#hes still able to keep that air of authority and professionality around him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seospicybin · 6 months ago

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PROFESSIONAL COURTESY.

PART I

Felix x reader. (s,a)

Chapters: Prologue / Part II

Synopsis: Discovering that his new boss is someone he had one night stand with, Felix struggles to separate work life and personal business. And at times, finding himself mixing those two as he works under your dominance. (18,4k words)

Author's note: I had so much fun crafting the smut for this fic so please enjoy responsibly!

On that particular day, Felix wakes up feeling like a fucking champion, even the gloom of Monday morning doesn't faze him, not for a little bit.

He rides his bike to work, getting his usual cup of coffee first at the coffee shop downstairs before waiting for the elevator with the other employees in the building.

Remembering that he still has no one to report his duty to, Felix takes it easy, enjoying his coffee while waiting for the next elevator to arrive since the previous one is packed with people.

He knows he'll be late clocking in to work but the office is empty when he gets there. He looks around, looking for any clues as to where everyone is going and on the way to the meeting too, he bumps into one of the guys from the PR.

"Where is everyone?" He asks, scratching his head in confusion.

"The auditorium," he shortly answers while half jogging his way to the elevator.

Unconsciously, Felix follows him while tightly holding his coffee from spilling, "Why?"

He turns his head at him and gives him a judging gaze, "You didn't get the email?"

Almost a month working without a boss and Felix is already forgot how to do his job, even something as basic as checking his emails. He wouldn't be surprised if they decide to fire him.

"Uh... I think so," Felix stammers.

"The new Editor in Chief comes today," he informs, rushing go get into the elevator.

It hits him that it means he's getting a new boss and there's no more slacking around the office, he soon needs to check his work emails every damn second.

"Are you coming or...?" His colleague asks, holding the elevator door open for him.

Felix swallows air and nods, "Yes."

Even though there's a chance that he'd get fired today, Felix surprisingly doesn't feel worry at all.

Is it time to be worried? He knows he should come into your office and introduce himself but all Felix does is looking at you through the glass wall from his desk.

It's going to be awkward coming in there and tells you that the guy you had sex with a couple days ago is your assistant. But he can't keep avoiding it, it's either now or he can pack his stuff and finds another jobs.

Funny thing is he's not worried for himself, he worries about how you'd react to him and finding out that he's working for you.

What if you decided you don't want to work with someone you slept with? Worst thing is what if he got fired because of that sole reason?

Felix grits his teeth and just go for it, fixing his appearance on the reflection while hoping that you're not that petty of a person, firing him just because he has seen you naked, and more.

He checks through the glass window, seeing you standing behind your desk with one hand propped against it and the other hand is holding a file you're reading.

He draws a long, deep breath before walking up to the door of your office and knock on it. It's a scene he is once familiar with but it offers him a different kind of rush.

"Come in," you say without taking your eyes off the file you're reading.

He draws another long breath before turning the door handle and pushes the door inward, he has a courteous sets on his face when he walks in.

With the lacks of preparation, Felix ends up just standing in the middle of your office, blanking out. He has not yet decided how to act around you but certainly, he has to keep things professional.

For the first time, you lower the file you're holding just enough for your eyes to be able to look at him, "Yes?

Hearing your voice makes him nervous but there's this exhilarating feeling as well, like recognizing an old song that he hasn't listened in a long time.

"I'd like to personally welcome you and congratulate you as our new Editor in Chief," he starts, surprised himself with his own eloquence.

He notices that one of your eyebrows raised and you stop reading the file to put all of your attention on him.

"Thank you," you elegantly mutter.

"I'd also like to introduce myself. I'm Felix Lee and I am your... assistant," he says, couldn't believe himself for saying that.

You put down your file this time and look at him without anything blocking your sight.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," you say, pausing for a moment before ending the sentence by addressing his name, "Felix."

When he thought it only happens in movie, Felix is experiencing a coincidental thing like this in his life and it feels even more real after you called his name.

"You're working here," he blurts out, coming from deep within his consciousness.

You give him a perplexed look, "Yes."

"And you are my boss," he innocently remarks, not realizing that he's addressing the situation personally.

"Yes," you firmly answer.

"In other words, I work... under you," he makes another personal remark, along with a sly smile that forms on his small, angular face.

You slightly tilt yout head to the side and calmly answer, "Yes."

Instead of feeling nervous or scared, Felix feels excited that his smile grows wider on his face.

"I love my job," he mutters to himself. He doesn't mean for you to hear it but you seem to catch him talking.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," you say with an intense gaze aimed toward him.

Felix quickly gets a hold of himself and tells himself to wrap it up before he keeps making a fool out of himself. He quickly thinks of something to say to you.

"I said if you need anything, just call me," he manages to say without stammering.

"Will do," you shortly reply.

Before it gets too awkward than it already is, Felix takes a step back and awkwardly heads for the door. As he walks back to his head, he's rethinking of all the things he said to you inside.

"I work under you?" He quotes himself, couldn't believe that those words are coming out of his own mouth.

He crashes himself onto his seat and reclines, he runs his hands through his hair, feeling embarrassed for himself. Suddenly, the thought of getting fired seems like a lot better option for him.

"What a way to make a great first impression!" He scolds himself as he starts busying himself with work.

But is it called first impression when it's the second time he met you?

Two weeks later, Felix has a second thought. He doesn't love his job like he thought he would.

It's Friday night and he's still stuck in the office with you after countless hours of meeting. Now, he's on the way to the lobby to get both of your late dinner he ordered an hour ago.

His phone rings the second he exits the elevator, he picks it up while waving his hand to the food courier who has been waiting for him by the reception desk.

"Where are you, man? We've been waiting for you!" His friend says through the phone, skipping on greeting him first.

It's ironic that he used to wait for any chance to go out with his friends, and now, he completely forgot that he has a life outside of work. He's been busy working that having a time for himself is a luxury these days.

"I can't. I'm still at work," he answers while taking the bag of food from the courier.

"Dude, it's—" his friend pauses for a second, "It's past ten. Why are you still at work?"

"Tell me about it!" He groans into the phone, pushing the button to get the elevator with his elbow since his arms are busy holding things.

"Unless you're working at a strip club, I don't see why you need to be there that late," his friend delivers a valid point.

The first rule on assistant 101 is that the assistant can't leave before the boss so unless you tell him to go home, he's chained to his desk. But it's too much to explain to his friend, he wouldn't understand anyway.

"I have to skip tonight," he sighs into the phone, resting his back against the wall while waiting for the elevator to arrive.

"Let's meet sometime this weekend though," he quickly comes up with a solution.

He can hear his friend's sigh of disappointment but no one is more disappointed than him, he wants to go out tonight and have fun, but he simply can't.

"Yeah, okay, see you," his friend says with another sigh.

"Okay," Felix says back, standing on his feet as the elevator dings open.

"Take care, man," his friend hangs up first.

Felix shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans and then lets out a long sigh in the empty elevator that takes him back to the 8th floor while holding the bag of food close to his chest.

The office is dark because everyone else is already left and living their lives, unlike him. In his defense, he has a reason why he's still here but you, he wonders if you have a life outside of work.

These past two weeks, he's been watching you working non-stop. The first one to arrive but the last one to leave, and he doesn't know anything else about your life in those long work hours, except that you dedicate yourself to your work.

With the way you landed this job through connection, he understands that maybe you're trying to prove that you're not just filling the empty seat in the company.

It's actually kind of sad that people don't see how you've been handling everything after the company gotten hit with so many scandals and slowly helping the company back on its feet again.

He admires you for that but everyone knows that the Rome isn't built in a day and only God knows how long it takes to change people's perception about you.

Felix heads straight to the pantry to prepare the dinner for you, taking out the food, making them look presentable before taking it on a tray for you.

As he's about to enter your office, you come out carrying your bag in one hand and your blazer on the other. You stop on your track once you notice him lingering on the side of the doorway.

"Don't forget to book flights for tomorrow," you tell him, slipping your hand into your blazer as you speak.

He doesn't remember you're telling him to

"Excuse me, what?" He asks, not remembering that you told him to book flights earlier.

You turn to look at him, "It's in the email."

"What email?" He asks in confusion.

"The email I just sent you," you innocently answer like you did not just hear what you just said.

How did he knows about the email you just sent him a while ago? How can he check his emails when he's busy preparing dinner for you? But he realizes that your subordinate, all he does is obey your words.

He looks down at the food he set for you on a tray, "Then what about dinner?"

You give him a confounded look and swing your bag to the other hand, "What dinner?" You innocently ask like you didn't demand it an hour ago.

And you as his superior, you're always right, it's him who's doing his job wrong.

"Just get it done," you say to him, then turn to leave while Felix is standing there still holding a tray of food you didn't remember telling him to order.

He decides to bring it with him to his desk, checking his emails while filling his mouth with your forgotten dinner. He clicks on the email from you, skimming through most of the content and goes to the important part of it.

You mentioned about booking flights for you but not the part where he is also has to book flights for himself because he's coming with you.

It seems like he can't have fun this weekend too.

14 hours later, Felix lands in a different city, sleep-deprived and mentally exhausted. The invitation come with compliments to a 5-star hotel and it's such a shame that he'll probably don't have time to enjoy the over-the-top hotel facilities.

He generously tips the luggage porter because you brought a lot for a two days stay and makes sure everything is carefully placed in your room.

"Thank you," he mutters to the porter before closing the door.

He walks further into the suite, seeing you standing by the window while looking out at the view of the city.

"Do you want me to move the luggage to your bedroom?" He asks.

You slowly turn on your feet to look at him, "No, it's fine," you answer while unbuttoning your blazer.

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

You fold your blazer and place it on the headrest of the sofa, then takes a seat in the middle, "I want to have dinner before the match. Make a reservation in one of the restaurants in the hotel," you order.

Felix types it fast on his phone instead of using notebook, he never knows how many things you want him to do.

"There's French one. I prefer that," you quickly add, your hand reaches for your foot to take off your shoes one by one.

"French food. Got it," he types faster on his phone, then looks up at you, "Anything else?"

You lean on your seat and sitting there looking at him, "I'm going to rest the whole afternoon and you can come back here at 7 pm sharp."

"7 pm sharp," he repeats to himself.

"I don't like to be disturbed so don't come knocking unless it's urgent," you warn him.

He swallows air and types those words in big, red fonts, "Yes, ma'am."

You give him another look and draw a breathe, "You are dismissed."

Felix collects his duffel bag and not forgetting the 'Do no disturb' sign on the door handle before leaving your suite. He can't believe that he has five hours for himself, four precious hours. He goes to his room, makes a reservation at the French restaurant you wanted and sets alarm for 6.40 pm, not risking coming late to pick you up.

It only takes five minutes to get to your suite and he knows he's early but it's better than to be late.

You open the door after his third knock, already dressed in a black dress with a square neck with your hair styled in pretty waves, making him feel undressed in his dark slacks and white fitted shirt.

You keep the door open then walk back inside, you don't say anything but he knows you want him to follow you.

"Do you know who's covering the match?" You ask as you rummage through your bag for some.

Felix fumbles to check his phone, aggressively scrolling through the mails to find the one he's looking for.

"It's Drew and Alma," he answers, feeling satisfied in finding the names fast.

You take a necklace out of a box, walking over to the round mirror hangs on the wall to put it on, "Help me, will you?"

He shoves his phone into his slacks pocket and walks over to you, taking the necklace from your hand to do what you asked him to. You turn around to face the mirror as he carefully places the necklace around your neck, securely clasps it together and when he turns his head, your eyes meet through the mirror for a second.

You look away first and walk back to your bag again to take something else, "Dinner reservation?"

Felix hurriedly takes a step back to where he initially stands, "I already did a reservation for 7.30."

You stand in front of the mirror to apply a fresh coat of lipstick, oddly enough, it makes him uncomfortable, in a way that it feels like he's not allowed to look but he does it anyway.

"Coat," you say to him, gesturing him to take the coat off the hanger.

He immediately goes for it, holding the coat for you so you can easily put it on without a hassle. He almost helps you with your hair as well but you get to it first.

It's the boxing match of the year, most of the hotel guests are also coming to witness it, but you came because of a personal invitation. He doesn't know from who but he's grateful that he get to witness it from the best seats in the house.

You arrive as the opening match has just ended and as the show continues with commentary on the opening match, you walk around to greet the other guests.

Felix recognizes some of the faces, whether they're famous because he has seen them on TV or they're important people in the industry he works in.

"This is my assistant, Felix Lee," you never forget to include hin whenever you introduce yourself to someone and he feels so acknowledged for that. It's also a great chance to make connections within the industry.

You also make time to meet the journalists covering the match for the company, talking a few things in between and takes some pictures after.

Nothing much happened for the rest of the event, but Felix makes sure to snap a few pictures, sending them to his friends just to make them jealous. Busy replying to their salty messages, Felix doesn't notice that you're already getting up after the match result is announced.

"Come on. Time to leave," you tell him, rushing him to get up from his seat.

He guesses you want to leave before everyone is flooding the exit, he keeps following you as you make your way out of the hall and back to the lobby.

You start running toward something... or someone who seems to have been waiting for you by the hotel's fountain park.

"I didn't see you in there," you say, coming up to a girl with blond hair and fancy dressing.

"Not in a million years you'll find me watching a boxing match," she replies with a groan of disgust.

"But shouldn't you in there? I mean..."

"I let them have a boxing match in my hotel just to please my dad," she coyly says as if she didn't just say she owns the hotel.

That explains a lot of things, the invitation and the hotel, she must be the one who invited you, his curiosity is finally answered.

After a while, your friend finally acknowledges him, "Who's that?"

You look over your shoulder at him, oblivious to his presence until she asks about him, "It's my assistant."

"Oh?" She gasps in a rather curious way, she looks at him and offers her hand at him, "I'm Suze."

It's one of the things that astounded him, he always thought that rich people are too good for themselves but that's not the case with you, you can be very demanding at time but respectful? Always and so to other people. Or maybe he hasn't find decent rich people until today to know that.

Felix hurriedly takes Suze's hand and shakes it, "Felix."

"You know it's the only way I could see you," you tell her.

He doesn't know what you mean by that but he sees that Suze understands it right away, she comes to your side and links her arm with you.

"Come on. I'll show you where the real party is!" She says, taking you with her and Felix can only trail behind you like a lost puppy.

The club must be super exclusive and strictly private because he sees not many people in there but everyone is having real good time, enjoying their expensive liquors in their booths and generously tipping the strippers working the poles.

Everyone knows who is Suze as they know where to sit her, preparing the best spot in the club for her and not asking everything but to bring bottles of her favorite.

She starts with glasses of prosecco and hands Felix the first drink, once everyone get their drinks, she initiates a toast. He suddenly feels like intruding the girl's night for joining you and your friend so he plans on staying on the other end of the curved sofa to at least, give you some privacy to talk.

"Come here, darling," you call the stripper who happens to walk past the booth.

She comes up to you and stretches her hand at you, "Do you want a dance?"

You take her hand and hold it, "What's your name, gorgeous?"

"Ivy," she replies with a seductive smile.

"Gorgeous Ivy, I want you to give my man there a good time," your head makes a gesture at Felix.

Ivy turns her head at him, already getting in on her action by waving her hand and making eyes at him.

You turn to grab your purse and takes some cash from it, folding it in half, before slipping it in the strap of his white underwear.

"Go easy on him, okay, doll?" You tell her with your hand rests on the side of the thigh.

"Consider it done, honey," she says to you with a quick caress on your cheek.

This exchange between you and the stripper feels like a dream to him, something that is hard for him to perceive as reality. Until Ivy comes to do what you asked her to do, giving him a good time.

However, Felix finds his focus split between enjoying the dance Ivy is giving him or the talk you're having with Suze. He couldn't hear much through the music blasting in the room but he catches glimpses of it.

"...what your family did this time, making you handle the mess..." Suze sighs with smoke billowing out of her mouth.

"They made me. I have to, I have no options or else, they'll take everything from me," you tell her with eyes looking down at your glass of drink.

Suze lights up another cigarette right away and takes a quick drag, "Maybe they're just bluffing. Remember when my family made me stay at that mental retreat thing? They did that just to give me a lesson," she coyly says.

You shake your head and run your hand through your hair, making it disheveled, "I don't think so. I really struck their nerves this time. Big time," you emphasize those words with a heavy sigh.

"Why did you do it in the first place? Why upset them?"

"Because..." you pause to take a sip of your drink and after swallow it down, you continue speaking, "because I want to be free."

"You know we don't really have that much say on who we're going to marry, it's all set in stone," Suze shrugs despite how depressing she sounded, "All we can do is... accept it."

"It's not just about who I want to marry. Heck! I don't even know if I want to get married, I just want to live my life however I want," you say with a distressed sigh, taking a big gulp of your drink after.

"Just marry him and I'm sure they'll leave you alone," Suze simply resolves.

"I don't want to marry him. I don't love him," you argue, sounding desperate as you said it.

"People like us don't do that," Suze remarks, parting her mouth open to let out the curls of white smoke.

"What?" You ask.

"Love."

You suddenly get quiet and stare down at your drink, then a while later, finishing it in one long sip, you don't even wince at the bitter aftertaste.

"Fuck, it's getting bleak, let's have more drink!" She says, putting her cigarette away to break open a new bottle of liquor.

She then calls for another dancer to dance on the pole in the middle of the booth and throwing money at her at ease like those papers that gathered on the table doesn't worth months of rents but all that money is not enough to make you happy.

All that money and you can't afford something as simple as love.

Felix manages to not get drunk but what surprised him is how you manage to stay sober after drinking that much. You walk steadily and in straight line in your high heels, the only problem is you can't find the keycard in your purse.

"Let me help you," Felix offers, waiting for you to hand him his purse so he can search it for you.

You have it tucked between your wallet and he hurriedly open the door to your suite, keeping the door open for you. Without waiting for you, he pours a glass of water for you and next to the pitcher of water, he sees that someone has sent a bottle of champagne into your room.

He also notices there's a card that comes with it but before he can read it, you snatch it and throw it straight into the bin.

"Can you check what we wrote on the match result?" You tell him, pulling the bottle of champagne out of the bucket of ice.

"Yes, sure, give me a second," he pulls his phone out of his slacks and opens the webpage to Sports One, it's not hard to look for the article it's the top of the page.

"Read it to me," you order.

But he sees that you're struggling to open the wine, "I can help you with—"

"Read it to me," you repeat your words to him.

Felix better not make you repeat for the third time, so he starts reading the article out loud while you pour yourself some wine, drinking it the first one in one go and refill it again.

"Do you want some?" You suddenly interrupt him in the middle of him reading the article.

"No, thank you," he politely refuses.

"Just one drink," you coax with the glass is already in your hand.

"Okay," he caves in, putting away his phone to receive the glass of wine from you.

But instead of that, you sit on his lap and drink all the wine yourself. Using your thumb, you pull open his mouth and slowly, pouring the wine straight from your mouth.

After so many things that happened tonight, he doesn't expect another thing to happen again but here he is, opening his mouth for you and swallowing the wine you feed him.

Felix finds himself in a situation he once was in and he gets a sense of deja vu.

You wipe the drop of wine escaping the corner of his mouth with your thumb and hold his jaw as you look at him.

"I wonder if you can make it better again," you mutter with those eyes filled with sorrow.

Whatever it is you're going through, he wants to take it away from you or at least, makes you forget about it, even for a fleeting moment. He doesn't know if he can make it better but he can try, and he's willing to try.

Felix decides to take his chance and says, "Yes."

Felix meets a different you tonight, not the one who's been bossing him around for the past two weeks but also not the one he met on that eventful night.

The one he's meeting right now is simply a girl who seeks a solace in him and he gives everything in him to give you that.

He kisses you with his hands tenderly holding the side of your face while you're tearing open his shirt so you can roam your hands on his body.

He tilts your head to the side and cupping your face in one hand while the other is groping the your back, looking for the zipper of your dress. You eventually guide his hand to the side of your body where the zipper actually is.

The ripping sound of your zipper being part open is echoing in the room and he slowly pulls the sleeve of your dress, not wasting any second to place a soft kiss on your shoulder. He then drags his lips across your collarbone before pulling the dress down, revealing your body and the matching underwear you're wearing underneath.

He makes a trail of kisses down the front of your body even though he has to drop to his knees, he looks up at you as he kneels in front of you with his hands on each side of your hips.

He presses his lips against your abdomen and softly mutters, "You're so beautiful."

You slip your hand into his hair and tenderly gaze into his brown eyes as he places another long peck on your lower abdomen.

Felix continues his trail of his kisses to the side, placing little kisses down your thigh. To give him more access, he lifts your leg and put it on his shoulder so he can easily plant his mouth on your clothed sex.

"Oh," you loudly moan the second his hot breathe penetrate through the flimsy fabric of your underwear.

That only encourages him to open his mouth wider to take more of you, using his tongue to trace your folds and then gently suck on your bundle of nerves.

You grip his shoulder for support as he continues his delicious assault on you, until your underwear is soaked wet with a mix of your essence and his saliva.

Seeing that you getting a little imbalance from standing on one foot, he hurriedly gets up and wrapped you in his arms again. He kisses you deeply and passionately, in one swift move, he lifts you off your feet and carries you to bed. He then carefully lay you down and hovers above you.

You take the chance to remove his shirt and toss it away, then pull him for a kiss, a kiss that seems to you is more essential than breathing.

As kisses being exchanged between your lips and his, pieces of clothing are taken off until there's nothing left on both of your bodies. It's his skin rubbing against your skin, creating heat that sends the temperature rising and keep on rising.

Felix takes his wallet out of the back pocket before letting the slacks drops onto the floor, taking the foil packet from one of the compartments.

He takes a moment to concentrate on putting on protection, sitting on the end of the bed and slowly rolls the rubber down his stiff cock. Once he makes sure he puts it on properly, he joins you as you sit with your legs open on the bed.

Felix crashes his lips against yours again while his hand dives into your wetness. He slowly pulls away to take a breath in between kisses and about to kiss you again when you suddenly back away, the first thought that crosses his mind is he does something wrong.

"What is... what's wrong?" He stammers, licking his lips in confusion.

"I have one condition," you tell him.

That's a relief to know that it's not about him at all but he gets curious to find out what's that one condition and why you choose now to tell him.

"Okay," he says with a faltering eyes.

You grab his chin and bring his face close enough that your warm breath fanning his lips, "You can't stop until I tell you to."

You lay your hand flat on his chest, tilting your head to the side and gently nibble on his lower lip, "Get it?"

Felix can't back out now, not when he's all aroused and his cock is swollen and throbs to be inside you, and his focus is easily swayed by your hand that is lightly caressing his abs.

You tilt his head and force him to look at you, "I can't hear you, baby."

He hasn't said anything but it's obvious that you demand a verbal answer from him, whether he agrees to the one condition or not.

"Yes," he hastily replies before you take his silence as refusal.

"Yes," he says again with a repeated nod.

You reward his obedience with a deep kiss on his lips and pull away with a smile on your face, then you roll over to lay on your stomach and part your legs open for him, exposing your gushing entrance to him.

Felix swallows hard at the visual that makes his cock twitches between his legs.

You slowly look over your shoulder at him and catch him just looking at you with wide and lustful eyes. You take his hand and put it on your waist.

"Lie on top of me," you instruct.

He does what you ask, positioning himself between your legs then slowly, laying himself on top of you. His elbow propped against the mattress to keep himself from crushing you.

"Mmh... oh," you moan into his mouth as your lips collides in a rapturous kiss once more. You're guiding his hand to your breast so he can fondle at it while he keeps kissing you.

After a moment, you grip his forearm and mutters, "I don't think I can wait anymore."

He kisses your open mouth, "Yeah?"

"Put that beautiful cock inside me now," you say in a very casual manner like you didn't just make him wait a long time to do that.

Felix takes a moment just to prepare himself, making a trail of kisses down your spine and stopping as his lips land on your ass cheek. He's kneading on it, feeling your ample flesh that mold into his hand and finally, slides his fingers down to your wetness.

You're so hot and wet, and you're jutting your ass up for him, ready to take him. Oh, he can't find anything sexier than this.

Felix can't wait for another second, he wants you, his body is aching for you so he aims the tip of his cock into your entrance and slowly, sinking himself into you.

He can't hear himself moaning but he can hear yours, low and hoarse with your hands crumpling the sheet under you.

"Oh, my... so good," you hum into your pillow.

Felix lies onto your back again, giving you the closeness that you seek. He kisses you along your shoulders, your neck and up to your neck, and ultimately, your lips that endlessly offering him the sweet taste of your kiss, all while rocking his hips himself into you at a steady pace.

"Harder, harder," you demand while grabbing his hand that rests next to your hand.

It's taking everything in him not to come, he doesn't want to disappoint you by not following the one condition you set for him. He can't stop because you and you're nowhere close to tell him to stop.

The sounds of his hips slapping against your ass is making him losing his mind, along with the faith he has for himself that he can adhere to your one condition.

As if you sense it that his conviction is waning, you intertwine your hand with his and whine, "Don't stop! Don't stop!"

Felix takes a deep breathe while keeping the motion of his hips going, relentless thrusting himself into you while actively telling his brain not to shoot his load yet.

"You're so deep, oh... I can feel you everywhere," you whine, pulling him close by the neck to kiss him.

The kiss breaks as you loudly moan and your eyes are screwed shut, overwhelmed by the pleasure of his cock hitting you right on the spot repeatedly.

"Keep going, oh..." the rest of your sentence is incoherent ot his brain is clouded with lust to be able to process it.

Felix puts all of him into it, his strength and the last shred of sanity that still clung to him, he doesn't care that he's growling like a hungry animal.

It's when you start pushing back against him, he knows that you're both close. A few thrusts later, you both collapse onto the bed as waves of pleasure washing over you.

As for Felix, he feels exceptionally relieved, he got his release and the satisfaction that he successfully kept his promise to you.

The first thing you both do after gained your senses back is to search for each other's lips and locked it together in a breathless kiss.

"I hope you have another condom in your wallet," you mutter to him.

He stiffens against your kiss, bamboozled by what you said. He looks at you and you look back into his eyes.

