#if i ever find any more instances of this

[eldest-moonlit]

I've never found that place at all in my life, and I'm no longer looking outside of my already existing circle of close friends and acquaintances. As a neurodivergent woman on the autism spectrum, I've taken so many blows from neurotypical society and neurotypical people that I've lost track. I've been ghosted and blocked by a lot of people, the majority of them men, when they seemed to be the ones interested in me, only to abandon me without warning the moment I started to become myself or if I ever brought up my own needs. One of those instances left me sobbing into my blankets as I was sitting in my bed, trying to be quiet so that my parents wouldn't notice that I was in emotional pain. I've faced a lack of understanding, and/or a lack of effort to understand me, from most neurotypical people in my life, with the only exceptions being my parents and one of my three close friends. I've had far too many neurotypical people accuse me constantly of making excuses for myself when in reality I'm trying to explain my neurodivergence and how it affects the way I perceive the world in the best way that I can. There is a high possibility that I was gaslit for years, by my own peers in middle and high school, into invalidating my concerns and fears over living with epilepsy, when I purposely don't drive because I've missed taking my medication before and had a seizure 24 hours later because of that. If I have a seizure while driving, then I would be at a much higher risk of being either seriously injured or outright killed in a resulting car accident. Unfortunately, the only neurotypical people I've met in life who actually understand that, or at least try to, are one of my closest friends, my parents, my neurologist, and my therapist. Anyone else I've met who understands, or at least tries to, are also on the autism spectrum or neurodivergent in a different way, which includes my other two closest friends.

As a result of all the blows, my trust in neurotypical people is, to an extent, permanently damaged and will remain so. I may be in therapy now, but I feel that even if I go through years of it, I will always be very suspicious and wary of any neurotypical person I come across, of their true intentions and colors. I've learned to avoid hope as well. For me, the pain of crushed hopes is far worse than pain that comes from avoiding hope. I have my request that people not immediately follow me for good reason: in the words of TV Tropes, I'm a Broken Bird who finds stronger bonds and kinships with others on the spectrum, who Does Not Like Men because of just how many times I've been hurt by men in the past, and has the coping mechanisms I do to Never Be Hurt Again. But I'm not getting my hopes up. I already struggle to survive in a neurotypical society that loves to hurt and disadvantage neurodivergent people, so I don't expect it to adjust to my needs while I will have to constantly adjust my needs to fit in. And even if there is someone for me out there, I don't bother to hope. I've been lied to far too many times by men already, and during a time in my life where survival in neurotypical society has only gotten more difficult for me. I have a feeling that for the rest of my life, I will be struggling to survive in society with only my needs, my interests, my methods of survival, and autistic traits keeping my head above water.

[silver--scar]

It's 4 am and my back is hurting and I'm thinking about how Kyle has a trend of spinning his friends around when he's happy

I will make art of this mark my words

[keepthemacramesecret]

absently fantasizing about someone finding some unpublished ewh manuscript for a 4th raffles series. as one does. raffles' sister writes to bunny maybe, she never knew anything ofc and they never met but she was fond of her brother and she understands. so hes compelled to write up another 8 or 9 little adventures. maybe one is the ever hinted but never fully explained school-aged sneaking out. a few more from ham common now that some time has passed and theyre not open cases to be a risk for bunny to write about. it ends with a short structurally last-word-esque epilogue about raffles showing up on bunny's doorstep in 1908 or so because of course he survived and of course he couldnt come back right away but hes here now and wont bunny run away with him one more time?

[alice-in-hotel-land]

Oct. 15th, 2024

I was a little too high when I got to work tonight and my manager (whom I'm pretty sure thinks I'm cute and/or has a crush on me cause she lowkey acts flirty with me) was wearing a hella attractive fit with a new top that I haven't seen her wear yet & tbh she was serving hot eccentric corporate femme realness. I literally was just so focused on how good she looked & practically tuned out the work stuff she was filling me in on. All I could think was "She looks so fucking good I'm such a fucking lesbian oh my god...."

"Ok good to know," As soon as it was my turn to talk I didn't even bother addressing whatever work thing she was conveying to me and gave the blouse a quick look up, saying, "I just want to say I love that shirt btw! You look.....really nice in it." (had to pause for a second because my high ass opened my mouth to say like "you look good as hell/you look hella good" which i knew would be a little too inappropriate to say, especially considering one of the pm desk girls, May, was standing like 4 feet away from us at the other desk, and she hates Alice and is also a gossip so...) After i said that, her face immediately lit up with a beaming smile, she started saying 'thank you' and other stuff while sputtering, then she goes "I could kiss you for that!"

When I tell you it shocked me so hard and was so unexpected that my face instantly turned into the 😳 emoji, I'm not exaggerating in the slightest. I could feel my face getting flush (I turn pink really easily when I'm too warm, doing extraneous physical work, anxious, embarrassed, flustered etc. so its not like i could hide it from her.) Like exCUSE ME??? What was that, ma'am??? What to run that by me again?

I think she noticed my shock and the fact that it got quiet for like .5 seconds and she laughed loudly, backpeddeling, saying like "I'm kidding, I'm kidding!!! I'm so sorry, no seriously, I'm just joking. You're face was so funny though haha 😅" I'm just standing there shocked and trying to recover from that curveball, but in hindsight like.....it's ok girly, if you're gonna say it then say it with your chest. Like I'm sorry, what was that? I don't think I heard you very well. You're gonna have to speak up, don't be shy lmao. When she started apologizing I actually opened my mouth to say "It's ok even if you weren't joking haha," but I clamped my mouth shut because, again, gossipy coworker just feet away from us and I'm not trying to get Alice or myself in trouble. Needless to say that's what it took for me to finally be aware that like, oh shit maybe she actually has been flirting with me for months??

[oatmealaddiction]

Okay but the weirdest thing about the whole "Brotherhood is better you should skip 03" discourse that's become commonplace now, it sort of forgets the world Brotherhood came out in and why you should watch the original Fullmetal Alchemist. When Brotherhood came out, the original Fullmetal Alchemist was one of the most beloved and most watched animes of all time. Brotherhood assumes you the audience have already seen it because of course you have, everyone has seen it, so it skips important information and speeds the story up because it doesn't want to bore you with things you already know. Have you ever wondered "hey why does the first episode of Brotherhood kind of suck, and why am I being introduced to like 50 new characters, and why are they acting like I know what the hell an alchemist is?" It's because Brotherhood thinks you've seen 03.

The first 7 or so episodes of Brotherhood constitute dozens of chapters in the manga, and the first 25 or so episodes of the original Fullmetal Alchemist. The Nina Tucker episode in Brotherhood, in FMA 03 takes up nearly three episodes. Yoki gets a backstory in 03 and it's genuinely one of the best episodes and taken directly from the manga and Brotherhood glosses over it because: duh, you've already seen it. And so if you skip the original you miss out on dozens of really great character building episodes like Ed and Al meeting Hughes for the first time and getting to spend a whole episode helping him free a train from terrorists, or Ed and Roy having a duel that expands on the relationship they have, or episodes where the brothers just help out random people in towns before the major story gets going.

The original also paces itself quite a bit better than Brotherhood and is more in line with the mangas storytelling. In the manga we don't find out about The Gate until nearly two dozen chapters in, and the same goes for the original anime. Like, that's a twist reveal in those stories, and it's weird that the most watched series is the one where they tell you all about The Gate in the first two episodes because they assume you've already seen the original show.

What's more, people don't know that Hiromu Arakawa helped write for the anime while she was still in the middle of writing the manga, and as a result was inspired to write scenes in Brotherhood that the anime did first. That scene of Edward getting impaled by a falling beam? Directly inspired by a similar scene in the original anime. There's a lot of little instances of that and they're great when you can recognize parallels and things in Brotherhood that are direct references to the original anime, but people don't notice any of that anymore. Because the original anime is just an automatic skip these days, and it's a bummer because people don't realize what a giant it was back before Brotherhood was released. They treat it as *bad,* not realizing it was one of the most beloved anime of its time and the problems people take issue with have a lot more to do with personal taste than any kind of actual flaw in the writing. Brotherhood was never meant to dethrone it, and the original anime was always supposed to be part of the viewing experience which is why those first few episodes of Brotherhood are so fast paced. So like, please stop telling people Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 is a skip, or it's bad, or you don't need it because Brotherhood is better. Regardless if you think Brotherhood is better or not, the original wrote Brotherhood's check. It was huge, it was beloved, and Brotherhood is *banking* on the knowledge you've seen all of it and loved it. And trust me when I say there is so much to love about the original series. It's still my favorite branch of the FMA franchise, and it's worth your time, I promise you.

[berryfairyluvr]

hihi I loved the zayne princess treatment post could you do a sylus one as well please 🥹💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝

sylus and his princess (queen) treatment

pairings: bf!sylus x fem!reader

warnings: none really, maybe minor mentions of some memories

a/n: thank you for the love and the request xx hope you enjoy <3

With a high bounty on his head Sylus has many enemies. Now having you as his beloved partner in this dangerous life (and all the ones before and after) your life has taken priority over his own. Despite your stubborn tendencies, he always has eyes on you ensuring your safety.

He not so slyly suggests you stay at his place 99% of the time as an answer to any of your complaints claiming he has 'this and that' but really it’s to keep you close by.

You insist on waiting up for him after his many late night outings much to his opposition. The lamps dim lighting catching his eye through the window each time he returns to find you cutely tucked into yourself sound asleep on the plush couch. He’d chuckle quietly and scoop you into his arms carrying you bridal style down the dark hallways to the bedroom.

You often complained about the coldness of his marble flooring even in socks. He’s made sure to have his staff keep you slippers in your most visited rooms ever since.

You thought his shower was huge before? He had it expanded and added multiple shower heads. When you asked why, he responded with “Time is of the essence, now we can save it by showering together sweetie.”

He loves to accommodate you, adding a vanity to his bedroom, his and hers closet, shared armory access personalized just to your liking… The list goes on.

He’s discreetly possessive with his touches but it’s usually masked by his powerful demeanor. For instance, when the two of you are out he’s often guiding you on his arm or with his large hand splayed on the small of your back. At meals and meetings his hand finds its way to rest on your thigh.

He will not stand for any sign of disrespect towards you, those who haven’t learned that are met with something violently unpleasant. (Most times completely unbeknownst to you— Sylus makes sure you’re occupied)

You yap and he listens. Earnestly. And I mean undivided and devoted attention. He is so very fond of the way you light up like a child when speaking about your life.

His attention to detail is remarkable and he shows that in your everyday life. Whether it’s picking up on your favorite scent or noting what things make you relax more than others, he provides you with them as much as possible.

That travel magazine you’d been reading hadn’t gone unnoticed and to your surprise, he’d arranged for the two of you to escape reality and venture out for a vacation.

This man can compliment, and he can compliment goooood. He has no issue expressing his gratitude and respect for you through his words and oh boy is he good with his words.

Seeing you scared or fearful wounded him enough the first few times that it now melts him into a puddle at the first sign of worry from you.

this is his *please don’t be worried/upset* look

He doesn’t mind one bit helping you bathe and dress after a long day of work. He even brushes your hair.

Your words mean everything to him, he wants to hear it. (He praises you for it in return 🤭)

For all the excursions you often clung to him like a backpack atop his bike— he decided a spare motorcycle helmet just wouldn’t do for you anymore and had one made to match his.

His date at any and every auction, he revels in getting to flaunt you around all dolled up and on his arm. Some even say his demeanor changed since you began attending these events with him..

read zayne’s version here

requests open ❤︎

[heritageposts]

🇵🇸 From BDS:

This year’s Israeli Apartheid Week will be the most important since IAW was launched 20 years ago! With the ongoing Nakba at its height, Israel is carrying out the world’s first ever live-streamed genocide against 2.3 million Palestinians in Gaza while it continues to entrench its 75-year-old settler-colonial apartheid regime against all Indigenous Palestinians. Over the past few months, people around the world have carried out inspiring actions building people power to end state, corporate and institutional complicity in Israel’s #GazaGenocide and contribute to the Palestinian struggle for freedom, justice, and equality. With the failure of the international system, under US and Western hegemony, on full display, we will organize IAW throughout the month of March to bring justice from below. Save the date - March 1st - March 30th; an entire month of action and BDS mobilizations to end complicity in genocide, build grassroots power towards liberation and the dismantling of Israel’s settler-colonial apartheid regime. Let’s make this year’s IAW our most impactful ever!

In anticipation of the upcoming Israeli Apartheid Week, BDS has called for an escalation of our boycott campaigns.

To find out how you can join a specific BDS campaign, or how you can contribute towards IAW, you can use the search function on their website to find a BDS-affiliated organization in your country.

If you and your organization have an event planned for Israeli Apartheid Week (IAW), you can register them with BDS here.

🇵🇸 For individuals unaffiliated with an org, you can still support and participate in IAW by:

Boycotting all products from Israel and from companies profiting off the occupation of Palestine. Here are the official BDS targets. For a more extensive list of products, check in with one of the BDS affiliated organizations in your country (they might tell you, for instance, what processed food items at your local grocery store should be avoided).

Share information about BDS on social media, with friends and family, and with your local community.

For BDS targeted brands, refrain from making or sharing any content that helps that company's outreach and branding. No more memes mentioning the brand, no pictures showing their logo, no more free advertising. Boycotting here isn't just about the loss you as a costumer can inflict on the company by not purchasing their product, it's also about damaging the brand's reputation, and limiting their customer outreach.

I highly encourage you to join a BDS-affiliated org, but if for whatever reason you can't, then these are concrete and actionable steps you can take.

Again, for more information about BDS and Israeli Apartheid Week, you check in with the official BDS website.

[fozmeadows]

there is no ethical consumption under capitalism

Years ago now, I remember seeing the rape prevention advice so frequently given to young women - things like dressing sensibly, not going out late, never being alone, always watching your drink - reframed as meaning, essentially, "make sure he rapes the other girl." This struck a powerful chord with me, because it cuts right to the heart of the matter: that telling someone how to lower their own chances of victimhood doesn't stop perpetrators from existing. Instead, it treats the existence of perpetrators as a foregone conclusion, such that the only thing anyone can do is try, by their own actions, to be a less appealing or more difficult victim.

And the thing is, ever since the assassination of United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson, I've kept on thinking about how, in this day and age, CEOs of big companies often have an equal or greater impact on the day to day lives of regular people than our elected officials, and yet we have almost no legal way to redress any grievances against them - even when their actions, as in the case of Thompson's stewardship of UHC, arguably see them perpetrating manslaughter at scale through tactics like claims denial. That this is a real, recurring thing that happens makes the American healthcare insurance industry a particularly pernicious example, but it's far from being the only one. Because the original premise of the free market - the idea that we effectively "vote" for or against businesses with our dollars, thereby causing them to sink or swim on their individual merits - is utterly broken, and has been for decades, assuming it was ever true at all. In this age of megacorporations and global supply chains, the vast majority of people are dependent on corporations for necessities such as gas, electricity, internet access, water, food, housing and medical care, which means the consumer base is, to all intents and purposes, a captive market. We might not have to buy a specific brand, but we have to buy a brand, and as businesses are constantly competing with one another to bring in profits, not just for the company and its workers, but for C-suites and shareholders - profits that increasingly come at the expense of workers and consumers alike - the greediest, most inhumane corporations set the financial yardstick against which all others are then, of necessity, measured. Which means that, while businesses are not obliged to be greedy and inhumane in order to exist, overwhelmingly, they become greedy and humane in order to compete, because capitalism encourages it, and because there are precious few legal restrictions to stop them from doing so. At the same time, a handful of megacorporations own so many market-dominating brands that, without both significant personal wealth and the time and resources to find viable alternatives, it's all but impossible to avoid them, while the ubiquity of the global supply chain means that, even if you can keep track of which company owns which brand, it's much, much harder to establish which suppliers provide the components that are used in the products bearing their labels. Consider, for instance, how many mainstream American brands are functionally run on sweatshop labour in other parts of the world: places where these big corporations have outsourced their workforce to skirt the already minimal labour and wage protections they'd be obliged to adhere to in the US, all to produce (say) electronics whose elevated sticker price passes a profit on to the company, but without resulting in higher wages for either the sweatshop workers overseas or the American employees selling the products in branded US stores.

