me for any reason, here you go,” he slides over a bar napkin with hastily scribbled digits on it. “Just - save me under my real name? Not like ‘Satan’s Spawn’ or ‘My Worst Nightmare’.”
“Both are accurate,” you say, pulling out your phone. “I believe I had you under ‘El Diablo’ back then.”
“The devil- Oh REAL clever.”
Over the next few days, you find yourself texting Bradley more often than you ever thought you would - which to be fair is a low bar, seeing as you never thought you’d even reply to one of his texts. It’s sporadic since you know he’s busy preparing for a mission of some sort on base (he and Natasha didn’t elaborate much more on it during drinks) but he makes an effort to keep the conversation going throughout the day and into the late hours of the night when his replies are longer and more frequent.
He invites you out to the Hard Deck on Wednesday evening, and you stay to talk late into the night until last call, talking about what you both have done since graduating and gossiping about old college friends. You’re both careful not to discuss what happened during college, your plans, or Bradley’s upcoming dangerous mission - for now, it’s just casual comfortable conversation. You’re becoming friends.
Somehow, you finally feel at peace with being right where you are - just working at the coffee shop and being friends with Bradley and doing things other than catching up on tv shows. You shoot out emails to your old favorite professors and former colleagues, asking for guidance on what you can do next in your career, and for the first time, you feel hopeful about your future.
You’ve advanced from treading water to doing a nice, comfortable backstroke. And it feels like it’ll be clear skies for some time.
Saturday evening at around 5 PM, after you’ve listened to a motivational podcast and finished chores and your weekly laundry, your phone lights up with a call from Lieutenant Gallo.
“Buttercup!” he sings out as soon as you answer. “What are you doing right now?”
“Um,” you eye your empty kitchen sink, the spotless floors, and the crumb-free kitchen countertops. “Nothing. Just finished my laundry and some other chores.”
“Oh perfect! I’m pulling up at your house in two minutes.”
“I- what? Who gave you my address?”
“Nat, who got it from Cam. You can yell at them later! Just change into something comfortable and wear tennis shoes.” He hangs up.
Ten minutes later, you’re seated in the front seat of Bradley’s Ford Bronco. As soon as you slid into the vehicle, he shoved a paper bag towards you and an iced coffee from Starbucks (“Sorry for the betrayal, sweetheart, if only Java wasn’t closed on the weekends”).
“Pulling out all the stops, huh?” you asked, breaking off a piece of a blueberry scone and popping it into your mouth.
“Well, you’ll need your energy,” he says vaguely and smiles at you through the side of his sunglasses.
While you finish off your drink, you survey your enemy-turned-friend in the driver’s seat. Bradley’s right elbow is propped up on the middle console, his left hand extended to grip the steering wheel at the twelve o’clock position. The black, sleeveless athletic top is painfully well-fitted and accentuates his stupid muscles. Your eyes catch the way his bicep tenses when he maneuvers a left turn, the way the cords in his forearm clench when he takes a sip of his caramel matcha monstrosity. There’s some old song from the ‘80s playing at low volume on the radio, and your gaze travels to how his long fingers tap out the beat on the console.
He’s so fucking pretty. And suddenly you’re going through your mental Rolodex of conversation starters, going through all the possible cool things you could say because holy fuck do you want to try and impress him right now. Or make him smile or laugh or maybe reach over and grab your hand again like he did on the beach
“Sorry, my A/C’s busted,” he interrupts your train of thought. He’d rolled the windows down earlier for which you were grateful - despite it being late afternoon, it was still incredibly hot.
“Eh, it’s better for the environment to roll the windows down,” you reply. “I mean - to a certain extent. Like I heard at higher speeds it’s not super fuel efficient because it causes more drag for the car and- well, I’m sure you know about that, being a pilot and all. Never-”
“No no, keep going,” he says and you swear his mustache quirks up with his smile. “It’s not like I’m rolling down the windows in a F/A-18. I like hearing you STEMsplain it, Buttercup.”
“Shut up,” you feel the heat rushing to your cheeks that must have something to do with the sun. You can’t be this nervous around a guy who almost fainted during his first keg stand. “So can you at least tell me where we are?”
He heaves out a dramatic sigh. “Well, right now, we’re in San Diego-”
“Bradley, I swear I’ll jump out of this car-” you threaten through a laugh.
“We’ll be there in two minutes, Buttercup, jeez! We’re near Point Loma, though, and that’s all I’ll tell you.”
Three minutes later, Bradley drives past a sign reading Sunset Cliffs Natural Park - and your heartbeat quickens.
You didn’t even think he heard you offhandedly mentioning your plan to check out the short trail up near here but not wanting to go alone. Your long-winded spiel had been interrupted on Monday by Jake loudly calling you two over to watch his winning 9-ball move (he’d missed the pocket entirely, but that’s beside the point).
Bradley pulling out all the stops today just makes it difficult to hate him, impossible to be annoyed with how he was before because you can tell he’s trying so hard to make it up to you and be a better friend. You resolve to do the same for him some time - maybe you’ll attempt to craft the matcha monstrosity after all.
“I got water and sunscreen in the back - it’s just like an hour to hike but I know you said you wanted to try something new here, so...” he seems a little nervous now, not meeting your eyes and busying himself with what’s in the back trunk.
“Thanks, Bradley,” you tell him, and the smile he sends your way finally makes you understand just what Andrew Garfield was waxing poetic about with the shot of espresso nonsense.
The two of you don’t chat much - mainly because the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean drown out anything that isn’t a loud shout, but the silence is comfortable between the two. He lets you lead the way, following behind you and pointing out rocks that might trip you up.
After reaching the turnaround point of the trail, you both settle on a large, flat rock to watch the water over the horizon, the waves forming from far out and crashing onto the side of the cliffs. It’s far too early to see any sunset views, but the sun is still warming your faces and the wind is breezy enough to cool you down without blowing sand into your eyes. It’s quieter here, and you settle into talking about anything and everything, just as you always have this past week.
After an extended beat of silence, you muster up the courage to broach a subject that’s been plaguing your mind. "So what's up with you and your mission instructor?” you hesitantly ask. “Phoenix told me you guys have some beef. Like, really slow-roasted beef. Worse than your shit with pretty boy-"
"Oh my god," Bradley scrubs a hand over his face. "Please don't call Hangman a pretty boy. At the very least, not to his face. He'll never let me hear the end of it."
You giggle and shove his shoulder playfully in response. You don’t push the topic again, instead waiting for him to either accept the ball in his court or just lob a different conversation topic back at you.
"He pulled my papers to the naval academy," Bradley says quietly. "Set me back four years."
“Oh...” you trail off, not sure what to say. “Why would he do that?”
Bradley inhales deeply and shrugs his broad shoulders. “I always knew him as Uncle Pete - or Maverick. He flew with my dad - Goose - and they were really close friends. My mom joked about feeling like a third wheel at times and honestly, I can understand how from what I remember,” he huffs out a laugh, and you smile slightly.
“I was four when my dad died. It was during some training exercise, their plane got caught in a jet stream and they had to eject. Maverick got out fine, my dad-” he cuts off, turning his head away to look at the ocean again.
Feeling the deja vu hit, you hold your hand out, palm facing up. “You don’t have to go into the details,” you say as softly as you can above the sound of the wind and the waves.
When he looks over, the pain in his eyes makes a pit form in your stomach, which is only slightly alleviated by him slipping his large, warm hand into your outstretched one. “No, no, it’s just... It’s been a while since I talked about it. And I’ve just been so angry in class and during training these past few weeks. I don’t know why he’d want to hold me back from making my dad proud. But I just can’t let go of it.”
You squeeze his hand once, letting his words sink in, giving him time to empty all his thoughts. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about listening and supporting people, it’s that you don’t always have to have a response. It’s just about being there.
“I think he just... He didn’t think I could do it,” he goes on. “Or be as good as my dad. And neither he nor my mom wanted me to go into the Navy, but I wanted to for my dad. For Goose.”
A minute passes of silence. He squeezes your hand once, and you take it as a sign to reply. “For what it’s worth, I think he’d be really damn proud of you.”
He shakes his head with a sad smile. “I don’t know. Sometimes I watch how Mav flies and think about how different we are. He’s fast, spontaneous, and reckless to a point. And my dad loved flying with him. I’m cautious - Jake’s already given me a hard time for being too slow. I don’t... I think my dad would’ve wanted me to stop holding back.”
You nod, focusing on the way his hand feels in yours, the way his thumb has started absentmindedly rubbing circles over your knuckle. “I mean...” you start. “I don’t think your dad would be disappointed with the way you fly, Bradley. You’re the best of the best, like, Natasha told me how you’re all in the top 1% and you were all called back for this crazy mission and that’s such a big accomplishment in and of itself. But...” you trail off.
He squeezes twice for you to continue. “But I think he wouldn’t want to see you holding this grudge against Maverick. And I know I’m the last person who should be telling you to let go of the past... But honestly, ever since our fresh start, I’ve felt so relieved, and hopeful, you know? And it’s absolutely not the same thing, I know. Mav betrayed you, and I mean, I was just mad you were better than me-”
He scoffs. “It was more than that, Buttercup. Don’t downplay your struggles-”
You wave your free hand. “Regardless! I just mean to say... If this mission really is life or death like you said, then maybe the two of you need to talk it out. Have a fresh start. Just like we did - minus the hand holding, though,” you joke, holding up your joined hands slightly.
He smiles softly, squeezing once, sending your heart into a frenzy. “Thanks. I really appreciate your input and I’ll think about it, Buttercup. Really. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad we’re on a fresh start.”
The comfortable silence returns, and you turn your gaze back to the ocean, which isn’t as pretty as you remember it being. Even with the sun getting lower, casting rays that reflect brilliantly off the surface of the water, the sight still isn’t as breathtaking as the man next to you.
“Sorry I’m still calling you Buttercup, by the way,” he breaks the silence. “I’ll stop - I mean it’ll take a while to switch over, but...”
You shrug. “I’m getting used to it, honestly. If you called me by my real name, I might have a stroke.”
“Wouldn’t want that to happen,” Bradley laughs, eyes crinkling ever so sweetly, and just then you realize that the nauseous feeling plaguing you this whole week is butterflies. In your stomach. Just like the Miley Cyrus song.
Sweet niblets.
--
Tuesday finds you in the middle of another rom-com binge night - you’re on your third glass of ranch water (courtesy of some girl Brittany from Instagram) and your second throwback film of the night (Mean Girls) just for the comfort it provides. You hadn’t heard from Bradley yet - apparently, something happened during yesterday’s training and some Naval officer had passed away.
It’s been rough for him with the mission coming up next week - you’re happy to give him some space.
Your phone starts buzzing between your ass and the couch, and you pull it out to see another call from Lieutenant Gallo. “Hey, Lieutenant,” you smile slightly, swirling the contents of your drink in the glass idly. “How are you feeling? How was the funeral?”
Bradley’s driving - you can hear the hum of the vehicle over the phone and the Bronco’s turn signal. “It was fine,” he says, finally, sounding distant - and not just because he’s put you on speaker.
“You okay?” You fold your legs underneath you and pause the TV, devoting your undivided attention to him. “You can talk to me.”
He’s still silent. Then, he says your name - your real name. Your stomach drops immediately like you just hit some turbulence, and you set your drink down on a coaster and wait for him to continue. “I don’t know. It just reminded me of how terrible this job can be. Losing someone like that. I mean, no one knew just how sick Admiral Kazansky was, but…. Fuck. It’s brutal here. And Phoenix and Bob both had to punch out,” you gasp softly, “...they stayed for overnight observation and they’re fine now, but it’s terrifying.”
You nod, even though he can’t see you. “I’m glad they’re okay. I know that must be terrifying, Bradley,” you say. “Are you... Are you just more worried about the mission now?”
A heavy sigh. “Yeah. Something like that.” Another turn signal click - your heartbeat is somehow outpacing it. “Listen…” he says your real name again. Your smartwatch is going to think you’re going into cardiac arrest. “I know… I appreciate our becoming friends now. You’ve gotta know that. I just need to warn you about this mission… it’s gonna be fucking brutal. And you know, after we get back - if we get back, sorry to put it that way - it just never ends… it’s onto the next thing. I might get shipped out to Manama or somewhere, I’m not sure. And I just wanted to warn you, because I don’t know how long you’re going to be stuck here for-“
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You say after a sharp intake of breath. His words strike deep into your heart, unearthing feelings of hopelessness you thought you were just starting to bury.
“I mean… look, I just know I’m headed out after this mission if I get back. And until you figure things out you’re staying here, right? I mean you said it yourself, you’re not sure what your next step is going to be.”
You nod again, thinking back to your breathing exercises, thinking back to your hike with Bradley, thinking back to the smell of sunscreen on his skin, the sound of the waves, the weight of his hand in yours. Your efforts are for naught though, as tears still find a way to roll down your cheeks in fat droplets - like the rain on the day you decided to just quit once and for all. The biggest fucking mistake of your life, maybe. “Yeah, I guess,” you croak out.
Bradley’s silent on the line for a second. “I just wanted to… fuck, I don’t know. I just wanted to be straightforward with you. Because I really appreciate your friendship. I wish we could’ve managed the niceties fifteen years ago,” he chuckles dryly. You feel something shift inside you at his phrasing - you’re annoyed at his leisurely tone. He knows exactly why things were the way they were in undergrad. “I just don’t want to keep you waiting here for me.”
That’s the final nail in the coffin. The cruel, painful reminder that your path ahead is terribly foggy, completely uncertain. To hear Bradley speak about it so matter-of-factly, as if he too is expecting nothing more from you but to stay in this guest house for the rest of eternity. It’s honestly starting to sound like a good idea.
You eye your open laptop where you had pulled up info about Stanford University’s Masters and Ph.D. programs in Computer Science. A dozen tabs are open - programs for schools all across the world, YouTube videos of people outlining how they got into research and University teaching, and a very reassuring post on Reddit titled “How old is too old to attend grad school?”
Your heart sinks at the prospect of trying and failing again. At the realization that Bradley called just to informally shift things over to an awkward long-distance acquaintanceship. At the heartbreaking, anxious thought that maybe Bradley can sense you’re just not cut out to take yet another giant step in your career. That you’ll be here for a while. So you close your laptop with your free hand and squeeze your eyes shut.
“Right,” you say, keeping your voice as even as possible and wiping your wet cheeks with your shirt. “I get it. I just- yeah. Yeah, I don’t know how long I’ll be here. You’re right.”
Bradley sucks in air through his teeth. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. I didn’t mean-“
“No, no! It’s fine!” You cut him off. “You’re right. As always, you’re right. I um… Fuck. I gotta go, I think.”
“Buttercup-“ he tries, but somehow it fuels a fire you didn’t even know was spreading through your body. All of your anxieties and fears of failure take a backseat to the burning anger in your chest and throat. You find yourself indescribably incensed with him - who the fuck does he think he is? Trying to warn you about staying in this city for too long? Pretending to be concerned about your future?
“Don’t fucking call me that!” You say sharply. “I’m not your buttercup, or your sweetheart, or whatever else you come up with. You know my fucking name, and apparently, you know my plans too! You just have me all figured out, don’t you, Bradshaw? Lieutenant Bradshaw, top 1% of all naval pilots - you know what? Good for you, Bradley. I’m glad you have it all figured out and you’re going off on some awesome adventure right after this with your awesome and talented flight buddies.” Oh god, you’re dangerously close to repeating Janis Ian’s angry monologue from Mean Girls.
“They’re not adventures, hon-“
“You can fuck off, Bradshaw. I’ll try my best not to wither away here in Fightertown with no fucking opportunities for me whatsoever, working that fucking barista job trying to make sense of all the fucking ways you can make a macchiato because that’s all I can fucking manage! And you know what - for as long as I’ve hated this job, from just the three weeks I’ve been here that is truly only a modicum of my whole life, I’ve been trying to convince myself that there’s nothing wrong with treading water and waiting for your next move. But if you’re so worried I’m gonna waste my life waiting for you then I’ll make it easy for you, Bradshaw: I’m not waiting for anyone but my damn self. I’m gonna give myself time and patience because I fucking deserve that after practically killing myself trying to get a degree I might never use again. So thanks for your concern jackass - but you can shove it. I see even after fifteen years you haven’t lost your penchant for making me feel small!”
“Wait, what-“ you jab your finger at the end call button, effectively cutting Bradley Bradshaw out of your life once again.
~happy ending for these bbs coming in part 3 ~
#rooster x reader#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#topgun maverick#top gun maverick fanfiction#mine#tw suicide mention
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th- THANKS FOR THE FOLLOW OMG?!1!1?1!?#?$3!3?3!3(3(4?_1(1!3?49(
HOLY SHIT IM SO FUCKING STARSTRUCK
oh!!!!! and!!! do you have any tips on writing smut that involves a hard shell character (whos rly mean on the outside but he would die for u in reality)
aaking because you're so fuuuucking good at it
i plan to binge your masterlists today to study more about smut writing too! (for my upcoming genshin fic that is)
hehe, thank you so much for the follow! im so damn awestruck right now and it was such a treat waking up to your notif!
Ok so this is half mini analysis, and part me just gushing.
Toji is my favorite when it comes to hardass who is soft for his s/o. He’s cold, brash, upfront, defensive, and calculating. It’s easier when I can answer to why they are like that. Which is where we get into character back story.
Toji neglected and beaten by his by his parents wouldn’t have an easy attachment style. Cold, standoffish and crude due to barely being shown a scrap of love had made him a rather heartless man. In reality he would be a walking red flag to stay away from.
It’s the calculating part that majorly comes into play with him being a softie. Chances are when he starts fooling around with someone it’s for two things sex and money. He is aware that being charming, using his good looks and sweet talking is going to help him get his way.
Would likely brush off/ignore most advances towards a romantic relationship, a sexual one would be easier to get with him. Which might lead to a romantic one, if he starts staying afterward because it’s a free place to crash and morning sex
He would crave while also reject softer intimacy. Such as hand holding, cuddling, forehead kisses, hugging you close. It starts off with pulling you in his lap, putting a sexual tone to it makes it feel less vulnerable.
Since I doubt he was valued, or validated emotionally so when he finally gets that from someone who sees toji for toji, flaws and all, he is a bit of a sucker for it. When he drinks a little too much, he opens up about his childhood, and hearing you validate how shitty it was and how he should have been treated better makes his heart beat faster. Has him softening up for the reader.
It helps to think about Toji at all given stages of the relationship within any given fic. From when they met to him falling in love, it would be a process that would take years before the finally said it.
But he would show it in his actions, for being a smooth talker he fumbles when it comes to vulnerable emotions. And with the reader he would be nothing but vulnerable when he is falling for them.
So while he might still sound rough, his sweet actions let you know more about his true intention. But at the same time Toji can't be too mean, otherwise that jumps into abusive territory.
As a calculating man he is very aware of his words and their affect. And once he cares for you, he doesn't want to hurt you. Unless it for kinky fun times. So this is where I head canon him changing small part of himself, this is where the softening begins.
I try to think about it from Toji’s perspective. Abused, neglected, beaten and hated on by most of the people around him. The thrived outta spite and became hard because of it.
Now there is this beauty of a person who is gentle with him, seeing his flaws but accepts him anyway, loves him anyway. Gives him all the patience and understanding he needs, at first its off putting. He isn't used to it, but he kind of likes it.
He would put some space but find himself thinking about the size difference of your hand. The warmth of your smile, the sweet way you say his name, the sparkle in your eyes that reserved for him.
He wants to hold you close, check in on your safety. So he comes back, you don't have questions for where he is been and there is no anger for his absent. Just concern on if he is taking care of himself.
Never having someone give a fuck if he eats, breaths or sleeps would be the norm. So you worrying for his well being is welcomed and addictive so he wants more. It has him coming back for more.
When in a relationship he is loyal, he’s smart and knows that eventually you'll catch him cheating. Every cheater gets caught at some point, so once he has chosen you. You’re his everything
Romantizing the reader through their eyes. Of course they are gonna soften up for you, you’re their everything, the one person who they feel comfortable with, who holds they heart. Toji love sick when it comes to his love, so attached to his partner he is willing to kill for them
They know you like a book and you can read him just as well. He knows he doesn't have to be the most love dovey always. That you understand he is rough around the edges, but love them anyway
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stan and mitch from road 96 my little meow meows
#bo talks#random#road 96#I LOVE ALL THE CHARACTER SSMMMM#they are all so human and every interact feels like youre truely interacting with a real person#all the charas are so...... So...... emotional and they have so much depth and character to them#everytime jarod talks abt his daughter u can rlly feel the anger and grief and hate he holds especially towards sonya and while sometimes#its supposed to be like comedic or kinda funny you cant help but feel bad because holy shit. she was SIXTEEN can you imagine that being#YOUR daughter. she was so young n she had such a full life ahead of her#john also makes me emotional the way he talks about conny it feels so genuine and real#hes still so in love with her and he will Never forget her for the rest of his days but hes trying to move forward. he loves fanny and he#sees alex as his son. hes LIVING a good life with a family who loves him and he equally loves (if not loves more) back#ALL THE CHARACTERS MAKE ME CRY i love this game wholeheartedly#and the different characters u play as.... the silhouettes and the hairstyles and the noses and its just so. you can Tell how much#love and care and detail was put into this game#also stan and mitch are just silly. i love them#jarod (road 96)#john (road 96)#stan and mitch
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Hey bestie can u make a eren x reader one shot where eren just won’t let the reader move on🙃
thank u anon for this lovely idea
scumbag!eren x crybaby!fem!reader
WARNINGS: dubcon/noncon, past toxic relationship, slut-shaming, possessive behavior, yandere tendencies,
WC: 1.8k
He pins your wrists against the dingy bathroom tiles with an unrelenting grip, and you swear you've never felt more claustrophobic in your life.
The dark-haired boy eyes the glitter on your cheekbones, the neon-colored eyeliner, the rogue on your lips, and the black satin of your mini dress exposing a substantial amount of plush thighs. He's never seen you like this-never allowed you like this before.
You almost feel like uncharted territory but nothing escapes his observant nature. From the tremble of your lips, and the water starting to collect in your lower lash lines, Eren knows this you. Maybe not who you were pretending to be in the strappy heels, low neckline, and the party-girl masquerade you put on in front of your shallow ditzy friends, but he knows who you really are. Vulnerable. Scared of your own shadow.
"E-eren,' You stammer, "Please let me go." You try not to think about the voice cracks, trying to sound as assertive as you could without meeting his eyes. Eren, of course, thinks you look like a baby mouse. Hopeless and trapped.
"Don’t you miss me?" He mummers into the nape of your neck. You have an explosive No prepared in the roof of your mouth, ready to sound out the single syllable, until his hand, adorned with chunky silver rings, covers your mouth, muffling your whimpers. You could taste the metal.
“It’s a rhetorical question.” He’s smirking, green eyes lit up dangerously under the too-white bright lights, “Let me talk okay? I just want you to listen.”
All you’ve ever been doing is letting him walk and talk over you. And then when you finally got the nerve to stand up for yourself-
“I haven’t seen you the past three months” his low voice interrupts your contemplation, “It’s like you’ve been ignoring me.” He finishes flatly, his thin lips stretched into a line. His multitude of ear piercings catches the light, glinting sharply.
It’s too overpowering, his close proximity after going cold turkey. His presence is like a drag of a cigarette after not smoking for months. Hurts your lungs but the remnants of what you used to feel with the sudden rush of nicotine bubbling up again. Because when all is said and done, you’re still deliriously attracted to him. And you hate yourself for it.
You try to focus on the other sensations, sensations that aren’t busy on the feel of his warm breath or his hands holding yours down. You can still hear the song playing from the club.
All my bitches feel like I dodged the county
Fucking with you feel like jail n——-
Yeah, it really did.
Changing tactics, he holds you by your neck instead, giving your aching wrists sweet relief but that relief is nothing compared to the panic of having his beefy hand on your thrumming pulse.
His grasp wasn’t tight. You could breathe, but it was the kind of tight that let you know he would go tighter if you didn’t listen properly. React properly.
“You’re fucking ignoring me again” he’s practically growling the words out, baring all teeth, “I know I’m pretty difficult to tune out, so I would like to know what the fuck you’re thinking about.”
His hand leaves your delicate throat- his knee between your thighs keeps you in place- to roam down the satin of your dress, the fabric clinging to every curve. You hate how scrutinizing his viridian eyes are, feeling a wave of insecurity wash over the previous hot-girl-summer confidence.