Softly, you grab his chin and swipe your thumb across his lips, "You can't stop until I tell you, remember?"

It's almost like Felix is repeating that day he first met you. He is in a hotel room, the bed is empty when he woke up and he's naked under the cover. He looks around to confirm that he really spent another night with you again.

However, this time is different. The previous time, you were a mere stranger to him but now, you are his boss and that changes things between you and him.

You're his boss but also someone he's casually having sex with? It does sounds sexy when he puts it that way but this complicates things.

There's a knock on the door and Felix takes that as his cue to leave before you can catch him. He's scrambles to find all of his clothes that scattered on the floor, starting by putting his underwear and his slacks next.

As he works to zip his fly, you appear on the doorway of the bathroom with your hair and skin glistening wet.

"That must be breakfast. Can you get it?" You casually say to him while tying the belt on your bathrobe.

"Yes, sure," he reflexively answers because it seems like its his default now to say yes to everything you said.

Without putting his shirt on first, Felix heads to the door to open it and it's indeed the breakfast you ordered. He lets the hotel staff serves the food on the small dining table and waits until the staff leaves to makes his leave as well.

However, you catch him before he can make his moves, "Coffee?" you offer while lifting the coffee pot to fill a cup.

"Uh... yes," he stammers.

You fill the other cup for him and then turns your head at him, "Aren't you going to sit or...?"

Aware that he's half-naked, he keeps hugging himself and covering his bare chest with his hands as he takes a seat on the opposite of the dining table from you.

"I don't know what you want so I ordered most of everything," you say, carefully taking a sip of your steaming hot coffeee.

That explains the various selections of breakfast laid out in front of him. Not waiting for you to tell him what to do, Felix reaches for the plate of toast and takes a piece, lathering it with butter to finally taking a bite of it while you opt for a bowl of fruits.

Suddenly, this feels normal, you and him having breakfast together on a peaceful Sunday morning.

"The blueberries are nice," you casually say while shoving a blueberry into your mouth.

He's not sure if you're just making a remark or suggesting it to him, but it feels wrong to not responding, "Yeah?"

"Mmh," you reply with a nod.

"Maybe I should try some," he says, getting comfortable talking in a casual manner to you.

Another cup of coffee later, you switch to orange juice, sipping it while reading something on your phone.

"What time is our flight again?"

Felix has to rake his brain to get an answer for you, "I'm sure it's at 3.15," he tells you.

You check the time and nod, "Then we can check out after lunch," you say.

"Do you want to reserve a table for lunch? At one of the hotel restaurants?"

"No, it's fine."

His brain is trained to record everything you said as he knows you don't like having to repeat your orders to him.

"Alright," he responds with a nod while listing everything in his head.

You look up from your phone and look him in the eyes, "You're free for the rest of the morning. You can come pick me up at 1 pm."

Now, he takes that as his cue to leave and time to get back to reality. He finishes his cup of coffee and gets up from his chair.

"I'll get everything prepared," he says.

He goes to the bedroom to pick up the rest of his clothes and putting them on, not forgetting his wallet that somehow ended up lying under the bed.

He knows he has say something to you before leaving the room, "I'll excuse myself."

You put down your glass and prop a hand under your chin, "Felix?"

He makes a 180 turns and looks at you, "Yes?"

"Keep in mind that you're working for me so when you come back here, we're going to act professional," you tell him with a rather assertive tone.

Felix knows well that it's not a request or a command, it's how things should be and he agrees that he should be able to keep these two things separated.

"Are we clear?" You ask for confirmation.

"Crystal," he shortly replies.

A week later, Felix finds it easy to keep those two things separate when his personal life is almost nonexistent and you keep things strictly business.

It's almost like that night never happened and that version of you seems like a distant memory to him now along with the one he first met that night, the girl who walked into the hotel barefooted.

The version of you he's having now is the workaholic and it's fitting since it's the busiest time at Sports One office, everyone is busy preparing the annual issue.

The main focus is the exclusive interview with the golf legend, David Kent and you carry the most important task of all that is to write it.

Felix has been struggling to keep up with everything, his eyes never stray away from the computer screen, scanning through emails and responding to them as fast as he could.

Before something else pops up on the computer screen, he rushes to the pantry to make himself another cup of coffee to keep functioning.

"I've never seen you worked this hard," Yoon appears from behind him as usual.

"Not today, Yoon!" He stops her before she continues dragging him down the gloomy path.

"Okay. Fair enough," she says, taking a paper cup from the pile and fills it with coffee.

He only left for a few minutes to peacefully enjoy his coffee but when he comes back, he finds you standing behind his desk, going through his computer.

Hearing his footsteps, you glance up and glare at him, "Why aren't you on your desk?"

He's never heard you this upset and tense, he knows he should answer you properly, "I was getting coffee but I—"

"My office!" You cut him off and trudge your way into your office.

You never cut him off, ever so this only means that you're not upset, you're furious about something and he doesn't know what is it. He's just standing there flummoxed, wondering what got him into this situation.

You appear from the doorway of your office and glare at him, "My office. Now!"

Oh, no, Felix just made you repeat your words again so he wastes not another second to get into your office and closes the door before standing in front of you, ready to face the music.

"Is there something—"

"On the schedule, it says that the second interview with Mr. Kent is today at 4pm," you say with your jaws clenched.

He knows your schedule by heart so he nods to confirm, "Yes."

"Then why did I get a call from his assistant telling me that he has left for Japan?" You lean forward on the desk and intensely staring into his eyes.

Flabbergasted, Felix lets out an awkward chuckle and says, "But that doesn't make sense. They can't just reschedule without informing us first."

"They actually sent an email about the reschedule to you."

His palms start to sweat so he rubs them down the side of his jeans, "The last time we corresponded was about the questions for the interview."

"I checked your emails and it's there. I even saw that you read it but didn't forward it to me," you're not only refuting his words but also catching his errors.

"I would have known if they sent me the email, I would have—"

"It was sent last night at 8.23pm to be exact," you come with a definite answer.

Fuck! Yesterday, he was busy running around the office and preparing meetings while at the same time, busy calling the clients for you. He may have skipped through the email without he intended to which makes him responsible to this.

You shift to one side of your chair and give him a judging look, "You know what Felix, you could have prevented it from happening."

He starts to sweat all over knowing that his job is on the line but it's strange that what he hates the most is making you disappointed in him, and probably, the whole office too since it's the exclusive interview.

"You could have doublechecked everything and confirm it with his assistant..." you pause to let out a sigh, then you snidely smile at him and continue, "But you didn't."

He makes this mess therefore he has to clean it up, he quickly thinks of something to solve this, and he'll give everything in him to take responsibility.

"I'll do anything to make up for it. I'm sure we can make a new appointment or..." he's stuttering, conveying a few solutions to the issue.

"Didn't you hear what I said?" You say with a calm yet piercing tone, "He left for Japan an hour ago."

He has to wait until he lands so he can try and arrange a new meeting. Even if he did manage to secure an appointment, he has to fly to Japan for the interview and that takes more time, and it's only days away from the release of the annual issue.

In other words, there's nothing he can do to fix it.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Felix," you say as you press your fingers to your temple.

"I've been working with you for more than a month now and I was right about my first impression on you, you don't have what it takes for the job."

There's a lump forming in his throat but the more he swallows, the more it's clogging his windpipe, making it hard for him to breath.

"But I told myself to give you the benefit of the doubt and well, you did the job in which we paid you for, an adequate assistant."

His hands are trembling so he clasps them together to not let you see them while continously listening to you even though every word you said are rather sharp and hurt him in places.

"And now, I'm not sure that you're still an adequate assistant," you finish your sentence with a heavy sigh.

His jaws are clenched and unclenched, he's mad but not at you. He's mad at himself and he deserves to hear every word you said.

But he'd rather have you screamed and called him stupid than have you just quietly sitting there and looking at him in profound disappointment.

After a moment passes in agonizing silence, you pick up your phone and start scrolling to find something,

"You're dismissed," you bitterly say to him.

Felix doesn't want to back down without, at least, offering his help to fix the mess he made.

"I'm sure I can help you with something," his voice deepens, heavy with resentments.

You look up from your phone and look at him again, "What you can do now is reconsider whether you want to keep doing this job or not."

That feels like a hard slap on his face and he knows he's not welcomed here anymore. He gives you a nod to excuse himself out of your office since he can't seem to mutter any words without getting emotional.

With heavy steps, he walks back to his desk and collapses onto his chair. It seems like no one knows what just happened in your office and that's good, he wants to wallow about everything by himself.

He roughly runs his hands through his hair and leans back on his chair, the deep breathe he took are not helping to lessen the tightness in his chest.

He's thinking about what you said to him, replaying everything in the back of his head and he hates himself more for that. Moreover, he did what you asked him to do, reconsider whether he wants to keep his job or not.

One thing becomes clear to him, he's truly unfit for the job.

He rolls his chair toward his desk, opens his computer and starts working on his resignation letter.

The next day, you're not coming to the office.

Usually, you would have notified him about it so in case a client asks for you, he knows what to say. It seems like you're no longer consider him as your assistant.

Felix should be glad because that means you're expecting him to quit his job so handing you the resignation letter wouldn't be a surprise to you.

Since he's still employed, he continues his job, answering emails and taking calls for you, explaining your absence as much as he could to whoever asked to speak to you.

"Heard you messed up yesterday," Yoon appears from behind his computer this time.

Of course, Yoon knows about it and won't pass the chance to celebrate his downfall with a fake, emphatic smile.

"No need to say it, I know," she says, stopping him from answering it.

Felix doesn't have the energy to deal with her so he lets her dancing on his misery while he mindlessly reading something on his computer.

"Do you know why she's not coming to the office today?" Yoon curiously asks.

He wants to make up something but she'd know that he's lying so he decides not to even try, "I don't know."

"Well, I know," she says with a bragging smile.

"And I don't want to know," he hastily responds, but he's not really mean it. He actually wants to know why you're not coming to the office and if it has anything to do with him.

Yoon comes into his desk and sits on the edge while hugging a bunch of files close to her chest, "I'm going to let you know anyway," she says.

He pretends not to care about it and keeps his focus on the article that he's not reading at all.

Yoon leans to his side and whispers, "That's because she's in Japan."

He stays unbothered even though he's been trying to read the same paragraph over and over again.

"Not only that someone got her another appointment with Mr. David Kent but also lent her his private jet to take her straight to Japan," Yoon adds, sounding excited to tell him that.

Without looking, Felix knows Yoon is seeking any reactions from him but he's not going to give her the satisfaction.

"I did my own research and I kind of figured who that generous person is..." she says while nodding her head, then she lets out a chuckle, "But I'm not going to tell you that because you don't care."

Felix almost turns his head and glares at her for not telling him about the mysterious guy doing all the extra efforts for you.

Yoon hops off his desk and goes around his desk, "You know what? I'll tell you about it later," she teasingly says just to annoy him.

She starts walking then stops after a few steps, she turns around to look at him, "That if you didn't get fired by the end of the day," she makes a snide remarks with a laugh that echoing behind her as she walks away.

Felix is not getting fired, he chooses to resign from his position. Knowing that you won't be back soon and he doesn't want to wait the whole weekend to prolong the pain, he decides to put his resignation letter on your desk before he leaves today.

When he gets back to his desk and grabs his backpack full of his things, his heart gets heavy. He believes it's not coming from knowing that he's losing the job but knowing that the last impression he made on you is not a pleasant one.

The worst thing is that would be the last time Felix saw you.

Felix shouldn't think much about it but he keeps guessing what your reaction would be when you found his resignation letter on your desk.

Surprised? Not likely.

Angry? If it's the way he delivers his resignation letter then yes, you'd be likely angry.

Sad? Definitely not. He won't even dare to think that you feel the slightest bit of sad about him leaving.

It's Saturday night and instead of going out to fully enjoy his freedom, he stays in and mope around, making himself miserable in each passing hour.

The knocks on the door are so faint that he thinks he's imagining it. He doesn't order food but maybe he did and forgot about it.

"Coming!" He shouts toward the door as the knocks come again.

He opens the door with zero expectations and finds you standing there, he has to take a double take to make sure that it's really you.

"Hi," you greet with a smile.

Felix got used to seeing you in your formal attire of shirts and tight skirts, but now you're dressed casually in a simple blouse and blue jeans.

"Hey," he innocently greets back and it feels strange saying that to you.

"Am I welcomed or should I leave?" You ask as he just stands there looking at you in bewilderment.

"You may come in," he says, awkwardly stepping to the side to let you in.

You step in, clasping your purse on one side while looking around his place as you step further, "It's a nice house."

That's kind of you to say so when you can see how untidy the place is, Felix rushes to collect the dirty laundry scattering out of the laundry basket and puts all the dirty dishes into the sink.

"Thank you," he sheepishly says then notices the mess on the table.

You end up putting down your expensive looking bag on the sofa and stand there looking at him, "May I sit down?"

"Yes, of course, please, sit down, please," he realizes he's acting stupid when he's the owner of the house therefore it's his duty to treat his guest well.

"Can I offer you a drink?" He asks, finding it easy to ask that to you, "Coffee, juice, beer...?"

Why would he offers you beer? You're not one of his male friends, you're a classy lady who drinks wine and can tell the difference between cabernet and burgundy.

"Water is fine," you answer.

"Water, okay," he foolishly repeated out loud. He can hear you lowly chuckling at that and he hurriedly turns around to get you a glass of water.

"Thank you," you mutter your gratitude as he hands you your glass of water and not hesitate to take a small sip.

Felix sits on the smaller sofa across from you and the question finally gets to him: Why did you come here? But he can't just directly ask you that, that's rude.

"Are you living with a housemate?" You curiously ask.

It seems like you notice the other room in the house, "Yes, but he's studying abroad so now it's just me."

"Oh," you respond with a small nod.

Then again, he's the owner of the house, he has the right to ask your intention of why you came here. He carefully picks his words before saying them to you and—

"Do you mind if we order dinner? The last meal I had was on the flight back home," you ask, taking out your phone from your purse, "I'm a little hungry right now."

He refrains from asking and getting up from the sofa, "Not at all. I have a few restaurants numbers here if you..." his words trailing off as he realizes he's babbling again and waddling to the restaurant flyers stuck to the door of his fridge.

"What would you like to eat for dinner?"

Felix once again gets the feeling that this is normal, you and him having dinner together on his small dining table. He's not eating with the girl he works for but a girl who wholeheartedly eating her food and enjoying every bite of it.

After dinner, you offered to wash the dishes but he strongly refused, so now you wander around the house with a can of cold beer in hand and he can't comprehend it. How is it real?

With the silence that settles into the space, he takes this as an opportunity to ask you the reason why you came here. He stands in the middle of the room and slightly leans against the back of the sofa.

"Can I ask you something?" He boldly asks.

You turn around from scanning his shelf full of figurines, "I'm not coming here as your boss if that's what you're asking," you say, playing with one of the figurines.

Maybe that's what his question should be: who are you coming here as? As his boss or...?

"And what you're coming here as?" He asks, genuinely curious with your answer.

You calmly put back the figurine to where it belongs and look at him, "As someone you're casually having sex with," you answer.

So you did acknowledge those two instances and not forgetting them as they were, somehow, he feels a little flustered by the way you put it bluntly like that.

You're slowly making your way to him and each footsteps echoing in the room, making his heart pounding faster and faster.

You stop just one step away from him, "Which brings me to a question," you say.

"Yeah?" His deep voice drops lower without he intending to.

"Can I stay the night over?"

What is it about you that makes him wants to do anything you ask, it's like his default settings to always submit to your wishes. The next thing he knows, you're borrowing his clothes to sleep in.

He's making the bed for you when you come out of the bathroom in his t-shirt that is too big on you and his eyes wander down only to see that you ditch the pants he's lending you.

"The pants is too big," you inform him as you fold your clothes and put the neat pile on top of his dresser.

"You can sleep here and I'll take the couch," he says as he finishes changing the bedsheets.

"Why?" You ask in a rather sad tone.

"I don't think you'd be comfortable sharing the bed with me," he simply answers.

"We had sex twice. I'm sure we're more than comfortable sharing the bed together," you say, climbing onto the bed and getting under the cover.

You're so straightforward and a little too honest, people may mistaken that for rudeness but no to him, he finds it endearing instead.

"Come on! I hate sleeping alone," you entice him by patting the space next to you.

Felix hates how obedient he is to you like he has no power to say no to you, he gets onto the bed and awkwardly lays down next to you.

You take his arm out so you can rest your head on it and you mold yourself to the side of his body, then rest your hand on his chest.

"This is so much better," you hum as you close your eyes.

His heart beats faster inside his chest and he believes you can hear it too but as the moment passes in comfortable silence, he finds himself getting cozy cuddling you, he allows his hand to play with your hair and rests it on your shoulder.

"That day at the office..." you murmur close to his neck.

His eyes snap open at the mention of that day but he remains calm, "Mmh?"

You tilt your head and look at him, "Want to talk about it?"

"I don't know," he honestly says, he hates to ruin this bubble of comfort by talking about it.

You gently hold his chin and turn his head to make him look at you, "I want you to know that what I said... I was being objective toward your job. It has nothing to do with this."

What you're doing is making sure he's not mixing everything up, thinking that you're being personal about his job when in fact, you don't and he's well aware of that.

"I know," he says.

"Then why you seem so mad at me?" You ask with sad eyes.

"I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at myself for disappointing you," he admits, and it feels easy to tell you about it in this setting.

"Oh, baby," You coo, caressing his cheek as you softly gaze into his eyes, "So what are you going to do now?"

"I need to try harder and prove to you that I can be more than adequate at my job," he confidently tells you with a smile.

You place a sweet kiss on his cheek and smile, "And you will."

He doesn't even know where he gets the confidence from but he feels it and it's overflowing, he suddenly feels invincible and nothing is impossible to him.

With the confidence surging all over his body, he leans in and kisses you. From the way you kiss him back and opening your mouth for him, he can tell you want it as much as him. Your hand slips under his t-shirt, running it up his chest and down to his abdomen, trailing the outline of his abs.

"Let me make you feel better, mmh?" You say against his lips and slide your hand down to the waistband of his sweatpants.

Felix already feels hot all over even though your hand hasn't made any contact with his hardening member yet. You tease him by running your hand around his inner thighs, cupping his clothed member and stroke it.

"Oh, mmh..." he moans against your mouth, almost growling when you pull his sweatpants down just enough to let his erection sprung free.

"You're so hard," you mutter to him with a sly smile. You break the kiss to look down and see your hand wrapped around his swollen cock.

Felix can't help but look down as well, watching you feeling every inch of his length with your fingers and using your thumb to tease the tip of his cock.

"So hot," you sigh with your hot breath brushing his ear.

He turns his head to meet your lustful gaze and pulls you into a kiss, a kiss that takes things further as your hand moves at a steady pace, stroking his length and giving just the right pressure to please him.

"Faster?"

He repeatedly nods with a needy whimper that escapes his parted mouth.

You pick up the pace, pumping his cock faster than before while continously placing slobbering kisses on his lips and neck.

"You like that?" You ask with your heavy breathing fanning his neck.

"Yeah," he breathlessly answers.

Sensing that he's getting there, you keep a steady pace and the intensity of your grip around his cock. To help him getting closer to his release, you also keep murmuring words into his ear.

"You're getting bigger in my hand."

"You're going to cum for me, right?"

"Make a mess in my hand, mmh?"

Felix's eyes are fluttering shut as he gets closer to his high, his legs are shaking and his cock is twitching in your hand. You're just too good at this, tirelessly pumping his cock just to get him to his—

"Oh, oh, oh..." a series of moans slipping out of his mouth as he cums.

You don't stop but rather slowing down your pumping as pearly white of his cum spurting out of the tip of his cock and dripping down his length and your hand.

"Oh, fu..." he can't even finish his word, he's overwhelmed with pleasure that washes over him in ebbs and flows.

You press a kiss on his neck and a longer one on his jaw, he turns his head slightly to the side, offering his lips for you to kiss next.

The kiss tastes much sweeter, making him crave for it that he crashes his lips on you again. You let go first yet hold his face close.

"Feel better now?"

Felix smiles at you and answers, "A lot better."

Everyone likes eggs, right? But he doesn't know how do you like your eggs is the problem. Scrambled? Sunnyside up? Boiled? Poached? Or you know, one of those fancy egg dishes.

What is it called? Egg Benedict? He searches how to cook it on the internet and gives up completely after finding out how.

He decides to settle with the simplest and one that he can cook it best, scrambled eggs with toast and a steaming mug of coffee, two creams and no sugar just how you like it.

He puts the breakfast on the tray and cautiously carrying it to the bedroom. He pushes the door with his foot, doing it quietly not to startle you.

Felix finds you still sleeping basked with the sunlight that comes through the window, creating a hazy glow around you and he couldn't find it in him to wake you up.

However, he can't let the breakfast get cold considering that he puts a lot of effort into it. He starts by sitting on the edge of the bed and hesitantly places his hand on your shoulder.

He rubs your arm and then gently squeezes your shoulder, "Hey," he sweetly murmurs.

Not enough to wake you up, he tries again by cupping your jaw in his hand, "Hey, wake up."

Slowly and beautifully, your eyes are fluttering open and warmly looking at him. You take your time to gather your senses and rub the sleep off your eyes.

"Good morning," he mutters with an affectionate pat on your head.

"Morning," you reply with a hoarse voice, and slowly getting up to sit with your back against the headboard of the bed, "I smell coffee."

With a proud smile, he presents you a tray full of breakfast he made for you, he carefully sets it on the space between him and you on the bed.

"You made these?" You ask as you tuck your hair behind your ears.

"What's with the tone of surprise?" He playfully responds.

You softly laugh and decide to start with a small sip of coffee, letting the caffeine helps you waking up from the inside.

"I hope you like it," he says, putting the cutlery close to your hand.

You waste no time to dig into the breakfast, taking a bite of the toast and then followed with a forkful of scrambled egg.

"This is delicious," you compliment him.

You take a piece of toast and feed it to him, "I think we should eat it together."

Starting the day by having breakfast together on bed with you feels exceptionally special and he wants to keep this beautiful feeling for as long as he could. An idea crosses his head but he's not sure you'd go along with it.

"The weather is nice," he says as he tears into another piece of toast.

You look toward the window and nod, "Yeah, it's sunny and nice."

"What do you think about going on a ride with me?" He sheepishly asks.

"On your bike?" You ask.

He doubts that you'd say yes because the last time you got onto his bike, you were holding on for dear life, but he nods to answer your question.

You take a sip of your coffee before coming with an answer, "I'd love that, yeah."

With the jacket and helmet he lends you, you look ready for the bike ride. Since it's your second time riding the bike, he finds you more relaxed than before. He can't see much of your face with the helmet getting in the way of seeing it.

When the bike stops at a traffic light, he finds your hands resting on his thighs instead of around him. He takes them and puts them around his waist yet you slide them down to his thighs again.

"Why? You don't like it?" You simply ask.

He laughs and pulls up the visor of his helmet, "I like it but we have to keep it safe, mmh?"

Instead of around his waist, your hands climb higher to his chest and cupping his breasts, "Like this then?"

He laughs again and taking your hand to kiss it, then putting them tightly around him. He can see you smiling through the small rear view mirror.

"Hold on tight!" He says as the lights turn green.

The summer air feels warm as the bike launches forward through the scenic roads where you can see the whole city from the top of the hill. After getting off the bike, he guides you to walk a short trail that leads to his favorite spot, hidden behind the wall of trees and rocks.

"Wow!" You gasp as you stare at the view, "This is beautiful."

The view would be more beautiful at night but the day doesn't make it less beautiful either, the sun gives a warm glow on the city, making it looks like a dreamscape.

"It is beautiful," he sighs but he's not talking about the view.

He can see that you're in awe of the view, completely mesmerized by it and the whole thing that creates this moment. The bright sun, the summer air, the blue sky, the birds that faintly singing, the rustles of the tree branches whenever the wind blows, but the most important thing here is you.

He shyly takes your hand and holds it close to his side, ignoring that his heart is beating out of his chest as he does it.

"I think you know by now how I got this job," you suddenly start speaking something that is out of what he sets the mood for.

"No, I don't really talked about it with..." he says, then in the middle of the sentence, he remembers that he did talk about it with Yoon, "...anyone ever."

"I don't care with what people say about it because first, this is not a job," you turn your head to look at him, "It's a punishment."

"How is that so?" He asks, suddenly gets curious about it.

"I did something that angered my family so they did that, it's their way to punish me," you answer, sighing as you look at the view as far as you could, "They thought that I wouldn't be able to save the company. They're basically waiting for my downfall as we speak so they can laugh at my face and say 'we told you so!'."

Felix is grateful that he was born into a loving, supportive family that when he heard about yours, he can't relate himself to it at all. How come your own family wishes for your downfall? How come your own blood and flesh treat you this cruelly?

"You see, I have a lot to prove but I don't really have anyone helping me," you sadly admit.

His heart hurts hearing you say that that he tightly holds your hand to let you know that you're not alone, he's right there with you.

"You have me," he says in all conviction.

You softly smile as you look at him, "You don't have to do that."

"But I do. I want to help you," he confidently declares out loud, "I'm not that reliable, I know, but I'll try my best to help you."

You start chuckling and he realizes that he didn't seem as noble as he pictured it in his head, he feels like rolling himself down the hill.

"Oh, God! I'm stupid," he mutters to himself.

You turn to face him, "No. I think that's endearing," you say, then you lean in for a chaste kiss on his lips.

One kiss is enough to leave him dazed for a good minute until he reels himself back to reality. He takes that kiss as a sign that you allowed him to be more affectionate toward you and he's not going to waste this precious moment.

Felix looks out at the view and lets out the loudest scream that's echoing in the sky.

You gasp then break into laughter in reaction to it, "What is that for?"

"Try it! You'll feel good after," he suggests with a devilish smirk that decorates his angular face.

You consider it for a moment then turn your head toward the sky, your eyes are closed to face the blinding sun then let out a jarring scream that seems to help you draining out the pent-up angers inside you.

"That's a good one!" Felix sincerely says with an impressed smile.

