#something ventured someone framed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wandaslovey · 3 months ago

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ᴀ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ; ᴀ ᴋɪɴᴋʏ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴋɴᴇᴡ

➺ dom!wandanat x sub!fem!reader

word count ~ 5.3k

authors note: part two is here!! let me just say, thank you all SO so much for all the love you gave me for part one 🫶🏻. there’s a little treat for y’all at the end 🤭 comment to be added to the tag list! this is not proofread.

authors note: for part three, i’m probably going to do a time skip where the contract has been signed and their relationship has begun. don’t worry though, it will still be in the beginning stages!

content warning(s): legal age gap, dom/sub dynamics, in-depth discussions about bdsm and bdsm contracts, kissing, brief mentions of masturbation

venturing is inevitable: masterlist

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you pop in your wireless earbuds, scrolling on your phone to one of your comfort playlists. it was saturday and you were currently in a taxi on your way to the maximoff-romanoff household. it felt so surreal being in this situation. the more you thought about it, the more nervous you felt, so you opted for listening to some music to calm your nerves.

they’d texted you their address the day before, and you were surprised to find out they lived outside the city in the suburbs. not just any suburbs though—the rich suburbs. scarsdale to be more specific. it was just over 20 miles out of manhattan, so the drive usually took between 30-40 minutes, depending on traffic.

you found yourself feeling grateful that mrs. romanoff texted you early in the morning, telling you she insisted they cover the cost of the taxi as when you glance up at the meter halfway through the drive, it was already almost $100.

you’d thought a lot about your coffee “date” with the two married lawyers. you’d taken it upon yourself to do some of your own research on google the afternoon after returning home, but you quickly regretted it as all the images of people tied in uncomfortable positions frightened you. it didn’t help that the majority of the websites listed first were amateurs who didn’t truly understand bdsm dynamics or relationships—but you didn’t know that yet.

there was something else that made you uncomfortable. well, rather something that made you feel shamefully hot in a way you weren’t familiar with. you think back to a few days ago at the coffee shop, noticing all the little ways both mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff gently asserted dominance: they both waited outside, the door was held open for you, they ordered and paid for you, mrs. maximoff guided you gently through the shop, mrs. romanoff hailed you a cab and they both saw you off.. it was all in the little things. all those little things which were carefully calculated and amounted to you feeling safe—cared for. you never imagined you would notice, let alone care for someone to take charge in that way, but you did. you couldn’t begin to imagine all the others things that were typically encapsulated within a dominant. things you were sure both mrs.romanoff and her wife possessed. how far did their dominating desire go? was there anything they didn’t like to have control of?

the cab driver turns down their street, slowing down after passing the first 3 well-spaced out houses and you look out the window to see what you assume to be their home. their house had a clean, modern vibe with some bold design elements. the exterior was wrapped in crisp white paneling, which contrasted against the deep black roof and window frames. the windows were framed with sleek black trim, giving the house a more modern/contemporary feel. the front porch had a few steps leading up to the door, and above it, there’s a simple black square awning that extends out, adding a cool architectural touch. it gave the entrance a little extra character while still keeping things minimal. to the side, there’s a driveway that leads to the garage, and the front featured a circular driveway that made for an easy and elegant arrival or departure. the layout felt both functional and stylish, and modern yet still welcoming.

it’s mrs. maximoff that comes out of the house to greet you. she was dressed in a simple black long-sleeved button up with some white wide leg jeans. her hair was up, twisted in a messy knot that still managed to look elegant. she looked beautiful.

she quickly makes her way over to the taxi driver, handing him a wad of cash without batting an eye. you couldn’t see for sure, but it looked like more than the actual fee that was meant to be paid.

“hey, you,” her greeting paired with what seemed to be her signature smile made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. she seemed genuinely happy to see you again, and for that you felt delighted. you were equally as excited to see her again, even if the circumstances were a bit nerve wracking.

you return her greeting with a small hello, feeling a little flustered when she looks you over in a not-so secretive way.

“look at you…

you know, you really didn’t have to get all dressed up for us,” she grins blithely before leading the way back through the circular drive to the front door.

“this? oh i sort of just threw it on… should i have chosen something else?” you ask shyly as you keep pace with her, walking right by her side.

you’d chosen to wear a rose taupe ruched mini dress with white high tops, and you did not in fact ‘just throw it on.’ it was the 5th outfit you’d tried on before deciding that was what you’d wear.

“i’m messing with you, dragotsennaya veshch. you look very beautiful,” she appraises you and you feel yourself blush at the attention. you remember the nickname from the last time she called you that, but you still had no idea what it meant.

she steps in front, reaching to open the door for you before you both step inside. you marvel at the interior, which was just as beautiful as the outside, however it was less bright. there were more dark tones in here mimicking that of the office at their law firm.

“wow…you guys have a beautiful home,” you muse, admiring the high ceiling in the entry way and the minimal decor.

“well, thank you. follow me.” she speaks warmly, stepping ahead of you to lead you through the house. you find yourself looking around as she walks in front of you, noticing that there weren’t very many personal touches, but they were there if you looked hard enough. in a way, their house almost look like a museum—free of dust and exceptionally organized.

she leads you into a huge open room which appeared to be a cozy living space and just a little past that, the kitchen. there were black pendant lights dangling from the ceiling above the island, which had a black and white marble countertop. you see mrs. romanoff with her back to you, pouring herself a glass of filtered water.

“natasha, our guest is here,” she announces, placing a hand on your back and gently nudging you forward closer to the counter top. natasha turns, an easy smile gracing her features.

even with just a brief glimpse, you couldn’t help but observe how she seemed to be much more at ease in her home. her usual more stiff posture relaxed and the air around her felt a little lighter than normal.

“hi there, pretty girl,” she looks you over, just as her wife did, only she does it even more obviously. “wearing another cute outfit i see,” she murmurs, but it seems like the observation was mostly meant for herself as her eyes continue skimming your figure.

“i thought the same thing! i told her she didn’t have to dress up for us,” mrs. maximoff chuckles, her wife joining in. for that moment, it was as if they were talking about you like weren’t even there, which brought back a now familiar feeling of being small in their presence.

you shrug, ducking your head forward so your hair falls into your face, covering your blush. you hear mrs. romanoff set her glass on the countertop before she rounds the kitchen island, walking until she was standing right next to you. you watch her through your peripheral vision until she’s close enough that you half turn to face her. her hand comes up to gently lift your chin, her finger curling underneath it.

“hey, we’re just teasing you. don’t hide your face from me.” her voice was gentle yet you could sense that she was being serious about you trying to hide your bashfulness from her. you nod your head very slowly, now captivated with her closeness and the air of dominance she carried over with her.

“good. i’d hate to miss seeing these cheeks blush. it’s very cute,” she adds, making your cheeks flame even hotter. she smiles at that, immediately noticing the difference in shade.