When basically every major electronics corporation is engaged in similar business practices, there is no "vote" our money can bring that causes the industry itself to be better regulated - and as wealthy, powerful lobbyists from these industries continue to pay exorbitant sums of money to politicians to keep government regulation at a minimum, even our actual votes can do little to effect any sort of change. But even in those rare instances where new regulations are passed, for multinational corporations, laws passed in one country overwhelmingly don't prevent them from acting abusively overseas, exploiting more desperate populations and cash-poor governments to the same greedy, inhumane ends. And where the ultimate legal penalty for proven transgressions is, more often than not, a fine - which is to say, a fee; which is to say, an amount which, while astronomical by the standards of regular people, still frequently costs the company less than the profits earned through their unethical practices, and which is paid from corporate coffers rather than the bank accounts of the CEOs who made the decisions - big corporations are, in essence, free to act as badly as they can afford to; which is to say, very. Contrary to the promise of the free market, therefore, we as consumers cannot meaningfully "vote" with our dollars in a way that causes "good" businesses to rise to the top, because everything is too interconnected. Our choices under global capitalism are meaningless, because there is no other system we can financially support that stands in opposition to it, and while there are still small businesses and companies who try to operate ethically, both their comparative smallness and their interdependent reliance on the global supply chain means that, even if we feel better about our choices, we're not exerting any meaningful pressure on the system we're trying to change. Which means that, under the free market, trying to be an ethical consumer is functionally equivalent to a young woman dressing modestly, not going out alone and minding her drink at parties in order to avoid being raped. We're not preventing corporate predation or sending a message to corporate predators: we're just making sure they screw other worker, the other consumer, the other guy.

All of which is to say: while I'd prefer not to live in a world where shooting someone dead in the street is considered a valid means of redressing grievances, what the murder of Brian Thompson has shown is that, if you provide no meaningful recourse for justice against abusive, exploitative members of the 1%, then violence done to those people will have the feel of justice, because it fills the void left by the lack of consequences for their actions. It's the same reason why people had little sympathy for the jackass OceanGate CEO who killed himself in his imploding sub, or anyone whose yacht has been attacked by orcas - it's just intensified here, because where the OceanGate CEO was felled by hubris and the yachts were random casualties, whoever killed Thomspon did so deliberately, because of what he did. It was direct action against a man whose policies very arguably constituted manslaughter at scale; a crime which ought to be a crime, but which has, to date, been permitted under the law. And if the law wouldn't stop him, can anyone be surprised that someone might act outside the law in retaliation - or that regular people would cheer for them when they did?

[saintkaylaa]

𝐍𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫 🚬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐀𝐤𝐢 𝐇𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐗 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 2.9𝐤

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐀𝐤𝐢, 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Kinktober 2024 || I love Aki so much, but something about pervy Aki but against his will really does something to me. Happy Kinktober you disgusting pervs ᥫ᭡ Also big big thanks to my beta readers, I love you! ART by yuonnoaii on X

𝐈 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬

Aki was a devil hunter, but when it came to you, he fought both devils and demons just to not touch himself to the image of you.

You, his new neighbor, from across his balcony in the building over. Aki, who had not been with a woman in God knows how long. Overworked, burnt out, anti-social, with extreme suppressed sexual desires.

That was until he saw you.

If he was honest, he had completely forgotten that sex was even a thing—in all forms. Sex with another person, self-gratification, porn, lust, urges, desires—all of it. In his line of work there wasn’t any time for that, and in Aki’s case the only desire he really had was revenge, but that was a desire that he knew was going to take time to satiate.

The encounters that he’s had with you got increasingly more difficult for him with every passing instance.

At first it was just fleeting glances—no stares—at you in the beginning. You weren’t like anything he had ever seen before. Beautiful, captivating, and intriguing, so just looking at you, trying to catch a glimpse at you while you lingered and occupied your balcony across from his eventually should have been his first signal to have built a stronger disposition against you.

Then you talked to him, albeit a little insulting, mean, and even, well, intimidating, because the first instance was when you had straight up called him a pervert. Confronting him for his blatant staring and or borderline offensive, not so sneaky glances at you while he dragged through cigarettes, distracted by you. Blowing through cartons faster than he would have liked, because of you.

And he felt disgusted.

Grossed out that although yes, he found you mean, intimidating, and believed you had every right to call him a pervert, and irritated by his actions, he also found you incredibly sexy for it. Curious over what really lied under that confident mean exterior.

Every instance after that was the same. You two would find each other on your respective balconies, playing with the tension that was undoubtedly there. Bad tension. Negative tension, but tension nonetheless. Aki would get caught admiring you (ogling you from your perspective), you’d call him out, and he’d have to retreat into his apartment fighting all that hell had to offer just to not to stroke his cock to you.

Admittedly, it did get better when you would tease him for looking and make fun of him for even peeking at you from behind his bangs and a pink tint on his cheeks. You were ruthless, and it only made his desire for you grow.

Fuck. Then he talked back, and in your response, he knew that he was fucked for sure.

He had been in the shared mailing room of both your buildings. Sifting slowly through his mail in a poor attempt to avoid going back up to his apartment and finding you lounging around in skimpy pajamas in your living room—as he noted that you tended to do a lot in the mornings. But then you were there. As if manifesting from his mind and rounding the corner to enter the mailroom with him.

At that point he had half a mind to ask you if you were a devil, because no way were you now crushing an attempt he made to not be so perverted against you. It wasn’t fair, and he feared you for it.

It was avoidance at first. He didn’t know what to say to you, but then you spoke to him again, and it was like he lost total control of himself.

“See you later, pervert.” You had told him. It was teasing, but not at all lighthearted.

It was then that Aki decided to do something.

 

Nearly missing you by an inch, he took hold of your elbow and spun you back to face him. You gasped, arms tensing slightly as you look up at him with surprise. But he wanted to make sure he had you at full attention.

“Hold on,” he says lowly, his chest rumbling.

"Look, I don’t want you to think I’m a pervert, okay? I apologize if I’ve made you feel that way. You’re very pretty, is all.” He struggles to compliment, but his gaze doesn’t break away.

“I don’t mean harm.” He finishes, and he truly means that. His hand lingers on your elbow as he locks his dark blue eyes with yours.

You seem to hold your breath as you register his words, then you glance down at his hand still grasping you and slowly trail your eyes back up to his. Realizing his touch, he slowly unfurls his fingers and releases you.

Both of their skins are cold from the loss of heat.

“You must not know a lot of pretty girls.” You finally say, voice tight.

“None that look like you.” Aki replies right over your comment. What compelled him to say that he was unsure. He was never that forward, bold, or even confident, and especially not with women, but something about you made him act out.

“What’s your name?” You ask, your eyes transfixed on him.

Aki held your gaze, his expression unreadable as he sensed the intensity between you. Your question broke the thick silence that had settled, and he felt himself hesitating for only a brief moment before responding.

"Aki Hayakawa," he replied, his voice firm and steady, a hint of curiosity coloring his words, "And you?"

“Aki.” You repeat his name slowly, sounding out each syllable.

He knows you did that on fucking purpose. Now wondering what it would sound like if you moaned his name.

After another frustrating pause, Aki speaks, “So is your name something I have to earn or what?” He says flatly. Meeting your eyes with just a bit of intimidating irritation.

Your mouth parts slightly like you have something to say, but then your tongue glides over your perfect white teeth in one slow swipe. Amused, you were fucking with him again.

Aki cursed you in his head. The sudden disgusting thought of how your mouth would look wrapped around his cock. Your tongue gliding over his needy tip instead of your teeth.

“I’ll see you later, Aki.” You tease, but your voice is soft. Different than the other times you have teased him.

 

That night Aki was chilling in his living room when he heard the faintest sound of a sliding door open and close. He knew it must’ve been coming from outside... His neighbor, most likely out on her own balcony.

The sound was like a command to him now.

He stood up from his seat on the couch and walked towards his own sliding door. When he got close enough, he opened the door to look out, his eyebrow rising at the sight of you once more across the other building. His heart racing just a bit, his skin running warm, and he could feel the telltale sign of an impending erection as you turned to look at him. Like a dog responding to stimuli; Pavlovian.

Now he was moving without control, crossing out into his balcony, hands buried in his pajama pants. His eyes fixated on your form. Watching your every move. Your eyes met his, and suddenly Aki’s mouth opened to speak.

"Hey," He greeted you simply, his voice low as his eyes looked you up and down with this newfound (misplaced) confidence. You looked over at him, not at all surprised by his presence. You nodded towards him.

You’ve got to be kidding me, Aki thought to himself as he looked over at what you were wearing. A fucking short fitted satin slip, that left no room for imagination. Aki's eyes widened as he took in the sight of you, his breath hitching in his throat.

The slip clung to your every curve, showcasing your body in a way that rendered him mute. He was captivated, unable to tear his gaze away from the provocative sight before him.

He had expected to have a casual conversation. Especially after the conversation from earlier, but the combination of your clothes—or lack thereof—and the charged atmosphere between sparked something primal within him that he struggled to suppress. His hands tightened around the fabric of his pajama pants pockets, his body responding instinctively.

He was fucking perverted.

Aki cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure and speak in a controlled tone, despite his body now pulsing.

"What are you doing out so late?” He asked, taking a step closer to the railing so that you could better hear him from your own balcony. You tilted your head a little confused. Crossing your arms over your chest, your tits being pushed up a little as you did it.

Aki cursed you in his head.

“What am I doing on my own balcony?” You quizzed from across the building.

Aki's gaze flickered down to your crossed arms, his eyes involuntarily drawn to the way your breasts were lifted and accentuated by the position. He suppressed a groan, feeling his desire flaring up. Your innocent question only served to increase the tension between you and him, heightening the forbidden allure of the situation. He clenched his fists, forcing his mind to focus on your words rather than the erotic image in front of him.

"Yes, what brings you out here this late?" he replied, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control. He couldn't allow himself to be consumed by lust, not when he had done so well by not giving in to his desires before. But with your tempting presence, it felt like a constant battle against his own morality.

“Aki, you’re asking a lot of stupid questions. I live here. I can do whatever I want in my own apartment on my own balcony. I could stand naked out here if I wanted.” You laughed, the faintest tone of annoyance. However, you knew what your words would do to him. Now that you were acutely aware of how you made him feel after earlier’s display.

The mental image of your naked body forced Aki to shut his eyes for a moment and let out the smallest groan. He knew you couldn’t hear, but he also knew that you knew what you were saying. What you were doing. Vexing him the way that you did. The lust was beginning to consume him.

It was a losing battle. He was fucking losing.

Aki's eyes snapped open, the intensity in his gaze now almost feral as he stared at you across the distance. He hated you for playing with his desires so effortlessly, for knowing exactly how to push his buttons.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the ache in his crotch only grew more insistent. The walls he had erected to protect his focus, his sanity, and his character were crumbling under the weight of his lust.

“Every word you speak is deliberate.” He declared, like he was accusing you. His eyes trailed up your body in a moment of weakness.

“Yeah, it is.” You assured quickly.

Then there was palpable silence.

Aki's mind was a whirlwind of desires and frustrations, his body seemingly betraying him at every turn. He watched you move to your door then, each subtle action a temptation that he couldn't ignore. His gaze lingered on you as you turned your back to him, exposing your ass to him. The throbbing in his pants intensified, his body craving release. He can only imagine the wet spot of pre in his underwear.

“You make it too easy.” You laughed; your voice, filled with taunting amusement, cut through his haze of desire, reminding him of his vulnerability and the hold you actually had over him.

If Aki was smart, he’d listen to his rational side, urging him to regain control and to retreat to the safety of his own apartment. But the magnetic pull he felt towards you rooted him to his spot.

“Don’t burst a blood vessel touching yourself tonight.” You mocked so boldly and bluntly it sent Aki reeling. But before Aki could even think of responding, you had already retreated back into your apartment. Aki stood there, stunned, face flushed with both embarrassment and frustration. How could you see right through him, exposing him so easily and without mercy.

Fuck.

He didn't have time to process your leave, as he felt himself unraveling. His body pulsed with need, his erection straining against the confines of his pants. God damn, it hurt.

With a frustrated growl, Aki turned abruptly and retreated into his own apartment, shutting the sliding door with a resounding thud. He paced back and forth in his living room, grappling with the overwhelming surge of desire that threatened to consume him. He knew he had to find release, to quiet the burning ache that clawed at him. But his thoughts were clouded, his focus scattered under the weight of it all. He needed to regain control and find his center once again. But in that moment, desire won out.

He had suppressed his urges too many times in the last few weeks for anything to work this time. He just kept getting harder the more he thought of you, so he stopped pacing and just stood in the middle of his living room looking down at his crotch. Groaning for it to go away. Flashes of his neighbor’s body, your tits, your ass, your mouth, your pretty face, the way you rolled your tongue, the way you said his fucking name. It was all too much, and Aki had half a mind to start touching himself.

It was over.

Aki hurriedly moved to the bathroom in his room, turning on the cold water with the intent of splashing his face. Instead, he braced himself on the sink, letting the water run, the cold ceramic helping alleviate his rising temperature but it wasn’t enough. He closed his eyes to breathe, only to prove a mistake. Because all that played in his head, over and over again, was your interaction this morning, and without even realizing it, Aki started to unbuckle his pants.

Your words played in Aki's mind over and over, along with your face and body in his head repeatedly. The way you looked at him—the way you had been teasing him—fucking with him—it was just too much.

He let out a little groan as his pants began to loosen, his brain barely registering the movement as his eyes closed and he fell into this trance. Aki’s hand slid into his pants to grab hold of his angry, needy cock. The touch instantly gave him relief. He breathed out shakily, his hand moving against himself a couple times to the thought of you in that satin slip. The way it hugged all your curves, the way it pressed up against your tits...

How would they look getting fucked by him?

“Fuuuuck��” He breathed out.

He couldn't help but moan softly, pleasure pinpricking across his skin as his hand moved faster and firmer. His mind filled with vivid images of you, and every stroke of his hand brought him closer to release. He could almost feel your presence, as if you were there with him, encouraging him to let go of his inhibitions and give in to his carnal desires.

God, what would you say if you knew what he was doing to the thought of you.

He imagined what it would be like to plunge his cock into your mouth, letting your tongue run along the underside of his cock and down his balls; hot and wet saliva coating his length.

What it would sound like if he fucked that mean, intimidating act out of you. Imagining how pretty your pussy must be—as pretty as you were? And how pretty that pussy would look clenching around him.

And then he replayed the way you had said his name. Trying to envision all the ways he would try to get you to scream, moan, and cry his name.

“F-Fuck Aki! Give it to me! Please more! Aki!”

Aki’s breathing grew heavier, his movements becoming more urgent as he neared the edge. His body responded with an intensity he had never experienced before.

 

And then he imagined your face.

 

With a final moan and a few more sloppy strokes, he came. His body shuddering, knees nearly buckling, as one of the hardest orgasms he’s had in so long consumed him. Ropes of hot, thick, white cum splurged out into the sink and swirled down the drain with the running water.

As he stood there, panting and spent, Aki couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief and shame. He had succumbed to his desires; let them consume him in the most perverted way possible. This wasn’t him. It was nasty and disrespectful... But deep down, he knew that the battle wasn't over. The allure of his neighbor still lingered, as did the pent-up lust that threatened to consume him later—again.