You cover your eyes and shyly smile, and Felix thinks he's lucky that he gets to discover you this vulnerable side of you which doesn't make you less amazing, it makes you human.

With this warm feeling flooding his chest, Felix just can't stand there and sharing it through actions. He gets behind you and puts his arms around you, holding you from the back to enjoy the view together.

Your body slowly molds into him and you drop your head to his shoulder, then let out a delightful sigh.

"Thank you for taking me here," you say with your hand delicately rubbing his forearm.

"You're very welcome," he says back with a smile.

Even a beautiful day has come to an end.

Felix makes the most of it by enjoying the ride as the bike gliding through the city streets and taking you back home. He's sad that it's over but the best thing about it is he gets to see you again tomorrow and perhaps, it's going to be a more beautiful day than today.

His bike enters the parking basement and stops by the entrance of your apartment building where he usually drops you off from work.

You get off the bike and unclasp your helmet to take it off, you run your hand through your hair to tidy it as best as you could.

"Thank you for today," you say again as you hand him his helmet back.

"Don't mention it," he says, taking his helmet off too so he can comfortably talk to you.

"The jacket..." you say, realizing that you're borrowing it from him.

He tugs the hem and uses it to pull you closer, "You can keep it. It looks good on you," he says with a seductive smile.

You probably know what he's trying to do here, you put your hands on his shoulders and look at him, "I had fun today."

"Me too," he mindlessly says them back as he gets lost in your eyes.

"I have to go," you say.

"Okay," he says them back, and now that he glances at your lips, he feels tempted to to kiss you.

The attraction is there because why the next thing he knows your face is only inches away from him that he can feel your warm breath against his lips.

"Goodnight, Felix," you mutters to him, then lick your lips as if they're not enticing him already.

"Goodnight," he says back but you know well enough he's not ready to let you go.

He places his hands on each side of your waist and closes the gap between your bodies, he chooses not to kiss you right away. His lips lingering close to yours, rubbing them against yours before finally planting a passionate kiss on you.

If it wasn't for the car that interrupt this intimate moment, you wouldn't have pulled away from the kiss. You smile and place a last kiss on his cheek.

"Goodnight," you say again then take a step back.

"Night," he says, still reeling from the kiss.

"Be careful on the ride home," you say for one last time before walking toward the entrance and

He watches until you get in and dissappear from his sight to get ready to get home. As he rides his bike and feels the wind brushing his skin, he thinks things couldn't get any better than this.

Everyone leaves the office early to attend the release party but you insisted on staying a little longer to make sure everything is ready for tonight and Felix helps you by checking it right on site.

He reports back everything to you through a phone call as you're finishing things up in the office.

"Double check with the caterer again about the extra selection of foods," you order through the phone.

"Noted!" He sats as he jots it down on his note, "Anything else?"

"Pick up my dress and deliver it to my apartment."

"Yes."

"Don't forget to remind the driver to pick me up at 7pm sharp," you conclude.

"Uh..." Felix was thinking of doing that himself and it's the perfect time to tell you, "What do you think if I..."

"Call me if something comes up," you hang up the call before he can finish his words.

There's no time to waste here, with or without picking him up, he'll see you at the party. He does everything on his to do list and the last thing is to pick up your dress at the shop. He got your dress but he also got something else.

"What is this one?" He asks the lady who hands him the dress.

"You are her assistant, right?"

He innocently nods in response.

"This one for you. She made a note that this is for you to wear to the party," the lady says, helping him carrying the dress as to not ruin it.

He refuses the urge to peer inside to see what you ordered for him, he remains firm and safely delivered the dress to your apartment before heading home to get ready for the party.

Felix doesn't call the driver on purpose, he takes the car with him and leaves a little after six to pick you up. He keeps checking himself on the mirror if his tie is askew or his hair stays in place despite the amount of hairspray he used.

The car is parked right outside the main entrance of your apartment building, he pulls out his phone to let you know about his arrival.

"The car is ready outside," he informs you, sparing the detail of who drove it here.

"I'll be there in five," you shortly reply and hang up the call.

The truth is five minutes is not enough to mentally prepared himself, because all of a sudden, Felix gets nervous but also excited at the same time. But knowing that you'll be coming through the doors any minute now, he keeps his cool and fixes his tie countless of times.

When the doorman reaches for the doors, he knows that it must be you. He takes a deep breath and stands up straighter, ready to greet you. However, the second he sees you, he completely loses his cool.

"Wow!" He lowly gasps, gobsmacked by how you look tonight.

You look so perfect in that silk black dress with the high slit on the side, exposing your leg as you slowly descending the steps.

Gosh, where is his manner? He hurriedly snaps himself out of his daze and walks up to the base of steps, offering you his hand to walk down the last couple of steps.

"So, you're my driver for the night?" You ask with a half smirk that quite provoke him in a way.

"Yes, ma'am," he says with a foolish grin.

"Excuse my impertinence but you look divinely beautiful tonight," he genuinely says, just in case you didn't see it by how mesmerized he is by you.

You look at him, taking a moment to see him from head to toe and bring your eyes to his face again, one of your eyebrows raised as you notice the silk tie he's wearing.

"You look not bad yourself," you compliment him back.

Aware that the host can't be late to her party, he hurriedly goes to the car and opens the door for you, not forgetting to offer his hand to help you get inside.

Arrived at the venue, Felix actively assisting you from the moment you get out of the car, helping you make an entrance to the party you host, holding your purse for you, fixing your dress so the photographers can take only the best pictures of you and he's okay being seen like a little puppy trailing behind you.

When you're finally inside, Felix can relax a little, he brings you a glass of champagne for a starter.

"Your drink," he hands your drink to you.

"Thank you," you mutter your gratitude with a smile which makes everything he did for you so rewarding to him.

"You know it's everyone's party and that's including you."

He has to refrain from sipping his own drink as he doesn't fully grasp what you meant by that, "Pardon me?"

"What I mean is you're not supposed to be working tonight. I can always call a driver to get me home," you answer, taking a sip of your wine and leaving a lipstick mark on the rim.

"No, that's okay. I can definitely drive you home," he convinces you.

"But that's what I'm trying to say, you shouldn't be driving me home. You should be drinking and having fun," you tell him, keeping the conversation low as the place starts to fill with more people.

"I'm having fun," he assures you with an easy smile.

You take the glass of juice from his hand along with your purse he's been holding, "Just go and have fun," you tell him again.

Uh-oh! He knows better to not make you tell him for the third time so he reluctantly goes to the bar and orders himself a mocktail because he's adamant to be your driver tonight.

It's not like he doesn't have anyone to talk to, in fact, he knows almost everyone who works on the same floor with him but while he's mingling with other people, his eyes lingers on you.

He gets alarmed when a new guy comes into the scene and you welcome him with a smile, not that courteous smile you always do when you're meeting a client or doing business. It's a friendly smile that he once saw when you met Suze a month ago.

Fortunately, Felix knows where to go when he needs informations and it's not hard to find Yoon, she's somewhere close to where the food is. He skips the small talk and asks right away.

"Do you know who that guy is?" He asks.

Yoon can find you right away since you're the only one looking exceptionally stunning among the sea of boring people in suits.

"You mean the guy who's intimately talking to your boss?" Yoon asks back with her mouth full of food.

Felix's eyes darts to see it and she's right, you're leaning into each other as you speak and you even laugh in between.

"Yes," he answers with clenched jaws.

Yoon washes the food down with a glass of wine, "You don't know him?"

Felix can't tell what pisses him off more, the fact that he doesn't know who's that guy or Yoon for making it obvious to him or both of them combined.

"He's the Kim Seungmin," Yoon says, taking another glass of wine from the server as he walks past her.

"Who?" He asks in confusion.

"Kim Seungmin from the son of the KS Corp, CEO of KS airline, owner of the Huskies Luxe stadium along with its basketball club. What do you mean you don't know?" Yoon says with a judging glare aimed at him.

"You're working at a sports media outlet for goodness sake," she adds, shaking her head as she takes for another piece of canapés.

Well, Felix gets what he came here for even though he has to sacrifice his dignity for that. He's about to turn to leave when Yoon tugs at the sleeve of his suits.

"That's him," she says, struggling to speak and chew at the same time.

"What?"

Yoon takes her time to chew her food thoroughly, making him wait for the answer in anticipation. After a good minute, she swallows it down and finally speaks again, "He was the one with the private jet and secured the meeting with David Kent."

Oh, so not only that he has the look and the money, he's been playing knight in shining armor for you? He scoffs in disbelief and about to storm away when Yoon says something that stops him on his track again.

"And by the way, they're engaged," she adds as she shoves another finger food into her mouth.

He thinks he misheard it so he asks again, "Come again?"

He shots her an intense glare and Yoon swallows her food fast, "They're engaged," she says while wiping her mouth with a napkin.

"Who?"

"Those two excellent humans," Yoon says, pointing at you and the guy you're getting too friendly with.

Engaged? If that's true, then why this is the first time Felix heard it? Engaged? He cracks a laugh because it sounds like an absolute bollock to him because that means he's been having sex with someone's fiancée.

Deep down, Felix knows what pisses him the most is that he feels a sense of betrayal from you. Yoon swiftly grabs another glass of wine from the server but he snatches it from her hand and gulps it down in one go.

"Excuse me," Yoon call the server who just came from the bar carrying a tray full of drinks.

"Yes?" The server asks.

"Can we have the drinks?"

"Sure," the server takes two drinks for Yoon and Felix.

But Yoon hands them back to her and takes the tray from her hand, "We need the whole tray. Thank you!"

The server leaves with a befuddled expression on her face while Yoon puts a drink in his hand, "You look like you need it."

Felix knows better that he shouldn't drink tonight and one drink is all he needed. Also, he has something to do tonight that requires him to stay sober.

"You can have them all, Yoon," he says, handing the drink back to her hand.

The party is slowly coming to its end with people starting to leave as the night getting late. Felix decides that it's time to ask you if you're also planning to leave soon. He sees that you're still chatting with a few people on the second floor and he's had enough of seeing that guy latched to your side all night.

He gently holds your elbow to get your attention and it works to make you turn your head to him, "Yes?"

Keeping his tone calm, he asks, "People are starting to leave so I wonder—"

"Who is this?" The guy who makes it to the top of his hate list curiously asks.

Your attention is shifted back to him and you smile as you introduce him, "This is my assistant, Lee Felix."

Huh? You even introduce him by his full name like what he has with you is strictly business and nothing else.

Seungmin smiles and offers his hand at him, again, he's not used with rich people acting like decent human compared to normal people.

"Nice to make your acquaintance, Felix," he says to him.

"Me too," he shortly replies, not forgetting to put on a courteous smile as he secretly observes him, trying to get any clues about his personality through his looks.

"So, what were you trying to tell me?" You ask him, turning your body his way and blocking him from his view.

"Just wanting to ask if you're ready to leave," he replies, keeping the conversation private even though Seungmin could hear it with how close he stands next to you.

You look around and see that most of everyone has left, only a few people are still staying for the drinks and the chats, "Maybe in a minute?"

"You know I can give you a lift home and your assistant can go home early," Seungmin offers, putting his drink down in the nearest table.

"No!" Felix surprised himself by hastily answering the question that's not even aimed at him, "I can wait. I don't need to go home."

"You don't to go home?" Seungmin lets out a low chuckle tinted with sarcasm, "You got yourself a loyal assistant."

Felix finds it unacceptable that you join in on the laughter, he feels the need to defend himself that he's not just a mere assistant, he's more than that.

"I'm her assistant and that means she's going home with me," he remarks and regrets it right away for how wrong he worded it.

The radiance on your face dims in a second. You reach for his forearm, holding it and looking him in the eyes as you say, "You can wait for me in the car."

"I can pick you up at the entrance," he blubbers, suddenly feeling like he just shrank into a microscopic size under your stare.

"I said wait for me in the car," you intensely enunciate every word, and he realizes that you just repeated your words which is not a good sign.

"Yes," he hastily responds, then turns away to leave.

Waiting in the car only allowed his thoughts to be louder, Felix finds himself still in denial that you're engaged and he didn't know about it until tonight. Then it all comes back to him, the talk you had with Suze that night and how she told you to 'just marry him' but you said you aren't sure if you want to get married in the first place. If you don't want to marry him, why you smile to him with your eyes crinkled like that?

The pieces of puzzle are slowly coming into place but not enough to show him the whole picture.

Felix is deep in thoughts that he doesn't realize you're getting the door to the car, he's too late to help you getting in and turns his head to check if you're settled in.

"Drive!" You keep your order concise and short, he figures you must be tired and can't wait to get home.

The ride home is quiet and it's not the comfortable kind, it's rather suffocating, he wants to say something but he's afraid of intruding your private space.

You remain quiet even after you arrived home, it makes him hesitate to ask or even speak. Fortunately, he knows where to put your things, he hangs your coat before putting it inside the cloakroom and carefully places your purse on top of the glass table next to the bowl of keys.

Then he realizes that he has to eventually ask you whether you still need him or not, he licks his lips and sets his tone right to ask, "Can I help you with anything else?"

You look at him while carrying your shoes in one hand, "Yes. I need you to come with me."

You don't wait for his answer, you're going to your bedroom and he follows you inside, seeing the bed is neatly made and the room smells of citrus and baby powder, a mix of scents he's greatly familiar with.

"You can sit on the bed while I put my shoes away," you order.

Felix awkwardly walks to your bed and sits on the end of it, waiting for you to come out of your spacious closet. A while later, you finally come out, lifting the hem of your dress as you walk on the carpeted floor.

"What do you think of the party?" You saunter to your vanity with your hands busy unclasping the bracelets on your wrists.

"I think he party went great. Everyone was having fun and happy," he answers, feeling like he's being interrogated despite the simple question.

"And how about you?" You look through the mirror as you remove your earrings.

"Sorry?"

"Did you have fun?"

"I had fun," he shortly answers and hopefully, it sounds convincing enough to you.

"Mmh. Glad to know you had fun," you calmly say, turning away from the table and walk up to him.

A moment passes in silence as you stand therr right in front of him and he's just sitting there, waiting on his fate. Without taking your eyes off him, you reach for the zipper of your dress and pull it down, the ripping sound echoing in the room and building tension in the room.

With overflowing confidence, you take the dress off right in front of him and his breath hitched as you reveal your naked body to him, except for the thin, lacey underwear you're wearing.

"Want to know something?" You place your hands on his shoulders, running them down his shoulder blades to take the suit jacket off of him

He chokes on air as he rushes to answer you, "Y-yeah?"

Slowly, you sit yourself on his lap, naked while he's still fully clothed. You reach for his tie and feel the silky fabric in your hand.

"All night I was thinking of how I'm going to take this tie off of you," you speak so so low it's almost like a whisper.

Felix swallows hard as your lips inches closer to his and your hand is tugging at his tie, "And have you decided how?"

You seductively smile and put your other hand on the nape of his neck, "Oh, I just have so many ideas."

You place a hot kiss on his neck, sending his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, "But I'll tell you one."

"Uh huh?" He hopes his nod conveys his genuine curiosity to your answer.

Your glide your hand down his front until you find his clothed member, stroking it with your hand just enough to feel him out.

You lean in close to his ear and whisper, "The idea is giving you head and let you cum all over my face."

"I think that's a very nice idea," he says, his voice drops lower than usual.

You nod and lowly giggle, you take his hand to place it on your face, making him touch your lips with his fingers, "Just imagine your cum all over it."

"Yeah..." he breathlessly says.

Your part your mouth open, offering him to insert his thumb inside which he wastes no time doing it. He can feel your tongue twirled around his thumb before sucking at it hard, giving him just enough idea how it would feel like to have his cock in your mouth.

"God, you're so alluring," he gasps, feeling overwhelmed with amazement and desire.

You bring his hand down to your breast, cupping it together as you start grinding on him. It's not hard to make him erect with the way you rub your crotch against his growing bulge.

"I want to feel your cock gets hard in my mouth," you murmur with your hot breathe tickling his ear

His other hand joins in, placing it on the other breast and syncing their movements to knead on them, feeling the ample flesh molds into his hands.

As his hands busy playing with your soft mounds, you work on his tie, patiently untying it and seamlessly pulling it off from the collar of his shirt.

You triumphantly smile and joining him to knead on your breasts, before taking his hands away and put them around his back.

"But the way you acted tonight..." you put his hands together and use the necktie to tie them together, "made me change my mind."

Felix feels tricked but weirdly, he remains still as you bind his hands together behind him and make sure it's strong enough he won't break away from it. However, in a moment like this he finds the bravery to ask, "Is it true that you're enganged?"

Displeased with his defiance, you grab his chin to make him look at you, "I think you're getting way too comfortable with me, don't you think?"

He holds your gaze and fiercely looks deep into your eyes, "So I've been fucking someone's fiancée, huh?" He boldly says with a snarl.

You put more pressure around his chin, your fingers are pressing in on his cheeks and then say, "Shut your fucking mouth!"

This is the first time he ever heard you cursing and somehow, he finds it attractive, arousing even. Surprisingly, he finds himself obeying you, he stops talking and closes his mouth as you ordered him to do.

In return, you slowly let go of his chin and get off his lap, "Now, for your punishment."

You pull your underwear down, going fully naked in front of me and he gets frustrated for not being able to touch you. You hold him by the shoulder and look down at him as you crumple your underwear into a ball and carefully shoves it into his mouth.

"You're going to sit still and take your punishment like a good boy, understand?"

Not being able to speak with a ball of fabric in his mouth, he nods in response.

"You should be thankful that I'm letting you watch," you say with a gentle caress on his cheek and a tender gaze into his eyes.

He nods again as he widens his eyes, eager to see what you're going to do to him. You might have said it punishment but to him, it's a proof that you care for him, because if you didn't, then why would bother punishing him anyway?

"Sit still. Be good," you warn him again as you slowly lowering yourself until you kneel on the floor and sit between his legs.

Felix constantly reminds himself of your warning and lets it be the only thing that fills his head, endlessly echoing in the back of his head. Even though he's not sure how long he can do it as you start working open his belt and unzip his fly.

"Ah..." you let out a delightful sigh the moment you successfully take his member out of its confine.

Felix can't find what's more arousing, the way you wrapped your hand around his cock or how you're slyly smiling at him while you're doing it, or... how he can't do anything but watch you doing all that.

"Have I told you that you have such a pretty cock?" you murmur, using your thumb to play with the tip.

Without looking, he knows that he's blushing from your compliment. You think his cock is attractive and he really needs to unbox that at some point.

"It has the perfect length," you say, lightly trailing the length of his cock with just the tip of your index finger.

"The perfect girth," you continue by putting both of your hands around his cock, rubbing it at two opposite directions.

"A little curved but that's how I like it," you come closer to his crotch, allowing you to rub his cock on your nipples, "With cute pink tip."

It's obvious that he wants you so much yet you keep playing with his cock, teasing it, touching it as you please and rub them in between your breasts. He gets it why it's a punishment, he's being punished for real.

"I've been taking you well, right?"

With the underwear stuffed to his mouth, he answers with a muffled yes and repeated nods.

You softly smile and tip your head to the side, "Do you think I can take you well with my mouth too?"

He hastily responds by repeatedly nodding his head, the need to feel your mouth around him overpowering him, controlling him.

You're batting your eyelashes at him as you say, "Watch closely as I take you in my mouth."

Felix widen his eyes and holds his breath, not wanting to miss any second of it. You firmly hold the base of his cock and you slightly stuck your tongue, then slowly, you put him into your mouth.

His groans turn into muffled whimpers with your underwear that is soaked with his saliva in his mouth. You feel hot and slick and soft around him, it's close to what it feels like being inside you but it offers him a new, different sensation.

He doesn't know how you make your eyes wide and innocent like that as you twirl your tongue around the head of his cock, pressing your tongue onto his slit before taking all of him at once.

No matter how much he wants to keep watching, Felix tilts his head upward and screws his eyes shut, overwhelmed with pleasure.

You may not be able to take all of him in your mouth and compensate the rest with your hand, but oh, that doesn't make it less pleasurable to him. He so badly wants to put his hands in your hair and keep your hair away so he can see the way his cock slips in and out of your mouth.

He can't stop muttering words even though he's aware with your underwear in his mouth.

"Keep going."

"Just like that."

"Please don't stop."

But he tries so hard to make his silent cries are heard, he knows you're using the noises he makes as your guide to please him.

The full length mirror showcases your beautiful figure as you kneel, bending down and continously bobbing your head between his legs, a view that feels like it comes straight out of his wild dreams.

All of a sudden, you abruptly stop when he gets closer to his release but he can safely assume you did it intentionally, it's called a unishment for a reason.

"Not yet," you murmur, slowing your pumping around his cock and use the other hand to tenderly cradle his balls.

His legs are trembling and his whimpers turn breathless, he's on the brink of it but you keep holding him back from plunging into his release.

"You should have thought about it before you acted like a jerk earlier, mmh?" You say with an insinuating tone and one eyebrow raised higher than the other.

He cries his regret while bobbing his head, agreeing to whatever you said because they're all right, you're right and he's wrong, therefore he deserves this punishment.

You get up from the floor and take a seat on his lap again, putting your arms around his shoulders as you look him through your half shut eyes.

"You think you're so hot with your pretty face and your pretty smile," you say in a mocking tone, tugging on the hair on the back of his head.

Then again, he finds it arousing instead of humiliating so he stares back into your eyes, daring you to say more mean things to him.

"You think you're so hot with your smile and your deep voice, mmh?" You press little kisses on the sensitive skin behind his ear.

To provoke you, he nods, agreeing to what you've just said about him. In reaction, you let out a series of chuckles with your hand fisting the collar of his shirt.

"And you think you're going to get what you want with this attitude?"

This is where he's feeling conflicted. A part of him wants to keep rebelling just to see how far he can push you or vice versa but another part of him wants to keep obeying you like a good boy like you asked and he's very well aware how pathetic he is for that.

"Maybe your other head can help you think," you say, holding his cock in your hand again and aims it toward your entrance.

While maintaining eye contact with him, you lower yourself down on him and watch him slowly crumbling under you. The feeling of being buried in your warm, velvety walls change his mind almost immediately.

What Felix wants is simple. He wants you, he wants you so much.

You begin rocking your hips back and forth, slowly yet intensely. Your part his shirt open just enough so you can place kisses all over his neck and chest with your hand feeling the muscles on his abdomen.

He can hear you hold you breath whenever you intentionally clench around him and let out a sigh when you let go, it's all fun and games to you as you enjoy watching him struggles to contain himself.

For him, it's one hell of a torture.

Your mouth inches closer to his ear and he tips his head to the side to give you access to it. You're nibbling on his ear and then lowly whisper, "I must say that I love your voice though."

He looks at you, giving you pleading eyes and hopefully, you'll give him what he wants.

You press your mouth to his ear and continue your sentence, "But only when you're moaning, whining and begging in my ears."

You finally take your underwear that's been gagging his mouth and he can see that it's soaked with his saliva before you drop it to the floor and you don't wait to kiss his open mouth like you've been wanting to do it.

Felix kisses you back as hard as deep, can't believe that he's making it this far without your kisses, it makes him even more thirsty for you, craving for the taste of your lips.

"Are you going to be good now?"

Even though he's able to talk, he nods his head to you instead but it's enough to make you triumphantly smile.

You put your arms around his shoulders as you plant another kiss on his lips while keeping the motion of your hips going, fucking him so good that moans are spilling out of his parted mouth non-stop.

"Are you going to cum for me?" You murmur.

He nods again.

You caress his cheek with your knuckle, "I can't hear you, baby."

That means you demand a verbal answer from him, he gulps air to clear his throat and speaks for the first time in a while, "I want to cum."

You place a long kiss and talk against his lips after, "You forget to say something," you remind him.

Felix knows exactly what you want to hear from him and he wastes not another second to say it.

"Please..." he pleads.

"I want to cum, please," he desperately says again.

As a reward for his obedience, you hold up your breast and put it in his mouth which he enthusiastically takes, he starts sucking on it and not waiting for you to give it to him to switch to the other breast.

You're tightening your hold around him as you pick up the pace, bouncing on his cock faster and faster while he moans with his mouth full of your ample flesh.

"You want me to keep going, yeah?"

"Yes, please, yes," he manages to form a coherent answer despite his brain is barely functioning.

You can sense his high is nearing as his moans turn into low growls but that doesn't stop you from keep going. He takes more of your breast and latches his mouth to it, sucking it at it harder the closer he gets to his release.

For him, it's no longer a punishment when pain and pleasure blur into one.

He lets go of you breast with a loud pop with a string of saliva connecting his lips and your nipple, "I'm so close, so close," he says.

"I know, baby, I know," you coo, putting a little more intensity into your thrusts.

On the first sign of his cock twitching inside you, you hurriedly pull him out and replace it with your hands, continue the stimulations with your hands restlessly pumping his cock.

"Now, cum for me," you encourage him, "Be good and cum a lot for me."

It doesn't take long for him to cum after that, his eyes are tightly shut and low grunts escaping through his gritted teeth as pleasure filling him to the brim and overflowing out of him.

You indulge him with kisses on his neck and lips even though he's still reeling from his high, then reach to the back to let go of the tie around his hands.

Felix sighs in relief as his hands are finally free but you notice his wrists are red and rub hem to soothe it, "Does it hurt?"

He shakes his head and puts his arms around you, pulling you closer to him, "It's okay. I'm okay," he reassures you with a sweet smile.

You smile back as you put your hands around him, leaning in close to sweetly kiss his lips, "We're not engaged. Not anymore."

"Huh?" He is too focused on this blissful moment to even remember the conversation he had with you earlier.

"I broke the engagement," you say again, you hold his face with both hands and briefly kiss his lips, "And I don't want you to question me again."

That's all he needs to know and you don't need to ask whether he believes you or not, because the only person he believes is you and if you say you're not engaged with anyone then that's the only truth there is.

"Thank you for telling me that," he sincerely says as he softly gazes into your eyes.

And just like that, Felix has unlocked a new part of you, a part of you that you don't share with just anyone and that makes him feel special. You make him feel special and things couldn't be better than this.