“wanda, look at her,” she muses and your eyes dart from hers to mrs. maximoff who steps over to her wife’s side, appraising your pink cheeks with a smile of her own.

“da—dragotsennaya veshch. i told you the name suits her perfectly,” mrs. romanoff hums at her wife’s comment. they both gaze at you, desire and sinful admiration gleaming behind their impossibly green eyes. you fight the urge to suck on your bottom lip, figuring it would only give them more fuel to embarrass you.

you were about to ruin their little moment and ask what name it was that wanda kept referring to you as, but mrs. romanoff suddenly drops her hand, the both of them stepping back away from you.

“do you want some water, (y/n)? are you thirsty?” mrs. romanoff asks, already rounding the counter to the cupboard to retrieve a glass.

“yeah sure,” you nod politely, reaching to grab the glass from her once she’s filled it with water. you take a swig, regardless of not actually being thirsty.

“here, come sit,” mrs. maximoff puts a hand on your elbow, guiding you into the living room area which was just a step down from the kitchen. there was a large sofa towards the center, facing a whole glass wall which stretched across the large open room and overlooked their beautiful backyard. it was so green; many trees, bushes and grass to marvel at.

mrs. maximoff sits on the couch, patting the spot next to her. you sit down, your glass in hand, which she gently takes from you and sets in a cup holder to your right. as she reaches over you, even for the brief moment, you smell a trace of her perfume which smelled something like pears, fig leaves and sandalwood. it was heavenly and somehow seemed to fit her perfectly.

“so, how was the rest of your week? how were your classes?” she asks, propping her elbow on the back couch cushion and resting her cheek on the palm of her hand. something about having her full attention on you in such close proximity made your heart stutter.

“it was good! i only go in person 3 days a week and the rest is online. the homework load was about a medium for this week, so i wasn’t too overwhelmed or anything.” as you speak, mrs. romanoff enters the living room, sitting next to her wife on the couch. she crosses her legs, leaning close to her wife so she can see you just as well.

“what does a ‘medium’ homework load look like to you?” mrs. romanoff asks with a smirk. she must’ve remembered what you’d said at the interview about loving homework.

you sigh amusedly, giving wanda a quick glance to see a touch of a knowing smile on her face. you two were fellow academic lovers it seemed like.

“2 short essays, 3 discussion boards and 1 little worksheet thing.. no big deal,” you giggle softly when mrs. romanoff rolls her eyes at your response.

“right - okay,” she mutters though there’s an affectionate smile curling at her lips.

there was a small bout of silence which was comfortable given the light-hearted tone of the conversation, but that didn’t last very long.

“so, have you thought any more about our conversation at the coffee shop?” mrs. romanoff asks. your tummy does a flip flop at the change in subject, but you knew this was ultimately what you were here for.

“a-a little yeah,” you say, not offering anything else just yet. you look down at your lap, your hands playing with the hem of your dress ending several inches above your knee.

“anything you’d like to share?” mrs. romanoff presses, her features etched with amused interest. she loved the way you instantly became more shy with the new topic of conversation.

“uhm.. well i found some stuff on the internet.. more pictures and some examples of the..um..contracts you mentioned,” you pause, your eyes flickering up from your lap to mrs. maximoff’s face and then her wife’s. mrs. maximoff nods encouragingly, wanting you to continue.

“the contracts largely consisted of rules? is that accurate—like something you guys want from me?” you ask slowly, fighting the urge to bury yourself in a hole and hide. you could feel your skin crawling from how out of your element you felt.

“yes, our contract would have rules. we only have a few set rules for each submissive, but the others we come up with will be personalized just for you once we begin our..relationship,” mrs. maximoff tucks some hair behind your ear, her hand resting just above your knee, trying to be reassuring.

you swallow, gathering up the courage to ask your new follow-up question. “what sort of rules?” your mind thinks back to the many drafted up contracts on the internet, wondering if any of the rules you saw there were ones they’d want for you.

“before we answer that—how do you feel about rules? just thinking about it right now, how would you feel if there were rules we asked you to follow?” mrs. romanoff asks, leaning forward as she rests her elbows on her blue-jean clad thighs. you ponder her question, playing out a scenario in your mind. you remember one “sample” rule you saw online: ‘always greet your dominant kneeling by the door upon their arrival.’ that one was more extreme. you thought of two others: no touching yourself without permission and always address your dominant by their honorific. those ones made your cheeks flush red again, a deep blush gracing your features that couldn’t be ignored.

“look at that blush.. now you have to tell us what you’re thinking,” mrs. maximoff gently nudges you with her shoulder, giving your thigh a little squeeze.

you clear your throat, your fingers drawing imaginary patters on the thigh mrs. maximoff wasn’t holding. “i was just remembering some of the rules..” you reply vaguely. mrs. maximoff hums, sounding unsatisfied with your concise answer. she gently lifts your chin as her wife did earlier, her pointer finger curled under your jaw and her thumb holding your chin in place.

“hey, listen to me. if talking about this truly makes you uncomfortable, we can stop right now. we don’t have to do this if it’s not something you want,” you look into her green eyes, reading the gentleness and sincerity there. your eyes flicker over to mrs. romanoff who had a similar expression, and she nodded at her wife, drawing your attention back to mrs. maximoff.

you hold eye contact with her for a few seconds, finding great comfort in the tenderness held in her green orbs. “that’s not what i want,” you manage to speak, pausing for a second to gather your thoughts. “i’m just not used to talking so openly about this kind of stuff…or having this much attention,” you admit softly, wanting to look down but wanda’s fingers hold you firmly in place.

“you don’t have to be so embarrassed, honey, though it is really cute. still.. this is a safe space. you can ask or tell us anything,” mrs. romanoff reaches her hand across her wife and affectionately traces down your nose, smiling as she does so.

“you think it’s cute?” you blurt the question aloud without really thinking to stop yourself. mrs. romanoff grins wider, a gleam twinkling in her eye.

“it is. i don’t know if i’ve ever met somebody so innocent. it’s equally as cute as it is sexy.” you smile shyly at her words, looking back from her to her wife. mrs. maximoff smiles, her eyes flicking down to your lip which you coyly sucked into your mouth. she uses her thumb to pull your lip free from your teeth, tsking gently as she does so. your breath hitches at the action which both mrs. maximoff and mrs. romanoff notice but don’t comment on.

“how about this, why don’t we start somewhere else? how about you tell us why you didn’t say no right away when we posed the question the other day?” mrs. maximoff asks. you don’t have to think about her question long before you have an answer.

“i guess i was just intrigued.. i mean i guess the thought of being able to submit in some ways is..appealing to me?” you say it as a question, unsure you’re using the correct words to communicate your feelings.

