#what dots did I even connect here

[ikuzeminna]

What's up with the wolves?

This post made me want to talk about Duo and how he was initially conceived as Gundam Wing's protagonist, but instead of derailing OP’s post with my ramblings, I thought it better to make them a separate post.

We all know this shot of Duo in the first opening, and like many others I, too, have wondered why on Earth the American street urchin character would be sporting heraldic wolves on his jacket as though he’s European nobility.

They never show up in the series proper, just the opening. And there is absolutely nothing about Duo that could remotely relate him to nobility. He's pretty much the furthest thing from it.

...unless we count Deathscythe H's design, which does sport a strong romantic death theme. But that's about as European as Duo gets.

So what if this is the creators being cheeky and including it as a nod to his initial protagonist status before it was given to Heero? Because if Duo was the protagonist, that would mean he would have been Relena's foil, who is of royal blood. And then we would have had the same juxtaposition as this:

Oh, look, another orphan wearing fancy clothing.

But back to Duo. The precise term for what Duo has emblazoned on his jacket is a wolf rampant. Well, two actually. Would that make them combatant..?

When they're mirrored like that, you expect them to hold a shield. Like these two unicorns here:

Do you recognize it? It's Romefeller's crest. Romefeller has two white unicorns rampant on a red background while the guy who fights them gets two golden wolves rampant on a black background.

Wait a minute. White, red, gold, black?

Really?

Someone must have had a field trip with the designs.

Back to the wolves. According to Wikiwand, wolves in heraldry "typically symbolised the rewards of perseverance in long sieges or hard industry." A long siege is definitely what the colonists were going through. Doubly so regarding Duo's crappy childhood.

So is Duo really connected to wolves?

Well, here's a fun fact.

The wolf (French: loup) is often used for canting (meaning heraldic bearings that represent the bearer's name in a visual pun or rebus) by families whose names feature some variant of the word 'lou/wolf'. Examples include Videlou, de Lou, Lupus, Wolferston, Wolseley, Lovett, Lowe, Lovell, Lupton or Wolfe.

Lowe. As in, Odin Lowe. This dude:

Heero got cheated out of fancy wolf crests.

And here you have it. Before Heero stole Deathscythe's parts for Wing, Duo had gotten Heero's wolf crest. Then again, they would have been wasted on Heero's green tank top anyway, so good for Duo.

[moongothic]

It is kind of funny to think about how popular the Kuja Crocodile fan theory is when you take a step back and think about where that theory kinda originates from Now to be fair, I'm not 100% certain where the theory came from, I can only remember so much of what the fandom was theorizing back in 2008, so I may be speaking from my ass a little right now

But from what I do remember, back in Yee Olden Days, there was a lot of speculation about why the Strawhats got sent to their respective island by Kuma the way they did. A lot of people did notice how each island seemed meaningful one way or another to each Strawhat and tied into their characters except for Luffy, and everybody thought that was a bit odd. Mainly because we didn't fully know HOW Kuma's ability worked. Now, nearly two decades later, we DO know how Kuma's ability actually works; People don't magically travel to islands they have a secret connection to or anything, Kuma himself has to actively choose where he sends people off to, meaning Kuma looked at the Strawhats individually and picked out islands where he thought they'd be best off at. Luffy being sent to Amazon Lily is arguably no different; Kuma knew Luffy was the brother of the soon-to-be-executed Ace, but also a target of the WG (due to being Dragon's son). Amazon Lily was close enough to both Sabaody that Luffy would be able to return there relatively easily if he wished to, or he could try to befriend the Warlord Hancock, who was also being summoned to participate in Ace's execution, to hitch a ride from her to go and try to save his brother. The only challenge Luffy would have to overcome there was indeed befriending the Kuja, at least enough to be taken off from the island safely and alive.

But indeed, we only really know and can fully understand that now. Back in Yee Olden Days, the fans did just seem to think Kuma's ability might be a bit more mystical in nature, and thus people got really curious what Luffy's Secret Ties to the Kuja and Amazon Lily could possibly be. And naturally that lead to people speculating that maybe Luffy's mom was a Kuja. Because what other subconcious connection could Luffy possibly have to the island especially when it didn't seem like it would help him reach/achieve his dreams any faster either.

But then we get to Impel Down and Crocodile gets those transgenderism allegations thrown right in his handsome face (and people start shitposting about him being Luffy's other parent) And I think that might be where the streams crossed. People noted how Crocodile has his funny little reptile motif going on, and how the Kuja ""also have a reptile motif"", transgenderism allegations, badabing badaboom Crocodile could be a former Kuja, secret past SOLVED.

But the connection there is really weak though, isn't it? Especially when you considder that the Kuja don't really have a REPTILE theme going on with them. Yes, the snake motif is important to the Kuja, our beloved Hancock being The Snake Princess and the sisters having the Gorgon/Medusa (fake) backstory, but the animal motif is limited to just snakes, not reptiles as a whole (otherwise we could also speculate that Moria is a former Kuja because he's also named after a reptile). And more importantly, the Kuja have a big FLOWER theme going on for them, namely in, well, their names; each Kuja is named after some kind of flower/plant. Sure, Crocodile could have a secret deadname but we don't know if he does, there is no evidence to suggest either way (but also, depending on when you think he would have transitioned then him just being able to have a secret deadname is kind of up in the air (see: Crocodad timeline))

So if Kuma's ability doesn't have a magical way to send people to places they have ties to (whether the person knows it or not), and if Crocodile doesn't have any obvious, thematic connection to the Kuja, then the only reason people believe he could've been a Kuja is because... he might be trans. And... yeah. That's kind of a weak basis for a theory, isn't it

[mariemariemaria]

Does anybody else feel like mental health awareness has done very little to help them in material reality

[esteemed-excellency]

ok i'm almost done with the new firmament chapter, i have So Many thoughts 👀

[puppys-rhythm-heaven]

i am being so fucking autistic about a video game i've only played an hour and a half of and have absorbed like 99% of my information about through osmosis from my bestie(s. it's complicated) and fanfiction. catastrophic levels of autism. i can't stress this in words i don't think y'all understand. or care honestly sdflkjfdskdfsjsfdkj-

[deermouth]

https://deermouth.tumblr.com/tagged/you-let-us-in

[drop--pop--candy]

oh WOW every day i discover something new and worse

[fairene]

one of your girls / ln4

part one

lando norris x fem!reader

reader uses she/her pronouns, no use of y/n.

part two

you are just one of his girls. a frequent regular. but something changes, and you are his favorite.

a/n ⋯ how do i explain myself...? guess i can't! this will be divided into two parts for the sake of dramatics, and truthfully i can't contain my excitement to share this with you all. reader's dresses are left to be ambiguous for your imagination, only the cut of the dress is described (perhaps a color, once, but i forget); as usual, it is always up to YOU what you are wearing;) i will be focusing on requests before the next part comes out!

inspiration ⋯ VIDEO

warnings ⋯ SMUT / 18++ minors DNI!!! language, drunk hookup, choking (slight), oral(m!receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, overstimulation, feral lando. sickeningly in love lando, but not here; non monogamous (yet), insecure reader.

wc ⋯11.3k (unedited.)

your phone rang in from your bag, the vibration shocking you from your conference room in new york. you had been visiting there for your job, meeting with clients, and overall needing to schmooze the entire fucking office. you were sick of it at this point. 

and it was sunday, too. who works on a fucking sunday? you. because what’s life without the overtime pay? 

until you saw lando’s contact card lighting up your screen. you blushed, instantly, thinking of just how a week ago he had you laid out on his monaco penthouse, screaming and weeping his name while he fucked you rabidly. 

you answered, clearing your throat. 

“hello?” 

“i won! i won!” he shouted, the background noise of crowds drowning out the baritone of his voice. you raised a brow, but were quick to connect the dots. you’d been so busy with work that you’d forgotten that the race must’ve been over, you were only able to watch the beginning before you were swooped up into a meeting. 

your hand flew to cover your mouth as you stepped into your office, shutting the door. you couldn’t be loud, and tears began to welt in your eyes. “did you really?” 

“yes, yes! god, i’ve wanted this so bad…” he was absolutely full of rile and cheer. you could hear that from his voice clear as day. you were so happy for him. you wiped a stray tear that fell down your face and rolled to your chin. 

“i’m so happy for you, lan.” you breathed, laughing when your voice hitched with emotion. you knew that he caught it, letting out his own gasp at your retention. 

“you cryin’ for me?” he said your name, know damn well he had a cheeky smirk on his face. you scoffed, rolling your eyes and even he could hear the action. 

“shut up. let me be happy for you.” he laughed again, deep and rich, but relieved that you picked up the phone. it was hard for him to get your attention, though you felt vice versa. 

“let me be happy, then,” your brows raised at what he meant. “come to miami. tonight.”

you froze, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your work shirt. “lando…” you sighed. “you know i can’t…”

“please…!” he whined into the phone. 

your resilience to him was not good. clearly.

“call my boss.” you heard him yip and pop his lips. he was giddy and thrilled that you accepted his advances. it never did take much, though, did it? 

you hung up the phone before you could say anything else and settled back into your temporary station before you were back in monaco full time. the office here was more than sufficient and, you couldn’t help but thank god that you were here when lando called. the flight to miami wouldn’t be more than three hours. 

your boss knocked on the door a few minutes later with her brows raised. 

she spoke her name and you perked up. “you didn’t tell me you had family in miami,” she said, crossing her arms. but she wasn’t angry. 

“i do.” the lie was swift. but it wasn't really a lie, was it…?

“your cousin called me, said that you need to use pto hours for a wedding…” she looked at her apple watch. “which is in a few hours?” 

you gulped. “what can i say,” you shrugged, “i’m a workaholic.”

your boss shrugged, turning to leave. “take the week off, you deserve it.”

so this is what working so hard got you? damn. you practically leapt off your seat, packing away your laptop and other essentials you had brought to the office. when you were skipping down the steps of the building to the parking garage, you got a text. 

flight leaves 6

> one attachment 

it was lando. you opened the text as you were unlocking your door, realizing he sent you a boarding pass. he already filled out all your information. he wanted you there that bad, didn’t he? you wouldn’t even consider the two of you close friends rather than buddies who fuck. 

you hearted the message and raced home to pack. 

when you touched down in miami, there was a car waiting for you outside the airport. you were shocked with such lively treatment, but weren’t one to start complaining. the ride to lando’s hotel wasn’t very long, either, but it was beautiful. 

when you stepped out you were greeted by the miami breeze, refreshing from the stagnant air in your humid new york building. 

“thought you were gonna chicken out,” his voice was light and airy. you were so dazed by the grandeur of the building that you didn’t see lando standing there at the entrance. you immediately gaped at him, embarrassed that you were caught off guard. 

“on what, this? luxury? be for real!” you stifled a laugh. he held out his hand for your bag, and you gave it to him. but it was really meant for your hand. 

his other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. he peppered light kisses to your neck, but not your mouth. your relationship wasn’t intimate like that, it never was. kissing was the next step to love, you told him, and you never reached for his lips with the amount of times you’ve fucked. 

but he did. 

there was always something about your aura that allured him. it drew him in like a moth to flame, and he would happily burn if it meant being in your presence. but he wasn’t ready for a relationship, so he told himself, and neither were you…so you told yourself. 

yet you’ve explored each other’s bodies like vestigios conquerors. you knew what made him tick, he knew what made you squirm. it was a fair trade, you thought, and you had no intention of staying exclusive to him. 

but you’d make it known to him that when you were both together, there were no other girls around. no boys. it would be just the two of you in your own world, but it was on a time limit. 

your hand found the back of his neck, leaning into his lips, but you pulled back when you heard some whispering– paparazzi. 

you said nothing as you shifted past him, ripping his head from your neck. he looked confused before he glanced towards the growing crowd around the hotel entrance, some phones being whipped out to record. but he honestly didn’t give a fuck. 

but you did. the last thing you wanted was to be plastered as a whore all over your feed. you still needed your fucking job. 

“what,” he said, coming closer to you. you took a distancing step back. he came closer. you didn’t move this time. “you didn’t miss me?”

him and his fucking ego. 

but you did. 

“want me to show you?” you spun around, full of sass. he let out a light laugh, pressing his shoulders back and straightening his posture. little to your knowledge, he was rendered speechless and his dick tightened in his pants. blood flooded to his abdomen, which had him shifting on his feet. this fucking girl. 

“come on,” you cooed, nudging his arm. “i came here to celebrate, no? and you haven’t even bought me a drink yet!” you got him there. he nodded, quickling showing you up to his hotel room in miami. it was a beautiful room with a living room and a single bedroom with a king bed. 

when you were up there you got a good look, running your hands over the fabric of the couch and the untouched champagne sitting on the coffee table. “this doesn’t count,” you picked up the bottle, turning to face lando from where he stood, placing your luggage on an armchair. 

“what? not expensive enough for you?” you rolled your eyes at him, placing the bottle back down on the platter with the glasses. you made haste opening your suitcase, rummaging through the outfits you brought for the duration of your stay, and in particular, your dress. 

you pulled out the carefully folded fabric. you held it out in front of you, impressed by the lack of wrinkles, and turned to lando. 

his jaw fell agape, staring at the magnificent piece. it was a longer dress that went to your mid calf, and sparkled in the dim lights of the room. he moved closer to you, running his fingers over the fabric. you gulped in his presence. 

“shit,” he sighed out, followed by a laugh. “better put it on now.” you raised a brow at him, confused. “else we won’t make it out that fuckin’ door.” 

you stifled a giggle and ran towards the bathroom, changing quickly. 

there was a knock at the front door when you were just finishing up your look. lando answered when you peeked your head out of the archway to the bathroom. it was carlos. 

“ready yet, mate?” 

lando shrugged, moving out the way so carlos could make eye contact with you. he said your name with a cheer, brushing past lando to wrap his arms around you. he kissed both your cheeks in greeting, you returned it. lando hummed to himself, wondering what that kind of affection was like from you. guess he’d never know, huh? too intimate, the words rang in his head. 

fuck off. 

“you flew today?” carlos asked you. you nodded. 

“had to celebrate, didn’t i?” you let out a giggle, covering your stained lips when you glanced at lando who was focused elsewhere, his jaw clenching. it had your joy dying in your throat, suddenly feeling like there wasn’t any reason to smile at all. 

“of course!” carlos cheered, slapping lando on the back which had him falling back to earth. “can’t believe he finally did it.” lando’s first ever formula one win was an astronomical achievement. you wish you could’ve been there in person. 

“neither can i…” your voice trailed when you were focused on his freckled face. a constellation, you called it, and could lose yourself in counting them. and lando was looking at you and your beautiful face. he was addicted to you, he learned, and no girl could fuck him like you could. 

carlos glanced between the two of you and raised his brows. “right, then.” he cleared his throat. “let’s get going then, yeah? got the whole grid celebrating you, lando!”

you were quick to put on your heels and grab your clutch. lando waited by the door for you, holding the door open. 

when you brushed by him, he grabbed your arm and twisted you around. he pushed his head close to your chest, which had you flushing. 

“lando!” you scolded beneath your breath. 

“you smell like me,” he raised a brow. 

shit. you thought he wouldn’t notice. “grabbed your cologne on accident. was rushing…replaced it with mine, see?” you raised your wrist for him to smell and he did, nose brushing against your sensitive skin. your veins pumped just beneath a thin layer. you felt him inhale and you had shivers running up your spine. he glanced at you again, dropping your hand. 

“think mine’s better.”

he meant it. you smelling just like him had him on fucking edge. he didn’t understand why it mattered to him to such a high degree. the primal inclination soaring right over his head, but he knew you were his for the night. longer he would wish, but he would take anything he could get from you. 

you only rolled your eyes at him, proceeding to walk down the hall. he caught up with you, hand coming to your lower back to guide you. when you made it to the elevator, he stuck his head into your neck again, breath hot as it fanned against your skin. you leaned into him, but stomped your heeled foot. 

“lando…” 

he grumbled something inaudible. 

“speak, won’t you?” you gripped his chin, pulling him upward. 

“driving me fuckin’ crazy.”

your breath caught in your throat. he was always touchy, but it was never this intense. the way he grumbled against the skin of your throat, the needy vibrations which plucked deeply at the strings of your heart. but there shouldn’t be any of your heart involved.

“you’re just a madman, then.” 

he chuckled. “gonna lock me up?” 

if only, you wanted to say, but held your tongue. 

“papaya does look good on you.” you giggled, hand roaming his chest. but you were right about his madness. he was sickeningly crazy. he should be institutionalized, even, in the comfort of your home. what a hell that would be, wouldn’t it?

the drive to the club was short. it wasn’t very far from the hotel. the inside of his expensive mclaren had you dazzled, though it wasn’t really his, just a rental whilst he was in miami. still, your fingers found the pleasure of finding the leather that boarded the doors, wondering just how much leather you could adorn as decoration. 

lando, on the other hand, was white knuckling the steering wheel the entire time, debating whether or not his hand would find a good home on the skin of your thigh. your dress had been too long for that, though, and he didn’t…fuck, he didn’t even know. he was anxious to be with you this weekend, not hesitating to call you to be the first one to come down to congratulate him.

he had so many other girls. why did he choose you? he didn’t know it himself, wasn’t sure if he was ready to face such intense truths, but his heart led him astray dialing your phone number. he didn’t even hesitate nor want to connect with another girl, just you. 

fucking hell, and you looked heavenly in that dress. he would spend the entire fucking night shifting his pants to hide his stark boner from your eyes. 

rolling up to the club, he gave his keys to the valet and you stepped out, fixing the fabric of your scrunched dress. you made your way over to him, elegant as ever, when the cameras began to flash. the amount of attention frightened you, and your phone fell to the ground. it clattered against the pavement. 

lando reached down smoothly to pick it up for you, his movements lingering for a moment. when he rose, his hand grazed the back of your exposed calf, trailing up your body to rest on the fabric of your lower back, the top of your ass. you wanted to swat his hand away teasingly, but for the night…you’d allow it. the cameras flashed more and more. lando only separated from you to take a few selfies with fans, but that had been it. 

his hand found your back once more, pulling the fabric down that was scrunched at the back. he also did it as an excuse to rest his hand on your ass. guilty!

and you let him. more cameras flashed. he was yours for the evening. so you’d relish in the momentary fame, but would surely be horrified by the comments the next morning. but fuck it, you looked hot in this dress and wouldn’t let these heels go to waste. let them envy you, for you were surely going to envy the next girl on his arm. what? no you weren’t. that thought was fleeting. you were shocked that you imagined of such a scenario. 

inside the club was an ambiance of celebratory cadence. it was lively. the bright lights, cheering on goers. everyone seemed to swarm lando, congratulating him and patting him on the back. he was so happy here. 

you attempted to shimmy out of the limelight to give him the attention he deserved, but he tightened his hold on you, digging his fingertips into your waist. you were surprised, looking at him with confusion, but he didn’t even take his eyes off of one of the mclaren engineers who attended the festivities. 

playing arm candy wasn’t your specialty, but you had the basics down. smile and laugh. straight posture. being fucking perfect. easy stuff, you know? surely sitting in an office chair for your day to day would enthuse a straight spine. surely listening to your old, ratty coworkers jokes would have you rolling with laughter and smiles. surely it was the easiest thing in the world to be perfect for lando norris–

your name was called by a girl at your side. it was alexandra!

you gasped, swinging out of lando’s arms and throwing yourself into her. she caught you, looking absolutely elegant while doing it, and smiled into your hair. 

“thank god you’re here!” you cheered, your hands landing on her shoulders to steady yourself. she looked stunning this evening. but she always did. you envied her for that much. 

“of course!” her french accent was sweet and endearing. her voice was even softer. “none of us would miss it. i’m glad you’re here!” 

alexandra and you had grown a relationship over the past few years you’ve been acquainted with lando. she seemed to always be where you were, and by coincidence, the two of you followed each other on tiktok and realized you had, if not, the same humor. you began messaging each other back and forth, and there you had it– a beautiful friendship between the two of you. being long distance best friends was hard, but it was times like these that you were grateful to see her. 

lando had froze when he felt you slip from his grasp, a horrible feeling of incomprehensible dread washing over him that he couldn’t pinpoint why. he interrupted the conversation he was having to see you with your arms wrapped around alexandra, kissing both of her cheeks. his face flushed, hand tightening on the drink he was given by his mates. 

why not him? 

lando excused himself and clung to your side. you jumped at the feeling of his hand around your waist, eyes snapping up to meet his… irritated ones? you were at a loss as to what could warrant such a look, but you didn’t let it linger when you shifted closer to him, your hips against his thighs. he seemed to relax both his body and face, giving alexandra a smile.

she was amidst congratulating him when charles and carlos approached. rebecca at carlos’ side. 