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@svintsandghosts @abiaswreck @ppiri-bahng @drhsthl @idkluvutellme @biribarabiribbaem @skz-streamer @biancaness @hanjisunginc @elizalabs3 @laylasbunbunny @kpopformylife @caitlyn98s @hann1bee @mamieishere @is2cb97 @marvelous-llama @bluenights1899 @sherryblossom @toplinehyunjin @hanjisbeloved @yourmomscuntis2tighy @sunnyseungup @skz4lifer @stellasays45 @severeanxietyissues @avyskai @imseungminsgf @silentreadersthings @army-stay-noel @rylea08 @simeonswhore @jebetwo @yubinism @devilsmatches @septicrebel @rairacha @cutiespaghetti @ven-fic-recs @hyunjiinnnn @lostgirlinthewoodss

#stray kids smut #skz smut #felix smut #skz felix smut #felix x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz fanfics #skz fics #kpop smut #kpop fics #kpop fanfics #seospicy smut

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jewels-writes · 1 year ago

Text

deception (part 2)

Warnings: mild(?) verbal arguments Word Count: 1,741 Fandom: Call of Duty Notes: I'm sorry if this part is boring, but it's important for the world building lol. Next chapter will have more action <3 As always, not well proofread, apologies per usual. Part 1 Part 3 — — — —

Interrogation after interrogation went by until the entire team was let out for the night. They didn’t have enough information to accuse anyone for now. Despite this, Laswell had ordered that you were to all refrain from communicating with each other.

“You'll be sleeping in separate rooms. We've arranged everything.” She said to the group after she'd stepped out of the interrogation room, motioning to the other agent to hand out papers that you assumed held your new sleeping arrangements in them. You saw Price clench his fists beside you, clearly unhappy about this.

“You are also to not speak to your teammates–or anyone besides me or agents–until this mess is resolved.” She continued. "I don't care about any personal affairs involved, this is above feelings toward others.” Her gaze leveled at Price and you, her implication clear.

Price might have been able to suppress his anger, but not you. “This is outrageous, Laswell.” You spoke up. You knew acting out like this would make you look bad, but you were upset. The pent up stress and uncertainty weighed on you and this seemed to be the best outlet right now.

As the room fell silent, all eyes turned towards you, their expressions a mix of surprise and concern. Price's grip on his clenched fists tightened, his jaw set in a firm line. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with conflicting emotions.

Laswell's gaze bore into you, her eyes narrowing with a mixture of irritation and superiority. “Outrageous? My orders are for the sake of the mission and the safety of everyone involved,” she retorted, her voice laced with arrogant authority. “In times like these, personal affairs must take a backseat, soldier. We can't afford any distractions.”

The weight of her words struck you, igniting a surge of anger that burned in your chest. You took a deep breath, struggling to control your emotions, but the frustration slipped into your voice. “You expect us to trust each other, to fight together tooth and nail, and then you strip us of the one thing that keeps us grounded? Our connection?”

Price stepped forward, his voice firm, but controlled. “Laswell, we may be soldiers, but we are also human beings. We need each other. Placing these restrictions only weakens us, and it undermines the very unity you seek to preserve.” You looked over to him, grateful that he’d taken your side on this mess.

Laswell's expression hardened, her jaw clenched. “Your emotions won't change the facts, Captain. Until this matter is resolved, the orders stand. Separate rooms, no communication.”

You could feel the rage bubbling within you, the urge to lash out growing stronger with each passing second. But Price's hand on your arm, his grip grounding you, reminded you of the bigger picture. You fought against the anger, taking a step back and tried to regain control.

“Easy, love.” He warned you with a knowing kindness in his tone. He knew you were upset, hell, so was he. But he knew lashing out wouldn't solve this. “It's not forever. Hopefully just one night.”

“Better damn be.” You grumbled before stepping back, standing beside Price, his hand still on your arm.

— — — —

Soon enough, an agent pulled you away from Price, insisting you follow them to your new room assignment. It was degrading, having to be guided around like some child. Though, you were grateful there weren't any prying eyes like there was earlier. It was late, most other soldiers were asleep, not wandering around base.

As you were led to your new room, your resentment simmered beneath the surface. The agent escorting you seemed unfazed by your mood, their expression stoic and professional. The hallways were quiet, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the floor. It felt eerie, the weight of the situation hanging heavy in the air.

The agent stopped in front of a nondescript door, handing you a keycard. "This will be your room for the night. Rest up and be ready for further questioning in the morning," they instructed, their voice monotonous and detached.

You nodded curtly, taking the keycard with a mild sense of unease. The door creaked open, revealing a simple, sparsely furnished room. The sterile ambiance accentuated the isolation and the growing frustration within you. It felt like a prison, a stark reminder of the rift that had been forced between you and the rest of the 141.

Closing the door behind you, you exhaled a heavy sigh, the exhaustion of the day weighing on your shoulders. The room felt cold, the silence deafening. It was in stark contrast to the warmth and security you found in Price's presence. You craved the comfort and reassurance only he could provide.

As you sunk onto the bed, the sheets feeling cold against your skin, you couldn't help but dwell on the unfairness of it all. The uncertainty and distrust hanging over the team had created a chasm that threatened to consume you. And being separated from Price only made it worse.

You just wanted to be held by him, just as you normally were. You weren’t supposed to, but most nights you’d go to his bed, cuddle up beside him. You knew tonight you’d get caught if you tried, but god, you wanted to.

Before you knew it, you were crying. The tears streamed down your face, the silent sobs shaking your body as frustration, helplessness, and anger poured out of you. The emotions you had been holding back for so long were unleashed in that moment—raw and overwhelming. The room felt suffocating, the weight of the situation bearing down on you.

You longed for Price's presence, his strong arms wrapped around you, offering comfort and peace. But the reality of the situation refused to allow you such a simple pleasure. It tore at your heart, the pain of separation so acute in this moment of vulnerability.

Your cries echoed in the empty room, a stark reminder of the anguish that consumed you. You wished for a release, a way to make sense of the chaos that surrounded you. But there was no easy answer, only the daunting task of finding the truth and proving Price's innocence.

Slowly, your tears subsided, leaving you exhausted and drained. You wiped away the remnants of your tears, your breathing slowly calming as you were left with an emptiness inside.

Grateful for the second pillow on the bed, you held it close to your chest, wishing it was Price. Or even just an article of his clothing with his scent embedded into the cloth. You were used to stealing a hoodie from him, settling for the clothing instead of him when you two couldn’t be close. Though you were sure the entirety of the CIA was going through his things, ruining their smells. Probably going through everyone’s belongings. Probably making a damn mess of it all too.

You sighed, the fatigue and exhaustion finally settling in. Your eyes slowly closed as the heaviness of sleep came over you, claiming you for the night.

— — — —

The next several days dragged on. The questioning never seemed to end. The agents would pull out an article of clothing or one of your belongings from an evidence bag and ask the most unrelated questions about them, digging way too deep into them.

The room was filled with the eerie sound of silence, broken only by the scratch of a pen against paper as one of the agents scribbled notes. Their piercing gaze remained fixed on you, their curiosity masked behind a façade of detached professionalism.

You sighed heavily, weariness seeping into your voice. “It's just a shirt,” you grunted, your tone laced with exasperation. “It holds no hidden meaning, no secret codes or messages. It's a personal item, nothing more.”

The agent across from you arched an eyebrow, recognizing the annoyance in your tone. “We've uncovered so much about each member of the team. Every detail matters.” They replied matter-of-factly.

Deep down, you knew their relentless pursuit of information was necessary to uncover the truth. But the constant digging felt invasive, like an assault on your privacy and personal history. The weight of their suspicion bore down on your shoulders, overwhelming you.

“Do you have any actual evidence that I did something? Or any of us? Who even suggested there was a spy?” You asked, knowing you probably weren't going to get a solid answer.

The agent's expression remained impassive as they met your gaze with a cold detachment. “We have gathered enough circumstantial evidence to merit further investigation,” they replied, their voice devoid of any emotion.

Frustration welled within you, and the lack of transparency from the agents only added to your growing sense of unease. “Circumstantial evidence? That's hardly enough to accuse someone of being a spy. You can't base a case solely on assumptions and guesswork,” you retorted, your voice tinged with frustration.

The agent leaned back in their chair, crossing their arms over their chest. “We have a duty to ensure the safety and security of the forces. We must consider every angle, every possibility.” they explained, their tone remaining steady.

The answer failed to satisfy you, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. You knew the importance of uncovering the traitor, but the lack of concrete evidence and the constant questioning wore away at your patience.

“I just want this to be over.” You muttered under your breath, your voice laced with a mix of exhaustion and resignation. Looking up at them again, you asked, “Has anyone been cleared yet?” The question was a shot in the dark, you knew that, but it had been days without anyone but these emotionless agents. You missed Price. You missed everyone.

The agent studied you for a moment, their gaze steady and piercing. “I cannot disclose that information at this time.” they replied cryptically, leaving you frustrated. Yet again. The hope that had begun to rise within you faltered, overshadowed by the lingering doubt and uncertainty.

You clenched your fists, the frustration and anger coiling within you like a tightly wound spring. “We deserve to know if any progress has been made. We need to trust each other if we're going to unravel this conspiracy.” You urged, your voice determined.

The agent's expression remained unchanged, a sense of detached authority emanating from them. “Rest assured that we are doing everything in our power to resolve this situation swiftly and efficiently.” They replied dismissively. (I don't know how to end chapters lmfao. Sorry if it seems like it just cuts off. Next part in a few days, whenever I get around to writing it.)

#angst #x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader #captain john price #cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #modern warfare #john price #captain price #price cod #writing #fanfic

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cooliogirl101 · 1 year ago

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So in Fourth Wing, I actually liked Xaden's character for the most part (minus the sex scenes and the last chapter, which I'm just not gonna talk about. I've never seen an author manage to erase character depth by giving them a chapter in their POV before). What I didn't enjoy was Xaden and Violet's relationship-- how so much of the focus was on establishing the drama and physical attraction between them that it forgot to make it fun.

Like, I could care less about Xaden being the dark, handsome, mysterious, broody guy. Let him be that way with everyone else. Violet and Xaden, I want them to shed their masks around each other and not even notice doing it. I want them to make each other feel safe enough to act like the children they never got to be.

"This is unbecoming behavior of you, Riorson. Please release me." Despite her words, Violet's tone was as professional as ever. The only sign of her annoyance was the miniscule twitch of her left eyebrow-- that, as well as the fact that she'd resorted to using his last name. Again.

"You found her?" Imogen grinned.

"It wasn't difficult." Xaden's tone was unbearably smug. Violet had a sudden, inexplicable urge to lean down and bite his hand where it was still holding onto her wrist in an unshakable grip.

She blinked, startled by the impulse. That was unlike her. She wondered if being bonded to two dragons had a bigger impact on her than she'd thought.

Don't blame this on us, Tairn grumbled in her head. Believe me, this is all you, Silver One.

"Found her slacking off in the Archives," Xaden continued. "She was so absorbed in her book, she didn't even notice me approaching."

(In the privacy of her own mind, Violet could perhaps admit to herself that this one was on her. She'd chosen too obvious a hiding place. Still, she wasn't about to say that to him.)

"Something we're going to have go work on," Xaden added, flicking her on the forehead. "Can't have you getting distracted every time you come across a shiny new volume you haven't read before. Why, imagine the disaster if our enemies discovered all they had to do was throw some rare first-edition volume in the air and they'd have a fifty-fifty chance of you diving off your dragon to catch it," he teased.

This time, she wasn't able to catch her impulse in time to stop it. Before she could analyze the potential consequences, she'd already kicked Xaden in the shin as hard as she could.

He let out a satisfying hiss of pain, releasing her from his grip.

"Now who's the unbecoming one?" Xaden asked, eyes bright with amusement. "Assaulting a superior officer? I could have you reported for that."

"'Take advantage of the opportunities your enemy gives you'," Violet recited. "General Katz, Rules of Combat."

"Are we enemies now?" Xaden wondered, placing a hand on his chest in mock hurt. "And here I was trying so hard to keep you alive."

"Anyone who disrupts my scholarly time that I spend analyzing and learning battle strategies to better prepare for the war effort is my enemy," Violet retorted.

"Please," Xaden scoffed. "The last person who needs any help training their intelligence is you. You're scary enough as it is, Violence."

This time, Violet managed to restrain the automatic urge to elbow him, if only because she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of proving him right.

"Don't call me that," she snapped instead. It wasn't even a proper pun, she thought to herself indignantly. If he was going to bastardize her name, he could at least have the decency of using some clever wordplay. This, on the other hand, was just lazy.

"What? Violence?" Xaden blinked, in a manner that would appear innocent, had it not been for the way the corner of his lips kept twitching. "But it suits you so well--"

Violet lunged at him.

It was, objectively speaking, an absolutely horrible attack. It was wild, impulsive, uncalculated, with zero chance of actually working.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun.

Violet had just enough time to catch the way Xaden's smirk morphed into a full-fledged grin before he caught her mid-tackle and twisted her until he had her in a fireman's carry.

"Let me go!" She threatened-- or attempted to. The barely suppressed laughter in her voice rather took all the menace out of it.

"Not a chance," Xaden scoffed, humor softening his features until they seemed younger, boyish almost. His body felt very warm against hers. "Let me remind you, you're the one who leapt into my arms, Violet. You can hardly ask me to let you go now."

(Everyone else in the training studio: *determinedly avoiding eye contact*

Rhiannon: How is it that they engage in the worst PDA of the Wing without actually engaging in any PDA. And how is it that neither of them seems to realize it.)

#i hate the violence nickname in canon if you couldn't tell #like use it if you want but at least acknowledge it's cheesy

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panther-os · 9 months ago

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Okay okay so here are questions for your bastard children au.

1. How does Ghost find out that Cam is a half brother? How did that conversation go? What did Cam react to realizing Simon Riley isn't dead and actually a scary mf in the 141? And how did Simon react to learning that his basterd father was more of a basterd than he thought?

2. Will the other siblings learn about Giles = Simon? Or is it a secret between Cam and Simon? I cant imagine it would be safe to tell all these people he barely knows. But also, they are family...

Probably more questions to come, but these are the main ones for now 💕💕

So there are several ways I'm playing with the reveal going! But basically it boils down to Cam is not ashamed of Simon, he is proudly open about who his older brother is and what he means to him. He doesn't go around announcing it, but when talking about why they wanted to join the military, he just very clearly goes "My older brother, Simon Riley, was in the service, and I want to be like him and make him proud of me. Yes, that Simon Riley, no, I don't think he's guilty. I never met him, but everyone said he was sweet, if grim, and he was very protective of his family, even and especially after he came back on leave. I don't believe he could've done it - killed the American? yes. killed his brother and mother and baby nephew? absolutely not."

Cam also talks to "Simon" out loud sometimes. Like a mission will go well, and he'll sigh and look up at the sky or into thin air and go "We did it, Simon. We made it through." (And Ghost will nearly break his own neck doing a double take if they were paired together for it.)

Cam is just glad Simon's alive and glad that he and all the other siblings were right and he was innocent. Though, he is a little sad he can't tell the others, especially Jambo. I forgot to say in the last ask, but Jambo is a computer nerd obsessed with proving Simon's innocence. He has maybe gotten in trouble for hacking government records (mostly because he's bad at it). Not even he thinks Simon's still alive, though.

Ghost is scared as fuck for Cam and the others. He's lost all his family before, he's almost certain it'll happen again. Cam gets in his face about it when the avoidance gets extreme though and is like "I chose this life, too. You only get to dictate the risks I take in my professional life, as my mentor and superior officer, not in my personal life as my brother. We are both adults." After that, things get smoother, and he agrees to be added to the groupchat with the best cyber security Laswell can set up on his end.

As far as learning about his half-siblings' existence... he's disappointed in his dad but not surprised. Or surprised that his dad is a disappointment. 🤷‍♀️

Keegan for sure finds out eventually, when the Ghosts and 141 finally team up. I think the others will start to suspect after a while, but they're not saying nothing. If Giles is Simon, they don't want to get him in trouble with the authorities, and if he's not, they don't want to upset him by treating him like someone he's not. So they all know but they're not talking and they don't Know. Not even Jambo. And this is 100% to keep them safe, Cam and Keegan and Simon all chose to enlist, the others did not. And Kitty is roughly the same age Joseph was when he died, which makes the feelings More Complicated for Simon. He got PTSD up the wazoo.

One thing that is related to it being family, though, is that Ghost's maternal grandmother - his Mamó Caoimhe (pronounced sort of like Mamaw Keeva), who he was super close to - is still alive. The Bastard Children in Manchester all take turns checking in on her and bringing her food and giving her company. They've never said they're her son-in-law's offspring, but she definitely suspects. But Ghost cut off all contact with her for the same safety reasons and supposed to be dead reasons after the massacre, and it gives him peace to know she has people looking after her. Specifically, being able to get regular updates on how she's doing without putting her in danger by showing up himself or straight up hiring a stalker - or begging Laswell - does his mental health a world of good.

I think that answered all your questions? 😅 Let me know if I missed any!

#/incoherent noises/#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod ghost #call of duty ghosts #keegan russ #the bastard children of bones riley #ocs #cod ocs #my ocs #asked and answered

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tartaglias-bunny · 4 years ago

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I really enjoy your headcanons😍 I was wondering if you could do some cockwarming headcanons for zhongli, diluc, and childe please 🥺💗thank you c:

i’m glad you like them so far! and yes i can! i’m gonna throw kaeya in there too, just for funsies

❀ ཻུ۪۪┊cockwarming; headcannons & drabbles

- ̗̀➛ NSFW WARNING || 18+

✿ pairings:

diluc, zhongli, childe, kaeya

✿ author’s note:

i really hope you like these headcannons! i might do another set of headcannons before i take a break and finish the childe x reader fic i’ve been working on! so i hope you guys are excited for that 💕

✿ work in progress:

- ̗̀➛ sub genshin character x reader

- ̗̀➛ childe x reader (smut)

diluc

i think diluc is a really private person

like he values the intimate moments he gets to have with you and prefers not to share/let anyone see the side of you that he gets to see

the side that’s for him and him alone

so he probably won’t have you cockwarm him in public

diluc probably will have you cockwarm him after you guys have sex

he just won’t pull out because he relishes the feeling of the warmth your cunt provides him

your ribbed walls enveloping his cock in a warm hug

if you’re cockwarming him after sex then your back is probably pressed against his chest

and his arms are hanging loosely around your frame

he’ll pepper the side of your face with kisses, all the way down to your shoulder

while his fingers trace random figures on the side of your hip

another place diluc will have you cockwarm him is in the bath tub

or a hot springs if it’s a private one

if you guys are at the hot springs or in the bath, he prefers it if the two of you are face to face -with your chests flush against each other

it’s just easier to hold you in his arms that way and because he wants to get a good look of that cute face of yours when he starts to lower you down on his cock

that and he loves to see your cheeks darken when he’s fully sheathed inside your cunt

kaeya

kaeya is definitely the type to have you cockwarm him in public

the thrill of getting caught is just too exhilarating -that, and he just loves to tease the shit out of you

he will probably have you nestled on his lap in his office

he’ll “innocently” ask you to come sit in his lap while he does his paperwork, only for it to lead to something else

“I can’t help it, you’re just too tempting.”

he’ll start kissing the side of your neck while his hands begin to make their way towards your inner thighs -his fingers delicately dancing over your soft skin

it’s a never ending tease

the light touches will make you want more, but he’ll never give it to you until you admit it

he’ll touch every single part of you, except the parts where you need him the most

he’ll work you up until your cunt is throbbing in anticipation and your breaths are uneven from frustration

there’ll be a shit eating grin on this mans face when he finally has you where he wants you

he’ll trace the outer shell of your ears with his lips, stopping at the base to nibble on your ear lobe

“You’ll let me put it in, won’t you baby?”

and just like that your whole demeanor crumbles and you give into his desires

he’s a cocky little shit too

he’ll make you do it yourself

Kaeya’s eyes darken with lust as he watches the [h/c] girl slide her panties down her legs -taking the lacy material from her to shove them in his pocket for safe keeping, his blue like orbs glimmering in delight at the prominent wet spot that had formed in the middle.

Taking her hands in his, Kaeya guides them towards his belt buckle, allowing the girl to undo his pants.

Sliding the zipper down all the way, [f/n] pulls Kaeya’s boxers down just enough for his erection to spring free. Wrapping her hand around the base of his member, [f/n] gives his cock a couple strokes for good measure -making sure to give the tip extra attention, just how he liked it.

Positioning her legs on either side of him, the [h/c] girl got ready to lower herself down on his cock; her hands pressing against his chest for support, whilst Kaeya’s made their way to her hips -getting ready to guide the girl onto his cock.

Just as the tip of his dick prodded her entrance, Kaeya tightened his grip on the girl’s hips, forcing her to stop.

“Other way baby girl, I still have work to do.”

With a blush on her face, [f/n] does as she’s told, turning her body around before she’s finally allowed to sink down on her lover’s cock.

Her eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his cock slowly pushing passed each crevice of her cunt, her pussy spasming in delight as his member filled her to the brim -the tip of his cock nestled perfectly between the folds of her cervix.

bonus :

he’ll probably be teasing your clit every now and then, trying to see how much you can take before you cum

thats is, if he even decides to let you cum

his favorite thing to do is tease you when someone enters the room

he’ll bounce you up every now and then to “rearrange” your position, but in reality, he just wants to feel your cuny clench around his cock

oh and remember your panties? you’re probably not getting them back anytime soon, so you better pray that the bottom of your dress doesn’t blow up on your way home

childe

like Kaeya he is also a cocky little shit

he loves to have you cockwarm him in public

especially if there are lots of people around

what can i say, he just loves to tease his precious ojou-chan~

“Not so loud ojou-chan, you don’t want anyone to find out what we’re up to don’t you?”

“Heh? Don’t tell me ojou-chan is secretly a pervert who enjoys being watched.”

a lot of outsiders will think you two are the cutest couple in the world with the way Childe always insists for you to sit on his lap -holding you close as if he’s never going to let you go

but what they don’t see is his semi erect cock perfectly nestled in between the juncture of your legs

childe is a dirty talker

he won’t touch you at all

once you’re fully sheathed on his cock, he lets his mouth do all the magic

the descriptive images he’s able to put in your head makes your cunt throb in anticipation and he can feel it

he loves knowing that he has this kind of effect on you

childe loves showing you off, but he also hates when other guys stare at you like they’re undressing you with their eyes

“Heh, look at that guy over there staring at us.” he points out, pressing a soft kiss against the girl’s shoulder as he kept his eyes focused on the male.

Tilting her head slightly to the right, [f/n] glances over at the man who was sitting two tables away for him. “Eying you as if the Jueyun Chicken on his plate isn’t enough,” he growls, before refocusing his attention towards the girl on his lap.

“If only he knew what was going on underneath.” he teases, his fingers playing with the hem of her dress, “Or maybe he does?”

[f/n] could feel the heat rush to her cheeks at his words, “You enjoy being watched, don’t you ojou-chan?” Childe smirks, resting his chin on top of her shoulder.

“That’s not true.” she meekly retorted, her mind hazy from how long his cock had been nestled inside her -the ginger had stayed idle for so long, the poor girl was just dying for him to move.

Desperately wanting to feel his cock drag along the inner walls of her cunt -wanting to feel every vein of his shaft rub against her.

“It’s not? Then tell me why your cunt spasmed when I told you he was watching us?”

zhongli

okay so imagine cockwarming zhongli as he’s telling one of his stories

most of the time he likes to maintain a professional look when he’s telling his stories, but he just can’t help himself when it comes to you

he’ll allow you to sit on his lap as he speaks and answers questions

every now and then you shift in his lap to fix your postition, sitting in one spot for so long can get tiring, you feel?

his eyes will slightly widen at the feeling of your ass unintentionally grinding against his crotch

pressing you firm against his lap, he’ll try to get you to stop moving

that way his little friend over here can stop growing

but it doesn’t really work out for him

because now the only thing he can think of is how good your ass feels against his dick

the limp muscle slowly starting to come to life at the friction you provided him -along with zhongli’s imagination

this is the only time this man begins to stutter when telling his stories or answering people’s questions

he has to try his best to keep his expression as neutral as possible once he feels you unzipping the zipper to his pants

his knuckles turn white from how hard he’s clenching his fists once he starts to feel you sink down on his cock

from afar, it merely seems as if you’re getting up to position yourself in a more comfortable position

the feeling of your textured walls rubbing against the sides of his shaft make his balls twitch in anticipation -he wants more, no he needs more

but he can’t have his way with you just yet

an amused expression paints your features every time you clench your cunt around him

the soft grunt he lets out along with the sharp breath of air he intakes is like music to your ears

“Just wait till we get home.” he lightly growls into your ear

#childe smut #childe x reader #diluc smut #diluc x reader #genshin impact headcannons #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #zhongli smut #zhongli x reader #kaeya smut #kaeya x reader #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia smut #bokki writes

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prettyiwa · 2 years ago

Text

I do not authorize the translation or reposting of my work anywhere. Do not mention me or my work on TikTok.

Relationship: Sawamura Eijun x F!Reader Rating: SFW Content Warnings: Fluff, Slice of Life, Professional Baseball Player!Eijun, Younger Brother's Best Friend!Eijun, Childhood Friends, Childhood Crush (One-Sided), Mentions of Drinking (set in an izakaya), Family and Friends Reunion, Flirting Summary: Fifteen years after he used to announce to the world, "I'm going to marry you one day!" he no longer looks like the Ei-chan you once knew, though there remain parts of him that you recognize. Word Count: 2,760

A/N: this was entirely inspired by kiki's post and brainrot that wouldn't leave. thank you @tyga-lily for letting me dump younger brother's best friend!eijun thoughts on you and absolutely enabling me ♡ i also refuse to talk about the fact that my first daiya piece is not tetsu (or miyuki) but eijun. that is all.

Even from the street, you can hear the clamor of your family inside the izakaya. If your parents and grandparents hadn’t known the owners as long as they have, you’re sure they would have kicked the lot of you out a while ago. It’s hard for you to gauge how many people are inside given the loud nature of most of your family, but it wouldn’t surprise you to find it packed. Sure enough, the air is warm when you step in because of the sheer number of people inside, laughing and as animated as ever.