“that’s a good start, detka. tell us more along those lines. what about it appeals to you?” mrs. romanoff encourages you.

you inhale slowly, looking off to the side as you think of how to expand upon your answer. “i think similar to other people, i would like a space or time where i don’t have to have control over all aspects of my life. kinda like…like i want to be able to shut my mind off sometimes - if that makes sense?” you half shrug your shoulder, looking between the two women to see if it looks like they understood your explanation.

“that makes perfect sense, sweetheart. that’s exactly what submission does. when you turn yourself over to your dominant, there’s a sense of freedom that comes with it. knowing that there’s someone you trust that is going to take control and steer you in a certain direction—and you don’t have to think or worry about anything.” mrs. maximoff’s explanation was very appealing to you. you think back on moments when life was really stressful and realize how much more doable those moments would have been had you been able to silence your mind for a little bit.

“that does sound really nice,” you mumble, mostly to yourself, but both of the lawyers noticed. the two of them chuckle softly at your admission, thoroughly entertained by your cuteness.

mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff continue educating you on the many beauties of being a submissive. they’d told you it wasn’t just about the sex, in fact, the sex was never really as good if the dynamic wasn’t always held firmly in place in other aspects of life as well. you listen intently to their words, becoming more and more intrigued by the idea of signing a contract with them by the minute.

“(y/n)?” mrs. romanoff asks after a little bit of her and her wife talking at you.

“hmm?” you look at her curiously, her tone making you slightly nervous to hear her question.

“what was it earlier that had you so embarrassed? something about some rules you found online?” you swallow thickly, remembering the two rules that made you blush so deeply. up until this point, the three of you had all managed not to make this conversation so much about the sexual aspects of bdsm, but rather more the dynamics. your answering the question would change that.

“well…there was one about always addressing your dominant using their honorific and then, um.. well the other said..” you trail off, pressing your lips together as you bounce your leg a bit anxiously.

“it said what, dragotsennaya veshch? come on, i can see it on the tip of your tongue,” mrs. romanoff encourages, a devious smile curling at the corner of her mouth.

“nottotouchyourselfwithoutpermission,” you mumble quickly, the beginning of a blush coloring the apples of your cheeks.

“ah, what was that?” mrs. romanoff makes a show of cupping her ear and tilting her head to show you she was listening, that same wicked smile still plastered on her face. she’d heard exactly what you said.

“natalia, bud' s ney milym,” mrs. maximoff says in what sounds like a gentle scolding tone.

mrs. romanoff just laughs, reaching over and cupping your jaw with one hand. “i can’t help it, look at her!” you pout at what you now knew was her teasing.

“it really is hard not to tease you when you look like that..” mrs. maximoff murmurs in her wife’s defense, tapping your nose as she has her own more subtle version of a wicked smile.

“i can’t help it! when you guys talk to me like that, i have to blush!” you explain, a little exasperated.

“like what?? like you’re the most adorable thing ever? i could eat you up (y/n), i swear to the gods,” mrs. romanoff grins at her own words, seemingly high on the current air in the room which was very light and fuzzy. mrs. maximoff chuckles, purposely squeezing what she guessed would be a sensitive part of your thigh to get you to join in their light laughter. you shake off the ticklish sensation, stubbornly pressing your lips in a firm line as to not smile as they were openly teasing you without mercy.

“not funny..” you mutter, making a show of crossing your arms over your chest and pouting cutely.

“you’re right - we’re getting off topic. so, back to the rule about not touching yourself…” mrs. romanoff starts, her tone teasing.

“okay! we can go back to teasing me again,” you say a little too loudly, feeling less embarrassed about the topic now, but still a little nervous.

“sorry little girl, you’re not gonna wiggle your way out of this one for a third time,” mrs. maximoff pokes your side before reaching down and casually lifting your legs to drape across both her and her wife’s lap. the sudden change of sitting position and new physical contact made your tummy flutter, your attention suddenly fully locked in on the two of them.

“would you have a problem with that rule?” mrs. maximoff asks, the tone in the air quickly changing again.

“uhm..well i-“ you clear your throat, running your hand nervously through your hair. “is that one of your set rules?” you feel mrs. maximoff’s fingers begin to lightly trace a small line up and down your thigh. she and mrs. romanoff both looked so in their element and you were just here—a clueless little thing.

“yes, it is,” mrs. maximoff responds. you swallow thickly again, a dull ache beginning to settle in your lower tummy. just the thought alone was beginning to make your body heat up. what did they do if their submissive did touch themselves?

“oh…what would you do if your submissive broke that rule?” you ask curiously, unable to keep that question to yourself.

mrs. romanoff looks at her wife and you could see a brief silent conversation happening with their eyes. they both turn their attention back to you before mrs. romanoff speaks up.

“there are a few punishments we would most likely choose from: a spanking, edging or overstimulation. the punishment our submissive would receive would depend on who is delivering the punishment and also what the submissive is okay with and work within her limits.” she explains it so casually, but you find her words anything but casual. you were surprised that the thought of being spanked made you shamefully hot. it was starting to seem like they were awakening something in you you didn’t know existed.

“edging..? is that like an orgasm denial thing?” you ask the clarifying question, both of their ease and openness on the topic beginning to rub off on you a bit. it really did feel like a safe space.

“mhmm, that’s exactly right,” mrs. romanoff nods her head, giving you an encouraging smile.

“so…why that rule?” as you ask your question, the short lines mrs. maximoff was drawing on your leg turn to intricate circles. she seemed to be doing it absentmindedly.

mrs. romanoff purses her lips, her eyes gleaming with desire. “because, detka. if you agree to be our submissive, your pleasure will belong to us. every sound you make, every twitch, every thought we want to be apart of—to possess and control.” her facial expression turns a little harder as she speaks, an air of dominance surrounding the three of you like a little bubble. you feel your mouth go dry, your legs unconsciously pressing together at her words.

“are you alright, sweetheart?” mrs. maximoff asks, noticing your cheeks flush and your legs press together as they still lay across her and her wife’s lap. she knows exactly why you’re suddenly more restless, but she can’t help but tease you a bit with it.

“mhmm, i’m fine,” you squeak, your voice cracking which you try to cover up by clearing your throat. your mind scrambles to think of another question—anything to get the intense attention off of you, even for a moment.

“what do your submissives call you?” you ask, hoping their answer wouldn’t make your panties any wetter than they were already becoming.

mrs. maximoff raises a hand to the side of your face, curling some hair behind your ear as she simply replies, “mommy—they address me as mommy.” she then reaches blindly to the side, cupping under mrs. romanoff’s chin. “and they call natasha, daddy.”

you hear your own breathing hitch, their honorifics taking you back a bit. somehow, they encapsulated those names perfectly but hearing mrs. maximoff say them out loud was a different thing. you picture yourself addressing them as such, and you feel your panties becoming wetter. you mentally slap yourself. you needed to get a grip otherwise you were going to start dripping onto your thigh.