He hated how good you looked on the dance floor, laughing with your stupid friends like you had lost all your inhibitions. Hated that you looked so good, everyone could see it. Hated how you didn't notice his eyes boring holes into you. Do you remember the time how you used to be hyper-focused around him? Aware of every movement, aware of every tonal shift?
And now you didn't even look at him.
"Are you thinking of other guys? I saw you grinding on those men like a slut." He presses his body deeper, "Have you fucked any other guys since we broke up? You must have. I know how slutty your pussy is"
You bite down on his hand. Hard.
You're counting on his reflexes, for him to retract his hand and give you an opportunity to run to the door. But Eren has been fighting for years and predicts your maneuver. With a calculated sidestep, Eren lets go of his hand, before promptly slamming you against the bathroom wall again but this time front-first.
Clouds dance in your vision, and you're sure you would have fallen by now if not for him holding you up. Eren uses this newfound position to his advantage by groping your ass, rutting his dick against your backside.
Deciding to be petty, you let the spite-coated venom escape your pretty lips, "Yeah. I fucked so many boys, and they were so much better than y-"
Anger blinded him. Roughly, he turned you around to face him once more, forcing you to look up at the green-eyed monster. He flipped your dress up, nearly ripping it during the process, shoved your lacy panty aside, and plunged his fingers inside. He felt a visceral sense of validation course through him at finding wetness coating his slender fingers to your utter mortification.
"Liar. I know you haven't been fucking anyone else." His smile is all teeth, pearly white and sharp,
You gulp, feeling sweat beading down your neck and arousal pooling at the bottom of your stomach. Damn yourself.
"You don't know that."
He looks almost feral, green eyes in slits and hair all mussed up, falling out of his usual bun. The top few buttons of his black button-up are left unfastened giving you a gracious view of his smooth muscular chest, and the dangling silver cross-chain.
"No, I do. See a little birdie told me all you've been doing the past few months is crying yourself to sleep, and eating frozen meals. This is the first time you've been out since I broke up with you, huh?" Condescension drips with every word.
He thumbs away the tear falling down your cheek with a mocking kindness and adds, "There, there. Don't cry. Good thing I happened to be here tonight, right?"
You're full-blown crying now, too upset to care if you're smudging your make-up. This is the real you. This is how Eren remembers you.
"Awe, my precious little crybaby, don't worry. You came here tonight looking for dick? I'll give it to you. It's okay," He coos, breath tickling the shell of your sensitive ears. Well, every part of you felt sensitive right now.
You're rubbing your eyes, sniffling, "E-exactly. You b-broke up with me, so why are you here? Why can't you just let me be?"
The dark-haired boy sighs, and with an uncharacteristic softness, leans his head down to press his forehead against yours, and intertwines his hand with yours, noses almost touching.
"To be honest, it was just to teach you a lesson." A soft exhale, "I didn't think you'd actually stay broken up with me." He's crushing your fingers now, "Didn't think we'd be broken up with for real."
Your eyes flash with indignation, feeling your body surge with an emotion you couldn't qualify, "I don't care. Yeah, I was sad but god, you were a terrible boyfriend! I'm so much better off without you. All those lonely nights are still better than any night I've ever had with you!"
You're breathless by the time you're done.
"Done with your little monologue?"*
You can feel your shoulders shaking, and you almost want to laugh from the indecorousness of it all. How could he not care? Was this how little you mattered to him?
"I know you're lying because" Without any preamble, he shoves his fingers inside of you again, finding that spongy spot that made your knees weak, eliciting a soft moan from your downturned mouth, "You're wet. And you want me."
"In fact," an edge of excitement colors his voice, "I bet your insides are still molded to fit my dick."
It's hard to talk when one thumb is violently brushing over your clit, and his tongue is forced into your mouth, drowning any whines of protests. You close your eyes, focusing and unfocusing. A hand snakes up your dress to fondle your tits and tease your perky nipples.
It's just one sensation over another, and your sex-deprived body was welcoming all these feelings with open arms. Eren knows your body like it came with an instruction manual and that manual advised him to bite your earlobe, which was especially sensitive. He knew where on your collarbone you liked to be marked, how hard you wanted your nipples pinched, and how you could ride his face with complete abandon.
But right now, he didn't want to pleasure you. He's coaxed enough orgasms out of you throughout your relationship.
He unbuckles his belt and frees his long slender cock, the head a flushed angry red, dribbling with precum. He lines his full-mast cock to your entrance. Fully alert as to what was about to happen, pretty pleas of "no Eren, please don't, no" are falling out of your mouth, wide starlit eyes dotted with pearlescent tears. He kisses the top of your head like the way he always used to.
And then he thrusts himself inside. You give up so easily, he thinks. Do you even realize how you're swinging your hips on your own accord? How you're wrapping your lush legs around his waist to pull him deeper?
His pace is ruthless, making your head bob up and down. Moans and grunts drown out the music from the club. You're begging him to slow down.
"You're mine. Always mine. Always were. Can't fucking believe you really thought-" He doesn't even finish his thought because a violent shudder rips throughout his body.
Your nails are digging into his back, so sharp it could have been clawed. You could feel yourself right on the edge-
The door shakes to reveal a tall young man with slicked-back blond hair with a frat-boy laugh.
"Holy shit! Eren?!"
fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkcufkcufckfuckfuckfuckfuc
Shame burns your face. You have no choice but to cover yourself behind Eren's broad frame. You're just hoping to every god he'll go away, and keep this to himself.
Your dark-haired ex-boyfriend turns around to face the blond, "A little busy here, Porco. Shut the door. I'm uh, getting reacquainted with someone."
"Goddamn. Is that ___" You don't even have to look at Porco to recognize how impressed he was.
"Get out Porco." Eren growls.
The door closes with a loud thud.
You're borderline hysterical at this point begging Eren to get out of you, but his grip on your hips is iron-tight.
Outside you hear stunned gasps, but one phrase stands out to your straining ears: "Yeah, I guess they're back together."
Eren kisses the top of your head once more, "After I fuck you, we'll go home together girlfriend."
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* {A/N}: This line "Done with your little monologue?" is inspired by this delicious fic by @hotwings0203.
#yandere eren x reader#eren yeager x reader#toxic eren#eren yeager x reader fanfiction#attack on titan fanfiction#dubcon tw#tw noncon
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Hi so im thinking this idea of au where Nico can see ppl mind whenever they touch him and back. its a cursed thing bc all he ever felt is ppl's hostility towards him, whether that "annoying kid", "scary scary", "thy son of hades holds the world's crushing grudges", "hes suspicious we cant trust him", "hes gonna kill us all one day", "creep" or "im going to kill him"
Solangelo mind reading upon touches au (with Nico can read a small amount of thought from people's mind base on how they touch him)
Bianca is straight out, "youre annoying and i love u so much, but i dont want to carry more burdens, dont want you to always put everything u care and trust on me, i want u to find yourself, your own path, follow your heart, not me and also, you are not allowed to watch aquaman until your 13th birthday"
Percy's more complicated, its a mix with guilt, anger, betrayal, brotherly love, annoying, sad, sorrow, "im so sorry Nico", "gods this kid is going to be the death of me", "why did u do that i trusted you!", "im sorry im so sorry you dont have to forgive me im sorry", "i trusted you", "why", "he doesnt...hate me?", "imma make a drop dead joke abt his dad", "i hate him im going to do everything for my lil bro"
Annabeth is quite brief actually, but i imagine it goes like "u go and slay kid", "thank you", "deserved", "gods hes such a nerd i like him", "wtf we can eat spiders as FOOD??? the demigods saved humanity for million times and this is what we ge—"
Hazel is very wholesome and nice, "you saved my life", "Im willingly trust u with everything", "youre my brother! happy happy!", "f— sh— holy he—", "baby bear frank we stan", "ppl find u untrustworthy but dont worry Nico i do and i will shove this sword up thei—", "i love u brother", "i wonder what Bianca will think of me"
Jason's wary at him at first but after the Cupid incident he becomes protective and cares for him a lot, "i dont trust him", "son of hades what will u do", "grrr woof woof bark arf", "piper, leo piper leo..", "hes scary", "does nico eat fancy stuff—", "hes brave", "nico youre the best u deserved the world", "im sorry for not trusting u", "im glad i know i appreciated u", "i hope hes ok", "nico you idiot thats not self loving thats self harming com'ere ill give u a hug", "its going to be alright bro", "dont be sad youre great you should know that everything is going to be alright"
Lastly Will Solace, dude this guy is just full on, sentimental, love, gentleness it makes Nico shooked so badly every time they touch, theres even this electrify feeling and warmths and affections, is not like, is not the same as everyone else. And, Nico fall for it every time, in denial, but he can not chase that weird sappy thing in his heart away, cannot ignore it any longer, cannot be in denial, any longer.
they touched the first time, and all Nico see is just worried and strangely huge amount of adoration, "omg did i...touch him, with my hand, which just delivered a baby satyr?", "shit hes cold", "also cute", "dammit Will nows not the time everyone's dying", "imma warm up his pretty warrior hand that is full of scars and scratches", "hes fading", "oh no oh gods no shit keep calm keep calm keep calm", "please i just met him", "i dont want you to fade away", "i have to—i have do something—anything", "fricking speak Will! speak! hes going to disappear again!", "that shirt is cute and disgusting, but overall looks very nice on you", "not that idiot", "smart stuff", "youre going dark and its terrifying me how much i dont want you to—", "what did you do to me", "you are driving me insane"
the second time in the infirmary is just Will being a lovesick puppy and a concerning friend.
"youre old", "im sorry let me fix that", "youre dense and i love-hate you for it", "im worried", "careful focus stitches careful steady blood careful calm bandage", "did i hurt you", "im sorry if i did", "no why would i think that", "of course hes hurted", "he doesnt look like it", "i want to somehow help you other than healing i want to help you but what should i do", "what if hes uncomfortable", "what if i make him uncomfortable", "but hes just", "i need you", "i want to help you", "not as a medic or healer or therapist", "something more", "you are so...nice", "what did you do to me", "ambroisa unicorn draught maybe lights he needs to be at shine", "please dont go", "please come back, "i look forward to seeing you", "hi its nice your face nice your smile nice", "please dont disappear", "i like you", "lots of things about you", "everyday nico everyday nico", "you need every rest you can get you can have everything you want", "even me"
the third time and is just, is too, driving Nico crazy. Despite all the things Will said, not even once of them connected to those inside his head, why, why tho, why him, why this Apollo's son choose him, of all campers, why him, why? And one single touch then this mind-blowing fact hit him harder than a truck.
"i love you"
oh...huh, its simply as that? he is, nico—is, that dense and stupid, isnt he.
Nico, tapping Will's shoulder: Will, can I um, have that?
Will: Have what? "im here you know u can have me instead", "that fricking caramel chocolate candy bar", "you can have anything hon just kiss me", "actually no id died", "worth it", "he looks cute today as well", "dear diary hes cute FUCK—"
Nico, choking: I—nothing. I want to sit with you
Nico, petting Will on his head: Hey, I was just wondering—
Will: "FUKA AFSHEJDKHSSHJA HE TOUCHED MY HEAD—", "soft hand soft hand soft hand soft hand soft hand", "AAAAAAAAAAAAAA—", "its Nico", "Nico Nico Nico Nico—", "and iiiiiiiiiiiii—", "crying right now", "fuck my face is red isnt it duck shieee no no nono calm calm"
Will, blushing: Yes, I'm available, what's up?
Nico, snorts:
Will, leaning his head on Nico's: Nico? "oh gods its happening everyWill calm down oh gods oh gosh", "calm calm calm calm wheres medic Will! We need his ungayness", "nowhere! we lost him seven days ago!!", "wtf thats three nico days he died that early!—", "fuck we doomed"
Nico, trying to hold in his laughter: Y—Yeah?
Will: It's on my mind for awhile "no itS DUCKING NOT—", " i dreamed abt you", "no this is not a dream fuck fuck duck duckshit", "i thought of you every—", that I always wanted to, um, wanted to spend more time with you, to hang out or wanted, you know, be with you, like, "for the rest of my life say it coward say it say it saY IT SAY IT" m—most of the time, and would you mind if I—
Nico is so red, he's not even ashamed of it at this point: If you?
Will: A—Ask you out..."on a date on a date on date on date" on a—on a—
Nico: Yes...?
Will: —trip to Starbuck where we can eat fancy coffee and laugh at stupid drinks like Crystal Ball Frappucino or something "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—", "WHY DO WE KEEP LOOSING", "FOR GODS SAKE ITS LITERALLY RIGHT THERE", "WE ALMOST FRICKING HAD IT FUCK—", "BUT ITS TECHNICALLY A DATE RIGHT??? ITS A DATE RIGHT???"
Nico, trembling: G—Gods sure Will sure, snorts I—of course I'd lov—love to
Nico, pokes Will's back: Will...
"Will", hardly breathing: "cute cute cute cute cute cute nico cute cute cute", "hes being a babyyyyyy—", "fuck thats cute", "is he pouting??? is thaT A FCKING POUT—", "mind be calm and im having a heart attack", "i wanna hug him"
Will: Oh? What's wrong, love?
Nico: It's nothing important, really. I don't know how to explain it. I'm just...kinda, gloomy, at the moment
Will, immediately: "i wanna hug him", "you wanna hug?" You wanna hug? "—OH SHI—"
Nico: Yes, took you long enough
#nico: i do have a very soft hair#nico: and it smells quite pleasant too#will: it—it is...#he just enjoying ppl being wild#one time he touches will and everything starts screaming#nico is very good at you laugh you lose challenge hes destroying it#nico: i think youre cute#will in his mind: RED ALERT ITS TIME TO HAVE A MENTAL BREAKDOWN#will: such poetic words it brought me tears#solangelo#solangelo au#nico di angelo#will solace#percy jackson and the heroes of olympus#percy jackson#annabeth chase#hazel levesque#bianca di angelo#jason grace
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Your Boy, No?
pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader
genre: drabble, smut, college au
synopsis: You can't stand seeing Jungkook with another girl, so you give him a piece of your mind in a stranger's bedroom by becoming his outlet of sexual frustration.
warnings: losing virginity, riding, degradation
a/n: jungkook's character is not exactly submissive, so i added my own twists to this request. i hope you don't mind @madygswich c:
word count: 2.5k
You can't stop pouting. Holding back tears when seeing a woman perched up on Jungkook's lap while they make out has proven to be difficult, but you're trying. It hurts your heart; hell, you're aching everywhere. It doesn't take a genius to know he's doing it to get a reaction out of you when his eyes are throwing daggers at you with his tongue down another girl's throat.
Following Jungkook around like a lost puppy isn't ideal, especially at a frat party. He never gives you the time of the day if it's not out of menace, but you aren't willing to give up on him. It's just not possible when you are so in love with him, and so fucking jealous.
More than Jungkook, you're mad at the girl. You want to rip her heart out, make her suffer for ever touching the love of your life. You're becoming irrational, mentally cussing her out for being a whore while you stop yourself from breaking down in a house filled with horny young adults. You don't know a single person here, and you have to deal with your pent up emotions all by yourself.
You choke out a sob when Jungkook starts kneading the girl's ass shamelessly with her skirt hiked up to her back. They're being so inappropriate in the kitchen of a stranger's house, while you can't even take a sip from your spiked drink in the bustling living room. You abruptly stand up and throw away your plastic cup when Jungkook's hand disappears elsewhere, and you have an idea of what he's about to do. You march over to him, looking absolutely tiny next to the overbearing college students and you don't notice Jungkook's sinister smile as he watches you fume.
"Let go," you sound hoarse, and not at all intimidating when you push the girl off of his lap. She stumbles at the force, but you pay no mind to her confusion as you pull Jungkook up by his arm to drag him away. You think it's the anger and adrenaline giving you so much strength, but it's Jungkook amusing himself by allowing you to take him upstairs.
"This isn't a therapy session, little girl," he yells over the music, "I didn't come here to listen to you cry."
You huff and let a single tear slip before harshly wiping it away. When you reach the hallway, you enter the first bedroom you find. It's occupied by a foreplaying couple, but you're driven as you hiss, "Out!"
They leave at your demand, and you're confusing a lot of people tonight. Jungkook is surprised by your sudden aggression, but he doesn't stop with his remarks, "the chihuahua's gone mad."
"Shut up, Jungkook!" you whirl around angrily to face him. "How could you do that to me?!"
He quirks a brow. "Do what to you? I'm sorry, am I the one who forcefully brought you here? Am I tripping or are you?"
You push at his chest, "you're a fucking whore! Tonguing a girl in front of everyone, in front of me?"
His shoulders shake in silent laughter and you cross your arms when he starts cackling loudly. The music is drowned out and muffled behind the door, but it's nothing compared to how hysterically Jungkook is laughing.
"What's so funny?" you ask lamely. He throws his head back as he clutches his stomach, and you're starting to get annoyed. You push him on the bed, but he's still laughing. "Quit it already," your voice wavers, but you don't back down as you smack his chest. You place your knees on both sides of his hips to limit his movement and cover his mouth to shut him up.
His crescent eyes turn intense instantly as he glares at you under his hooded lids. He exerts only a tiny bit of his energy into pushing your hand away and you weakly collapse on him. It's foul play to compete with his muscles, and you realize he can snap you in half if he wanted to regardless of your rush of adrenaline.
You sit back up as he lowly speaks, "The fuck's it to you? I wanted to fuck her, and I was going to until you stepped in as if you're my girlfriend. Tell me why I shouldn't go back to her right now." He clasps his hands under his head, making himself comfortable with your weight pressing against his crotch.
"You know why," you huff with a frown, and you look so cute in the dim lighting with your baggy knitted sweater bunching up on the sleeves, sitting on his bulge with so much innocence in your expression. He's smitten, but it doesn't show in his cold stare. "I'm your girl, and I won't tolerate you messing around with other women. It's slutty!" You slightly bounce for emphasis, but your knee-length skirt hides your actions. Jungkook feels it with you, and his eyes trail down to your lower region.
"My girl?" he parrots with a raised brow. He gazes back into your eyes. "You do my homework."
"I don't care. I love you," you plead pathetically, "please say you love me back."
"Wasn't I a whore just a second ago?"
"You were! Apologize to me," you harshly yank his head back by his hair. He doesn't react in the slightest, so you softly add, "please."
"Oh little girl," he sighs, "are you really trying to dominate me right now?"
"I am dominating you. Promise me you won't kiss another girl like that again. I won't forgive you a second time."
"Yeah? What's my loss?"
"Well, you're lazy in school," you bluntly state, "and no one loves you like I do. No one would try to cater to you like I do. I'd do anything for you, Kookie." You tug down your skirt to take it off and plop back down on him before saying, "Including sex. You can only use me for your sexual needs."
He's enamored by your words, but he doesn't dare share it with you. Instead, he thrusts upwards and you yelp when you jump. "Go on then," he says nonchalantly. "Show me how much of a slut you are."
"U-Um, okay," you stutter and start unzipping his black denim jeans. You've seen a lot of porn videos to make sure you were prepared for the next step with Jungkook, but you have no experience with penetration.
And he realizes that rather quickly when you're so meek with your actions. With a groan, he asks, "You're not a fucking virgin, are you?"
"I've been saving it for the right guy," you answer with offence. This is a special occasion, and you want him to take it as seriously as you do. But it's definitely not a good idea to be snarky with him when you can barely remember the steps for safe sex. "Do you have a condom?"
"It's in my pocket," he grumbles and points at his front without taking it out himself. You're excited and nervous as you tear the wrapper and take out the preservative. You have no idea how to put it on, but you're topping so you clumsily push down his briefs. Jungkook is surprisingly throbbing under you, and you blush at the sight of his erection.
He stops himself from teasing you and saying that the girl from earlier gave him this boner, but he doesn't want to be cruel yet. It's your first time, and truthfully, he jacks off to thought of you too often anyway. He can handle being somewhat nice by staying quiet, but that doesn't mean he would teach you how to put on a condom.
You slip it on with little struggle, and don't waste any time in positioning his cock in your entrance. Before he can stop you, you sink down on his length with a painful moan. He wants to tell you that losing your virginity in this position is the most painful, but instead he groans, "Holy shit, how are you so fucking tight?"
It hurts so fucking bad. Your tear ducts are like clockwork as they water instantly, but you lower yourself down to the hilt anyway. You're quite literally sitting on his cock as you try to catch your breath because God, you're in so much pain.
"Fuck, are you okay?" he asks, but he's more worried about controlling himself from fucking into you before you can adjust. It's difficult, but he's trying.
"Jungkook," you whimper quietly with your eyes screwed shut, "it hurts."
"You're so fucking dumb for doing this, but you feel so fucking good," he pants as he holds your hips.
"Thank you," you muster out in a breath. A few seconds pass until the pain starts to numb, and you move against him very slowly. Your walls are stinging, but it feels like Heaven for Jungkook who you clench down on.
"Go up and down," he instructs with a bit lip. He tries to move your hips, but you're resisting in fear of another shock of pain. "Come on!"
"Can you wait?" you hiss through clenched teeth.
He's trying to rile you up when he says, "Sana wouldn't take this fucking long."
And it works, because you bounce once. "Don't say her name!"
He groans at your tightness, and he can't believe how wet you are. You're dripping on him, and he curses himself for holding back because of your hopeless romance. He can't entertain your conservative way of going on about this any longer, so he continues, "She would have made me cum by now, but this prissy princess can't even get a move on."
It's almost pathetic how one push from Jungkook makes you start moving, and it feels less uncomfortable to hop up and down against his pelvis. The filthy sound of slapping skin mixing with the generic radio music is making you feel so slutty because it's so stereotypical, but when Jungkook moans, it brings heat all over your body. You take your sweater off when sweat begins to cumulate on your temples, and he commands, "Take off your bra too."
He's thrusting into you as you unclasp the black material, freeing your breasts as he finds his new eyecandies. You are so pretty, your nipples are so hard, and your cunt sucks him in so perfectly. It almost upsets him when he realizes how much pleasure he's deprived himself of; the amount only you seem to be able to provide, because it's beyond physical intimacy.
"Good girl," he exhales and gently slams into you with his hands fondling your tits. You smile coyly through your tears, and he asks, "Does it still hurt?"
You contemplate for a second, because you don't feel the best yet, but you don't want to disappoint Jungkook either. "I-It doesn't," you lie.
Jungkook mentally rolls his eyes; he really wants to believe you so he can chase his high, but he sees right through you. He slaps your tit without mercy and chastises you, "don't lie. I thought this was your little moment of control."
"I'm sorry," you pout as you slowly ride him.
"Another lie," he slaps your other tit more harshly and you yelp.
"I'm not lying!" you plead and hasten your pace, desperate to sell your lie. It's working, because you're starting to feel a knot in your stomach the more you adjust.
He moans with you, and you lose yourself when he stills your hips and begins to fuck you himself. It's rough, loud, and the pain is your pleasure. His balls slap against your skin as he easily slides in and out of you with the help of your arousal. Your love dawns on him when you're so turned on for him without any foreplay, and he's on cloud nine because nothing can compare to being inside you.
The setting is so unlike you, fucking in someone's bedroom with a bunch of people behind the unlocked door who can barge in at any given moment, but he finds it so sexy. You only care about being with him, and you really do look like his slut now.
His hands start holding onto your ass, kneading it until it turns red with his fingerprints, and he demands you to kiss him. You're out of it, your ears are ringing and you can only moan out his name, but you can't bear to ignore him. Your lips fall on his, and the kiss is sloppy with his tongue all over your mouth. You can't keep up, but your chest swells with pride when you realize how needy he is for you. He goes as far as to spit in your mouth, and you swallow it without hesitation.
"You want me to play with your clit?" he murmurs against your lips, and his voice sounds so airy and melodic to your ears. "Hm? Want me to make you feel good, little slut?"
You whine without a clear response because his lips feel so soft and wet, and that's the only thing you can focus on. All you want to do is kiss him and he doesn't stop you from doing so, but you're even more overwhelmed when he starts touching you while penetrating you. "No," you whimper, "I'll cum."
"A slut can take it," he grunts and rubs your clit faster, and you come undone all too soon. You moan loudly as you tremble, shaking as he rides out your high with a pinch to your clit. You're numb when you collapse on top of him, but he's relentless with his thrusts. He's using your body as you intended, and he's vocal with his pleasure and teasing climax. It's remarkable how he holds you up when you've gone limp and still fucks you just as hard.