“is this a party or…?” charles remarked, luring you all to the center of the room to dance. lando glanced at you. you could feel his eyes, but you didn’t meet them. not yet. you thought that if you had, you wouldn’t be able to stop tonight. not with how good he looked, not with how he smelled. 

on the dance floor was no better. his hands were all over you. it was a bittersweet homecoming to feel so close to you, so flustered. but you loved the way he made you feel. pure adrenaline. alive. your hips swayed and grinded into his own, him matching your pace with a drink in his hand. there had been one in yours too, but you downed it already. 

at one point when the beat dropped, they all began to shout his name. you included. his cheeky little smile had him muster the courage to down his drink, emptying the large glass. whoops and hollers filled the club, and there were no more words to describe how magical this night was for him. he would remember it forever, and you couldn’t blame him. 

he was magnificent in the spotlight. with a charming tongue, funny jokes, and charisma that had him swooping up any girl he could want. there were a pack of women surrounding him before he pulled you by the arm, interrupting your conversation with alexandra, twirling you to be plastered against his side. the women’s attention didn’t last long after that. 

“cheeky, aren’t you?” you raised your lips to his ears, daring to lay one against the top of his throat. you felt him swallow, his adams apple thick and bobbing. 

“don’t like to be a cornered animal.” you knew it was meant to be a joke, but there was a layer of truth to it that you couldn’t ignore. lando didn’t do well in crowds without flustering with anxiety. to that truth about him, you could toast to. 

you were back on the floor with him in a matter of minutes, engaging in conversation with alexandra and charles. lando was talking to others as well, but he was firm against your back, hand on your stomach. the action had you blushing, unable to forget any time that he’d lay his hands there, asking if you could feel him. and you could. now, you could feel the imprint of his cock behind you. you didn’t know how he could last this long without asking you to fuck him in the bathroom, but you weren’t complaining. 

yet!

steadily as the night progressed, he would be laced with sweat and the smell of him. a mix of body odor, sure, it smelt like lando. your lando for the night. he flashed you a smile as he leaned over your body from behind, both hands gripping your hips against him. 

you returned the gesture, but were much more bashful than he anticipated. you were giving him that look. a look that he had become trained to respond to. his dick instantly hardened. pavlov was onto something, wasn’t he? 

you both had been there for hours. you could only handle so many more amped up bass drops. and you were both plastered enough. it was around four in the morning when you were tumbling out, giggling and laughing at who knows what. 

one of the valet club drivers even drove the both of you back to the hotel. neither of you are in the state to drive. 

in the car, one of your legs was atop his, slotted between his thighs. you could feel his pulsing cock and your mouth watered at the sensation. he was staring at you through dangerously dark eyes, reflecting back your own stare of desire. it was like looking in a mirror for the both of you. ravaging and desperate to have one another’s hands on each other’s bodies. 

lando took liberty and lowered his head to your exposed shoulder, pulling down a thin strap of your dress to your bicep. he kissed the skin tenderly, an action too intimate for your own good, but you were too fucking drunk to deny it. 

“fucking beautiful,” he muttered into your skin, quiet for only your ears to touch. you let your fingers trace up the side of his face lazily, feeling your gaze spinning beneath his tender words. 

“i’m proud of you,” you whispered, brushing a stray curl from his sticky forehead up into the rest of his hairs. “you know that, don’t you?” 

your voice had been tender. delicious to his drunken ears. though he knew he’d remember this sober– he had a feeling. how could he forget that tone of voice, your gentle touch, clearly breaking the bounds of what was too intimate.

he gulped, eyes flaring wide at your declaration. his hand found your thighs then, gripping the soft flesh with depth. 

your fingers traced down to his bottom lip, puckering the flesh, but dropped to the car seat with a laugh. you brushed off his shocked expression, leaning back into the cool leather. but his grip didn’t relent. he kept his eyes on you, too, unable to find something else to fixate on. you were the object of all of his desires. he confirmed it then when he was desperate to hear more of your unsolicited praises from your lips. 

he craved your lips. 

lando’s head dropped to your waist, his face nuzzling into your soft flesh. he kissed through the fabric of your dress, desperate to feel you beneath such a guarding sheath from your skin. you turned your head to look at him from where your gaze latched to the window, your hand rolling down the curve of his neck. 

you kept your hand there for the remainder of the drive, but didn’t look down at him. you knew you’d be face with those desperate, glistening green eyes of his. you’d fall weak beneath the light of his love, and you’d find yourself disappointed when he didn’t want what you did. a relationship, dare you think it just for one second. 

the valet driver dropped the two of you off and was able to manage a cab on his own back to the club. lando tipped him a hundred euros for his time, beginning to sober himself enough to walk in a straight line and speak without slurring his speech. 

you were the same. stretching your legs from the car, hands above your head in a dramatic feline stretch. lando’s eyes were on you the entire time, gaping at your figure. your ass. his lip caught between his teeth, and you caught him ogling. 

your hips began to sway beneath the music of his eyes. you’re unable to resist his humorous allure, crumbling the second the second the corner of his eyes uplifted. a smile followed, his gapped, perfect, teeth shimmering the reflections of the pale moonlight. 

he stretched out his arm for you to join him at his side. you sashayed there, twirling in your heels that ached your feet. but you did it for him. you’d do it all, though the alcohol was driving your thoughts. 

lando swooped you into his grasp, wrapping his arms around your waist and digging his fingertips into your hips. you laughed amicably, his presence both a comfort and a feat of pride. 

you mustered the strength to break his hold, trotting up the steps of the hotel. your heels were loud in the quiet, tender moments of the rising miami sun, and your giggles even more so. lando wasn’t far behind, skipping the steps to catch up with you. 

you’d never seen him hit an elevator button harder. you resisted the urge to laugh, knowing it was an impossible situation to be so loud at dawn. so you bit your fist in your mouth, choking down a sound that lando yearned to hear. 

when the elevator arrived he jumped right in, dragging you along– though it’s not like you hesitated– by your elbow. 

he immediately began trailing kisses down your throat, the column of your neck, your collarbones, shoulders. he left no place untouched by his devout, worshipping lips. he’d often say in the heat of the moment that you were the best thing he’s ever tasted– a man feral for your sweet nectar– but you just thought it to be the post-euphoria sex high. 

the british driver muttered something into your neck which had your eyes flaring wide, uncertain if you heard him correctly. 

you pushed his head back, gripping at the curls near the base of his neck. “what did you say?”

he looked flushed. embarrassed. he choked on his words, shaking his head. he was clearly brushing it off. 

“nothin’.”

he resumed devouring your neck, saliva dripping onto your dress, but his words bubbled. 

the ding of the elevator alerted both of you. he was the one to lead the way to his hotel room, swiftly opening the door with skilled ease, and had you against the wall in minutes. he gripped at the fabric of your dress, tempting to rip it. you hissed with contempt. “don’t,” he looked up at you with heavy eyes and a half toothed smirk, challenging you. “too expensive.” 

you felt him scoff against the skin of your chest. “‘too expensive.’” he mocked. 

but he heeded your words, gentle with how he lowered the straps to your forearms. your head lolled against the wall, eyes glistening with liquidated pleasure. there was nothing better in the world that could feel better than lando norris’ lips against your skin. each press was a blessing, a kiss of life, hungry for the divination you relented this evening. 

“so fucking beautiful,” he breathed when he shimmied you out of the dress, neatly undoing the zipper. you wore nothing under the dress besides panties, which had his eyes gawking at your taut, perked nipples. you shifted forward, desperate for his touch on your suddenly cold body. 

lando didn’t wait. his cock was already painfully hard in his pants, punishing the fabric for being so restrictive. he pulsated, precum already ruining the pair. 

his lips found your nipple, other palm fisting the firm flesh. you let out a sweet moan that was delicious to his starving ears, your hips bucking into his for a relenting yearn for release. he let out the deepest chuckle from his throat, finding such impending amusement for your desire. 

when he was contempt with the titillation of your nipples, he moved to the skin of your belly, biting softly at the skin. enough to leave bruises for his own eyes when he’d see you next. next. there was always a next with you. 

but you had other plans. 

your hands reached for his face, pulling him to meet your eyes. his own blew wide, flickering to your lips, to your eyes. 

“let me,” you whimpered, reaching for the buckle of his pants. he’d stop you, usually intending on getting you off with his lips or tongue before he could even cum. but tonight, he couldn’t resist your lips. you looked up at him with pure heaven written in your iris’. 

he swallowed before nodding his head rapidly, his forehead leaning into yours. “yeah, yeah, please.” 

lando norris wasn’t a man to beg. he didn’t have to do any of that shit for his other girls– they were always eager to please him, fuck him, suck him off– but for you…

your lips found his neck, feeling the thick muscles with your tongue. it was arousing how muscular each part of his body was, thundering with endurance. 

there was a soft mewl in his throat when you slid your hand down the front of his pants, beneath his briefs, over the length of his cock. the sound excited you tenfold– wishing that you could hear it a hundred times over again. it was addicting how he wanted you. 

when your finger grazed his tip, his hips bucked instinctively into you, just how yours had. he cursed under his breath, letting his head fall limp into the crevice of your neck. 

you laughed into his skin, finally falling to your knees to drop his pants and briefs. his cock sprung free, red and vibrating for your touch. your touch. you often wondered how his other girls treated him. if you were better, if you were the worst. obviously not the worst if he was the one to call you after his first win, right?

one hand stroked his length, traveling to his balls, simultaneously glancing up at him. he was staring down at you, riddled with urgency, a pleading look reflecting in your eyes. his bottom lip caught between his teeth when his hand found the back of your head, stroking the sides of your face. 

his thumb caressed your bottom lip. it caused your lips to open for him, and his thumb found your tongue. you swirled it around the pad of his finger, never breaking the shared look between you two. you let him go with a pop, and he found his hand at the base of your neck again, hand wrapping a makeshift ponytail with his hand. 

your lips swirled around the head of his cock, swallowing the precum that dampened his briefs. he held back a rumble in his throat which annoyed you, so you took him wide in your mouth, bottoming him out in the back of your throat. 

your cunt clenched around nothing when his whole body sang in praise of your lips. he faltered when you began a steady pace of back and forth, stimulating his balls with your other hand. curses fell from his lips, sinful words, and he gripped your hair tightly. with his other one, he fell forward against the wall, bracing for dear life.

but you didn’t relent. faster and faster you went, and you were awarded by his hips snapping into you, cock gagging your windpipe. you choked, tears forming in your eyes, but it was divine how satisfying it was. to see his eyes rolling back into his head, hands shaking, desperate to feel you up. from this position, below him, you could see the entire world. you had it all on the tip of your tongue. 

“fuck, baby…” he groaned. you felt so good around him. warm and tight. it felt like fucking home for him. somewhere he’d always come back to. and he would. no other girl could make him feel this way, had him about to cum in a matter of three minutes. your lips were made to take his cock, and he would yell that to hell and back for the entire world to know. 

he felt you moan against his cock, the sound echoing in your throat. he swallowed harshly, drool dripping down the side of his chin at the sight of you alone. you were perfect. 

and when your hand came to run over your nipples, kneading at the skin of your breasts, he felt his abdomen tighten. you found so much pleasure in sucking him off that you felt the need to touch yourself. fuck, he never thought he’d see something so hot in his entire life. 

he knew he’d been done for in a matter of seconds. with a firm grip of your hair, he pulled you back from his cock. you looked offended, disappointed when the drool from your lips trailed down your chin. 

“not yet,” he uttered, gripping the side of your face with his other hand. his cock was angry, furious at the lack of attention. he was practically fucking edging himself. “wanna cum inside you.” 

say less, you wished to say, but all that came out from your lips was a whine. 

and then you were laid out on your back on his bed. the white sheets were clean and made, cold beneath your scorching skin. 

lando traced two fingers up your thigh, the junction of your hips, your waist. you shivered, toes clenching at the sensation. then to your naval, your pussy, your dampened underwear. a ruined pair, no doubt. he smirked, lip curling. 

“all for me, huh?” 

you nodded instantly. 

his hand slapped against your flushed pussy. you whimpered, grasping at the sheets. 

“words, pretty girl.”

“yes!” you gasped when you felt him tug the underwear down your legs. “you, you, you, lando. all you.”

he practically purred. your folds were swollen and glistening, drenched from how his cock pounded into your mouth. “so wet,” he observed, twisting his fingers to trail up your slit, gathering the slick between his fingers. he raised the pair to his mouth, tasting your sweet juice on his tongue. your legs pulsed together, eager for friction, a quiet mewl leaving your throat at the sight. “tastes like heaven.”

“lando…” you were getting impatient now. rightfully so. he stood there with his hardened cock, teasing you with his firm fingers. 

“what’dya want, baby? hm?” he asked, knowing damn well what the answer would be. yet he’d trace his hands gently up the sides of your body, fingers dancing over your nipples. you writhed. 

“you.” you said endearingly. “fuck me, lan, please.” 

he was so impressed with your manners that he couldn’t resist slipping his cock inside of you. atop of you he caged you in, a blessed enclosure, lips pressing to your exposed chest. you whined at the initial stretch, always finding yourself so tight around his thick cock. 

“fuck, lando.” you hissed, teeth clenching at his immaculate girth. it was a pleasurable burn, and your arousal only had you clenching around him. he huffed through his nose, hot hair breathing over your skin. 

“i know, baby,” he reassured you with his bittersweet voice. “y’can take me, can’t you? always such a good girl for me.” 

you whined at his words, low moan bellowing in your throat. you squelched with your slick and he could feel it. he smirked, having the gall to chuckle, even. but you didn’t punish him for it, especially not when he began to move his hips back and forth, a pair of fingers coming to rub against the bundle of nerves placatated at your clit. 

the sensation of feeling him slip in and out of you was impeccable. you could find no other pleasure than his cock nestled inside of you, filling you to the absolute hilt of your dreams. the imprint of his dick had him riled with lust when it ran over your lower belly. 

“feel me here,” his hand came to grab yours, bringing it to the imprint of his cock inside of you. “don’t you?” 

you nodded, lip catching between your teeth and opposite hand threading through his curls as if you were a needle and thread. “so good, lando, please. keep going.” 

and he did. if you asked him to do anything right now, he would’ve. the slapping of skin echoed in the hotel room, filling silence with vulgar sounds from both of your lips. lando was a moaning mess at the pulses of your cunt, intent on sucking him dry from his cum. and he was an expert at navigating your clit, pinching and swirling the rough pads of his fingers. 

your eyes rolled in the back of his head when you bucked your hips for a better angle. “deeper,” you said, finding a grim satisfaction at the thought of him splitting you open. 

his eyes flashed to yours, bloodshot and red with lust, and shifted so your thighs were over his shoulders. your back arched for him and he was pleased to see your receptiveness. his hips didn’t falter, and neither did his hands. 

this angle had been more than what any gospel could provide. more than any destiny written out for you. fucking him was written in the stars, you knew it for certain, and you blossomed into a glistening constellation before him. for he was the entire universe for you, and you just a mere fractal in the midst of it all. 

but oh, how that wasn’t true. how you were the sun in which he orbited, woke up and thought of. you were the first person that he called after his father, needing your presence with him in miami. he needed this. your cunt. your pleasures, your moans. you, it was on the tip of his tongue, edging its way forward through the kisses he laid upon your neck. 

you were drenched in his saliva, coated in the thick musk of lando norris. he would never say it aloud but he dreamed of the day to see his cum dripping down your thighs, full of him, the remnants of your love affair sticky and haughty with each step that you’d take. 

it was a primal instinct that became so vicious. it overtook him, thwarting him into a dick-measuring contest whenever you went out with him. he’d keep you close. his, the message would be clear. no man would approach you when he had his hand on your lower back, your hips in his hands, your pelvis grinding against his own. you were his own keepsake. the light at the end of the tunnel. a brazen warrior that he’d follow into any battle. 

the only battle he was intending on winning was the war of your heart, blessed be his troops. 

it only took a few more harsh thrusts of his cock and twiddling of his fingers before you were painfully close to a release. he could feel it. he knew it like the back of his hand. your trembling legs, intense writhing against his hold, your breathy moans. he wished he could take a picture of you, flushed and desperate, and keep it in his wallet. 

“come on, baby.” he urged, feeling the own heat of his orgasm rising in his lower stomach. he had been resisting the urge to cum for your sake, always finding a deeper satisfaction in seeing your overstimulated face after the fact. 

“come for me, won’t you? pretty thing. i’ve got you,” the words of praise that were only meant for you. he didn’t call any of his other girls ‘baby’, but you wouldn’t know that. you couldn’t know. it would ruin all of this, wouldn’t it? wouldn’t it? 

i’ve got you, he said tenderly. it’s what had you compulsing, drenching his cock in your slick. your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in the euphoria of what was lando norris’ pleasure. 

he was staring at your worn out face, his own tongue coming to swipe at his bottom lip. he was ready to feast on you. 

lando’s own orgasm was swift to follow. the rhythm of his hips faltered, sloppily, aggressively. the overstimulation against the walls of your cunt was delectable. 

“come for me,” you begged him. it had his eyes flaring once more, shocked to hear such a request from your pretty lips. “inside me, lan, need it…” 

“fuck…” he groaned, and with one last snap of his hips he was spilling out inside of you. his forehead fell into the crook of your neck, breathing heavily. your chests moved in unison, catching your breaths after such an intense fuck. 

you were sticky against him. his body fell atop of yours, and your hands wrapped around his back. one hand came to run up and down his neck again, which had his eyes fluttering with sleep. but he didn’t let himself, and instead moved to get a towel for you both.

he slipped outside of you, the warmth of your cunt had his expression falling. he saw your face, too, empty once he made his way to the on suite. he grabbed a handheld towel and ran it under the warm water, and crossed the space between the bathroom and the bed. 

lando let it run up your thighs, between your legs. your cunt was swollen still, his cum thick and dripping from your slit. he smirked to himself, cleaning the remnants of himself from the immediate vicinity, but wouldn’t go further. 

you were aware. entirely too aware of how warm you felt. how filled you were. it was filthy how good sex with him was. you could never orgasm with any man but him. 

lando fell to the bed beside you, opening the sheet for you to slip in beside him. you hesitated, never having spent an entire night with him, except for a few drunk evenings. did this count? you weren’t sure. you’d certainly remember that mind blowing orgasm. 

but his eyes were drooping with sleep, weary when you hesitated. you couldn’t resist, and slid in beside him, comforted by the furnace of his body. 

lando’s head found home, once more, in the side of your neck. you brushed the hairs from his sweating forehead, roamed through his scalp. you ran circles through his hair until you heard the soft snores coming from him. it only took a few seconds for him to fall asleep in your arms and for once, you were perfectly content with that. if this was what your life would be, then so be it. 

the british driver woke approximately twenty four hours later. 

when he woke, you were not there. 

he was startled as he searched for you, but there was no sign of you. he sat up in his bed, sun peeking in through the curtains. he rubbed his eyes, hand resting on the spot that you had laid in. there was an imprint from your body. 

when he checked his phone, he knew he was in deep shit. 

“fuck.” it really had been a full day that he slept through.

but there were no texts from you. 

his gut tightened, heart beating loudly in his throat. why are there no texts from you? 

he scanned the room to find a glass of water on the nightstand, previously iced from the ring of water around the side of it. and there was a note, too, with some ibuprofen. he picked it up. 

had a good night

proud of you always

text me when you’re up x

and it was signed by you. 

he folded the piece of paper.

he supposed it was a good night. the best sex he’s ever had, in fact, and wouldn’t forget his own confession in the elevator. he wasn’t sure if you heard it or not, but there was a part of him that wanted you to. 

“you were always my favorite,” he spoke into the column of your neck. 

the next time you saw lando was in monaco. 

you were back home and invited by alexandra to the paddocks for the home race of charles. you accepted, of course, hoping to catch a glimpse of lando. 

you hadn’t texted him much, but neither had he. you heard first from him on that tuesday morning and it had you smiling at the airport, bags in hand. you texted back, and it was sporadic from there on out. it’s been a few days since either of you’ve said a word, and it was beginning to wane on you. 

alexandra repeated your name. 

“yeah?” you responded, head snapping towards her direction. 

“i asked if you were feeling alright.” 

“oh.” you breathed, laughing it off. “of course, do i not seem okay?” alexandra shook her head, petting leo’s little head in her hands. 

“you’ve been quiet, that’s all.” 

and you had been. but since she noticed, you were determined to make her forget about it. 