“you like that, don’t you, krasivaya devushka?” mrs. romanoff asks in a low voice, her eyes drinking in your thighs which were now noticeably pressed firmly together.

where your mouth once felt dry, it was now watering. your lips part as you exhale breathily. you look from mrs. romanoff to mrs. maximoff who was now leaning closer to you, glancing at your lips. you lick them subconsciously, leaning closer to her. you feel her hand come to cradle the back of your head, her other hand cupping under your jaw, gripping it more firmly than you’d expect. your breath is shaky as your heart begins to pound in your ears, the smell from mrs. maximoff filling your nose as she leans even closer to you until your faces are merely inches apart.

“do you want this, dragotsennaya veshch?” her voice is seductive and slow as she enunciates her words. her green eyes were hooded, her lips looking so very tempting.

you nod your head, not taking your eyes off of her lips. you see a hint of a smile there as she closes the small gap, her lips parting slightly before she presses them against yours. her lips tasted faintly of grapefruit and you instantly want more of it.

your arms reach up to wrap around her neck as she kisses you slowly but deeply. she hums into your mouth, one of her hands sliding down your arm to your hip and gripping there firmly. so caught up in the sensations of her lips on yours and her hands touching you so expertly, you let out a small whimper. mrs. maximoff gives your hip a squeeze after hearing that, her tongue tracing your bottom lip. just as you part your lips to give her access to your mouth, she pulls away, a pleased smirk on her face.

“a little eager, are we?” she chuckles and it’s only after her comment that you realize in the midst of your kiss, you’ve curled your legs up in her lap, your arms wrapping tightly around her as you cling to her body.

you loosen your hold, feeling a little shy at having so easily gotten carried away. “m’sorry,” you mumble, your legs stretching back out so they’re sprawled across mrs. romanoff’s legs again.

“oh sweetheart, you don’t have to apologize. it’s very cute,” she coos at the end of her sentence, her finger coming up to delicately trace your bottom lip. you look at her, your soft eyes full of wonder and adoration.

“i want to do this,” you announce, looking between mrs. maximoff and mrs. romanoff who had begun stroking your legs as they rest on her thighs.

they both chuckle softly at your pronouncement, finding your sudden enthusiasm amusing.

“patience, pretty girl. there’s still some things we need to discuss before we have you sign the contract,” mrs. romanoff says before continuing, “i think we’ve explored enough for today. why don’t we send you a copy of our contract, you can review it,,and then when we get together next—if you still want to—you can sign it.” she suggests and you readily agree, knowing how badly you already want to see them again and how anxiously eager you are to continue exploring this new world.

you decide to see each other again tomorrow, which was at mrs. maximoff’s suggestion, but they both seemed equally eager to spend more time with you.

they order you an uber, insisting on paying the fee. mrs. romanoff got all stern when you’d said you really didn’t expect them to pay and she told you that was nonsense and that she didn’t want to hear you say another word about them covering costs of things for you.

as they walk you to the door, you say your goodbye’s, excited at the prospect of seeing them tomorrow. you make your way over to the uber parked in the circular driveway, mrs. maximoff lingering the doorway as mrs. romanoff walks you to the car. just before you reach for the door handle, you turn to say something to her and gasp softly when you realize she’s standing very close to you. you could sense a switch had flipped in her—the one that causes her to exude so much more dominant energy.

your posture becomes less dignified, your bottom lip sucked into your mouth as you glance up at her. she leans down close to you, her finger tilting your chin up.

“don’t touch yourself tonight,” she says firmly, her eyes locking in on yours.

“wh-what?” you breath out, feeling a little disoriented with her closeness and the energy she was exuding.

“you heard me—i know you’ll want to. regardless of the contract not being signed, i don’t want you to pleasure yourself. do you understand?” her voice is sinfully sexy as she commands you in a way no one ever has before.

your cheeks blush as you glance from the front door where mrs. maximoff was still standing and then back to her wife. you slowly nod your head, swallowing harshly as your neck was still extended from your chin being lifted up.

“good girl,” she praises, closing the gap and placing a peck on your unsuspecting lips. she releases your face, stepping back and opening the door for you as if nothing had happened. you climb inside in a daze, your eyes fogged over as your mind feels a little fuzzy.

“see you tomorrow, (y/n),” she drags your name out in a slight teasing tone before shutting the door, the car driving off as you’re left sitting there stunned.

there was no way you weren’t going to sign that contract.

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#venturing is inevitable: series #vii #wandanat #wandanat x reader #wandanat smut #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #natasha romanoff x you #mommy!wanda #daddy!nat

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ultimatecutenesspeaks · 2 years ago

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Soon bunny takes the dessert and eat it bunny holy moly this is delicious soon in the blink of a eye bunny eat the dessert Charlotte have created for him bunny thanks Charlotte soon pets her head

*Charlotte happily enjoys the affection.*

Eda: Welp, it's getting late. Guess it's about time to get some sleep, huh?

#eda speaks🐰#answered asks🐰💗#bunny anon #the owl house timeline #something ventured someone framed arc

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the-owl-house-blorbo-brawl · 2 months ago

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Preliminary Round Match 5: The First Day vs Something Ventured, Someone Framed

The First Day: During Luz's first day of Magic School, curiosity gets the best of her, and she finds herself thrown into the Detention Track, where she's not allowed to learn magic.

Something Ventured, Someone Framed: When Gus sneaks Luz into Hexside School to present at the Human Appreciation Society, Luz sees a side of the school she didn't expect.

#preliminary round #the first day #something ventured someone framed #the owl house best episode bracket #the owl house best episode tournament #hexside #toh basilisk #matt tholomule #gustholomule

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icy-watch · 8 months ago

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Awe, Eda

She and Lilith were really close when they were kids

#liveblogging #the owl house #season 1 #episode 9 #something ventured someone framed #toh s01e09

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hyunesent · 7 months ago

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: ̗̀➛ A HIDDEN VULNERABILITY

"Tsukishima's whisper sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but melt into the bed. "I could give it to you," he murmured, his words dripping with temptation. "I could give you the best fuck of your life, without any strings attached."

a tsukishima x reader oneshot (afab)

cw: jealous tsukishima, mentions of kageyama and reader, some angst (tsuki doubting himself + relationship troubles), oral sex ( m + f receiving), tsuki is mean at first, rough sex, edging, teasing.

Under the pale luminescence of a waxing moon, Tsukishima Kei stood at the edge of the gymnasium, his golden eyes watching you with an intensity that belied his typically aloof demeanour.

The cool night air wrapped around him like a shroud, concealing the turmoil that churned within his chest. He was the picture of calm indifference, his tall frame leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, yet his heart beat a frantic rhythm against his ribcage.

Inside, the gym was alive with the echo of laughter and the rhythmic thud of volleyballs meeting floors. You were there, a radiant presence among his teammates, your smile bright enough to rival the moonlight. As you laughed at something Kageyama said, Tsukishima felt a sharp pang of something unfamiliar-jealousy.