You want to record his voice when he starts to whine pathetically, but you have no energy left within. He's panting in your ear, and it's not long before his hips fall on the mattress with a sigh. He's surprised by how powerful his orgasm was, as he fills the condom with his release instantly. His cock is still nestled inside you as both of you recover from your climax.
"Get off," he taps your thigh, and he pushes you off when you don't obey immediately. Your spell has worn off as he starts to dress himself. "I'm going back to the dorms." You listen to him with your mind in a haze. "Unless you want to get raped on your way without me, get the fuck up now."
"Can you carry me please?"
He shrugs and swings your arm over his shoulder, picking up your body with ease. He collects your clothes in his hand, but doesn't hand them to you as he steps out of the room.
"W-Wait, Jungkook, I'm naked-"
"You're my girl, no? Be a good slut and shut the fuck up."
Dangling off his shoulder with your bare tits pressed against his back, you close your eyes and drift off on the way to campus.
Boyfriends typically drop their girlfriends off anyway, right?
#bts scenarios#bts jungkook#jeon jungkook#bts imagines#bts x reader#jungkook x reader#bts smut#jungkook smut#jjk smut#jungkook imagines
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How about the demon brothers letting their s/o touch their horns(and other appendages) for the first time?
I love this prompt so much, thank u anon!! (I’d also definitely be down to go more in depth on any of these and write a whole fic for it, drop a comment or request if you’re interested in that heh)
Lucifer
• It takes a very long time for him to be open to the idea
• One day he gets an email with bad news and he’s so mad - boom. Demon form
• You walk in after your classes to check on him and he’s sitting at his desk, wings broadly behind his back and his head in his hands, frustrated grumbling coming from his mouth
• “Lucifer?” you say quietly, not wanting to scare him
• He looks up at you, eyes filled with a deep rage, but he settles a bit at your presence
• You walk over to stand next to him, putting your hand on top of his gently
• You then move to put your other hand on his shoulder, but he instinctively moves away, causing your hand to brush his wing
• A moan of relief leaves his mouth, and he looks up at where you’re standing
• “I- I’m sorry...I didn’t-”
• But he cuts you off, “No no, it’s okay my love” he said, voice still clearly angry but gentle towards you
• “Can you...rub my feathers? It’s...comforting” he asks, not used to showing weakness or his demon form to you
• You do so, slowly running your hands down his feathers, leaning in and pressing a kiss on the back of his head, directly between his horns
• Your hair brushes them, and you turn to admire them
• “Luc-” you start, but it’s like he can read your mind
• “You can touch them, just be gentle. Like you are with my wings” he whispered, voice already much calmer from your gentle touch
• You leave one hand stroking his wings, but move the other to his horn. You run your fingers up it lightly, fingertips brushing against the ridges before you return your hand to the base and repeat the motion
• He could have fallen asleep you were making him feel so relaxed, but he knew he had work to do
• He was humming softly in pleasure throughout this btw
• After a bit of this, he whispers “Thank you my love~ you can stop now if you’d like”
• After a few moments you do, turning him in his chair to face you so you can kiss him
• He smiles into it, and you stay with him until he’s done with his work
Mammon
• You’re drinking together in his room
• Originally you weren’t going to get drunk, since it was just the two of you, but one thing lead to another and here you were
• You were giggling together about something stupidly funny, tears brimming in your eyes
• A few hours pass, and it’s 3 in the morning. You’ve sobered up a bit and somehow found yourselves in a deep conversation, sitting across from each other on his couch
• You were telling him about your ex-boyfriend, and how he left you for someone else
• Mammon was enraged, “What a stupid human! Leaving you is the stupidest thing a stupid little human could ever do!”
• Suddenly he’s in demon form
• “Oh, shit Mammon I didn’t mean to make you mad...”
• He seemed a bit surprised himself, but there he was
• “Mah human...comere” he said, standing up and holding his arms out to you
• You obey (pun kinda intended), standing up and walking towards him, a bit hesitant to get too close since you’d never touched him in demon form before
• He pulls you into a hug, and after a few moments you feel his bat-like wings wrap around you
• They’re warm, and much softer than they look
• You relax into his embrace, and he sighs against your skin
• “I love yah, human”
• You exhale through your nose, not wanting to move a single centimeter from your position in his embrace
• “I love you too, Mammon”
Leviathan
• You’re in his room, watching anime from his bed
• It’s the last episode, and you’re both on the edge of your seats
• Then, it’s over
• Neither of you could have predicted the ending
• It was......horrible
• He was on his feet, screaming at the tv as something crossed your eyes
• It was...a tail? Holy shit...he was in demon form
• “Levi, babe, sit down” you said, trying to soothe him
• He listened, sitting down, but his hands were shaking he was so upset
• “Can I put my arm around you?” you whispered, not wanting to overstep
• He nodded, and you did so. You spoke calming words in his ear as you rubbed your hand up and down his arm, keeping an eye on his tail so you didn’t accidentally touch it
• You could tell your words were getting through to him when his tail rested on the bed behind you, wrapping around where you were sitting on the bed
• A silence fell between you, and you hugged him a little tighter
• “Can I...ask you something” he whispered
• “Always”
• “Can I...” he paused for a moment, debating whether or not he should continue, “put my tail in your lap?”
• “Of course” you whispered, your heart swelling with happiness that he trusted you this much
• You felt it lift off the bed and slowly rest in your lap
• You held your hands up a bit, not wanting to do anything too much
• “You can...touch it” he whispered, taking your hand off his shoulder and placing it on his taik
• It was warm under your palm, and you ran your hands down it, following the direction of the scales
• The two of you stayed like this for a few minutes, stroking his tail tenderly before he suddenly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him as he spooned you
• His tail wrapped over your hips and rested in front of you, and you slowly took it in your hands, cuddling it a bit
• You fell asleep like that, and when you woke up the next day his tail was gone and he was back to his casual attire
Satan
• You’re in his room at RAD, chatting about the book he pre-ordered that’s supposed to be delivered today
• Suddenly his D.D.D. vibrates, and he looks down to check it
• He reads, then rereads, then rereads again
• “Satan...?” you ask
• “yoU’RE KIDDING ME!!” he explodes with a few more expletives, suddenly In demon form in front of you
• “Satan, what happened” you said, coming standing up but not moving closer
• “Th-the stupid bookstore isn’t shipping the books until tomorrow!!” he said, voice filled with rage
• “Shit...I’m so sorry Satan” you said, stepping forward a bit
• “No..stay away...I don’t want to hurt you...” he warned you, “I’m so mad right now I don’t know if I can control myself”
• You hear him, staying back, but watching him pace in anger breaks your heart
• “Satan~” you whisper, running over to him and wrapping your arms around him tightly
• He froze a bit, but quickly wrapped his hands around you back, giving you a tight hug
• Before you knew it you felt his tail wrap around you two, holding your bodies together
• “I...” he whispered, trying to think of an explanation for his actions
• “It’s okay...I understand” you reassure him, and he presses a kiss against your cheek
• "Can I feel your tail?” you whisper quietly
• “Yes” he responded, equally as quiet
• This was the first time you were even seeing his demon form up close, and you ran his tail between your fingers
• You slipped a hand to the back of his head, and ran your hand through the back of his hair. Your hand moved up more, resting a bit between his horns
• “You can rub my horns if you want” he added
• You do, moving your hand to one of his horns and lightly running your fingers along it
• He exhales against your neck, relaxing into your touch as his tail loosens around your bodies, your touch relieving him of the anger that previously ran through his veins like fire
Asmodeus (16+)
• He’s on top of you, grinding against you desperately and whispering degrading comments in your ear
• You let out a feral moan, fingernails digging into the back of his shoulder blades
• Suddenly his wings appear, and he looks down at you with horns
• You know you’re in for it
• “T-Touch my wings baby~ they’re extra sensitive the closer you get to the tip”
• You listen to him, carefully running your fingers against his silky wings
• He moans shakily against your neck, sucking a mark into you as your fingers trace light patterns against his wings
• “My horns too~” he whispered, smirking into you
• One of your hands flew to his horns, and your finger circled against the tip before swirling down to the base, and you let your fingers massage his horns
• He started thrusting into you, begging you to keep touching his wings and horns
• After you were done (it had been a few hours) he was still in demon form, and you laid together, your head on his chest as one hand played with his hair and horns, the other drawing patterns on his wings
• He whispered how much he loved you and how amazing you are at touching him as you fell asleep In his arms
Beelzebub
• You enter the kitchen to see your boyfriend turned away from you, on his D.D.D. with someone, so you quietly take a seat as to not disturb him
• Suddenly he’s screaming, “This is unacceptable!!! I want my partner’s favorite food damnit!! I will not settle for some demon world crap, I want the best of the best from the human world!!”
• His horns suddenly become visible, and you don't know whether to stay and comfort him or sneak out and give him his privacy
• But you don't have to decide, because he’s angrily tossing his D.D.D. onto the counter and freezing in place when he sees you, sitting there worridly
• “Honey...” he whispers, walking over to you
• “Beel...what’s going on” you ask, “Are you okay?”
• “I don’t want to tell you yet...it’s a surprise”
• You got up and stood in front of him, “Hug?”
• “Hug” he nodded, pulling you tight against him
• His wings were a bit lower than his brother’s, and you were careful not to touch them. You felt surprised enough you were hugging Beel in demon form, but you two had such a deep bond you knew you could trust him
• Almost as if he could tell you were being cautious of his wings, he said “You uh, you can touch my wings if you want..it’d actually feel nice...”
• “Oh...okay...but let me know if I should stop” you said, and then gently placed your hand on one of his wings
• You ran your fingertips across it, being very gentle as his wings felt a bit thin
• “They won’t break, they can’t” he assured you, and he pulled away a bit, turning around so you could fully see (admire) his wings
• You ran your hands over them, admiring the intricacy of their design
• After a moment he turned back around to face you, and leaned down to show you his horns
• “I’ve...never let anyone touch me like this...” he confessed, hiding his blush as he looked down to let you touch them
• You admired his horns for a moment before reaching out to them, gently running your hands over the rigid bumps across them
• After you had finished, you put your hands on his cheeks and lifted him up, pressing a kiss to his lips
• “Thank you, Beelzebub. I love you” you whisper, knowing he’d know how genuine you were by the use of his full name
• “I love you too, [Y/N]”
Belphegor
• The two of you are just about to nap in his room when Lucifer comes storming in, scolding him for something or other
• Belphie takes a minute to register what’s going on, but as soon as he does he’s out of bed in a blind rage
• “LUCIFER!!! SHUT!!! UP!!!” he yells, in demon form
• You wake him up, you suffer the consequences lol
• After a few moments Lucifer leaves, rolling his eyes as he closes the door behind him
• He turns around to look at you, and your eyes are visibly nervous at what might happen
• “Sorry...I didn’t mean to flip out. You know how I get” he explained, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly
• “You’re good” you reassured him, “come back and lay down”
• He did so, positioning himself a bit weirdly as to not touch you with his tail
• “Belphie...if you want...you can...well, you can lay closer to me. I don’t mind touching your tail” you say, knowing it’s more of a him thing than a you thing, but now knowing how to go about addressing it
• He stayed where he was for a moment, processing your words, before scooting closer
• He lays on his side next to you, and gently places his tail across your lap
• You don’t touch it at first, it just being on your lap was a huge step and you didn’t want to push it
• “This means a lot” you say, wanting to make sure he knew the trust he was putting in you
• He nods, and after a moment closes his eyes
• You do the same, placing your hand on your lap, just above where his tail lies, slowly moving It down to rub the soft hair at the end
• By the time you’re both asleep, your hand is wound inside the end of his tail, the smooth hair feeling good against your warm fingers
• Neither of you talk about it after, but you can feel the bond is strengthened between you
#obey me#obey me headcannons#obey me shall we date#obey me imagines#obey me lucifer#lucifer x mc#mammon#mammon x mc#leviathan#obey me leviathan#leviathan x mc#asmodeus#asmodeus x mc#obey me satan#satan x mc#obey me satan x mc#beelzebub#beelzebub x reader#belphegor#obey me belphegor#belphegor x mc
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what if....just WHaT iF senior y/n started to prepare lunch boxes again?? and shy stem koo is all giddy and happy to see them placed on his desk (gahhh idk if that’s a good idea or if it makes sense at all) as always, thank u so much for writing for us!!
omg ok... can we see when y/n starts to leave “his” lunchboxes again??? 😄
cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D
stem koo loses in a competition but he wins at the end of the day (kind of)
the universe is out to get jungkook
there's a hit list and he is the only person that comprises the entirety of it
the world is his oyster and it offers him nothing but Ls
he has a guardian angel but the only thing it guarantees is his downfall!!!!
“in 5th place, we have jeon jungkook!”
holy fUCK does he hate any ordinal rank that isn’t the first when it’s next to his name
god his face is being shown in the digital monitor and his eyes are quivering behind his glasses
maybe it’s just him but perhaps everyone in the auditorium could see how fRUSTRATED he is
his pupils keep dancing and he has a curt smile on and it’s physically a pain for him to go up the stage and claim his flimsy little piece of paper
jungkook clearly did not expect to go up on stage this early in time and certainly did not expect to be in fifth place ://
second is beyond embarrassing, third’s actually not that bad, fourth is an odd rank and always unnoticed, but fifth however is just plain-out gAG
the rank makes him shudder as if getting a consolation 2nd rank isn’t bad enough and they STILL decided to have the awards go up to fifth place
“in 4th place, park jimin– come right up!”
://
... naur
hold on a second
there is nO fucking way
don’t get him wrong!!! jimin is one of his closest friends but holy fuck this has gOT to be a punch in gut for jungkook
if he has to be very critical in an academic standpoint,,,
as in annoyingly critical
jimin’s more of a so-so alright :// he just randomly decided to shift to stem because he was getting bored of business!!! IT WAS NEVER HIS FIRST OPTION
he isn’t in much stem clubs like jungkook, doesn’t study as much as he does, always rests and goes out on weekends and takes breaks in between studying, not spending every moment trying to improve himself unlike him.....
u-uh which is normal
bUT JUNGKOOK FEELS LIKE JIMIN ISN’T ON HIS LEVEL
AND NEITHER SHOULD HE BE HIGHER
god does that sound problematic
the fact that jimin is surprised too helps ease the guilt that kook experiences tho
“really? shit, i just guessed half of the answers to the questionnaire LMAOOOOOOO”
...
.....
that’s it.
the world is out to get jungkook
he doesn’t necessarily take his anger out on people because he represses it all but he’s noticeably dull the whole day
and the day after that of course because he pours effort into everything!! and that includes sulking
“you’re worrying about that brat again,” yoongi says through his chewing, savoring every bit of the fish and chips you’ve made him, “the same brat who looked like he was gonna deck me, his senior, on the spot for eating from his lunchbox — which i’m also doing now!!”
he still isn’t over it alright
tbh yoongi kinda admires the kid because he’s smart and all that
and you also like him and he can kinda see why
BUT NOOOOO HE JUST HAD TO DO THAT ://
“i don’t care for him,” you scoff through the same chips you made yourself, wiping the residual oil on yoongi’s denim pants, “i’m just curious.”
“you don’t know?”
sheesh when did yoongi DO all the knowing
“he lost in this stem competition; something like that. anyways, it was our school’s turn to host it and he was one of our two representatives and yeah.... he’s fifth place.”
“he is????”
yoongi nods at your barely-concealed shock, “jimin ranked fourth.”
didn’t you just do a drinking tequila until you have a completely normal resting face competition last nIGHT?!???
:O
you feel sorry for jungkook :((
so much sorry and awed at the same time that you’d sell a lung to see him break into a smile from a corny ifunny.co science joke atleast once
“i have two rest periods in a row, right?” you ask yoongs while you try to gather your things to put them back in your backpack as calmly as possible, eyes not breaking character
“why do you assume that i’d know your schedule?” he grimaces at the concept of being thoughtful to his closest friend, “you have three rest periods in a row.”
“good. i’m just gonna get something back from the dorm.”
that something just had to be a fresh batch of newly-made fish and chips, tucked neatly into his electric lunchbox
jungkook’s about to call it a day because the three-hour lecture he used to find engaging is strenous, about to exit the room with his shoulders sagged when-
isn’t that his lunchbox?
it’s laid on the mini desk next to the exit, the all-too-familiar sticky note with the doodle and his name being stuck on — something he’s dearly missed
you did a good job, jungkook :)
jungkook feels dizzy to hold the lunchbox back in his hands, opening up to see if it tRULY is the deal and it’s with giddiness that he finds that his meal’s still warm
yeah
it’s okay
it’s more than okay
jungkook won this time :)
#SEND REQUESTS PLS the next part is where shit goes down and the other request i have is something v cute :D#PLS I NEED THE IN-BETWEENS!!!! GO CRAZY BESTIES#stem koo#jungkook imagine#jungkook imagines#jungkook oneshot#jungkook oneshots#jungkook drabbles#jungkook x reader
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Jealousy. (3/3)
𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | I WORKED SO HARD ON THIS AND I RLLY LOVED HOW THE ENDING WENT BUT IF U WANT ME TO WRITE A LITTLE EXTRA OF WHAT HAPPENS AFTERWARDS JUST SPAM MY INBOX K THX ENJOY!!!!
𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Teen! Gojo x Gender Neutral Reader
𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 2286
𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Cursing. ALL CHARACTERS HERE ARE AGED DOWN FROM PRESENT ANIME/MANGA INTO WHEN THEY WERE TEENAGERS.
𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | Your plan with Geto finally unfolds, and Geto thinks with the information he has gathered, that it’s a perfect time for you to confess to Gojo. Shoko answers your suspicions about her and Gojo before Geto crashes the scene, telling you last second that he had set you up with Gojo for a confession, you had almost no time to prepare. Before you could even hold a proper scolding, Gojo arrives, it’s time to confess.
“Okay, here’s the plan.”
Geto slapped his hand onto the table, handing you a fizzy drink. You watched the bubbles rapidly float upwards. Inside, there’s various fruits, strawberries, kiwis, some lemons for added fanciness.
“(Y/N), the drink is not what we’re focusing on.” he snaps his fingers, you glance up, he’s shaking his head and smiling.
“Sorry, uh, I’m not good with serious conversations.” you twiddle with your thumbs, studying the table. Your fingers itch for your something to fidget with, the whole reason why you two met up was awkward anyways.
You had conspired with Geto to make Gojo jealous. Having already tried being subtle, you had eyed him across the room, flirted with him, and he still hadn’t realized. You had bought him free stuff whenever you went to the store, and once again, he never really realized. Geto did, though. He always raised his eyebrows when you handed Gojo a bag of kikufuku from his favorite shop, or if you got him a stupid cheap trinket from the night markets.
The point being, you were much more affection with Gojo then anyone else.
Even when you tried to conceal this jealousy, the cracking point was when you had found out that Gojo had gone out with Geto the night before and had sex with a few random girls.
You had chewed Geto and Gojo both out, while Gojo was yawning and tousling his hair, boredom evident in his face, Geto examined every single little thing about your body language. How your face seemed to drop a little more when you talked about Gojo, and how you seemed so self conscious when you talked about the girls that he had had fun with.
He had approached you, with no time for small talk. His arms crossed, he blew a strand of hair away from his face, looking at you. He had oh so casually asked you if you had a thing for Satoru, and here you were now. Just short of having a heart attack from sheer panic.
“Hey. Don’t be scared.” placing one of his hands on your shoulder, he smiles. “I know Gojo, did I ever tell you how we compared dick sizes once? Wild, I’ve also had a few foursomes-”
You retch, and Geto snickers.
“Moving on, that guy gets jealous EASILY. He’s also as dumb as a rock, probably can’t define the word love.” he looks down, the easygoing expression on his face wiped off, replaced with a rather saddened one, “but I guess he hasn’t experienced the feeling a lot.”
He looks back up at you, brushing his bangs behind his ear. “This brings me to Operation: Make Gojo Jealous Because That’s The Only Way I Know How To Get Him To Realize If He Likes You or Not!”
He leans over the table, looking left and right before leaning into your ear. “What do we say if Gojo doesn’t like you back?”
Your stomach twists as the words, “Gojo doesn’t like you back.” echoed in your mind, you sigh.
“That’s okay Gojo, and whatever your opinion is, I will respect.”
“Perfect, if you have any objections, tell me now.”
A deafening silence settles between you two, he chuckles again.
“Also, Shoko’s smart as shit. She can probably catch on, or maybe she already knows that you have a crush on him. Maybe she’ll play into this, fair warning. Alright, ready? Listen close.”
He stops leaning over the table, sitting back down normally.
“We start spending a lot more time with each other, as in, we spend more than half of our day with one another.” you open your mouth to complain, as Geto would be sure to annoy you knowing that you had to spend half the fucking day with you, but he shushes you up with his finger.
“I’m a good stalker, so I’ll be watching Gojo. If he doesn’t have a crush on you, he’ll be just fine. Albeit, just a bit lonelier, because his best bud is ditching him for you, maybe talk to Shoko or some shit. If he DOES in fact have a crush on you, he’ll watch our every move. He doesn’t hide his anger very well, so I’ll be able to tell.”
“You’re a good WHAT?”
“Shut up, and I have everything planned out. We’ll probably have a celebration at this park after we get back from wiping out all the curses from this village, and by then I’ll have enough information to see if that’s a good day to confess to him. Understand?”
You nod, shocked that he had literally planned this all out. He gets up, nodding at you and waving, giving you a playful wink before leaving the room.
—
Here you were now, sitting on the picnic blanket. Shoko digs her hand into her pocket, pulling out a few cigarettes.
You eye them as she whips out a lighter, delicately placing the cigarette into her mouth and lighting it. Taking in a deep breath, you watch her exhale, a hazy cloud of gray swirled around into the air.
You never took Shoko as a person to smoke, but your gut wrenches. Does Gojo like smokers? He seemed interested in Shoko, and maybe Shoko was trying to confess with him before you and Geto had crashed the party.
Nervously shoving the marble in your ramune down, you stutter, Shoko glanced up. Her lukewarm eyes stared into yours.
“Have a question, honey?” her cigarette between her pointer and index, she coughs before placing it back into her mouth.
“Uh, yeah. A-actually.”
A pleasantly surprised face covered her calm expression, looking at you with curiosity, she nods, telling you to continue.
“...Do you have a crush on Gojo?”
She looks at you, bewildered, before pulling the cigarette out of her mouth. Chortling turning into coughing, she spits into the grass.
“Oh NO honey, I can’t even picture dating a guy, actually, especially not that monkey. What made you think that?”
Waves of relief rushed over your body, and you realize how stiffly you were sitting up. Relaxing your shoulders, you take a swig out of your ramune.
“Uh, I-I don’t know. I saw you two u-uh... Really close...”
Shoko smiles, her eyes crinkle at the side as she did. Scoffing a little, she places the cigarette back between her lips, taking a deep inhale before exhaling.
“We were talking about shit, no bother, oh hey, Geto’s back.”
You stare at where she’s pointing, Geto’s hands were shoved deep into his pockets. He had a toothy grin on his face, and strands of hair strayed from his bun as the wind whipped against him.
“(Y/N)! I have news~!” he screams, approaching the picnic with long strides.
Your heart jumps out of your chest, did he talk for you instead, and got Gojo to confess?
“I set you and Gojo up!” he sang, sitting down with a heavy thud and digging his hand into the picnic basket, sticking his tongue out as he searched for snacks. He looks at you sadistically, thoroughly enjoying the shocked expression on your face.
“WHAT?”
Shoko snickers a little, before changing it into a cough as you glare at her.
“Yep, he’s coming back now, so you better prepare!” yanking out a snack, he peers down. “Fuck yeah! Dried squid!”
“ARE YOU GOING TO FUCKING IGNORE HOW YOU JUST SET UP MY CONFESSION WITH GOJO SO CASUALLY?”
He looks up at you, sharing a look with Shoko before both burst into laughter.
“(Y/N) being angry is a fucking knee slapper, isn’t it Shoko?”
‘Who the fuck uses the phrase knee slapper, Geto?”
Ignoring Shoko’s sarcastic comment, Geto stared up at your figure. “Anyways, go for it sweetheart.” Geto calmly responds, Shoko still laughing.
You splutter, cursing Geto under your breath and everyone under his family tree for raising such a child.
“Aw hey now (Y/N), no cursing me! I know you’re doing it, and hey look, here he comes! Shoo lovebirds!” he waves his hand. Shoko, in an attempt to calm down, pulled her knee into her chest and giggled into her arms.
You match your line of sight with his, Gojo’s lanky build was quickly approaching. Instead of his usually scowling face, he seemed more relaxed.