“nervous for charles,” you lied. but alexandra bought it and agreed with you, shedding her anxieties for her boyfriend’s home race. 

you were standing on the balcony with her in ferrari’s hospitality. you looked elegant today, matching alexandra’s own vibe. your hands were clasped together as you were leaning down, watching the drivers go in and out for their free practice. 

alexandra was still ranting about how nervous she was for charles when you saw him.

the papaya was noticeable from anywhere. 

lando

lando and company. 

a girl trailing behind him. her hair was done neatly, blonde, painfully thin. you grimaced against your will, face scrunching with a bitterness you had never felt before. 

alexandra tapped your elbow before she looked down at what you were staring at. 

“asshole.” she remarked, scoffing. 

you raised a brow. “you think so?”

alexandra nodded as if it was obvious. “don’t know why he brings them around,” she sighed. “not when he could have you.” 

you never felt so flattered before. you blushed, thanking her for saying something so kind. though you denied having feelings for him. she knew it was a lie this time. 

lando glanced up at the balcony, finding your eyes inevitably. he could feel your stare at the back of his head. 

and he fucking waved. 

the girl beside him looked up, too, but she did not. 

you could see lando’s smile from up here, but in your intensive bitterness, you did not wave back. you stood and turned to go back into ferrari’s hospitality, not thinking twice about your decision. 

the rest of the weekend you spent in bitter earnest. you’ve never seen yourself in such a state. but you plastered on a smile for alexandra and charles, entirely too elated when he crossed the finish line first in monaco. you held her as she weeped with joy. 

and, of course, you were invited to the festivities for the evening. your attitude was soured by the girl latched to lando’s arm throughout the entire weekend. but he looked so nonchalant with her, careless. none of it mattered. you’d put on your best dress for the evening. 

in the club you were found nursing a martini in your hand, not quaint on the taste, but were keen on getting wasted. you didn’t want to deal with whatever shit storm of emotions were brewing inside of your head. seeing lando with another girl was not new for you to witness. it was the norm, in fact, and you never thought about it otherwise.

but something changed that night of his win in miami. you knew it. he knew it. the words he uttered into your neck in that elevator was sending you up the wall and skyrocketing into the abyss of the universe. and you believe that somehow, he would find you.

he would find you. 

lando saw you instantly when you entered with alexandra and charles. rebecca and carlos paired together, too, leaving you the odd one out with no arm candy on display. good, the thought was impulsive. 

the girl beside him was giggling at something he said. but it wasn’t meant as a joke. he was convinced that she just had no idea what he was talking about, and was eager for a good fuck from him. he knew his skills of pleasure were not in comparison to any low life dude, but no girl could fulfill the void of receptiveness. of yearning desire. 

so when he tilted his head back to down the rest of his drink, he grimaced at the taste, and turned back to the girl he brought with him. but he kept stealing glances at you in your short dress. it was like you were punishing him– were you? he suddenly felt like a dog, a bad boy, reared and chained to the dog house outside your house of a heart. 

but you didn’t see him. not for a while, actually. you were intent on staying true to your morals– staying away from him this evening. he only brought trouble for you. confusion. you were sick of this back and forth, and most importantly, this rotten feeling of jealousy. it wasn’t a good look on you, or so you thought. 

“dance with me?” alexandra asked you. you accepted, of course, grabbing her hand and holding it high above the crowds as she led you to the dance floor. you were both twirling and laughing with your drinks in hand, purely electric with the rap music. charles joined her, gripping her from behind. you couldn’t help but watch, gulping down the feeling of envy. 

alexandra noticed. she knew what you were going through, even if you wouldn’t say it aloud. your ‘relationship’ with lando has gone on for far too long without any real commitment. everyone knew he was your favorite girl to be around, except you. you were the only one, apparently, who didn’t know that lando looked at you like a goddess reincarnate. 

and when you shook off your thoughts of envy, your eyes found another pair staring back at you.

sharp emeralds, piercing through the musk of the club.

your breath hitched, catching solemnly in your throat. 

the blonde was grinding up against him, throwing her head back against his shoulders. one hand was on her hip, the other with an empty shot glass in his hand. the girl was enjoying herself, at least, and you wondered if he fucked her the same as he did you. 

his eyes didn’t leave yours as his hips swayed in motion with hers. his hair was disheveled, a coat of sweat gleaning on his forehead. 

the pair of you were waiting to see who would break first. who would succumb to the challenge. you wanted so desperately to win, to grab another random man and kiss on his neck, but you were detested. 

the air inside the club felt heavy, and the world would collapse on you. the weight was too much on your shoulders as you became lightheaded. 

“i need air,” you said to alexandra before you fled from the dance floor, leaving your glass on the counter. 

the air of monaco was brisk when it pierced your skin, your thighs, your shoulders. but it was a much needed refreshment from the confines of that fucking club. you felt nauseous, sickened by lando’s eye contact with you. how dare he. 

you looked around before turning the corner of the club, seeing a pair of men smoking a cigarette. 

“care to share?” 

the men glanced at one another and the one holding the pack nodded. he handed you one and you placed it to your lips. he held out the lighter, too, and lit it for you. 

you weren’t one to smoke. it was a drunk cigarette kind of night. 

they insisted on you staying with them, talking each other up to be some pair of scrouges who deserved your attention. you politely declined their advances and walked the other way, feeling colder when the tobacco hit your lungs. 

when you blew out your first puff, it wasn’t long before the cigarette was ripped from your lips. 

“hey–” 

“this shit isn’t good for you.” 

lando.

he found you out here. rather, he chased you out. the minute he saw you turn your back he scrambled, pushing past every person that came in his way.

you scoffed, unable to look at him as you crossed your arms. 

“you don’t know what’s good for me.”

he paused, sucking in a tight breath. his jaw clenched. the cigarette was thrown to the ground, crushed beneath his foot. 

“rude–” you uttered, cut off when he grabbed your elbow. that had you looking at him. and his expression didn’t disappoint.

his eyes were widened, pupils blown wide as he looked into your own. his lip trembled momentarily, jaw entirely too tight for his own good. 

“what’s going on with you?” he wondered, holding eye contact with you. 

“nothing.” you answered instantly, brushing him off. but he didn’t accept that. 

“‘nothing,’” he mocked. “you’re not a very good liar.” 

you hummed. “thanks.” 

the conversation widdled down, but he wasn’t about to give up. 

“tell me,” he requested, his face pulling closer to yours. you had to give it to him. he was determined. but you were too.

“there’s nothing to tell.” you bit back. 

“i care about you. come on–” your name fell sweetly from his lips. he was prepared to grovel at any second now. 

but you cut him off. “ohhh…! yeah, right, you care? pfft, no need to pretend, lando.” 

he pulled back, shocked that you got in his face. your words were cruel, but he felt the double meaning behind them. 

“what?” he asked, softly. you knew then that he was hurt. 

but jealousy was a monster.

“i wish i was as stupid as you think i am.” you rambled, hands thrown up with emotion. but you were done with this conversation. “fuck it, i’m leaving–”

but he used his other hand to ground you before him. “don’t.” he pleaded. eyes watering. 

“what? like you’d notice?” 

then the bells chimed in his head. an alert that he understood what this was. he was stupid in not knowing what was happening before him. 

you’re jealous. 

“didn’t take you for a jealous type.”

you scoffed. “you’re ridiculous.”

but he shook his head and tsked. “can’t believe it, baby, that you hid it for so long.” 

“fuck you.”

he blew out a huff of air as if he were wounded, hand coming to run over his chest. it was a fatal one, that was for sure. you tried again to push past him, but to no avail nor universe would he let you go. 

“come home with me.”

his words were determined, sincere, though there was a layer of softness to it. like unsweetened honey that poured from his lips. 

you stared at him. “what?” 

he laughed. “you heard me. let me take you home.”

you couldn’t tell if he was being serious. couldn’t tell if he was mocking you. your facial expression dropped from its intense anger. 

“don’t…” you started, feeling the heat of emotions that you’ve been burying come to the surface. your eyes swelled with tears but fuck, you promised you’d never cry over him. “don’t be mean, lando.”

his smile dropped. he knew then that you weren’t playing around, messing with him in the ways you usually had. what was this feeling inside of him? guilt? he wanted nothing more than to fix whatever he’s done. the instinct blazed a fire through his veins, igniting a deep rooted reaction that he feared only you could bring out of him. 

his hand came to cup your cheek. you flinched backward, staring at the palm of his hand through your wet lashes, but allowed his touch. 

“come here…” his hand dropped from your cheek to hold out for you to melt into. an invitation for a hug. 

you hesitated, shifting closer on your tip toes. when you were in close enough reach, he grabbed you, earning a yelp. 

his body was warm. he pulled you flush against his chest, his head coming to rest on your shoulder. his hands were wrapped firmly around your torso. was he shaking? 

he was. lando was wrought with a surplus of emotion when he saw your anger diffuse. he loved to feel all of your emotions, it reminded him that you cared about him. but when he saw it disappear, faze into an abyss of melancholy, his heart set into overdrive. he never got such a rush of adrenaline before. not from racing. not from anything else in his life.

you relaxed into him, shutting your eyes. there was a wet stain from the single tears that fell from your face on his shirt. 

but you didn’t care. he smelled so good. it was lando. your lando. 

“let me take you home.”

your nose buried into his shirt. his stubble dug into your neck. 

“your place,” you muttered. “i want to go to yours.” 

his place was always for special occasions. but to your unbeknownst knowledge, you were the only girl he’s ever taken there. the only woman he’s fucked in his bed. 

he stuttered. “yeah,” he cleared his throat. “yeah, of course we can.”

you didn’t even end up texting alexandra goodbye. you were too wrung tight with your jealousy, coined poignantly by lando himself. he was quick to catch on to your attitude shift, but you could tell he was frightened. at least you wished for it to be. 

but he was. his heart plummeted when your anger reached him. it did more than touch him, it ripped him apart, had his heart bleeding in plain sight. anyone could see it except you. it was never you who saw the love beneath his eyes. 

lando’s apartment was just how you remembered it to be. 

open space, loosely decorated. it was rather bland. 

“you kept it!” you ran your fingers over the displayed teddy bear, one that you had won for him at a fair. 

he shut the door behind you two, locking it. he let out a soft hum. “‘course i did.” 

he said it like it was obvious. he would never get rid of anything that you’d give him. you squeezed the teddy bear in your palms, but dropped it when you felt lando’s arms wrap around your waist from behind. 

his lips found your neck in an instant. 

“i missed you.” 

you tensed. back arching, you turned your head to look at him, angled perpendicular to his face burrowed into the junction of your neck and collarbones. 

“really, now?” 

he chuckled against your skin, fanning his warm breath through your body. the hairs on the back of your neck rose instinctively, choosing to hold your breath instead of express anger. though you couldn’t help the huff through your nose. 

“you’re so vicious when you’re jealous, darling.” he thought this was funny. it angered you even more, attempting to writhe out of his hold. but he didn’t relent, keeping you taught against his chest. asshole. 

“am not.” 

he tsked. 

“sure.” he continued his trail of kisses down your neck. you fell into him, head lolling back and eyes rolling. fuck, his lips were always so good. he was so good to you. 

“am not.” you said again, biting back a moan when his hands came to your forefront, parting your legs for his hands to rest between your thighs. 

“whatever you say.” 

your hips grinded against his own in retaliation which had him humming in soft praises. his fingers trailed the lining of your panties, other hand holding your hip firmly . 

“because i’m not–” the moan that was pulled from your throat was pure divinity to lando’s ears. his fingers had run up your slit, teasing your entrance. blood ran down to your body, fueling your cunt to a puffy state. your weight went lax against his hold, which he was perfectly capable of supporting you. 

“not what?” he dared you to continue, not when he had you numb in his hold already. he was clearly cocky. you could hear the smirk in his voice. 

“i’m not–” you were determined. but lando was coming back in full force. his middle finger teased you, pushing between your slick, finding the warmth of your walls. you sucked in a tight breath, feeling just how wet you’ve become. 

“so wet, baby,” he said into your ear. “what were you saying?” 

“fuck–” you sighed, whining. “i’m not jeal–” 

and then he seized the bundle of nerves around your clit, curling his middle finger inside of you. you cursed, sweat beginning to bead around your forehead. 

“mhm.” lando proved himself right when you couldn’t mutter out a sentence, becoming dumb on his fingers alone. he began a steady pace with just a singular digit, flexing in and out of you supported by your natural lubrication.  

“more–” you pleaded. it had him standing up straight, reacting to your soft pleas like he was a dog to a treat. pavlov, and all that shit. he found himself staring down at the sight of your two– his finger etching in and out of you, drenched in your sweet nectar. if he was no better than a dog, why was he about to drool? 

“yeah? you can take another?” you were rapidly nodding against the back of his shoulder, biting your lip.

“yes, please. please, lando.” you mewled, gripping at his forearms that caged you in. you never wanted to be chained down, but for pleasure like this, you felt as though you could make an exception. 

he obeyed. adding a second finger was close enough to your release, and you knew that was barreling forward at any minute. if he kept this assault of your clit up and the delicious curl of his fingers, you would melt into a puddle. 

and you knew he would. if lando started something, he would finish it. the only priority for him was to make sure you reached an orgasm. that was a promise, forever and always. 

he found himself bucking his hips into you, the sight of you weak in his arms becoming too much for him to handle. the friction between his pants and your hot cunt was too irresistible. what can he say? you were just pure bottled heaven. 

his thumb had been applying more intense pressure to your clit. your face was entirely flushed now, brightened from his attention. he was entirely to carnal to hear the noises you made. noises for him to hear, no one else. 

but his pace was slow. teasing. you felt like this was a punishment. your lip curled, face contorting with both pleasure and angst. “please, please.” you whimpered. 

“what, baby? what do you want?” smug. always so smug. 

you gripped his hand that was flexing inside of you, tightening your grip. he chuckled deeply. 

“wanna come? that what you want?” 

your head bobbed up and down, breaths coming in fast pants. “need.” you corrected him, and he thought that he would fall dead at your feet. his jaw clenched, muscles in his arms flexing, and he would give you want you needed. 

you needed him. 

that was all that he needed to hear from you. 

you turned your head to look up at him with your bloodshot eyes, dreary with lust. lust for him. your lashes fluttered against your brow line, lip quivering with a singular wish. 

he wanted nothing more to kiss you. 

“fuck.” he groaned, your thighs were drenched in your slick, a sight he thought could never be hotter. and when he curled his two fingers sweetly, your hips bucked aggressively. he knew exactly how to navigate your body, but it was always so thrilling to see you react in such a way. 

“yeah?” he smirked, “that good?” 

“so good, lan,” the nickname you used for him was not intentional. it had his dick throbbing in his pants. fuck.

your words of praise would only have him working harder. he didn’t even need to add a third finger when your stomach snapped with tension, coming loose all over his fingers. your vision blurred, legs shaking rapidly. you cried out, head lolled against his shoulder. he held you tightly, and you didn’t miss how he stroked your hip with his thumb. a soothing action. 

how he could ever find this kind of pleasure in another woman, he didn’t know. but the challenge begged– could he ever admit that? 

his fingers remained buried in your cunt whilst you rode yourself free from your high. it was impossible to look anywhere else but you. 

and when he removed them, showing you the mess you made, his popped them into his mouth. it was such a vulgar statement, but you found yourself blushing. he sucked on his fingers, letting them out with a pop, clean as a whistle. 

“heavenly.” he reaffirmed. “no girl compares.” 

you froze, still delirious from your orgasm, but it had you spinning in his hold. he was slightly blurred in your vision, but you could make out his faintly cocky expression. 

“really, huh?” 

your attitude would have him rising, cocky attitude falling away instantly. 

he gulped. “guess so.” was this it? 

a smile grew on your face. your hands wrapped around the back of his neck, grooming through the back of his head. he smiled lazily, lip catching between his top teeth. 

but things like this didn’t last forever, did they?

there was a pounding knock at the door. it had you frightened, shifting your panties back into their rightful place. your fingers fixed your appearance the best you could, whilst lando adjusted his dick in his pants. 

“open the fucking door, lando!” 

it was a woman’s voice. 

your brow raised. 

“i know you’re in there with that bitch,” the woman seethed. you could feel her anger through the door– but you could feel your own flying through the roof. bitch? you didn’t fucking think so. 

you pushed past lando who was about to open the door and he called your name, attempting to stop you. 

the door flew open. “bitch?”

the blonde girl stood there. she clearly didn’t expect you to open the door. but she didn’t back down; fine. 

“yeah. bitch.” you straighten your posture. “he told me not to worry about you–” what? “and here you are, fucking him.” 

not quite, you wanted to correct her. 

“fuck off,” he said the girl’s name. “me and you aren’t a couple.” but she rolled her eyes anyway. 

“you promised me a good fuck, lando,” she had such a venom to her bite. it had you bristle. “i didn’t think you’d stoop so low.” 

“hey, now, don’t be–” lando started, but you were done. you had enough of this night. you turned back into his apartment and grabbed your handbag, your phone, and threw on your heels. you didn’t hesitate brushing past the pair. 

lando called your name. 

but you only turned your head over your shoulder. your gaze read an entire sentence that he felt up his entire body. 

two can play this game. 

[simpjaes]

DAY-SHIFT. (p. sh)

― part one here! After finding out that your boss has seen, heard, and instructed you through some pleasurable nights while parading around as a faceless cam-boy, you decide that your best course of action is to: call out sick. use vacation days. avoid Park Sunghoon at all costs. Unfortunately, ten days doesn’t appear to be nearly enough time to erase what’s happened, and Sunghoon refuses to be avoided. or the one where sunghoon pretends that he isn’t an anxious mess over accidentally exposing himself and you just so happen to have a lot of fucking empathy. 

minors dni 

PAIRING ― boss / cam boy!sunghoon x afab reader  

WORDCOUNT― 14.5k 

CONTENT― forbidden office romance kind of, smidge of angst if ur sensitive, mentions of predatory behavior from sunghoon, he is more desperate than he is dominant, just the way we like it.

NOTE ― bro im so sorry this took way too long to write, it also is way longer than it's supposed to be. but yknow. i had to do him right lmfao. NOT PROOF READ.

nsfw tags under cut

nsfw tags― perverted sunghoon, heavy petting, making out, foreplay on a chair lol, desk sex, very intimate shit ok? ok., pussy eating, jerking off, finger fucking, fingers-in-mouth antics, gagging, implications of something more than just an office fling, unprotected sex, he fills you UP!!! YIPEE!!! 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Avoidance.

That is the only way you know out of any awkward or unsavory situation. Avoid, avoid, avoid. Find a new job, change your name, dye your hair– question all of your life choices up to this point.

It’s the fact that never in your life have you had an interest in live sex cams. It was always just a porn video or a nice erotic novel for you. Sometimes curiosity gets the best of you though, like it does all people, and it’s not like you thought anyone would ever know who you are or catch you in the act of feeding into your curiosities. 

The one time you ever navigated to the live camera feed on your favorite porn site did shift your sexual appetite a little bit. A whole new world of seeing exactly what you want without needing to search for far too long for that perfect video…for a cost, of course.

You made good money already, and it’s not like you weren’t going for that promotion at the time either. You thought, why not? Why not pay a pretty, faceless man for some anonymous jerking off and move on with your life? 

The one time you found something to satiate the late night body-cravings, the point of pleasure ended up being…your boss?

Small world? Miniscule, fucking tiny little world. 

For days you wondered if Sunghoon’s text to you was just a coincidence. After all, the faceless man on screen didn’t say a word to you after you uttered the name of your boss. Even if he directly said your name. Even if Park Sunghoon uttered your false name at work. 

Consistent back and forth in your head. From, “No, how could that even be possible? No way is it him.” to “but Mr.Park started being weird after the first call, he used both names, he played off of the boss/employee dynamic.”

You’re going crazy as you send another email to your department, apologizing for taking so many days off but not truly apologetic. It’s been ten days now and Sunghoon has yet to text you again. 

That little “Can we talk?” can be heard in your head in his voice. Only now recognizing how clear and unique it truly is when he does speak. You try not to realize how similar the cam-boy sounded to him. Only connecting the dots when they force you to do it, really. You still try to convince yourself that the text was about firing you, given his actions at work that very same day. 

Maybe he was avoiding you because he felt awful about needing to fire you? 

Maybe he sent that text message to start the process of pushing you out? 

After all, it’s still very difficult to imagine Park Sunghoon having a cock that nice, or cum in that amount. Given, it’s not like you ever thought about him jerking off or anything, it’s just–

You don’t fucking know. Your brain is a mess of shaking anxiety and echoes of sexual frustrations and moans. 