He hated how his stomach twisted when he saw the two of you, hated the way his insecurities gnawed at his resolve.

He bit down on his tongue hard when he saw how close the two of you were, laughing together, closing the proximity between you two. At one point Kageyamas hand had snaked around your waist to gently move you out of the way and Tsukishima had to watch as it loitered there for way too long paired with eye contact that made him murderous.

Tsukishima had always prided himself on his detachment and ability to keep people at arm's length. But you had dismantled his defences with ease. Your kindness, your genuine affection. And now, the fear of losing you to someone more worthy threatened to undo him completely.

The night wore on, and the gym began to empty, the sounds of the game fading into the quiet of the evening. You lingered, still chatting with Kageyama, unaware of the storm brewing in Tsukishima's mind. When you finally noticed him, standing in the shadows, a flicker of concern crossed your face.

"Kei?" you called softly, your voice a gentle soothing to his raw nerves. "Everything okay?"

He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. Vulnerability was a foreign land to him, one he had never willingly ventured into. But tonight, the fear of losing you overpowered his pride. There was a tremor in his gaze, a plea for reassurance.

Tsukishima forced a tight-lipped smile, his facade of aloofness slipping slightly as he replied, "I'm fine. Just tired from practice." The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to voice the turmoil swirling within him.

You studied him for a moment, your expression soft with understanding. Tsukishima felt a surge of gratitude towards you, mingled with an ache for something more he couldn't quite name. As you bid Kageyama goodbye and walked over to him, the air between you crackled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

As the two of you walked home, there was something different in the way he looked at you. Something dark and possessive. It sent a shiver down your spine, but also a thrill that you couldn't quite explain. His golden eyes held a depth you hadn't seen before as if he was trying to convey a message without words. The hostility in his tone lingered, intensifying the breeze rustling the leaves overhead.

Eventually, a heavy silence stretched between you. Tsukishima's usual aloofness was tinged with an undercurrent of something primal, something raw that made your heart race

As you approached his apartment building. The click of the key in the lock echoed through the empty hallway, a stark contrast to the charged atmosphere between you. Tsukishima led the way inside, his footsteps purposeful and unwavering. The silence enveloped you both like a heavy cloak, suffocating any attempts at conversation.

You watched as he shrugged off his jacket, the fabric falling to the floor in a haphazard heap. Without sparing you a glance, he made a beeline for the bathroom, his movements swift and controlled. The sound of running water soon filled the air, a sharp reminder of the distance between you.

Confusion and tension wrapped around you like invisible chains. Tsukishima's sudden change in demeanour had thrown you off balance, leaving you grasping for some semblance of understanding. The way he seemed to be wrestling with his inner demons made your heart ache with a mixture of sympathy and fear.

You stood in the dimly lit living room, uncertain of what to do next. The seconds stretched into minutes as you waited, the sound of the running water creating a dissonant background to the turmoil brewing within you. His apartment felt unfamiliar now, shadows lurking in every corner where there used to be only familiarity. You sinked face. first onto his bed and struggled to look up to rest your face between your hands.

Your mind was running a mile a minute overthinking every interaction you had with him today, desperate to know what was wrong.

Minutes passed in a suspended state of uncertainty, each tick of the clock echoing loudly in your ears. The water from the shower continued its steady rhythm, a barrier separating you from Tsukishima. You debated whether to stay or leave, unsure of where you stood with him at that moment.

As you tried to gather your thoughts, the door to the bathroom creaked open, and Tsukishima emerged His hair was damp and tousled, strands sticking to his forehead while his shirt fit in a way that allowed his collarbone to peer through.

Suddenly, Tsukishima was behind you, his breath fanning the top of your head. You could feel the heat radiating off his body as he reached out his hands to slide them against your waist, you gasped softly at the new touch. Your heart pounded in your chest, the moment stretching taut between you like a drawn bowstring.

“What was that with Kageyama?” Tsukishima murmured, his voice low and gravelly, you felt a sharp stab of remorse upon hearing the pain in his voice. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, sending a jolt of anticipation through you. His lips traced barely-there kisses along your neck and shoulder. Starkly contrasting the form grip he now had on your hips, igniting a trail of tingling warmth in its wake.

You remembered the closeness between you and your boyfriend’s teammate and you hoped that he had interpreted the situation differently. Taking a deep breath, you turned to face him. The expression in his eyes was undeniably dark and hard, and you could understand why.

"Kei, I’m sorry," you said, stammering. "I didn't mean to—I just got—"

"Swept up in the moment?" Tsukishima interrupted with a sneer. "Come on. Did you really believe I'd accept that excuse?"

Without another word, Tsukishima gently wrapped his arms around your body, his gentleness confusing yet comforting given the situation. He turned you around onto your back and looked into your eyes with a now unreadable expression.

His presence loomed over you, a dark cloud suffocating any sense of self-control. You were nothing but a puppet in his hands, helplessly succumbing to his every whim and desire.

“I know you better than anyone y/n” he reminded you with his lips ghosting against yours. He pulled back with a smirk when you chased them and opted to press his thumb to your bottom lip.

You lean forward slightly to take it between your lips sucking it gently as Tsukishimas gaze becomes more intense. His other hand trails down your front, stopping just above where you needed him most and you can see the anticipation written all over his face. He pressed down gently eliciting a sinful whine from you.

Your tongue swirls around his thumb, tasting the faint saltiness of his skin, watching in fascination as he fought to maintain his composure by closing his eyes.

They snap open with a new drive as he removes his hands from you only returning them to press his fingers against your clothed cunt. Already desperate you moan out craving more from him and he settles between your legs to pull you in for a heated kiss.

You kiss him back matching his intensity and exploring each other’s tongues, his lips are soft and demanding against yours, his hands roaming your body with a heat that sets your skin on fire. Your fingers tangle in his hair, relishing the feeling of his short strands against your skin. You felt lightheaded and being able to feel his hardening erection against your pussy with only thin material between the two didn’t help.

His hand sneaks up to wrap his slender fingers around your throat applying just the right amount of pressure to the sides.

Your eyes screw shut as he turns your head to the side, giving him full access to the expanse of your neck. His lips part slightly to trail his tongue tantalizingly slow up the side of your neck finishing with a kiss to your most sensitive spot while grinding his cock onto your pussy, every movement calculated to elicit pleasure and desire from you.

Your legs instinctively spread wider needing more from him so you plea with a moan:

“Fuck Kei, I want you so bad.” Those words came out more breathless than you intended but he lacked the amusement he would usually have.

“No, you don’t.” He rolls his hips into yours again, harder this time. “You want someone else.”

Tsukishima couldn’t even bring himself to say the other man’s name and the conflict was evident in his gaze as he groped at your chest. Even though he was behaving in a certain way, his underlying insecurities were still palpable. After the events that occurred earlier, these feelings seemed to have heightened and become more prominent.