After cleaning up and taking a cold shower, Aki lay in bed annoyed and angry, to say the least. Still disgusted with himself, but also disappointed. Not only for giving in to his lustful temptation, but ultimately for letting you have this power over him. Worse was the fact that he touched himself to the thought of you, and he didn’t even know your fucking name.

 

 

If only he knew that just across his balcony, in the building over... you were still knuckles deep to the thought of him.

ꫂ ၴႅၴ𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

© saintkaylaa 2023-2024 do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work. reserved rights to any original ideas. I do not own any established characters. All rights reserved.

[corinthianism]

SOMETHIN' STUPID || VIKTOR

pairing: viktor (arcane)/fem!reader additional tags: viktor's pov, viktor is a certified yearner, maybe ooc, unrequited love that's actually requited, no physical descriptions for reader other than having dainty fingers and being shorter than viktor, hopefully correct use of czech pet names, barely proofread synopsis: the ever-brilliant viktor finds himself drowning in feelings for his colleague, so what does he do? bury them, of course.... until he learns that love is not something you can just ignore.

author's note: hello everyone! it's been a long, long while since i've written anything so i thought i would try and see if the ol' writing machine (aka my brain) still works lol. this is more of a blurb than anything so please go easy on me. also trying out something new by writing in present tense (lmk if it flows well!) viktor might be a little ooc but i'm still trying to fully understand him. hopefully my characterization of him in future fics (if any) will be more faithful to the viktor you're all familiar with. anyways, enjoy 2k words of viktor yearning like CRAZY 🫶🏼

Viktor doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. How many more times would your eyes meet from across the room at one of those parties he never really wanted to attend in the first place? How many more times would your fingers brush in the early morning, when he accepts the steaming sweetmilk that you so kindly got for him? How many more times would your laughter intermingle softly late into the night, when exhaustion took over and your writing started to look more like chicken scratch rather than letters?

He might just go insane.

How was it possible to want someone this much? Maybe he’s experienced something like this before, in tiny amounts, for people he hasn’t thought about in years. Deep down, he knows that even if he added all of those fleeting romances together, it would still only be a fraction of what he feels now. For you.

He can’t pinpoint that exact moment in time when everything changed. There were definitely a few of those moments that stood out more than others, but none of those instances were the catalyst for whatever this is. But they certainly don’t help his case.

A few words of encouragement.

A book recommendation.

A smile— so soft, so intimate, he briefly allows himself to believe that it was meant just for him. Something precious for him to keep, to be his and his alone.

In the dim light of the lab, he finds you asleep on your desk. The humming glow of the hex crystals leaves you blanketed in a gentle blue. He’s heard tales of this before, from when he bothered to listen to such things. It would happen just like this, they said: his heart would beat so fast, it threatened to leave his chest entirely. His skin would burn with something unmistakable, a feeling that left one in a state of simultaneous confusion and clarity.

He feels it all now and he finds it polarizing. It’s too much and not enough. He chases and runs away from it at the same time. A part of him wants it to stop, to go away and leave him forever for the sake of ending this game he’s painfully losing… but a greater part of him hopes that it will grow and grow to the point where maybe you’ll notice and do something about it. His palms get a little sweaty just thinking about making the first move. Symptoms of a lovesick fool.

The soft sound of your breathing quiets the pounding of his heart, prevents the wretched feelings from overflowing and spilling everywhere. Even if it was just for tonight. Tonight, he keeps his lips sealed, fights to keep himself from reaching for you. It would be unbecoming of him.

His eyes land on you again, observing how your head rested on your arms. Understanding hits him then, why you’re so bothered by seeing him stay at the lab so late that he ends up falling asleep. That position couldn’t have been comfortable. Of course, he knew that from experience, but it’s your comfort he’s thinking about right now. He wonders if this is what you felt whenever you woke him up and implored him to go home.

Surely not.

No, he can’t wrap his head around you possibly viewing that act the same way he does. Not when he wants to bottle this moment, wants to capture the preciousness of seeing you like this. It just can’t be the same.

So can you really blame him if when he finally rests a hand on your shoulder to wake you gently, he lets it linger there for just a little longer? An infinitesimal piece of time that he claims for himself. He never thought himself to be the sentimental type, but he cherishes it all: he cherishes the way you blink slowly as you returned to the waking world, and your tired murmur of his name that makes his chest tighten.

It’s just a wisp of a moment, never really tangible enough for him to hold in his hands, but he cherishes it all the same. It’s burned in his memory, in his very being, the same way everything else about you is. Every piece of you that you so generously gifted him.

“You should go home, darling.”

The word slips past his lips before he could even think about it. But he allows himself this one indulgence. He can’t help it. He’s always been a bit greedy.

“What time is it?” you ask.

“Far too late for you to be here,” he answers.

You huff out a breath of a laugh, “That’s rich coming from you.”

He finds himself smiling. How does someone manage to be so endlessly endearing without even trying?

It takes an embarrassing amount of effort for him to pull back his hand from your shoulder. Had you been more awake and had the room been brighter, he might’ve schooled his expression into something more neutral. Something to hide the unbridled adoration in his eyes. He doesn’t do that now. With the shield of darkness to protect him, he lets the mask come off. He lets his affection for you wash over him in waves. It would’ve been liberating, if it wasn’t for the tiny detail that that affection was unrequited.

Still, he says your name with utmost care. “You must go home and rest.”

To his surprise, you listen. You mumble a tired "okay” and gather your belongings, slipping on your coat. “You should go home, too, Vik.”

“I will. Soon. I just need to finish a few things.”

Your face twists into a frown, “No, you’ll do that tomorrow.” Before he can interject, you speak up again, “Just… come with me? It’s late and I don’t want to walk home alone.”

His brain refuses to reconcile with what his eyes see: the trepidation written all over your features, the way you clutch the lapel of your coat just a little tighter. He knows it’s a trap, you just want to get him out of the lab but how could he possibly reject the promise of a few more minutes with you? The chance to pretend, even if it’s just for those precious few minutes, that he was taking you home as someone more than a colleague? More than a friend? Only a fool would say no to you. Or perhaps he was a fool either way. He really must be going insane.

He says yes almost instantly.

It’s cold in Piltover tonight. It makes his bad leg ache more than it already does, and so his strides are a bit more careful. He doesn’t say anything about how you also slow down to match his pace but he appreciates your considerate gesture nonetheless.

The moon hangs in the sky big and bright, making everything around you seem softer. It’s picturesque. Almost romantic. He tries his best not to entertain that thought for much longer. Instead, he focuses on what you say to him so he could ignore the traitorous thoughts his mind conjures up and the way his knees were protesting because of the cold.

Conversation with you is easy— terrifyingly so. It was one of the first things he noticed about you when you first met.

Early on in the process of finding sponsors and securing funding, him and Jayce quickly realized that they needed help. Yes, Jayce is a friend of the Kiramman family. Yes, Viktor is Heimerdinger’s protégé, but they’re academics. At the end of the day, Jayce’s warm personality could only do so much when he was still greatly inexperienced with navigating these more political spaces and for all of his experience and perceptiveness, Viktor knows he’s no good at sweet-talking sponsors, either.

Enter, you.

Caitlyn Kiramman was the one to recommend you, her former tutor. Jayce was quick to back her up, remembering that you were also Academy alumni; a particularly strategic businesswoman. Viktor was hesitant at first, knowing that a third party could complicate things. Hextech was born out of the dream to help people. He worried that bringing business and politics (even though he knew it was necessary) into the mix would warp Hextech into something it wasn’t. Jayce convinced him to take a gamble, and it seemed that the potential of Hextech was enough to bring you back to Piltover from your travels across Runeterra.

It took him a while to warm up to you. You weren’t nobility, but most definitely well-off. Even more so after your years as a business consultant to organizations all over the continent. He respected you, sure, but Viktor had a hard time trusting someone who was so… privileged. How could you possibly understand how important it was that Hextech remained a beacon of hope for the less fortunate? Perhaps it was naive of him to think that way, as much as he hated to admit it.

But true to your reputation, you delivered exactly what they needed. You bridged the gap between Viktor and Jayce’s hopes for Hextech and the support they needed from sponsors, protecting them and their inventions from being taken advantage of.

Suffice to say, you earned his admiration.

Never in a million years would Viktor imagine that you would captivate his entire being, too.

It was daunting. Scary, really. Especially now that he’s beginning to understand the full extent of his affections. Years and years of burying that softness from his youth deep beneath the armor of his intellect— all that hard work diminished by a pretty girl. Gods, he really is just a man. Not even that. With you, he feels like a highschooler with a crush. It’s painful. Downright humiliating. But he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not when you link your arm around his, laughing at something he said. Was he really that funny? Probably not. He’s just happy to make you laugh.

“You don’t have to be nice about it. Salo is a grade-A asshole,” you grinned. “We both know it. If I have to spend another dinner with him present I might actually stab a fork in my eyes.”

He smiles, “Ah, but that wouldn’t save you from his incessant chatter.”

“I’ll stab the fork into my ears too."

“I might just follow after you,” he hums, “you’ll have to check if it works first, though.”

Your friendship blossomed when your visits to the lab became less for work and more for leisure. You wanted to visit, wanted to learn more about what he and Jayce were working on and why. Everything after that was just dominoes. You, with all your fiery passion and sharp wit, have become a permanent fixture in his life and now? He could hardly imagine life without you in it. You're one of his dearest friends and, much to his dismay, that makes his current predicament even more challenging than it already is.

Before he knew it, the two of you were standing in front of your apartment building— one of the most luxurious in Piltover. He could only imagine how much it cost, though he knew for certain that your penthouse probably barely made a dent in your wealth. He’s gotten somewhat used to your differing lifestyles, but he’s never completely able to not marvel at it. A gust of wind kissed his skin once more as he turned to look at you.

“This is me,” you say, gloved hands in your pocket and your lovely, lovely face framed by your hair and ruby red scarf. He recognizes it as the gift he gave you a year ago now. A spur-of-the-moment purchase on one of the rare occasions he was actually outside Academy grounds. He remembers thinking that the color would look nice on you. He was right. He finds himself holding onto the seconds before he has to go. “Thank you for walking me home, Viktor.”

“Of course,” he nods but the calmness of his voice don’t match the way his eyes bore into yours. “It’s only proper.”

“Proper?”

“Yes. Proper. I am a gentleman, after all.”

His accent comes out thicker, emphasizing the words more than he means to.

“I didn’t take you for someone who cared much about propriety,” you tease.

“Is it because I’m from the undercity?” he deadpans and he relishes in the look of horror on your face that replaces your grin.

“What? No!” you exclaim, smacking his arm when you realize he’s just joking. “You. Are. Impossible.”

A laugh bubbles out of his chest, “Oh, that’s cruel. You would hit a defenseless man? How heartless.”

“Shut up. That cane of yours is a weapon of war. Don’t think I haven’t seen you smack Jayce with it.”

“If I hit him with it, he probably deserved it.”

“Poor Jayce,” you laugh as well. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Viktor smiles.

“I do not think you could even if you tried, lásko."

He freezes and so do you. The laughter—the music—that you shared for the briefest of moments was thoroughly snuffed out, leaving you both in a silence that threatens to swallow him whole. He didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t mean to speak so gently, but there is not a part of Viktor that could withhold this sincerity from you. Specks of the truth, of the confession he’s barely managed to wrangle into submission and lock away somewhere dark and unreachable.

He pulls back on instinct. He’s shown too much, said too much. You don’t move. He is petrified.

Your eyes widen and he sees his reflection in them, staring back at him. This is it, he thinks. He’s crossed the line and he’ll have to deal with the crushing blow of your rejection.

You manage to compose yourself and what you say next is… well, unexpected. Your tone is light, clearing the air and allowing him to breathe again.

“Do you say that to every woman or am I a special case? I’d hate to be part of a roster.”

He’s taken aback, but he feels a weight lifted off his shoulders. You are a miracle in his eyes. Washing away his worries with a kind smile and a few choice words. He laughs again and this time, he doesn’t stop himself from speaking the truth. It’s now or never.

“Surely you know by now that you are singular,” he whispers, his accent a pleasant drawl in your ears. He takes a step forward. It is gravity that pulls him in, not the Earth’s, but yours. A force that he can’t help but be drawn to. Not that he would ever dare to resist it now that his fear has shrunk down to something a little less debilitating.

His face is inches from yours. You don’t move. He gets a little braver.

“I do not appreciate your implication that I would pay attention to anyone else,” his voice is low, honest. “As if anyone could compare to you. As if you don’t hold my very being in the palm of your hand. Miláčku, I adore you. Don’t you know that?”

There is a hint of pleading in his tone, begging you to understand the full scope of his feelings from those few words so that he wouldn’t unravel before you, a bundle of nerves and petals the same shade as your scarf.

“Say something. Please,” his fear rears its ugly head once more. “Say the word and we’ll pretend this never happened. I will remain your colleague and nothing more. A friend, if you would allow it.”

“What if I don’t want that?” you ask, your own voice a little shaky with uncertainty. Maybe it was also fear. That, he’s not quite sure.

Viktor doesn’t fully trust what he’s hearing, thinks it to be a figment of his deluded imagination, but his heart is screaming at him now to push forward.

“What is it you want, lásko? Tell me and it shall be yours.”

You're almost breathless when you finally respond, “You. I want you."

The world stills. Time itself screeches to a halt. There is only you and him, together in this moment that he knows will be woven into the threads of his soul. He has never known euphoria quite like this. He can’t name it yet, doesn’t know if this is love. He can only hope that it will be.

When he looks into your eyes again, he does not see his own terrified reflection. He just sees you. And the sheer intensity of your gaze that rivals his own. Have you always looked at him that way? Was he just too blind to see it?

“Do you mean that?” he finds himself asking. He has to— has to make sure that this is real.

You smile again, dainty fingers intertwining with his. It is a gentle smile, a hopeful smile that answers his question before you even open your mouth.

“I do,” your voice is so gentle and yet it squeezes his heart. “I’m yours, Viktor, if you’ll have me.”

He brings your knuckles to his lips, places a reverent kiss on them like you’ve given him the world. In a way, that’s exactly what you did. Maybe his lips were always meant to be on your skin, worshipping you like the goddess you are. It feels too natural for it to mean anything else.

And for the first time in a long time, he allows himself to hope.

“I would love nothing more.”

[celestiamour]

Hello can you please do hcs for su-bong x sweet fem reader? By sweet I mean nice to everyone and loved/liked by almost everyone so people are shocked he pulled 😭 (sorry if it’s a bit specific!) Thank you!

ft. choi su-bong x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ sweetheart! reader┊0.5k words

contains: established relationship, mentioned drug use

➤ author's note: another short one served but they are so cute omg

╰₊✧ most people in the games don’t like thanos, even his fans who survived the first games are learning why “never meet your heroes” is such a popular saying. he’s obnoxious, arrogant, temperamental, unpredictable in dangerous ways (especially when high) with how he dances with death, and rarely ever considers the well-being of others unless they are part of his team. they prefer to steer clear of them as nothing good could ever come from associating with a hooligan like him, and they tell you to do the same because he would only be a bad influence.

╰₊✧ when they find out a sweetheart like you is actually his girlfriend, their jaws go slack and their eyes go round in shock. not a fling to pass the time, not a situationship, his real girlfriend whom he’s very committed to. you, the darling girl everyone loves who gives massages to the elderly and always gives her milk away to anyone who needs it, dating some fuckass rapper who is a menace to society. 

╰₊✧ while your boyfriend frequently flexes you as his partner, truth be told, he’s not sure how he pulled you either but is too scared to ask just in case you realize you can do better than him. 

╰₊✧ he’s so smitten with you, by the way, it’s almost pathetic. his personality turns a complete 180 degrees and gives kang dae-ho a run for his money in the contest of golden retriever personality, a complete and utter simp (do people even still use that word anymore) for you— you say “jump,” he asks “how high.” he would probably quit using drugs if you asked him to and supported him through withdrawals, which is probably why he’s a bit more sneaky about it and you haven’t noticed yet.