You were refunded your money. He texted after the session. He said your name. It’s him, isn’t it?

You refuse to fucking find out.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

From:...[ HRatyourjob@workemail.org ]

CC:...[ parksunghoon@workemail.org ]

BCC:...

Subject: Time off Request: Rejected. Insufficient PTO.

[insert your name here],

The time you have requested from the 27th to the 3rd has been rejected due to insufficient hours. As of last Thursday, you are no longer meeting the minimum hour requirement as a full-time employee. Your PTO is at 0 hours and 00 minutes and you now have three unexcused absences. Please return tomorrow with a signed order or note that exempts you from work. If you move forward without returning to the building, this will be grounds for termination. Please review the company handbook and job abandonment guidelines. 

Additionally, COO Lee, myself, and Division manager Park will be scheduling a meeting with you in the upcoming days, failure to appear will result in immediate termination.

Thank you,

HR

Well, fuck. You knew the time to avoid this would dry up, and this ten day hideaway to fake your death didn’t quite pan out.

Devastating, truly, that you have to walk through those doors with the same legs your boss may or may not have seen spread open for him through a grainy webcam image. Horrifying, that you have to look him in the eye and explain that you really were sick for the past ten days, that you definitely were not hiding the shame of your sexual desires.

The worst part about all of this? Not just the embarrassment but the fact that…you liked it. On that night, had he admitted it was him, you may not have ended the call yourself. It felt like it added some danger to your arousal at the time. Which, naturally, makes you more embarrassed now. Mostly because, at worst if that was Mr.Park, it was predatory. At best though? You very well may have consented.

But the what ifs don’t matter now. The only thing that matters is forcing yourself through the awkwardness of being at work after avoiding it for so long already.

Fortunately for you though, work is…weirdly normal. In fact, no one acts like you’ve missed ten days at all. You are greeted by the usual co-workers, you sit down at your desk and can log in as usual, and there are no warning emails or invitations for what would be considered a meeting of termination either. 

The day goes by just fine, suspiciously so. Sunghoon, though you’re avoiding him at the moment, doesn’t appear to be too out of character either. At one point, you were forced to drop corrected paper work off in his office, and he gave you the same usual and small “Thank you” before you stepped out with your legs threatening to buckle. 

Then again, his “casual” appreciation could just be your mind playing positive little tricks on you. Maybe it wasn’t casual at all. Maybe that little uncharacteristic breath afterwards isn’t just in your head. You didn’t make eye contact with him during that brief moment, and you did rush out quite quickly so you wouldn’t really know. However, in the deepest part of your brain his voice really does match the one who said all those dirty things to you. 

Maybe you’re still overreacting.

Or maybe you dreamed all of this up. 

You choose to remain unaware of the awkwardness around you solely because everything else is normal. Deep, deep down, you know. But you’re not giving that truth a chance to thrive or run your brain anymore.

And just as the day comes to an end, you’re actually feeling better. Anxiety is draining out of you, fear and embarrassment sit dormant in some hidden part of your brain over the small possibility of virtually fucking your boss. It seems you’ve let this work day clear up all of that fear in your head.

You were wrong, right? It wasn’t him, right? He’d have tried to defend himself by now. What boss wouldn’t be absolutely terrified that you’d report him, anyway? After all of that?

You actually feel a little dumb at the possibility of Mr. Park ever wanting you sexually, or ever even wanting to speak to you in that way. Asking to see your pussy? Telling you how to touch it? No, that’s definitely not him. Couldn’t be him. 

And your eyes do stray after a little while. Just to steal glimpses into his office, feeling relieved and weightless now that it appears your fears are over and finally understood. Doesn’t change the fact that now when you look at him, you might be wildly fucking attracted to him. Because fuck, imagine if that was him. You’re kind of forced to put his image to the faceless cam-boy now, not that you want to do that or anything. It just…you can’t really blame yourself for it.

You lend yourself a little laugh. As happy as you are that you’re able to convince yourself that it’s not Sunghoon’s cock you’ve yearned for, you really wouldn’t mind sleeping with someone as handsome as him. 

Crazy how the lack of anxiety lets you think those types of things though, isn’t it? When your brain is no longer fogged by fear or embarrassment, it’s like the clarity can sometimes be scarier simply because you don’t know how true certain statements are. Even through all of that fear, maybe a part of you wished it was him. 

Even with the weight on your shoulders lifted, in hindsight, maybe you’re even a little disappointed that it wasn’t. 

And, just as you’re preparing to clock out and head home with a big secret crush and a little pep in your step, you hear the familiar notification of an email. No problem, probably just a daily report or something. 

From:...[ parksunghoon@workemail.org ]

CC:...

BCC:...

Subject: Mandatory Advising

[insert your name here],

Please come to my office before you leave for the day to discuss your conduct as of late. 

Thank you,

Park Sunghoon

Division Manager

000-000-0000 ext. 000

Well, double fuck. To think everything was fine despite you being well aware of that shit HR said to you previously? 

You barely recognize how the email is sent directly to you from Mr. Park, not including HR or COO Lee. In fact, the anxiety wells up inside of you so quickly that you nearly have to dry heave a few times before taking a deep breath. 

In your head, it’s not even about the web-cam session with a faceless man anymore. Your anxiety about that died the moment you successfully lied to yourself enough, now you’re genuinely just afraid you’ll lose your job or that beloved promotion you worked so hard to be qualified for. You just had to let your anxiety run your life for the past ten days, didn’t you? After all, skipping work to such an extent? Everyone had to have known that it was a lie eventually.  

So, you stand to your feet, brush off your thighs, and attempt to keep your heart from pounding as you make your way to Mr. Park’s office expecting to see HR, COO Lee, and a severance package on the desk waiting for your signature. 

Instead, you walk in to just find your boss. He’s looking at you as he normally would, eyes focused on his screen before glancing at you for a moment and nodding his head to one of the chairs in front of his desk. 

“Mr. Park–” You start, nearly wincing at the way you say it because, well, you haven’t said it since the night you had your pussy out on display. It’s only natural to physically react, right?

“One moment.” He says in a small voice, clicking a few times with the mouse as you watch the monitor light shine across his cheeks with each window he minimizes. 

It’s silent for a few moments as you awkwardly look around an office you’ve been in countless times. His lights are always dimmed, the temperature is always comfortable. You’re gonna miss this office, though it’s not your own. It was a nice, brief escape before all of this if you’re being honest. 

“How was work for you today?” He turns his attention to you, finally adjusting and rolling his chair to center himself in front of you behind his desk 

You pause at the question, unintentionally tilting your head at it like a puppy. “Good? Normal, I guess?” 

You watch as he nods with a tight-lipped expression, eyes falling to his desk as he takes in a deep and disappointed sounding breath. 

“Well, that’s one of us.” He huffs out, causing you to feel a bit confused with his tone. Is he being…passive aggressive? And when he snaps his eyes from his desk straight to your own confused gaze, you can almost sense a bit of something else in them compared to usual. 

Not anger. Not disappointment. 

He looks worried.

“Eleven days–” Sunghoon drones on with an exhausted tone, cutting himself off with another breath that shows you were right to assume his current displayed emotion. “You have ignored my text messages for eleven days.” 

You’re shocked by that because as far as you’re concerned, he has not texted you.

“What are you–” You furrow your brows at him, frantically pulling out your phone. “You haven’t texted me. See? The last one I got was–” You take a second as you pull up his texts and remember the exact time he texted you. So late into the night, right after…that. Naturally, you silence yourself, afraid to say it out loud.

“On the contrary,” Sunghoon denies your proof. “I texted from my personal phone.”

You hesitate again, looking down and noting the notifications under the tab of  “message requests.” To be fucking fair though, you didn’t even know that existed so you never really paid attention to it. Especially as you practically avoided your phone out of fear that he’d be texting you again. 

You were thankful he didn’t. That comforted you. Now though? Your comfort is replaced yet again with anxiety because, well, he texted you consistently after that night.

“Oh–” You say quietly, seeing a glimpse of “Please, let me call y–” in one of the messages.

“I didn’t see those.” Quickly, you turn your screen off and shove your phone back into your pocket, nervously clasping your hands in front of you and looking to the floor. 

“I will reiterate then.” 

You can hear the leather on his chair squeak against his expensive suit when he leans forward, both hands splayed out on his desk in a wide and intimidating stance in front of you. 

“Wait–” You look around the office now. “If you’re going to fire me– shouldn’t the others be here too?”

Sunghoon pulls back at that, narrowing his eyes before lending a very small and even more nervous chuckle.

“I’m not firing you. I told them I’d take care of your sudden and, quite frankly, unhelpful vacation.” 

You look to the floor again, feeling scolded for your actions but having a genuine reason. If Sunghoon truly is aware of that reason for your absence, he understands too, right?

“I have been beyond inappropriate with you.” He blurts now, that same leather squeaking as he leans back again and looks away from you the moment you snap your head up. “I have reason to believe you’ve not yet reported me, and I’d like to ask for the opportunity to explain myself before you do.” 

You feel a chill wash over your whole body, cold sweat peaking right at your temples as you stare forward. He’s being so professional about this, and that lie you’ve convinced yourself of is showing it’s face as just that, a fucking lie.

So this is it? 

So there it is? A semi-admittance that it was him? That little feeling in the back of your head that wishes it was diminishes within an instant. In fact, you narrow your eyes at him, your nose crinkles, and you feel frustration bubble up in your gut.

“So you admit that it was you?” You ask, needing a full confirmation. 

“Yes.” Sunghoon sighs, leaning back somehow further, creating as much distance from you as possible before unintentionally rolling his eyes. Mostly due to the fact that he was stupid enough to let this happen, mostly to shame himself. “What I did was inappropriate and unacceptable. I didn’t intend for this to ever happen.”

Now you feel a bit…pissed off.

Like? Oh, he didn’t intend for this to happen? What? You mean he didn’t intend to let you fucking find out! Well, as good as he is at playing the part of a slutty man on the internet, he’s not so good at acting in real life, now is he? Saying your false fucking name at work, saying your real name with his cock out?

What in the fuck are you supposed to do about this? Why is he giving you the ability to report him? He’s the one with the power here. He could fire you now and bury the information if he so pleased. After all, He’s besties with COO Lee, right? That bitch in HR has an obsession with him too. Hell, everyone here loves the guy. 

You’re just a bottom of the barrel employee trying to work your way up. If you got him fired, surely he’d make damn sure you never work for a decent company like this one again. Additionally, you don’t even want to report him.

Yeah, it was fucking weird that he just knew it was you and kept going. Super strange that he had to have known after the first call, only to ask to see you in the second one. Why does that turn you on in the midst of this anxiety induced spiral? Why the fuck is the idea of Park Sunghoon apologizing for masturbating to and for you so alluring?! 

Sure, maybe it’s kind of nice knowing that someone of his status would ever find an interest in you, but it doesn’t quite wash the frustration away. You have every right to question, and every right to be pissed off about it. 

Still, in this quiet room, Sunghoon is stoic and all you can think about when you look at him is the way he said “if I were your boss i’d–” and the way he fucked his palm while saying it, implying he wanted it to be you while simultaneously knowing it was you watching. 

Since fucking when did Mr. Park ever show a sexual interest in you? And if he did, why the fuck couldn’t he have just been normal about it?

“That was really fucked up, you know that?” You argue immediately, voice shaking at the speed of which your emotions shift. Your resolve isn’t quite as clear as it probably should be. Perhaps you should report him, or maybe you already should have. But, it’s not like you accepted the truth until he demanded it of you.

You would have let it slide. Both of you could have pretended it never happened. You could’ve gone home and continued working, never paying a cam-boy again had Sunghoon not called you into this stupid, comfortable ass office. 

“In my defense, I was just doing my job. Though it’s my own fault for not telling you, my job here was at risk if you had found out.”

“You made me talk about you.” You roll your eyes at him now, gaining the power and control over the conversation. “And you thought I wouldn’t find out?! What? Did that get you off or something?”

“I–” Sunghoon stops himself from answering that question truthfully. He quickly tries to explain away the stutter instead. Never has he been scolded by an employee, but you’re well within your rights to do so. “I wasn’t in my right mind. I never get called by name during these sessions and I apologize for having you say it.”

“And you want me to report you?” You raise a brow at him. “Want me to just storm right into HR and tell her how you’re a fucking pervert? Want me to tell her how you told me to repeat your name? To thank you for it? Is that really what you want?” 

Are you enjoying yourself a little too much? Maybe.

Sunghoon doesn’t respond though, instead, he runs his hand through his hair and sighs from the stress welling up inside of him. He can only act calm and collected for so long, and it’s been eleven days already. He hates how hearing you say those words goes straight to his cock at a time like this, he hates even more how all of this could have been avoided if he had simply declined your second call. 

But you’re not wrong. He is a pervert, and he did tell you to thank him for the pleasure you were getting from his voice and half image alone. At the time, he was so turned on he really just couldn’t help himself. You fed his sexual appetite unknowingly and now this is the consequence of his action. Being a known pervert.

Is it what he wants though? To be reported? Humiliated?

Fuck.

Arguably, just having you humiliate him like this is enough. Drives him crazy, really. Whether it be from arousal or guilt, or both. 

And for the first time since you started working here, you see him for what he truly is. A strong man to an extent, but he’s crumbling under his own mistake and it makes you wonder just how far he would’ve taken it had you not found out. 

“And what if I didn’t realize who I was fucking myself for?” You glare. “Would you have asked for more? Avoided me here even more? Would you have declined my application for the assistant position because you can’t come to terms with the fact that you’re a fucking pervert?!”

Sunghoon raises his hands in defense. 

“Please–” His voice sounds panicked. “Please, keep your voice down.”

“Answer the question, then. Just fucking own it at this point.” You throw your arms up now, letting them fall back down in a slap to your thighs. “Would you have made my work-life miserable just so you could watch me get off to you? Knowing the whole time? Would you have kept on with that boss slash employee shit just so it felt more real for you?” 

Staring forward at him, you watch him accept that everything you’re saying is likely exactly what would have happened. Maybe he really will try to own it. Which would be… a good thing if you decide to let your own resolve falter.

So fucking secretive, huh? An actual, real life degenerate? And it’s Sunghoon of all people? 

“Maybe…” Sunghoon trails off, making himself seem much smaller than he usually is on a day-to-day basis. “I mean, No–I,”

Oh, he’s actually stuttering.

“And you want me to tell on you? You want me to fuck your life up?” You raise a brow. “As if I didn’t pay you to do it?”

In all honesty, aside from the anxiety and awkwardness, and despite never once thinking of Sunghoon too sexually, things have changed. Drastically. Especially after being confronted with this situation and he’s not intimidating you or using his power to control you. No, he’s giving you the power and quite frankly, you don’t know what to do with it. 

Are you basking in it? Absolutely. Is it nice to see him cower in front of you? In that big plush chair that costs more than your monthly income? Hell yeah.

But goddamn, had he approached you before all of this and asked for a date, or showed interest, you would have gladly partaken in a secret romance with him. He’s intelligent, attractive, clean, and has money. It’s not like you ever expected the guy to go home and fuck himself on camera. 

You never thought he was the type to be so lonely either. Or so desperate, judging by how he acted during those two sessions. Arguably, you always wondered why there was never a ring on those pristine fingers. 

And while you were definitely the victim in this situation, you feel more embarrassed than you do violated. Many nights you thought of how he spoke, how he said how badly he wanted you. It’s embarrassing because you’re starting to love the idea of who those words really came from. The Park Sunghoon, so untouchable in the business world. So untouchable by women and men solely because he appears to be too expensive, too pristine.

But you…

You’ve seen him dirty. 

Part of you wishes you didn’t pay to be humiliated like this. The rest of you wishes you didn’t fucking like it as much as you do.

“It’s only fair.” Sunghoon explains with a short breath. “I feel awful for what I’ve done, and I should have told you the moment I recognized her as, well–” He pauses with a pained face, as if he hates hearing himself say it. “You.”

“Then, why didn’t you?” You raise your brow again, nearly forgetting you’re at work, solely focused on the conversation at hand and feeling relieved at the way it’s going.

Sunghoon shifts in discomfort, looking away from you.

“Do you want honesty?” He asks in a quiet voice, leaning forward on his desk but refusing eye contact. He keeps his gaze lowered the entire time, his voice small and shaky. 

There’s still people in the office, though his door is closed and it’s unlikely he can be heard.

You nod to him with an even smaller “Go on then.”

“I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t you.” He says, shifting his hands and picking at his cuticles. 

Man, he really knows how to act sorry, doesn’t he?

“I avoided you after that first call, solely because I think I wanted her to be you. Which is…incredibly inappropriate.” 

He looks up at you now, searching for a reaction and only seeing you nod at him. His eyes shift right back down as he continues. 

“My avoiding you led you to– um– more services.” He explains quieter, admitting in full the situation he’s allowed to take place, seeming more and more insecure with his words than he ever has before. “I can admit that I have fantasies and needs.” 

Silence. 

“After that first call, I couldn’t help but be entirely attracted to you. The idea of–”

You suddenly find yourself thinking back to all of those things he said to you again, parading as if he wasn’t your boss, telling you what he'd do if he were. He seems to have accidentally found a sexual interest in the dynamic…and he fucking dragged you into it with him. 

“Mr. Par– Sunghoon.” You cut him off, actually feeling a bit of pity now at his admittance. 

His words make you feel like maybe he’s not entirely just a pervert who was intending to make you get off to him from the start. If anything, he probably felt uncomfortable at first knowing who was on the other end of the call. It’s the fact that his real life job was at risk if you found out, and still he indulged despite that. He accepted that second call, he asked for more, he acted like he really does want you.

 To the extent that losing his job was in the front of his mind and he still did it. He ignored the danger of it and prioritized getting off…with you. You find yourself wondering if this would have happened to any other employee under him if they happened to stumble across his stream too. 

Part of you wants to pretend he wouldn’t, because the idea that all of this is happening solely because it was you? It hits a little too hard, a little too deep. 

“Okay, okay. Stop,” You say, keeping your eyes on him and willing him to look up at you. “You don’t have to keep explaining, I get it.”

“No.” He does meet your eye this time, stopping your brain of all thoughts at how differently you see him now versus all the times before. “I do.” 

He’s so honest. Probably too honest for his own good. Maybe that’s why he’s so good at his job, maybe that’s why everyone loves him. Maybe a bit of lying would help him in this situation if it were anyone else, but for you? 

You kind of enjoy the way he’s telling the truth. Admitting that he was desperate, apologizing for wanting you even if just for a brief moment.

“I asked you to turn on your camera for selfish reasons. I asked you to say my name, then I made the mistake of exposing myself because I–” He hesitates, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply through his nose. “I struggled to pretend it wasn’t me, and that she wasn’t you. I very well knew what I was doing, and at the time, I wished that you did too.”

More silence as you stare at him, stunned, slightly in awe. 

“But I knew you wouldn’t have reciprocated. What I’ve done is criminal, and I am encouraging you to report me for it if that’s what you deem necessary.” 

“And if I don’t?” You don’t leave any more room for silence now, feeling desired and validated. 

You can’t pretend that you’re mad, though you were previously. You simply can’t pretend that, now at least, you wouldn’t reciprocate. If anything, you’re more interested now than you think you ever would have been before. 

“We can forget any of this ever happened. I’ll stop streaming and accepting private calls, and we can hopefully move forward without any ill-feelings of one another.” He blinks at you, near pleading with his eyes. “I’ll push your application through– That is, if you still want the position.” 

Sunghoon does wince at the bribe, considering he’s never done such a thing let alone commit acts of sexual harassment, or perhaps even non consensual foreplay with someone. It really really wasn’t entirely intentional, and he’s disgusted with himself. If you report him, he’d take the hit to his reputation and career, but if you don’t…what then?

Ill-feelings, he says? If anything, you might feel more ill parading around like you wouldn’t want him to do all of those things he said previously, with free-will to say as he pleased without the fear of you knowing who the words were coming from. 

“Can you please stop with the professional talk?” You hum out with an exhausted eye roll.  “I don’t want the promotion if you’re just offering it so I don’t rat you out.” You narrow your eyes now and lean yourself forward. “You hope to forget this ever happened? Really?” 

Carefully, the two of you watch each other for a while longer. Sunghoon looking like he’s about to catch himself on fire, and you, looking annoyed and amused. Still, the thick air in the room starts to feel suffocating under the pressure of the “issue” at hand as you scold him further. 

“What you did was predatory. But– I don’t want to ruin your life over this.” 