You struggled to form coherent sentences as Tsukishima kept stimulating you. You were hot and bothered and you felt distant from the man on top of you despite your proximity.

Tsukishima's whisper sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but melt into the bed. "I could give it to you," he murmured, his words dripping with temptation. "I could give you the best fuck of your life, without any strings attached. You could leave and go to him right now." You didn’t know whether to moan or cry at his sheer lack of emotion when stating his offer.

But what you did know is that you didn't want anyone else. "No," you whimpered, grasping onto Tsukishima's arm. "Please, I only want you. It's always been you."

Tsukishima's rough hand slips into your pants, his fingers moving expertly as he searches for your slick heat. Faint streaks of wetness cling to his skin as he pulls his hand back and messily spreads your arousal over your lower stomach.

Tsukishima's fingers are cool against your heated skin, his touch sending shivers through your body. As he spreads your slick over your folds as well, fingers brushing over your clit, you feel a jolt of pleasure shoot through you, causing your body to arch and writhe beneath him.

“I bet he doesnt know how messy and rough you like it when we fuck.” His fingers are focused on your clit now and you’re a moaning mess.

“Think he could make you moan like this?” he coos at you “I’m barely touching you”

“Kei! Please—”

“But really, it’s up to you,” Tsukishima said nonchalantly, smirking a bit as he spread your pussy lips open, hearing you moan. “maybe he’s better than me,”

“I’m not going anywhere, Kei,” you begged, nearly crying. “I’m yours, I promise!”

“Promise?” his tone was now soft as he tilted your chin down to search your eyes for sincerity.

“Yes!” You reached out to tangle your fingers in his hair.

Tsukishima let his eyes flutter close for a moment and melted into your touch. When he opened them again he collected you in his arms tenderly and then through you onto the covers the way he wanted you, pinning you down your head on the pillows.

"Good girl," he murmured, pulling down your pants and soaked underwear. He then traced his tongue up your slit, making you gasp with pleasure."

From this point on tsukishima was not gentle and showed you no mercy, devouring your pussy like a starved man focused solely on your pleasure. With every lick and suck, he dialled up the intensity, using his tongue in ways that had you panting and moaning with each thrust.

He went deeper, his rough tongue darting inside you, hitting your G-spot just right, making your back arch off the bed, your hands gripping the sheets in a vice-like hold. His lips were soft, but his tongue was a force to be reckoned with, flicking, teasing, and exploring your most sensitive spots.

You were a mess now, your entire body trembling with pleasure, your breath coming in short gasps as you begged for more.

And so you gave in, desperately clinging to him, writhing beneath him with each thrust and lick. The world was reduced to that one moment, that one sensation. You no longer thought about the other man, the one who had caused this turmoil within you. All that mattered was Tsukishima, his skilful touch, and the way he made you feel.

Your eyes scrunched shut once more as he placed his hand on your chest, his thumb gently grazing your nipple. He knew all of your sensitive spots, your weak points.

“Don't stop! I’m—”

Before you could even finish he pulls away, expressionless, lower face covered in your slick. You whine and lift your hips off the bed but you can’t deny your arousal heightening at the sight of him.

Without saying a word he taps the outside of your leg while kissing your inner thigh signalling for you to get up. He chuckles when he notices you struggling slightly but you manage to crawl towards him nevertheless and push his shirt off. He looks down at you with an admiring smile and responds immediately, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside, along with his boxers.

Her eyes grew wide at the sight of his length: rock hard and already dripping. You marvel at him in awe while he’s attentively watching your expression.

“Looks like someone wants me bad,” Tsukishima purred, leisurely stroking his length as his eyes watched you carefully, challenging you to make a move.

His constant teasing had finally reached its limit, and you were determined to get back at him. You sat up and crawled over to him, where you slapped his hand away from his length, taking control with your own hand.

Tsukishima inhaled sharply, tilting his head back, but he immediately brought it back down, not wanting to take his eyes off of you.

"Faster," he demanded, his voice strained.

You hurried your hand up and down his length, occasionally grazing your thumb over the tip and relishing in the sounds of pleasure that escaped him. When you noticed his fists clenching the sheets, turning white with tension, you knew he was close. So without hesitation, you did what came naturally to you.

He groaned and swore as you took all of him into your mouth. Tsukishima's body shuddered as you slowly moved your head up and down, maintaining eye contact with him. Suddenly, he grabbed a handful of your hair and forcefully pushed your head down, making you take all of him in at once.

You choked and gasped for air, and it seemed like your body was reacting in his favour – the tightness in his stomach began to loosen, and he was on the brink of losing control. He repeated your name like a mantra as if pleading to anyone listening.

Before he could give in to his desires, he suddenly snapped out of it and pulled you off him. You trembled with anticipation as Tsukishima's expression turned into one filled with pure lust. He manoeuvred you around, forcing you onto your hands and knees.

He stood behind you, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. "I'm going to make you feel so good," he breathed, his words sending shivers down your spine. You let out a moan, unable to resist his dirty talk. It was always a turn-on for you.

You feel your breath hitch at his weight shifting on the bed before you feel his cock against your glistening opening.

He uses his top to spread your slick around and gently pushes your legs wider. He begins to push into you struggling at first.

“shit- baby relax.” he hisses and leans forward to kiss your shoulder and hold you tenderly for a moment, relieving some of your tension.

You feel his soft lips part on your shoulder as he pushes his length into you slowly letting you feel every vein against your walls.

Once he was fully inside you, he pulled out almost entirely, a slow, teasing motion that left you yearning for more. Then, he began to thrust, creating a rhythm that left both of you gasping for air.

You’re moaning load so he pushes your head into the pillow, the new position allowing him to thrust deeper causing you to let out a muffled scream.

He groaned and picked up the pace, his hips slapping against your ass. You were lost in the moment, feeling his cock deep inside you, and the passion between you growing with every thrust.

Tsukishima groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as he felt the pleasure building within him. His cock slammed against your G-spot with each brutal stroke, sending waves of ecstasy through you both.

You were panting now, your body trembling with the intensity of the sensation. You felt his hands digging into your flesh, possessive and needy, driving you wild.

“Oh god, Kei! Right there, just like that!” you cried out, cupping at your slick, needy mound.

Tsukishima slapped your hand away, replacing it with his own as he messily stimulated your clit. He pounded into you harder, his cock swelling with each thrust, you could feel the build-up of his climax.

"I'm going to cum, baby," he growled, his voice low and thick. "You want my cum, don't you?"

You nodded vigorously, looking back with eyes wide with desire. He smirked, his gaze locked on yours, and then he began to thrust even faster. Your screams filled the room as he hit your sweet spot over and over again.

With one final thrust, Tsukishima whispered your name, releasing a torrent of intensity within you, bringing your climax crashing down upon you. Your body shook with pure bliss, every nerve ending ignited by his touch.