“Yo.” he scratched the back of his neck as he walked up to the group, studying the grass. “Sorry for blowing up.”
Geto stood up, patting Gojo’s back. “There there, truthfully no one gives a fuck! Actually, I don’t know if you remember but (Y/N) over here requested your audience, bye bye now!” shoving Gojo in your direction, he stumbled a little, before scrambling and placing his hands on your shoulder.
‘Sorry.” he murmured, a light blush crept up to his cheeks. “had to try to grab onto something or else I fall flat on my face.”
You found your cheeks also getting warm, you touched your skin, thankful that he was looking in another direction.
“Yeah. No problem.”
“Fuck off, you two! Flirt somewhere else!” hollered Geto.
“OKAY, HOLY SHIT!” hollered Gojo back, rolling his eyes before he looked down at you.
“Geto told me you wanted to talk to me about something.”
Your breath hitched, and you nodded nervously, he cleared his throat, arm snaking around your waist.
Shocked by the sudden realization that he had his arm wrapped around your fucking waist, your heart was now pounding out of your chest, eyes wide.
“The plot thickens.” Shoko lazily laid her head down on Geto’s shoulder, he grinned.
“That’s my fucking child right there.”
—
Gojo walked with you on a long, narrow path. Trees as a sort of canopy hung over your head, rustling with the wind. No people in sight.
He cleared his throat again, looking down at you.
“Uh, here looks really nice. Pretty peaceful, and there’s seating.” he gestured to a bench with his unoccupied hand.
You nod as he pulled you a bit closer into him, before letting go.
A whine almost leapt out of your throat before he slammed your hands over your mouth, for all you knew he wasn’t going to ask you out, and rather ask you directions to the nearest bathroom or some shit.
“Hey, sit down.”
Snapping out of your daze, you nodded, sitting down and staring at the opposite direction of wherever he faced.
You wished you had the courage to stare at his face, to look at his sunglasses while he ruffled his snow white locks. His defined collarbones, and his chiseled jawline and...
“So! What did you wanna talk about, (Y/N)?” you whipped your head to stare at him, jumping a little as you did so.
“Um.” FUCK, what were you supposed to say?
“...Lovely weather we’re having?”
Gojo scoffed, leaning towards you. He really did know how to work a person. Breathing heavier then you were when he pulled you closer to him, you looked at him, anticipating whatever he would say.
“I know that’s... Not what you were asking to talk to me for. Let me guess, you have a crush on Geto and you want to ask me how to get him to like you?”
‘What! No!” you responded exasperatedly, hiding your face with your hands.
“I... Don’t have a thing for Geto!”
“What was that?” Gojo paused, before pulling at your sleeve. “Hey, I couldn’t hear you.” joking teasingly, he fixed his askew sunglasses.
“I DON’T HAVE A THING FOR GETO!”
He jumped back, rubbing his temples and sighing before chuckling.
“You didn’t have to be that fucking loud! Holy shit that hurt my ears.” rubbing them, he looked at you with a laugh.
You noted that his friendly behavior was back in business, as opposed to the serious one he had adopted as soon as you started hanging out with Geto.
Suddenly, the atmosphere changed as his laughter died out, both of you silent.
“Then... Who do you have a thing for?” Gojo whispered breathily, crossing his legs.
You opened your mouth, about to respond with every bit of power that you had left inside of your already frazzled body that he was the one that you had a thing for, and the one you had a thing for for multiple fucking months. You closed it before you could, taking a deep breath in.
“Hey.” leaning closer into your face, you swore you could count every hair strand that he had. He breathed heavily as well, and his chest heaved, he placed a hand onto your shoulder.
“It’s okay, you can tell me.”
You shook your head, looking away once again.
He cursed to himself, was he too straight forward? Or were you that stupid, did he have to confess himself?
No, he didn’t want to damage his pride. He wanted you to confess, to tell him how much you loved him, and the things you wanted to do together.
But what if you were going to tell him that you had a thing for Shoko or some shit?
“Come on, (Y/N), I won’t judge you.”
‘No!” you shook your head furiously again, “you’re going to judge me!”
“I wont, come on, spill!”
You bit your lip, twisting yourself to look at him, tears dawning on your eyes. Diving headfirst into his chest, you whined. Fuck it all.
“I like you, Gojo.”
“...What?” he wrapped his arms around your head, looking down at you sniffling on his t-shirt.
“I like you, I like you, I like you DAMN IT!” you whined, banging your fists against his chest weakly.
“Woah, hey there little baby.” he pushed your head gently off of him, kissing your red, sweating forehead gently.
“I like you too, (Y/N).
#teenage gojo satoru#gojo satoru#jjk gojo satoru#jjk fanfic#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#gojo#gojou#jujutsu kaisen#jjk gojo#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk geto suguru#geto suguru#jjk shoko ieiri#shoko ieiri#ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED DOWN TO SECOND YEAR#my characterization of geto and shoko? nonexistent#hehehe this is cute
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it's not an ask, but i don't know if i can send it on your chat, so... i saw your post about a song and a character from cobra kai and automatically thought of sk8r boi (avril lavigne) and robby 😩😩😩 have a nice day and don't forget to drink water 💞
THANK U FOR THE REQUEST i love this song sm
sk8r boi | robby keene x reader
warnings: swearing, some catcalling
summary: he was a skater boy! she said see you later boy! he wasn’t good enough for her! (hehe)
“Come on Riley, Mom wants us home by 6 and we still have to get stuff from the store,” you crossed your arms, annoyed at your brother. He ignored you, dipping down, wheels first, into the concrete bowl.
You shifted on your feet, feeling uncomfortable standing at the skate park with your ballet attire still on. You’ve just come back from rehearsal, and you had to pick up Riley because Mom was working a late shift.
“Shit Riley, I didn’t know your sister was hot. Qué pasa ballerina?” one of his friends winked at you, making you roll your eyes in disgust.
“Hey, do a little twirl for us princess,” another boy whistled and you glared at the group.
Pigs. Boys are pigs.
“Riley, let’s go,” you said firmly, turning away and heading to your car, leaving him with no choice but to follow if he didn’t want to walk home.
Your brother’s friend group of skaters hollered and whooped as Riley caught up to you, and you had to focus on your breathing to calm your anger. You hate being made fun of, but you reminded yourself that they were just a bunch of stupid, hormonal, punks.
“Your friends are assholes,” you commented, and your brother only nodded in agreement.
“Hey,” a voice called from behind you, but you kept walking, assuming that it was just another guy trying to poke fun at you.
“Hey, wait,” the person said again, this time grabbing your arm to stop you.
You turned around quickly, pulling away from their grip. “What?” you snapped, meeting a pair of calm green eyes.
It was one of Riley’s friends, the one with long hair. You don’t remember him saying anything to you earlier; he seemed to be quiet.
“I just wanted to say sorry. About them. They don’t know how to talk to girls, I promise they’re not that bad,” he said, holding his skateboard at his side. His genuineness surprised you.
“So you do?”
He gave you a confused look, furrowing his eyebrows.
“Know how to talk to girls,” you clarified and he chuckled.
“I know a thing or two. I’m Robby,” the boy stuck out his hand for you to take.
“Wow you’re good,” you joked. “I’m Y/N,” you took his rough hand in your soft one.
-
After that day at the skatepark, you couldn’t stop thinking about Robby.
You don’t know what it was about him. Maybe it was his glittery eyes. Or his pretty hair. Or the way he smiled with his whole face. Or maybe it was how he talked in a way that told you he was smarter than most people.
Maybe it was all of those things that made you daydream like a schoolgirl with a crush. And all you wanted to do was see him again.
“Jenny doesn’t even deserve the variation, I mean we all saw what happened last time. She almost fell off stage! Anyone but her should have it,” your friend Abby ranted, sipping on her milkshake.
It was after rehearsal and your friend group decided to go to a diner to get food.
“It’s clearly favoritism. She could do the whole routine wrong and Ms. Adams would still choose her. I think Jenny’s parents are definitely bribing her,” your other friend Vanessa added to the gossip.
The whole time, you were half listening to the conversation and half thinking about a certain skater boy. You couldn’t even control it; your thoughts always somehow drifted to him.
“Oh my god. Skaters,” Abby whispered, making you snap out of your daydream. You looked up to see a pack of boys coming into the restaurant, holding their boards at their hips.
Among them was your little brother and your heart raced as you recognized all of them.
It was like your overflow of thoughts about him had somehow materialized right in front of you. Robby.
Your hands started to sweat and you contemplated if you should hide or say hello, or just act like you didn’t see him.
You decided to go for the latter, and you slumped down in your seat to make yourself less noticeable.
“God, look at them. Skater boys are the scum of the earth,” Abby uttered, making a face of distaste.
“I would never date one. Even that’s below me,” Vanessa scoffed in reply.
You felt your cheeks heat up at their remarks, now feeling ashamed for your growing feelings for the very thing they were so disgusted at.
“Same,” you replied, despite feeling conflict in your heart. You looked over Vanessa’s shoulder to see him laughing with his group, and his happiness made your heart warm.
Before you could look away, his eyes met yours. You cursed internally at your ruined plans of trying to ignore him, but the damage was done. You shot him a small smile and a nod before returning your gaze back to your friends.
It took everything in you to not look at him again, especially with the feeling of his stare on you.
“Holy shit. One of them’s coming over,” Abby said in a hushed tone, your stomach dropping at her words.
You looked up to see Robby heading over to your table as you panicked on the inside.
“Hey Y/N,” he said as he approached, and you looked back at his table to see his friends watching.
“Robby! Hi!” you greeted nervously. “Uh, these are my friends. Abby and Vanessa. Girls, this is Robby,” you introduced them.
“Nice to meet you,” he nodded at them, and they waved. Their smiles were definitely fake, and you could tell how hard they were judging the boy in front of you.
“So, um, do you guys come here a lot?” you tried to make conversation, but the air was too awkward to be saved.
“Not really, our usual place was closed so we came here,” Robby explained, glaring at his friends who were starting to boisterously taunt. “I should go. Sorry about them. Again. Just wanted to say hey.”
“All good,” you laughed. “See you.”
As he walked back to his table your friends turned to you, mouths agape.
“You know him?! What was that?” Abby inquired, giving you a look of disbelief.
“He’s... he’s just my brother’s friend,” you shrugged, trying to play it off.
“Just your brother’s friend. He totally had heart eyes for you Y/N!” Vanessa nudged your side, making you shake your head in denial.
You rolled your eyes, but what she said gave you butterflies. “No way, I’ve only met him once.”
“Whatever, just don’t fall into the trap. You’re too good for a skater. They’re scum, remember?” Abby said, as she chewed obnoxiously on a fry. You found yourself suddenly annoyed at her.
“Yeah, of course. I would never,” you contradicted your feelings.
They were probably right. You don’t even know Robby, and you were from completely different worlds.
-
You told yourself that you would push away your growing feelings for Robby. But you couldn’t help but be excited when you have to pick up Riley from the skatepark. You couldn’t help asking your brother maybe too many questions about him, and you couldn’t help looking out for him every time you would go to the diner with your girls.
He would always talk to you, making you giddy for the rest of the day. You found yourself wanting to see him more and more.
“So how long have you been skating?” you asked the boy beside you.
You were waiting for Riley to finish so you could go home, but you let him take his time.
“I started when I was 11, but it’s been on and off,” Robby replied. “Have you ever skated?”
You laughed at the thought of yourself on a board. “Never. It looks cool though,” you watched as your brother skated off some stairs.
“I think you’d be good at it. I mean ballet and skating are pretty much the same thing,” he grinned at you, making you blush and look away from him.
“Ballet and skating couldn’t be more different,” you disagreed.
Robby shrugged. “Wrong. Both are centered around balance. Skating, if you think about it, is choreography. Sure we’re not as graceful, but it’s not as different as you think.”
You smiled to yourself at his wiseness. “I guess you’re right.”
There’s a moment of silence between you two as you both sat at the edge of the bowl.
“So when are we starting?” he spoke, making you tilt your head in confusion.
“Starting what?”
“I’m teaching you how to skate,” he answered nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t giving you a choice.
“What? I-I can’t skate,” you stammered. The thought of you embarrassing yourself in front of him made you want to puke.
“Which is why I’m teaching you. Come on, I promise I won’t let you hurt your pretty little ballerina face,” Robby smiled.
Your head suddenly felt dizzy at his small remark. Pretty. “I don’t know Robby...”
“Tomorrow. At 5. I’ll even take you to that diner you like after. It’s a date,” he said surely, making your cheeks warm up again.
A date? Your heart fluttered at the thought of him wanting to hang out with you. Alone. On a freaking date.
“Okay, fine,” you bit your lip, trying to hold back a huge smile. “But only because of the promise of food.”
-
“I hate you,” Robby huffed as he watched you effortlessly roll past him on his skateboard.
“I can’t believe you compared this to ballet, this is so easy,” you jeered, laughing at his defeated look.
“Oh calm down Ms. Black Swan, you haven’t learned any tricks yet,” he stood up, walking over to you. “I’m going to teach you an ollie.”
He grabbed the board and stood on it, leaning down on the edge with one foot so that the board was wheels up on the other side. “Just do that.”
Robby handed you the skateboard, and you copied everything he did. Except you lost your balance and the wheels slipped from underneath you. You grabbed onto his shoulders as a reflex.
Your breath hitched as Robby’s placed his hands on your hips to steady you, and your faces were inches away. He was so close that you could feel his breath and see the pattern of his eyes.
“Not so easy, is it now?” he said softly, still holding onto you. The air was now filled with a thick tension and you felt woozy from being so close to him.
“I... I guess not,” you fumbled over your words, feeling incredibly nervous looking into his eyes.
None of you were pulling away, and you weren’t sure if you should be the first to do so.
“Can I kiss you?” Robby whispered, making you breathless. You were sure that he could hear your heartbeat, because it felt like it was consuming you.
You only nodded, feeling speechless, and he leaned in to press your lips together.
It was everything you’ve ever dreamed of. And you dreamed about it a lot.
-
“You’re so much different from your friends. How come?” You chewed on a fry, questioning the boy sitting in the diner booth in front of you.
Robby tapped his lip in thought. “I don’t know. Maybe I just balance out the group. You’re different from your friends too. I mean I’ve only met them once, but I don’t think they like me,” he replied, and you cringed at the memory of your friends being so judgmental.
“That makes sense. And sorry about them. They can be... mean,” you apologized on their behalf, almost in the same way that Robby would for his friends.
“Speak of the devil,” Robby looked behind you, making your eyes widen. You turned around and there they were. Abby and Vanessa. You didn’t even care that they were hanging out with you; you were worried that they would see you with Robby.
You slumped down in your seat like you did when you were trying to hide from Robby before. “We should go now, right? It’s getting pretty late.”
Robby gave you a weird look, “Um... sure.”
“Y/N?” a dreaded voice called your name before you could make your escape.
You faced your two best friends. “Hey guys,” you said sheepishly as they walked up to your table.
“What are you doing with him? Oh my god, are you two on a date?” Abby gasped.
Vanessa joined in, “You said you’d never date someone like him. Oh come on Y/N, you know he’s not good enough for you. What happened to boys like him are below us?”
Robby’s face flashed with pain, but you were so selfish that you didn’t even notice.
“No- I- We’re just friends, I swear it’s not a date. I would never-” you stuttered, trying to save yourself, and you didn’t even think of Robby’s feelings at all. In the moment you only cared about your reputation and what your friends thought of you.
The boy you liked so much got up from the booth, throwing a wad of cash on the table. You felt your heart break as he walked away without a word and clenched fists.
You got up to follow him, but your friends pulled you back. “Just let him go Y/N. He’ll just break your heart,” Abby said coldly.
You ripped your arm away from their grip, running through the diner to catch up to Robby.
“Robby! Please, stop, I’m sorry,” you called after him, trying to keep up with how fast he was walking.
He ignored you the first time, increasing his pace.
“Please, Robby, can we just talk about it? I’m stupid, okay? Don’t go,” you pleaded, and he finally stopped in his tracks.
You’ve never seen his face like that, a mixture of anger and pain. The fact that it was directed towards you made you want to just melt away.
“You want to talk? Am I even good enough to talk to you? I’m sorry, should I be on my knees right now your majesty?” he said angrily, and you felt like crying.
You shook your head, “No, no Robby I swear I don’t think of you that way. I said things that I don’t mean and I’m so sorry. I- I just... my friends were saying all this shit about-”
“Just- just stop. You’re saying different things to different people, and I’m just supposed to trust you? And what, was I just going to be a secret? Look, I have to go,” he turned around to keep walking but you took his hand.
“I was going to tell them Robby, I like you so much and please, I’ll fix it. I’ll talk to them and-”
He cut your frantic rambling off again, “Y/N... I like you too alright? And I get it. I get wanting to fit in with your friends, even if you don’t agree with them. I learned from it myself. I just need time to think about all of it.” He sighed and ran his hands through his hair.
You nodded in understanding, but your heart was hurting. “I’m sorry,” you said one last time before he took off on his skateboard.
a/n: why was that sm longer than i planned... also sorry for any mistakes im too lazy to edit. there probably won’t be a part 2 because the song doesn’t have a happy ending lol hope u enjoyed!!!!
#cobra kai#cobra kai imagine#cobra kai x reader#cobrakai#robbykeene#Robby cobra kai#Robby Keene x reader#Robby Keene imagine#Robby Keene
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Perks of the Job
(A/N) One unfortunate part of my immortality is that when I get a thought of something I simply cannot live on without expelling it from my body into the ether. happy late valentines day sorry i work at a candy store uwu so anyway this is long and so i might be able to break it up into 3 or 4 good size parts, if you would like to endure some carol smut with me. Most of u want natasha smut and that’s also coming soon but i am very sleepy bc i forgot i already ate those melatonin gummies so i ate more and then i forgot i ate those so i ate two more and anyway we’re gonna see what happens i guess (future me spoiler alert: bad idea. tasty gummies tho)
Rating: Explicit (18+ holy shit i cannot stress this enough)
Warnings: porn without plot basically; smut; slight daddy kink; ceo carol danvers au; also tony stark shits on dongal trumpet (not literally i just realized how bad that seems after everything else. i meant verbally); oral (reader receiving); Carol being a cocky little shit; ooc wanda probably
Pairing: CEO!Carol Danvers x F!Stark!Reader
Word Count: 5,682
Synopsis: You’re expected to take the mantle as CEO of Stark Industries, being not only the daughter of Tony himself, but also one of the top employees. You work your ass off all day for the company, and how does your father repay you? By cutting off your bank accounts, to ‘teach you a lesson’, and practically giving you away to the CEO of a rival company until a proper deal is made between the two. Out of your annoyance blooms a scandalous affair.
From the moment you stormed out of the elevator, the atmosphere of the otherwise bustling office changed drastically. There’s a lull in conversation, bodies tensing as all eyes are on you. You don’t break your furious stride to your father’s office, bursting through the door viciously.
“What the hell, dad?!”
Tony Stark, a smart man by all means but far from a patient one, looks up with a calm expression that only serves to fuel your anger. “Ah, you’re later than I’d thought you’d be.”
“I had to take a bus. A. Bus.” You shudder at the memory. “Do you have any idea what the New York Public Transportation System is like-”
“That’s exactly,” he leans back, propping his feet on his desk with that goddamn smirk of his, “what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“What, Stark Industries moves from insane technology to insane public transport?” You scoff, sitting down with a huff in the chair across from him. “That requires putting my accounts on hold?!”
“No. You are spoiled.”
You gape at him. “I went to college-”
“To get a job here, and, one day, run the place. I know.” He clears his throat, pulling his feet down so that he can stand up. “Your brain isn’t what I’m disappointed in.” What the fuck is happening? “It’s your attitude.”
“You raised me-”
“Exactly. That’s exactly my point.” He sighs, looking out at the New York skyline. “You’re smart, but you’re stubborn. Like me. You can’t keep focusing on partying, you have to actually work for my position. Start pulling your weight.”
“‘Pulling my weight’? I just landed us a deal with-”
“Small investors that only say yes because you’re an attractive young lady.”
You groan in disgust. “Gross, dad-”
“But you rely on my wealth and name to get what you want, and that- we can’t do that. That’s not what you’re going to turn out like.”
You sink into the chair defeatedly. “You’ve been watching The Apprentice, haven’t you?”
“I just goddamn hate Trump so much, sweetie,” he hums, looking back at you with a smile. “I want what’s best for you. So, I’m giving you a real challenge this time.”
This piques your interest. You sit up once again. “A real challenge?”
He nods, claps his hands together. “You’re gonna get us a partnership with Vers Industries.”
“Your… leading rival in aircraft designs?” Your eyebrows pinch inward. “I thought you hated their ‘cocky, bull-headed’ CEO?”
“I don’t hate her,” he clears his throat. “She just has a tendency to elicit strong feelings of dislike from deep within my soul, on occasion.”
“Because she calls you out.”
“Because- no, because she’s young money and I’m-”
“An old man?”
“Keep this up and I’ll keep your accounts turned off,” he warns. You chuckle, but stay quiet. “She keeps refusing my offers, so, I’m sending you to persuade her.”
You stare at him blankly for a long, long moment, letting the pieces click into place. “What’s the catch?”
“Catch? There’s no catch!”
“That sounds suspiciously like there’s a catch.”
“Well, part of the offer is having a personal Stark Industries rep to assist in a few daily-”
“You’re whoring me out?!” It comes out louder than intended.
Your father cringes. “No! Not like that! Jesus, kid,” he runs his hands through his hair and pauses. “Well, she’s not exactly straight, but-”
Another groan escapes you. “You’re gonna marry me off like this is Game of Thrones.”
“You’re goddamn dramatic, you know that?”
“Gee, wonder where I get it from.”
Tony exhales slowly. “Well, anyway, I think with you at the helm, you might learn a bit of responsibility for goddamn once. Earn your pay.”
You roll your eyes. “And get us a good, lasting partnership.”
He grins. “You’ll do it?”
“You act as though I’ve got a choice.”
He claps his hands and lets out a ‘whoop!’
You really hate when he tries to prove a point.
- - - -
Vers Industries’ office feels like a world away from your father’s. While your father favors eccentricity and extravagance over comfort, Vers Industries seems to manage the combination well. There are a few interesting decorations that one could label as ‘questionable’ in terms of art, but there’s also a homely feeling in the wooden walls and plush carpets. Even the furniture is bearable in the reception area.
It’s kind of annoying how friendly everyone is. You’re sure everyone is equally nice at Stark Industries, but most of the employees there sort of fear you for your ‘hotheaded tendencies’ and ‘temper’. At least, that’s what HR says.
Whatever.
“Ms. Danvers will see you now,” the receptionist is a sweet looking boy, probably fresh out of high school, who’s wearing a smile that’s deceptively kind.
You nod curtly, standing and following him to the CEO’s office. You aren’t sure what you’re expecting, but you’re somewhat pleasantly surprised by the interior of the office. It’s a bit chaotic - Danvers must not be the neatest person, but there appears to be some sort of order to everything. The chairs are a deep maroon, save for the navy blue of the chair in which a blonde sits confidently behind a black, shiny desk.
You approach with a sway to your hips, holding your head high. Sure, you’ve played the seduction game plenty of times - it was usually easy, seeing as men are pigs - but you’ve never pulled this on a woman. At least, not successfully for work. (There have been some terrifying mishaps.) You’re a bit hesitant, because Danvers is watching you with burning intent as you hold your hand out in greeting.
She stands, slowly, and shakes your hand. “So you’re the infamous (Y/N) Stark.”
“You’ve heard of me?” You blink in surprise, dropping your hand and sitting primly in one of the plush maroon chairs across from her.
“Everyone’s heard of Stark’s troublesome little girl.” Danvers returns to her seat as well, placing her hands overtop her desk and folding them. “You aren’t exactly the type to stay out of the spotlight.”
“Well,” you clear your throat, blushing despite yourself. “Stark Industries is always headline news.”
“And there it is,” she grins easily, “the segway into why you’re here.”
You squirm a little under her gaze. It’s not menacing or uncomfortable, exactly, but something about her has you feeling on edge. Like you’re waiting for something to happen in some odd, thrilling way. “Mr. Stark has asked you to reconsider his offer,” you search your bag for the file your father had given you and slide it across the desk. “And has added a few small benefits for your sake.”
Danvers arches an eyebrow before opening the file, reading it in silence before looking back at you with a smirk. “He’s offering you to be my personal assistant?”