You watch as Sunghoon listens, his posture opening up a bit more as you speak, showing that he’s being relieved of his stress through your words alone. 

“Are you trying to hold a promotion over my head over this?”

Before he gets the chance to curl in on himself again, you answer for him. 

“Maybe.” 

You continue too, not letting him speak for the time being. Or, rather, giving him a chance to breathe. 

“Should you change your username and continue doing what you want behind closed doors because it’s no one else’s business?” You really watch him this time. “Yes.” 

He blinks at you, raising a brow in slight confusion. 

“Did you take advantage of me?”

He nods before you whisper out another “yes” yourself. 

“Would I let you do it again…?”

Oh, for Sunghoon, it’s hard to breathe right now as he anticipates what you’ll say. Is it going to be a ‘no’ this time? Are you going to stand up and change your mind? Despite just stating you don’t want to ruin his life?

God, hasn’t he already let you?

“Yes.”

Pause. 

“I’m sorry?” Sunghoon responds in disbelief, shifting his eyes to his hands and then back to you. “Come again?”

“Sunghoon.” You make it a point to call him by his name now, ignoring the etiquette of a proper boss and employee dynamic. “I am humiliated by all of this but I can see that you are too. You’ve admitted your guilt and even go as far as encouraging that I report you.” You pause again, knowing that this isn’t where the conversation should be going for any, uh, normal person, you suppose. 

“If you had just told me. If you had said anything about wanting to, like, fuck me, I would have done it with or without the promotion on the line.”

Does that make you sound a little desperate? Yeah. But it’s not like he doesn’t know how badly you need to be fucked. After all, you know, the cam sessions and stuff. You were literally paying a stranger to get you off. 

Shouldn’t he, of all people, know that you were bad-off enough to get laid?

Sunghoon’s issue though, is that he never looks at his employees sexually. No matter how pretty, no matter how much they flaunt themselves at him. He never has, and probably never will again. If it hadn’t been for that single first session with you, all would be well. But now? He’s too attracted to you. 

He wants you so badly.

“If you tell me right now that you want me, in the same way you did on that call–” You stop yourself to really look at him. With the way he swallows, the way his lips slightly part, the way his hands show signs of eleven days worth of nervous habit cuticle picking. “If you do all of those things you said you’d do ‘if you were my boss’...”

“Wait, wait–” Sunghoon stands in a rush, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden sound echoing off of the walls in the office. “Do you understand the consequences of what you’re implying right now?”

“If I fuck my boss, we could both be fired?” You smile, feeling the confidence raise within you. Watching the way he reacts to your lewd words face to face rather than through a microphone. 

“That would be…correct.” He raises a brow. 

“Well, technically, you’ve already been fucking me.” You look away from him, feeling a bit shy even with the confidence, but never having spoken to a man so bluntly before like this? It’s a bit scary. “Would it really make anything worse if, you know, I do reciprocate?”

Goddamn. Sunghoon might be a bit smitten. This situation could have gone a thousand different ways, and you offer the one that includes your legs spread across this fucking desk and his face buried between them?

Oh. Never has he been so willingly turned on at work. 

“Is this what you want?” He asks in a breath, shifting his eyes to the door and walking towards it, immediately reaching for the lock but not quite turning it. 

“Is that what you want?” You counter, turning and staring at the lock. 

Sunghoon hides his nod, wanting you to be the one to answer first. After all, hasn’t he been self-indulgent enough?

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He finally breaks and says it, blatantly, not sugar coated, yet still sweet when the words hit your ears. “After all this, you still want it?” 

You nod, dipping your head a bit against your shoulder. 

Click. 

“I guess I should have known.” Sunghoon plays with his words now, hand dropping from the now locked door and eyes entirely on you. “Do you want me to fuck you, or would you prefer–”

“You.” You smile, feeling your skin prickle at the electricity that enters the room through breath and words alone. It’s the way he already shifted. Like all of that anxiety melted out of him within an instant. 

“No, no.” He stalks towards you now, the nervous Sunghoon is no longer in sight as he makes himself seem bigger, taller, far more intimidating. Just like he was on camera. “The me you saw on screen is not the same as what you’re seeing right now.” He tries to explain. 

“Oh?” You tilt your head, and he only finds that cute. 

Far too cute. 

“You’d do as I ask, right?” His voice shifts to a raspy whisper as he centers himself in front of you, both hands reaching the arms of your chair as he hovers above you. “I’m far more tame online.” 

Tame?! That’s what he calls tame?! 

You stare up at him, keeping your jaw from falling slack as you physically see him shift from being your boss into being a man with a need. Not just any need either. A need for you.

Part of you wonders if he ever truly felt bad in the first place about all of this, because the shift from just moments ago is so dramatic it’s almost scary. 

“So, tell me.” He leans down, inches from your face as his eyes start to fall to a half-lidded stare at you. “You’ll do as I say? You’d let me do it all for you, and not ask me to stop until I feel it best, yes?”

You swallow and slowly nod. Oh god, it really, really, is him. 

“And while at work, you’ll behave?” He continues, lips now ghosting over yours to the point you can almost feel them press down. He’s implying that if you don’t tell, that this won’t be the only time too? Shit. He’s entirely aware of why this shouldn’t be happening, but still making it happen.

 “No matter what I do to you, where or how I do it, you’ll behave?”

You can’t help it when you lift your chin, just a bit to rest your lips against his words, eyes falling closed and hands hesitant to reach out for his perfectly ironed shirt. 

You feel his smile against your lips, with that sharp-toothed grin he rarely offers. 

“Ah, so it’s true.” He murmurs against you, his hand reaching for yours and guiding it for you, straight to his belt. “Dirty, dirty girl.”

A small, pleased, sound leaves your throat when he does kiss you, adding his own pleased hum alongside yours as his hands still hold yours in place over his belt, not quite letting you do anything just yet.

”Gonna be quiet–” He whispers into your mouth, just against your tongue before licking out and against it. “Even when I tell you to moan my name?”

You really shouldn’t be surprised, but you still are. You like this Sunghoon better than the one who stutters and picks his cuticles. He’s owning it, and in a way, so are you. 

 After all, it wasn’t until today that you truly learned what Sunghoon is like when he’s aroused. Not that you ever should have known in the first place. The fact that you do know, the fact that he’s showing you? It just makes this all the more arousing, in your opinion.

All he needed was a green light and within seconds it seems, Sunghoon became the need you’ve been chasing for months now through porn sites and erotic novels. 

You nod to his words, trying to drop your hand just a bit to feel what you’ve already seen. Just to feel how warm he is, how—

“Is that so?” Sunghoon whispers in an amused tone, guiding your hand right back to his belt, only to drop his other hand straight between your legs. “You’re supposed to do as I say. If I tell you to moan my name, you do it.”

Oh, the sexual confusion of what to do and which Sunghoon to obey. All you can do is continue to nod for him, hanging your head with a breath at the way he cups his hand over the entirety of your core. You wore pants today in order to hide your shame, to try and feel invisible based on previous circumstances. You’re not so happy about that now, as you try to feel his touch through the thick fabric only to shamelessly thrust your hips up and against his palm.

He moves his lips to the top of your head now, hovering over you in a perfect stance of power, hand gently rubbing up and and down despite your hips asking for a harsher touch. If anything, it makes him feel better knowing how you react to this. 

In actuality, his relief is sending his arousal through the roof. Not only are you not going to rat him out but…you want more of it? More of him, in particular? Not the facade of him online? 

At this point, if he gets caught, you’re both going down in flames. So, why not enjoy the ride?

Truly, it’s laughable in the way he’s just as amused as he is turned on, relishing in the fact that he wants you and you’re letting him have you despite his past actions. You’re messy too, he’s seen it, and now he gets to feel it. 

“Mhm,” Sunghoon hums against the top of your head, now pressing his own hips forward against your hand. “Feel that?”

The electricity? How hard he is? How needy you are?

”Yeah…” You sigh absentmindedly, bumping his chin with your head when you try to look up at him. You only blink twice before he coos out with a sad little sound. 

He doesn’t say a word after as he removes his hand and instead, grabs both of your hands and places them on his shirt. 

“Go on.” He smiles, waiting to see you to start fumbling against his buttons. 

And fumble, you do. Touching him, for some reason, feels so dangerous. Knowing you’re the one removing his shirt, watching his skin be revealed as it begins to fall open by your own doing? It’s electrifying. Enough to lose your train of thought as you study how toned and smooth his skin is. Just like how you had seen on camera, so clear in front of you now. You’re aching for him by this point, being able to feel his body heat, touch him, feel his eyes on you. 

If you had really known back then who it was you were talking to, you very well may have pretended to not know as well, judging by the way your entire body catches fire for him. 

And as his shirt falls completely open, he’s satisfied with the way you do it. Complacent and docile beneath him, nervous fingers shaking much like he did for the past eleven days. With those pretty eyes looking at him, like there’s nothing in your head at all. 

He chuckles at you, grabbing your hands again and placing them right on his chest, helping your hesitant touch to massage and caress each bump and toned muscle. He intentionally flexes the further down your hands go, all the way back to his belt. 

There, he looks down at where you touch, then back at you with a quirked brow. You stare  up at him, blinking, face feeling hot, and it’s like you move your hands on instinct. The sound of his buckle being unclasped echoes in the room, and his eyes only darken with the sound.

The sound of it slipping from the loops when he takes it upon himself to remove it completely for you, the sound of his breathing, the sound of that zipper, the button, the shuffling of his pants being skewed down just enough to fit your hand inside.

He moans at the image alone, loving the way your smaller hand looks slipping down his pants, the way your breathing is somehow even as if you’re trying to keep yourself calm. So calm, so pretty, but he knows how needy you are. He shouldn’t, but he does, and he uses it to his advantage. 

You’re the one who moans this time upon feeling that little twitch of his cock urging you to grab. And he helps you too, with the way he guides your hand under the front of his pants further, forcing your fingers to grab and grope the thick of his cock, uncomfortable and pressing between his briefs and undone zipper. 

“Still, you’re just looking.” Sunghoon comments, pressing his hips forward slowly and gently. “I’m right here.” He continues to explain the situation to you, as if you’re not experiencing it. “You need me to show you how to touch me too?”

You hesitate with a groan caught in your throat. You’re still processing the size difference that you feel now versus what you saw. Bigger. Thicker. Heavier than you would have expected against your palm. Honestly, you were so focused on the fact that Sunghoon’s cock is currently fucking forward against you that you almost forgot how to jerk a man off by yourself. 

His hand had been doing all the work for you, and you’re quick to take over. 

Sunghoon lends a very small gasp at the way you try to grasp, and instantly both of his arms shoot to the chair behind your head. He grips it, dropping his chin to the top of your head before thrusting a bit harsher into the grip you try to hold on him. 

“Harder.” He exhales, his cock twitching in your weak hold. “Grab me harder.”

You do, squeezing the bulge before intentionally adjusting it for him, allowing the head of his bulbous cock to peek from the top of his briefs. 

His relieved sigh is enough, you can’t help it. With his chin sat atop your head like this, you have no choice but to watch the way he moves his hips. Just like he did on camera. His abs flex with each movement, his arms grip behind you on the chair tighter, and you couldn’t pull your eyes away from his desperate body even if you wanted to. 

You thrust up too, as if your body craves what you’re already touching. And you do crave it, so much so that your clit aches against the denim you’re rubbing up against. Unfortunate that you wore these fucking jeans, honestly.

“Mr. Park–” You let out a small and frustrated cry, using your other hand to try and fail at unbuttoning your own pants. 

He hides his smile at the way you’ve reverted back to his professional title, but pays no mind to it because that’s what he wanted to hear in your voice that night. A desperate sound of his name, a plea, a cry. He can’t help but cling to it and bury that pretty voice into the darkest parts of his brain. A memory he’ll revisit time and time again after this. That sound, those pretty lips, this weak grasp you have. For the time being, it’s his. You belong to him right now. 

“Hm?” He hums out, fucking his hips forward while tilting his head back to look at you. “What is it, baby?”

Oh. You lost your train of thought. 

Thankfully, he seems to do the thinking for you as he shifts his eyes down and watches you try to both please him and remove your own pants. A cute sight to him, really. Someone who was just scolding him for wanting this, fumbling for more? 

So cute. 

He chuckles, pulling his hips back from your hand and grabbing it, unbothered by the loss of your touch. Instantly he intertwines his fingers with yours, and grasps your other hand from your pants to do the same. Both your arms raise by his guidance to the back of the chair before he releases them. 

You watch with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes as he lowers himself, right onto his knees before he unbuttons your pants for you and very politely pulls them from your legs. 

“This what you want?” He smiles, lying his cheek right against your exposed thigh and taking a deep inhale. It’s taking everything in him not to fawn over the woman who had him in his thoughts for the past however long, truly. 

Then again, he’s weak. He doesn’t even look up at you through his words and, instead, nuzzles his nose right up and against the seat of your panties before inhaling with a pleasant hum. “To have me finally touching this pretty pussy for you?” 

God damn, if you didn’t already know it was him on that camera, you do now. He speaks the same type of words, with the same confidence, the same sultry tone…

You can barely comprehend the way he slowly takes his own pants off because you’re too focused on the way he runs his lips across your skin with dirty thoughts spilling from them. Fingers tucked under either side of your panties in preparation before he eventually pulls them off of you. 

“Did you wear those pants to hide yourself from me?” He comments now with an amused tone. “Knowing you wanted me to take them off of you anyway?”

You shake your head at him, holding your breath. You did wear them to hide, but you never would have expected this situation to go in a direction involving his mouth anywhere near where you need it. Sure, you assumed he would have rejected you, you assumed that if it was him– he’d have been so disgusted with himself that he’d only gag at your presence. 

But no. You were bold in your words, and he seems to feed into that. 

“No?” He furrows his brows and lifts his head. Now lowering your panties much like he did for your pants. He’s quick with his next action, seemingly hiding his own desperation through playful comments at you. “Why not?” He adds, instantly pressing his thumb against your clit and fucking shining his eyes up at you with a semi-pouted mouth. 

You roll your eyes back at the sudden pressure, relaxing your shoulders and slouching down in the chair. Your legs spread further on instinct, granting him a full view of your sticky cunt parting open for him.

His eyes glance down, peering into the heat you offered once before ever knowing it was him looking. Clicking his tongue, he can’t help but bite his lower lip to hold himself back. He hopes you don’t notice the way his hand finds its way to his own cock, he really, really hopes you don’t see him act so pathetic over this. 

But you do. The moment your eyes roll back into place and get a look at him. One of his shoulders is moving, but the action is hidden by not only the chair, but his fucking face. He’s got his lips parted and he’s licking his lower lip. Slicking it up with his own saliva before–

“So quiet,” He hums with glistening lips, lending himself a light hold with his cock and pretending it’s you doing it for him. “You have nothing to say for yourself?” He adds now, inhaling once more the scent of your slick dripping for him as he leans in just a bit more.

“Oh–!” You yelp slightly at the feeling of his teeth digging into the flesh just to the side of your core. He bites down harder and harder, licking the flesh between his teeth before sucking hard against it. The sweat and scent of your full-day at work does nothing to calm his raging cock. He loves it and it only grows his appetite for you. Licking, sucking, nibbling at the skin until he’s sure he’ll leave a nice, painful swell to rub against your panties later. Only then does he release your skin from his still-tasting mouth. 

The relief when he releases your thigh is short lived because he offers not even a full two seconds before you feel his mouth circle your clit. Like he can’t help himself, like he can’t tease you right now even if he wanted to. 

 A flick of his tongue sends a shiver down your spine straight to your toes and you can’t stop your legs from immediately wrapping around his head. You hear his muffled “mmf” when you do that, but he keeps you from apologizing for it because his free hand goes straight under your ass and scoots you even closer to his tongue. 

And if you didn’t already think Sunghoon knew how to use that mouth for more than just being a professional business man, you do now. With the way that same tongue that used to taste the morning coffee you’d bring him now tastes you. Deeply. 

He licks, flicks, and sucks every fold. Slurping up any dripping heat that slips out of you before pressing his tongue in and nuzzling his nose against your clit. He’s not quiet about it either. He moans with each lick, hums every time your legs squeeze around his neck, slurps and loudly sucks. 

It’s pornographic, it’s sexy, it’s–

Suddenly, you feel a sharp jolt shoot through you, having not even noticed his hand moving from your ass to your front, moving straight up under your shirt. His fingers immediately find your nipple and pinches hard. So hard that your previous moan only becomes prolonged. Grows louder, breathier. 

He pinches and massages your nipple with the intent to keep you loud for him. Office setting or not, he could give less of a shit about that right now. He ignores the strain on his wrist from your bra, he uses his other hand to grip himself harder, and you can’t help but squeeze him tighter between your thighs until you’re, quite literally, shaking.

Your hips are sliding against his face with each jolt of pleasure, practically riding him, and his cock is now entirely neglected because you can’t help but want more. You need more. And he gives it, by now releasing himself and keeping both hands on you. One holding the outside of your thigh, almost pushing you to squeeze tighter, the other incessantly abusing your nipple. 

He chokes out a moan through his messy movements, never quite knowing where to put his hands solely because he wants to touch all of you. His cock is just fine being neglected, he thinks, as he realizes just how much pleasure he gets from feeling you wrap yourself around him like this. 

It feels better than jerking himself off. 

“Mr. P–” You sigh out, still not quite used to actually calling him his name, but the sound of it reminds you time and time again how wrong this situation is supposed to be. 

You’re sitting on this soft chair, pussy being spread apart by a tongue none other than the man who signs your paychecks. And just this morning you were terrified of him ever even getting a glimpse of you without pants on? God, how stupid could you be? You should’ve been chasing this man’s touch since the day you looked at him for the first time. 

“Fuck–” You moan out for him, brain spitting thoughts at you as each second passes. The danger of this, the fact that he genuinely got off to you before you knew it was him. The secrecy of his perverted thoughts and actions…it’s all so… “So, you’re so – hot.”

You feel him laugh, kissing the pulsing hole of your pussy when he pulls his tongue back to swallow. And for just a few moments, he turns his head, gripping your thigh with his teeth once again before speaking back to you, muffled by the hot skin. 

“Yeah?” He laughs, now pulling his hand from your bra and lifting to your chin, pointing your gaze down at him, forcing you to see the way your thighs nearly suffocate him against your pussy. “Then keep your eyes on me.”

And you do, especially when he uses both of his hands now, nudging them between your legs and forcing them from his shoulders. He rests your legs on the arms of the chair instead and flicks his eyes up at you. 

“You watching?” He makes this a point, blowing a small breath of air straight at your clit before receiving a dazed and slow nod from you. “Keep your legs open too.”

That’s the last thing he says before his mouth is full again, sucking your folds between his teeth before tucking his tongue right back into your hole. He tastes for just a few moments before you feel those same lips on your clit. He lets it throb in his open mouth as he listens carefully to your little sounds, especially now that he’s sliding his fingers into you. 

You gasp, holding your breath at the feeling. His fingers slide in, reaching deep before he scissors them open. And all you feel from it is pleasure. You can’t help that your eyes roll back again, but you do try to keep your gaze fixed on his. With his eyes so rounded, blinking up at you with his strong jaw moving with each swallow of his own muffled moans. 

He sucks your clit, fucks your cunt open, and relishes in the way he will soon get to splay you across his desk and really let you have it. 

And he does this for a few minutes, though in your head it goes by so fast that you nearly get whiplash from the way he pulls back with a wet sound and grins at you.

“Aw, baby–” He coos at the face you make, seemingly disappointed to lose all stimulation at once, but he’s quick to lift to his feet and lean back over you. 

Oh, his cock. It’s right there. 

Oh.

His face– 

“You’re so fucking wet right now.” He murmurs against the corner of your mouth with a raspy whisper, easily and without warning slipping two of his fingers right back into the heat that he just denied himself of licking more. “You hear that?” He continues with a sharp toothed bite to your lip. “How wet you are?”

You groan at the way he slams his fingers in, out, in, out, in…He keeps them there, pressed so far into you that you can physically feel the way your pussy tries to push him out again.

“Could slip it in right now–” He moans out at how tight you clench just his fingers. “Fuck, could be so deep in you.”

Your face feels hot as a bashful feeling overtakes you. His voice hits so much harder when you feel his breath along with it. His fingers, his cock right up against you. You want him to slip it in. To stuff his cock in you so fast, no room to adjust, not a second to even catch your breath. 

God, you need it right now. It’s been too long since you’ve felt a real person touch you, you can’t help that you feel so desperate. The clench isn’t on purpose, your body tells him all he needs to know, all while he tells you all you could only wish to hear fall from someone’s lips.