He collapsed on top of you for a moment, his breath ragged as he tried to catch his breath. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, feeling both relieved and exhilarated.

Slowly, he pulled away, leaving a kiss on your forehead, before helping you to lie down on the bed in a more comfortable position. The afterglow was just as intense as the passion, leaving an unspoken comfort between you. You opened your eyes, to see Tsukishima’s golden ones staring right back at you.

You reached out to brush the wet strands of hair from his forehead and he sighed softly pulling you closer to him. The two of you shared tender kisses and he looked up at you with a flash of raw vulnerability.

“You’re mine. No one else’s.” he rasped.

You nodded in agreement causing you both to crack smiles before you kissed his cheek softly and held him as he fell asleep almost instantly.

You observed him as he slept; it was during these vulnerable moments that you were reminded of the gentleness that always resided within him, hidden beneath his tough facade. You lightly traced the line of his jaw, completely enamoured with him.

𝘼𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: This is a work of fiction not a portrayal of anyone in real life. this was supposed to be much shorter but I got carried away lol. This is not proofread so I'm sorry for any mistakes! Likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated. Happy reading .ᐟ

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comatosebunny09 · 2 months ago

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merry christmas, mr. sylus

— summary: the one where you nearly tear your hair out, trying to find the perfect christmas gift for your office crush. — cw: fluff, romance, jealousy, feelings of inadequacy, reader is not mc, ceo au, modern au, aged-up characters, mutual pining — notes: part 2 here — now playing: merry christmas mr. lawrence - utada

What do you get a man who has everything? Who can buy anything at the drop of a hat?

Nothing. The answer is nothing. And the realization, as it slowly descends onto your shoulders, is really starting to piss you off.

You blow some hair from your face for the umpteenth time since you’ve started this little adventure. Throw yourself against the bench in the midst of the mall’s second floor, peering up at the ceiling as if it can solve all your problems.

Your wares, bags of varying colors, sizes, and materials, sit off to the side. It’s an impressive haul��gifts for coworkers, family, and friends. But nothing buried beneath the sparkly tissue paper of said bags is for him.

At least, not yet.

You lean back in a defeated slouch, arms crossed over your chest. Puffing your cheeks out, you exhale all slow and dramatic, watching the lights adorning the Christmas tree in the mall’s epicenter twinkle like bokeh. Your lips twist into a pout.

Mr. Sylus isn’t particularly picky, at least from what you’ve gleaned from working as his secretary the past year. You know how he likes his coffee: black. How he prefers your morning briefs: quick and concise. How he often falls asleep in his office, propped on an elbow on his desk, the usual furrow between his brows traded for something more serene as sunlight bleeds in, framing him like a halo–your cheeks warm at the memory.

You bow forward with a sigh, your head held in your hands.

You know enough about your boss to appease him. To level with him. You just wished you knew him a little…better. Enough to make this gift-buying venture you’ve been on since 8 AM worthwhile.

You tried asking Luke and Kieran, his financial and technology advisors, for pointers. They’d worked with him longer than anyone else at Starlight Enterprises. Naturally, they knew him like the backs of their hands. But they spoke in riddles when you asked. Confused the hell out of you, speaking of challenging his authority to get to his heart and things of that nature.

You didn’t know what the hell any of that meant. And even if you did, it’s not like you were out to steal his heart, though you someday hoped to.

As cordial as Mr. Sylus had been since you began working for him, you always felt like he kept you at arm’s length, even as the months under his tutelage eased by. He steeled himself against you, though your coworkers swore they’d never heard him so talkative.

Sure, he occasionally greeted you with rare smiles and snickered at your terrible, cringe-inducing jokes. Entertained you with sporadic coffee runs and maybe went out of his way to chat you up before disappearing behind the heavy, oakwood door to his office. But you didn’t expect a man like him to fully open his chest cavity to you, no matter how disarming you were.

You were so desperate for the perfect present that you even perused through his contacts and reached out to someone who’d frequented his office more times than you could count. Ms. Hunter. She had a name, but you’d grown accustomed to addressing her as such, adopting the moniker from your boss.

Sylus always smiled so youthfully when she swung around your desk and walked into his office. Her presence alone seemed to shave 10 years off his life in a way you were envious of. You didn’t know the semantics of their relationship. Could never make out what they were saying, their voices distorted murmurs behind a closed door. As far as you were concerned, they were good friends. Or your delusions had convinced you of such, and you still secretly hoped you stood a chance with him.

But you couldn’t help how your stomach gnarled, and words stalled in your throat when, after each time she left, Mr. Sylus was particularly cheerful. Or as spirited as a man like him could be, his eyes shining with residual fondness as he requested you reschedule his meetings before he shacked up in his office again.

You shake your head to dispel your thoughts. You’ve sunken into the abyss of self-deprecation again. Now’s not the time to pity yourself.

The bottom line was that Ms. Hunter wasn’t much help, either; she was cryptic on the phone as she threw out generic options, seemingly disinterested. But you wouldn’t give up despite how unhelpful everyone around you was. Mr. Sylus deserved something—anything to show how grateful you were to have been taken under his wing.

You sit up again, watching as families and couples mill about, swept up by the Christmas spirit. Briefly, you wonder if Mr. Sylus even celebrates Christmas. Your endeavor might've been for naught. He doesn’t strike you as the type to indulge in silly holiday traditions. He’s usually all business and stoned-faced when he isn’t entertaining your morbid jokes or his lady friend. But you’re persistent, having organized a holiday party on Christmas Eve at the office without his consent.

You told him after you already set your plans into motion. And he looked at you from the rim of his monitor with a quirked brow and a smirk canting one corner of his lips skyward. He sat back in an easy slouch, tapping the tips of his fingers together, seemingly mulling over your request.

“Do I even have a say in the matter?” he teased in that humored, attractive rasp.

You stood before him, determined, a hand on your hip whilst the other clutched a set of Manila folders to your chest. “Not at all.”

Mr. Sylus scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew he was fighting a losing battle.

You could be terribly insistent when you wanted to be. Most of the time, it got you into trouble in your previous professions. However, as you grew more accustomed to your boss, you found he coddled your fighting spirit.

And with time, you also discovered it easier to manipulate him—at least to a certain degree. Your pout and guilt-tripping when he wouldn’t bend to your will, he could manage. But you barging into his office, insisting he eat, stretch, or simply take a load off? He could not contest that.

Or he at least chose not to.

He threw his hands up in mock surrender, the amusement never leaving his face. “You drive a hard bargain. I won’t interfere. But don’t expect me to help you orchestrate this little soiree.”

You smiled triumphantly, peering down at your boss from the tip of your nose. “I don’t. I just expect you to be there with your cutest Christmas sweater, smiling and ready to party.”