╰₊✧ never says sorry first after arguments because of how stubborn he is, but he feels so guilty when you sputter a string of apologies through tears seconds after that he might start crying too because you’re just too sweet for him. 

╰₊✧ deviates from his usual style of songwriting to write more romantic stuff dedicated to you with lots of motifs about heavenly angels and saccharine sugar. he finds the final product a little embarrassing because of just how different it is to his raps, but you always love it and listen to it at least a hundred times before adding it to your favorites. also, he has so many playlists with you in mind, he probably has a separate account for them. he puts a little too much thought into curating the perfect background music for dates, for dancing around the house, or just to listen to with headphones when he’s thinking about you in any instance.

╰₊✧ matching icons on your social media with half a heart frame so when you put them together it’s a heart around the two of you because he’ll be damned if the entire world doesn’t know that you’re his and he’s yours.

[barnacles34]

Steamy Mornings and Massages (Winter x Male OC)

7k words

Tags: smut, fluff, office sex, office massage, soulmates, romance, very love-heavy

Chapter 1: The Day After

"Let's just stay here," Minjeong murmured, pressing soft kisses to the crown of Junho's head. The morning alarm had shattered what his typically precise mind had categorized as Optimal Comfort Configuration™, but neither of them had moved to silence it[1].

His face remained buried in the crook of her neck, accepting what his mind reluctantly acknowledged as the only form of comfort he'd ever truly wanted. "Well, my secretary," he rumbled against her skin, the possessive pronoun carrying new weight in the morning light, "on a very important day, doesn't want to go to work?" Despite his words, his arms tightened incrementally around her waist, betraying his own reluctance.

Minjeong's embrace constricted in response, her Busan accent thick with morning warmth. "What are you going to do? Fire me?" Despite the implied challenge, she still continued to press soft kisses on his forehead. He tightened his embrace further, relishing in the warmth of Minjeong.

The challenge in her voice activated something primal in his executive functioning. His teeth grazed her neck in warning, hovering over precisely the spot that would make any low-necked blouse useless to wear for the following days. "Maybe," he murmured, his hand sliding to the small of her back with deliberate intent, dangerously close to the curve of her backside, "I'll fire you and keep you here, all day long, so that you belong only to me."

"That's..." her breath hitched as his hand dropped lower, "...rather unprofessional of you."

He lifted his head just enough to fix her with that boardroom stare that never failed to make her pulse race. "Says the woman currently preventing her CEO from attending his meetings." Her CEO? Something warm raced inside of her—she thought, her ceo? And this time, she wrapped her arms tighter—however much her thin arms could tighten; nevertheless, an affectionate hug.

"I prefer to think of it as optimizing your morning routine," she countered, though her professional efficiency was somewhat undermined by the way she melted under his touch, furthermore when he traced the curves of her backside. "Some things are more important than the Zhang Corp merger."

His laugh vibrated against her throat. "Careful, Secretary Kim. That sounds dangerously close to insubordination."

"And what does the CEO do with insubordinate employees?" The question emerged soft and weaker than intended as his mouth traced a deliberate path along her collar, trying her most obnoxiously.

"That depends," he murmured, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made her breath catch. "Are they all as beautiful as you when they disobey direct orders?"

She attempted to maintain her composure, though her hands betrayed her by pulling him closer. "I wouldn't know. I've never seen you like this with other employees[2]."

"No," he agreed, suddenly serious as he raised his head to meet her gaze. "You haven't. You won't."

The intensity in his eyes made her throat tight. "Promise?"

Instead of answering, he caught her mouth in a kiss that effectively ended all discussion of work protocols and proper business conduct[3]. The morning sun painted complex equations of light across their entangled forms, but for once, neither of them was counting the minutes.

—

[1] The first recorded instance of CEO Kim's morning alarm continuing past its initial 0.3-second alert phase, a fact that would require significant updates to the home automation system's behavioral prediction models.

[2] The security system's emotion recognition protocols flagged this moment for what its algorithms could only classify as "Unprecedented Display of Executive Vulnerability."

[3] Later analysis would suggest that certain forms of insubordination yielded surprisingly positive results in terms of overall company morale, though these findings were kept strictly off the official record.

—

"You haven't eaten properly in days," Minjeong observed softly, her fingers tracing the subtle tension in his shoulders that most wouldn't notice. But she wasn't most people—she'd spent months learning to read the microscopic signs of his stress levels[4].

"I've been eating," he defended, though his attempt at authority was somewhat undermined by the way he instinctively relaxed under her touch.

"Coffee and quarterly reports don't count as meals," she countered, continuing her gentle exploration of his shoulder muscles. "I've watched you skip lunch three times this week alone."

He lifted his head to study her face, finding that mix of strength and tenderness that had first undone him. "You keep track of my meals?"

"I keep track of everything about you," she admitted, not backing down from his intense gaze. "Someone has to notice when you forget to take care of yourself."

His hand curved around the nape of her neck, thumb brushing her pulse point. "And you've appointed yourself to that position?"

"Consider it an extension of my secretarial duties," she murmured, then gasped softly as he tightened his grip in warning.

"There's nothing secretarial about the way you take care of me," he corrected, voice low and dangerous. "Is there, Minjeong-ah?"

The informal address, rarely used, made her breath catch. "No," she agreed quietly. "There isn't."

He studied her for a long moment, his analytical mind cataloging the flush in her cheeks, the slight quickening of her breath, the way she yielded to his touch while somehow maintaining that core of quiet strength[5]. "You're dangerous," he finally said, “dangerously beautiful, so beautiful,” then a kiss on the side of her neck which, eventually, will turn into a hickey and Minjeong hadn’t the power to resist her CEO’s advances anymore.

"Me?" She replied, out of breath, tremored, brilliantly transformed by her smile—the type of smile men fight wars for, the type of smile sinewy sociopathic CEOs would drop down for. "I'm just trying to make sure Korea's most brilliant CEO—I mean, my CEO, remembers to eat breakfast." Her small hand collected the waves of his hair, the aroma of the shampoo she recommended wafted in the air.

“Minjeong, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Is that a problem?” She pulled back her hand along his scalp, gathering hair, then trailing all down his nape, to his back: the type of affection that says, even if you were insane, I’d still be crazy about you.

Instead of answering directly, he pressed his lips to her forehead, then her temple, then the corner of her mouth—a calculated sequence of kisses that made her melt further into his embrace. "The only problem," he murmured against her skin, "is that you're making it very difficult to want to leave this bed."

—

[4] Her observation logs, never shared but meticulously maintained, included such details as the precise angle of his jaw when overwhelmed, the subtle shift in his typing rhythm when stressed, and the exact tone of voice that meant he'd skipped meals.

[5] The home automation system's behavioral analysis protocols struggled to categorize this new dynamic, where authority and surrender seemed to flow both ways simultaneously.

—

"Three days," Minjeong continued, her fingers finding the knots in his shoulders with practiced ease. "You've had that tension here since the Singapore deal started falling apart." The morning light caught the subtle furrow in his brow as he processed her words, realizing she'd been tracking his stress levels without him noticing. Her touch was methodical yet tender, each pressure point targeted with the same precision she applied to his scheduling.

"I didn't think anyone had noticed," he admitted, then caught her knowing smile. "Except you."

"I always notice," she replied simply. "Like how you've been drinking twice your usual coffee intake, or how your left eye twitches slightly when the board sends those passive-aggressive emails." Her hands moved lower, finding another point of tension. "You hide it well, but not from me."

He caught her wrist, bringing it to his lips. "It becomes…oddly weird when I see you do the things I usually do." The tease in his voice was softened by the way he pressed kisses to her fingertips.

"Consider it preventive maintenance," she countered, not backing down despite Junho trying to hide his habits under the rug, not backing down despite the heat in his gaze. "Someone needs to monitor your functionality levels[6]."

"Functionality levels?" His laugh rumbled against her skin as he shifted to hover over her. "Is that what we're calling this?"

"Would you prefer 'executive performance metrics'?" She managed to keep her voice steady even as his mouth traced a deliberate path down her throat. "I have spreadsheets..."

"Of course you do," he murmured, teeth grazing her collarbone in retaliation. "My perfectly thorough secretary, tracking every detail."

"Not just details," she breathed, hands sliding up his chest. "I know when you skip lunch to avoid the board members. When you stay late reviewing reports that could wait until morning. When you need..." she paused as his hand curved possessively around her hip, "...someone to remind you that you're human."

The words hung between them, heavy with meaning. Junho lifted his head to study her face, finding that unique blend of submission and strength that had first undone his carefully constructed defenses[7]. "And you've appointed yourself to that position?"

"Someone has to." Her smile carried traces of Busan sunshine. "Besides, I'm uniquely qualified."

"How so, Minjeong-ah?” Another tease. 

“Because you love me.” Minjeong stated, matter of factly. And this time, Junho seized her tight, trapping her under him, seizing her two thin wrists. Then, pressed a deep kiss onto Minjeong’s delicate lips. After a while, he released himself from the kiss, the kiss that Minjeong reluctantly let go of—her lips pointing outwards like a duck as he left. Finally, he said, “That’s right, I love you.”

Her stomach stirred with butterflies and more.

—

[6] Her personal files, never shared but meticulously maintained, included detailed protocols for managing various levels of CEO stress responses, from subtle intervention to direct action.

[7] The exact moment of this defensive breach had been logged by the building's security systems, though the footage was classified under "Executive Privacy Protocols."

—

Minjeong lingered in bed, her heart performing calculations that had nothing to do with quarterly reports. The smart home system's sensors detected her elevated pulse rate, though no algorithm could properly quantify the joy radiating from her smile[8]. She stretched luxuriously against Egyptian cotton sheets that still held traces of his warmth, letting herself marvel at the reality of being here, in his space, surrounded by evidence of Junho.

Her mind couldn't help but catalog the endearing chaos around her—academic journals scattered across surfaces, a tablet displaying economic projections that had clearly been reviewed at 3 AM, several coffee cups in various states of abandonment. The morning light revealed what darkness and desire had hidden the night before: Junho's private space was a fascinating contradiction to his public persona, a detail she filed away with all her other precious observations of him.

Rising with practiced grace, she padded across cold hardwood floors, her bare feet gliding across the floor. His dress shirt from the previous night—the one that had hung open as they'd discovered more interesting uses for his mahogany desk—called to her like a siren song. She slipped it on, the fabric carrying traces of his unisex cologne and something uniquely him that made her stomach flutter[9].

Junho emerged from his ensuite bathroom to find her like this: drowning in his shirt, examining his space with that careful attention she brought to everything concerning him. His breath caught audibly.

"That's mine," he noted, his voice carrying that dangerous edge that never failed to make her pulse race.

She turned to face him, letting the hem of his shirt brush against her thighs. "Really? I think it’s mine."

—

[8] The home automation system logged this moment as: "Secondary User Biometrics Indicating Unprecedented Levels of Serotonin. CEO Response: Highly Favorable."

[9] Security footage would later reveal this as the exact moment CEO Kim's usually impeccable morning routine experienced a critical efficiency failure, though no one questioned why that particular shirt never made it to the dry cleaners.

—

"You know," Junho mused against her neck, his hands tracing idle patterns on her thighs, "for someone so concerned about my eating habits, you're being very distracting in my kitchen."

"Me?" Minjeong's attempt at innocence was undermined by the way her fingers kept playing with his hair. "I'm trying to feed you."

"Wearing my shirt. Sitting on my counter." His smile carried equal parts mischief and heat as he pulled back to look at her. "I'm starting to think this is corporate sabotage, Secretary Kim."

She tried to maintain her professional expression, though her lips twitched. "I would never compromise company productivity, 사장님."

"No?" He raised an eyebrow, fingers sliding deliberately higher under his shirt. "Then explain why Korea's most efficient CEO is currently contemplating skipping his 9 AM."

"Poor executive guidance?" she suggested, then squeaked as he nipped her earlobe in retaliation. "I mean... clearly you need better supervision."

"Is that your professional opinion?" His laugh was warm against her skin. "And I suppose you're volunteering for the position?"

"Well," she threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging gently, "I do have extensive experience in handling difficult executives."

He lifted his head, eyes dancing. "Difficult?"

"Demanding," she amended, then added with deliberate sweetness, "High-maintenance?"

"You," he declared, catching her wrists and pinning them behind her back with one hand, "are getting dangerously bold with your performance reviews[12]."

Her answering smile was pure sunshine. "Does that mean I'm not getting that raise?"

"Oh, I'll give you a raise," he promised, his free hand sliding up her spine as he pressed closer. "Right after we discuss your insubordination."

"I have a presentation prepared," she managed, though her breath hitched as his mouth found that sensitive spot behind her ear. "Complete with charts on CEO stubbornness metrics..."

"Using company resources for personal research?" His mock disapproval was somewhat undermined by the way he couldn't stop smiling against her skin. "That's a serious violation of corporate policy."

"And what's the penalty for that?" She arched into his touch, shameless. "More overtime with my boss?"

"Definitely." He captured her mouth in a kiss that tasted like laughter and promise. "Starting now[13]."

—

[12] The home automation system registered this interaction as a significant deviation from standard performance review protocols, though it noted remarkable improvements in overall satisfaction metrics.

[13] Later analysis of the kitchen's usage patterns would reveal this as the morning the coffee maker recorded its latest ever first brew, a delay that would become surprisingly routine.

—

"We're going to be late," Minjeong observed, though she made no move to leave her perch on the counter as Junho's hands mapped new territories beneath his borrowed shirt. The morning sun painted gold across his shoulders, and she couldn't resist tracing the light with her fingers.

"Concerned about punctuality now?" His smile was wicked against her collar. "After deliberately sabotaging your CEO's morning routine?"

"I would never," she protested, then gasped as his teeth found that sensitive spot below her ear. "I'm simply... optimizing your schedule."

"Is that what we're calling it?" His laugh vibrated through both their bodies as he pressed closer, effectively trapping her against the granite. "And how does this particular optimization benefit the company?"

Her fingers curled into his hair as his mouth traced a deliberate path down her throat. "Improved executive mood... increased satisfaction metrics... better work-life balance..."

"Very thorough analysis," he approved, his hand sliding higher up her thigh. "Though I think we need more data points[14]."

"준호야..." Her professional composure cracked entirely as his fingers found bare skin. "The Zhang Corp meeting..."

"Can wait." He lifted his head to meet her gaze, his smile carrying that perfect blend of authority and affection that never failed to undo her. "I'm conducting important research."

"On what?" She managed to arch an eyebrow despite her rapidly dissolving coherence. "How to make your secretary lose her mind?"

"Girlfriend," he corrected, voice dropping to that dangerous register as his thumb traced patterns on her inner thigh. "And I believe we were discussing your performance review[15]."

Jun abruptly stopped their performance review midway because the deal was on the line and time was running short. Minjeong was reminded of this painfully by how Jun pulled away from the kiss—she was pouty about it until they reached the office, when her damascus-like resolve kicks in.

—

[14] The kitchen's environmental sensors registered multiple instances of what could only be classified as "Critical Protocol Deviations," though these readings were automatically archived under "Executive Privacy Settings."

[15] HR would later note a curious correlation between the CEO's improved mood and these new "morning performance evaluations," though no one dared to investigate further.

—

Chapter 2: The Meeting

The Zhang Corp representatives sat across the mahogany conference table, their expressions carefully neutral as they reviewed the merger proposals. Minjeong maintained her perfect professional facade, though her pulse quickened every time Junho's hand brushed hers as she passed him documents[1].

"The third quarter projections," she murmured, leaning close enough that his cologne made her thoughts stray to their morning activities. His finger tapped twice against the paper—their private signal that he needed a moment to compose himself.

"As you can see," Junho addressed the room with that commanding presence that made board members squirm, though Minjeong could detect the slight roughness in his voice that hadn't been there before their morning 'delay', "our integration timeline is aggressive but achievable."