And not just anyone. His lips. 

You shoot your arms around his neck and it's not really intentional but– an actual kiss. You need it. 

He seems pleased by it though, with the way his tongue immediately asks for more. One hand moves to brace your cheek, the other still fucking into you so good that you can’t keep a single moan down. He takes full control of the initiated kiss solely because you kissed him first. Almost hungrily, he licks into your mouth with his own muffled groan, encouraging you to keep being pretty like this. Just so you can see what he’ll do to you. 

And, damn. He guides your body like a puppet, stiffening his shoulders when he licks into your mouth and threatening to pull away by raising  himself up just a bit. He knew you’d chase the kiss, and you do. You lift with him, your ass lifting from the chair just to keep his tongue against yours, and he takes the elevated position and angles his hand just a bit. There, his fingers fuck into you harder, faster, so much fucking deeper until– you feel his fingers stop at a painfully deep spot inside of you. 

He pulls back from the kiss, looking down between your bodies, and your eyes follow his gaze. Right there, he’s placed his knee up against his own wrist, forcing his fingers to remain deep and unmoving in you. 

You take in a sharp inhale, seeing the way he lets your body fall back to the seat of the chair, only forcing him to skew his fingers and– “Oh, god!”

You moan out so suddenly that it even shocks him for a moment, but he takes your weakness and uses it to his advantage. Quickly, he licks into your moaning mouth, tickling his fingers upwards, pulling even more animalistic sounds from you. 

“Yeah?” He whispers frantically, so turned on by the way your entire body stiffens. “Right there?” He continues, leaning his full body weight forward with his knee, wincing at the way he presses his cock against anything he can find in the process, just to get you off right here, right now. 

You nod just as frantically, toes curling, arms shooting to the chair in a form that should appear as discomfort, but really you’re just bracing yourself through the tensing of your muscles before all of them relax and pulse at once. 

Your ears pop, but you can still hear your desperate cries of his name somewhere distant. You can even hear him, humming and encouraging your orgasm. You wish you could hold your eyes open to see him, to grab him and force him to fuck his fingers hard into you. God, you could take it right now. You could take just about anything to heighten this feeling of stars bursting behind your eyelids. 

Somehow though, it’s like he knows. Half-way through your orgasm, you feel the weight between your legs shift and his fingers start moving again. Still, your eyes are squeezed shut, and you can't help but to lunge forward and hug against his neck, clinging to him through the prolonged orgasm that his fingers alone have brought to you. 

“Squeezing me so tight–” Sunghoon groans, unsure of if he’s referring to the way your needy cunt crowds his fingers, or the way you cling to him like a lost pet, begging for him to never leave your sight. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this.”

You hear those words over any of his others. So clear in your head as you snap your head up and look at him. You see him lower his gaze, but your grip doesn’t quite allow him to actually look down at you. Not when he has to physically hold you up anyway. Still, he looks amused up there, knowing that single compliment must’ve hit somewhere inside of you.

You’re not sure why, through all this, Sunghoon calling you pretty makes it so much more intimate. And even as your legs continue to shake, and you release your death grip hug on him, he keeps himself crowded up to you. He’s somehow out of breath just like you are, relishing in the calm silence of your post orgasm as he…Jesus.

It’s not just your imagination. Somehow, it is intimate. It’s the way he pulls his fingers out and both hands shoot to your face. First, he kisses you as if you’re a long lost love. Deeply, slowly. Then, he’s putting one hand at the small of your back, nudging his knee right back between your legs, and pulling you right up against him. 

“Who did you cum for?” Sunghoon asks, pulling back just to lick against your lips and stare directly down at you. “Say my name.”

You don’t hesitate, echoing out with a winced expression, still so out of breath while rubbing your clit to the expanse of his thigh. 

“Su-Sunghoo-Sunghoon-” 

“Yeah?” He encourages you, hearing his name heat his ears up. He moves his pussy-slicked fingers to your mouth while you cry his name, and easily presses your tongue down with them, sliding the digits further and further down your throat. “Sunghoon.” He says his own name. “Say it again.”

You gag around his fingers, unable to obey his demand. 

“Sung–” He inspects the way your tongue struggles against the intrusion in your mouth. “Hoon.” 

You swallow around them now, sputtering, tears now running down the outer apples of your cheeks. He watches you do it too, wondering how good that would feel if it were his cock you’re swallowing around. Knowing you’d probably do it for him if he wanted to right now. 

But…he needs more than that. Despite how delicious you look while gagging, his cock has been neglected and he needs to fuck out the stress from the past however long you’ve been avoiding him. It’s like his brain breaks with the action as he watches you take his fingers in whatever way he offers. You let him do whatever he wants. You’re obeying. 

“Up.” He suddenly says, pulling all physical contact with you away as he turns, steps out of the pants restricting his ankles, and swipes every pen, file, and picture frame off his desk. “Come here, baby.”

You feel like you’re melted to this chair right now, in all honesty. You’re still trying to catch your breath just from touching his cock before he decided to make you see fucking stars, to think you can stand right now is insane.

So, when you don’t immediately hop up and throw yourself onto his desk, he turns to look at you. 

You’re splayed out, legs still spread, toes still curled. Your chest is heaving to breathe, eyes wild and lips so fucking kissable. 

“Oh, fuck.” He sighs to himself in realization, relishing in the image of you he’s only recently been craving. “Look at you.”

You lift your arm to hide your face, feeling apologetic for the way you’ve lost the ability to exist as an active participant right now. Even more apologetic when you glance down at how fucking hard his cock is. Raging hard, so pretty with the tip sputtering precum for god knows how long. 

He watches you stare, and lends you a few moments to catch your breath by gripping it himself. Leaning himself against his desk and twisting his wrist with a tight grip at the base. 

“Is this how you looked at me when I did this before?” He asks, flicking his wrist still with each drag. “So out of it, you look like such a mess, babe.”

You find yourself humming a confirmation to him as you watch, almost reverting back to who you were during that first session. Unseen, only heard, all while you got to see him pleasure himself to almost nothing. You gave him nothing. 

You’ve still only given him nothing. 

And so, very slowly, you force yourself to stand on shaking legs to take those two strides to his desk. Something inside of you tingles when he drops his cock and opens his arms for you, like a good boss would do in this situation. Supporting your unbalanced weight, letting you walk into his comforting grasp. 

“Said my name so pretty, you know.” He comments gently when he holds you close to him. Hands reaching down from the grip around your waist just to grab both of your fleshy ass checks and squeeze them. “You want more, yes?”

He’s quick to the point, only allowing the short and sweet moments to last just enough for them to stick in your head. Just enough to have questions about his actions. Just enough to give him anything, everything, he could want if it involves your body.

You nod almost shyly, dipping your head down and leaning against his chest. 

“Let's get this off of you then.” He smiles with a gentle voice, reaching to the hem of your shirt and pulling it straight up, watching how you lift your arms to help him. “Mhm–” He hums again, loving how the bra drags off of you along with the shirt. He lets both of his hands brush your nipples before he goes back to gripping your ass cheeks and spreading them. 

Spreading them so wide that, once again, you have to lift on your toes just to let him play with your body. Which, oh man. Always wearing his button down shirts, his blazers, his long-sleeve shirts. You can’t help it when you tug at the opened fabric of his shirt, asking silently that he shake it off. Wanting to see his arms, wanting to see the strength in them.

And he does it without hesitation, letting his hands fall from you just for a moment to shake his shirt off, only now hugging against you again and forcing a position change. He turns both of you so now you’re up against his desk, and he’s standing in front of you.

It’s easy for him to push you back in a kiss. Your legs open for him on instinct anyway, so he need not worry about prying those legs open again. You do just as expected when he pushes you too. Your ass hits the desk and you lift on your toes to sit on it. Your legs spread wider, making room for him to step even closer, cock right up against you when he closes any amount of distance, and still? He’s kissing you. 

All across your face, down your neck, back to your lips. And his hands just keep feeling. Massaging your tits, lending small taps to your ass, holding your chin, jaw, neck, and then…he runs them through your hair. 

The feeling is so good you almost forget how you’ve been trying to steal a glimpse of his flexing arms as he grabs at you. Goosebumps prickle and you let out a groan at the pleasure of it. He keeps one hand there now, smiling against his kiss to your ear. 

“You like being pampered?” He asks, now gripping a fist full of your hair and skewing your neck to the side. “Like being moved around like a puppet?”

Never once have you thought about your sex life that way, but when you think about it…maybe. After all, you did enjoy being told when and how to touch yourself, being allowed or forbidden from cumming. Now, with him quite literally moving you around with just a simple grip of your hair? Yeah. 

“By you–” You mutter out as you open your eyes, staring at the ceiling and feeling his tongue lap against your earlobe. 

“Just me?” He leans back, using that same grip in your hair to force you to look at him. “You’d give me that power?”

You nod against the grasp, lips falling open in a moan despite not being pleasured by anything aside from the stinging against your scalp as he pulls little hairs a bit too tightly. 

“You know–” Sunghoon starts now, pressing his hips forward, dropping his other hand to his cock and slapping it right against your weeping cunt. “If I had known you were this dirty...”He sighs out at the image in his head, thinking back to all those times he silently complimented you in his head. Back then, never would he have made comments about your legs out loud, or how your tits would look in certain shirts. Thinking back now, he’s always found you quite beautiful.

Quite fuckable, even. 

You listen to the silence waiting for him to continue, feeling the way he presses the hardened head of his length against your clit repeatedly. 

“I would have propped you up on this desk months ago,” He smiles now, leaning in real close to your ear as his grip in your hair loosens just a bit. “Could’ve had you moaning my name this whole time.”

Then, you feel it. The way he adjusts his weeping cock lower, prodding at your hole just a bit until his tip is entirely enveloped by your clenching walls. 

You swallow a moan and hold your breath, legs shooting around his waist and instinctively trying to force his hips to move forward, trying to force him to penetrate you deeper.

“Shh,” He coos out, holding his hips firm and not letting you control his movements. Then, he kisses just under your ear before peppering them all the way back to your lips. He doesn’t kiss you though, no, he chuckles at you for trying. Watching you let your tongue fall from your mouth, inspecting the way you’re entirely in tune for him right now. “You really want it, don’t you?” He whispers just above your lips. “Want me to fuck you right here, right now?”

You nod absentmindedly, legs still trying to force him to move, arms clinging under his biceps, head still forced into whatever position he keeps it in by the hair. 

“Please–Sunghoon.” You cry in a small voice, feeling as if you’re going insane by the feeling of his tip sitting comfortably in you. 

“You’re so cute.” He smiles, lending you another inch of his length before letting his hand fall from your hair. There, he grips your waist instead, letting a strained grunt fall from his own lips this time. He’s really trying to remain collected about this, and he’s unsure himself why he’s enjoying the act of teasing you like this. He feels like he’s teasing himself more than you right now, seeing as how it’s taking everything in him not to stuff his cock into you hard and fast. “So–so, fucking cute.”

You clench around the few inches in you and it appears that’s all he needed to break entirely. Is he controlling you, or are you controlling him? 

Honestly, who gives a fuck?

You feel his arms shake when he plants them at either side of you, pointing his cock straight into you and sliding in fully. There’s a groan from him that you want to hear so badly, but your own heart beat is thumping in your ears so loudly that you miss half of it. 

The stretch is delicious, and the fact that it’s Sunghoon doing this to you makes this all the more enjoyable. The man who you’ve seen day after day, now holding himself up on the desk you’ve signed papers on with and for him? All so he can angle his hips and shove his cock in? Just to let his arms frantically wrap around your waist? Just so he can scoot you forward on this desk, using your leaking slick to slide you back and forth in time with his hips? 

That groan you wanted to hear? He hasn’t stopped. He’s essentially, controlling the entire situation and when you half open your eyes to witness his face, you’re forced to roll your eyes back in a moan matching his. 

He’s fucking you so deeply right now that all you can do is moan, all you can do is forget the embarrassment, the victimization, the way he’s doing this to you despite the risk of reality crumbling. He could lose his job, you could lose yours, and yet still– he’s fucking you like he doesn’t care.

So, you choose not to care either in the form of grabbing his hair, forcing his head back, and attaching your lips right against his adams apple. You feel him swallow and breathe out a shocked sound, and then? You suck.

Intentionally, you suck, bite, and lick, harder and harder until there’s a deep purple mark there. He doesn’t even fight it, though you feel him try to move his head just to keep you from going too insane with it. You don’t care though, because still you feel his cock splitting you open, forcing you to adjust to him. 

“Ah,” Sunghoon lets out another breath with that familiar chuckle, “Marking me now?” 

You hum a confirmation as you move to a new spot on his neck, absolutely fucking marking him. Feeling devastated by the idea that he’d do this with any other employee. Or any other person in general. 

“Making me all yours, huh?” He continues with his cocky words, feeling the way your pussy clenches him tightly, dripping all over his desk. He’d let you make him yours, with or without the bruising from your mouth. 

“Mhm.” You hum pleasantly, letting out little yelps each time he slams into you. Letting out full moans each time his arms wrap around your waist tighter. 

You continue with the act, littering his pretty neck with your touch and loving how he just lets you. Knowing that he’ll show up at work tomorrow looking a bit tired, but glowing nonetheless, trying to hide all these marks with that tight-necked collar he likes to wear. 

“Whatever you want.” He breathes, letting his hips lose rhythm for just a moment as he feels his muscles tighten. “Fuck, you’re still so tight.” 

You feel like you’re on top of the world as he compliments you, to the point you’re not sure when you’ll cum because your whole body has seemingly been feeling euphoria anyway. Everything feels good, even if his cock reaches deep enough to cause little jolts of pain. The sound of the desk scooting back through the force of his hips is enough to make you take it. Enough to squeeze your legs around him tighter, enough to clench, enough to– forget what you’re doing and let yourself fall into it with him.

Your head falls back from his neck and you pant out little half-calls of his name with each thrust. Your legs loosen from around him too, but his grip on your waist only pushes you back on his desk. Until he’s leaning forward so hard with each thrust that suddenly your back meets the cold wood.

Sandwiched between him and his desk, he follows the action, his hands quickly moving from your waist to your tits, pushing them together just so he can nuzzle his face between them.

There, you look at him. You really look at him. 

What a messy, messy, man. Always so pristine during working hours, now looking so wrecked and out of it as he chases a pleasure that you hope only you can give to him. 

“Mr. Park–” You sigh out in a pleasant voice, watching the way he sucks your tit into his mouth before his eyes open wide just so he can look up at you through each thrust. “Harder.”

You can physically see the way his eyes darken when he pops off from your tit, hands now going back to the desk as he hovers over you and intentionally rolls his hips. 

You feel his cock loosen you up painfully before he intentionally fucks into you. Dragging all the way out, just to push forward in a deep and painful thrust. Over and over again, all while he’s staring straight into your eyes.

As you look up at him, you see the intent in his face. The way he wants to give you exactly what you want. Sweat shining from his cheeks, his neck littered with pretty colors. Oh, he’s actually heavenly when he fucks. 

Better than what you thought that guy on camera would have been. He’s not nonchalant like he was when he was performing. He’s entirely in tune with you and what you want. Like what you want is what he wants. 

You can tell he’s paying no mind to his own face or expression, blatantly putting all of his thoughts into how he’s pleasuring you, his eyes searching your face to tell him he’s doing well. To tell him you feel good, to tell him you’re close or–

“Fuck–” He sighs out, teeth tracing his bottom lip as he glances up, keeping pace with the way he’s been plunging into you. “I can’t keep looking at you,”

You smile, feeling dazed and far away. It feels like it’s just you and him. You’re not in his office, on a desk, or doing anything you shouldn’t be doing. 

“You hear me?” He drops his body weight on you again, letting his hips move freely as he chases and chases. “I’m so close.”

Oh. 

“Then look at me.” You huff out, now shooting a hand between his flexed abs and simply…touching your clit once.

 “Oh–shit.” 

It hits you so fast. Just a simple touch causes your pussy to clench Sunghoon so tightly that he mimics your sound. 

“Ah, fuck- fuck,” His voice sounds frantic as he tries to pull out, only to feel your legs shoot back around him. This time, he lets you force him to stay. He lets those legs of yours push him back in, so deep that he knows he can’t fight. “No, no–” He chokes out, uncaring if his hips show you that he’s lying with his words. “I’m cumming– I need to–”

“Stay!” You shake beneath him but your voice sounds pleading, pressing once more to your clit before letting it go. You clench him again, essentially letting your body finish him off. Letting those clenches squeeze him so tightly, making sure he couldn’t fathom ever wasting his cum. “Don’t pull out.”

He doesn’t. In fact, he presses impossibly deeper, trying to bury his cock into you to the point it even pains him. Arms shaking as he tries to hold himself up again, only to drop his lips to yours under his own weight. His hips are so tense between your legs, his cock is so stiff that you can feel each pumped release, and still you’re experiencing your own euphoria through it. 

To the point your toes are curling and you barely notice the way you leave welts across his back from your fingernails through the intense orgasm. To the point his slack lips against yours feel more natural than anything else. Not kissing, just close. So close that–

He kisses you. 

After it’s all said and done, he still kisses you breathlessly. Passionately almost, clinging to you as his cock twitches as it grows flaccid inside of you.

He doesn’t pull out, he just…kisses.

And as you lay against his wooden desk, body coming down from the pleasure you’ve felt more than once within the past hour, all you can do is let your brain think on its own. Without shame, without embarrassment or anxiety. 

You thought Sunghoon would have been in control the whole time. Teasing you, maybe even making this experience more painful than it needs to be. But no, he…

He’s soft. Gentle, almost. 

Only now do you recognize that as badly as he probably wants to appear harsh, like the confident man he is on camera, you think he needs something else. Not just power, not just money or control. Not even just fucking. 

You think…maybe, Sunghoon needs connection. 

Intimacy. 

And that’s proven when he does finally stand on his own buckled knees, pulling you up with him into a hug where he still kisses you. Up until he takes that shirt you unbuttoned and holds it between your legs, scratching the back of his neck with a shy glance at you. 

“Sorry for the mess.” He echoes in a meek voice, holding that shirt firm against you. “Guess I just couldn’t help myself.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Days later, you find yourself in his bed. Which should have been expected probably. Still doesn’t change the fact that every few hours, you remind yourself the reality of the situation.

It’s not just any bed you’re in. It’s Sunghoon’s bed. 

“Oh, right. The promotion.” Sunghoon suddenly calls out mid-episode. 

You’ve been here with him all day. To the point neither of you bother to put on clothes now because you know the spark will come back at any given time and you’ll be all over each other again. Still, lazing in his bed with him on a Saturday afternoon is nice. 

“I’ve been a bit occupied but– the interviews for the assistant position has been pushed back a bit due to you not coming to work.  I was supposed to notify you when you got back, but you know, we had priorities–” 

Sunghoon sighs, embarrassed. It’s nice actually, seeing him in his natural element. Allowing you to see him as more than just the guy that wears a suit and tie every day at work. 

“Unrelated to us…doing this, but, you’re up for the interview. Just need to schedule it with me. If you still want to be my assistant, I mean.”

“Oh, I can only imagine what that could entail.”

Sunghoon seems offended by this remark as he pulls back with furrowed brows.

“Excuse me?”

“Did you fuck the last one too?” You give him a playful smile, prodding at his soft-skinned chest.

“Absolutely not?!” 

“You’re still gonna fuck me too though, right? Even if I’m constantly having to nag you for signatures and meetings?” 

Sunghoon stares at you before smiling. 

“Well, let's see if you get the job anyway. Rhonda from Marketing is applying too.”

You lend a half-joke gag at him. 

“Is it too forward to ask for special attention for the position along with a sexual favor?” You tread the thin line. “I’m half joking but wouldn’t it be like…normal for us to be seen around each other at work if I’m working a job that requires it?”

Sunghoon thinks hard.

“You’re really asking to fuck your way up the ladder?”

“Aren’t you the one who offered it so I wouldn’t tell your dirty little secret?” You narrow your eyes at him. “But no, I’m asking for the job I’ve been trying to earn for ages. Besides, I’d still fuck you anyway.”

“Fair.” Sunghoon thinks harder still. “Rhonda would probably find out too, if she were to get the position anyway, considering my assistants are often intertwined in my personal business as well.”

“Oh, I’m personal business now?”

“Babe, my hand has been on your tit for an hour now.” 

Well, he’s not wrong.

“Rhonda is really close with HR too…” You trail off, feeling a bit anxious. “I think she’d hold it over both of us if she found out.” 