He gave you a look. One that read, ‘I don’t do cute.’ And you stifled a laugh, imagining your stoic and trendy boss donning something other than a suit. He must’ve caught wind of what was going on in your head, lifting a brow at your mischievous cackle.

He waved his hand dismissively. Cheek dimpled whilst he busied himself with some financial reports on his desk. You spun on your heel, skipping out of his office with all the eagerness of a child, set to finish your work for the evening.

The earlier you finished, the more time you had for gift shopping and preparing for your holiday shindig.

Funnily enough, though your boss insisted he wouldn’t entertain your holiday antics, extra funds mysteriously appeared on the company card.

Two days later, you find yourself a huffy, downtrodden mess, stewing in your inadequacy.

You’ve scoured the city for the perfect gift over the past few days. Woke up early to travel out of town even, hoping to find something. Anything to make your boss all misty-eyed and appreciative. You’ve come up short; nothing seems to fit his vibe.

You’ve looked at watches, ties, cologne, and luxurious sweaters. Checked stores with prices that made your paycheck shudder. Nothing seems to resonate with him. To capture the essence of Mr. Sylus.

A glance at your smartwatch reveals it’s mid-afternoon. You deflate. Here you are, cities away from the investment firm, and you’ve nothing to show for your efforts.

It’s Christmas Eve. Your day off. You should be using it to prepare for the party, but your coworkers assured you they’d handle the decorations while you ran your errands.

Still, you’re at least an hour away from your home. Traffic is a hellscape around this time of year. You need to get back quickly to wrap presents and gather yourself for the festivities.

Resigned, you peel yourself from the bench, your bags weighted in either of your hands. You trudge across the mall’s upper level in search of the escalator. Maybe Mr. Sylus will forgive you for not having gotten him a gift. Anything you could think of getting, he could buy himself. He’s the CEO of the most notable investment company in the city. Surely, he wouldn’t bat an eye if you showed up to the party empty-handed.

Your head slung low, you’re about to descend on the escalator. However, something catches your attention in your periphery. You curiously meander towards a display window adorned with gaudy Alternative Christmas decorations. Something inside captures your interest, and a smile slowly crawls onto your lips.

With a renewed tide of optimism washing over you, you wander into the store.

Maybe fate is on your side today.

—

Your holiday soirée is fairly low-key.

It’s littered with modest decorations. Christmas garlands adorn the walls and columns of the tenth floor, dripping from the ceiling. String lights twinkle overhead, tables donned with red and green tablecloths and poinsettia centerpieces.

The six-foot tall Christmas tree is the focal point, frocked with artificial snow and sparkling ethereally amid the dark grey walls of your office space. Sure, you had to strain on tippy-toe to put the star up. And maybe you still had a bit of the faux powder in your hair. But, with a glass of bubbly poised at your lips, you inwardly pat yourself on the back. You truly outdid yourself, breathing life into these otherwise drab walls.

A few of your coworkers along with some of the other department heads are in attendance, trading work talk and gossip. Even Ms. Hunter carved out some time—at your insistence—to come.

Over your time as his secretary, you’ve gathered that Mr. Sylus is a bit of an introvert. You didn’t want to overwhelm him with a crowd. He gets enough attention as it is, being amongst the country's youngest, most successful business moguls. He’s always under scrutiny, much to your dismay. He deserves to take a load off from time to time, which is why you were so adamant about throwing this party in the first place.

Speaking of the devil, you haven’t taken your eyes off him since he made his grand entrance. Always had him in sight, sneaking little glimpses of his figure as it cut a sharp, regal outline amid the humble decor.

He looks amazing. Then again, when hasn’t he? With his striking white hair and uncommon, scarlet eyes, he sifts through his guests as he entertains them with fruitless chatter.

Though he didn’t entirely humor you with an ugly Christmas getup, he still wore something festive. A burgundy sweater that doesn’t betray his usual style. Complimented it with a black button-up beneath, matching slacks, and onyx loafers. Still so inherently Mr. Sylus.

He routinely captures your gaze. Raises his champagne glass to you in greeting, a small, dimpled smirk lighting up his features. You hide your bashfulness behind your glass, turning away to chat up your coworkers beneath the ambient crooning of the jazz music spilling from the speakers.

The night eases by with a bit of champagne. With hors d'oeuvres, karaoke, silly party games, and raucous laughter coloring the atmosphere. Everyone appears to be in good spirits, a few of the party’s attendees stopping by to let you know what a great job you’ve done putting everything together.

You brush them off with a lopsided smile, the bubbly fizzling in your system. You gnaw on your bottom lip once left to your own devices. You grapple with the idea of giving your present to your boss now. It’s a quarter ‘till 10 PM, and you’re sure you won’t have a more opportune time to present it to him.

You spot your boss amid the partygoers, the world around him blurring and bending as you focus solely on him. He talks with his Chief Technology Officer, a hand stuffed in his pocket. His posture is relaxed, an occasional, rich laugh spilling from his throat. You decide you quite like this side of him. His defenses at half-mast, swept up in the holiday cheer.

Your face warms. You’re not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the magnetic pull you feel towards him. With a bit of liquid encouragement, you swallow your resolve and swipe your gift from beneath the Christmas tree, making a beeline towards the man of the hour after his conversation ends.

But fate has other plans for you tonight, no longer working in your favor.

You’re halfway across the room when she walks into frame—Ms. Hunter. The smile you once held dampens, and you clutch your gift to your chest, stock-still. You watch with bated breath as she produces a thin, rectangular box from behind her and presents it to your boss, the glossy wrapping paper catching in the incandescent light.

He accepts it with a rare smile. Sets his champagne flute on a high-top table and carefully unravels the gift. Once the box’s contents are revealed, your throat grows dry, your eyes prickling with something warm.

It’s a crudely knit, crimson scarf. It looks like it itches and is two sizes too big for just one person. But it’s clearly a labor of love, and Mr. Sylus bends to allow his lady friend to drape it around his neck. He exudes a quiet fondness as she grazes the tip of his nose with one of the scarf’s frayed ends. It’s simple, yet it speaks volumes of the affection blooming between them.

Without having spoken a word, you sense whatever relationship they share stretches beyond that of mere friendship. It’s something more. Something you could only hope to obtain, but you’re grossly outmatched. All those months you spent in denial, rose-tinted glasses perched on your nose. You never stood a chance, and the realization slams into you with the force of a tsunami.

With a bitter chuckle, you peer down at the intricately wrapped gift in your hands. You’d taped and retaped it several times, determined to get the lines and creasing just right. Took your time curling the ribbons with scissors and scrawling his name on the To line. You protected your gift with your life on your way to the party. Cradled it like a baby. But now, the sight of it makes your stomach churn, the taste of bile heavy on the back of your tongue.

Feeling incredibly foolish, you hide your present at the small of your back, quietly stepping away to nurse your wounded pride.

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