She took her seat beside him, crossing her legs in a way that made his pen pause fractionally on the contract. Two could play at this game of professional torture. His response was to rest his hand on her thigh under the table, hidden from view but commanding enough to make her breath catch[2].

"Secretary Kim," he said smoothly, his thumb tracing dangerous patterns against her skin, "would you pull up the logistics breakdown?"

"Of course, 사장님." She managed to keep her voice steady as she reached for her tablet, though her free hand found his wrist under the table, her fingers curling around it in what could have been either submission or warning.

The meeting proceeded with perfect corporate efficiency, though the undercurrent of tension between CEO and secretary created what the room's environmental sensors could only classify as "Critical Atmospheric Pressure"[3].

—

[1] The conference room's biometric scanners noted elevated heart rates in both CEO and secretary, though this data was diplomatically omitted from official meeting records.

[2] Security footage would later require careful editing to maintain professional appearances, particularly regarding certain "under-table activities."

[3] The Zhang Corp representatives would later confess to the fact that they could tell what was happening, no amount of demure leg-crossing could hide it. Though, they ignored it in order to get that deal (which was integral to them).

—

The private office door clicked shut behind them, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across imported marble floors. Junho rolled his shoulders, tension evident in his posture despite the meeting's success[4].

"Come here," Minjeong said softly, recognizing the signs of his post-negotiation stress. She guided him to his leather chair, her hands already moving to his shoulders. "You get so tense during these meetings." Instead of standing behind him and the chair, she stood in front, impending a mount to get ‘better access’ to his shoulders.

"Keeping my hands to myself requires considerable effort," he admitted, then groaned softly as her fingers found a particularly tight knot. "Especially when you keep giving me those looks."

"What looks?" Her innocent tone was betrayed by the way her hands slid lower, tracing patterns down his upper chest. "I was being perfectly professional."

He caught her wrist, tugging her to face him. "Professional? Is that what you call that thing you did with your pen?"

"Taking notes?" She smiled down at him, letting her fingers trail along his tie. "I'm very thorough in my documentation."

"Very thorough," he agreed, pulling her into his lap with practiced ease. "Though I noticed some interesting gaps in the meeting minutes."

"Oh?" Her hands returned to his shoulders, kneading the tension even as she shifted closer. "Like what?"

"Like how many times you deliberately brushed against me," his voice dropped lower as her fingers worked their magic, "or how your skirt kept riding up when you reached for files[5]."

"Maybe," she breathed, her ministrations becoming less therapeutic and more intentional, "your secretary just needs better supervision."

His laugh rumbled through both their bodies. "Is that what you need, Secretary Kim?"

Instead of answering, she pressed a kiss to that spot below his ear that always made him growl. His hands tightened on her hips in warning, but she didn't stop her exploration of his neck, her fingers still working the tension from his shoulders even as she created a different kind of pressure entirely.

"The door," he managed, though his hands were already sliding under her blouse.

"Locked," she murmured against his skin. "I'm very efficient."

"My perfect secretary," he agreed.

—

[4] The office's environmental controls registered what could only be classified as "Post-Meeting Stress Relief Protocol: Executive Override Engaged."

[5] The meeting's official minutes would maintain strict professional standards, though certain observations were kept in much more private records.

—

"You're still tense," Minjeong observed, her fingers tracing new patterns down his spine. The afternoon light painted gold across his desk, where various merger documents lay forgotten. "Let me take care of you properly."

She slid from his lap, moving behind his chair with practiced grace. Her hands returned to his shoulders, this time with more purposeful intent. Junho's head fell back as she worked a particularly tight knot, a sound escaping him that had nothing to do with professional conduct[7].

"That noise," she murmured, leaning close enough that her breath teased his ear, "is definitely not going in the meeting minutes."

His laugh turned into another groan as her thumbs hit a sensitive spot. "Keeping secrets from the board, Secretary Kim?"

"Only the interesting ones," she admitted, her hands sliding lower, tracing the muscles of his back through his expensive shirt. "Like how my very commanding CEO turns to putty when I do this..."

His hand shot up to catch her wrist in warning. "Careful," his voice carried that dangerous edge that made her stomach flip. "You're getting bold with your observations."

"Just maintaining detailed records," she breathed, not backing down despite his grip. "For example, when I press here..." Her free hand found another knot, making him inhale sharply. "Your left eye twitches slightly. And when I do this..." She leaned forward, letting her lips brush his neck. "Your pulse jumps exactly like it did during the merger talks[8]."

The chair spun suddenly, Junho pulling her back into his lap with decisive force. "You," he growled, hands spanning her waist, "are playing a dangerous game."

Her smile was pure innocence, though her fingers were already working his tie loose. "I'm simply being thorough in my duties, 사장님."

"Your duties," he repeated, watching her with dark amusement as she stripped his tie with expert efficiency. "Is that what we're calling this?"

"Would you prefer 'executive stress relief'?" She gasped as his teeth found her collar. "Or maybe 'personnel management'?"

His laugh vibrated against her skin. "I prefer," he murmured, hands sliding deliberately up her thighs, "when you stop talking altogether[9]."

—

[7] The office's audio sensors temporarily malfunctioned during this period, a technical glitch that occurred with suspicious regularity during certain "private meetings."

[8] Her personal files contained extensive documentation of CEO behavioral patterns, though certain observations were encrypted under "Private Research: Ongoing."

[9] The afternoon's remaining meetings would require creative rescheduling, though no one questioned why the CEO's mood had improved so dramatically.

—

"You missed a spot," Minjeong murmured against his mouth, her fingers finding another knot of tension in his shoulders even as she shifted closer in his lap. The leather chair creaked softly beneath them, a sound that would forever carry new associations in both their minds[10].

"Did I?" His hands slid higher beneath her skirt, mapping territories that were becoming dangerously familiar for office hours. "Or are you just making excuses to keep touching your CEO?"

She pulled back just enough to give him that look—the one that somehow managed to be both defiant and yielding. "I take my responsibilities very seriously, 사장님."

"I've noticed," he growled, catching her wrist as she tried to maintain the pretense of massage. "Like how seriously you took those meeting notes earlier. Very... thorough."

Her laugh caught in her throat as his lips found that sensitive spot below her ear. "I was documenting important observations."

"Such as?" His teeth grazed her pulse point, making her grip his shoulders for balance.

"Such as," she managed, though her professional tone wavered as his hands grew bolder, "how the great Kim Junho gets distracted when I cross my legs. How your voice drops exactly half an octave when you're trying not to react to me. How you tap your pen twice when you're thinking about—"

He silenced her with a kiss that effectively derailed all attempts at analysis[11]. When he finally pulled back, her dazed expression made him smirk. "Any other observations to record, Secretary Kim?"

“I must’ve forgotten, I usually remember better when you kiss me.” She hinted, and he obliged, letting his lips connect yet again with Minjeong. This time, the endless teasing reached a breaking point that both of them coalesced to at the same time.

He tightly grasped her backside then pulled her up from the executive chair to the executive table. Wherein, she was splayed across the wide table. “We really have to ban tables when we’re around each other.” She joked. 

“That’d be a terrible idea.”

“How so?”

“Where else could I splay you across like this, then explore you, centimeter-by-centimeter?”

“Hmm…” she hummed, pleased, "Yeah?"

“Yeah.”

“Then come here, my ceo.”

“My beautiful secretary, whatever shall I do with you?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you find out?” She pulled as tight as she could, locking her arms around his neck.

He obliged, meeting lips with her once again. He felt the softness of her face as he explored deeper into the kiss, forgetting time and everything except what was being shared between them. Journeying his hands further, entangling it into the silken strands of his lover as he deepened the kiss, and she replied with a deep sigh—trembling with a mix of her high register. 

“You’re such a good woman for me, Minjeong.” He said before nipping at her lower lip, catching it softly between his teeth with a teasing tug, Minjeong let out a breathless laugh, “you’re devouring me, Junho.” Regardless, he dug deeper, letting his entire body shift into Minjeong’s malleable, petite body—letting his hand explore more of her silken strands, almost saying, yes Minjeong, that is my purpose: to devour you.

Now, instead of every 5 seconds, Minjeong’s soft moans that only served to goad Junho on were musically released into his ears every second. Precautiously, she asked, “how good is the soundproofing in your private room-ah!”

“Not good enough to hide your moans, dear.” He replied, his voice like rough gravel. Her eyes widened suddenly from the need to hide her moans. Yet he dug deeper, letting his loin rub against her wet bottom, daring her moan out loud.

Despite all the regulations, the possible condemnation, their passions only grew more. Mouths moving in sync, gazes meeting momentarily, it wasn’t just kissing anymore—it was a language. The type of language where Minjeong coalesced to his dangerous games and learned to enjoy it, almost as much as him.

“Junho, seriously, I don’t want to be seen as-”

“Minjeong-ah, I don’t give a single fuck if my employees hear you and I.” The teeth that so brazenly tugged on her lower lips trailed down her neck, tracing the soft tendons.

Whispering, in a verbose way, “And as you are my secretary, my extension, my life-line, you’ll follow. Me.” And as Minjeong was getting battered by the gravel-slung voice of Junho—she hadn’t noticed how her blouse was opened, bra pushed down to reveal the breasts that he was so infatuated with—only until she felt the torsion of her nipple.

“Ngh!”

“I love that, Minjeong, scream out. I’ll fuck you until the entire floor hears you call my name.”

And another wet mewl that inspired his further deviance.

Feeling the soft suction of his mouth on her neck, she deduced that it could only mean one thing: another hickey just placed above the collar of her blouse, the same sort of hickey that the Zhang corp executives couldn’t keep their eyes off of—any justification in their minds that it was a skin discoloration was debilitated by how intensely Minjeong and Junho shared those deadly glances, likely to jump on each other as soon as they left—and they were right.

“Junho—ngh!”

“Louder.” He replied, testing her, “fucking. Louder.” Then he pressed deeper, grinding his rough textured pants on the creamy soft bottom of Minjeong.

“Please Junho, seriously.” Was all that she could get out of her bated breaths, her deep moans.

Then suddenly, he stopped, caressing the softness of her cheeks with his, back-handed, knuckles.

“You look so beautiful when you’re all tired and exhausted, did I tell you that before?” Letting the tune of his voice marinate with Minjeong (who was recovering from how hot and bothered she was just a second ago).

However good his intentions were, he wasn’t perfect. The way Minjeong’s body looked splayed against the messy paperwork, her blonde hair all frizzy and stuck to the desk, how her chest went in-and-out catching all the breath she lost—all of it made it impossible for him to resist anymore.

He pounced on her again, connecting lips against her wet, trembling lips that nonetheless accepted him so openly, like a warm cup of milk tea on a winter morning. That momentary pause had changed everything, Minjeong—now fully conquered by him—was begging for that penetrative action that he would give out so liberally to her.

“Naughty woman, bad secretary, what else?”

“Junho’s toy.” 

“Fuck.” And in a flash, his belt flew off, then in another flash, his pants fell down. 

“Tented much?” She was truly in no position to tease: a strategic error.

He grinned at the statement, finally, teasingly, let his underwear fall inch-by-inch. 

Simultaneously, she bunched up her legs then pulled off her panty that revealed the color combinations that he would die for. Though before he could look for longer, she crossed her shins—hiding the cause of Junho’s demise behind her thin legs.

They shared a giggle before Jun hugged her soft body.

“I will penetrate you in this office.”

“Yes. It appears so.”

“No, like, do you consent?”

“Idiot..” Minjeong pulled him in for another kiss. Which, coincidentally, made his tip graze her engorged and swollen core, Minjeong almost came instantaneously from that alone.

And he could tell, laughing, “Seriously, Minjeong?”

“It’s your fault, you trained me like this.”

“This is like our 3rd time.” He said, as if to brush it off.

“This is my 3rd time.” 

And Minjeong would be certainly hurt by the thought that Junho’s partners before her made it more than his 3rd time for him—some of them, the girlfriends, she saw. 

He caught on the clues before it was too late, “Minjeong, not to compare, but who else have I been so crazy about? Who else did I track for every minute of the day? Who else did I let in my home (his girlfriends didn’t, actually, get to enter his home)? Who else would make me lose composure when they’re out of my sight-line?”

Letting his forehead touch against hers, he could feel her heart rend and beat and do all sorts of bothered gymnastics.

“It’s always been about you, Minjeong. You are the brilliance of my life, the expansion of a born star—bright from millions of light years away.”

And she needn’t say anything or reply. Absolving him by wrapping her arms tighter around his nape, then holding up her head to desperately kiss Junho again and again.

In between all the kisses, he penetrated Minjeong. His length, constricted against her core, travelled softly—wringing out all sorts of noises. Her swollen pussy wrapped around him gently but tight. “I love you, Minjeong.” Was the last thing said before Minjeong’s eyes went into the back of her head—a cute habit—before she orgasmed and creamed all over.

As per her request, Junho didn’t stop. He let his hips move as slow as he could possibly go before it could be called torture. During all this, Minjeong grabbed for stability as she was getting fucked through her orgasm, feeling that intense thrusting from the love of her life as she covered his length in more of her slick.

“Oh f-” He covered her mouth this time, respecting her wish to stay at least a little lowkey in the office, whatever the hell that meant right now. Then, shallow thrusts turned into slow thrusts all the way to the hilt, getting Minjeong to scrunch her face in pleasure, eyebrows knitted in the highest pleasure, her mouth agape with strands of her saliva connecting the roof of her mouth to her tongue.

“I love you, Minjeong. Fuck. This is insane, having sex with you in my office.”

“Ngh~ I - I love you so much,” was all that she could get across before succumbing to her dopamine receptors—eyes joining the back her head. Junho connected lips with her again, letting her legs lock around his waist, then rubbing his pelvis against her engorged core, clitoris and all.

After Minjeong finally got used to the familiar motions, he grasped her thin waist, almost wrapping his two hands around the entire circumference of her tight waist. Then their eyes met momentarily, Junho had the I am going to fuck you through this desk eyes whilst Minjeong had the prey eyes that relentlessly coalesced to him. Though, before he could go wild, he brushed off the stray hairs stuck to her forehead, gave a reaffirming kiss on her forehead before pumping all the way in.

The small of her back surrendered to his tight grip, bending against the pushes and pulls. Her legs tightened the lock around his waist—almost painfully tight, but that didn’t matter to him, who’d get to pummel her soft pussy.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he planted his body against Minjeong’s, pinning her two thin wrists against the stable table.

“You’re fucking me so good, Junho,” Minjeong replied, her rare use of the curse made him chuckle by the side of her head. 

“That’s right, baby,” Junho bear-hugged Minjeong, only thrusting deeper and deeper, pelvis rubbing against hers, to make her cum again.

“NGHHH~!” The abrupt moan startled him and herself—however, they didn’t care as much about the employees anymore after indulging in each other’s bodies. Instead of stopping or evaluating the situation—as the rationalists would do—they dug deeper into each other, trying to carve each other with their soft and swollen lips.

Suddenly, he lifted Winter and turned her over. Bending her back against the table before dipping his cock into her pussy again. This time, the entrance was entranced with the soft, tight, wet feeling that he was fully obsessed with. This time, he had more ready access to her soft ass that was so soft and supple that he had to relieve it of its aesthetic beauty: with some redness spread across her ass.

“Oh my god!” Winter squeaked as she reacted against the heavy-handed slap against her ass, loving it, spreading—overflowing—his length with her slick.

Leaning over, he held Minjeong’s chin for the last stretch, considerably slowing down and enjoying each other’s presence.

“How much do you bet the coworkers will give us bad looks?”

“The female workers already give me horrible ones.” She said whilst her chin was held stable by his hand, still moaning against the soft thrusts.

“Hmm, broad generalization. How do you know this?”

“That hickey that you gave that was far too purple and far too above the collar of my blouse.”

“No long-necked turtleneck?”