As you remove your coat and shoes, you see your aunts and uncles all drinking at adjacent tables in the corner, excitedly chattering with the owners about the success of their children. Cousins everywhere, catching up with one another, bragging about their work or their university, trying to prove that they were the ones who made the better choice, that they’re the ones going farther. Looking toward the back, you see your parents laughing with the Sawamuras and the Aotsukis, though their appearances don’t surprise you in the least.

There’s a pat on your shoulder as you start to make your way to your parents and you turn to meet Daiki, boasting a wide smile that makes him look like a teenager again. You don’t miss the stubble on your younger brother’s chin, nor do you miss the smile lines around his mouth or the premature creases around his eyes. Though you saw him a handful of months ago, you’re still surprised that he’s taller than you now, even if just barely. Despite all those minute changes, you still see your baby brother bouncing around in there.

“Big sis! I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it.”

“What do you mean? I confirmed with mom and dad months ago when I requested time off, though something came up at work and I’ll have to leave tomorrow morning.”

“Man, they never told me. All they do is talk about how successful you are now and how proud of you they are,” he complains without any bite.

“Are they still frustrated with your choice of major? Have you told them why you’re studying English?”

“No, no. I figure I’ll let you have all the glory until after I get my certification,” he teases lightly before checking his phone for the time. “Oh, hey, you don’t happen to know when Eijun will be here, do you?”

“Eijun? Your best friend?” you ask with an incredulous chuckle. “How would I know?”

Even if his family is here, you’re surprised to hear his expected attendance. Last you heard two years ago, he went pro, though you don’t know which team took him on since you don’t keep up with the sport. Although it’s likely that he’s yet to make the active roster, you still wouldn’t have expected him to be able to easily make trips like this.

“Oh. I thought since you’re both in Tokyo, you’d have talked with one another or something.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how large Tokyo is. If that’s the case, I’ll have you come out and visit more often.”

“I should visit more often, but no, I thought you two would’ve kept in touch, especially since you went to some of his games.”

“Did I though? I went to, what, six of his games over three years? And you were visiting for all of them,” you clarify. “Regardless, the last time we spoke was after he won that one championship years ago.”

Daiki hums, making you feel like he’s plotting something—but that could also just be him—before excusing himself, telling you that Miwa and Seiji have been asking after you. After an hour or so of being passed around from relative to relative, you find yourself at the bartop, ordering a drink and an appetizer from the owners.

They titter, treating you like one of their own, reminiscing about how you would chase after their daughter, looking up to her like she was your hero. All of this is nice and familiar and home and you find yourself leaning into it because it’s been so long since you’ve returned. By the time you’re nursing your second sake, thoroughly enjoying the sounds of your family around you, you feel someone approach you from behind.

“Long time, no see,” he says, voice close to your ear as he comes in to take the seat beside you. Eijun pulls the barstool closer so his leg is almost touching yours as he sits to face you.

You return his smile, a little too carefree thanks to the alcohol, and his eyes look like they’re shining brighter than you remember. “Yeah,” you hum as you turn to better face him. “It’s been a while, stranger.”

“Stranger? You think I’m a stranger? After everything we’ve been through? I am hurt and appalled,” he jokes with (mostly) faux dramatics. Nowhere near as loud as he once was, but you’re glad to see that he’s still just as energetic.

“‘After all we’ve been through?’ You make it sound like we’ve been through it. Besides, it feels a little odd to call you ‘Ei-chan’ now.”

It does because he’s so different than he was before. He looks older, more mature as he’s lost some of that lingering adolescent softness. Definitely five or six centimeters taller than when you last saw him. His shoulders are broader and, though he still remains rather wiry, he looks more filled out. You think there are traces of freckles across his nose from the constant sun and that he, like Daiki, sports premature creases on his face—similar smile lines, though the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes are a little deeper.

He’s different enough from the Ei-chan who would come over to hang out with Daiki that it feels weird to think of him as anything but Eijun.

His smile only grows as pink dusts his cheeks. “Haven’t we?”

“Definitely not,” you smile in return, reaching for your drink. “I think you must be confusing me for Dai-chan.”

“Definitely not,” he repeats, stealing your line as his eyes flit across your appearance. “So? How have you been? I tried getting ahold of you a couple of times over the last year, but you never got back to me.”

Cheeks warm from being checked out, you take a moment to enjoy the last of your sake, well aware of the way he still watches you. “Oh? I didn’t realize you wanted to keep in touch. Sorry about that—I had to change numbers after my last relationship ended.”

Eijun’s smile drops, lips shaping into a small pout while his eyes narrow imperceptibly. To seal the look, he scrunches his nose and clicks his tongue against his teeth, saying, “Agh, you always had the worst taste when it came to relationships.”

“Like you would know. It was only the last relationship that was bad.”

He scoffs, though his playfulness has returned in full. “What about Ren when I was eleven?”

“My first boyfriend?” He nods, waiting for your assessment, though you remember his. “We were young and stupid and split because I thought that he would put me above volleyball once I was his girlfriend.”

There’s a flash of something behind his challenging glare, but it’s gone by the time he asks, “Okay, well then, what about Itsuki?”

“Itsuki? Wow. I almost forgot about him. It was mutual. We didn’t share any of the same interests other than thinking the other was cute.” His eyes narrow further as he opens his mouth again, ready to point out another high school relationship before you cut him off. “Alright, alright, I get it Eijun. You remember my middle and high school relationships. But I feel like you’re a little biased since you and Dai-chan never approved of anyone I brought home.”

His face turns pink again and you smile, unsure of the cause, but enjoying the quiet flusters nonetheless. “Yeah, well, I still think you deserve nothing but the best.”

It’s probably a combination of the alcohol swirling in your system and the desire to see how red you can make him, but you bring your hand up to his cheek, cupping it briefly before giving it a couple of pats. He gives you what you want, cheeks immediately deepening in shade. “You’re so sweet.”

Before he can respond—and it’s very obvious he wants to respond—the owners stop on the other side of the bartop, offering grins and greetings to Eijun.

“Oh, look at you, Ei-chan! You’re so grown up,” the wife gushes, pulling his focus forward.

“We heard you went pro,” her husband adds. “Going to that prestigious high school was really worth it, wasn’t it? You should be proud that all your hard work is paying off.”

Eijun’s smile turns boyish, though his blush remains as he rubs the back of his neck. “No, no, no. I still have a long way to go. That’s why I haven’t gotten to play in a real game yet. I’ll be sure to make everyone proud real soon.”

“We’re sure you will,” she says with a fond smile. “We were just talking about what it was like when you and Dai-chan would try to play at the park, just the two of you. Oh, you were so cute then. Not that you aren’t a looker now, of course.”

Containing your laugh is almost impossible as Eijun starts sporting a full body blush, caught somewhere between wanting to hide and wanting to accept the compliment. He’s always been one to appreciate praise, even if his time with his high school team taught him some humility.

“I remember the way he’d follow you around, too,” her husband says, gesturing to you. “Do you remember how Ei-chan would shout at the top of his lungs that he was going to marry you? Made sure the whole of the Kiso Mountains could hear, that’s for sure.”

“How could I forget?” you laugh, noticing the way Eijun starts watching you both. “He was so persistent, shouting like I had forgotten. I don’t remember when, but I do remember that I eventually accepted it as reality. The sun will rise, the sakura will bloom, the snow will fall, Eijun will announce to the world that he intended to marry me.”

They join you in laughing at the warm memories while Eijun visibly flusters, though he doesn’t look displeased by the memory. As much as you like teasing him, you’d hate for his return home to be ruined because you went too far.

“Now look at him,” you start, catching him off guard. “He’s so big and is sure to take over the baseball world. I’m so proud of him.” Leaning forward with your hand extended, you don’t give a second thought to the way he seems to wait for your touch before you lightly pinch his cheek. Rubbing his cheek, he pouts, watching as you lean back, clicking your tongue for dramatic effect as you jokingly lament, “Ah, it’s a shame that I’m married to my job, though.”

The husband starts asking you about work, pressing you about what it’s like to be a civil servant in Tokyo while his wife asks after Eijun. She cleans the space in front of you while pressing Eijun to order a beer, smiling once he relents. From the corner of your eye, you see Daiki take notice of you two at the bar, working to escape from Aunt Hina to meet up with his friend.

“I should have known you’d beeline for my sister,” he jokes as Eijun accepts his beer.

“You looked busy! I didn’t want to be rude,” Eijun snickers, glancing toward Aunt Hina as she returns to her table. Family or not, everyone’s aware of how impossible it is to escape her once she starts talking.

“Yeah, yeah, like I’m gonna believe that. We both know what it was.”

“Oi! Are you trying to say that I’m a liar?”

You’re instantly reminded of how loud they can get once they’re started up, though you hoped age would have tamed them a little bit. Checking the time, you nearly whine at the hour, at needing to leave to maintain your schedule. Bidding farewell to the old couple, you dismount the barstool, turning in time to watch an animated retelling of something that happened weeks ago. Waiting patiently until Eijun’s finished, you catch Daiki’s attention.

“I need to head back to the house. You’ll let mom and dad know, won’t you?”

He makes a face, glancing over at your parents now sitting with Aunt Hina, not wanting to get sucked into conversation again. The moment he pouts, you know you’ve already won. “Do I have to? Can’t you go over and tell them yourself?”

“Nah. I’m gonna have to pull the ‘working big sister’ card. If I go over there now, we both know she’ll keep me until it’s time for my train to leave. Besides, it’s not like mom and dad will be upset—they’ll see me in the morning before I take off.”

“Fine, but only because you pulled the big sister card,” he rolls his eyes before mirroring your grin. “Get home safe.”

“Wait, I can walk you,” Eijun quickly interjects.

“Leaving me for my sister again, eh?” Daiki jokes, neither of you surprised by Eijun’s behavior.

“No, it’s fine. You should stay and catch up.”

“At least let me walk you out,” he insists, glancing toward your brother.

He shrugs with a wry smile before waving Eijun away. “Go, go, don’t worry about me. You owe me a drink, though, Ei-chan.”

“I’ll buy you three!”

They exchange another word or three as you make your way out, grabbing your jacket and slipping on your shoes. He catches up with you, not bothering with his jacket in an attempt to avoid making you wait.

Stepping outside, you’re caught by the sharp contrast in temperature. Autumn and winter have always been moderate seasons here, but it feels colder than usual when compared to the heat of the izakaya. Cold bites at your nose and you can see little puffs of your breath as you exhale. Out of habit, you glance up at the night sky, smiling at the stars visible here, away from the city lights. You miss this, even if you prefer the hustle and bustle of the city.

Eijun calls your name, nervously adding an honorific that indicates his uncertainty as to how to address you. Turning your head, you regard him, not missing the tension he’s holding in his shoulders or the determined set of his jaw. He seems to relax when you hum, encouraging him to say what’s on his mind.

“We should exchange numbers,” he suggests, smile slow to grow. “Don’t you think?”

“We should?”

“Yeah! It’d be nice to catch up some more, right?”

“Mm, I suppose that would be nice. Plus, it would be cool to have someone from home so close by,” you muse, though you’re already fishing for your phone. Unlocking it, you hand him your phone, watching as he enters his number. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m married to my job, you know.”

“Eh?” His hand pauses, thumb hovering over that last digit, and he looks up at you curiously.

“It might take me a while to respond to texts, or I might forget entirely. Don’t take it personally if I do.”

“Oh.” His thumb presses that final button, hitting call before passing you your phone. You catch the muted sound of his ringtone in his and wonder if that’s soft dejection that you hear coating his tone before it’s replaced by his usual optimism. “That’s alright. I can be really bad at responding, too.”

“Oh, good. I’d hate if I were the only one. I should really get going.”

If it were anyone else, you’d be taken aback by his triumphant grin, by the confidence and satisfaction that rolls off him in waves. “Alright! Make sure you get home safe! I’ll text you when I get back inside!”

“Ah, there’s the Eijun I know.” With a wave, you start heading towards your childhood home, stopping only briefly to look behind you. He’s still watching you, looking happier than you’ve seen him tonight. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“After all we’ve been through?”

Your laugh echoes in the street as you continue on and, as you turn the corner, you think you hear his signature cheer in the distance.

not a stranger fic page | Daiya no Ace Masterlist

#daiya no ace x reader #ace of the diamond x reader #sawamura eijun x reader #sawamura eijun fluff #daiya no ace fluff #daiya x reader #✒.ix writes #✒.not a stranger #daiya.✒

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rumblelibrary · 3 years ago

Note

I need a very loving Laszlo smut, either top or switch with him, take it any direction you want, any build up, any kinks. But I just... my soul needs this V I need to see this man happy and satisfied

Coming Back Home [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Wife!Reader]

Word count: 3k

Warnings: SMUT (fingering, mild victorian dirty talk)

Author’s note: I am weak to see this man happy, my mind went a bit overboard, but I just couldn't hold it back, to see him happy and fulfilled in all his means, professional and private. Thank you so much for feeding my obsession and being my supporter @cazzyimagines <3

The cold air hit him as a welcome back in the moment he exited the carriage, he was back in New York after six months of study and hard work in Wien, he hated and loved it: he learned a lot and got the chance to talk with some of the best alienists in the field granting himself some valuable resources and upcoming publications, the city was amazing and romantic. But all day, every day, he was with his mind on the life he left here, on you and your baby boy waiting at home patiently, easing his pains with letters and little colourful sketches, reassuring him that he would come back to the same house he left.

It was late, he could see the light in baby’s room was off already and it pained him to be late for the goodnight story.

The driver dropped his belongings beside the door with a huff before taking his money with a big thank you.

Laszlo nodded, a sense of tension taking over him, what if something indeed changed? What if you hate him for leaving for his own interest? Will his son remember him?

The silliest questions took over him and he just rang the bell before the spiral would take over and make him sleep in the garden out of his imaginary shame.

Stevie opened the door and his face lighted up instantly, Laszlo’s hand moved close to his own face with a finger up to signal him to keep quiet. The young lad nodded opening the door more, but a loud whine came out of his lips when he saw the heavy trucks beside Laszlo.

“Stevie? Who is it?”

Your voice vibrated through the walls enveloping Laszlo like a distant memory and a fresh breath of air at the same time.

Stevie mumbled something “Nobody Madam, only some funny head playing with bells at night” he said as Laszlo nodded at him.

He left the coat at Stevie with his gloves and hat making his way to the bedroom upstairs trying to be as quiet as possible, your vanity the first thing that appeared to his sight, he shifted lightly so he could spot your figure reflected in the mirror without being seen.

You were already in your white night dress, hair down wrapped in a braid that rested on your shoulder, his own dark blue night gown draped over you making you appear even smaller, a book resting in your hand, the other hand toying with the fabric of his gown. A soft sigh left your lips and a little smile, you are liking the book. You turn the page with your features lighting up by interest, he felt almost guilty to interrupt you.

“Guten Abend, my love”

Your head shot up, eyes wide in surprise, a smile growing on your lips as he walked inside the room revealing his presence. A sense of nervousness still on him.

“Laszlo” you called rushing to him, discarding the book and throwing the covers onside, closing the distance between the two of you by jumping out the bed like an excited child. Your hands wrapped quickly around his neck, you pulled him in, lips clashing against one another. He smiled in the kiss, eyes a bit teary as the happiness you were able to blossom into his chest since the first time he met you was still there. He cupped your cheek with his left hand, the kiss being long and followed by little short ones, and then again a long one.

“You should have told me” You whispered and he smiled at you noticing how you also got a bit of tears streaming down your cheeks, but all due to happiness. You picked his right hand kissing it lovingly, oh that ritual of yours, that mindless action you always did to kiss the part of him he despised the most.

“Welcome home, my love”

He smiled widely, so wide he felt his cheeks and jaw hurt, while he leaned his forehead against yours and you closed your eyes enjoying it. Your little telepathy thing, like he could pour his thoughts to you and vice versa.

In the meanwhile Stevie kept himself far from the two of you not wanting to interrupt or witness anything he shouldn’t. Laszlo pulled back from that position as he stared down at you, your eyes met again as you gulped down a little, his eyes travelling onto your neck as none of you seemed able to pick what words to let out first, too many informations gathered in six months that letters couldn’t covert.

His eyes raising up to yours, you moved first guiding his right hand still safe in your grasp inside that warm robe hiding your body, his fingers meeting with the obscenely thin fabric of your night dress, the shape of your breast clear under his touch, his thumb brushing over your nipple earning an immediate reaction from you.

His breath itched, his tongue wetting his lips as you kept supporting his weak arm while his hand discovered once more what hidden treasure was the body of his wife.

His left hand undoing the silky bow around your neck that kept that useless piece of clothing closed, your breasts being exposed as he leaned his head down lacing his lips with you nipple and giving it a tempting suck, his tongue roaming over it as a sense of home and comfort surged into his stomach, then he spoke and his hot breath against your wet nipple made you shiver.

“Have you done the exercises that I gave you?”

“No”

His eyes shoot up at you, a mix between the need to scold you and desire in them.

“I could do it only with your letters” you added.

“Not touching yourself enough must have been painful, exasperating, you could have brought yourself to hysteria”

“I know, but I was waiting for this moment”

He smirked, the idea to be a vital part of your sexual expression turning him on immensely.

“Which letter was your favourite?”

“The one where you described your fingers inside me, I could imagine it so clearly while I was doing it to myself”

He almost let out a groan only by the sound of your words, the need to go knuckles deep inside you now almost impossible to hold back as the image of your distressed figure rolling onto the sheets trying to emulate that pleasure he only can give you clouded his mind.

His left hand almost angrily undoing the fabric belt the nightgown around your waist before moving behind your back to pull it off your shoulders, you gently let go of his right hand helping him in the task, your hands now tugging his jacket, his waistcoat, beginning already with his shirt buttons, you were so in need, but he was the same. He tugged his shirt off probably ripping off some buttons, the urgency you both felt filling the air.

His eyes trying to take in all your figure as you finally let go of that white dress.

“Oh, meine Frau, no statue or artwork or inspiration I have seen in this travel equals your beauty” he groaned as he felt like he almost forgot how he worshipped your body, how your only presence triggered obscene desires through him.

There was almost a moment of suspense before he leaned his warm body against yours, skin on skin again.

His erection already brushing over your lower stomach as you guided him onto the bed with you laying down for him. “Laszlo” you were about to beg him not to make you wait, not to tease you but his left hand fingers were already between you legs and a yelp of pleasure left you lips immediately.

“Soaked wet without me even touching you”

He was so pleased, you didn’t need to look at his face to know, but you whimpered when his long finger pushed inside you, he knew it, he knew exactly how to touch you, how to manipulate all of you. His lips laced to your neck, he sucked on it, bit it, hickeys soon will follow the passage of him. He is back.

To see your own neck pale and empty from his marks pained you everyday, but now he is at home and there won’t be a single centimetre of you spared. Another moan followed as his mouth found your nipples again, your legs trembling as a second finger joined the first one making you gasp for air. The ultimate pleasure approaching in you too quickly, abnormally quickly, but you missed him so much and six months without his care on you was a torment.

His prideful smile gave you the freedom not to restrain your pleasure, your hips jolting up and trembling, more wetness gathering on his fingers before he pulled them out knowing that it would make you feel empty.

He punished you with distance as he sat down on the bed, you crawled over him, legs still feeling like jelly as you forced yourself to straddle him. You didn’t need to rest, you wanted him to bring you to exhaustion and he knew it, he knew you won’t wait anymore. So you aligned him with your folds, his hard cock opening his way into you easily thanks to your recent orgasm, a loud growl leaving Laszlo’s lips.

“My wife, it appears to me that you’re back being a virgin after only six months away from me”

You blushed because his words made you sensitive and proud in a very peculiar way, you moaned slowly beginning to ride him as he kept muffling how tight you’re pressing his forehead against your chest, his left arm wrapping around you. You voiced your pleasure freely, fingers tangling to the back of his head, now it was your turn to guide his pleasure, to set the rhythm, but the pace was slow and deep, the desire still feverish in you, but the closeness inspiring you tenderness.

“How horrible to rest in the cold Wien without you, how empty to walk without your presence” he spoke directly to your chest, to your heart “every achievement was not an achievement if I couldn’t share it with you” he confessed, his hot breath against your breasts.

“You’re back now, next time we will come with you”

You smiled as his eyes shone looking up at you “my wife”

He loved to call you that, he always did, the pride in his voice when he asked you to be his wife the first time came back to your memory. You didn’t need many nicknames, wife and husband, the holy duo, the balance, the symmetry.

“I love you, my husband”

You moaned against him, his fingers digging into your skin, his right hand settling over your hip.

You couldn’t guess how much it lasted, you impaled deliciously yourself over him, he loved to stare at you going on your own on top of him, love it, express fully your feminine power. His left hand teasing your clit sapiently mimicking your movements making it nauseatingly perfect, your mind clouded by pleasure. He cursed, he growled biting onto the side of your breast when filling you up and gaining another moan from you, he held you down as he kept rubbing your clit until he felt your walls clasp deliciously around him, he still didn’t want to move.

He loved to see you helpless, washed over by pleasure, legs jerking aimlessly and fingers pulling onto him and his hair.

You didn’t take time to recover from that second orgasm, his skilled fingers knowing their ways around you, you bowed your head joining your lips again, you still couldn’t believe it.

“I am such a lucky man to have you”

You smiled kissing his forehead “I am lucky with such a husband like you”

You stayed like this, hugging, the time to talk will come, the time to exchange gifts and come back to routine. But not now. After countless minutes you slowly shifted from that position, freeing his hard on from you but slowly moving beside his sitting figure staying on your all fours, the braid that held your hair almost completely loose.

“Come my husband, you only had one orgasm, I know you love even numbers”

The next morning the light from the window hit his eyes, he frowned stirring as he blinked tiredly. Your figure tangled to his in bed, the covers over the both of you. He kissed your forehead out of habit, the marks already forming on your neck made him proud, your regular breathing and gentle perfume mixed with the sweat of sex made his senses alive. You felt him move and woke up pretty easily, probably due to have slept alone for so long. You smiled at each other, no words yet needed, a soft kiss placed on each others lips.

The a soft sound, more like little sounds following one another, little feet rushing down the hallway.

“Mama” being whispered by a very shy boy, his clear brown hair peaking up from the doors.You smirked covering Laszlo completely with the duvets.

“My baby” you said sitting up holding the covers over your body.

“Mami!” He gasped surprised “what happened to your neck?”

“Oh, it is normal my baby, is it so late?”

He nodded and you smiled as he hopped on top of the messy bed, Laszlo smirked from underneath the covers, it seems like somebody took a habit of sneaking into the big bed.

You smiled as your boy resembled so much his father, he crawled to move to your lap and that’s when Laszlo sat up with a loud “Who’s in my bed?” holding his hand up like a claw.

The boy squared but soon threw himself against his father’s chest.

“Apa visszatért!!!” He shouted so loud at you like you didn’t notice Laszlo at all and you chuckled finding the two of them so adorable.

“I am going to get some breakfast done” you said willing to leave them their space. Laszlo nodded at you as you wrapped yourself into your dress and then the thick nightgown. You could hear them talk softly, Laszlo was all about speaking to him in his mother’s language but also in German, so your boy was always mixing the three. “Have you being a good master of the house while I was away?” “Yes Papa, I have been extra good and mommy was happy too, but it is not like when you’re here” Laszlo’s little chuckle won you over even by distance. You had to learn Hungarian through Laszlo, even if you were lucky enough to know German already. But how sweet it was to learn along with your boy.

“Little Andrea woke you up, mrs Kreizler?” The cook, a very nice and good hearted woman asked once you reached the kitchen still wrapped in your night clothes and redoing your braid.

“He did, but his father is back, I couldn’t detain him in any way” You assured as you instructed about the breakfast to make something special. When everything was ready and settled you saw the two of them coming downstairs together, Andrea holding his father’s weak hand into his, still babbling in German to him. The two of them still in their night clothes, you loved to be unruly with them, half of the world outside would be shocked to see a family have breakfast in their night clothes, but who cares. You sat all together as Laszlo begun narrating about his travel, Andrea almost forgetting to eat as he sat down staring at his dad with shiny eyes like he could disappear any time.

“Andrea, at least the juice” you said and he nodded vehemently in particular after you whispered something to his ear.

“Do you have secrets with me?” Laszlo inquired with a smirk, his messy hair a blessing in such bright day.

“Always had” you said with a smirk and he chuckled softly before standing up and leaving for a moment coming back with some boxes.

He handed his boy one and two to you, while Andrea was busy unwrapping the gift Laszlo moved behind your sitting figure “open the small one first”

You obeyed quietly as the box was clearly hinting it was jewellery, inside you found some white gold and blue sapphires earrings.

“Laszlo, you ..” He shushed you softly “come on, wear them for me, jewellery over night dress, a new fashion from Europe” He joked softly but you obliged his wishes putting them on, Andrea making happy cheering sounds as he found the model train of his dreams. The earrings dropped beautifully on you, framing the new Laszlo loved so much “I knew only a Venus like you could sport them” he said making you blush, he always spoke in a way that made you feel like courting never ended.

“What about this?” You asked about the second box and Laszlo smirked just gesturing you to go on. Inside there was a study for a portrait, your portrait, clearly inspired by the picture Laszlo had with himself of you.

“I met this young painter in Wien, a bit struggling with money but extremely talented as you can see, a craftsman that works with gold, I invited him to come here next month and work on your portrait, he fell in love with your figure already, I already know I will have to guard your safety.”

“What is his name?”

“Oh, he is not famous, Gustav Klimt”

“Well, we can make him famous then” you said and Laszlo just smiled more as you kissed his lips to thank him for the beautiful gifts, knowing Laszlo he probably had way more hidden in his trucks “I knew you’d say something this kind of sweet”

“Mama, you look beautiful” Andrea called you staring like he was waiting for you to say something and you smiled nodding “yes, now it is the perfect time”

“For what?” Laszlo asked as you took his hand guiding him to the living room.