“In all fairness, you’ve been considered for the job more than a few times the past few months. Rhonda only applied during your two week avoidance of me. The reason she’s even up for the position is because my boss thinks you’re too flaky.” 

Oh, so you have a chance with or without putting his dick in your mouth again?

“Who else has applied?”

“Confidential.” Sunghoon shrugs. “I still have to follow company rules even if we’re breaking a few of them right now. What I can tell you is, over fifteen other candidates have already been phased out by me personally.” 

You pause.

“Why?”

“Bad matches, mostly. Two of them have been caught talking shit about me through the company emails, and the others? Many outside applicants, all freshman college students with strict schedules.”

“Being my assistant is not an easy job, and even before all of this, you’ve practically been doing the job already, better than the current assistant I have.”

You damn fucking right you have.

“How many are still in the running?”

“Two.”

Oh, this job is soooooo yours. 

“Just, one more thing.” Sunghoon sighs. “If you get this job, we cannot be fucking in my office. No sexual stuff at work. We can take lunch together, or I’ll bring you home after work, but absolutely nothing at work.”

Oh, he thinks you want him that badly? 

“Who says I need to fuck you during work hours anyway? I know how to control myself.”

“It’s not you who I’m worried about.” Sunghoon looks away, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Yeah?” You smile. “You gonna be calling me into your office just to torture yourself?”

“Oh, absolutely.” 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

pls remember to leave feedback and reblog! :D love you!

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 07:02 A.M 」

based on an ask but i can't find the post :') and i'm working on remarried empress au i promise :'D so please make do with this first. anyways, more domestic dad!gojo and reader ahead~

a part of gojo's love entries

“mph, so cold...”

satoru was awoken by the chill biting at his whole body as he realized he was naked from the waist up, and saw that you, vast asleep, were hogging the whole blanket to cocoon yourself.

this is why i’m freezing! but eh...

and then he really saw you. curling up with messy hair, lips adorably pursed even in your sleep, and overall, you looked so soft and vulnerable in his eyes.

mine, all mine... satoru didn’t need to blink to see you better but he did anyway, and the sight brought a fond smile to his face. you were rightly exhausted after last night and he quietly snickered to himself, thinking of your mewls. out of cuteness aggression, he hugged you along with your blanket and planted kisses on your face.

“mm, ahh...” you groaned, and he dived in to suck your neck.

your smooth skin and soft pants... gods, he just wanted to gobble you all over again—

“go... awaay...” but then you flipped your body away from him, mumbling and hiding your head under the blanket altogether.

satoru was left reeling at the refusal, heartbrokenly pouting, but then he heard the pitter patter of tiny steps and immediately looked at the door to find his cute son curiously opening the door and peeking his head inside.

ah, another one of his great blessings.

“hey you.” satoru grinned immediately as his toddler’s round blue eyes widened in slight surprise. “why are you awake so early? come here.”

“yaaay!” the munchkin cheered at the invitation and was really about to jump into the bed when he sat up to stop him. “shh, don't be too loud!”

“—?” his boy looked at him with a sad frown as he picked him up and placed him on the bed next to him.

“oh no, don’t be sad. just let mama sleep longer, yeah? she’s tired.”

“mm, why?”

“why? well, she didn’t get enough sleep, that’s why.”

“but you sleep together...?”

“hmm~ we played a game a bit before sleeping and it ate all her energy.”

satoru mentally did a victory pose as his minion no longer questioned him, but then his clear eyes were transfixed on his bare body. “papa, you nakey...?”

your curious son was adorable in every way. he inherited your natural cuteness and satoru wanted nothing more than indulging him but...

he suddenly engulfed him in a bear hug and squeezed him tightly, making him almost squeal.

“yes! and now i’m cold so you’re my new heater!”

“waaaaa nooo!”

it was a morning just like any other day, with his baby and his wife, and yet satoru knew that surely today was going to be a good day.

“minion, you do know i love you and your mama veeeery much, don’t you?~”

epilogue

it happened during breakfast. you were sitting your son in his high chair and about to prepare simple omelet for the three of you to share when you heard it—

“mamaaa, what game did you and papa play? wanna play too!” your innocent boy asked with gummy smile, and you cocked your head in confusion.

“game...?”

“papa said you played a game together... at night!”

you honestly couldn’t connect the dots together, so you turned to your husband for help... but satoru merely awkwardly chuckled to himself.

“papa said... the game makes you tired and ate your energy!”

tired? ate energy? the gears in your head were turning and you came to a conclusion so quick as you shot a glare at satoru.

“well, it is a game your papa really enjoys,” you scathingly replied, not looking away from him as he inwardly gulped. but oho, you were in no forgiving mood this morning and so you wickedly smirked.

“let’s try to ask him about it. so, papa, what did we play again, hmm?”

[comicaurora]

So uhh. If you feel like talking about it. As someone who lives in the US, how are you being kind to yourself on this upsetting morning <3

Checked in with my loved ones first and foremost.

It's interesting. The vibe I've been getting from my circle is very different from 2016. Much less… dread and horror at a realignment of the understanding of what can and can't happen here, now, in this place and day and age. More "fuck, guys. again? whatever. enjoy your consequences, maybe you'll manage to learn something this time."

Frustration and anger is not the most positive feeling, or even the most fair one to express, but it is a protective one. It hurts a lot less than most alternatives.

And it's quite a shift. It was earthshattering back then. How could this have been allowed to happen? Why couldn't it be stopped? Why couldn't we stop it? Why couldn't I stop it? Why couldn't everyone see what this meant? Why couldn't I make them understand? Did they really not care? What did that mean about humanity as a whole? Were we so thoughtless? How could anyone be trusted?

It seems… much less earthshattering to see it happen twice. Disappointing, sure. Frustrating. But nowhere near as devastating as the first time I saw it unfold. We already knew it could happen. I've already had time to digest the implications. Now I'm just freshly disappointed.

It also feels less indicative of Crushing Truths Of Reality this time. We've seen shit get bad. We've also seen shit get better from here! We know both outcomes are possible, even inevitable. We know hoping for a better future is always worthwhile. This isn't the apocalypse. It's an unremarkably bad turn of events brought on by unremarkably self-centered well-documented human impulses. It's utterly mundane in its unpleasantness. It doesn't need to be dignified with despair.

A democratic election, no matter the outcome or the side we're on, makes us all acutely aware of how outnumbered we are by people whose worldviews and priorities are demonstrably incomprehensible to us. And the first time you get outnumbered, it's a shock. Defeat is haunting. It didn't matter how badly you wanted it; by the very function of democracy, you do not have the power to override greater numbers. (insert electoral college caveat here)

The second time through, I find myself focusing on a different facet that has dramatically reduced the amount of spiralling I'm doing. I don't expect this to work for everyone, but for me specifically, it helped to crystallize a few thoughts:

You don't have the power to control anyone else. You don't. You can't share your worldview and your revelations with them. You can't make them think or understand anything. You can lay it all out for them, but you can't make them listen, and you can't make it click. A mentor can't make their student learn a lesson; that's why teaching is so complicated and hard. An active choice must be made by the person to enable themselves to understand, and they must put the pieces together in their own mind before it makes sense to them, and the pieces must have been presented in a way that makes sense to them in the first place. Lead a horse to water, can't make them drink.

These elections highlight a disconnect in what different groups of people care about; and no matter how clearly you explain yourself or how passionately you perform, caring cannot be forced on someone. Understanding and connection cannot be forced. You cannot make anything or anyone matter to someone. They have to choose to see how it matters in order to internalize it. If they choose not to, that is not your failing. You couldn't have made them do it by just Explaining Better. They are not your responsibility. They make their own choices. You can't reach inside their head and connect the dots for them.

I'm a storyteller. I make stories and put them out into the world. I hope people get something good out of them, but I have no control over what that something is. I want people to be thoughtful and kind and compassionate and hopeful and see themselves reflected in stranges, no matter their differences. I can craft stories that I hope encourage this. But that is the extent of my ability and the extent of my responsibility. I control no-one's actions but my own, and so while I am not having the best day, I am at least content that I am doing what I can, and I am not shattering myself against impossibilities trying to control the things I can't.

Sometimes, people make decisions that I think are really bad. I can't make that not happen. All I can do is try to make decisions that will result in things I think are good. Today, that means checking in on people, and not assigning too much dramatic narrative weight to an ultimately mundane set of unremarkable bad decisions outside of my control. We'll take life as it comes and help each other out when and how we can. Everything else is out of our hands.

[bananami]

The One Where Bakugo is Different With You (and your friends kinda called it but are too dumb to fully connect the dots) katsuki x fem!reader

No one understands what it is you did to make him like you. You insist that you didn't do anything. They don't believe you.

Bakugo isn't nice to anyone. He tolerates people. Sometimes. In fact, it's not like he's even nice to you. But he is different. And everyone has noticed.

"That's her seat, get up." He snaps at Mineta as the boy sits down next to him.

"What, she has to sit next to you?"

"Get. Up."

Mineta doesn't hesitate.

You've known him as long as the rest of them, but for some reason he seems softer toward you. Kirishima is the first to bring it up to him.

"Do you like her or something?"

"She's my friend, of course I like her."

"Denki is your friend, you don't like him."

"Hey!" Denki yells from the other side of the couch.

Bakugo just grits his teeth and doesn't respond.

Even when riffing with him, he takes what you say differently than he does with everyone else.

"What if I just cracked this egg over your head?"

He looks down at you. "I'd be impressed that you could reach."

"That hot head would probably fry it." Sero laughs at his own joke.

Sparks began to form from the explosion hero's good hand. "I will blast you out of this building!"

And forget about anyone else asking him for anything. He doesn't really do favors, not unless he's hounded to do them. But for you?

"I'm hungry."

Bakugo stands from the couch and holds out his hand to pull you up with him. "Let's go try the new sushi place down the block."

Or

"I have an interview with the talkshow next week but they want me there at like six in the morning."

He doesn't even look up from his phone, where he's opening his calendar to schedule himself off of work that day. "I'll stay by your place and drive you in the morning."

OR

A bag falls into your lap and the blonde plops down next to you. "They were on sale."

You open the bag to find your favorite candies, letting out an excited squeal. "They've been out the last two weeks."

"I told the guy to call me when he got a box in."

Denki tries to reach his hand out for a box but it's slapped away by the larger blonde. "Touch it or her and I will personally cut off that hand."

And then there's Kirishima's personal favorite interactions to watch. Something Bakugo has done since living in the dorms at UA, through your roommate years where all of you split an apartment to save up money.

Bakugo would get up to leave the room and stop in the doorway, staring directly at you. "Are you coming?"

"Where are we going?"

"Check your phone."

You would look down at your phone and laugh every time. "Are you embarrassed to say it in front of everyone?"

"Shut the fuck up and get over here!"

Everyone could read between the lines, and his blush on his cheeks.

But you'd never officially dated. Anytime any of the friend group would ask about it, you'd both deny it and change the subject. Kirishima and Mina would narrow their eyes in suspicion at you and one another.

"You just treat her different than everyone else." Kiri would point out.

"Friends don't look at each other the way you two do, especially not Bakugo." Mina would accuse.

The answers were always the same.

"Mind your own shitty business." Bakugo would snap.

"You all just look too much into things. He can be nice at times." You would always insist.

It would take all the way up until a random work party Bakugo's agency was holding for the truth to come out. For Denki to walk in on the two of you in the bathroom-

"Practically devouring each other! It was disgusting!"

Bakugo rolled his eyes. His arms rested around the back of the couch with you tucked close into his side. "See this is why we kept it a secret for so many years, you're all being so dramatic about it."

"Years?!" Mina screamed. "How many years has this been a thing?"

You tried to avoid all eye contact with her.

"Since high school." Bakugo replied with ease.

"Since high school?!" Your friends gaped.

"When we were all living in the dorms?" Denki asked.

"Used to meet up on the old training grounds to make out."

"The apartment we all shared?" Kirishima narrowed his eyes.

"Snuck into each other's rooms like every single night, can't believe you guys never caught us then."

"When we all were interning at the same agencies?" Sero threw out there.

"Bribed the scheduling team to put the two of us on the same routes."

"Ok wait, but you guys told us you weren't and you used to talk about the different people you would go on dates with right in front of each other- oh my fucking god." Mina facepalmed.

Bakugo laughed maniacally as you tried to hold yours in.

"So you were talking about each other? Every single time?"

"Every. Single. Time."

Mina sighed. "This is actually insane, I can't believe you never said anything."

"I mean it's not like we should be that surprised, besides," Kirishima chimed in, "it's not like they're secretly engaged to be married or anything, right?"

Silence.

"Right?" Kirishima's smile falters a bit. "Please tell me you two aren't engaged."

Bakugo blinks a few times before responding. "Ok, we're not engaged."

"Bakugo!"

"Did you think I was just really nice to her all the time for no reason?"

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny Pt.9

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.10]

"Fan-sea meeting you here. You must be Phantom!"

Danny slowly turned around, grin blinding. "I shore am. Who's asking?"

Danny knew exactly who was asking. Bludhaven's vigilante, Nightwing. If the giant dark blue bird emblazoned on the front of his suit didn't give it away, the friendly demeanor and the puns would have. Plus, now that Danny's figured out who Tim was, the rest were pretty simple dots to be connected.

"Hi. I'm Nightwing. Thanks for saving Batman."

"I am Phantom. You are welcome. Please lecture him on the necessity of keeping the waters clean."

"Uh, I think he knows," Nightwing grinned. “So, why are you cleaning Gotham’s bay? I heard the Atlantic is nice this time of year.”

“Exactly. This?” Danny flapped a gloved hand around them, specifically at the moldy docks and the paint scraped board. “This is not nice. If it were nice, I wouldn’t need to be cleaning it. Look at that paint! It’s flaking off into the water! Does Gotham not have proper boat maintainance? That’s dangerous for the waters and seafarers!”

“Woah, you know a lot about boats,” Nightwing commented, crossing his arms and leaning back. What the hero didn’t know was that he knew more about boats than Danny did, as Danny’s hyper fixation was more focused on space ships and Dick had education à la maison de Bruce Wayne which usually meant an absurd amount of information for someone who doesn’t actually use boats as a regular mode of transportation.

“Rust! Rust is very much a thing!” Danny ranted, using his ice to scoop up water and using it like a makeshift filter. “It weakens bonds! It’s a tetanus hazard! And oh, don’t even get me started on how you people mutated the ocean life!”

“Mutated ocean life? I’m pretty sure we hadn’t. It’s just a little weird, right?”

Without another word, Danny dove into the weird ecosystem that was the Gotham bay. He came back holding a wriggling green thing the size of a worm.

“Do you know what this is?” Danny demanded. The thing flopped around on his gloved hands.

“A sea monkey?”

“They’re brine shrimp. Brine. Shrimp. Do you know what regular brine shrimp look like???” Danny shoved the thing at Nightwing, who took a step back.

“Not like that?” He replied, a quizzical look on his face.

“No, not like that! What in the ancients is this?!” Danny waved the weird sea brine that had started glowing faintly, like Danny’s natural ectoplasm glow. “Far be it from me of all people to judge evolution but this was all man made!” Danny gently tossed the brine shrimp back into the bay. “Brine shrimp is staple food for the ocean! You’ve got weird brine shrimp? You’ve got weird fish! Why is it impossible for this place to, for even one day, refrain from dumping hazardous chemicals or dead bodies in the water?”

“Ooookay, how about we take a breather?” Nightwing quickly glanced around, trying to find something to change the subject, feeling oddly guilty at the earnest expression on the kid’s face. “Uh, I was actually wondering if you’d swing by the waters near Blüd?”

Danny crossed his arms. “I clean the waters as a past time because you humans don’t know how to keep it clean. I am not a personal, on call, seakeeper.”

“Batman will pay you for your time,” Dick offered. Danny straightened. Amity didn’t actually cost that much to live well, but Gotham was a whole other ball park. The rent might be dirt cheap for a city, but the special pricey little add ons such as gas masks and space level insulation on top of the sky high insurance policies were draining what’s left of his half dead soul. As they say, Danny was a city dweller first and Phantom second.

“How much, when, and I won’t fish up the bodies unless he pays me extra.”

“Four thousand base pay, extra one hundred per identity, fifty for bodies with no shades, and on the weekends.”

Danny straightened as his mother’s steel spine, Jazz’s whip sharp wit, and his own craftiness made their appearance as he bargained. “Five thousand. Rate agreed, but I can only do every other weekends and I’ll have to call out some days.”

“Okay.” Nightwing rocked back on his heels with an affable smile. It’s Bruce’s money and it’s going towards his probable future baby brother, after all, even if said baby brother is a dead immortal Atlantis founder. Or something.

Danny groaned. “You are supposed to bargain back. But I’ll take it.”

“Great! Who do we got tonight?” Nightwing looked down at the plastic/burlap wrapped person Danny dragged onto the shores a bit ago.

“The lake kept the body cold, so it should be preserved adequately if you want to examine him,” Danny tilted his head to the side, the flames of his hair tilting with him. “He said his name is Gorganzo Bean.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s a nickname he got for eating a whole can of beans straight.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it. Any more details?”

“Sure.”

When Danny reached to take the money from Nightwing, he found that the hero had tightened his grip on it.

Danny pointedly dropped his gaze from Nightwing’s face to the money.

“Wait. I- I heard from a source that you could possibly smell souls.”

Danny yanked the cash out of Nightwing’s hand and shoved it into his shoulder. If that didn’t confirm Nightwing’s identity, he doesn’t know what would other than the guy telling Danny who he was. “You’ve been speaking with Danny. Yes, I can.”

“Can you tell what’s wrong with my brother?” Nightwing blurted out.

Danny stared at him, his legs flickering in and out to his tail form. “…Other than dressing in probably leather or Kevlar and going out to beat criminals with his bare hands?”

Nightwing opened and closed his mouth. He coughed awkwardly. “Other than that. Why is he- um, stinky? Soul-wise,” Nightwing added, clearly humoring the tinny little voice at the base of his temples that was an annoyed Red Hood saying that he showered. “He showers often. And is definitely not stinky body odor wise.”

“I am not a doctor. Well, not now anyways,” Danny said, thinking about his future PhD. “But he’s got a… soul infection. His natural immunity- all souls have a natural immunity against regular outside influences- is working hard to repel the equivalence of chronic bronchitis.”

“There’s… no way to help him?”

“I never said that,” Danny tilted his head. “Bring your brother to meet Danny. He could probably handle it.”

“The civilian?”

“His parents hunted my kind, once. He helped protect me and my people. If anyone knows how to cure it, it would be him.”

Phantom could not afford to deal with this right now, because Danny had a presentation tomorrow that he needed to finish.

“Oh. Thank you, Phantom.” Nightwing said, looking relieved and pensive. Danny decided right then and there that was Future Danny’s problem.

Danny nodded distractedly, blinking out.

He blinked back in. Nightwing jerked back. “Do you happen to have any examples of corrupt politicians in Gotham?”

Nightwing blinked before laughing. “It’d probably be easier to name the ones that aren’t.”

“Good to know. Thank you!”

——

A couple of days later, Tim and two older guys ambushed him in the quad.

“Hi! I’m Dick! This is my brother Jason! We’re Tim’s older brothers!”

Danny looked down at his hand- trapped in an overexcited handshake- and back up at Dick.

Whatever expression he was making, it must have been ha-fucking-larious because Tim and Jason burst out into laughter. Danny cursed his past self.

“Yeah?” Danny blinked. Wait. His smile grew and he made a face like he just realized something. “Oh. So you’re Nightwing?”

The laughter cut off.

“Haha, what?”

“Phantom told me you’d be coming but I, uh, thought you’d be in gear. Not… straight up telling me who you are?”

“You’re in regular contact with Phantom?” Tim demanded.

“Yeah, dude. After you- wait, you’re Red Robin!” Danny whispered.

“Oh shit, B’s gonna be pissed,” Jason drawled, looking mildly amused and hiding an extremely cautious, possibly lethal (if it weren’t for the fact that Danny’s pretty much impossible to kill with regular weapons) reaction.

“You’re one to talk. I’d smell your soul no matter what your disguise was.”

“…About that.”

——

You might be wondering: wouldn’t Dick know not to show up in civvies?

Yes. Except for the fact that Tim stalked Danny for weeks after he met Phantom and Danny hadn’t hung out with (himself) at all. They think Danny doesn’t know Phantom well enough to even talk to him much, despite being from the same town because: they’re all big city kids and have never experienced small town solidarity and, more importantly, gossip grapevines + they have no idea these two are the same people.