“He’s offering me as a repres- wait, what?” You wheeze.
“For eight months, while we discuss the terms of our agreement.” Danvers chuckles at your reaction. “I take it you were not aware of this?”
“He definitely did not word it that way,” you say through gritted teeth, forcing your features back into a smile. Your nails are digging into your palms. “But, yes, I will be… your personal… assistant… for eight months.”
Eight months around this woman. Probably constantly. You can’t even gather your thoughts right now and it’s barely been ten minutes!
“Well, that is a lovely offer.” She closes the file. “But I’m not interested in partnering with a man who would use an employee-”
“Before you finish that sentence,” you interrupt, “the deal wouldn’t be finalized for eight months. Eight months for you to reconsider.”
She hums, examining you closely. You try not to squirm again, trying hard to match her gaze without flinching. It’s surprisingly difficult; she really shouldn’t be so intimidating. “Okay.”
You release a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding when she looks down at the file. “Really? Just like that?”
“Something about making a rich white guy’s daughter be at my beck and call is pleasing to me.” She remarks, making your mind go to several places unrelated to work. “And your daddy must know my weaknesses, sending a cute thing like you to sweet-talk me.”
Daddy. Daddy. Oh Jesus what was she talking about? “My- oh.” You force an awkward laugh, standing up abruptly. “Yeah- he’s, y’know,” you point to your own head stupidly, “a genius. Stark trait, and all.”
“Uh-huh,” Danvers’ smirk widens.
“Thank you, Ms. Danvers, my father will contact you about- about the- arrangement, and I suppose I’ll be working for you soon.”
“You can call me Carol,” the blonde says as you back away towards the door.
“Right. I’ll- ah, sorry, I just- have important things to… I’ve gotta gay. Go. I’ve gotta go.” Your cheeks are burning by the time you slip away, ignoring Carol’s laughter from within the office.
What the hell am I getting myself into?
- - - -
“-tell me that I’d be her personal assistant! I looked like an idiot in there!” You’ve been yelling at your father for the better part of fifteen minutes. The employees outside of the office have avoided the door like the plague.
“But you got the deal, didn’t you?” Tony’s grinning proudly, like you’ve won the lottery in his name.
“Well, kind of. I said the eight months I’d be working for her would be a trial period, that she could tap out whenever she wanted.”
“You what-”
“You literally gave me away like some common employee, I think I have some leeway here.”
The door opens, giving both of you pause as your father’s fiance, Pepper, struts in. “I take it you found out?”
You roll your eyes. “Thanks for the heads-up, stepmonster.”
She scoffs. “As if I’d risk you breaking another computer.”
“She got the deal, though,” your dad offers with a grin.
“She could change her mind,” you point out.
“She won’t.” His grin only widens. “Because you’ll be there the whole way telling her how great Stark Industries is.”
“So this is corporate espionage?”
“No, it’s corporate… encouragement.”
“I don’t know,” you sigh, “she’s a bit… intimidating.”
Pepper looks at you with a smirk. “She’s a bit of a womanizer, I hear.”
You blush. “I- well, I don’t know about that.”
“That could be-” Tony starts, but stops as soon as Pepper gives him a side-eye. “Well, who knows? We’ll have to invite her to our Charity Gala next week. Keep up appearances. Make sure the press is there, catch her interacting with you, (Y/N) and myself, and boom.” He snaps his fingers. “We got a deal!”
“Your confidence is stifling,” you grumble.
Pepper laughs lightly. “It won’t be so bad. She’s nice to her employees, at least,” she adds with a sidelong glare towards your dad.
Tony doesn’t respond. Instead, he launches into what he considers to be the best gameplan to keep Carol on your team. You zone out more than once, admittedly, your mind preoccupied with the blonde that’s going to be your boss for the next eight months. Was she always so… is it considered flirting if it’s just stupid banter that flusters you? Maybe you’re overthinking this. She was obviously just teasing you because you’re the spoiled rich kid and she started her own company.
Yeah, that’s gotta be it.
(Right?)
- - - -
It took you an embarrassingly long time to get ready this morning. You’d woken up early because you couldn’t sleep, and spent hours thinking of what to wear, how to look, how to act. You’re twisted in knots overthinking everything about Carol Danvers.
Now, you’re fidgeting in Carol’s office as she lists off the duties she expects you to perform outside of the ones involving the partnership.
You’ve zoned in and out because she keeps moving around, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her tie loosened around her neck. She looks, by all means, casual as if you were talking about the weather. Her intense gaze occasionally finds yours, immediately making you lose focus each and every time.
After a while, she sighs, tapping her desk absentmindedly. “... but, you aren’t listening to a word I’m saying, are you?”
“Uh,” you blink rapidly, snapping back to the matter at hand. “The, um- the Gala. You wanted to go together.”
A cocky smirk pulls at the edges of her lips. “It’ll be good press coverage, at least.”
“That’s what my dad says.”
“And do you always do what daddy says?” She asks it like it’s a challenge, making you lose your breath momentarily.
“I-I do what’s best for the company.” You sputter dumbly, heat rising to your cheeks. God, nobody has ever flustered you this much before. It makes you sort of angry, how easily she’s able to pull these emotions out of you.
She hums thoughtfully, resting her chin on her palm. “That isn’t what I asked.”
Your mouth feels incredibly dry, all moisture in your body apparently deciding to relocate further south. “I do whatever I want, especially when our interests align.”
Carol throws her head back in a delighted laugh. “What a cute, well-practiced line. Have you used it in interviews?”
You let out a huff of annoyance. “It isn’t a ‘line’, it’s the truth.”
“Sure thing, princess.”
Feeling a little bold, you counter, “You sure seem to enjoy rubbing in the fact that I-”
“Had the world handed to you on a silver platter wrapped in a trust fund ribbon?”
“I-”
“I worked my way from the bottom to the top,” she straightens her back, squares her shoulders in a proud way. “I had nothing, until I got to where I am. You got a throne right next to daddy, an heiress who doesn’t understand the value of a dollar.”
Your mouth falls open in shock. Nobody has EVER talked to you like that. It has you reeling for a long moment. Your stupid thoughts are racing so much, so scrambled, that the only thing you manage to spit out is: “Can you- stop calling him my daddy?”
Carol’s smirk widens. “Why, is that position filled by someone else?”
“No!” You avert your gaze stubbornly. “It’s just- it’s- he’s just my dad. And for your information, I’ve worked damn hard, too. Some of us don’t flaunt our success.”
“You’re right, some only flaunt their daddy’s-”
“Jesus you’re incorrigible.”
“There’s that Ivy League vocabulary.” Carol bites her lip, an action you’re unabashedly drawn to. “Starting today, cutie, you’re going to be working real hard.”
For some reason, the way she says that makes your legs feel weak. You’re pretty certain this job is going to kill you before the eight months are up.
- - - -
Carol was not joking when she said you’d be working harder. You spend most of your first days doing bitch work you remember forcing others to do at your father’s company, and the irony of it doesn’t escape you. You almost wonder if she and Tony are in kahoots, trying to torment you out of your ‘trust fund baby’ ways.
She’s also relentless in her teasing. She’d give your father a run for his money when he first hired Pepper. She just knows your weaknesses, like it’s an instinct embedded deep in her brain, and exploits them so easily that, by the time the day is over, you go home all hot and bothered and flustered beyond belief.
The worst of it happens today.
You were neck-deep in your usual banter with the blonde, firing back as much as you could when Carol is wearing a short-sleeved button-up that beyond proves what you’d assumed before about her being absolutely ripped.
Your thoughts keep trailing off to other worlds where she’s using those muscles to throttle you into the next century, your comebacks becoming less and less coherent the more Carol sorts through her paperwork, deft fingers becoming your sole focus after a few pathetic minutes.
Finally, she stops and says your name. You snap out of your trance to glare at her.
“You’re pretty obvious, you know,” she says.
“Obvious?” You repeat, arching an eyebrow challengingly.
“Y’know, checking me out.” Carol leans back in her chair, causing it to squeak slightly. You cringe at the sound and the accusation.
“How narcissistic of you to believe I’m checking you out.”
“So, you weren’t just thinking about me?”
“Bold to assume I think about you at all.”
“It’s not so bold when you’re undressing me with your eyes.”
“I wasn’t undressing.” You scoff, rolling your eyes to avoid her gaze. Not a total lie. She had a tie on.
“But you admit you were thinking of me?” She grins cockily.
“You seem to want me to think of you,” you note skeptically.
To your amazement, Carol is the one who’s bashful. She clears her throat, looking away for a moment. “I enjoy being thought of.”
Interesting.
“Really?” You take on a tone you’ve used on plenty of potential clients before, planting your elbows on her desk and leaning forward slightly. Finally, a chance to turn the tables. Carol’s eyes dart downard before meeting yours again. “Well, Ms. Danvers, I can assure you, I think of you often.”
Her eyes darken considerably, lips parting to say something probably irritating, but there’s a knock at the door that interrupts her. You exhale softly, standing with forcibly relaxed shoulders to greet Peter - the sweet receptionist boy.
A plan slowly begins to piece together in your mind. You’re far from the most patient person, much like your father, but you surprise yourself sometimes when you’re really focused on something you want. It’s about time the odd game of cat-and-mouse you and Carol have been playing turns in your favor.
- - - -
“Jesus- shit,” Wanda exclaims over Facetime, gaping at your choice of attire for the Gala.
“A good pick, I take it?” You ask with a chuckle, examining yourself in the mirror. The dress is long and flowing, a slit on your left leg up to your thigh and a dangerously low neckline. It’s definitely way too showy for any average charity event, but, then again, most people equated you with being a bit over-the-top much like your father.
That being said, you’ve outdone yourself this time.
“I thought you said you weren’t trying to fuck your new boss?”
“I’m not, I’m trying to make her so flustered she stops teasing me for the rest of the time we work together.” You huff.
Wanda snorts. “It’s a top-bottom thing. She’s clearly caught onto the fact that you’re a pillow princess.”
“I will eat your bones,” you warn, to which she cackles.
“You’re so non-threatening, I can’t take you seriously.” She laughs. “Honestly, though, (Y/N). You’ll drive her crazy in that dress, and you don’t exactly have the best willpower.”
“I have loads of willpower.” You cross your arms defiantly. “Oodles of it. What, you think I’m just gonna give in the moment she tries to drag me away? IF she’s brave enough to risk getting caught fucking Stark Industries’ CEO’s daughter at their own charity event?”
“Yes. Yes I do.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.”
- - - -
Fifty two minutes and twenty seconds.
That’s how long it takes for you to cave. Honestly, it’s probably more than Wanda would have guessed, but not by enough that you can boast about it.
Though you came to the Gala with Carol, you spent the first half hour chatting up as many women as possible. Some of it flirtatious, most of it just friendly as you knew most of the guests, but Carol’s eyes were on you all the while. Then, you started butting into her conversations - not rudely, of course, but staying by the side of your ‘date’ and politely interjecting just enough to remind her that, here you are, being the perfect little assistant.
Flirting with the guys is what does it, you think. You were mostly doing it to coerce them into donating more money, but the reaction you received from Carol was much, much better. She came up behind you with a single dangerous purr, “Where’s your office?”
And, well, that was just about it for you.
Carol drags her tongue over your clit slowly, teasingly. “I don’t like wasting my time, princess.”
She has you on your own desk, your panties thrown God knows where and her head right between your thighs. One of her hands draws mindless, teasing patterns into your thigh, making you shiver in more ways than one. Your poor dress had been bunched up so aggressively, you think you heard a tear.
You let out a wanton moan as Carol prods your entrance with her fingers. “Yet you love wasting mine.”
She enters you roughly, curling her fingers to press on a spot that makes another whimper spill from your lips. “Mm, I think we should put that mouth of yours to good use.” She withdraws her fingers, offering them to you with a daring smirk. “C’mon, don’t be shy. You’ve been teasing me all night.”
You narrow your eyes before engulfing her fingers in your mouth, smoothing your tongue over them to lap at the juices she’d gathered. A quiet noise escapes her, something like a moan, before her lips wrap around your clit, sucking hard enough for your hips to buck.
She withdraws her fingers, slipping them back inside of you with embarrassing ease. “So wet for me,” she purrs, the vibration making you whimper. “And so, so good.” Her tongue runs over your clit, around your entrance. “I love the way you taste.”
“Carol-” your whine of her name becomes a silent cry of pleasure when her fingers start moving, finding that spot inside of you and drawing inhuman noises out of your throat.
“That’s it, baby,” Carol hums, “say my name.”
One of your hands curls into blonde locks, the other clutching at your desk so hard your knuckles are white. The place hasn’t been used since you went to work with Carol, so it was pretty much still a mess, but most of the objects you’d once had on top of your desk had either been tossed aside by Carol or are dangerously close to toppling over on their own.
“God- fuck, Carol,” you shudder, struggling to keep your breathing even as she sucks insistantly on your sensitive bundle of nerves.
She’s eating you out like it’s a game for her; one she’ll always win, her tongue occasionally replacing her fingers to drive you just on the precipice of a climax before stopping and watching you writhe and squirm.
“You look so pretty, all desperate for me,” Carol croons. “You’d look even prettier begging for me.”
“In- your- dreams- Danvers-” you rasp out between harsh breaths. Your whole body is shaking, caked in sweat as you struggle to breathe.
This is the least amount of control you’ve ever had in any situation. It’s alarming how willing you are to give into Carol, as if this were simply always meant to happen. It feels so fucking good, you can’t believe you didn’t just jump her bones the second you walked into her office. How can sex with Carol feel like the absolute best sex in your fucking life?
“Often, actually,” she replaces her fingers with her tongue again, tasting you in a lazy swipe of the muscle. You whimper brokenly, making her breathe a laugh against you. “All you have to do is beg, baby.”
“Carol-” you growl “-the-the Gala-”
“Right, the Gala,” Carol purrs in a mocking tone, biting at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh and causing you to squeak. “I wonder what the odds are of a guest exploring Stark Industries?” You shudder at the idea, though not out of repulsion. Carol grins against you. “What would daddy say about his sweet little girl fraternizing with his business partner?”
“What happened to ‘troublesome’?” You groan when she adds a third finger.
“You aren’t so troublesome when you’re begging me to let you cum,” she proves her point by circling your clit skillfully. “Which you are going to do.”
“And- I thought I said to stop calling him-” the word gets caught around a loud moan as Carol plunges further into you by moving back up your body and using her hips for momentum.
“Daddy?” She asks teasingly in your ear, pulling your lobe between her lips with her teeth.
You let out a harsh breath, feeling yourself flutter around her fingers. Carol’s mouth falls to your neck to place a very, very obvious mark that you’ll never be able to hide. When she pulls back, her lips find yours in a searing kiss.
It’s the first time you’ve kissed her for this entire escapade, and it’s nearly enough to make you cum right then and there. She keeps you on that edge though, going slow and deep enough to keep you making quiet noises of frustration into her mouth.
“All you have to do,” Carol murmurs against your lips, “is beg for me, babygirl, and you can cum.”
Your eyes are brimming with tears, it’s so difficult to articulate or think. You want to scream, but the idea of being caught is terrifying. Your resolve crumbles to dust in the wind when Carol finds a spot deep inside of you that draws an inhuman noise from your throat.
“P-please,” you whisper.
“What was that?” Carol presses harder into you.
“P-please, let me cum,” you whine pathetically. “Please, Carol, please, I need- I need to come so badly. I’ll do anything! Please, d-” you’re cut off when Carol smooths over your clit once more, throwing you right off the edge and into an abyss of pleasure you’ve never experienced before.
Your throat is raw with the noises she pulls from you, body numb and tingly as it twitches and bucks beneath hers.
“Good girl,” she says softly in your ear as you slowly come down from the high. “You did so good, baby.”
You slump into her, all of your muscles becoming jelly as she slowly pulls her fingers out and sucks obscenely on them. Carol, thankfully, keeps you steady while pressing gentle kisses against your neck and smoothing back your hair.
When you can sort of feel your legs again, you pull back slightly from her. “I’d return the favor, but- I think you broke my body.”
“Don’t worry about it, princess,” Carol winks, “you can return the favor next time.”
“Next time?”
“You think I’m not gonna fuck Tony Stark’s daughter more than once?” She scoffs, then pauses. “Uh, unless you don’t want to?”
“No, I want to.” You say a little too quickly. Her smirk is back, cocky as ever. Before she can say anything, you add, “Get that shit-eating smirk off your face, Danvers.”
“Sorry, sorry,” she doesn’t, though, “but I can’t get the thought of you screaming my name out of my head.”
“Save it for another day, stud,” you snort. “I seriously don’t know if I can stand right now.”
“Wait ‘til I show you my toys.” She fixes her tie, which, at some point, you’d loosened so that you could shove the collar aside and press heated kisses along her neck.
“Is this included in my pay?” You smooth down the front of your dress, hoping to all high hell that nobody will see that Carol’s torn the side up a bit higher.
“I’d say ask your old man, but,” her smirk only widens, “I don’t recommend it.”
She helps you off the desk, keeping you from toppling over as your body slowly adjusts to not getting your brains fucked out. She offers you your panties, but honestly they’re probably ruined beyond repair.
“We can’t just throw them out,” you huff, realizing that not only were they completely ruined, but they’d also definitely show, with how high the slit in your dress is now. “And this dress was expensive!”
“Aw, did daddy buy it for you?”
“How ‘bout daddy repairs the damn Versace?”
“So I’m daddy now?”
You push Carol’s shoulder with a scoff. “Shut up, Danvers.”
“No, no, I’m genuinely curious now,” she advances quickly, mercilessly, until you’re pressed against the desk again. Her arm slides around your waist, her free hand moving to brush your hair behind your ear. “Do you, (Y/N) Stark, have a daddy kink?”
“Guess you’ll have to find out next time,” you respond huskily.
Carol hums, pressing a lasting kiss to your cheek. “That’s my good girl.”
Wanda is gonna be so goddamn smug.
The rest of the Gala isn’t nearly as eventful. Carol keeps her half-lidded gaze on you the whole time, a proud sort of look in her eyes when she sees the tear in your dress. While you’d love to leave and take care of the fact that you’re still soaked and you have no underwear, it’s simply not plausible for at least another forty minutes.
At last, Carol offers to drive you home and you gratefully accept. The ride is surprisingly easy, not awkward at all. No weird small-talk. Just companionable silence or the occasional friendly jab, like nothing had happened at all.
“Nice place,” the blonde remarks, pulling up to the massive structure after passing the security check.
“My dad got it for me after I graduated-” you stop yourself as soon as you see the stupid grin on Carol’s face. “What the hell is that look for?”
“You didn’t even buy your own first apartment?”
You roll your eyes, avoiding that dumb look in her eyes. “I get it, I get it. I’m spoiled. Geez, between you and my dad I’m basically reminded of it everyday.”
“Tony? Reminding you that you’re a trustfund baby?” Carol snorts, parking her car.
“The hypocrisy, I know,” you roll your eyes. “He cut me off ‘til I can prove myself to him or whatever.”
“Wait, like, your bank accounts?”
“Yup.”
Carol laughs, to your complete and utter shock. She’s cackling, practically. She even makes a show of wiping an invisible tear from her eye. “That’s great. Maybe I was wrong about him.”
“Oh, fuck you,” you huff. “I had to take a bus the other day. Unbelievable.”
This only makes her laugh harder. She’s grinning at you, eyes sparkling with mirth. “You’re kinda cute when you talk about normal people things.”
“I-” you gape at her. “I am not-” you cross your arms stubbornly. “I’m not cute. I’m a badass, sexy woman, dammit.”
“Yeah,” Carol leans in to whisper, “but you’re also adorable,” before blowing a raspberry on your cheek.
You yelp, but can’t contain your laughter once Carol’s starts. This is a different side to her that you often saw with some of her personal friends (at least, the few that you’ve seen). You like when it’s directed at you, for whatever reason.
“You’re the worst,” you mutter once your laughter dies down.
“Not what you were saying earlier, princess,” she winks.
You open the car door with a scoff. “Now who’s being cute?”
“You think I’m cute?” She bats her eyelashes.
Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head. “See you Monday, Boss.”
“I believe we agreed on, ‘Dad-” she doesn’t get a chance to finish before you close the door. You swear you hear her laughing, even as you flip her the bird.
Sex with Carol is one thing, but whatever the hell that was? That’s far more dangerous to fall into.
- - - -
“I fucking knew it.” Wanda announces as she, quite rudely, bursts into your loft the following morning. You look up from the television sleepily, stifling a yawn as your best friend approaches. “I knew you fucked.”
“You have no proof,” you respond flatly, your voice cracking. Yeah, you woke up without a voice. Go figure.
“Oh really?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “So, you’re clearly on that post-great-sex-buzz that you get because otherwise you’d be tearing my head off for not knocking. You haven’t even gotten up since I walked in. And,” she leans down, examining you so closely you have to avoid her gaze. “Is that a hickey on your neck?”
Your hand flies up to the spot under scrutiny, blushing furiously. “Okay, okay, fine! I admit it! I’m guilty!”
“I knew it!” She repeats, pumping her fist in the air victoriously before plopping down next to you. “So. What was it like?”
“I don’t have a voice, I can’t feel my legs, and I feel like my third eye opened.”
“Wow.” Wanda whistles. “That good?”
“Jesus Christ, Wanda, I’m a walking jellyfish right now.”
She laughs heartily. “So, are you gonna… y’know, have some kinky office-hours sex?”
You nearly choke. “I- fuck, I don’t know! I think at this point I’m just going with the flow.”
“Because you’re a bottom.”
“Because, technically, she’s my boss and my dad’s business partner.”
“So, yes, kinky office sex.”
“You act like we didn’t fuck in my office.”
“You fucked in your office?!” The dark haired girl gasps. “You dirty little devil! Doesn’t your dad usually go to his in the middle of those events to sneak the hard stuff?”
“I want to make a joke so badly, but I won’t,” you clear your throat. “He does, usually, yes.”
“How do you know he didn’t catch you?”
“Like my dad wouldn’t be up my ass about it if he did.” You roll your eyes. “Tony Stark is a gossiping teenage girl on his best days.”
She hums, nodding her head once. “You have a point there.”
“But, uh, there will be a next time. Carol sort of made it a point that there would be, at least.”
“That’s so exciting! Wow, secret office sex with daddy’s business partner-”
“Why the hell does everyone keep fucking calling him my daddy?!”
“Oh, sorry, is that what you’re calling Carol now?”
“You know, sometimes, I really want to punch you in the face.”
“But you won’t, because you’re a jellyfish and you love me.”
“Mmhm.”
- - - -
♡ Tags! @nobody13 ♡ @fireflyglass ♡ @swords-are-cool ♡ @artapdarkstr ♡ @pasta-bandit ♡
#i have a few more pages of#of this entire trash piece#this is just a small portion really#um#the rest of it is REAL kinky shit it's just#it's trash trash#i need jesus#sorry i didn't post revelations or vampire nat fic#im just v picky about those and haven't done the proper editing for them yet#ok when i tell u this is a struggle#it's def bc of the sleepy gummies but i sear im visualizing as im editing so hard#it makes it so difficulta ;slkdf#ok FINALLY#god i hope i did this ok#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff imagine#wlw imagine#natasha romanoff x reader imagine#natasha romanoff#nobody13#fireflyglass#swords-are-cool#artapdarkstr#pasta-bandit
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Happy New Year
WARNING: Fluff, friendly, little bit of alcohol, angst, a bit of bullying
Pairing: Pedro Pascal x You (Reader)
Wordcount: 1.6K
Note: Not betad, all mistakes are my own.
This was a request by anon:
"heyy could u write a os about reader and pedro meeting each other at a mutual friend's party and they just hit it off??"
I'm so bad at fluffy writing because 'Im such a slut
I hope you like it.
I'm not gonna lie, I actually struggled writing this 😭
Extra note: Y/F/N = Your friend's name
DISCLAIMER: the number is fake! I got it off a fake number site!!
Masterlist
You knew your friend was popular with a lot of people, but when you were invited to their New Year’s Eve party, you had no idea there would be so many and you barely recognised any of them. You guessed some of the guests were your friend’s partner’s, but it didn’t really make a difference to you now that you were standing alone on the side-line with a drink in hand.
You contemplated to just leave and go back to your original plan to celebrate in front of your TV with pyjamas on, it wasn’t as if you hadn’t done it before, but it was nice to see your friends again, at least some of them.
While contemplating what to do next, you absentmindedly plucked one and one chip from the bowl next to you, your eyes glossing over the mingling people around. Your thoughts drifted over to how your next year would be like, what goals you would set for yourself. It had been a slow year and you were truly ready for a fresh start.