“Please, take a sit now” you said slowly guiding him to his armchair, the comfort of the familiar place relaxed him, the fresh flowers in the vase, the books laid on the table.

“Andrea has a surprise for you” you said leaning to sit on the arm of the chair looking up a his confused face, but he was unable to let go of that smile creeping on his lips.

“Come inside darling” you called “we are ready”

You took Laszlo’s right hand guiding it on your lap, the curiosity already eating him alive as little Andrea came holding his little violin, still looking extra cute in that night dress that made him resemble some cute baby penguin. He puffed his chest blushing as you gave him a nod of encouragement, Laszlo’s eyes shining to see his son like this and the chemistry you two have.

“I have learned this piece to welcome you back home” he announced as his shaky voice betrayed a bit his nervousness.

He placed the violin carefully onto his shoulder resting his cheek on it, your hands holding Laszlo’s while tapping with you finger to keep the tempo for Andrea. The melody was simple, but quite impressive for such a young player, Laszlo was unable to look away from his son, from the way he relaxed while playing, for the way you clearly helped him to gain the confidence to do this little performance.

He looked up at you as you two shared that look of complicity.

Life was bright over Kreizler’s household.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme

Let me know if you want to get tagged too <3

#dr laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler #dr kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler x you #dr laszlo kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler imagine #laszlo kriezler x reader #laszlo kreizler x y/n #laszlo kreizler fanfiction #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler headcanons #laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler imagine #the alienist x reader #the alienist fanfic

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nxrthmizu · 3 years ago

Text

Crash and Burn

fandom | miraculous ladybug

genre | salt, lila salt

pairing | n/a

w.c | 3.2k

author's note | hey remember that lila salt fic i promised? this isn't it but this is something i made today so yep. please accept this as an apology for yknow. me promising to write and. not doing it.

Enough was enough.

“Marinette, stop accusing Lila! She just wants to make friends!”

“Take the high road.”

“Be a good model student, Marinette.”

Enough. Was. Enough.

Marinette had the connections, the power, the choice to make Lila’s entire world crumble apart. The only thing that stood between the liar’s demise was the tiniest pinch of morality and self-restraint— And no, that self-restraint did not come in the form of Tikki. Even the kwami, who had to be an aggregation of all the good and nice things in the world, was fed up and ready to retaliate.

“What a joke.” Lila cackled, tossing a chunk of her sausage hair over her shoulder flamboyantly. The two girls were in the bathroom, with Lila smirking in front of the sink and Marinette a little distance away from her. “You can make my world crumble? What is this, a threat?”

“A promise.” Marinette corrected. “Stop telling lies. Come clean to every one. No more lying about knowing celebrities left and right, no more making excuses about not being able to take your own notes, no more making up ‘diseases’ just so your life gets a little more convenient. To be frank, I really don’t care what happens to you— But by making these empty promises to introduce my classmates to great ‘celebrities’, you’re ruining their futures. Stop.”

“And what are you going to do if I don’t?” Lila sneered, face twisted into an ugly grin. “You going to cry in front of the class? Try and convince them that I, the one they adore— That I am lying?”

“No.” Marinette’s eyes were clear when she met Lila’s. The clouds of self-doubt that used to hover over the bright, shining star inside her soul had now dissipated, letting the bluenette emit a confident, glowing appearance as she met the liar head on. “I’m just going to keep my promise.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Lila headed off to a modelling shoot after school, pleased at the prospect of spending more time with Adrien. There were a couple tendrils of Marinette’s words hanging behind in her mind— Did the girl mean what she said? Did she actually… Was she actually capable of causing Lila’s downfall? … Surely not. Marinette may have once been the ‘Everyday Ladybug’, but there was no way she was that competent, there was no way the girl was capable of plotting.

The Italian hummed, brushing away thoughts of the annoying bluenette from her mind. She was going on a photoshoot— One that was going cause the rise and burst of her career, the one that was going to make her name a globally-known one. Unfortunately for Lila, her plans were going to be derailed quite soon— In fact, as soon as Gabriel Agreste’s car rolled into the parking lot of the shoot location.

“Explain this, Mlle. Rossi.” Gabriel’s nostrils flared as he pointed to the tabloid article on his tablet. The Italian girl froze, the headlines seared into her eyes, big and black and bold, shooting poison right into the core of her body, paralysing her cell by cell starting from her heart. “What is the meaning of this?”

‘Adrien Agreste Reported To Be Harassed by Fellow Model’— The image under the caption was one that was clearly taken by a hidden photographer. The picture was framed with leafy foliage, which suggested that the camera was tucked up in a tree. Despite the distance, it was quite obvious in the image that Adrien was reeling away, disgusted and uncomfortable as a faceless woman in an orange blazer, back turned to the camera— Invaded his personal space.

The subtitle was the cream on the cupcake.

‘Witnesses State Gabriel Agreste Ignorant of Workplace Harassment’.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

As if things couldn’t quite go down a worser path, Lila returned home to a fuming mother and an unexpected visitor.

“Lila! You come here right this instant!” The diplomat demanded as soon as the front door opened, her daughter shrinking slightly at the tone and pitch that her mother was using. The last time her mother had been this angry— Well, it was when she got expelled from her last school. “I can’t believe what you’ve done! If it weren’t for your kind classmate, lord knows how long you would’ve continued with this!”

The Italian meekly followed her mother into the living room, eyes widening until they were as large as saucers, mouth agape at the last person she expected to see sitting on the couch.

Marinette smiled kindly, waving at the girl, looking every bit the part of the innocent, pure, kind child that every parent wanted to have. Before Lila could release a torrent of questions about what the hell Marinette Dupain-Cheng was doing in her living room, her mother charged on, beginning to take out her anger on her daughter while a literal angel sat on the sofa, cradling a box of pastries from her family’s bakery.

“Your friend here tells me that you’ve been taking absences from school to go on trips to help humanity!” Mme. Rossi exploded, waving her arms around madly. “She says she’s here to share her notes from the classes you’ve missed! You’ve never left Paris this year! What’s this I hear about flying off to the kingdom of— What was it called again, Marinette dear?”

“Achu.” Provided the bluenette helpfully, the diplomat’s expression instantly softening when she talked to the other teen in the living room.

“Ah, yes. Thank you, dear.” The woman turned back to her daughter, instantly snapping on a mask of anger in a matter of a fraction of a second. “What’s this about flying off to this kingdom of Achu to help homeless orphans with some random prince?”

“Um…” Lila piped up, wriggling as her brain churned at 200 lies per hour, trying to whip up a cover of some sort.

“I’m not done! Your friend here is such a helpful child that she even went as far as to ask her family doctor is there’s a cure for your… Lying disease!” Mme. Rossi practically roared, breathing flames as if she were an intimidating dragon, her daughter flinching away from the heat. “I’ve never heard of anything more ridiculous! And then there’s the fact that you lied to your classmates about having tinnitus?!”

“I actually do have tinnitus!” Lila cut in forcibly, widening her eyes to make herself look more pitiful. “I was just afraid to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry!”

“Bullshit!”

“Um… Sorry to interrupt, Mme. Rossi,” Marinette piped up, the diplomat instantly cooling down as she faced the bluenette, a soft smile tracing the Italian woman’s lips. “But it’s getting rather late and my parents would love me home soon. I also have some tests to revise for tonight, so I think I should get going.”

“Oh, of course, dear.” Mme. Rossi hastily got up to help the bluenette to the door, shooting a warning glare at her daughter— ‘Sit still and don’t you dare go anywhere’, the glare read. “Feel free to come over again anytime you want, dear. I’m not home often, but you are such a sweet child. I’m sure Lila could learn a lot from you.”

“Thanks for having me as well, Mme. Rossi. I really like your home. I left the pastries on the counter— Make sure to warm the curry puffs before you eat them.” Marinette returned the smile, bowing slightly to the older woman as a sign of respect.

“Thank you for the pastries as well, Marinette. I ought to visit your parents’ bakery sometime when I’m free.” Mme. Rossi opened the door kindly for the bluenette, waving the girl off with an affectionate smile. Her parents must be so lucky to have such a sweet little thing like her, Mme. Rossi sighed internally, turning the key so she locked the door. And she seems to be a high-scoring student as well.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Lila seethed, having been grounded by her mother. As far as Mme. Rossi was concerned, there was a boarding school not too far away from their current residence, and by the next week, the Italian girl would be transferred over. Lila had never hated Dupain-Cheng as much as she did in that moment.

Still furious, the Italian snapped her laptop open, too angry to bother with the fact she might’ve scratched the surface. Clicking into the web browser, she started to type in the words ‘Ladyblog’— That was, before a news article caught her eye.

‘Jagged Stone Interview Reveals Underage, Obsessed Fan’.

What on Earth…

As soon as Lila clicked into the link, the news footage from the interview immediately begin to play. The date stamp on it showed that it had aired last night— Which meant that she would’ve missed it, since her mother was too busy yelling at her to turn on the television to watch Nadja Chamack’s daily news.

“As soon as I heard this rumour about some underage teenage girl claiming that she had saved my cat on an airport runway, I called Penny and asked her to book a slot for me to clarify this,” Jagged Stone said grimly, dressed in more formal attire as he sat in the comfortable, cushioned chair of the news station, with Nadja nodding equally seriously beside him. “Let me clarify— I’ve never owned a cat. I’m allergic to fur. The only pet I’ve had was Fang, and he’s an al-li-ga-tor. Not a cat. Whatever the girl is claiming, she’s obsessed and making up stories.”

“It’s also kind of bewildering that she saved it on an airport runway,” Nadja continued, shaking her head in disappointment. “That kind of thing only happens in dramas— It’s too dangerous for anyone besides authorised workers to be on airport runways.”

“Right, right!” Jagged agreed instantly. “The whole rumour is just really baffling.”

“M. Jagged, may I ask what kind of effect these rumours have on a celebrities’ career?” Nadja continued, leading the conversation on like a professional.

“Well, rumours that circulate around tend to have really bad effects, and the worse ones can hang around for a long, long time. Tabloids are often spun off from rumours, baseless and with no evidence. Those tabloids will never truly disappear, so they can leave a mark on a celebrity’s reputation as some people will believe anything— Even things they read from un-cited tabloids.”

“That is simply terrible. Have you ever had any cases of rumours created by underaged teens before this?”

“I’ve had quite a number, but none of them really got as big as this one. From what Penny has found from digging around, the teen girl managed to spread the rumour through her school and onto a once-popular blog.” Jagged explained. “Penny has also found out that the same girl has claimed that I’ve written songs for her to thank her for saving my cat! I would never write songs and dedicate them to an underaged girl— Trust me. If I could do such a thing, I’d already have written a dozen in honour of my niece— She’s my favourite designer.”

Nadja smiled at that sentence. “Then—“

The news footage cut off abruptly as Lila slammed her laptop shut, too upset to continue watching.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

On the other side of Paris, Alya was pacing around her room frantically, wondering why on earth Lila wasn’t picking up on her calls. She’d left at least four dozen messages to the Italian, who was absent from school that day. There had been a couple whispers here and there about why she was missing— Rose had suggested another impromptu trip to Achu.

Lila’s absence wasn’t the weirdest part of the day, however.

That award would go to Marinette, who walked into class with a smile, the slightest sprinkles of delight colouring her bluebell eyes when she spotted Lila’s empty seat.

Growing in frustration, Alya threw herself onto her bed, phone clattering onto the mattress with her. Within the next few minutes, however, her phone suddenly started exploding with notifications. Excited at the prospect of Lila finally texting back, Alya turned on her phone, only to be disappointed by the notifications all clamouring from the class group chat.

Kim had sent a link to the chat— Without hesitation, Alya clicked into it, frowning when she saw Nadja and Jagged appear on the screen. Throughout the interview, the colour on the Ladyblogger’s face only paled by the second until she was as white as a sheet, and if it were halloween at that time, she would’ve won the best costume award for being a ghost.

There must… There must’ve been a mistake.

A notification from Lila’s number made the blogger perk up, instantly clicking into the conversation— But her newfound hope didn’t last very long.

[Lila]

Hi, Alya. This is Lila’s mom. She’s currently grounded right now. Is there anything important you need to tell her?

[Alya]

Oh, nothing much… I just wanted to ask where she was.

[Lila]

She’s at home.

[Alya]

Okay, thanks.

Flopping onto her bed, Alya begin thinking, revising over the past few months like it was an old clip. Lila’s exciting adventures and interactions with celebrities of every kind— Lila going overseas and face timing the entire class— Lila letting her in on the secrets of being Ladybug’s friend…

… Marinette trying to tell them that Lila was lying…

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The class was awfully silent the next day. Adrien was absent as well— A social worker was looking into his home life as a result of the tabloid that arose. Things for the blonde could either get better or worse from then on, as the matters were still foggy and things hadn’t cleared up yet. The blonde maintained contact with his friends, however, calling and texting them whenever he could.

“Class, settle down.” Mlle. Bustier stepped into the class, looking very tense and uncomfortable. “Today, we will have a guest, so please be on your best behaviours, alright?”

Just as the teacher finished speaking, a tall, regal-looking Italian woman entered the classroom, a cowering principal and a meek-looking Lila in tow. The class brightened slightly at the sight of their friend— But by the way she wasn’t looking into their eyes… Things weren’t going to be good.

“Good morning. I am Mme. Rossi, Lila’s mother.” The woman begin speaking, her firm and no-nonsense tone instantly making every student sit straight, their eyes too afraid to look anywhere else but the Italian diplomat. “It has come to my attention that my daughter has been taking absences from school to do charity work— And I have to clarify that this is a lie. Lila has been doing nothing but holing herself up in her room, lying to me and saying that there are no classes due to akumas.” The Italian diplomat glowered at Damocles. “What’s even more baffling is the fact that neither her homeroom nor the principal bothered to check up with me despite a student having extended periods of absence with no note or email written whatsoever.”

The class was so quiet that they could hear the quiver of Mlle. Bustier’s trembling lip.

“In addition, I’ve been kindly told that Lila has claimed to have a lying disease, which is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard this week.” It was impossible to miss the way the Italian diplomat was glaring daggers at both Mlle. Bustier and Damocles. “No one bothered to look it up online to see if it’s actual disorder, nor did anyone call me to confirm and ask for a doctor’s note, which is standard procedure.” Chills burst over the room, making every one shiver as the woman hissed out her words.

“Mme. Rossi, we didn’t want to disturb your busy schedule—” Damocles begin, only to be blown backwards from the sheer intensity of Mme. Rossi’s glower.

“M. Damocles, standard procedures exist for a reason. Unless you’d like to tell me about any other things you’ve been letting my daughter get away with?”

“N— No, Mme.”

The Italian diplomat continued on her war path. “My daughter also claimed to have tinnitus, am I correct?”

“Y— Yes, Mme.” Mlle. Bustier answered when it seemed like no one was going to.

“And I heard that the class seating arrangement was shifted to accommodate for that?” The homeroom teacher didn’t dare answer this time, for it seemed like whatever she said would be the incorrect answer. “And apparently, my daughter has also been faking broken wrists and requesting for her classmates to complete her work for her.” Mme. Rossi was practically breathing flames at that point, “And I am incredibly upset at the lack of action from the homeroom teacher.”

No one could breath.

“I have many concerns about the running of this schooling facility, and I expect to discuss this with M. Damocles privately after this. However, there is still something to be done.” Mme. Rossi swept her gaze towards her daughter, who found the floor incredibly interesting at that point of time. “Lila? Something you’d like to say to your classmates?”

“… I’m sorry for lying to you.” Lila mumbled resentfully.

“Louder, Lila. No one can hear you.”

“I’m sorry for lying to you!” Lila swallowed, bursting like an explosion that had finally been triggered, tears in her eyes and fists hatefully curled. “I’m sorry for lying about my diseases and injuries. I’m sorry for making you do my work,” She spat. “Sorry for causing any inconveniences.”

Mme. Rossi raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “Is that all?”

Lila glared at her mother, who was completely unfazed. “Oh, so you want an apology from me? Fine!” She turned to the class, a maniacal glint in her eyes as she sneered at the class, a few gasps puffing from around the room as they caught their first glimpse of the liar that resided in the ‘harmless’ shell of Lila Rossi. “I’m sorry that you are all such idiots that you all fell for everything. I’m sorry that Marinette has such terrible, untrusting classmates that turned their backs on her even though she was still a goody-two shoes till the end, even though she still wanted to help you sorry peasants. I’m sorry that you were all so goddamn gullible! There! Good enough for you?”

Shock was etched into the faces of every human in the classroom— Including Mlle. Bustier, M. Damocles, and Mme. Rossi themselves. Clearly, that part of the apology had not been part of the plan.

“Did I miss something?” Said a sweet voice, followed by the presence of a bluenette, her hair tied in a half-up. A royal blue blazer decorated her lithe form, accompanied by a smart-looking white blouse and a black plaited skirt. Formal had never looked so good on anyone— And if someone didn't know better, they'd think that the bluenette was a young lawyer, emerging victorious from her first successful case.

“Marinette!” Alya exclaimed.

“I’m sorry that you’re such an annoying, little, pest.” Lila bit in the girl’s face, disdain colouring her features as she ignored her mother’s enraged gasp behind her.

The bluenette simply smiled, unaffected by the liar who had crashed and burned like the liar once wished upon her. Marinette Dupain-Cheng stood at her full height, the perfect image of grace and poise as she maintained her composure, quite unlike her nemesis, who thrashed under her mother’s restraining hands.

“And I’m sorry that you didn’t take my promise to heart.”

this can count as adrien redemption depending on you cause ehhh i dont like how passive he is but i havent caught up with the recent episodes, he might have become better. idk.

also where the hell is my miraculous taglist i cant find it so eep. no tagging ppl ig oops

#miraculous ladybug #the tales of ladybug and chat noir #marinette dupain-cheng #lila rossi #lila salt #rossi salt #ml class #ml salt #ml class salt #marinette deserves better #badass marinette #lila rossi lies #lila's lies are exposed #adrien agrete #alya cesaire #cady writesss «

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photiniainsummer · 3 years ago

Text

Dancing with the Dark

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: You've taken to lingering around Dark's office late at night when he thinks he's alone with his old jazz standards.

Or so you thought, until one night you find the door open.

You've always wondered what exactly he does behind it...

It's listen to music. Get your mind out of the gutter. ;)

(second person POV, gender neutral reader)

Word Count: 6860

Author’s Note: No warnings - this is really all just tooth-rotting, tender, slow build romance. There is dancin' and smoochin', though. 👀 Also posted to AO3!

It wasn’t something you had intended to intrude on. The Manor is big, but not that big, and it just so happens that the quickest route to your bedroom means you have to pass Dark’s office suite. As your nights have gotten later and later, trying to keep tabs on Mark and the poor, scattered egos he’s made and dumped, more and more often have you caught soft, crackling music drifting out from behind your sort-of boss’ heavy office door.

At first, you mostly ignored it, noting it with a small smile and continuing to bed. It’s really none of your business what the shadowy man does in his free time, you figured. Plus, you all manage to live on top of one another, despite the Manor’s size, which puts privacy at a premium - who are you to deny him some when he can get it? But as time has passed and you’ve worked intensely together, the original enmity between you two has turned into a professional respect and eventually, you’d hazard, a friendly banter. At least, such as Dark is willing to joke around.

And so, tempted by your mutual softening, and maybe a little curiosity as to what kind of music your ‘leader’ listens to, you’ve found yourself pausing in your path to bed when you catch him playing a record. At first, you only stopped briefly at the top of the stairs with his office across the landing from you, taking a moment to appreciate a few bars of dreamy jazz. It was peaceful, almost magnetically melodic. But you quickly grew self-conscious in your eavesdropping, and, not wanting to seem nosy (despite the fact you definitely were being nosy), moved along to your room.

You crossed the landing to the bit of wall near his door, next, but kept a keen eye on the stairs behind you in case you needed to make a sudden retreat. For a week or so, you took longer, lingering there at the mouth of the short hallway to his office. You would take in a full song before you got antsy, concerned Dark might get up to make a late-night cup of tea and discover you. Even so, you had found it hard to pull yourself away from the lilting voices of his records - time seemed to slow, for just a little while, and you felt you breathed easier, deeper even, once you were back in your bedroom.

Finally, now, and most nights for the last month, you’ve let yourself truly relax just outside his door. He never leaves, not that you’ve seen, and so you’ve taken to resting in the shadow of the short hallway and letting the hypnotic drags of a brush across a snare, crooning voices over a string quartet wrap around you. Dark’s music is never truly jazzy, never truly swinging, and it soothes you like very little else can these days. It’s steady - you think that’s what’s so appealing about it - drawing you in at the end of a long day for a moment of reprieve, floating outside of time in the gentle shade of this corner of the Manor.

You’ve gotten used to it, to be sure. The sleepy, tripping dance of a horn greets you at the end of each long day spent combing through Mark’s videos, hunting for hints as to his next move. The quiet moments spent letting the gentle jazz unwind some tight thing in your chest have become just as much your routine as they are Dark’s - and you understand why he takes the time. Until you started lingering to listen, you were harder up for time alone than you thought with barely a moment to spend in your own head. Everything was focused on maneuvering around Mark, a seemingly endless game of cat-and-mouse that left you tossing and turning and jittering yourself into an exhausted unconsciousness each night. But now, you fall asleep faster, wake up feeling more rested having actually relaxed before bundling down under your covers. You had found a little corner of peace, thanks to Dark. And, perhaps, thanks to your damned nosiness, as the man himself had called it once.

Only occasionally as you lean against the wallpaper have you allowed yourself to think about the man behind the door. For all your collaboration, Dark is still a mysterious, calculating, and distant figure. It’s by his own making, too. He’s been content to work closely with you planning Mark’s downfall, but keeps his own cards so close to his chest you have to wonder if he can even see them now, so to speak.

Perhaps he knows them well enough not to need to.

You’ve learned not to pry too much about any of the egos’ pasts and what they remember of them, unless you’re just in the mood for awkward, dead-end conversations. Wilford doesn’t seem troubled in the moment, human bouncy ball that he is, but responds vaguely - even for him - before up and disappearing for a few days. Google spouts some kind of technical jargon about his assembly warehouse that you can barely keep up with, then focuses intently on changing the subject. The Host only gives you one of his polite little smiles and reminds you that your futures are ‘of a more pressing nature’ than his past is.

The only one you’ve totally avoided trying to bring up the subject with is Dark. Your first real conversation had edged on it, and his reaction - aura practically blowing all the lightbulbs in the room, crackling copies of himself writhing in rage - had been pretty clearly in the ‘not positive’ camp. You’ve not had the stomach to unnecessarily incite his ire, so most of what you know about him, you’ve put together yourself. A vague understanding of his blended nature, the people he was before, their relationships to Mark… But it’s all guesses and deductive work about people long gone from the plane you inhabit. Grasping at shadows and context clues to paint a portrait of how the being, who deeply dislikes the outsize attention his central role as Mark’s primary ‘villain’ commands, came to be.

Yet, you do know some things about what he’s like. That he doesn’t seem to need to eat or take breaks of any kind. That he’s single-mindedly devoted to stopping Mark in his tracks, and intensely methodical about the whole endeavor. Even when you think you’ve caught him reading something for fun, it turns out to be Mark-adjacent. It’s impressive, you admit, but also why hearing those strains of songs sung long ago, finding him doing something unproductive has captured you so. To think of him taking time for himself, doing nothing but enjoying some music… it simultaneously feels incredibly decadent and comforting. For all his hardworking exterior, there are quiet moments Dark takes to relax. Even more than his music, that soothes something in your heart you didn’t even know was tense.

Plus, good lord. The man listens to croony, moony, love-sick music late at night when the rest of the Manor has retreated to their own separate corners. How could you not melt?

Yet it’s impossible for you not to wonder what exactly he does behind his office door. It’s always firmly shut, and even with the proclivity toward psychic abilities in the Manor’s residents, you can’t completely school the curiosity it inspires. Listening to a couple croon about the stars or something equally cheesy from your spot out in the hall, you’ll often picture him relaxing in one of the high-backed armchairs situated near the heavy fireplace. Maybe he’s shut the door to his workspace proper, allowed himself some wine from the cellar, propped his feet up… Maybe he’s truly relaxing, thinking of something altogether having nothing to do with his work. It’s anachronistic enough to your steadfast image of him to be ridiculous, but you also can’t help but hope it exists in some form, protected behind the dark wood that muffles already-quietly trilling piano keys.

This is why, late one night, you’re stopped in your tracks at the foot of the stairs, already able to hear his music. You’d been just about to pull yourself up the stairs by the handrails, eyes bleary from staring at your screen all day when you’d picked out the dreamy march of brass. You’ve only ever been able to hear his records when you’re standing on the landing - is something wrong? Cautiously, you ascend the tightly winding stairs, your thoughts mirroring the spiraling steps as they scramble, chasing away any haziness.

Reaching the landing, you find dancing firelight spilling out across the thick Persian rug there, Dark’s door cracked shockingly wide. The sight is almost obscene, illuminating the spot that has been your shadowy cocoon. It’s only made more stark by the clarity of the music that lilts through the air. You have the keen, embarrassed feeling that you should not be seeing what you’re seeing, that you’re intruding, infringing on something private - even though all you can see of the office is a little bit of wall just inside the door. Even so, the sudden need to stop this, to preserve something personal, quiet, safe for Dark overtakes you. You’re spurred into action, crossing the space on careful feet. You move to shut the door, to right this obvious wrong, but as your hand takes the old brass knob, the music from within murmurs tender thoughts of lovers embracing after an age apart. Even with your goal so firmly in mind, you can’t stop your eyes from flitting over the sliver of his office the crack in the door reveals.

And, oh, what it reveals.

As if intentionally centered for your view, Dark is, as you’ve imagined countless times, tucked into one of the armchairs near the fire. His suit jacket has been carefully folded and hung over the back of his chair, his starkly white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar to reveal a bit of the skin at his throat. More is revealed by the tilt of his head as he rests it back in the crook of the armchair’s wings.