“No, that’d ruin the point, I wanted to show off the gift my Junho-ssi gave.” That was the moment when he moaned hard, pressing deep inside Winter before releasing all his seed—the seed that Winter felt bounce against her cervix, making her moan out and squeal happily.

“God. Minjeong, you will be my demise.” He sighed before Winter turned around and kissed him, “as long as I get to stay with you, through demise and all,” she said between the kisses.

—

[10] The office furniture procurement department would later note an unusual request for "enhanced stability features" in executive seating, though they wisely chose not to inquire further.

[11] The building's environmental controls registered what could only be classified as "Critical Temperature Fluctuation - Executive Override Protocol Engaged."

—

Evening painted Seoul's skyline in shades of amber and gold, the office gradually emptying as another corporate day drew to a close. Only the executive floor maintained signs of life, though its usual efficiency had given way to something far more intimate[12].

"We should go home," Minjeong murmured against Junho's shoulder, though she made no move to leave her position in his lap. His shirt had long since been unbuttoned, her blouse delightfully rumpled, both their professional facades thoroughly compromised.

"Should we?" His fingers traced lazy patterns up her spine, his other hand still possessively curved around her hip. "I rather like having my secretary exactly where she is."

She lifted her head to meet his gaze, finding that unique blend of authority and affection that never failed to make her heart race. "Your secretary has plans for you."

"Oh?" His interest visibly peaked. "More performance reviews?"

"Better." She smiled, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I'm cooking you dinner. Besides, breakfast was skipped."

The surprise in his expression made her laugh softly. "You don't have to—"

"I want to," she interrupted, then added with deliberate sweetness, "Unless my CEO is refusing a direct offer from his girlfriend?"

His hands tightened on her waist. "Using that title to manipulate me now?"

"Is it working?" She bit her lip, watching his eyes darken at the gesture.

Instead of answering, he pulled her into a kiss that suggested dinner might be delayed[13]. When they finally broke apart, his smile carried dangerous promise. "Your place or mine?"

"Yours," she decided, fingers playing with his collar. "Your kitchen needs christening properly."

His laugh rumbled through both their bodies. "Just the kitchen?"

"We'll see how dinner goes," she teased, then squeaked as he stood suddenly, lifting her with him. "준호야!"

"Efficient time management," he explained, setting her on her feet but keeping her close. "The sooner we leave..."

She pressed against him, deliberate and knowing. "The sooner you can help me... cook?"

"Among other things," he agreed, already reaching for his jacket. The predatory grace in his movements suggested cooking might not be the evening's primary activity[14].

—

[12] Security logs would note this as the third consecutive evening of "Extended Executive Hours," though the actual nature of these extensions remained diplomatically unrecorded.

[13] The office's automated systems began learning to expect these end-of-day delays, adjusting power consumption accordingly.

[14] The kitchen's motion sensors would later flag unusually high activity levels, though whether any actual cooking occurred remained a matter of some debate.

Fin

I fixed some stuff that I executed poorly before, like the crazy amount of math references; which, in foresight, was far too much.

I really had to get this out quickly. Now, I think it's a good idea to not expect anything from me for an entire month (hopefully not).

hope u enjoyed.

[hannieehaee]

How about Joshua with a s/o who always wears baggy clothes and doesnt feel attractive because she doesnt wear revealing ones ?

If u want to write it pls do it only if u are ok with it and feel inspired ♡♡

content: bf!joshua, established relationship, some talk about insecurities, fluff, etc.

wc: 605

a/n: so sorry i took so long to write this!!

masterlist

"hey, babe, have you seen my shirt? you know, the grey one with the loose neck? i thought i- oh."

"huh? what was that?", you asked as you took out an earbud, turning to look at the boy who'd been trying to call your attention.

chuckling, he rounded the kitchen island to reach your side, hands practically attaching to your waist like magnets as he aided you in removing the other earbud, placing both on the counter next to you.

"i was just wondering where my band tee went, but i think i have my answer," he chuckled, pressing a sweet peck to your temple.

"oh, fuck. sorry, josh. do you want it? i can go change," you went to disconnect from him, but he wasnt having it, instead nuzzling his head on your shoulder.

"hm. it smells of my cologne still," he said almost to himself, "you don't have to take it off. i like you in my clothes," he reassured.

you could only scoff.

"your clothes are baggy on me. just like all my other clothes. what difference does it really make?"

joshua shrugged, "just like knowing you're wearing something of mine. you're style's cute. you're cute."

"flattery will get you everywhere, hong," you laughed.

it was one of those nice, domestic moments that occurred every so often. you basked in it, enjoying it before the two of you went back to your regular days.

it wasn't until later that you started to think about what you'd said to joshua earlier.

you did have a tendency to wear baggier clothes. hell, there really was no difference between wearing something of his and a piece of your own. it was incredibly rare for you to show skin or any sort of silhouette, and those instances were really reserved for nights too warm to handle in which you had to opt for some shorts and a tank top.

but even then, you went for looser ensembles. clothes that showed your figure were never really your forte.

you couldn't help but wonder if this ever bothered josh. would he have preferred if your style varied more? what if he thought of you as a prude? maybe he-

"what's got you thinking so loud?", the boy in question interrupted your inner turmoil.

you hadn't realized as you sat in front of your vanity, face wash in hand and still unused, that you'd frozen in place as you thought. his presence in the restroom hadn't registered until he spoke.

"just, uh," you pondered as to whether or not to voice your concerns, but his compassionate smile reflecting on the mirror made you decide, "i was thinking that maybe you'd like it better if i dressed differently? you know, maybe show more skin?"

you voiced it as a question, insecurities building in you as you sought a direct expression of his preferences.

"are you kidding? i like how you dress. and it's not really something that bothers me. you're comfortable and you're beautiful. it's a win-win situation for me," he kind of chuckled as he spoke, finding your question very sudden and unnecessary.

"oh."

you felt a bit dumb now.

"has this been worrying you? you know i'm like obsessed with you, right? you could wear a trash bag and i'd still be as obsessed," he joked, closing in on you similarly to how he'd done earlier in the day.

he finished his statement with a kiss pressed to your lips, humming when you kissed back.

"this just gives me free reign of your closet. i hope you know that," you jested.

"baby, i'm rich. take whatever you want."

[gangplanksorenji]

Clandestine

Pairing: NewJeans’ Danielle x Male Reader

Word Count: 6,000

A/N: Hello Orenjideul! This is probably the last fic I'll be writing and releasing this year because I'm getting occupied with my own endeavors. This is purely 97% a BFH fic because this Dani look is killing me.................. (god, that waist) Enjoy reading it! <3

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

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“Try and keep it secretive, please.”

Those words define what’s the goal—mouths shut, all within yourselves.

You’ve been living your life on the edge, playing with fire and Danielle is the gasoline that keeps igniting it and it piques you, delving for more. It’s scary, outrageous to the very least but in the greater perspective, it’s blissful and fun and that’s what matters at the end of the day.

Try, like what’s stated. It’s ultimately the goal and you’d revolve around that single word every damn time.

You have a reputation to protect, and it’s all in the means of Danielle because a single mistake can bear a scarring loss, because she has everything to lose and you’re to blame if it were to happen (the latter is speaking in hypothetical terms).

“Can’t wait, hm?” Your eyes gaze towards her, plastering a faint smile as you continue to pepper her neck with kisses that felt too euphoric on Danielle’s end.

“Ahh—how can I wait?” Her moans bless your ear, and you absolutely take that as an affirmative with her delight. She knows on herself that you’re insatiable and she hates it—temptation breaking as the both of you are speaking, and she’s feeling every ounce of your energy all over her skin.

Her hands roam around your body, feeling your kisses get herself acting up and writhing under your control. You turn, tilt her chin to face you and all you can see is a visage worth an awe. “You’re so goddamn pretty, Dani.”

These compliments just ignited the utter bliss she feels, lips curling into a smile of sincerity adding up to her impeccable beauty that no one can rival. You rest your nose onto her neck, then peppering it all over again as your hands handle her with care and the absolute ambition to let her know how much you adore her.

“You—you’re kissing me so, so good…” Danielle’s accent is candy to your ears, and you’re just replying with more intimacy. Her hands find the hem of your shirt, dexterous fingers lifting it as her primal instincts kick in until your hands hinders her advances.

Danielle whimpers, a hot breath brushing against your ear as you locked eyes onto hers. “Not yet, Dani.”

A visible pout by your sunshine, and immediately, you’re captivated but not enough to break the façade. “B-But why? Oh…”

Patience is what she needs, and as selfish as this sounds, your needs would be the priority for fulfillment.

Like what’s stated at the beginning  you’ve been living at the edge with her and thankfully, there’s no instance enough to bear such a result that would crumble a reputation. It’s just not helping where you’d be damned to live if ever Hanni catches you with such mess with Danielle and it’s doubled down with Minji—you’d be gone for good, that’s for sure, but Danielle has this hold against them that wouldn’t let you go and stick this risky relationship that could bear a scarring demise.

But who cares about that now? Not when her figure is all for your eyes to drool upon, in full display with her pants and that shirt curled into a crop top unleashing something within you—she looks unreal, sculpted to perfection as the outfit accentuates her undying hotness, a gift for you to admire and lastly, savor.

Your hands roam around that tiny waist of hers, abs flexing with your enervating touch that earns faint, sultry moans escaping her lips. You caress it and she continues her vocalization, ceaseless with your aims of adoring every inch.

“God, this fit—” Your power was evident, pulling her towards you as she gasped with your domination, and then smiled as she anticipated. “—is insane. I never thought you could be any hotter.”

It’s true, factual even, because numerous people would agree to you on how hot she looks with these kinds of fits. It does help knowing how she’s cognizant to push your buttons, and with just the tip of the iceberg, you melt and those eyes of yours tell a story.

“I knew you’d love this.” Danielle’s expressions smoulders a little, her face contorting confidence as she knows how she’s your kryptonite, and it’s mutual—even if it’s ego-driven, you can’t deny the fact that she’s alluring and you love her confidence because she knows she’s fucking hot.

You’ve seen multiple cases on the Internet, ever-so-liked within the people in various social media platforms sharing Danielle’s impeccable figure and the raises alongside it. You’re glad you’re in the first row of her show, always hitting and selfish because it’s all for you eyes to see—only you. Her fragrant smell hypnotizes you and it’s effective, luring you in and investing in more efforts into worshiping her. Kisses, suckles and licks is her threshold, currently shivering with the pleasure you give her as her ragged moans are enough for a conclusion. 

“God—please, stop…” You stop once she calls your name again, hoarse, feeling that she can’t possibly handle the way you’re treating her—you assume she’s more sensitive with you and nothing else. You’re visibly puzzled, lingering that assumption within you as you’re vocal enough to address her sudden words to feed off against her needs.

“Anything wrong, Dani?”

“I—” Her lips are quivering, hands fiddling the hem of her shirt as her doe eyes invite you to listen, and you're all ears for that. “—want this.”

You know where she’s going with this as her hands run down to your pants and near the vicinity of your nether regions and god, her fingers alone would make your beast stand up in vigor. Your hands hold hers, guiding her through the zipper as your other hand finds its way onto the valet of her curves, teasing the skin of her spine that’s enough to make her release a dulcet moan towards your lips. “How do you want it, hm?”

Your voice is alluring, predominantly teasing as the last hm signifies your interest. Danielle just moans with your repeated touches, and she’s barely coherent and mostly mumbling, what more if you're going a level further? “Can’t quite hear you, baby.”

You’re now pinning her against the wall, you weight pressing against her slightly as you eyes then face her and begged, “Just kiss me first, please.”

That please of hers was so lovely and sincere you can’t afford to lose this opportunity. You were surprised with Danielle’s initiative, cupping your cheeks as she pulled you in for a kiss and you quickly reciprocated. The sloppy sounds and the sultry moans escaping your lips signals the deprivation, and it’s all fulfilling every second that passes.

Her lips are soft and you won’t get exhausted kissing those all day, even if it means your own lips to be numb. It’s sweet and hers is torrid, the exchange heating up the permeated humidity she exuded just by herself and she’s just igniting it all throughout.

“Kissing me so good, Dani…”

“Can’t blame that you taste great.” Danielle spits the truth, her lips curling up on a smirk as she bites her lip, currently in this state of need and her face alone just lit the fire inside your heart. “Now I need this.”

She cups the apparent bulge, visibly poking onto the fabric of your pants as her daring advancements makes you utter a faint moan in which she chuckled, a victory in her possession.

“Getting too bold, are we?” It’s straightforward and lustful, and definitely, you like it. 

You’re not going to introduce the necessities for foreplay and more, and with the lust growing inside you that’s matching hers, you’ll let her do what she’s great at and with a single command, reply with immediate compliance. “Drop down to your knees, baby.”

It felt like her knees faltered, dropping down with a thud onto the cold floor as her hands then found its way onto the edge of your pants, tugging them and licking her lips in anticipation. Now loosened up, she pulls them down and lets gravity do the work, making a puddle of your clothing onto your ankles. She’ll steal glances towards you while working her wonders, and the contradicting natures of the sight just below your waist sends you into overdrive—her gleeful yet seductive smile covers up to the sins that he’s about to do, and it’s aligning all too well.

“God, I’ve never done this for a while…” Danielle’s tone permeates that self-doubt since it’s factual, marking maybe months until she’d indulged herself into something like this and it doesn’t help with the group’s busy schedules and everything that’s making their time occupied prior to this.

You tilt her head, facing towards you as her eyes meet yours, and you reassure her. “You’re a natural, Dani—besides, just let yourself be what you are.”

Let herself be, and ultimately, she knows that it’s always what she is in situations like this. Letting the doubt aside and her hunger to take over, she impatiently yanked your boxers down, joining it onto the puddle of worthless clothing down to your ankles. Danielle’s eyes glimmer with that lingering captivation as soon as the beat inside you unshackles from its clothed prison, almost hitting her in the face as it stands tall and stiff, waiting for her touch to enchant it.

She coos, hot breath within that reddish crown and you moan because of it. “Still a-as monstrous as I remembered.”

The teases probably get into you (even though her tone laces with sincerity), uttering a laugh as her lips part, a pout on display, gently kissing the leaking slit and her hands roaming around your base and onto those balls she always loves to taste. Of course, the sunshine descends down into the darkest sins, carnally worshiping your cock with an eager suck to collect that liquid you’re leaking and the profound spit that she lathers all around your length. You doesn’t leave any inch untouched with her lips and sheathed with her saliva, as her attention averts down to your balls and plays with it, her hands pumping you with a leisure pace that’s enough to wring that pleasure you’re always seeking.

“Looking great so far?” Your legs are probably viable to give out, knees shuddering as her touch sends you into the abyss of gratification. She knows the answer to such a rhetorical question, living up with the compliment you withdrew earlier and it’s factual, she's naturally skilled. “You know the answer to that, Dani—fuck…”

She replies with her tongue now dancing around your throbbing cock, her snug mouth encapsulating half of your length as she eagerly bobbed, up and down, and no stopping. Your hand finds its way onto her messy bun, tied upright with a clip and you could just let yourself feel every ounce of pleasure being brought by Danielle. 

It was hurried, ephemerally increasing the pace as her mouth gets messier, her own saliva seeping out of her mouth supports the fact. You kept moaning and it invigorates her for more, until she knows she;s approaching her limit.

She gagged and immediately pulled out, and your mouth just showered her with compliments and those eyes of her shine with your approval. “You’re incredibly gifted, god…”

“Can’t help it tastes really, really good, daddy.” The name, the word, god, she knows what buttons to push against you. 

She always does, in most cases and you’re here to indulge with the fact that she’s controlling you slowly. You would give in to her dominant nature against your cock but here, you still stand and it’s contradicting—you’re nowhere near being precarious, and you’ll take that heavenly mouth of her anyday (like you would resist it).