In the corner of your eye, you noticed a small group of people approaching you. You took a step to the side, getting out of the way of the snack table. You turned your head away and looked at the fairy lights slinging across the walls.
“Y/N?”
The voice made you snap your head to the source, meeting a pair of curious baby blue eyes. You gulped as ice prickled in your veins. Fuck…
“Oh my god, it is you.” She giggled and turned to glance at the three other people standing with her. “Haven’t seen you since high school.” Your eyes dragged along her beautiful features and her silver cocktail dress. “Do you remember us?”
“How could I ever forget?” You mumbled with your head hanging low, dread washing over you as old memories hit you left and right and all you wanted to do was crawl away to the safety of your bed.
“I’ll never forget that time you got your period in the middle of the class, your seat was gushing red.” The woman cackled and you cringed inward at the memory. You had to go home that day and didn’t return to school until a week later once your period was done. “Or that time you got gum stuck in your hair.”
You chewed on your lip as you looked up at her, a hint of anger lingering at the back of your throat. “That was because of you.” You pointed out; your fingers tightened the grip around your glass.
The woman took a step closer to you with a smirk playing on her lips. “Mmm, and it was hilarious. You truly rocked your new hairstyle after that.” She grasped at your hair. “You should have kept it short.” She chuckled, lightly tugging at your hair before taking a step back.
You wanted so badly to snap back at her for what she put you through. Years of humiliation you had fought to suppress resurfaced as you were facing her for the first time since those horrible years.
She folded her arms and leaned her weight to one side. “Let me take a guess, you’re here alone? I wouldn’t be surprised, someone like you are born to be lonely.”
You met her cocky gaze and furrowed your brows. That was the last straw for you and you inhaled sharply, ready to bark out at her.
“There you are.”
Everyone snapped their head to the warm and vibrant voice to your right.
“I’ve been looking all over for you.” You met the man’s gaze, warm dark eyes that radiated kindness. He stepped right up to you and pulled you in by the waist with a caring smile. “We need to get outside if we’re to catch the fireworks.”
You could feel the warmth radiate from him and the smell of dark spice and light citrus hit your senses and you inhaled deeply. You gaped at him, not sure as to what to say or do.
“If you’ll excuse us, ladies.” Shifting his hold to your hand, he led you away from them and towards the garden. You barely kept up with his long and confident strides through the crowds of people until you finally stood outside under the clear night sky.
The air was crisp and fresh, feeling grateful for getting out from the cramped and uncomfortable situation, you looked up at him with a grateful smile. “Thank you.” You breathed out.
“And I thought we were all grown-ups here.” He mumbled to himself as he gave you a once over. “You okay?”
You nodded.
“I’m sorry for just marching in there, but I couldn’t help but overhear how rudely they spoke to you.”
You cleared your throat, feeling the fuming heat cool off of you. “Actually, I’m grateful you did. I almost snapped at them, which would probably turn into a whole scene.” You rubbed the back of your neck uncomfortably.
He nodded understandably. “That would probably turn a few heads.” He chuckled and took a sip from his beer. He held out his hand to you. “Pedro.”
You took it with a smile on your lips. “No, that’s not my name.” You said with a serious tone.
“N-no I mean…” He noticed your smile had twisted into a playful smirk and he rolled his eyes teasingly.
“I’m Y/N.” You chuckled and let go of his hand, licking your lower lip in the process.
“So that’s how it is, huh?”
You nodded, proud of your little joke. “That’s how it is.” You took a sip from your glass. “You know what, I think you would look great in a hat.” You giggled, the thought had popped so randomly into your head, and usually you would have kept it to yourself, but the alcohol was already making you a bit smug.
His eyebrows shot up in amusement. “A hat? What kind of hat?”
“I dunno, just a hat.”
You both chuckled at the random thought. He nodded with a smirk playing on his plump lips. “A hat it is then.”
You cleared your throat, shaking off the thought of him reminding you of someone. “So, are you ready for the new year?”
“Yeah, ready for a new year with new adventures and new projects. And you?”
You shifted your weight to one side. God yes! “Pretty much, yeah. It’s been a long year, so ready to put it behind and get a new start. At least that’s what it feels like – a new start.” You smiled “I definitely won’t waste away in my pyjamas at all.” You added sarcastically.
He chuckled. “You know what, that sounds pretty nice. It also sounds like the plans I initially had for New Year this year.”
You snorted at his honesty. “Mine too.” You admitted with a chortle as you looked around at the other unfamiliar faces glancing at you.
“How do you know these people?” He asked, snapping your attention back at him. You couldn’t shake off the feeling of having seen this man before.
“Y/F/N and I have known each other since we were like three years old.” You replied. “And you?”
“Ah, Y/F/N is also a friend of mine. We met like - … - four years ago I think it is.” Your heart lightly fluttered at his furrowed brows as he thought about it. “Or is it three?” His eyes bounced to your gaze with a warm glow. “I can barely remember, time flies by so fast.”
“TEN. NINE. EIGHT.”
You both looked out on the growing crowd by your side, everyone facing away from you to look up at the clear night sky. You felt a smile grow on your lips as you realised it was soon to be a new year.
“FIVE. FOUR. THREE.”
They all chanted together as some fireworks flew up in the air and exploding, painting the black canvas with colours and sparks. You turned to look at Pedro beside you, who already had his gaze on you.
“ONE. HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Everyone shouted out in unison.
He held out his beer bottle and you clinked your glass to it. “Happy new year.” He smiled sincerely, filling you with warmth.
“Happy new year.” You both took a sip from your own drinks and held each other’s gaze. You both took half a step closer and he bent down, wrapping his arms around you and hugged you tightly.
“To new beginnings.” He whispered.
Safety washed over you as you stood in his embrace. His scent overrode your senses as you wrapped your own arms around him. He pulled you a little closer as you heard him inhale deeply.
“Pedro.” An unknown voice called out in the distance.
He let go of you slowly, as if he was reluctant to part from you and looked behind you.
“Alex.” He chimed and took a step to the side to greet what you thought was his friend. “Happy new year.”
“Happy new year, man. The others are looking for you, they wanna wish you a happy new year as well, come on.” Alex grabbed Pedro’s wrist and pulled him with him.
You chuckled at the sight as Pedro looked over his shoulder at you with an apologetic look. You waved at him, hiding the feeling of dismal and emptiness as you watched him leave. Pedro… You echoed his name in your head, when suddenly realisation washed over you. Pedro…! You gaped at yourself in disbelief. Holy shit!
~
You woke up with a throbbing headache, rolled over and grasped for your phone. You had a few texts from different family members, but what caught your attention was a text from an unknown number.
---------------------
202-555-0021
You’re right, I do look great in a hat.
Omg, ahaha
You're definitely rocking that hat!
How did you get your hands on a hat so quickly?
Have coffee with me and I’ll tell you the thrilling story of how I got it
Hahah sure. When?
El Barrista in an hour? I will be wearing my hat
See you in an hour
(Wanna be added to my tag list for Pedro Pascal and his characters? Let me know and I will happily add you)
@cynic-spirit, @lililolli, @notabotiswear, @sara-alonso, @blankmooon, @xoxo-callie, @mamacitapascal, @thewaythisis, @greeneyedblondie44
#Pedro pascal#Pedro Pascal x you#Pedro Pascal x reader#Pedro Pascal x Y/N#fluff#writing#fanfic#fanfiction#ao3#real person fiction#rpf
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snapchat :: c!tommy x reader
fluff / angst , platonic , gender neutral ! first request whoop whoop :D [check pinned for more info on requests]
synopsis: ‘what’s so bad about adding every person on snapchat?’ tommy thought. unknowingly, with all the other people he begins talking to during exile, one ends up being you; tubbo’s younger sibling. that is until you both visit tommy in logstedshire.
cw: i purposely misspell a few words for the texting part, i hope it’s still readable for y’all! and i haven’t actually used snapchat in years so let’s pretend i know what i’m doing :)
tommy smiled at his brand new phone
first thing he does? install snapchat and reddit
if he couldn’t talk to his best friends face to face anymore, at least he had people online to talk to, right?
tommy hoped from all his possessions dream would destroy, he could at least keep a phone
without much thought, tommy opened snapchat and began adding every account and messaging them the same obnoxious message
BE MY FRIEND . MESSAGE BACK NOW.
most people chose ignore tommy, not having a clue why he was messaging them
but as for you, when you had the notification that someone added you on snapchat and started aggressively messaging you, it made you curious
you read their user
“wife haver”?? huh???
instead of immediately blocking the person, you replied back
what?
not even less than a second later you get a reply back
OH MY GOD FINALLY SOMEONE
IM DYING
without context, you were more than confused
genuinely dying is very alarming but you shouldn’t text a random stranger your last words
huh?
THE GREEN BASTARD TOOK EVERYTHING AWAY FROM ME
YOURE ALL I HAVE LEFT
plwase helo
Help
where did tou go
Ohm hgod
hHello?
NOOOO NOT YOU TOO
PLEASR
you laughed at the person’s desperation and ignored the messages
if the stranger wasn’t going introduce themselves, you wouldn’t either
however, after a while you realized you had over 100 snapchat notifications within an hour of trying to ignore the person
however it was just jumbled up words and useless spam, nothing important
as if the stranger would said anything important to your concern anyway
do you ever shut up??
fuck you
a normal person wouldve taken offense by these messages but you found them quite amusing
it wasn’t like you had anything else better to do
and this acceptance was the start of your odd friendship with the stranger
you were still on edge because you had no idea who they were and their intentions but the anonymity was mutual nonetheless
if the desperate spamming “wife haver” isn’t going to formally tell you who they actually were, you weren’t going to risk exposing yourself first
but in the past few weeks, you and the person had normal conversations apart from the first day they messaged you
well as normal as you could’ve expected from someone named “wife haver”
they were the first to send an actual snap as well
that was when you found out the “wife haver” was an obnoxious boy that looked around your age, maybe a slightly older
he had sent you a photo of him holding a thumbs up and trying to smile when he was clearly upset
just got all my stuff exploded again, feeling good
you noticed his messy blonde hair and tattered clothes
what the hell happened to this guy?
part of you was confused, and the other was concerned
u good bro??
well
i don’t have anymore tools and materials if that’s anything
so no
this is shit
lmao it was probably deserved
FUCK YOU!!!!!
im kidding that’s sad
but like do u actually need stuff?
you contemplated sending your next message and thought of the consequences
but in the end, you were probably better off than him so if he did try to do something suspicious, you could easily just leave with your trident or defend yourself
i can bring some things over if you’d like
please oh my god it’s so boring here
where the hell do you even live???
it finally hit that you would be visiting this mysterious person
you never really had much to do during the day and he had nothing against your enchanted netherite armor when compared to his worn-out clothes
you were surprised that he was quick to be comfortable with you visiting him so continued to message the boy
if you live nearby i can just stop over and bring some spare diamond tools and armor if you’d like or smth
DIAMOND !,?’/:@!?:/-',(
ya sure lol
WTF
GOOD SHIT LAD! THANKS
WHEN DO U WANT TO VISIT???
his shock and excitement made you smile
maybe this wasn’t a bad idea
before replying, you quickly ran to your storage room you gather your spare items
instead of normally texting, you decided to take a picture of all the enchanted tools and armor and send back a snap
i’m down for tomorrow, turn on your snapmaps so i can come by ;D
he quickly replied back with handfuls of ‘holy shits’ and ‘YEAHS’
you couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear which caught the attention of your older brother who had just walked in to get blocks from the wall of chests
“ew why are you smiling at your phone like that?”
“oh shut up, tubbo”
“it’s weird”
you roll your eyes at him in a playful matter
“whatever! i’m gonna be out tomorrow to visit a friend, okay?”
“you have friends? wow, sounds like a first”
“you’re such a dick!!” you yell at him whilst trying to hold in your laughter
“oh yeah? go on, tell me about this friend of yours then. meeting strangers online, hm?”
“if you’re so concerned, you can come with if you’re not busy with whatever a president does. i promise they’re not some weirdo like you”
tubbo’s tone was sarcastic but he agreed then left you to your own thoughts
you were excited for tomorrow that you were restless in your bed when nighttime had came
somehow you managed to fall asleep from tiredness in the middle of the night
soon enough it was morning
before doing anything, you checked your phone and went through all your notifications
you then checked snapchat, browsing snapmaps and realized how far you had to travel
despite the long travel, you brought yourself up from your bed and gathered all the items you were going to bring
you stuffed a full set of enchanted diamond armor, tools, and over a stack of golden carrots all in your inventory
after finishing all your preparations, you searched for your older brother
with just a loud yell of his name he appeared almost instantly
“you ready to go, tubbo?”
“yep! you know where you’re going right?”
you scoffed at the question
“of course!”
and with that, the two of you traveled on foot until you reached the ocean
you had brought 2 boats with you knowing that you couldn’t imagine being in the same boat as your brother; it would’ve ended up in endless bickering
after a while of being at sea, tubbo started to become impatient
“what the hell! how far does this person live, y/n??”
“i dunno!”
you knew the general direction you were supposed to be going to after studying your snapmaps all morning but you couldn’t check how much farther it would take to get there; there was obviously no signal in the middle of the ocean
it felt like forever before you saw land in the horizon
suddenly you regained all the energy you have lost from rowing
“there!! that place with the white tent, i can barely see it”
“finally”
with the burst of energy, you got to land in no time
the moment you got off your boat, the blonde spotted the two of you and ran in your direction
once appearing nearly feet apart, he stared at your brother who also had the shocked expression
“TOMMY?”
“TUBBO?”
your brother had more of a confused expression whilst the other boy seemed a bit mad
maybe he was always mad considering the endless conversations you had with him ranting about some ‘green bastard’
but tubbo quickly got defensive, stepping in front of you
you didn’t understand how they knew each other beforehand, but at the same time you never caught up with tubbo’s friends either
you needed answers
“what’s going on?”
“y/n! you were messaging tommy this whole time? why didn’t you tell me?”
tubbo was clearly frustrated and a feeling of guilt washed over you
it didn’t click that you never exchanged names and admitting it did not seem believable
tubbo was in complete shock, trying to process everything that was happening
“WHAT?! AND HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN TALKING?”
you mumbled out your words
“a few weeks, i can’t remember”
“uh, yeah sorry” tommy had confirmed your statements. “i didn’t even know you had a sibling, tubbo! i actually didn’t know their name until now as well..”
“HUH??”
“but if i knew i was messaging a tub-ling, i wouldn’t have in the first place!”
“what the fuck tommy!!!”
“no, but how do you even know each other?” you had interrupt the two
tubbo had chosen his words carefully
“we’re... friends”
tommy had seemed upset at this
“tubbo....”
“no, don’t talk to me, tommy. you were exiled for a reason. y/n? give him the stuff you wanted to him and let’s go, this was a waste of time”
you were saddened but obliged, you didn’t want to anger your brother even more
“fuck you, tubbo! can’t believe this was how you visit me for the first time, i don’t even want your pity shit”
before you could react, tubbo led you to the back of his boat
he got in the front and quickly rowed away from the land you barely stayed on, leaving your boat behind on the shores
you looked back at tommy who already had left back to his tent
the boat ride was silent and full of sorrow until you arrived back at l’manburg
once you got home you immediately opened snapchat to message tommy
hey tommy i’m really sorry about today. i had no idea,,,
you thought he would’ve ignored your message but instead replied right after
but your heart sank at reading the message
it’s fine
i think it’s best we stop talking y/n
you didn’t want to lose a friend so quickly but after all the tension from today, you didn’t know how to come back from it
so instead of arguing you agreed, even if it wasn’t honest
yeah, me too
and that was the last message you sent to tommy
even though the whole situation was confusing from the start, it didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy the random conversations you had
the bizarre encounter was unforgettable
it made you even sadder when you realized the first time you two used each other’s names through text would also be the last
a/n: ngl, i didn’t think i would finish this on a kinda angsty ending but here we are! and grrr it’s 4am and i just wanted to finish this,, let’s hope there aren’t that many grammar mistakes LMAO anyway i hope y’all enjoyed <3
#tommyinnit x reader#tommyinnit x y/n#tommyinnit x you#tommyinnit imagine#tommyinnit fanfic#mcyt x you#mcyt x y/n#mcyt x reader#mcyt fanfic#mcyt imagine
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*Breaks down window since the door’s broken* Hi, again. It’s short anon, I’m here to wreak havoc with this request 🌚 I’d like to request hcs of Hawks, Mirio, Bakugo, and Shinsou with an s/o that has an owl quirk (I normally say Barn Owl but I’m requesting a black one since they’re adorable). So the quirk basically allows them to not only transform into a giant owl, but they have owl like traits. Traits include:
- Screeching when angered, Chirping when excited or curious, and occasional cooing when calm enough.
- They have large owl eyes and have night vision (it glows when they’re in the dark) but when pissed they get soulless, empty ones since their pupils can dilate in rage. They have amazing hearing too
- In owl form, they can fly with up to 4 people on their back, can slam into things or people like a battering ram, and telepathically communicate with everyone around them. They can still make their wings appear if they flap their arms enough and not think of their owl form.
- They can twist their head all the way around in their human form (randomly scaring people) and they’re nocturnal but manage to keep a good sleep schedule.
For their personality (based off a Barn Owl’s), they’re intelligent, observant, but friendly and goofy to those they like. However a pissed owl is a scary one, so if they dislike someone enough, they’ll have their soulless eyes and hiss at said enemy until they leave🦉 (HOLY ALL MIGHT, WHY ARE MY REQUESTS SO LONG?! 🗿🔫)
Holy shit! It’s so good to see you again short Anon 🥺. I missed you so much. Here are your headcanons ✨🖤
Hawks
B i r b s q u a d.
You, Hawks and Tokoyami are the official birb squad,
Hawks even had sweatshirts made to memorialize your team.
But if we’re being real,
That’s probably the only reason he was fascinated by you in the first place.
Not now of course,
He loves everything about you currently,
But if it weren’t for your quirk he would never had asked about you,
And you most likely wouldn’t have gotten together.
It was the quirk that lured him,
And the eyes that stole him.
Hawks will never admit it either-
But he is completely in love with your ability to turn into a giant owl.
He can do many more things with you,
All because of that asset to your quirk.
And the chirping-
Oh the chirping-
It fucks with him so hard.
He probably pops a boner every time you do it.
Mirio
You’d be surprised on how interested this mans is-
He asks so many questions,
It almost gets annoying.
And the giant owl thing makes him cheer like a kid
Every
Single
Time.
Not to mention-
Your eyes make him swoon.
He will actually show them off to Tamaki,
Who just hides his face against a wall in embarrassment.
But he has lots of pride in your eyes.
The screeching scares the actual shit out of tho
He thinks ur in danger and runs to you
Because bby boy wants you to be safe 🖤
But then he realizes,
Hey-
It’s just their quirk-
But he never learns 🙄
Bakugou
Bitch-
You think he gives a fuck?
He literally goes out of his way not to care
You will see him averting his eyes when you shift into a big owl,
He never had eye contact with you,
And he holds in laughter when you screech.
But-
Truthfully Bakugou loves your screeching
he thinks your eyes are adorable
And he thinks it’s badass when you turn into a giant owl.
But he ain’t gonna let you know that
He has a reputation to uphold.
So he isn’t gonna say shit about your cool quirk.
But he will do little things that signal he does,
Actually
Care.
Like when you ram into people or objects in owl form he will snicker about how they or it deserved it,
Or trying to get you to sleep a little more at night.
Trust me,
He cares.
He’s just a dick 😐
Shinsou
He doesn’t really care.
He fell in love with you because you were you,
Not because you had the quirk of an owl.
But his favorite thing about you is the way your head rotates 180.
He likes the way it freaks people out,
And he loves the way it looks too.
It’s almost like he’s watching a horror movie,
But with a beautiful person as the creepy character instead.
He also likes to stay up with you,
Because he knows you can keep up with his constant lack of sleep
You use that time for,
T h i n g s.
Like watching movies,
Playing video games,
Scrolling through cat videos,
And sex
Thanks for the request short Anon! See you next time 😘
Part 2?
#bnha x reader#bnha#mha#mha x reader#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo x y/n#katsuki bakugo imagine#mha bakugō#bakugou headcanons#bakugou x reader#pro hero hawks#boku no hero academia hawks#bnha hawks#hawks x y/n#hawks x reader#shinsoubnha#mha shinsou#shinsou x y/n#shinsou x reader#shinsou imagine#mirio fanfiction#mirio x reader#mirio headcanons#mirio x you#mirio imagine#my hero academia mirio#mha mirio#short Anon
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business proposals | {m}
oneshot | ceo! au | 10.9k words
“It was about time you addressed the cat and mouse game you and your boss have been playing for a time.”
s u m m a r y > > clashing heads with your annoyingly attractive boss was your everyday activity, but when a new, beautiful client comes in for the day you find yourself getting jealous. mr. lee, catching on, uses it to his absolute advantage, causing you to end up in a situation you did not think would end well. fortunately for you, with the way your dark-minded ceo’s mind worked, despite the hiccups in the middle, it ended just perfectly.
w a r n i n g s > > ceo! minho, secretary! reader, you get so annoyed at him all the time, he annoys you all the time, constant teasing, a fuckload of swearing, soooo much (kinda shit) sexual tension, flirtation back and FORTH, titles of endearment, minho is such a fucking dom, reader is a fucking BRAT, making out, fingering, oral (m. and f. receiving) you try to give him blueballs, unprotected sex (stay safe homies!!), semi-public sex (i mean they do it in his office so like), multiple orgasms, y’all be arguing during it all too HELP, minho has a sir kink sjsjskke, minho is so AGGRESSIVE HOLY SHIT, SO MUCH degradation, use of gags? (i mean he uses his tie so) basically you are 100% minho’s bitch by the end period!!
a u t h o r ’ s n o t e > > hello horny fia is back again with a minho oneshot because she can not control herself!!!1!1! thank you @hyuckworld for so much inspo and helping me out omfg the tie thing still on my mind !1!1! anyway this is inspired by minho’s soribada look cause he mf SERVED! and i hope y’all enjoy !
back to masterlist
YOUR SMILE WAS MORE LIKE A FLASH OF TEETH.
“For the last time,” you seethed, trying your very best to contain your bubbling temper, “You cannot see him if you don’t have an appointment.”
The woman before you, a striking image of curls and curves, fitted red dress, white blazer, and Louboutins elevating her height, knifed you with finely-lined eyes. “But I don’t need an appointment! Mr. Lee said so himself I could arrive at his office when I wished to speak with him!”
You pursed your lips. Of course Mr. Fucking Lee said so.
“Well, there’s nothing I can do about it, Miss Kim.” You turned to your computer, opening up the list of clients intended to meet your boss this afternoon. Sure enough, this woman’s name was not accompanied with the others. Once again, he had said some pretty words, but had not reminded you of them so you could write it down for official backing.
You could not help typing a little furiously. It was like he was trying to make your life harder.
“I demand to see him!” Miss Kim exclaimed, raising her voice so the other employees, who were scattered before you at their desks, working away, paused, witnessing the commotion. “I did not travel from another city to be rejected!”
“Ma’am,” you guttered, hands on the telephone, ready to call security, when the misty, glass-like door beside you swung upon.
A firm, sultry voice resonated in the room.
“What is the meaning of this noise?”
Out stepped the one man you were hoping would stay seated in his office.
You turned around in your seat, looking up at the suited figure of Lee Minho — CEO of the corporation you worked under, and the mastermind behind the technological revolution in your city.
He certainly looked the part: black suit unbuttoned with his tie hanging, white shirt contrasting the colours. His trousers hugged his thighs a little too tightly for your own good, designer branded shoes adorning his feet. His dark brown locks were cascading over his forehead, and his calculating eyes assessed the room, finding the reason for such noise behind his doors.
His gaze settled on the woman. “Ah, Miss Kim!” He declared, a known dazzling smile upon his lips. “It’s good you’ve arrived.”
“Of course I would come,” she said, darting her glare back to you. “This little assistant of yours was ready to throw me out of the building.”
A slight tilt of his head. “Oh, really?”
Then, his eyes descended on you, seated before him, and you noticed something already stirring behind them. “And why was this ‘little assistant of mine’ booting you out of here?”
You pointed to your computer. “She’s not on your list of appointments for today.”
“So?” A glance at the woman. “When a pretty lady asks to see me, you oblige her, understand?”