You’ve never seen him so… undressed before. You immediately flush, embarrassedly shooing the thought away before it can become anything more than a passing observation. You’re thankful to see that his piercing eyes are gently shut, the breaths he draws steady and quiet. Even his aura is still, nonexistent except for his colorlessness. The dull ring that accompanies him, too, is almost completely silent. Whatever remains is drowned out by the softly crackling gramaphone to his side.

Although you know he doesn’t need to sleep, the tender image of him relaxed enough as to fall into it twists something so totally in your heart that it keeps you there, hand on the doorknob. You know you need to close the door back, and carefully, too, so you don’t pop whatever bubble of peace he’s floating in, but… It’s like having a dragonfly land on the tip of your finger, spotting a deer at the edge of your garden, catching the sun breaking over the horizon and truly beginning to dawn. How can you look away before it ends?

But you’re playing with fire in waiting for this moment to end, and, unfortunately, you get burned.

At least, it feels like you do. Suddenly, Dark’s head comes up, his eyes cracking open, and the cold heat of being caught scalds the back of your neck. You go to close the door, but it’s too late - his black eyes catch yours, and he calls your name. It’s gentle, a distant question, but it still makes your heart sink into some pitiful little depth of your stomach. There’s no way to play this off casually; he sounds truly awake. Either he wasn’t actually sleeping, or you’ve startled him enough to banish any hint of drowsiness from his voice. You’ve ruined this precious little thing, your knowledge of it revealed, and, gosh, you feel miserable for it. But you were called, and so you crack the door a little wider, an apology already on your lips.

“I was just going to shut it for you, I’m sorry,” you offer, quietly, as if trying not to interrupt the music still going at his elbow.

Dark doesn’t immediately respond, watching you with his usually piercing, contrasted eyes. Yet, they’re softer, tired - was he actually sleeping? The gramophone crackles like the low fire nearby. The record playing spins wobblingly, curled with age. The music is even dreamier unfiltered like this, giving the lowly-lit room a hint of unreality. Time seems to stretch between you, and when he finally speaks, his echoing, multi-throated voice only adds to the feeling you’re imagining things.

“...you may come in, if you would like.”

Something has gone horribly wrong. He, or another ego, is dying or has died, you’re certain of it. That, or Mark has figured out your plan to collect them and gotten to one first, maybe Yancy or the Captain, taking them out of the picture or scooping them up for himself. It’s the only obvious explanation your startled mind can offer for seeing Dark so markedly undone - his jacket, his shirt, the door…

Just as quickly, you realize how ridiculous the thought is. Dark wouldn’t look like a rather sleepy cat, cozied up to the fire with his music of choice, much less invite you so casually into his inner sanctum if things had gone to hell. No, there’d be more rending of reality or quick, tense words - a contingency plan thrown into action.

Which means you actually have to deal with being invited into his office late at night, a place you’ve hovered around and imagined for nigh on a month. You force yourself to respond casually, nodding as if this is normal for the two of you as you step over the threshold. He gestures for you to shut the door, and you do, gently putting it to rights before crossing the bookshelf-lined room to join him.

Like you always do. Obviously.

Once near the fire, you can see his aura is beginning to stir once more, the edges of him blurring with compelling darkness. In all the imagining you’d dared to entertain, you have never considered what his face would look like in these moments. His brow is relaxed, his expression open, and though his attention is fully fixed on you, it doesn’t cut through you or hunt for answers. He is merely regarding, the firelight only able to cast dancing shadows across his face for all its warmth. He’s relaxed. Relax-ing .

It’s, again, almost obscene. So much more than you anticipated. It’s one thing to imagine all that you have in theory, a different one to see it in truth, to experience it. And Dark, relaxing, is something you can barely take your eyes off of. He looks so much more like a person, undone after a long day of work, not quite ready to trip off to bed. With his aura so reserved, only mildly undulating at the very edges of him, you could almost dismiss it as a trick of the light, if not for how he absorbs and negates color.

Just a man.

Trying to stay casual, you prop yourself on the chair across from him, chin in hand, and you both watch each other for a moment. Both quiet. Both tired. Except your silence is tinged with subtle awe. At being invited in, at being here, at seeing him this way. It’s like the killer panther that typically stares you down from the shadows giving you a lazy, sun-warmed blink. As much as you try to treat Dark normally, there are moments when you can’t help being amazed - though it’s usually due to his eldritch powers and not him engaging in the simple act of sleeping.

Which begs the question - why leave the door open while he was so indisposed? Mild concern rises again, and you feel compelled to ask.

“Is everything okay…?”

You swear his eyes twinkle, amused. It’s hard to tell with the fire dancing like it is, his face remaining otherwise unchanged. You want to frown, wondering how loud your thoughts have been, but leave it.

“Yes... and no, as always. Nothing has changed, if that is what you mean. There is no need to worry.”

Coming from anyone else, it would be a formality. Your shoulders would stay hunched, your brow might furrow. But when Dark says it, when he speaks more quietly than you think you’ve ever heard him speak, it scatters whatever remaining fears his invitation had kicked up to the wind. You exhale. It is a comfort, but… It doesn’t explain why he invited you in. If you had really ruined his illusion of privacy, would he so readily let you walk over its remnants?

Suddenly, the answer is clear - so simple and obvious as to be startling. You speak before you can question the thought.

“Just want some company?”

Dark continues to watch you, but his gaze loses some of its lethargy. The panther stirs, considering. Weighing. Calculating. Heat rises up your neck ever so slightly - that will teach you to jump to conclusions.

But then he hums and gives an affirming nod. He gestures to the seat you’re leaning on. “Again, if you would like…”

Is that hesitancy?

You really feel like you’re dreaming as you settle across from him. He just wants company. He hesitated. He couldn’t even ask for it. Notably distant Dark, who never joins the rest of you for meals, for after-dinner drinks, who you rarely ever see outside his office… wants company. Although the chair’s winged back curls around you and radiates warmth absorbed from the fire, you find it difficult to relax as he continues to, turning his black-and-white gaze to the fire. Does he want conversation? Comfortable silence? How are you meant to parse what he’s wanting against the background of how surreal it is that you’re actually here?

But little things remind you that this is very much happening - the heat of the nearby fire, the music’s volume being slightly louder than you’d imagined. Although, you remind yourself, you’ve been hearing it muffled by heavy wood until now. It’s still relatively soft, just clearer up close. Your eyes fall to the gramophone piping it out. You’ve seen it in passing, but it registered about as much as the carved wooden globe on the mantle - furniture, meant as a finishing touch for the room. It looks like a true antique, though, its curved neck and ornate mouth lovingly maintained, polished to a shine apart from a few inevitable age spots. It’s close enough to Dark for him to operate without getting up, records tidily shelved underneath.

Your eyes edge back to the man seated so nearby. His slowly awakening aura is gently tugging at your attention, but he himself pays you no mind. That relieves you, somewhat, a silent answer to what his idea of ‘company’ is.

You realize, then, that you’ve never simply existed with him before. Throughout your time at the Manor, you two have only ever been in each other’s company to work or exchange information. There’s always been a goal, something to focus on, to accomplish. But now… there’s nothing. Nothing to do but exist.

Why does that suddenly feel so hard?

You must be thinking rather loudly, because Dark’s gaze slides leisurely from the flames onto you. He tilts his head, but not in that strange drifting motion it sometimes does, gravitating to some sick angle of its own accord. No, he’s just curious. You smile sheepishly, wondering if all your mental spinning has disturbed his peace, made him second-guess inviting you in.

“Too loud?”

Another amused flicker in his colorless eyes. “No louder than usual.”

So tired Dark has jokes , apparently. You give him a look. “Not exactly comforting.”

“To be fair, they are much quieter than when you arrived.” It’s almost a compliment - at least he’s not calling you loud anymore. Letting that be a comfort, you attempt to relax back into the chair. It, like the rest of the Manor’s furniture, feels straight out of a period drama with none of the damage of age. It’s still as soft as it was whenever Dark crafted this bubble of reality.

“It’s hard when you can’t control it - like I have noise cancelling headphones and can’t hear myself or anyone else.”

He hums. “You do not need to explain it to me.” Ouch. You look to the fire, taking the inside of your cheek between your teeth. When will you learn to keep your foot out of your mouth? Dark senses the sudden silence and mildly clears his throat. “I mean… Only to say that I understand you do not have the same ability. I do not hold it against you.”

His voice still has that quietness to it, a low, gentle undercurrent. It’s practically an apology, how he chooses his words. You shift, rubbing your finger joints with your other hand. You’ve been told it looks like hand-wringing, but it soothes you and the soreness there. “I think you saw it differently, when I first got here,” you hazard, just as quiet as you look back to him. Dark is watching you evenly, but something shifts in his brow as he recalls that first day. How different your tones had been, how differently you’d approached the other. You’re only feet from where that first conversation took place, and yet…

“...much was different, then,” he murmurs. “I was, perhaps… harsher than I should have been. I was unaccustomed to the sensation, not at my best.” He seems to stop himself there, closing something that was edging open before looking back to the fire. “I have grown used to it. The sound of your thoughts does not trouble me, but you have also improved at closing your mind. It is impressive, for someone unlike the rest of us.”

Good lord, maybe he actually is dying. You don’t think you’ve heard so many kind words from the man in all your months of living together. His gaze stays fixed on the flames, even as you stare at him, a little stunned. Silence draws out between you, filled only by tonight’s accompaniment. Yet, it doesn’t spark with nervous energy or prickle in pointed coldness. It crackles like ancient records warped with time, old oak burning to warm a place apart from the rest of existence. You settle deeper into the armchair, eyes turning from the shadow you’re keeping company.

He only barely catches your pleased little smile, finding it hard to look at you for too long.

From then on, Dark leaves the door open for you, although cracked much less wide than before. When you call it a night, you make your way through the Manor to your seat near his fire instead of right to bed. Although the weather of the world still reaches you, the place Dark maintains is always just slightly colder, so the fire’s warmth is never unwelcome. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you sit together in silence, but regardless of how chatty either of you feel, there’s always music curling underneath the moment. Dark doesn’t sleep like he did the first night, but he always has his coat off and that softer turn to his eyes by the time you arrive. It’s strange, at first, to see him switch so much between his work and leisure personas, and at first you wonder why he’s not always so relaxed. Surely things would be less tense.

And then you remember Wilford’s incessant gunfire, Google’s underlying objective, the weight of his very existence. Without his steady, cool glare, the Manor would be full of bullet holes, and they’d all probably be dead with Mark free to break reality to his whim. If Dark wasn’t so tightly wound, everything would come undone.

So you enjoy - scratch that. You let him be how he is, in each moment, without comparison. Sure, it’s nice to talk to Dark when he isn’t grinding out words from between his teeth, and seeing him undone has removed whatever distance might have remained between you, but to say you enjoy him…

Christ. Who are you kidding - you really enjoy him.

It really happens without you noticing, and it almost drives you nuts with how cliche it all is. Things just build up - he has a pillow placed in your chair just so for your lower back, you pull the smallest of smiles of him with a well-put observation (and find that his eyes crinkle the same way the other egos’ do) - until one night he asks you to dance.

He’s not quite so blunt as that about it, but it’s essentially what happens. You’re sitting together, having fallen into one of those comfortably quiet moments when a song comes on that you recognize. Not from your time lingering around Dark’s door, but from before you came to the Manor, vague memories welling up of a ballroom dancing class in undergrad you’d taken for fun full of sore toes and sweaty hands. You laugh, suddenly, startled at just how far away that moment feels. You try to cover it with your hand, but you continue to chuckle as something about the ridiculousness of it gets to you, and Dark watches you with some mix of amusement and concern. There’s a little of that predator’s intentionality there - searching for answers. You shake your head as you calm, dropping your hand but still smiling.

“Just… I know this song.”

“Oh?” Read: Continue.

“Well, I… Back in my first year at university, I... well, I signed up for this ballroom dancing unit. This was one of the songs we used, I think.” Dark inclines his head as something changes in his gaze. Your last little aftershock of laughter passes and you settle back into watching the fire lick at its grate, content to let it lie. But Dark continues to watch you. Feeling him still staring, you look back - very little of that soft turn to his eyes remains. He is a man focused. “What?” you eventually ask, shifting under his stare.

“I did not know you danced.”

You fluster, then, scoffing at the idea, eyes falling to the carpet between you. “I… don’t. Unless you count slow dancing, I guess. It was just the one class. Forever ago.”

He’s not content, fixated. But quiet. Considering. Weighing. Then…

“Would you like to?”

You look back quickly enough that you wonder if his aura pulled at you in tandem with your surprise. “Wh. I… Now?”

He nods, slowly. You just stare, trying to process the idea and coming up with no clear thoughts. Then he does something funny - he actually shifts under your scrutiny, gaze flickering away for the briefest of moments before returning to you. That alone is enough to stun you further, Dark looking practically shy, but he explains. “In my day, I was an avid dancer. I enjoyed little else outside of… work. I can show you how.”

You momentarily wonder which of his past lives he means before you find yourself nodding in agreement. Even if you hadn’t wanted to, this is… new. Dark offering so much at such little gain to himself, unfurling those cards from so close to his chest. Refusing now might mean they would never come away again.

“Can you?” Your voice is surprisingly dry, distant, but Dark doesn’t seem to notice, focused on the task now at hand. On you. He only nods and rises from his chair in a smooth motion before offering you a hand.

From experience, you know he leeches color from whatever he touches, even things in his vicinity if his aura is expansive and active enough. Yet, you’ve never had reason to make direct contact, and so you still watch in minor surprise as your hand loses its luster and gains a black-and-white cast when you take his. “It isn’t permanent,” he explains as you stand to join him. “It’s only… plants, that can’t handle it.” He sounds mildly embarrassed, and it clicks why you’ve never seen him in the Host’s garden. The future-sighted ego had probably barred him from the place years ago.

“Oh,” you reply lamely, and he ducks his head somewhat before leading you to the more open space between your chairs and the outer office door. There, he turns smoothly and you’re in position, having used his hold on your hand to subtly guide you closer. Your other hand lands on his upper arm, almost at his shoulder, and he gently shifts his elbow under yours to guide it to rest on top, near his collar. His own hand comes to rest higher on your back than you remember from class, almost on your shoulder blade.

It feels so proper, how you stand, how he holds you… Against the age-old music set to guide you and the Manor’s unchanged decor, you can almost see who he was before - the swish of a beaded skirt, the creak of a heavy cane - but then he speaks, heavy with shadow, and all you know is the darkness in your arms, here and now.

“Just a simple step. You remember a waltz?” You nod - did we dance this close together back then? “Good. Then you know to follow me. Stay relaxed...”

The idea of relaxing flies out of your mind the minute he guides you backward. All your mental energy is focused on not laughing in pure nervous surprise as he seems to get closer and closer before your muscle memory manages to kick in and you’re stepping back with him. You’re slightly out of sync, and he slows just so to catch up with you before he brings you back up to the pace of the song. “Relax,” he murmurs, dipping his head so much closer to yours than feels decent as he speaks, as if sharing a secret. “I have you.”

You certainly do, you think, immediately glad you’ve been practicing keeping your mind closed more often. With all the time you were spending with Dark in his off-hours, you had felt it was only fair that you didn’t overload him any further. That extra practice is coming in handy now as your thoughts swirl behind the dam you imagine holds them back from the general psychic public - your dance partner in particular.

True to his word, Dark keeps it simple, guiding you slowly around the open space, easily turning you in lazy patterns across the floor. And thank goodness for that - anything more complicated and you wouldn’t be able to balance it with how hyper-aware you are of everywhere the two of you touch, the feeling of his firm shoulder and crisp dress shirt under your hand, the skin of his palm against yours - softer than you’d imagined, with calluses inside his first finger from years of pen-writing.

All the same little anxieties bubble up, long-forgotten but haunting you now with a vengeance. Are you gripping him too tightly? Are you anticipating his movements too much? Is your hand getting sweaty, or is that normal? Can he hear you breathing funny? You’ve thankfully settled into a comfortable angle of faces, yours turned slightly to the left and down, eyes fixed firmly on the curve of his shoulder. You don’t think you could trust yourself to make eye contact just now. You can’t say how exactly Dark’s face is turned, though, so focused on keeping your eyes where they are and your thoughts in check that you haven’t looked - nor do you hear him speaking your name until he squeezes you ever so slightly.

You turn, bidden, and you’re practically nose to nose. His stark eyes are already watching you when you meet them, and it steals whatever shallow breath was in your lungs. Up close, you would think you would be able to discern a hint of color in his irises, find that they were really a dark, dark brown. But they are truly, completely black. And they watch you so carefully, thoughtfully, with barely any room to breathe between you.

Your face must betray how the proximity startles you, because you get treated to another of his small, almost imperceptible smiles. Up close. You can see how it pulls at his eyes, and you’re thankful now that you can’t bring yourself to look away. “I… Yes?”

“You’re quiet,” he explains, after a beat.

“Do you… typically talk, dancing like this?” When did your throat get so dry? Dark chuckles, low and only for a moment.

“You can... But I was referring to your thoughts.” Uh oh.

“Oh…?” You try to sound normal, mildly interested instead of panicked, already floundering for what to say. Dark’s eyes flicker across your face, and you feel horribly exposed. As if, through the underbrush, you’ve just caught the gleam of a predator’s gaze.

“The closer you are, the more clearly I hear them. Yet…” He pauses, turning you past a low table. “I can barely hear you at all.” Then his voice grows softer, somehow, and your throat feels like it’s never known water. “Where did you go?”

“I…” You swallow fruitlessly, dropping your gaze back to his shoulder, to safety. What can you say to explain the sudden, obvious gap without blurting oh, it’s nothing, I only just realized I’ve been falling in love with you for the past couple of months when you asked me to dance and now I’m trying not to lose it while you hold me. “I’ve… been practicing,” you try. It’s the truth, at least. But you still can’t meet his eyes, though you feel them keenly observing you. “Didn’t… Didn’t want to be shouting at you, from, well... this close.”

He’s quiet then, focusing on sweeping you steadily around the room. The song has changed, your pace slowing somewhat to match the new one, and he takes the chance to guide you through a slightly more complicated step, jettisoning words in favor of taking you through a lazy spin before you fall back into the same step as before. You think you might have dodged a bullet as you settle into the movement, your gentle contact not so new and mind-reeling as it was when you started. But then he speaks, and the echo of his voice almost covers his words for how low it is.

“I… enjoy hearing your thoughts. Hearing you.” Dark’s hand holds yours more firmly as the one on your back brings you close to his chest. He’s practically cradling you against him, and you turn your face towards his in the moment to keep from being trapped looking away. You’ve never seen him make the face he’s wearing now - so serious, brow pulled just slightly, intent, yet that searching intensity has faded. Earnest . “I… I enjoy you. Unless you want your privacy, you are free to… be open with me. If you would like,” he's quick to add, his signature phrase that feels so much like as you wish.

You’re grateful he brings you to an easy stop, even as the music continues behind you because dancing has become beyond your grasp. Your eyes flicker across his shadowed face, mind scrambling as the dam you imagine creaks dangerously within. How much is too much? You hunt for clues in his expression, his face betraying so damn little like always, but then - then - his eyes flicker ever so briefly to your lips, and your eyes perceive a slightly darker shade of gray unfurling across his cheeks.

So you let go.

You don’t drown him in it, of course, but you allow your mind to open slowly once more. He inhales a forcibly steady breath, eyes searching yours once more as he processes, weighs, and finally draws you completely into him, head turning just so to finally fit your lips together in a kiss that feels like crisp, refreshing relief and wood smoke under a winter moon. You breathe in, feeling how cool he is to the touch, how steady he is under your hands, your kiss, even as his aura constantly roils.

Dark drops your hand to cradle your head and draw you further in, your arm finds its way around his broad back. His lips leave yours and you’re already starting to imagine your next kiss before he interrupts and gives it to you, a low sound in his throat and his hand bringing a tilt to your head that makes you incredibly thankful for how he’s holding you up. You kiss, and kiss, parting and rejoining in soft pecks and long presses that make the old standards you’ve bonded over sound like both the truest truths and palest lies.

Eventually, though, he withdraws, letting you catch your breath, soothing you with small kisses trailing from your lips to your jaw and back toward the joint of it and your neck. He’s adoring and unhurried - though the farther down his lips descend, the less air you can properly draw in. He slows on the softer skin there, hand still supporting your head where you tipped it back for him, and inhales gently as if he, too, needs to be steadied. His voice is a distant rumble, as much in your head as it is spoken. “Is my music really so moony...?”

It’s so sudden, your thoughts laid bare against the hint of his insecurity. A laugh bubbles up and out of you, breathless waves shaking your body. You only hold onto him tighter, and he squeezes you back in turn. You can feel him really smiling down against your neck, the pull of his lips and rounding of his cheeks evident against your sensitive skin. Why had you even tried to hide?

“The fact that you could sing any of them while gazing longingly at the stars should answer your question,” you tease, and he’s laughing with you, settling into just holding you close. “...but I like it. It’s romantic.”

“It was not my original intent, but...what wonderful results,” he murmurs, kissing your throat once more before coming back up, letting you catch your breath properly. How does he make the cheesiest things sound good?

“Mine either,” you admit. His brow quirks above warm eyes.

“No? What, then, was your intent in imagining how I chose to relax?” he asks, a wicked tease coloring his tone. You blink, and then heat rises up the back of your neck, your ears burn. He knew?? The whole time?????

“You could…” Your voice is distant as Dark draws the back of his hand softly across your cheek, fingers trailing the blush rising there. His eyes dip to follow it, watching it unfurl under your skin with the most damnably amused smile you’ve ever seen him wear. Damn him. Damn him, of course he knew!

“You should know doors can do very little to stop me…” You groan miserably. “But I liked it. It was romantic,” he continues, echoing you. It has such buried mirth that it only serves to embarrass you further, so you worm your arms against his chest, trying to push him off. He only chuckles that deep chuckle and holds you closer, lips pressing to your temple. “And so kind of you to want to protect me and my little moment… Did I really look so deliciously undressed...”

“Oh my god. Oh my god!” And here he had been playing coy this whole time! Letting you just dangle all your most embarrassing thoughts for anyone to see! You continue to struggle against him, if only to register your complaint. “You’ve completely ruined this, I hope you’re happy, you insufferable--” He dips and catches your lips again, humming and silencing your insults with his kiss. For all your indignant protesting, it’s impossible not to melt against him, your hands that tried to push him away stilling against his chest before sliding up to meet behind his neck. When he finally breaks your embrace, you huff softly. “I can’t believe you.”

He’s smiling, but sobers slightly as you hold each other, his eyes just taking you in. “...it was a comfort to me, to know I was not alone in my affection… despite all my hesitation in admitting it. I did say I enjoy hearing you for a reason, lamb.”

You’re melting, but then your nose wrinkles. “Lamb?” Dark tilts his head.

“Pet?”

“Why all the animal names?”

It’s his turn to huff, then. “It seems I am not as skilled as Wilford when it comes to terms of endearment.” Your nose wrinkles further, the rotating cast of gushy names the mustachioed man throws around only making you wince with laughter.

“Please, no, I know you can do better than those.”

Dark puffs up a little at that, somehow pleased by the implication. “I’ll have to put my mind to it when I’m fresh, then. But for now…” He draws back, taking your hand into his, the other sliding up your back and into position. “Shall we?”

“Gladly,” you murmur, and he leads you in an altogether different dance.

#markiplier fanfiction #markiplier egos #ego fanfiction #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier #mad market pliers ramblings

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the-princess-of-loki · 2 years ago

Text

You looked across the bed to take a look at the spectacular view displayed just for you. It has been months since you started sleeping with Loki and you still wondered why someone would want to erase such beauty from the universe. However, you didn’t have the authority to question anything. You were there on a mission, even when that mission conflicted directly with your personal interests. You reached out behind your pillow where you had hidden your dagger the first night the God of Mischief brought you here. You turned it around your hand without paying real attention to it, appreciating the beauty of Loki while he slept. His dark curly hair was a mess from the night, and the satin red sheet did little to nothing to hide his wonderful, slender, pale and bright body. You saw your nail marks on his chest as you scratched him at the peak of your passion.

You shook your head. If you were to think about every night this wonderful god has pleasured you beyond your limits, then you wouldn’t be able to carry on with the deed. And you didn’t have that option. You grabbed your dagger firmer as you analyze quickly how to proceed. You needed to be quick or else Loki would easily overpower you. After pondering for a minute, you sighed and put yourself into motion. There was no point in delaying it any longer. You straddled him and with a trembling hand, you raised your dagger to his neck. Again, the thought of why someone would want such a wonderful soul to leave this universe clouded your mind. Besides, you felt sick with yourself as you had gained his trust just to betray him in the end just like everybody else in his life.

“Do it,” You heard his voice clearly but he didn’t move an inch. His face remained the same, his beautiful green orbs still closed and his expression completely serene. You thought that you imagined it but then his hand grabbed your arm firmly making your dagger dig a little deeper into his skin. He opened his eyes and you couldn’t erase the shock from your face. “Do it,” Loki repeated, louder and with more conviction this time.

“L-Loki, I-”

“Yes, darling. I knew from the very beginning what your intentions were as I can read your mind, even more so when we touch. Tell me, why aren’t you doing what you must?” A smirk appeared on his lips while you tried to regain your ability to speak. Suddenly, he turned you around on the bed but he didn’t attempt to take the dagger out of his neck. He rested his weight on his hands placed next to your head on the bed. “You must hurry, dear. You won’t have another chance like this one,” Loki whispered as he got his face closer to yours, your lips almost touching and your dagger the only thing keeping you both apart.

“I don’t want to do this, Loki…” You sighed, closing your eyes and letting your dagger go. Loki grabbed it before it hit your skin and started to play with it throwing it up in the air and grabbing it again before it could reach you.

“Then, don’t.”

“I don’t have a choice!” You felt tears clouding your eyes. Being a professional assassin, you couldn’t allow yourself to have feelings or show them. However, the God of Mischief has made his way through the thick walls and has conquered your heart as nobody else before. “Someone wants you gone and even if it breaks me in a thousand pieces, I cannot say no,” You caressed his cheeks with desperation. Loki threw the dagger away to be able to hold you in his arms.