She voiced out your insatiability, impaling her mouth with your own length and bobbed frantically, her immediate actions sending your sensitivity onto the roof and so is the pleasure. She treats your succulence like it’s her favorite popsicle, sucking onto every inch of it and savoring the flavor that’s probably inviting her more roughness and you could feel it.

“God, Dani—shit!” You’re unable to utter coherent sentences as you’re involuntarily shouting out the pleasure she brings, and you could look down and see that smile printed onto her lips, even with a mouthful of your length. You caress her cheeks, run your fingers through her dark-colored locks that’s messy enough to compliment the disarray of her doings. 

Here it comes, those eyes of hers locking onto yours, so innocently-looking with the scintillations telling a story full of her wonders and with those very eyes of hers, you’re hypnotized. Her pace never falters, almost pumping her head and kissing your base everytime she buries her throat full of your length, and it almost makes your foundations meet its crumbling outcomes. Her gags are apparent, jerking her head onto you but she fights, because she wants to deliver the utmost pleasure you deserve and with that determination, you’re absolutely going to reward her.

The inevitable is bound to happen, as she ejects onto your saliva-sheathed length, strings of her drool connecting onto her lips and your tip, marking her shirt and soaking so little of it and she catches her breath, chest heaving with what she’d done. “G-God—oh, I—”

“Hey—you did fucking amazing, holy shit…” You’re vulgar and bold, and she doesn’t mind it because it’s mutual when you did your own oral expertise onto her—possibly no one heard her swear so much as ever before whenever you eat her out, and it’s a concealing fact that’s only exclusive between the both of you.

Her lips, swollen and pink, shiver with the sin she has done but she never regretted it, and instantly becomes gleeful once your praise is registered within her. “All for you, daddy.”

Of course it is, and she was giving her hundred percent with every second of this opportunity. There’s still a soft heart within you, consulting her as your eyebrows furrowed, subtly worried. “Are you okay, though?”

“Hah… yes, daddy—I just want more of this cock.” She’s a little exasperated from such an impressive act she’d done to you, and her smiles reassures you and with the eagerness of her livid strokes says a lot. 

Danielle holds onto your rod with a vice grip, tight enough for more moans to escape your lips as her lips find its way onto your tip, lapping up the scrumptious taste that she’s addicted to. It was evident, utterly in need for you as she didn’t build up a pace slowly for yourself to get used to, and did the opposite. The pace counts for your release, and it’s evident with the way she’s doing everything in her power to inch you closer to her deserved reward. She takes more than half of you and fondled your balls, earning the sultriest and knee-shuddering moans that urges her for more.

You avert your eyes down, and she’s occupied with your cock, hammering her mouth with it and hollowing her cheeks whenever she feels wringing out the best gratification she can muster. She’s closing her eyes, feeling every inch of you until the back of her throat, gags following and you persistently throbbed in reply with that. She tames it and you admire it, fighting the urge to release her vice grip around your length.

Your eyes then drool all over her impeccable figure, even when she’s down onto her knees—the perfectly sculpted curves of her waist to her hips while her head fades onto the sight with a bobbing blur just ignites the thought of ruining her.

You're lost under her spell, and you wanted to see those beautiful eyes of hers, as she does what she’s best at. Lifting her chin up with your index finger, you gulp and give in to your desires. “Look at me when you're sucking me off, Dani.”

She obliges as she meets your gaze, your face contorting slightly with the pleasure as her ruined visage is enough to know how much she’s enjoying it.

It’s the same cacophonous sounds that deafens your ear with, the same music you won’t get tired of listening if it means to make Danielle feel the delight she always deserves—the concoction of slurps, gags and sloppy sounds are the things at the tip of the iceberg.

Her pace increases, and now, your hands find her hair again as an outlet against the ultimate pleasure she brings, drilling into her mouth deeper without your awareness, balls slapping against her chin due to her breakneck pace. You would want to prolong the dopamine rush within your veins, but the curtain calls out to a painful denouement tha would conclude the first part of an exquisite show she’s laid upon between your legs.

The throbs are persistent, and she doesn’t have a plan to pull out and you have your own desires that’s ready to be fulfilled.

“I’m close—c-can’t hold it anymore—” You gulp right after, breaths uneven as the both of you are just savoring every second, eyes closed and yearning for more. You assess every pump her mouth does, how tight and pleasurable it is and you can’t absolutely hold it anymore until something disturbed the force of things.

A loud pop is what you’ve heard, and you can just see Danielle stroking your messy length with the fastest velocity her wrists can muster, and it just earned more moans from you. “I’ve always wanted to do this, daddy…”

You know where this is going, lips curling up a smirk and pretending to be oblivious. “Do what, exactly?”

You can feel the familiar tingle within your groin, and it’s only a matter of seconds before the inevitable paints her white. “Add up to the mess I made myself, daddy.”

“Open wide, Dani.” She does as she's told to, releasing the grip that almost strangled your length and did it yourself. 

That sullied countenance of hers is a sight to cherish, savor every second and every detail on how messy and beautiful she has become as everything concludes down to the most important act. 

You groan and point it where it belongs, a pretty canvas painted white as every inch is possibly covered with how thick your load is. Every spurt hits the features where everyone leaves with an awe, living up to the words she let go of and you did just that. Nose, cheeks, forehead, mouth and even her neck—it’s incredibly lucky how none of your load got up to her clothing, possibly writing the script of just ruining what’s just worth defiling.

If these walls could just talk, you hope they wouldn’t say anything because you will be damned if anyone catches the both of you doing such unforgiving sin.

Her lips quiver, still kneeling down as she grips your stiff cock, stroking it leisurely and then inviting you with a gleeful smile that possibly refutes the sinful sight, faking the convincing innocence. 

Those eyes of her pleads, and there her dulcet voice goes and you know you can’t turn her requests down. “May I clean your cock, daddy?”

You cup her cheek, maintaining that eye contact as your fingers trace the cum you left onto her, and then directing it onto those soft, kissable lips of hers that’s known for an abundance of talents. It was agonizing with the way you trace her features, and she suckles onto your fingers needily like she hasn't sucked the life out of you just a minute ago. She closes her eyes, relishing and humming in satisfaction with the taste she’s longing to lay her taste buds on.

You pulled out and earned a whine, and then replied with a jovial approach. “No one’s stopping you.”

No one is, and not even herself. 

Her lips parts against your engorged tip, tongue swirling around it and tidying up the mess she made. It’s sensitive and it’s the guilty pleasure—it’s slightly making you turn on even more, pushing your limits and as well as the buttons for your lust. 

“You’re fucking gifted, Dani.”

It’s these small admirations of her actions that urges her to complacency, but giving everything that she got up her sleeve. Her mouth swirls around and it and eventually, she pulls out and stares at you, reeking that anticipation that lingering within her because she knows you’re not done with her.

Once she pulls out, she remains on her knees, and you take the opportunity to scoop out the cum that stained her heavenly-sinful face, directing it onto her mouth and cleans it repeatedly. It’s nearly cleaned up, but nowhere near the finish line as the both of you are just getting started, and you’re vocalizing your frustrations evidently yet nowhere near hostile.

“Get up, Dani.” She obliges with your command, your feet kicking the clothing and deeming it useful and the sunshine that gleams innocence brews a storm, and you know she’s ready for phase two.

“Dying to be balls deep inside me, daddy?” Of course you fucking are, and she’s just asking that to rile you up and it’s effective, cock twitching up in the air as soon as she let go of such sinful words.

She knows you, and it’s just making things worse in the right ways.

Danielle’s face is just inches away from you, and you’re just dying to get that feeling of her utter tightness. You grew impatient, controlling her lithe frame with a grab on her waist, and let herself face the wall and her arms resting on it as well. She gasps with your roughness towards her, chuckling a little as she wants this kind of treatment and she deserves it. A wiggle of her petite ass invites you to just undress her bottom half, but you would admire the hourglass figure she possesses, every inch of her curves urging you to defile the living life out of her.

You deeply adore her with all your heart, unable to hurt her but whenever she invites you to be one, you wouldn’t waste the opportunity and give in to your carnal desires.

Your hands roam to her clothed butt, feeling the softness of it and how it’s perfectly sculpted and all too right. Unable to deprive yourself of such a sight, you wrap your arms around her hips, undressing her pants and unshackling her heating slit and there it goes, all for you to feast upon.

“You promised to be rough, right, daddy?” She looks over her shoulder, tone laced with high expectations as a moans follows, feeling the cold air brush against her skin. 

“If that’s what you wanted—” The restraint is now onto her ankles, then off to somewhere in the vicinity. Your eyes meeting the last bit that conceals your grand prize, but it didn’t come without a reverberating sound that earned the sexiest moans Danielle could muster. “—I’m not thinking a single thought of giving you mercy.”

Fuck, she unleashed the monster within you, and it’s all for her to take.

It wasn’t just one, but a barrage of slaps onto her petite ass, making her writhe a little and her arms shaking with the pain and pleasure you’re treating her. You mark it red, imprinted with your hands before stopping and she whines, knowing the best is yet to be introduced. 

It was another moan that escaped her lips, and with the last bit of defense down and destined to be useless, you know she’s up for a show.

“Da—oh god, daddy!” Danielle whimpers once she feels you, going deeper and earning more moans that made her body shudder with the gratification. You plunge not too deep inside her, and immediately, you are met with an overwhelming tightness that puts you in the same boat as hers in correlation with the profanities you both voice out. You grab her hips and her waist, drawing herself closer to you as she’s barely standing on her ground with your control, and you’re just within the tip of the iceberg in terms of your pace.

You give herself a breathing space, but Danielle’s plans weren't in accordance with yours, her voice coarse yet still, surprisingly sweet that urges you for more.

“More, daddy—f-fuck me harder!” Your hips increase your velocity, the initial speed of it sending her thighs in a recoil with your harshness, drilling deeper and withdrawing repeatedly that’s enough to fuck her up, senseless. Somehow, she’s even coherent to articulate words, urging you for more and yearning for you to go deeper.

“Fuck—oh my fucking god, more—aw!”

“God, you’re just so tight, aren’t you, hm?” You’re pumping her like you’re marking up your dominance against her, and it’s fulfilled, now filling her up to the brim. You marvel with her unparalleled tightness, hugging your length like it’s suffocating it and repeatedly groaning because of it. With her repetitive pleas, comes resonating spanks that just makes her leak more of that nectar, creating that wetness that runs down in rivulets on her thighs. She’s creating puddles down onto the floor due to your own rough endeavors into her pussy, legs shaking and rippling in every thrust you do that sends her into overdrive.

You’d bet she’s seeing stars right now, the reason is stated as follows: withdrawing with just the crown inside and then slamming back into her, balls deep, just right for her to delve down onto lustful, high-pitched screams that voices the overwhelming pleasure running down her veins.

This is not great, and with a harsh spank, you retort at her and make sure she’s unable to do it again. “Quiet down, Dani—you’re gonna get us in trouble.”

If it’s ever the case, then the both of you probably are. The suspicious noises are just enough for someone outside to check out what’s with the pandemonium of noises that’s just getting too familiar. You didn’t care, to the very least, continuously pounding her tight cunt and dismissing the fact about the risky unveiling of the truth.

Danielles muffled her screams with a bite on her shirt, shutting herself up and that alone makes you ignite the carnal beast within you, testing how much she can bear.

Her legs are possibly wobbling, getting weaker with how rough you are treating her as every clash of your bodies results in an addition to the symphony of moans, an ocean worth swimming in if it means your ears to get blessed.

You surely are, and you’re at the top of the world because of it. 

“God—this pussy—” You groan, spanking her and then lean on to kiss her neck, your tongue nibbling onto the pristine, milky skin as your weight gives her reasons to be dangerously precarious. “—is just phenomenal. This will always be mine.”

You marked up your territory, and Danielle knows who owns her heat, and it’s up for you to ignite it. The kiss was ephemeral, hurting her because she wanted to feel your lips longer against her neck but she’s just grateful that you’re still ruining and impaling her up to the hilt with your length. Your hands run its way back to her hips, and immediately continue with a consistent pace that inches her closer to her own high.

With the way she’s leaking like a faucet around your rapid length, you know it wouldn’t be long until she reaches euphoria.

“C-Close, daddy—so fucking close—you’re fucking m-me so, so good!” Danielle’s clearly enjoying this, and with her compliments comes your own fulfilling reply. You kept fucking her cunt like it’s going to be your last, every thrusts your hips muster clashes against her skin that accentuates roughness. 

“Please d-don’t stop fucking me—please, please!” She’s lost in the blissful trance, lust and desperation taking over as gone is her innocent image, truly in the depth and unable to go back up. You did what she pleaded as her juices coats your length in all angles, even adding up onto the puddle onto the floor and wetting down her thighs. Her knees shake, arms flailing with the impact her orgasm brings her, but you didn’t stop and fucked her through it, being in the same boat as hers—lost in the trance.

Her walls clench around you and it earns that primal roar out of you, her tightness aiding to the pleasure you’re also experiencing. You’re just cognizant with the fact that her expression probably concludes into the epitome of ecstasy, and all-throughout cockdrunked with your own reckoning. Wanting another angle to savor how her walls feel, you pull out of her and she immediately whines, asking why would you do such a thing.

“No, d-daddy—no, please, put it b-bcack in—”

“I will.” You grab her wrists and her hips, turning her around to face you and given her small figure, it wasn’t a challenge to control her. “I just wanna see your beautiful face while I ruin you again—make you cum again.”

With your strength, you squat down to inch your arms under her thighs, and immediately lifted her like it’s nothing, and with her swift recovery, her senses became aware and directed your throbbing cock inside her tightness again. She yelps and involuntarily holds onto your arms and neck, supporting her frame and continues to stare at your eyes, glistening with lust.

Her back is pressed against the wall as you thrust upwards, not even starting off slow and introducing a harsh pace, like what she wanted all along. “God, I could fuck you like this all day, Dani—god, you’re hot.”

With the way her abs flex in every thrust you do steals your attention towards it. Maybe her workouts at the gym are worth something more than what she always loves to do, and you admire how toned and perfect it is in every angle. Her supple frame and her flexible legs makes it easier to drill deeper into her cunt, uttering the sultriest and hottest moans by Danielle. With this profound angle, you’re in total domination all over her, controlling her as she gives in to you, trusting you on how you’ll ruin her with care. 

“God, daddy—you’re fucking me way too good!” It’s just the deepest primal instincts within her that’s commending the way you’re treating her, and you love every word laced within it. You continue to hammer her upwards, feeling her tightness enveloping you again as her hands find a leverage to hold on but are unsuccessful knowing it’s just a wall behind her. 

Your lips then smashes against hers, wanting to increase the libido within you as the clash is something lingering with need and hunger. Both of your lips add up to the erotic soundtrack that’s composed out of spite, filling and permeating the room with the sounds of sex and nothing more. 

You’re not going to lie, the shirt that accentuated her figure is just the perfect example of a nuisance, and Danielle hurriedly undresses it, revealing those perky tits with a white bra clasped around it. She’s just too hot to bear, and a perfect candidate to be ruined and you’re proving why she lives up to that position. She threw the shirt onto the bed beside, and continued to rest her arms onto your shoulders, then resumed her moans as it became erratic once you suckled onto her neck, inhaling the scent that you always love.

“I can’t believe h-how much of slut you are for my cock, honestly.” Even if she retaliates for a reason, she can’t deny the truth as your length turns her into a new person, consumed with lust and following you like a leash. She can’t utter a response, not when she’s being pounded into oblivion and another high inching closer towards her.

“I can’t daddy—too good! Too good!!” Her exclamations are the voices of her lustful nature, she’s possibly built just to say the same sets of words once you’ve plunged everything inside her. The cluster of the same moans and pleas escapes her lips, and you know she’s set for another blissful  climax and it’s all thanks to you.

Maybe the walls weren’t so opaque to shackle what’s behind, unveiling the secretive assault towards Danielle and you didn’t care—you’re chasing towards the promised land, to set foot there and get lost within that hill.