Seething, you lock your hands together. “Then what is the point of the list when you won’t follow it?”
You nearly gasped in anger when you caught slight mischief in his eyes. “Keeping you on your toes, ____.”
“As always,” you hissed, returning his malicious smirk with a scowl.
He only chuckled at your lack of amusement, turning to the woman once more. “Miss Kim,” he addressed her, opening the door, gesturing for her to enter. “Come inside.”
“Thank you, Mr. Lee,” she simpered out, widening her sharp grin at you before going inside his office.
The man stood, regarding you for a minute. You glanced at him, frown still there. “Yes?”
“I am not to be disturbed,” he said, gaze a little too intense for your liking. “Is that understood?”
You made sure to match his stare. “Yes, sir.”
And you could have sworn his lips twitched upward when he turned to his office, entering after the woman.
When the door slid shut, you let out a shuddering breath.
Why in hell were you holding your breath?
“God,” you muttered, furiously typing away on your computer, noticing another presence approaching you. “He’s going to be the death of me.”
“Do not tell me you’re talking about Mr. Lee here.”
You looked up, and rolled your eyes to find Kim Seungmin, one of the salesmen for the firm, standing before you, files in hand and a knowing smile on his lips. “I am, as a matter of fact,” you said. “And how much I want to kill him.”
The man gave you a look. “Now see, I don’t think ‘kill’ was the word I thought you’d use.”
“Oh yeah?” You crossed your arms. “Then what word do you think I’d use?”
“I don’t know, like…” his adorable smile was so unlike his words. “Kiss? Fuck even?”
You let out a harsh gasp, nearly whacking his arm with your scattered files. “Oh my God!”
“You can’t deny it, ____!” Seungmin pointed to the door. “You have a massive crush on him!”
“How can you even say that!” you demanded, pulling you near him so the others around you did not hear. “I hate that cocky bastard.”
Your friend clicked his tongue at your statement. “Then can you please explain to me why you both got enough sexual tension to suffocate the entire building?”
“We do not,” you refused instantly, picking up your mug of coffee. “You’re mistaking my bloodlust with just lust.”
“Can you at least stop pretending to me that you don’t want to suck his dick?”
Nearly choking on your coffee, you struggled it down, sending a sharp glare. “I don’t!” you raised your chin. “I bet it’s tiny anyway. Wouldn't have anything for me to suck on.”
Now that, of all the things you said that afternoon, was a complete, full blown, almost offensive, lie.
Not that you’ve caught a glimpse at the package which settled between Lee Minho’s legs. Well, you had, to your own shame, and were burning at the clothed sight, proving your little claim extremely incorrect. Your boss, devastatingly, had something substantial going for him.
Seungmin’s little laugh had you dropping down to reality. “You were thinking about his cock just now, weren’t you?”
Cheeks burning, you waved him off, groaning as you went back to your computer. Minho’s appointments looked oh so interesting. “Fuck off, Min.”
His laughter only deepened as he stepped away. “There’s no hope for you, girl. You keep daydreaming about that.”
If it weren’t for the people around you, you would have happily sent him away with a middle finger, but figured you should hang onto any scrap of professionalism left in you. The only thing you could do now was write up the new appointments for next week. Or perhaps play some Solitaire.
Anything to stop you thinking about him.
You twisted your lips into a scowl.
This was so unbelievable. Lee Minho was the greatest, most notorious asshole you knew of, yet here you were, like an absolute moron, pondering over him as if he was a lost love. All the time, when it was in meetings, or just bumping each other in the office breakroom, he managed to piss you off without effort, watching you enraged with a disgustingly ravishing smile on his revoltingly beautiful face. It was so, goddamn unfair, that he could rile you up so easily when all you could do was make him more amused.
To hell with him and his fine ass, you thought as you closed all tabs, opening up Solitaire.
Just as you thought you found a moment’s peace in this building, you heard the phone ring drastically loud, stopping you from completing a full set of one deck. Already irritated, you tried to suppress it as you picked up the handset, pressing it to your ear. “Minho and Company?”
The voice that greeted your ears made it incredibly hard to reign in your irritation. “Have you finished the list?”
“No,” was your clipped reply. You focused on the game, matching the cards to the deck of hearts.
“And when will this list finish?”
“I’m a busy woman, you know,” you drawled, aggressively clicking on your mouse. “You give me so much work it’s hard to keep up.”
“Oh, really?” Fuck him, you could hear the taunting in his voice. “So you don’t spend all day playing those stupid Windows games on your work computer?”
Your anger paused, eyes widening. The lack of response had the man cackling through the phone. “I bet you’re on that same card game you always play when you’re trying to avoid my tasks. What was the name again?”
“I can assure you, sir, I am not playing Solitaire.” You then sucked in an agitated breath at your mistake.
“Ah, that’s right.” You hated how you could hear the smirk playing on his lips. “Playing Solitaire and ignoring my work.”
Were you mistaken, or had his voice descended an octave? With the way you bit your lip, you knew you were caught anyway. “I’ll get the list done.”
“Mmm,” he got out, the low baritone still there. “And address me properly when you talk to me.”
Oh my God. “I’ll get the damned list done, sir.”
A small pause. “Good girl.”
And the line cut off.
Your hand nearly went limp holding the phone.
Good girl.
“Shut the fuck up,” you muttered, slamming the handset back in its place, feeling yourself heat up a frightening rate. “Cocky prick.”
All those curses towards him, and yet your cheeks still burned.
You did not cease your profanity — this time aiming more towards your own self.
Dear Lord. You really were in for it this time.
MINHO AND MISS KIM WERE STILL IN THAT ROOM BY THE TIME YOU HAD TO LEAVE THE OFFICE.
You decided to stay a little longer, finishing up the last of the tasks he’d assigned to you, and an hour later, when Seungmin passed your desk to exit the building, he darted his eyes to his boss’ door and wiggled his brows your way.
“Shut up,” you snapped at him, earning a cheeky smile.
“I wonder what they’re doing in there,” he thought out loud, propping a hand on your table.
You typed away, trying to dismiss the worst assumptions in your mind. “I don’t particularly care.”
Seungmin, damn him, could see right through you. “Then why are you still here? Pretending that I didn’t catch you with your ear to the door hours before?”
Unfortunately, he wasn’t lying. About three hours into the meeting, you became so restless you tried to listen in on what exactly was going on. It sounded so bizarre, when Minho had to sit in hours-long meetings every other day, but him alone in his office with that girl didn’t settle well with you.
“Oh, jealousy!” Seungmin chanted, pointing at your face. “Is that you I see before me?”
“Go away!” you waved him off, glowering at him. “I’m not jealous of some girl I saw today. Her and Minho can do whatever they want.”
“Whatever you say, ____,” he said, but the knowing smile lingered, aggravating you even more. “Good night.”
“Good night, Min,” you muttered, waiting for the man to turn out of the building before swinging in your chair.
The door welcomed you still.
You bit the inside of your cheek. Now see, you should not be letting your mind wander. Especially in situations which included your boss, another girl, and closed doors. Your gut twisted at the thought, and you were surprised at such a reaction.
What if Seungmin was right?
“No!” you whispered furiously to yourself, turning back to your computer. “Not jealous, just curious.”
Yes, that’s right. Just interested to know what the fuck they’re talking so long for.
“Oh God,” you breathed out, pressing your legs together. Maybe your friend was right. “Shit.”
Suddenly, you got up from your seat, picking up any scrap of paper and hurrying to the door. Pressing your ear to the misted glass, fingers clasping the metal handle. You could hear soft murmurs, a little laughter, but other than that, you failed to hear anything coherent.
This brought you even more agitation upon you. Doing something wrong, and it wasn’t even going as planned. This is what happened when you let yourself feel something.
Oh, no. Now you even admitted it to yourself that you had felt something for the asshole. If he ever heard of this, you would probably have to quit this job.
You pressed harder on the handle, never been more frustrated in your life than you were at that time. You were pathetic. Utterly disgraceful, but you could not help when you could not deny that Lee Minho-
You could not finish the thought.
Not when your hand slid on the handle too hard, swinging open the door. You let out a shrill screech as you stumbled inside the office, papers leaving your hands.
The conversation ceased, and you did not need to see them to know their eyes were on you.
Minho’s honey voice filled the room.
“What is this intrusion?”
You looked up, and felt your heart stop.
There he was, sitting leaned back at his plush executive chair, spinning a pen between his fingers. His brown locks were now raked back, a few strays cascading on the side of his forehead. His blazer was off, hung on his chair, and his shirt was tight on his hard chest.
Steadying yourself, but not your butterflies inside, you also saw Miss Kim hovering over him, showing him a few documents with her head a little close to his. She glanced up at you, and her face soured.
Minho snapped his fingers, shaking you out of your staring. “I asked you a question, ____.”
You wanted to snap at him, but reigned it in. “Sorry, but…”
But what? Not like you came in here with a plan.
Your eyes slid down to fallen files on the floor. “I needed to discuss...a proposal!”
Kneeling down, you picked up the scattered pieces of paper, on your feet in an instant. “Yes. A business proposal I needed to talk about.”
The man was not stupid; he saw right through your feeble excuse, with the impish gleam in his gaze. “Is that so?”
“What else would it be?” you pressed, masking your growing nerves with your irked frown.
His lips began to curve. You both stared each other down, refusing to back away. Miss Kim cleared her throat, even more angered by you now receiving his full attention.
“Shall I continue or…?” she carried off, completely deprived of his regard. Only when you glanced at her did his smile waver, raising the file.
He kept his eyes on you. “We can review this later,” he said to Miss Kim. He then addressed you. “And this time I’ll have an actual meeting planned. Happy, ____?”
You couldn’t suppress a scoff, not gone unnoticed yet unaddressed, as the woman took the files from him. She sent him a dazzling smile. “I will see you later, Mr. Lee.”
He returned it with a nod, watching her stroll past you, and out of the office. You watched the door close itself, sensing the silence more now the two of you were alone.
The quiet stretched on for longer before a hard sigh had you facing your boss once again.
“Beautiful, isn’t she,” he began, observing you from his rather messy desk.
That little comment of his pissed you right off. “The prettiest, in my opinion,” you crowed, gripping onto the files harder.
You then caught the shit-eating grin upon his face, and marred your face in a frown, causing him to splutter into laughter.
“Stop laughing,” you spat, but that only made him more breathless. “Oh, I’m leaving!”
“No you’re not,” he rasped out, finally calming down. He raised a hand across the chair before his desk. “You’re going to sit down and tell me of the proposals.”
A retort was on your tongue when you stopped, taking in his order. “Proposals?”
He cocked his head slightly, stray hairs tumbling with the action. “You said when you burst into my office that-”
He halted himself, everything falling into place.
When he focused on you this time, your stomach coiled at the way his smirk lit up his face. “Are you telling me you pretended to have appointments so you’d have that woman out of my room?”
The lack of response on his question had the man chortling. “My, my. Why so jealous, doll?” He gripped onto the arms of his chair, leaving the seat. “If you wanted me alone all you had to do was ask.”
Taking a step away from the desk, his fingers drummed on the table. “I wouldn’t have insisted on making an appointment either.”
A last surge of courage passed through you, especially from his words. “And what would you have done?” you got out.
The drumming paused, more from surprise at your question.
His piercing stare positively flared. “I don’t think you’d be able to handle it,” he guttered.
I don’t think you’d be able to handle it.
You didn’t know why that enraged you so much.
The cat and mouse game, once again being deflated by his words, leaving you disappointed. Why should you accept defeat this time?
You made sure he heard your thoughts.
“God, you really are a fucking prick!”
A pause. “Why would that be?” He took a step towards you, sharp brows furrowing.
“You…” staring at him, you screwed your face up in anger. “Toying with me all this time, yet doing nothing about it!”
That fine eyebrow was raised, but you carried on, refusing to let him speak. “Every single day, without fail, we see each other, bicker back and forth, and for what? Me all frustrated and you just enjoying it?”
You made sure you knifed your boss with a glare. “You just say words and leave. That’s all you can do.”
There was an eerie stillness after that — a slight shift in Minho’s demeanour, as his eyes narrowed, darkened at your claim. His hands, in his pockets before, slid out, and you saw they were fisted tightly.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me perfectly, sir,” you spat, that damned word he made sure you said every time . “You’re all bark and no bite.
“You’re a fucking coward.”
There it was.
The allegation against him. The words you’ve been wanting to say for so long, because you let yourself feel something for this man, and fuck, if he did not do anything about it you would quit this job here and now.
His next words were a mere whisper. They did not possess a hint of softness.
“Do you really think that?”
Another step.
Veins, slight before, we’re now more visible on his hands, trailing all the way up to the edge of the rolled up sleeves. When you caught his gaze, you nearly gasped at the pure, carnal fire that blazed within.
“Calling me a coward.”
Before you knew it, the man thundered towards you, and those veiny hands gripped your waist, pulling you to him in an iron grip. A small hiss escaped you at the sudden restraint.
“Don’t you dare call me a fucking coward again.”
His breath fanned your mouth, you mere inches from him. You made sure you kept your ground till the very end. Wherever that led you.
“Or what?” Your hands slid up to his shoulders. “Not like you would do anything. As per usual.”
And as the heavy silence reigned on the both of you, you had a little realisation.
Those words might have just been your undoing.
Because the second they left your tongue, Lee Minho growled fiercely before colliding his lips against yours.
His mouth snatched the very breath from you, an instant whine trying to escape yet refused by his lips, capturing yours and taking you with the strength of a wild beast. You nearly fell backwards from the pure momentum but were saved by his hands on you, branding their place on your skin.
The most surprising part was how you kissed him back with the same anger. The same rage which simmered the very first day you argued with him, and vowed to make his life a living hell, just like how he made yours unbearable during work. He captured your lower lip and began sucking on the flesh, and an obscenely loud moan escaped you at the contact.
The bastard was good. He was so, fucking good.
Just when you thought he’d go deeper, he pulled away, a thin bridge of saliva connecting the both of yours lips.
The trail broke when he took a step back, settling himself on his seat. That glistening mouth curved into a feline smirk, thumb stroking his lower lip.
“Still a coward, doll?”
You nearly collapsed without his hold. He took notice of your position, and scoffed at your weakness. “Looks like you took up the role instead.”
“How is that,” you rasped out, breath still uneven. “When you’re the one who stopped to sit down?”
Taking a step before him, your knees brushed against his own. “Looks like grandpa needs a rest.”
The comment had Minho’s eyes set ablaze. “You fucking—”
His hands reached out, tugging you upon him as he stayed seated. Your legs kneeled on either side of him, straddling him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, willingly accepting his lips. They worked so hypnotically with yours that you did not realise them opening your mouth completely, with his tongue sliding inside. He explored everywhere, finding your own tongue and swirling it along with his, ruining any chance of you suppressing your groaning at his actions.
Perhaps Minho took notice of your stubbornness, because his hands landed on your thighs, fingers tracing the hem of your skirt. You let the groan free as he hitched the fabric higher, higher, higher, removing himself from your lips and descending down, pouncing on a particular patch of skin on your neck.
“Already so—” he sucked hard on your neck, revelling in your whines, “—already so loud when I’ve only just kissed you?”
“Fuck you,” you breathed out, digging his nails into his shirt. He cackled at your response, sinking his teeth and creating the first bruise of the evening.
“I’m gonna have to teach you some manners,” he whispered onto your skin, raising your skirt high enough that your intricate lacing of your lingerie, black as the night, began to show. Minho practically salivated at the image; you knew from the raging lining beneath his trousers.
“All talk,” you merely said, despite the uneven breathing. “All talk and no action.”
His thumbs pressed into your thighs, ceasing your words with a little whine. It had the man capturing your lips again, pulling you down with his hands on your legs, closing any distance between you two, needing to have you all over him. Your lips swelled, bruised by the rough handling of your boss’ mouth, ravaging you in ways you didn’t dare dream of. His fingers, trailing up your skin once again, curled under the waistband of your underwear.
Your heart hammered in your chest at his touch. He was being too slow, too damn slow while you dripped with the beginning of arousal, making you a shuddering mess.
Lee Minho was about to slide the lace down when a shrill call flooded the room.
Both of you stopped dead in your tracks. The man whirled to the origins of the sound, coming from his wide open laptop — a notification for joining a meeting call popped up on the screen, automatically picking up in about five seconds.
Your boss nearly had a heart attack.
With quick thinking, Minho pried you off him, practically dumping you upon the floor with a slight groan. His hands gathered you under the table, pressing a finger to your lips with a stern look before disappearing up on his desk.
You let out a deliberately loud scoff just before he accepted the call, fingers swiping down to pinch you for calling out. You could not see his face, only from the navel down, sat right before you, caging you with his legs.
“Ah, Mr. Lee!”
A gasp almost escaped you, but remembered his glare and actually stopped. One make out session and you already obeyed him like a servant.
Over your dead body.
Your boss’ low growl had you widening your eyes. “What do you want, Chan?”
The hazy answer revealed his employee’s concern. “Mr. Lee, are you okay?” You heard him say through the laptop speaker.
You saw Minho’s leg start bouncing rapidly, and although you could not see his expression, you knew that he was, most definitely, pissed off. “I’m perfect. Fantastic even. Now what do you want?”
You were ready to sit still, wait through the meeting as Chan’s uncertain voice spoke of some specific business deals that needed to be confirmed, few details that needed to be checked over. However, the way your arousal still dripped, ever so slowly, was a weight, reminding you of the activities occurring mere moments before. You didn’t even bother to pull your skirt down.
It was settled. You needed this problem of yours solved now, or never.
Fortunately for you, your solution was presented to you, right before your eyes, and right between Minho’s legs.
His cock still stood, erect against the lining of his trousers.
You gulped at the sight. The bastard was mean, flaunting it all before you, knowing you would have thrust it straight in your mouth if you hadn’t been interrupted.
A spark ignited within you. Why should it stop you now?
Oh God. Why were you suddenly becoming so bold? Was it you, being so turned on that you needed your needs met without wait? Whatever the reason, you found nothing to argue against it.
If Minho was playing games with you, then you would play along with him.
Hands stretching on the floor, you crawled towards him, settling yourself between the space his legs created. Kneeling slightly, your fingers extended towards the zipper on his trousers, prying it down.
The man stilled under your touch.
Head protruding from the edge of the table, you spied Minho’s eyes, ever so carefully darting down to you, his mouth parting slightly under the cover of his hand. He hummed at Chan’s words, but you knew his interest was rooted only to you and your daring fingers.
When you unzipped his trousers, ready to peel them down, his other hand, out of the sight of the laptop, caught your wrist. His grip dug into your skin, stopping you in your tracks.
You looked up at him, making sure you expose your desperation in your eyes. His own widened, only for a second before dragging them back on the screen. A smirk curved onto your lips, knowing he was so affected by your mere actions. How you dared to toy with your boss.
The pout-like expression paid off, when the grip on your wrist loosened. Hurriedly your hands went to the waistband of his trousers, pulling the fabric down, and you had to commend Minho’s ability to look so calm when you were practically drooling at the sight that welcomed you.
You did not even bother to pull the pants right down, stopping just under his knees as you admired his finely sculpted thighs. It was no secret that your boss worked out everyday after he was done with meetings, and every time you caught evidence of his toils you wished you didn’t inwardly moan at the sight. His taut muscle stretched all the way up to his underwear, slightly soiled at the tip of his dick, outlined against the fabric.
Minho glanced down for a second at his antics, and when he looked back at the laptop again there was a ghost of a smirk on his lips.
“Chan, hurry and finish this up,” he jeered.
This was enough signal to start peeling his boxers down too.
Your eyes nearly popped out of your sockets when you saw his cock spring free, curving proudly with its tip inches from his abdomen. The top glistened with the pre-cum, trailing down the length.
Oh dear God.
Your index, on instinct, reached out, cutting the white trail as you journeyed up the shaft. Minho’s low, barely audible growl had you shivering.
“Mr. Lee, you don’t look so well,” you heard the hazy worry of your coworker. You couldn’t help the giggle, and Minho’s side glare had you grinning.
He was not the one in control at the moment.
“I said I’m fine, Chan,” he snapped, and when you swiped up the remaining pre-cum on the head his dick twitched, a choked breath escaping. “Perfectly fine!”
“Uh, okay, then, this won’t take much longer…”
You, on the other hand, were just getting started.
Fingers, first stroking up the shaft, now wrapped around his cock, and with your heart in your throat you began a slow rhythm of sliding your hand up and down. Glancing up, you caught the colour of his face draining, using every ounce of his strength not to groan out loud.
You savoured the harsh tick in his jaw, quickening your pace and watched the man lose his cool, nerves in his neck protruding. Oh God, he was on the edge of his patience. It only encouraged your risky behaviour, dick hardening even more beneath your touch.
Still, there was no vocal outcry, to your irritation. You wanted to embarrass him during his meeting. Make him shut that laptop and moan out what he’s feeling. With these goals in mind, you cupped the base, and snuck a little closer, your face mere inches from his cock.
Taking one last peek at his paled face, you brought out your tongue and slid it along the head.
A soft groan emitted from your boss.
Chan’s monologuing of events paused, but the look on Minho’s face had him hurriedly continuing, while you progressed on, lapping up the remaining pre-cum you couldn’t catch with your index. You were never fond of the taste, but you took it in anyway, just to see the bastard’s mouth part in a way which had you almost leaking too.
Done with the soft, kitty licks, you hung on to your courage as you opened your mouth a little wider, taking in the head with your lips. Your hands stay wrapped around his cock as you, slowly, so slowly, went down, taking in inch by inch.
Minho’s fist smacked against the desk.
“Mr. Lee—”
“Ask me again, and you’re fired,” your boss guttered, hips sliding forward to push his cock further into your mouth. You nearly gagged at the action, but take it all in, obliging him because then you created a pattern of bobbing your head. Up and down, going easy, relaxed at first, you were sure Lee Minho was going to bring down his office.
But he didn’t.
And all because of that fucking meeting.
Suddenly angered, you did not bother fastening your pace, ready to give him blue balls for not reacting to your touches. Your mouth was back on top, lips still wrapped around the head, when you looked up at your boss through your lashes.
He stared down at you. Widened his eyes at the sight of you still enveloping his cock with your mouth, your gaze revealing the irritation of his lack of response.
Oh, he’ll give you something to work with.
His hand immediately when to the back of your head, stopping you from leaving as the other hand grabbed at the laptop screen.
Chan knew exactly what he was about to do. “Mr. Lee, I still have one more thing—”
You did not hear anymore, hearing the sharp SNAP! of the laptop shutting.
The silence returned, but did not stay for long as, gradually, Minho looked down at you, properly this time, and offered you such a lust-filled stare you were glad you did not leave your place upon his cock.
“Did you really think, doll,” he whispered, running his fingers through your hair, “That I was going to let you leave me? Just like that?”
You did not answer back — obviously, because your mouth was a little occupied, but you raised your brows at him, hands tightening at his base. He let out a shuddered breath, chuckling.
“Still a brat, hmm? At least you’re not talking back.”
He tugged harder at your locks. “If this was the way to shut you up, I would have done it a long time ago.”
Although your cheeks burned, you made sure to shut him up when you started your flow once again, closing your eyes as you went up and down on him.
Only this time, you had a little assistance.
Minho’s groaning roamed the room, like sweet music to your ears as you gradually fastened, working his dick with your hands too. Instinctively, the man bucked his hips into you, needing to have all of his inches in your mouth, needing to release all that pent up frustration that you created for him.
He said as much.
“Look at you,” he rasped up at you, curling away flyaways from your face as you worked on him. “Taking all of my cock…ah, all of my cock in your pretty little mouth.”
His filth was encouragement, and as you were sucking harder you could tell he was getting near. Pride washed over you, as your one of your hands reached out to play with his balls, earning a harsh moan from his lips.
“Ah—keep going, doll,” he rasped, his hips straying from a solid rhythm, knowing he’s going to let go soon if you kept up at this rate. “Doing so well.”
Perhaps these pieces of praise had you looking up, making sure he was watching as you hollowed your cheeks, taking him all in fully, a slight curve to your lips.
The absolute sin in the image of you kneeling before him, with his full length in you, had him crying out. He could not control the release that shot into your throat, pouring down and making you gag at its suddenness. Still, you took it all in, accepted the cum instead of spitting it out.
When he was finished, slightly heaving, his eyes danced at you slowly swallowing it down, a challenge in the quirk of your brow. Sweat beaded down at your forehead, but knowing you had Minho moaning over your skill was something to take pride in.