“My sweet girl, I have been dead many times and I have always come back. I do not know who torments you, but I assure you, I will not let anybody hurt you. We are one and the same, dear, and I will protect you. Do you trust me?”

You didn’t know what to say. You did trust him but you were also afraid. The being who had contacted you, even when you didn’t meet him, was too powerful. However, throwing caution away, you kiss him in response to his question. His embrace became tighter around you as Loki returned your kiss with his skilful thin lips. You dug your nails into his back, scratching him as your tears continued to roll down your cheeks. How could you damage this beautiful being? How, when you knew exactly how much his soul ached for every treason he had suffered? You couldn’t. It didn’t matter anymore what would happen to you because you decided to rebel. You would die happily if that meant that Loki would be able to live it out and find his happiness.

“Stop crying, my beautiful girl. Even when I knew from the beginning that you were meant to kill me, I would have died happily in your arms,” Loki kissed away your tears while speaking.

“Do not say that not ever again. I don’t know what will be of me, I will probably be hunted down and killed, but I want you to be happy, understand? Let go of your pain and hatred and find true happiness, alright?” You begged him while caressing his black curly hair. Loki shook his head.

“No, my sweet girl. I will not do such a thing since I have found my happiness with you. In these past months we have been together, my soul has recovered from its injuries. Is it possible that you do not realize it yet, darling? I love you,” You gasped as you look into those beautiful green eyes that drive you insane. You knew that Loki didn’t take those words lightly. “As long as you are mine, my dear, I will not let another soul touch you or harm you.”

“I am yours from the moment I saw you, Loki,” You took a deep breath before continuing. “I love you more than anything,” You admitted in a whisper. “Can I ask something of you?” Loki nodded, smiling. “Make me yours for all eternity.”

“With pleasure, my love.”

Loki kissed you slowly and intimately, caressing your naked body with his expert hands, reviving every cell of your body. His skin was cold, as expected from a Jotun, but it turned yours on fire with every simple touch. He bit down your lower lip softly as if it were a piece of fruit he wanted to savour. He then joined your tongue with his in a sensual dance while his hands touched you in every spot you needed. He cupped one of your breasts and started to pinch your nipple sending waves of pleasure through your body until they pulsated in your core between your legs. You moaned in his mouth and he hummed in appreciation. Loki then kissed your jaw, bit down your neck, going down your collarbone until he reached your other nipple. He blew some cold air on it, causing the pink bud to harden instantly and then he licked it. He continued his ministrations to your skin, kissing down your body through your stomach, then your thigh.

“Loki, please, I need you,” You begged him grabbing a bunch of his black hair.

He smiled at you going all the way up until his forehead was touching yours. Looking into your eyes the whole time, he slid his hard member inside you with one swift motion. You were wet enough for him due to his previous exploration of your body. He stayed still inside you even when you both knew that you didn’t need time to adjust to his length. You both look into each other’s eyes while deliciously enjoying the sensation of being united.

“You are so wet for me, my love. Always ready to please me,” Loki admired with a beautiful smile on his now red lips because of the kiss.

He then started a torturously slow pace, moving out of you, leaving just the tip inside and then thrusting back inside you again. Loki hit your sweet spot with every thrust and you no longer were able to keep his gaze as the pleasure was too much to bear. Your moans and the lewd sound of skin meeting skin quickly filled the bedroom as your lovemaking increased in pace and passion. You moaned his name and that made him go insane. He groaned against your neck while he kept thrusting inside you time and time again. He rolled his hips before thrusting and that added more pleasure. Somehow you needed even more from him and somehow Loki knew it. He reached between your bodies until he found your clit and started to circle it. You felt your orgasm building inside you.

“Cum for me, my sweet girl. Give me what I want,” Loki commanded in your ear.

As if you were waiting for his permission, your orgasm hit you hard, making you see stars as Loki’s name dropped out of your mouth like a prayer. When you came back from your orgasm-induced paradise, you noticed that Loki has stopped his movements but he didn’t reach his climax.

“Do you want me to fill you with my seed, darling?” Loki asked while rolling his hips. “Do you want everybody to know you belong to me, love?”

“Yes, yes, please, love,” You pleaded to him moving your hips trying to get some more movement between you.

“Then you shall please me as well, darling. Give me another one. I know you can do it.”

You were about to deny it when he thrust with full force again while still rubbing your clit. You felt another orgasm building inside you and you knew that Loki could ask anything from you and you would give him anything he desired. You came again, shouting his name and you felt him stiffen above you before moaning out his bliss.

You both laid on the bed, hugging each other with all your tired limbs. You didn’t know what would happen now that you purposefully failed your mission, but you didn’t care as long as you were next to Loki.

#Loki #Loki's Day #Loki Odinson #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Imagine #Loki Smut #Loki Sweet #Loki x reader #Loki x you

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wondersofdreaming · 4 years ago

Text

Sex on Fire

Co-written with @radaofrivia

Characters: AU Captain Syverson - Gynaecologist, dr. Syverson x female reader

Word count: 4.522

Warnings: NSFW! Smut, so smutty. Gamahuche. Licking. Bodily liquids. Fingering. Sucking. Hair pulling. Begging. And I’m out of whatever else there is, but I’m sure there’s more - let me know and I’ll add them XD

Author’s note: This story was co-written with the always gorgeous and incredible @radaofrivia! She is the Brain to my Pinky! The Barney Rubble to my Fred Flinstone! My goddess Saga and my muse Erato! My drinking buddy and who will stay up till 4am with me to finish this story.

Please go enjoy her stories here:

Rada’s Masterlist

I do not own any characters in this short story, except the reader who is a figment of my imagination.

*Edit: The title was decided before I realised that it is a song by Kings of Leon. These two have nothing in common except for the title.

MY MASTERLIST

Sex on Fire Masterlist

Feedback is appreciated.

(Credit to original gif owner - if this is yours please contact me so I can give you proper credit)

The grey concrete building stood tall in front of you. You leaned your head back to see the top, but it was nearly impossible. All you could see were windows leading into the sky. A doorman in a black uniform stood by the entrance, watching whoever went in and out. He nodded his head with a stoic look in a greeting.

The lobby looked more welcoming than the outside building. There was a fireplace with three sofas surrounding it and a coffee table stacked with magazines. A few women were already sitting there, gossiping about the new dapper doctor that had rented the entire top floor.

You rolled your eyes and went over to the reception. A man stood to greet you with a smile, but he was talking to someone in his headset, which only took a few seconds before he hung up.

“I am sorry about that, how may I help you, miss?” he asked.

“I’m here for an appointment with dr. Syverson,” you said a little nervously.

“Ah, yes. I have a form you need to fill out,” he handed you a piece of paper and a pen, “The elevators are just right over there. Take it all the way to the 52nd floor. Another receptionist will be there to guide you further.”

You accepted the paper and went for the elevators. A chill went down your spine as the cold air from the air condition hit you. You pressed the button for dr. Syverson’s floor. An orchestral song started playing over the speakers. It wasn’t until you listened closely to the lyrics that you noticed it was ‘Nothing Else Matters’ by Metallica.

You closed your eyes, swaying to the beat of the soft drums. Lars Ulrich had been your celebrity crush as a teen, and you still listened to their older songs when you had a bad day.

The elevator doors opened with a loud ‘ding!’, pulling you out of your trance. Another receptionist stood at the opposite side. She looked up from the computer and smiled.

“Welcome to dr. Syverson’s clinic. Do you need help filling out the paper?” she asked nicely. You quickly scanned what you needed to scribble down. It was mostly your personal information and history of health.

“No, I think I can manage, thank you,” you smiled back.

“You can take a seat in the sofas, and when you’re done just fold it and put it in the mailbox, dr. Syverson will call you in, shortly,” she motioned to a black mailbox by the elevators that you had missed when walking past it.

You nodded and went for the sofas. The room was warm and comfortable with green plants everywhere. The sand-coloured leather sofas were softer than you expected as you sank down. You filled out the form and put it in the box.

Instead of sitting back down, you decided to walk over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and take a look at the impressive view of the city. Your eyes widened at how far you could see, all the way to the ocean, and if you squinted your eyes, you might have been able to see your apartment building, even the bar you had often been frequenting lately.

Dr. Syverson walked out of his office. He stretched his arms above his head, feeling a bit sore from having sat down reading his patients’ charts all afternoon. Now he just needed to check on his last appointment, before he could go home and enjoy an ice-cold beer.

His receptionist was packing her stuff, sending him a kind smile. The perks of working with his sister were that she didn’t try to seduce him, or leave her underwear in his white coat pocket like some of his patients tended to do.

He smiled back and looked around the room. His gaze landing on you. His first thoughts were not ‘oh there’s my patient’, no, his mind went straight to ‘YOWZA!’.

“Last patient for today, Luc. I’ll be leaving now, see you tomorrow,” he heard his sister say to him. She smacked his arm to get his attention. He was pulled back to reality, saying goodbye to her before walking towards you, changing his mindset from dirty to professional.

You gasped when a flock of seagulls flew by, making you take a step back and hit a wall. Except the wall had arms that grabbed your shoulders before you hit the floor.

“Whoah, careful there, miss,” a deep rough voice said. You looked up and saw a man with a trimmed beard, a soft smile on his lips, and a mischievous look in his cerulean eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out. You quickly remove yourself from his arms, first now noticing that he was wearing the white coat signalling he was dr. Syverson. And if that didn’t kick your brain in gear, then the name tag on his chest should do it. Dr. Lucas P. Syverson.

“It’s all good. This way, please,” he made sure you followed him to his office. The wall colour changed to a more soothing beige colour and was adorned with colourful paintings. You didn’t notice what they depicted before you stepped closer to one. It was of naked human bodies in various forms and shapes, very fitting for a gynaecologist’s office.

He had various books about his profession, but a few stood out to you. One had a peach on the cover and was written by dr. Syverson himself. You were impressed but wondered about the peach until you saw the title that made you blush deeply.

“How to eat a peach for dummies.”

He motioned for you to sit in the armchair, while he plopped down on the opposite one. He grabbed a chart from his desk and a pen.

“I’ve had a look at your medical history, and the…” Dr. Syverson looked down on the chart, “three gynaecologists that you have been referred to have written that you are in a state of good health. Well, we’ll see about that, I’m not too keen on some of these doctors you’ve had appointments with. They’re as old as Methuselah.”

You let out a peal of laughter. The joke having put you at ease with the doctor, who was smiling as you calmed down from your fit of giggles.

You were a little bit shocked by this doctor. Dr. Syverson was nothing like how you had imagined him. He couldn’t be over 40, with the extended educational schooling he would have had to go through. You remembered having read somewhere that it took at least 12 years to become a gynaecologist.

“Oh my gosh, they were. Another thing they had in common was that they would take a “quick” peek, not caring that I was screaming in pain, and then tell me that I’m healthy as a horse.”

Dr. Syverson sat back; his brow pushed together. You could practically hear the gears turning behind his forehead. He ran a hand through his beard, which made you notice that he wasn’t wearing a ring. If he wasn’t your doctor, you might have asked him on a date. Had you only met him at a bar instead of his office, and not being his patient. Damn it.

“There is definitely an issue we need to figure out here. I want you to know, miss that I plan on solving this mystery. Please, tell me in your own words what you think is wrong?”

You opened your mouth to explain, but all the sentences you thought of were too embarrassing to say out loud.

“Miss, you can say anything here. Nothing leaves these four walls, I promise you,” dr. Syverson tried to make you feel more comfortable with him with his gorgeous smile. His presence alone was putting you at ease. How did he do it?

“It burns when I’m penetrated,” you confessed.

“Penetrated how? During intercourse or masturbation?”

“I haven’t had sex since this happened. I can barely stuff two fingers in there,” you blurted, turning tomato red, confessing something so private to a total stranger, but it felt great to finally say it out loud, like a heavy stone being lifted from your shoulders.

“How about I take a look? Let me see with my own eyes that you’re ‘healthy as a horse’,” he quoted the old men, making you giggle. “You can leave your trousers and underwear on the bench, and have a seat on the table. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

The dashing doctor left the room while you removed your clothing. Feeling a little self-conscious, as you walked over to the gynaecologist table with the stirrups and sat between them, trying to cover your private parts with your shirt.

Dr. Syverson came back soon with a variety of scented candles in his arms.

“The smell of something nice usually helps my patients to relax a little,” he explained. He held them up for you to choose.

“This one,” you smiled and handed him the one called Ocean Mist.

“Nice choice, that one is my favourite,” the doctor grinned. He set the lit candle on his desk. The scent of a sandy beach and salty ocean soon filled the room. The doctor pulled the ultrasound machine towards you. You leaned back on the table inhaling deeply, willing your abdominal muscles to relax. The sounds of a guitar reached your ears. You watched as he set a portable speaker on the small table next to you.

“I hope you don’t mind a little music,” he said, smiling, while he put on a pair of bright orange gloves.

“I love Metallica, so please keep it flowing.”

“Can you guess the song I’m playing? Put your legs up here for me,” he patted the stirrups.

You lifted your legs, intensely listening to the instrumental version of the song.

“Is it ‘The Unforgiven’?” you asked.

“Correct, you’re good. This is going to be a little bit cold,” he squirted a large amount of gel on the ultrasound wand. He slowly inserted the rod inside you, pushing ever so gently. “How long have you listened to Metallica?”

You winced at the invasion but tried to keep your muscles from tightening around the smooth object. You didn’t see the set jaw on the gorgeous looking doctor. Your sweet scent was tickling his nose and making his mouth salivate by the thought of tasting you.

“Since I was a teenager. I’ve been to at least one concert per tour they’ve done,” you groaned in pain.

“I’m sorry, your right ovary is a little difficult to find. You’re doing great. Your left ovary is the epitome of health. Are you on any kind of birth control?” he asked casually, trying his best to make you feel safe around him.

“N… no… I…” your voice broke, and tears started streaming down your cheeks. Doctor Lucas quickly removed the wand, cleaned it and sat down next to you.

“It’s okay. Let it all out,” he told you softly. Concern for your well being was painted on his chiselled face.

“It’s just that… I haven’t had sex for years, YEARS doc. No man wants a broken woman, especially not a woman that cannot be penetrated without her screaming in pain.”

You babbled so much you forgot that you were in a gynaecologist’s office and not at a psychologist.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to blurt all that out,” you started to blush a crimson red.

Lucas fought hard not to pull you into his arms. His protective instincts were on high alert; he wanted to make you feel safe, make you feel loved. He was cursing the bastards who had hurt you. To him, women were the stronger sex, had to endure more pain than men. Women are precious, made to birth life, made to give love and be loved.

“It’s quite alright. You’ve had a rough time,” he patted your arm, the safest place to touch you and went to get up. “I’m going to feel around to see if there’s something I’ve missed with the ultrasound. What other bands do you listen to?”

You watched as doctor Syverson slapped on another pair of gloves and squirted a smaller amount of gel on his finger, on his long thick finger. You were practically drooling by watching him prepare to examine you.

“Eh… I listen to a little bit of everything,” you said. You laid back down and draped an arm over your eyes. Watching the handsome doctor working was becoming too much for you. He was stirring feelings inside you that you hadn’t felt in a long time, and not in this form or quantity. You had taken a look at his well-proportioned ass when he walked out earlier, and his black trousers did very little to hide his hefty package.

“I’m sorry, but, again, this is going to be a little cold. What was the last song you listened to?” he warned.

It was an erotic scene, watching him standing between your legs, one hand on your belly, while the other was about to enter your most sacred place. You felt him enter. A soft moan escaped your lips.

Lucas’ ears perked. He hadn’t expected to hear that sound coming from your full lips. Had he heard correctly? The little vibration from you sent a jolt straight to the beast he was trying to keep dormant. This wasn’t the first time a woman had moaned while he examined them, but you were different. Another sweet sound reached his ears. You were so responsive to his touch, so open, so reactive. His mind was racing, but one word kept popping up, more.

You had forgotten how to speak, how to form sentences, how to communicate. You could only feel.

“Miss?”

“Hmm?”

“The last song? You listened to,” he didn’t mean to sound so tense, but he had to distract himself, his treacherous mind, he needed to keep the small-talk going, to break the silence. He wanted to kick himself in the balls for thinking about you, while he was fingers deep inside you. His compassionate instinct was winning over his lust.

Stop it, Lucas! You’re a professional. You cannot mess up! You CAN NOT fuck this up! She needs your help. Lord, give me strength.

“Oh...” you murmured, coming back from whatever universe he had sent you to with his finger technique, “Ehm, before the Metallica song in the elevator, I listened to ‘What’s Your Country Song’ by Thomas Rhett.”

“That’s a great song. I like country music.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed you as a country kinda g… GOD!!!” you gasped as he curled his finger, touching the spot.

You released a louder sinful sound, a sound that hadn’t left your lips in a very long time. Lucas watched as your chest was heaving, gasping for air. The room was suddenly suffocating him. He felt like he was burning up from the inside. His breath was hitched, and he couldn’t form a coherent sentence. Why did you have to sound like desire itself?

“Does it hurt when I do this?” he asked, his voice lowering an octave and reduced to a velvety whisper. He hooked his finger once more, listening intensely to the sounds escaping you.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your eyes rolled back in your head. You lifted your hips, moving your pelvis closer, needing more friction, needing to feel him deeper inside you.

Fuck!

He was watching you, vehemently. A fire was burning deep in his groin, heck even his eyes were flaming. His shoulders moved fastly up and down as he was heaving in the air through his parted lips, he needed oxygen, he needed to control himself. He was scolding himself for feeling like a horny teenager.

“This is… wrong,” he said in a panic. He moved his hand away from you. You wrapped your fingers around his wrist in a fierce grip.

“Please…” you begged, “please don’t stop. I… I haven’t felt like this in a long time. Please, Lucas… I need you… I need you to finish this.”

He could hear the need in your voice. He could smell your arousal. You were clawing your nails into his skin. The look in your eyes was clear that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. The same eyes were shining with unshed tears, begging him for release, and the sound of his name from your lips was making him so close to breaking his resolve.

“I… can’t… you’re my patient,” he groaned, his forehead showing the concerned lines of wrinkles, which made him look even more desirable.

“Can’t you make an exception? Just this once? Please...”

Lucas ran a gloved hand through his short-cropped hair. He turned away from you, needing support for his shaky legs he leaned against the back of his office chair. He was thinking about it, really thinking about it.

“Please, doll. Don’t test me. I’m standing on the edge, and I’m this close to jumping in with both feet. I can lose my career, and I don’t want you to regret this tomorrow.”

You watched as his shoulders sank. You moved off the examination table, pulling the hem of your shirt down to try to cover your nakedness.

“I’m sorry, dr. Syverson. I… I didn’t mean to put you in such a precarious situation,” your voice was small. Your gaze firmly on the wooden floor beneath your feet, you felt so ashamed to have tried to seduce your gynaecologist, who was only trying to help you. Lucas turned around to the sound of your voice breaking, and a little saddened that you started calling him his title again. Your cheeks flushed, your arms wrapped around yourself. You gathered the courage to move towards your clothes.

“Damn it!” he cursed. He moved towards you with the speed of lightning before you could take a single step. His large muscular frame wrapped around you, your head was laying on his chest, listening to the racing of his heartbeat.

“Say ‘you’re fired’,” he ordered, his voice husky and commanding like some kind of army captain, but it was also desperate. Desperate for you not to leave him. Craving your touch. Desiring, longing, yearning, lusting for you.

Your eyes widened in shock as you processed his words. He heard you gasp as you realised what he was saying.

“Dr. Syverson… you’re fired,” you whispered seductively, although a little shaky too. You watched as the sweet and calm doctor changed before your very eyes.

He clashed his lips with yours in a hungry kiss. He was starving; his only thought was to taste you that was his only goal. Your scent had been making him insane; famished was more correctly described.

While holding you in his arms, he made you move backwards until your bum found the end of the exam table.

His kisses were desperate, and so were you. Your heart felt as if it was about to beat out of your chest. Your breathing was shallow. It was going to happen; it was really going to happen.

He lifted you up and made you sit on the exam table. He parted your legs and went to stand between them. He cupped your face between his warm palms, leaning down to kiss you again. He kissed your jaw and all the way to the shell of your ear.

“Please, don’t regret this,” he whispered and went to touch his forehead against yours.

“I want it, even more than you do,” you answered breathlessly.

With your consent, there was no turning back now.

He devoured your mouth while his hands roamed all over your body. He unbuttoned your blouse while you shoved his white coat to the floor. You pulled at his button-up, buttons were flying everywhere. He shoved your shirt down your shoulders and off your arms before he threw it somewhere behind him. You ran your hands up and down his hairy chest, wanting to feel all of him, not the doctor, but the fine specimen of a man that he was.

He removed your bra with a flick of his fingers. Slowly revealing your breast to him. Your nipples two hard buds, waiting for his mouth to suck, lick, bite, whatever he wanted to do.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered. His voice was desperate, so filled with lust, but also something oh so sweet.

Lucas moved his lips down your collar bone. Feasting on your breast, nibbling at your skin, before he finally went to town with your nipples. With the first touch of his tongue on your left breast, while he pinched the right, you let out a loud guttural sound. Just him playing with your bosom was about to send you over the edge. The coil in your belly was so close to snapping.

“More… Please, Lucas, more,” you whimpered, pushing his head to the place where you needed his mouth the most, right between your thighs.

You heard him chuckle. He gently pushed you down, making sure you were comfortable before he hooked your legs over his shoulders for better access to your glistening desire.

“Fuck…” you mewled. The sight of the mountain man between your legs, the growing bulge in his dark trousers was so erotic you were about to combust. Your sex was on fire.

“Your body is divine, bug. It was made to be worshipped. I want to make the pain go away,” he said softly.

You didn’t get to say a word as his tongue ran along the seam of your wetness, making you shutter from the first contact. His tongue was wide and long, his mouth blowing hot air as he sucked your lower lips gently.

That tongue of his was everywhere, inside you, lavishing you, adoring every centimetre of your flushed skin. You lifted your head to watch him working you into a frenzy, right as he sucked his index finger into his mouth, coating the digit with his saliva.

The pleasure that he was giving you was overwhelming. The moment he pushed his finger inside your womanhood, was like nothing you had felt before. His finger was warm, and it was a whole different feeling than when he was gloved. His tongue darted out to play with the glistening pearl hiding between your lips, sucking in his finger. Your wetness allowed his movements to be smooth and easy, in and out, and he found that spot that made you howl in ecstasy.

“Luc… I’m… I’m so close… FUCK!”

The coil broke, snatched, ripped apart. You weren’t pushed over the edge, you were shoved, hard, and the pleasuring waves kept coming and coming. It felt as if your orgasm was never-ending. You never wanted to come down from that high. It was addictive.

You released your hold of Sy’s head from your thighs, not having noticed you had trapped him. You were panting hard, trying to catch your breath after the tsunami of an orgasm the doctor had given you.

Lucas’ palm covered your cheek, wiping the tears that had fallen from your eyes.

“Did I hurt you, doll?” his face scrunched in concern.

You shook your head, no.

“No… that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced.”

The smile on Lucas’ face was breathtaking. He was beaming with pride. You watched as he leaned back, noticing he was still wearing his trousers. The apparent bulge in his abdominal area looked painful.

You moved to sit up, motioning for him to stand.

“I want to return the favour,” you told him, unzipping his trousers. You were gentle, as the tent grew more extensive, the more you released his manhood from its confinement. You helped him out of his black boxer briefs and came face to face with the finest cock you had ever laid eyes on. You were drooling, licking your lips, dying to taste him.

“You don’t have to, angel,” he groaned as your tongue darted out to taste the precum leaking from the tip, hearing him growl, a sound coming from deep inside him.

“Please let me, Sy,” you pleaded, taking his length in your hand. You looked up to see Lucas nodding slowly. He groaned in acceptance.

You ran your tongue over your palm to lubricate it. Lucas’ eyes widened to the size of teacups. His cock jolting in excitement, his heart skipping a beat at the erotic scene happening right before him.

One hand touched his hips, moving to the small of his back, to have a grip on his ass, pushing him closer to your face. He filled your hand beautifully with his hardness, yet he was still soft to the touch of your palm. You started moving your hand up, slowly, hearing his gasp was turning you on even more than you already were. You smeared the clear precum around the glans with your thumb. Delicately wrapping your mouth around him. Your lips were stretched to max capacity, a voice in the back of your mind was telling you that you had to be careful not to lock your jaws, but then again you had a doctor right in front of you if the situation should happen.

You languidly moved his member further into your warm mouth, coating him with your saliva. Your tongue gliding over the tip. Lucas released a low moan that sent vibrations through his body. He lifted his face towards the ceiling. Your hand left his ass, moving down his thighs, tickling the backside of his knee, before travelling up the inside of his thigh and gently cupping his balls.

“Fuuuuuuck…” he guttered. You sucked the part that could fit in your mouth in synchronicity with your hand’s movement. He felt the tightening deep within his testicles. The hitching in his breath notified you of his coming release. You led his hands to your scalp, letting his fingers fisting your hair, before giving him a sultry look with his cock in your mouth.

He was grunting hard as he set the pace, while you did your best to keep up with him. Moving his hips, chasing his release inside your mouth. You relaxed your throat, letting him take over. You wanted so much to please him.

“Fuck, sunshine… I’m so close,” he growled.

“Come in my mouth,” you uttered. It was like something within him snapped the minute you voiced the words. He moved faster, harder, rougher. Until you felt the first spurts of his seed hitting your palate. You swallowed everything he spilt and then licked him clean.

Sy fumbled with his office chair as he sat down with a satisfied hum and pulled you to sit on his lap.

“That was amazing,” he smiled at you, kissing the tip of your nose, your cheek, the corner of your mouth and lastly a lingering kiss on your reddened lips.

“Glad you approve,” you grinned back, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“About those books,” you pointed towards the books you had peeked at earlier.

“Theses I had to write for med school.”

“Tell me about them while you rest for round two.”

#Henry Cavill #This man #I need a drink #Captain Syverson #Fanfiction #My story #Radaofrivia #Co-written #SMUT #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #Henry Cavill x reader #Henry Cavill x female reader #Henry x reader #Henry x female reader #Sex on Fire

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