“Gonna cum, da—” She’s cut, and then, she releases.

Nectar seeps out to the edge of the crevices, forming rivulets and spasms that’s felt in her body, magnitudes unlocking new heights of delight as you fuck her through it, knowing your hopping onto the same boat as hers.

All things are destined to an end, and you want a conclusion worthy to paint something remarkable for the both of you.

“Outside, p-please—cum for me, daddy—” You’re still carrying her while the pleas register within you, burying your shaft and immobilizing your thrusts while coursing your way towards the bed. You throw her, not enough to hurt her but enough to hear an audible thud as you pull out, and eyeing her figure with such hunger that fueled you for another release.

“I’m gonna fucking paint that tight waist of yours, Dani.” You stroke your cock with a breakneck pace, an identical event like earlier as she invites you, her tone crumbling down your walls and building up another reward you’re eager to give.

“Then paint it, daddy—ruin me.” It’s simple yet so hot that you can’t fathom how she’s able to choose words that could fuck up the way you’re thinking. She’s embracing the eventual rain of another hot load, closing her eyes and you could count to five and not make it past three—

Then, it comes.

You aim towards her slim waist, showering the abs with numerous spurts that can rival your first one, multiple shots earning moans from your lips due to how euphoric she made you. You lick your lips, hands wringing out the pleasure and prolonging and eventually, it subsides down for you to admire the fruits of your labor—a work specifically painted meticulously, done and worked on a canvas that’s sprayed white.

Her chest heaves up and down due to the exasperating session and roughness you bestowed, but looking into her eyes, there’s no glint of regret and just grateful you’re able to show who you really are.

“God, you fucked me so well, daddy…”

Your breaths are ragged, your cock getting flaccid as Danielle still has the power to stand on her wobbly legs, your cum running down her porcelain skin and her hands finding its way onto your beast, still urging for something more.

“All for—argh—you, Dani—all for you, god…” The sensitivity skyrockets, but it doesn’t matter, not when you’re finding her lips again, exchanging torrid and intimate kisses.

As you’re about to find your way onto the fine plane of her spine, and towards her ass, a heavy set of knocks baffles the both of you, and it’s fucked up 

“Dani, why are you taking so long right there? Hello, are you there with him? What are the both of you doing??” It’s a familiar voice and your senses are heightened, and with an anxious look, Danielle reassures you and shouted words that would possibly assure the girl that everything’s fine.

“Hanni’s gonna kill me, Dani—”

“Shhh…” Her fingers meet your lips, muting you for more advances that won’t help the situation. You help her clean up with the tissue that’s on her desk and hurriedly dress yourselves up, looking presentable as much as possible. “It’s fine—nothing’s going the wrong way, daddy.”

You’re living your life on the edge, and you would be damned for dear life if Hanni unveils the truth yet Danielle’s golden personality outshines that and it’s only a matter of time before she puts those onto the test.

You can end up on both roads of besmirchment, that expected disappointment from Hanni or a surprising turn of acceptance but one thing’s for sure: you achieved what the both of you wanted, and that concludes up onto a triumphant note, all wins and no losses.

[starmocha]

to: my true love [Sylus/Reader ★ 1680 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Sylus receives a special surprise in his study. A/N: The Sagittarius in me told me to do something impulsive again, and I lowkey already regret it lol So…a mini series of twelve days of Christmas/winter-themed standalone ficlets with all four LIs (3 mini stories for each; no Caleb, sorry, I want to wait until I’m more familiar with his character before I write him). This lowkey may be me trying to find joy in Christmas again lol ヾ(✿˶◡‿◡)ゞ Tag list: @miudle @alfredosaws @nezukoo-channn @voidsylus @rose-tinted-kalopsia 【 request to be added 】

You were going to kill Luke and Kieran, you decided decisively, as you stood outside Sylus’ study, your hand wrapped around the doorknob, trembling uncontrollably and filled with anxiety worse than any other instances in your life.

A bet was a bet.

And you lost.

Tremendously.

They must have cheated, you thought, positive that those no-good tricksters definitely rigged the card game. Of course, you knew you were also a complete dumbass for ever having faith that residents of the N109 Zone would ever play fair in anything.

You were still going to kill them.

Knock-knock.

Your fragile heart practically burst out of your chest when you heard the knocking. Immediately, your head whipped up, completely mortified to see Luke looming over you and cheerfully rapping against the door with the back of his hand while you were silently fuming just seconds ago. Even though he was wearing his mask, you were positive he was sporting the most nefarious smirk ever.

“Come in,” Sylus’ calm, deep voice called out.

You gasped, feeling a hand over yours. You looked to your other side just as Kieran ‘helped’ you opened the door, and before you knew it, both twins gleefully shoved you into Sylus’ study before slamming the door shut. You stumbled forward, barely catching your balance before you realized what had happened.

“Who is it—”

Sylus looked up and paused. His expression didn’t appear to change, staying neutral just as always, but perhaps someone with a keener eyesight would notice the gleam of intrigue in his scarlet eyes the moment he had laid his sight on you.

You kept your eyes lowered as you stood in Sylus’ study, dressed in a bright red sleeveless Christmas dress with white fur trimming that lined around the bottom of the skirt and over your bust. Around your middle was a thick black belt and atop your head was a matching Santa Claus hat, its end dangling over your downcast face. You stared down at the black knee-high boots you wore, feeling completely mortified. You could practically feel your soul leaving your body as you felt Sylus’ intense stare on you.

“J-Jinglegram,” you greeted meekly.

You flinched when you heard Sylus’ amused chuckles.

“I-I see,” he responded, a hint of bafflement heard in his tone, but overall, he seemed delighted.

You, on the other hand, wanted to die. Preferably instantly.

Sylus cleared his throat, his voice sounding extra cordial than normal. “So…what is a ‘jinglegram’?”

You whimpered pathetically, nearly glowering when you could have sworn you heard the bastard twins snickering outside the room. Clearing your throat, you started to sing very stiffy: “On…the first day of…Christmas…my true love gave to me…”

You peeked up and you felt your face had instantly turned crimson. Sylus was leaning against the armrest of his chair, his fist held over his mouth as if he was stifling his laughter, but his eyes betrayed his amusement. They were practically sparkling with delight.

“…a partridge in a pear tree…” you finished glumly.

He clapped, seemingly encouraging you to continue. You felt a horrendous knot in your stomach, but you soldiered on.

“On the second day of Christmas…my true love—”

You fumbled, catching Sylus’ eyes brightening even more as you sang this one particular verse.

“…gave to me, two turtle doves,” Sylus helped you with his unique singing voice.

“…And a partridge in a pear tree,” you both finished together in a cacophony of mismatched notes and melody.

You winced, unsure if it was because of how mortified you were, or of how the lack of harmony between the two of you could easily be used as a form of torture. Not caring to find out, you quickly whirled around, intending on bolting right out of Sylus’ study and seeking a hole you could throw yourself into and just die in peace.

But Sylus had other plans.

“Not so fast, Miss Hunter.”

Dark red and black misty tendrils coiled around your waist and lifted you into the air with ease. You squeaked in shock as you were carried across the room and before you knew it, you landed with an undignified “oof” in Sylus’ lap.

Your hat fell, covering your eyes, but before you could react, Sylus had already helped you readjusted it. You looked up timidly, seeing his face full of joy. The way he was laughing and smiling almost reminded you of the night he and you had set free that little white dove he had cared for.

“So cute,” he murmured, almost as if he was speaking to himself, and you blushed. His thumb glided over your shiny red-glossed plump lips, admiring the way they trembled, almost as if they were beckoning him to steal a kiss or two, but he restrained himself. He continued in his soft, steady tone, “What have I done to receive this charming…‘jinglegram’?”

“Um…nothing…” you mumbled, feeling the heat spreading from your cheeks to the rest of your body. You squirmed a little, but Sylus held you firmly in place, not allowing you to leave his lap for even an inch. You looked down, seeing how one of his hands was absently caressing your thigh. You continued miserably, “…I lost a bet.”

“A bet?”

“To Luke and Kieran.”

“Ah.” Everything seemed to click into place, and Sylus leaned forward, burying his face into your hair as he laughed. “Perhaps I should give those two a Christmas bonus…”

You frowned. Pulling away, you turned to look at him, your faces just mere inches apart. “Do criminal organizations do Christmas bonuses?”

Sylus shook his head. “Of course not, sweetie,” he answered, “But…I think this warrant some sort of…rewards for them.”

“Rewards? For humiliating me?” you demanded, irate.

You gasped as Sylus lifted your chin lightly and kissed you deeply, his earlier self-control forgotten. He chuckled when you unconsciously gave in, returning his kiss with equal passion. He parted, but he pecked another kiss to your cheek. “Are you humiliated? But you look absolutely adorable in this outfit.”

Your face felt hotter. “You’re enjoying this way too much,” you griped.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed in agreement, unashamed. “Now…isn’t…‘Mrs. Claus’ here missing a ‘Mr. Claus’?”

Your stomach lurched at the implications in his teasing words. You covered your face with both hands. “No…no…no…we are not doing this!”

You felt the hat on your head yanked off. You looked up and saw Sylus had donned the hat he had just swiped from you. Plastered across his stupidly handsome face was the most insufferable smirk ever. He was completely enthralled by this entire ludicrous situation. You were definitely going to kill Luke and Kieran.

“Now if I recall,” he began, his tone light and playful, “the song is far from over. We still have quite a few verses to get through, don’t we, sweetie?”

You gaped, not quite registering his words just now.

He…looked really good with this hat on his head. Very cute. Very, very cute.

Maybe with a matching bright red coat that would be fitted to his deliciously toned body, and a pair of pants that would highlight his juicy ass, he could pull off that look. Would...would Sylus be willing to have a bit of a stubble, you wondered, already imagining him with one, and his face nuzzling against you, feeling the prickly hair against your smooth, soft skin, and oh shit—

You were doing a horrendous job of hiding your feelings today, because Sylus immediately noticed your reaction, his teasing growing increasingly merciless.

“Now, sweetie, have you been a… ‘good girl’ this year?”

You flustered. “What are you—”

“Since you’re already sitting on my lap,” he said suggestively, “don’t you want to tell… ‘Santa’ what you want for this year?”

“You are such a prick.”

Sylus laughed. “Naughty, naughty,” he chided, giving your thigh a light smack and making you yelped in surprise.

“We are not doing this, Sylus!” you protested, face redder than your dress.

He shrugged and leaned back in his seat with a defeated sigh. “Very well,” he conceded, a hint of disappointment heard in his tone. He smiled at you half-heartedly before speaking, “You really are a good girl, aren’t you, Miss Hunter?”

You knew he had meant it genuinely this time, but you couldn’t help but felt something when he had called you a ‘good girl’. This was getting out of hand. Was this what those no-good twins wanted to happen? For you to be down bad for their boss. What on earth was their endgame—

Sylus was humming the earlier Christmas song again, the sound cutting your raving thoughts to a grinding halt. He smiled at you pleasantly, apparently unaware of your inner turmoil.

“On the third day of Christmas,” he ‘sang,’ his jovial tone hinting for you to join him. There was a noticeable pause, and Sylus gave you a gentle nod, silently encouraging you to pick up where he had left off.

You smiled helplessly, his genuine happiness spreading to you. “…my true love gave to me,” you continued.

“Three French hens / Two turtle doves,” you both sang together, half-laughing, before finishing strongly, “And a partridge in a pear tree!”

You slumped against him, giggling and forgetting your earlier embarrassment. Sylus’ arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to his body, the familiar, comforting warmth calming you instantly. You gazed up at him, an idea forming in your head.

“Sylus?”

“Hmm?” He peered down at you, his eyes meeting yours, and his smile soft and sweet.

“We should give the twins a fruitcake,” you said, smiling wickedly, elaborating, “For their ‘Christmas reward’.”

“Two fruitcakes,” he corrected you with a knowing smirk, “One for each mischievous twin.”

You leaned up and kissed him, “Ah, my ‘true love’ is correct.”

He stifled a chuckle, his face buried in your hair again, as he husked, “Then are you my Christmas present for this year?”

“I’m yours for always.”

“How cute,” he whispered, tightening his hold on you, and you stayed like that, humming the rest of the song softly as you enjoyed each other’s presence.

[incomplete-leclerc]

　𝗣𝗢𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗘 𝗖𝗔𝗧, 𝗦𝗟𝗘𝗘𝗣𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗧.　oscar piastri · #81

　　　your boyfriend loves to take naps, and occasionally, you decide to join him.

genres : fluff ... established relationship.　word count : 0.7k.　warnings : none.　 note : my first official f1 fic!! super excited but also nervous to be posting this :') it's the start of a new era <3　　　( masterlist )　( taglist )

Oscar took the chance to nap whenever he could. The constant jetlag messed up his sleep schedule throughout the entire season, so when his body felt tired and there was even 5 minutes to spare, he would take the chance. Lando, not missing any opportunity to tease him about something, said it was because he was still going through growth spurts at twenty-three. 

Given your boyfriend’s habit and love for sleep, you often arrived to see him completely knocked out, whether in the garage, hotel room, or at home. It was endearing, and you had your own way of finding enjoyment in his habit. For instance, your camera roll was overflowing with sleepy Oscar pics; excellent blackmail material if you ever needed it, but most often, you just looked at them whenever you missed him. But your favourite part of it all was waking him up.

Tousling his hair, poking his cheek, booping his nose, kissing his forehead or lips— your methods were practically endless. A lovesick smile was permanently stuck on your face whenever you heard the groggy mumbles he let out as he woke up or saw his scrunched up face at the feeling of your touch. There was a certain charm to all his clumsy, loserish habits, contrasting so starkly with his confidence on track. There were many sides to Oscar, and you had fallen in love with all of them over the years.

It was around 2PM when you opened the door to your apartment, grocery bags in hand. It had been a day full of miscellaneous errands that you had kept putting off, one of which was stocking up on Oscar’s favourite snacks. Now that the 2024 season was finished and he was back home with you— yours for the next four months— you wanted to cook him some of his favourite meals. You had expected to see Oscar in the kitchen or living room, as he usually was. But the house was unusually quiet as you put away food in the fridge. Though, one look into your bedroom told you where he had been hiding.

After knowing Oscar since you were teenagers, it was unsurprising to you when you found him fast asleep on your bed, hugging your pillow to his chest. You smiled at the sight, figuring he must still be struggling to adjust back to the timezone. With you gone first thing in the morning, there wasn’t anything to keep him awake, either. It was no secret that Oscar was the clingier of you two (quite a problem when it came to races conflicting with your schedule), and for all the hoodies and shirts of his that you stole, he liked your pillows. 

The mere sight of your boyfriend comfortably cosied under the blankets on the bed had you starting to feel drowsy yourself. You hesitated for a second about whether to wake him up, join him, or leave him entirely and drink another cup of coffee to get through the day. But you realized quickly that more than anything, you missed his touch the last couple days. Cuddles to sleep was all you craved for. So with all hesitation gone, you climbed up on the bed, easily slipping your arms around Oscar’s waist, hugging his back. The movement was enough to wake him, and he blinked, slightly dazed as he turned around in your arms. 

“You’re back,” he mumbled, words barely above a whisper before he closed his eyes again like a cat squinting in the sun. You giggled, adjusting the pillows as Oscar nuzzled closer to you. “You smell nice… did you get a new perfume?” 

You smiled, closing your eyes as well as Oscar wrapped his arms around your waist and your hands found their way to his hair. “I did. It’s peach. You like it?” He hummed in confirmation. “Still jet lagged?”

A gentle squeeze from Oscar was all the answer you got, but it was all you needed to understand. With the scent of your perfume, your hands threading through his hair, and a soft kiss pressed to his lips, he was already falling back into his dreamland. You soon followed, wrapped in his arms; close, content, and comfortable.