Lapping up the remaining cum, you swiped it off with the back of your hand. “Nice meeting, sir?”
The man could only laugh at your comment, so normal despite the situation. ”Adequate,” he drawled, pulling his boxers and trousers up as he cleaned off his dick. “But there’s still much to discuss.”
He wheeled his chair back, arms wrapping around you to free you from under the desk. You were glad of his help, for your legs were near-buckling. He noticed this too, for a smirk began to play on his lips.
Leaving you for a just a moment, he turned to his desk. He threw all his work off the top, paper and stationary flying from the table and scattering onto the floor. His laptop was thrusted at the ends of the table, unable to be a distraction.
“Hey, your papers will be all messed up,” you started, but he surprised you with a heart-searing kiss, making you almost collapse. You let his tongue slide inside instantly, hands gripping harder onto your hips as he tasted his release on your tongue, and when he roughly tugged on your lower lip, you gasped lightly at the harsh treatment.
He backed you further, the back of your upper thighs hitting his desk, and when he left your lips, his dark gaze had you weakened.
“I don’t really give a fuck about the papers right now, doll.”
You would have leaked out your arousal there and then. “Minho—”
“Did I tell you to call me Minho?” He demanded, fingers digging into your hips. Dazed, you tilted your head, only wanting his tongue down your throat again.
Catching the expression, he shook his head. “I’ll let you off today because you’re being a good little bitch this time.”
Dear God, you hated how you loved being called that.
His tongue working on your neck had you whimpering. “It’s sir to you, understand?”
You already had a counterpoint to piss him off with, but the animalistic threat in his eyes had you gulping. “Yes sir.”
The title had him going hard all over again. He teethed another hickey onto your skin, finding solace in the crook of your neck.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you all wet for me before, doll,” he whispered, hands sliding down, gripping the hem of your skirt. He hurriedly hitched it upwards, bunching it at your hips.
His fingers skimmed over your thighs before feeling the soft silk of your black lingerie, a familiar sight. “Ah, see?” His sole index traced over the front, dipping the fabric in your slit, already staining with your arousal. “All wet, just for me.”
“Stop it,” you whined, hands on his shoulders. “Stop teasing.”
“Since when do you order me around, ____?” He crowed, palming your clothed cunt, completely ignoring your demands. A ragged breath escaped you at the friction, so pleasurably wonderful you feared what would happen to you when he plays with you without the thin layer.
His attitude, however, still pissed you right off.
“I’ll be dried up by the time you start,” you seethed at him, nails digging into his shoulders. Provoking him was your only option, to get him to stop beating around and rail you on his desk.
“I don’t think so, doll,” he purred, other hand playing with the bands of your panties. You were about to snap when he hooked a finger over the hem of the lace and slid the underwear right down, just above your knee, and your breathing hitched as you found his gaze rooted to your now exposed cunt, already glistening from your arousal.
Minho’s mouth was practically salivating.
Despite the nerves growing in your belly, you still snapped him out of his mind drooling. “Are you going to just keep staring? Because that isn’t going to make me cum.”
His eyes slid to you, and shit, you could tell how much he wanted to beat your ass for your useless commentary. “Don’t make me shut you up again.”
“Talk, talk, talk,” you provoked, grabbing hold of his black tie.
A primal growl emitted from his throat, and when his fingers began skimming over the surface, you let out a whimper. “Oh, so my little doll wants to cum all over my fingers, then?” he muttered, eyes gleaming with an indecipherable goal.
His dirty words, along with him playing over your folds, had your stomach all knotted up. It was this tight feeling which had you breathing out, “Yes sir.”
The title at the end which had him slipping the first finger inside of you.
The feeling of his index sliding inside had you moaning much too loud for an action so small. Minho thoroughly enjoyed your reaction, finger almost fully inside when he palmed your core as well, already had you halfway there to your own undoing.
When his finger was up to the knuckle, his other hand found refuge in your locks, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your throat. He began to slowly pull out, creating the same gradual rhythm you had when your mouth was on his cock before. When only the pad of his finger was inside, he thrust back in, making you whine at the rush.
If that was not enough, a second finger joined in on his labour, stretching your walls and you hissed at the snugness of his digits in your cunt, continuing that pattern which had you crying out from pure ecstasy. Damn the bastard, but he was so good at making you helpless.
A deep feeling settled in your gut, and you knew if he kept up at this, you were going to cum all over him. “I-I’m close,” you got out, wrapping your hand around the tie further, pulling him even closer.
Minho, satisfied with creating a painting of lovebites upon your neck, locked your gaze with his. You were surprised to find sinister mischief in his eyes. “My babydoll is going to cum, now?” he questioned, further puzzled to hear softness in his usual fire-like voice. You nodded desperately, praying that he finger-fucks you after this calm. All you desired now was sweet release.
Which was why you cried out in protest when he slipped his fingers out entirely.
Your lust-hazed eyes looked at him, all wide. “Wh-what?”
The arousal-stained fingers gripped your thigh, a small yelp escaping you. The man’s other hand gripped your chain, making sure you don’t break his carnal stare. “You don’t get to cum unless I say so.”
You nearly sobbed as you felt your orgasm start to fade. You knifed him with a glare, pulling him a hair’s breadth from you with the tie. “What the fuck is up with that, sir?”
His grip on your chin tightened. “Don’t argue back, doll.”
The two digits were pushed inside you once again, and still, damn your senses, your breathing hitched. “If I see release on my fingers, I’ll fuck the orgasm up, understand?”
Although the nerves were back, you wished looks could kill when you stared at him. So he’s going to keep toying with you, then?
Well. Two could play that game.
You convinced him with a timid smile, wrapping your hand around his tie all the way. “As you say, sir.”
Delighted at your response, he struck up that hypnotic flow of his fingers, slowly pumping inside of you. Of course, you relished the way he worked within you, knowing he was waiting for the final cry when he hit a specific spot, but you had to show him your place.
Instead of moaning down the office, like you wished you would, your stubbornness silenced you completely.
Even when Minho fastened his pace, making it incredibly hard for you to stay rigid, you gave him a taste of his own medicine, not a single whine escaping you, just the way he stayed angrily quiet in the meeting. His tie was your only source of venting out your frustration, pulling on it so harshly you wondered how the man’s neck hadn’t given in yet.
A strange sense of hysteria bubbled within you when your boss noticed your silence. Snarling, he dug deeper, and when he hit your g-spot, your eyes nearly burst out of your sockets.
“Being a fucking brat again?” he retorted, fingers playing with the spot until finally, a soft whine came free of your tongue. “Trying to mock me?”
You took in a ragged breath, hair a mess, courtesy of his hand. You glared and glared, but still, you refused to say anything. Refused to say a word, and when you saw his mouth twist into a scowl you savoured his anger.
He ripped his hand from your tie, loosening it from his neck. He straightened it out, every action fuelled with aggression. It made your whole body crawl with excitement.
You parted your mouth to piss him off even more when you suddenly felt a mouthful of silk, completely stopping you. Trying to whine, the tie knotted behind your head, and Minho pulled so hard it nearly stopped your blood circulation.
“Didn’t want to moan, huh?” he guttered, tying up a pretty knot beneath your locks. “Tried to be smart, did you?
The tie wedged inside your mouth stopped you from answering back, Minho taking great satisfaction in your broken mumbling. “Oh, so you wanna talk now?” he mocked, slowly descending, until his face was at level with your cunt. He looked up, and the sight had you shutting up immediately. “No, we’ll play your little game.”
His eyes resembled a demon’s. “One fucking word from you and you’ll be sorry,” he warned, hands, now on your thighs, squeezing the muscle. The anger was so cold you only nodded erratically, fingers gripping the edge of the table.
Spreading your legs a slight, he closed the distance, tongue opening the seams and licking the surface.
You could not help the stifled moan which worked its way out the gag.
Retracting at your reaction, he glanced up, fingers digging into your skin. “Shut your fucking mouth,” he growled, trailing down your inner thigh. That command alone had you in near tears.
He didn’t wait for your incoherable answer as he dived right back in, tongue now licking your clit in a way which had you seeing stars, along with the added assault of his two digits pumping your core. He immediately found your sweet spot and curled his fingers, knowing you would melt right on his face.
Because the gag worked wonders in ceasing your words, you had to vent out your release through gripping Minho’s hair, pushing further, begging him to just let you cum all over his face. The man was a mean prick, though, and wouldn’t ever give you that satisfaction.
His fingers increased their tempo, in and out, and your orgasm was right on the edge, threatening to wash over you if he didn’t stop. You whined as much as you could this time, praying he understood what you meant, and not just you provoking him further.
You tried to curse yourself at how pathetic you were in that state, but you were honestly so fucked out you didn’t particularly care. All you wanted now was for Minho to ruin you.
The man, taking notice of your cries, paused his licking, fingers still at their thrusting. His eyes still up at your ravaged state, and you nearly undid yourself at the pure pride that shone in his gaze. “Does my little brat wanna cum all over my face?” he cooed darkly, and you could not nod fast enough, earning a husky chuckle from him.
“Will you talk back?” God, an even faster shake of your head, eyes glistening. “You better fucking not.” he sighed, blowing on your cunt which had you wailing into the silk. “Well, since the gag’s still on…”
He offered you a small grin, enough to drive you insane.
“Go on then, you fucking slut. Cum on my face.”
His mouth was upon your cunt in seconds, just in time for you crying out into the tie-gag as you released your orgasm, creating a mess of him as you spilled yourself onto his tongue, his chin, everywhere, barely avoiding the office floor. Minho slowed his pumping inside, eventually ceasing as he took in your release, pulling away.
You caught the slight spillage scattered on his chin, and he slid his tongue down, looking up at you with feline amusement. “All that bitching, and you still cummed,” he mused, soothing your throbbing with his fingers. “Still gonna call me a coward?”
He stood, his clothed hard on rubbing against your folds, and you knew you that despite the orgasm, you needed more. His mere fingers, however heavenly, were not enough.
His one hand cupped your head while the other tugged on the gag, pulling it down from your mouth. You coughed lightly at the freedom, desire swirling in your features still. “I…” you started, but your throat still hurt. “I…”
“Use you words, doll,” he ordered, unravelling the knot on his tie behind you. “God knows you use them too well.”
“F-fuck...you,” you rasped out, causing him to raise a brow.
“Still got attitude?” He traced his thumb over your cheek. “Despite you whining like a little bitch to let you cum?”
His hands left your face, sliding to your thighs as he gripped onto them, having you sit on the desk. He then moved down further, tossing your lingerie before wrapping your legs around his waist.
Leaning in, his chuckle tickled your lips. “Guess I’m gonna have to fuck the brat out of you.”
That alone would have had you moaning if Minho didn’t shut you up with a rough kiss, fingers sloppily unbuttoning your shirt. He sucked on your tongue, failing to take the shirt off, and with a harsh groan ripped the parting, buttons popping to the floor. He peeled the attire off you, dumping it with your panties, and when he pulled away, he took in your intricately laced bra, and his malice was replaced with pure, unadulterated lust.
“God, I’m going to ruin you, doll.”
You answered with capturing his mouth, nibbling on his bottom lip, his clothed boner creating friction against your inner thighs. His hands ravaged all over your exposed skin, while your own returned the favour, unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off. You ran your fingers up his abdomen, the granite solidity having you rolling your hips against him. Smiling against your lips, you felt his hands descend, gripping at the underside of your thighs before he lifted you up.
You gasped lightly, wrapping your hands around his neck as Minho, while leaving a trail of kisses down your neck, collarbone, tongue sliding along, turned around, your back to the full view of the nightlife of the city, revealed through floor length windows of his office all around. Walking towards it, he backed you up against the glass, the cold sending shivers down your spine. That, and Minho leaving core-shaking kisses upon your skin, as he began to unhook your bra strap, tearing the lingerie off you.
“Minho!” you exclaimed, when he planted his lips upon your bare breast, sole finger playing with the other. Hearing his name had him grinding against you, making you whimper.
He went up, erratic breathing entering your ears. “It’s sir to you,” he snapped, before diving back in on your breast, licking over your nipple so thoroughly that you felt that overgrowing need to release once again. Again, with the teasing, the playing, when all you needed was his cock to fill you right up.
“Sir, p-please,” you begged, your legs locked tightly behind him.
“Please what, doll?” he hissed onto your skin, one hand tracing your throat.
One more thrust of his hips and your eyes pricked with tears. “P-please fuck me, sir,” the knots in your belly growing.
“Finally,” he breathed out, thumbing your neck, softly compared to the hard on you were practically sitting on. “You’re not being a little bitch.”
One hand still clasped around his neck, you brought the other down to his trousers. Looking up at him, he almost softened.
“Now you’re asking permission?” he cooed, straying from your breasts. “Being a good girl for me?”
You never had an idea on how much that affected you. “Don’t push it,” you countered, a tired smirk still playing on your lips.
“Go on, doll,” he said, hitching you higher on the glass, moistening with the sweat beading down your back. “But I like you better when you beg.”
“Let’s see if you-ah!” you were cut off when you pulled his trousers down, and his cock tried to burst from his stained underwear, rubbing against your cunt much too deliciously. “Fuck me hard enough.”
“Stop running your mouth and pull my boxers off,” he ordered, and this you willingly obliged, careful of your leg-lock as you peeled them down to his knees, he getting them clean off. When his cock sprung free, you were salivating at the sight, angry red and ready to have it inside of you.
When he caught your blatant staring, he snapped his fingers. “Careful, or you’ll start cumming without my permission.”
Your widened eyes darted to him, and your lack of response had him actually laughing. “Already forgotten your words?” he mocked, fingers gripping your chin. “My babydoll is getting dumb staring at my cock.”
“Please, sir,” you murmured, locking your hands behind his neck. “P-please fuck me.”
Minho let out a pleasured sigh at your pleading. “As you wish, ____.”
Pressing his forehead against yours, he clasped his cock, directing the tip to your entrance, already staining the surface with its pre-cum. His other hand gripped onto your hip, steadying you against the glass, now slightly misted.
“Ready?” he asked, surprised to hear a little softness as he caressed your hip with his thumb.
You nodded against his forehead, parting your mouth. “Yes, sir.”
A little scoff escaped him. “Good girl.”
That was all he needed before he began the final descent.
His cock slid inside, and your breathing turned irregular as your walls stretched slightly at the intrusion. He went further and further, moving ever so slowly to let you adjust. Lord knows you needed to, when his dick was so big.
“O-oh my God—” you stumbled out, feeling as if the man had filled you right up to your gut when he was finished. You kept deathly still, fearing you might shatter if you even moved the wrong way.
“It’s okay, doll,” he reassured you, hand leaving his cock and settling upon your other hip. “Whenever you’re set.”
“I’m good,” you said, more scared that you would cum right onto his dick if he tried to move inside you. “Stop worrying and...and fuck me already.”
His thumbs pressed harder on your sides, a pleasured sting ringing. “Now I won’t regret it if you can’t walk after this.”
A ragged scoff escaped you. “We’ll see about that-”
Well, you really couldn’t when Minho began to pull out.
Your mockery was cut off with a shrill cry, hold tightening on him as his cock slowly slid out. The gradual process was so pleasurable you had to hold onto him for dear life, or you knew you would collapse onto the office floor. The man made sure that never happened, grip on your sides never slipping, pressing you against the warming glass.
“I’ve only just started,” he drawled breathlessly, still relishing how loud you were being despite him merely beginning. “Has my babydoll never been fucked before?”
You had, but never had anyone made you so weakened by a simple pull out. In fact, your sexual life was average at best, but you telling him that he would, by far, be the biggest mistake. He’s already got an ego the size of his cock - you were not going to inflate it any larger.
“H-have been,” you gasped out. “B-better even.”
That false claim had him knitting his brows in anger. He thrusted his dick right back in, and another whine choked out of you.
“Liar,” he spat, filling you right to the brim. “Lying to me when my cock’s inside you.”
God, the rage that filled his veins was pure ecstasy in your mind. Good, you thought, making sure you chuckled at him. Provoke him till he breaks you.
“H-he was so much-argh!” you just couldn’t get a word out when he began to pull out once more, Minho now attacking your neck with his lips, bruised patches of your skin as he started up a painfully delightful rhythm of pushing and pulling his cock into you.
“Go on, you fucking brat,” he snarled onto your throat, licking up the column. “Try and tell me there was anyone better.”
You were on to tell him, gloat breathlessly that there were all these obviously real people who had fucked you into oblivion, but when his fingers began to prod at your clit those lies were replaced with thundering mewls, nails digging into his back.
Fastening his pace, you rolled your eyes back, head hitting the glass. Minho, watching you, slammed his hips forward, hitching you upward with the sheer force of his cock and snapping you out of your haze, making you look at him.
“I asked you something, doll,” he demanded with rich sarcasm, fingers never stopping on your clit, nearly taking you over the edge. When the head of his dick hit a certain spot, deep into your core, you couldn’t even control the slight drool which trailed down your spit-slick lips.
Minho’s dark laughter only had the knots tightening in your belly. “Awww, my babydoll’s so fucked out she can’t even speak?” his mouth curled into a smirk. “Only a useless set of holes for me to toy with, aren’t you?”
You thought you said something, hopefully something to shut him up, but when your orgasm was right at the tip of your cunt you knew it was as the bastard said - useless.
As you predicted, Minho quickened his fingers on your bud. “Worthless fucking bitch,” he mocked mercilessly, practically branding you against the glass. With the sheer anger he fucked you with, you were scared the windows would crack. You wouldn’t put it past him.
“C-close, sir,” you finally got out, managed to formulate the only words you needed at that moment. Your boss, at this, only increased his pace of his erratic thrusts, practically decimating your cunt with his cock. You had a feeling among the lust-filled haze of your mind that he, too, was getting close, with the way his flow turned sloppy.
“And…” he took in a sharp breath. “And what about it?”
Oh, you knew what his last game was. Permission from him, pleading to let you spill your arousal all over his cock.
In any normal circumstance, you would have laughed at their face. Made sure they never asked something so atrocious.
Lee Minho, however, was another case entirely. Not when he was your lifeline, the only one in the universe who could save you from this impending doom. Even though he was the bastard who brought it down on you in the first place.
So you did what possibly no human being could ever ask of you.
You pleaded.
Practically begged to let you feel sweet release.
“Can I…” another soft cry left your lips. “F-fuck, please...can I cum?”
Minho imprisoned you with his gaze. Locks sticking to his forehead, mouth parted in desire, and pupils dilated, you still found him so utterly beautiful, despite the wilderness beneath. Found him even more so when he finally decided to show you some mercy.
“Go on, babydoll. Cum for me.”
You didn’t need to be told twice.
Your vision nearly blacked out when you obliged, orgasm spilling out from the tight spaces between your walls and his cock, dribbling down your legs and dripping onto the office carpet. The sight of your spillage had Minho finishing off his own thrusts, releasing an earth-shattering cry as he barrelled his own release into you, ropes of cum spilling out of your cunt, joining your mess on the floor.
A slight peaceful stillness settled over the office, save for the both of you, breathing as if you had been underwater this whole time. Minho’s cock was still inside you, snug around your moistened walls. Slowly, he pulled it out, hanging limp from use, and your cunt felt hollow, emptier than it has ever felt before.
You unlocked your legs from his waist, immediately regretting the action when they gave out under you. Collapsing onto Minho, you were instantly met with his arms, holding you up.
“Careful,” he muttered, leading you to his chair, settling you down on the plush leather. He pulled his boxers up, along with his trousers, finding your own attire on the floor and placing it on your lap.
Smiling lazily, you started adorning your rather dirtied attire. “A good business proposal, no?” you mused, referring to your terrible excuse at the beginning of the evening.
Remembering, he chuckled, putting on his shirt. “I never bought that anyway, doll,” he merely said, buttoning to the top. “I knew you were jealous.”
Cheeks burning, you mumbled a little shut up, earning yourself a grin from the man. Finding your own shirt useless from Minho ripping it open, you said so to the man. “Look what you’ve done to my top”
He only spared it a glance before grabbing his tie, stained with your saliva. “Look what you’ve done to my tie.”
“That was your own fault,” you remarked, hoping your blazer would cover your front up. “You put the gag on me, prick.”
“Feeling brave already?” Minho purred, already putting you on a familiar edge. “Thought I’d fucked the brat out of you by now.”
Oh, he really did. He truly made you his little bitch not moments ago, and perhaps that would be rooted in you for the future.
But of course, you’re not going to tell him that.
You stood up from his chair, slipping into your heels. His eyes watched you as you walked to the door, opening it wide.
You looked back, catching something akin to wonder in his gaze.
“It’s going to take a little more than that, sir,” you declared, and left the room, closing the door behind you.
And as you prepared to leave the building, Lee Minho stayed rooted in his office, feeling his insides go wild all over.
It’s going to take a little more than that, sir.
Oh, God.
The man scoffed.
“Fucking brat.”
“I DEMAND TO BE LET IN!”
Once again, you rolled your eyes at Miss Kim, who was now adorned in magenta, long boots tapping against the marble floor.
“Mr. Lee is busy, Miss Kim,” you told her for the umpteenth time, refusing to believe that one seemingly intelligent woman, who had her own business, could be so thick-headed. “If you would just sit down—”
“You don’t tell me what to do,” she snapped, pointing an acrylic-painted finger at you. “I am a special client of Mr. Lee’s, and don’t need an appointment.”
You let out a sharp breath through your nose. It had not even been two days before she was back at the office, demanding Minho’s presence for the continuation of her meeting before you interrupted them.
A small smile caught onto your lips. Thank God you did.
“Hey!”
You perked up, brows instantly furrowing. “Miss Kim, just like the last time, I cannot help you. I can only give you entrance inside if you have an official appointment.”
Letting out a harsh laugh, she shook her head, wiggling the same finger at you. “Miss whatever your name is, I don’t like to have my time wasted, and you certainly are wasting my time. If I say I want to see Mr. Lee then you better damn well let me see Mr. Lee!”
Your mouth nearly opened to snap back at her when the glass door beside you swung open, and out stepped the CEO himself, who possessed the same irritation on his face as you did as he leaned his figure against the doorway.
“What is this constant racket?” he complained to no one in particular, and when his eyes fell upon his unofficial client he stopped. “Oh, good afternoon Miss Kim.”
“Mr. Lee, your little assistant is being difficult once again,” the woman declared, glaring at you. “She did this the last time I was here, and even when you let me in she’s doing the same thing again.”
“Oh, really now?” Minho got out. He turned to you, his dashing face exposing slight amusement at the claim. “Is that so, ____?”
You fought the urge to smirk at him. “She does not have an appointment,” you explained, spinning your pencil to avoid his searing gaze. “You told me only to let the people who’ve made appointments enter your office.”
Minho grinned for you. “That I did,” he confessed, eyes sliding to Miss Kim, whose smug smile faltered. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid the rules must be followed.”
The woman’s arrogance faded completely when the words left his mouth, finding herself defeated. “I see,” she said, still souring at the sight of you. “Well, I’ll phone up tomorrow morning.”
“You do that, Miss Kim,” he agreed, and watched as the woman turned on her heel, grumpily exiting the building.
The man found your eyes, and you saw them dance with mischief. You already felt your heartbeat pick up the pace when he walked over to you, planting his hands on your desk. “I need you inside the office, doll.”
Oh my God. “Whatever for, sir?” you asked innocently, trying to focus on your round of Solitaire, stark on the computer screen.
The table creaked underneath his fists at the title. “Let’s say it’s a…” he leaned in a little, careful of his employees beyond the hallway. His voice conveyed a slight husky tone. “A business proposal.”
Shivers crawled down your spine. Fuck him. Fuck him for bringing up your shitty excuse of two days ago. “I hate you,” you whispered harshly to him, despite the nerves.
His eyes never left you. “We’ll see about that when we start the meeting, doll.”
He stood straighter, opening his office door. “Now are you coming in?”
You studied the open door, the hidden opportunity that laid beyond. When you caught the growing lust in his gaze, you pressed your thighs together.
Standing up, you hurried to the doorway, earning chuckling from your boss. “Shut up, asshole,” you hissed, entering the fated office. Seeing the desk already had your cheeks burning.
“It’s sir to you, brat,” he only said, hands already on you as he closed the door.
#stray kids imagines#stray kids smut#stray kids oneshot#lee minho imagines#lee minho smut#lee minho dark hours#stray kids dark hours#stray kids hard hours#skz smut#skz imagines#skz oneshots#minho imagines#minho smut#skz hard hours#skz dark hours#TAGS BETTER WORK THIS TIME ISTG
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