A deleted scene:

“When did you have time to talk to Phantom?” Tim demanded. Jason nudged Tim. That had hinted too much at what Tim was doing on his off hours and stalking was usually frowned upon.

“When I wasn’t talking to you, duh.”

[coldfanbou]

Saleswoman

Who would've thought Yuna made a good saleswoman...Well, I would have. Anyway, here's the fic for the week; originally, I was thinking of doing a Yuna gangbang fic, but then Eros presented a saleswoman concept I liked in a writer discord and thought would be easier than a gangbang.

Length 2.1K

Yuna X Mreader

Having seen good reviews about the new mattress store, you look up the location. Your mattress has had a depression in it after years of use, and you needed another. The reviews praise the staff for their help in deciding. You set aside time to head out, ensuring you researched the different types of beds beforehand. You arrive at the store just a few minutes after they open; you take in the grand scale of it. You next notice how empty it was, considering the many reviews you thought the store would be full. You don’t even see any workers as you walk through. 

Shaking your head, you move through the store and look at all the different bed models. They had various kinds of technology, all meant to aid sleep, or so they claimed. You tested a few beds laying on them to see how they felt. You had decided beforehand you wanted something that was a little firmer, so you focused on those. As you tested another out, you shut your eyes, imagining what it would be like to sleep on it for years. This one was too firm, having very little give. You open your eyes to see the face of a young woman staring back at you. “Hi! Welcome!” She greets you. You jump, shocked that you hadn’t noticed her walk up to you. “Oh, sorry for scaring you. My name is Yuna, and I’ll be your special aid today.” She says with a wide grin. You look the woman over as she fixes her hair. Yuna didn’t look like someone who worked her. She wore a white sleeveless crop top from a nearby university and matching white shorts. Her red hair stood out against her clothing, attracting attention to her face. 

“I saw you lay on a few models. Did any of them interest you further?” Yuna asks, her hand behind her back as she listens to your response.

“Well, there was the smart bed and one over there.” You say, pointing out a mattress that wasn’t too firm or soft. “The second one is what I’m leaning toward. It’s a lot cheaper.”

“That’s true, sir, but the smart bed is much better for your sleep and other activities.” She states. 

You find her comment odd, “Other activities?” It takes you a moment to connect the dots; when you realize what Yuna meant, she nods.

“Yes, sir. I did mean that.” She states, “Now, if you’d like to test them out, please follow me.”

“But I already did.” You’re confused again, not understanding what she means.

“For the…other activities. You need to follow me.” Yuna says, walking ahead of you. She checks to make sure you are following her, smirking as she sees you are. Yuna stops at a door at the end of the building, picking up a mounted phone. “Hello? Yes, we’d like to test out the Genie smart bed and the Dura hard mattress. Okay, thank you.” Yuna hangs up and spins around on her heel. It’ll be just a moment; they have to set everything up. You see the hunger in her eyes as she looks you up and down. She licks her lips and smiles at you. “I’m sure you’ll like the Dura brand, but the smart bed is the way to go. I’m sure your girlfriend would love it.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” You respond, fixing Yuna’s error. “Why do you recommend it so much?”

“It has a lot of nice features; I can show you soon,” Yuna says just as the phone on the wall rings. She picks it up, talks to the other person on the line, and grows her smile as she places the phone back on the hook. “Everything is ready; please come in.” Yuna opens the door; the room is decorated like any regular bedroom, with only one thing standing out: both beds you had been thinking about were set up in the middle. Yuna grabs your hands, taking you to the cheaper bed, placing her hands on your chest, and pushing you onto it. She lifts her shirt, her perky breasts bouncing slightly. “First one of the day,” Yuna whispers to herself as she places a hand on your crotch. You’re taken aback at her advances but willing to go along with it. You wouldn't, couldn’t deny her. She feels your bulge grow larger, her eyes widening for a moment as her lustful smile appears.

She unbuttons your jeans, pulling them down. Yuna giggles as she sees your bulge being held back by your underwear. She bends over, planting a kiss on your cock through your underwear, “You’re so big,” She says with a giggle. Yuna pulls at the hem of your underwear, feigning shock as your cock pops out. You see her shining teeth as she smiles and grasps your cock. She strokes it gently, watching it fully harden in her hand. Yuna kisses the tip of your cock before tracing her lips with your cock.

You grunt her name; her warm lips surround the head, wrapping around it as her tongue moves across it at an agonizing pace. You’re squirming, wanting her to do more. “Relax, baby. I’ll give you what you want in a minute.” She says, her hand pumping your cock as she moves closer to your ear. “Once your cock is in my pussy, you’ll see who I really am.” Yuna’s low, sultry voice sends shivers down your spine. She runs a finger down your chest until she returns to your cock, her lips pressing against it before separating and taking you in. Her tongue runs along the underside of your cock, slowly moving from side to side as she strokes the base of your cock. 

“How are you so good?” You moan out, throwing your head back as she takes more of you into her mouth. Yuna ignores your question for the moment, too focused on your cock to answer. Your hips buck, sending your cock into the back of her throat, surprising Yuna. 

She pulls back, her saliva dripping onto your cock. “Ah, if you wanted more, you could have just said so.” She pushes herself back onto your cock, making it disappear. You feel Yuna’s throat tighten around the head. You fall back onto the bed, lying down as you explode in Yuna’s mouth, sending waves of cum down her throat. Yuna’s cheeks fill with your semen, puffing up as she pulls away. You sit up slowly, watching her as she lowers her jaw to reveal a mouthful of cum. Yuna swallows it, moaning slightly as she revels in the salty taste. 

Yuna takes a step back, undoing the button on her shorts and pulling them down, shivering as the cold air hits her cleanly shaven pussy. “Move back a little.” You follow her orders, centering yourself on the bed. Yuna crawls over you, her modest breasts swaying. She reaches down, grabs your cock, and runs it between her wet folds. Yuna’s soft moans arouse you further, making you want her more. She Presses the head against her entrance, slowly dropping on it. She takes a deep breath, groaning as she feels your cock stretching her. Yuna places one hand on her lower abdomen, feeling your cock make its way through her until it knocks against her womb. “You’re tearing me apart,” She whimpers. “I need a moment.” Yuna focuses on the sensation caused by your cock. 

You sit under her, desperate for more, her tight cunt feeling too good to just sit there. You grab her hips and begin thrusting, surprising Yuna. “I’m sorry, but I need you.” You moan, thrusting into her quickly. Yuna places her hands on your chest, trying not to collapse on top of you as you split her apart. You catch her expression, her furrowed brows and shut eyes showing slight discomfort as you knock against her womb. Yuna’s expression soon softens as the pleasure overcomes her. 

Yuna’s moans echo in the room; her head tilts back. She looks to the ceiling as she feels her climax approaching. “I’m gonna cum.” She mumbles. You were still a little ways away from your climax. You speed up your thrusts, trying to cum with her. Yuna felt your cock piston in and out of her; she felt like a toy being used and was loving it. A delighted smile appears on her face as she cums on your cock, her walls tightening around you as you continue to ruin her. The young woman’s strength gives out, sending her onto your chest as you near your climax. She mumbles something; it’s inaudible initially, but Yuna repeats herself. “Cum- cum in me,” she says. You moan Yuna’s name, repeating it as you impale her and shoot your cum into her pussy.

You feel Yuna’s walls milking you for your cum as you both start to relax. She stretches out her hand, pointing to the other bed. She gulps softly, saying, “We have to try out the other one.” You nod your head, already tired. Running your hands along her back, Yuna shudders as she feels your hands come to a stop on her ass. You sit up, struggling slightly as you move over to the other bed with Yuna still having your cock inside her. She grabs a remote and holds down one of the buttons, causing the back to raise and letting you be in more of a seated position. You found it convenient. Yuna gives you a dreamy smile as she tosses the remote and begins moving. 

You’re seated position puts you much closer to Yuna’s breasts. You notice now her small brown nipples; they move softly as Yuna bounces on your cock. You lean in, dragging your tongue over one slowly, flicking it with your tongue at the end. She gasps, and her body shivers at your tongue's warmth. 

“W- What do you think?” Yuna mumbles as she rides you like her life depended on it, her walls squeezing you as you hit her womb. You can tell Yuna is trying to speak more, but the pleasure she’s receiving is making it difficult. Moans flow out from her as her walls tighten around you again. Yuna could give you no warning as she came. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she reached her second orgasm; her voice was becoming hoarse from her moans.

You get Yuna off you, laying her beside you. The moment you do, she turns to you, “You didn’t cum.” She says softly. “I want to feel your cum.” Yuna’s hand slithers down her body, spreading her lips for you. You stare at her glistening pussy, it makes you hard, and you find yourself unable to resist Yuna’s invitation. She grabs the remote, lowering the bed back to its original position. “There, easier for you.” She says, licking her lips as she imagines you inside her again. “Go on, fuck me.”You align yourself with her cunt and push in quickly, feeling like you’re being sucked in.  Yuna’s moans bounce off the walls, fueling you to start thrusting. You lift her hips off the bed, giving yourself a better position and allowing you to go deeper into Yuna’s cunt. Each thrust creates a bulge that Yuna presses down on, making her walls tighten around you. Her moans grew louder; she was getting more pleasure out of it, too. Neither of you last long, your quick thrust making you both cum again.  You collapse on top of Yuna, feeling parts of the soft mattress. 

You watch her grab the remote, feeling the bed become firmer. “So what do you think? How was the smart bed? Better, right?” Yuna mutters, slowly regaining her composure as time goes by.

“I think you’re right. It is better.”

“I told you.” She replies, a smile on her face.

You and Yuna hammer out the details as you lay beside each other, your cum oozing out of her cunt, and you end up buying the smart bed. You don’t know if Yuna being naked at the end helped her convince you, but you were buying the bed. Yuna felt satisfied with herself. After you had left, she went to the staff room, skipping all the way there while still naked, happy to have made a good piece of commission on the sale. She showed off, annoying the others as they stood there watching cum run down her legs. You write a review for the store, writing about the helpful staff much like the others before you.

[euniexenoblade]

Anyways, baeddel is a slur against trans women.

Yes, there once was a weird group of girls who ressurected this long dead word for representing an ideology (I'm not getting into it but it did suck, just not cuz they "hated" men). This group self destructed before ever getting that many people. It was small. A tiny group. Their ideology wasn't popular either.

But, truscum, anti-sjws (conservatives by another name) and hate sites like kf would start to use the term to refer to any trans woman that they decided wasn't "trans enough" or "woman enough" or more importantly, was "too political" (ie talks about transmisogyny, talks about feminism, talks about leftism, etc.). Baeddel became a stand in for "tranny" "faggot," it's the trans woman stand in for the "nasty man hating dyke" sentiment.

Now, a small niche group of trans mascs on Tumblr dot com have created this concept that the baeddels didn't self destruct, apparently they actually are this insanely popular group whose ideology has spread into modern LGBT politics and has "poisoned" everything. This is just a lie. The baeddels group never had enough members to spread that much, the group didn't last long enough, and it was almost entirely located on Tumblr. The people with "baeddel" in their url or bio or whatever these days have no connection to the political group of old, it's a reclaiming of a word used against them, as explained in the third paragraph.

If someone is calling trans women "baeddels" or talking about baeddels in their posts or whatever, they're just calling trans women faggots. It's "gay agenda," but for the transmisogynists. This is a small bit of why I can't take the "transandrophobia is real" crowd seriously. I knew actual baeddels, the ideological ones, they are not the women they're referring to. They are using a slur to refer to trans women they don't like and are trying to hide it behind some dead ideology that most of them don't even know.

Baeddel is meant to be a scary word, it's meant to silence women. Just like, 5 or 6 years ago, claiming a trans woman was a baeddel was enough to effectively get her "canceled," no matter what she said. But, that doesn't work as easily now. And now these trans masc people are getting information from terfs and lesbophobes and violent transmisogynists about how violent trans women are, about how privileged trans women are, about how transmisogyny is actually fake ("we all experience transmisogyny!") and they did this by lacing it with actual trans masc issues. They present an issue trans mascs do actually face, that could use discussion, and then in the very next post talk about the scary baeddels, the mean baeddels, trans women are so terrible. And these people assume this person can't have an ulterior motive, reblog it, file it away in their brain, so when trans women come in and are like "hey no that's bigotry" these trans mascs froth at the mouth to eviscerate her. It's the dreaded baeddel. Here to oppress me.

I'm going off topic but I digress, if you're calling trans women "baeddel," stop it. You don't know what that word means.

[mooooonnnzz]

holy shit world/insure made me sob. would you consider doing a part two ? i’m imagining stan and ford telling dipper and mable childhood stories with the reader. they’re vague about it, saying stuff like “they aren’t here anymore” so the twins just think read died. then reading coming back through the portal and they connect the dots. omfg i’m obsessed with this concept.

Word/Insured Part 2

Stanford Pines x Sibling!Reader/Stanley Pines x Sibling!Reader

☆ GUESS WHO FINISSHHHEDDDD!!!

☆ this'll have 2 parts so it's easier to digest, since it's lawnngg so if it abruptly ends, that's just me splitting it

☆ 4,5k words

☆ gender-neutral reader

☆ possible tw: drinking to cope, mentions of suicide, gagging and descriptive chewing? and just angst

☆ srry this lowk kinda took long to write both keyboard and mouse just died on me when i was writing this so i had to find an old keyboard oops

☆ if this does well, i'm considering on making hcs of reader adjusting back to their home dimensions and diving deep into the twins n their trauma !!

☆ that's all. i hope you all enjoy! :3

✶ Stan and Ford hadn’t talked to each other since your disappearance. The anger and hatred that Stan held onto was enough to deter him from even granting a glance at Ford who tirelessly tried to get Stan to talk to him. He’d begin the conversation with ideas he’s thought through the night prior, ideas that most likely secured a chance on bringing you back. But Stan wanted nothing to do with him. His head was shrouded with your screams, the way you yelled out for Stan instilled such a soul-crushing guilt on Stan; he wasn’t sure he’d properly function as a normal human being after this. Not to mention, you and Stan were two peas in a pod, spending 10 years together after the collapse of their family truly brought the pair together, closer than they’d ever thought they would be. And now Stan is going through the same grief he felt when he was kicked out of the house, Ford doing nothing but sparing a sorrowful glance to him as he shouted for his brother, anticipating Ford to do something; to clean his name and everything would go back to normal. But instead, he turned his back on him. The situations were massively different but the pain was eerily still the same. 

✶ Stan would spend majority of his nights clutching your belongings close to his chest. He didn’t care if it looked weird, those were the only things that he had left of you at the moment. Nights were spent crying himself to sleep, envisioning different scenarios where he had caught onto your wrist and pulled you back to the ground, where it was safe, where he was there to protect you. He couldn’t let his mind linger on the idea of you being stranded in another dimension, helpless and lost, not knowing what to do or where to go. The mere thought of it sends his heart crumbling down to his palms, all shredded and shattered beyond repair. He was your big brother, he was supposed to protect you. To keep you safe from harm's way, he betrayed that very promise by leading you to the place where you were taken away from him too soon. And that alone gutted him. Ford would hear Stan sobbing into the night and all he did was lay there in his bed, submitting himself to the torture to hear his brother’s wretched cries. Because, this was his fault. Stan wasn’t shy to tell him that almost every waking moment of the day when he has the chance. The guilt haunts him.

✶ Verbal arguments were pretty common between the pair. Stan mainly started them when he was pulled out of the haze he was in and roughly back to reality. A reality where you weren’t around anymore and that irked him, because who else was at fault other than his idiotic brother? “Do you ever wonder how more lively this house would have been if ya hadn’t pushed [Name] inside the portal?” His tone was harsh. They carried thick venom to them, his words permanently burning their way into Ford’s brain. “Not this again,” Ford’s heart quivered. He had just recollected himself from yesterday's fight and now Stan wants to barrel through another one? Ford avoided Stan’s glaring eye contact. “Stanley, I told you many times before. I’m sorry! I’m sorry for screwing up, I’m sorry for being the reason why [Name] isn’t here anymore.” Ford’s head tilted back, his eyes staring longingly at the ceiling. “You don’t know how much this eats at me, Stanley.” He blinks away the tears threatening to escape, his head lowering back down to meet Stan’s fiery stare. “But I beg of you, please. Don’t hate me for it. I can’t lose you again, not after losing [Name].” The look in Ford’s eyes was something Stan would never be able to forget, no matter how hard he tried. He looked so broken, so shattered, the shell of someone who once was a prodigy at everything he touched was now crushed to bits; pieces of him scattered, lost to time. Stanley’s anger faded into a mellow irritation. Shifting his hands awkwardly on his chest, his face softened ever so slightly. “Fine,” He grumbled, rushing past Ford, their shoulders roughly rocking against each other. Ford sniffed, wiping the tears off his face. This was a new development. A spark of hope flickered in Ford. 

✶ Alcohol and cigars were Stan’s life vest. He’d rob a few packs of beer and down them within two days. It wasn’t healthy, but at least it distracted him from everything that was happening, right? Stan was pretty much drunk every day, and if he wasn’t, he was out on the porch smoking cigars, hoping that one day Ford would find him dead on the floor with beer cans surrounding him, his last moments spent thinking about how much he missed you. Stan wasn’t an angry drunk much to Ford’s surprise, considering how he spent his times where he was sober yelling at Ford, rather he’d rot away on the couch or floor, silently crying to himself in a puddle of his own tears. Many times Ford would have to pick up Stan, rest him on the couch and try to sober him up. And it wasn’t an easy task to do, picking up Stan with his weak arms was a workout for Ford. “Why couldn’t I save them?” Stank drunkenly babbled out, his head swaying side to side. “Don’t move too much, Stanley. You’ll give yourself a headache.” Ford warned, propping his head up with a pillow. “If I wasn’t so slow, [Name] would still be here.” Stan hiccups, his eyes glistening with tears. No matter how many times Ford hears Stan painfully talking about you, it still hurts the same and even more. “It’s not your fault, Stan.” Ford said, pulling a blanket up to his chest. “It’s not yours either.” Stan’s hand patted Ford on his face, thinking that it was his head. When Stan pulled his hands away, tears were streaking down Ford’s cheek. Hearing Stan tell him that it wasn’t his fault healed a piece of him and that quickly triggered the waterworks. “There, there, brother.” Stan patted Ford’s back as he sobbed into his hands. “It’s not my fault,” He repeated in loud sobs. “It’s not your fault.” Stan echoes. 

✶ Ford handled his grief and stress by huddling himself in the lab, isolating himself from Stan’s drunken state and researching his work. Trying to find loopholes that he can tie them close with a workaround, with a quick fix that would bring you back. Cans of beer were discarded around his lab, just the same as upstairs. But he wasn’t downing beers like Stan, he chugged one or two to dull out the ache in his heart, to keep it from distracting him. He knew when to stop and limit himself. He wasn’t dependent on alcohol. Sleep was something Ford considered useless. That would only distract him from his work, from his progress. Stan walked into the lab, puffing a gray smoke of air out onto the air. Your absence has bestowed so much despair onto the pair and he hadn’t realized until this very moment. Walking over to Ford, he placed a hand on his back. He was messily sleeping on top of his work, glasses hanging off his face, mouth open, drool dribbling down to his arms and paper. His dark circles were so dark and he was unshaven, chin stubbly with hair. Has he been getting any sleep? He wouldn’t know because he’s always drinking the day away. Stan internally groaned at himself. Not only has been neglecting himself, he’s been neglecting his brother. Burning out the cigar, he grabbed a blanket from upstairs and draped it over Ford. “Sleep tight, Stanford.” He said, gingerly squeezing his arm. Stan sat right next to him, wanting to keep him company and dozed off. When morning came, Ford awoke to Stan’s head colliding with his chair. For that one morning, Stan’s snores were music to his ears. 

✶ “S-Stanley!” Ford’s body lunges up from the couch when he sees Stan briskly pass by him and into the kitchen. “I-I’ve done some research and I-I think I found a way to get [Name] back!” He stumbles over his words, the lack of sleep weighing heavily on his foggy brain. The only thing that is keeping him up as of now is coffee he had been taking in shots for the past few days. The way he moves is fidgety and erratically and Stan takes notice of that. Pouring a cup of coffee for himself in a mug, he leans his back against the counter. “You need sleep, Stanford.” He brings the rim of the mug to his lips, his eyes never leaving Ford’s trembling figure as he takes a big gulp from his coffee. Ford couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Stan spoke to him! It was measly four words, but that’s more than he has ever said in the past five months, that wasn’t angry nonsensical words that were being thrown at him or depressing drunken babbling. “No, there’s so much to be done.” Ford runs a hand through his unkempt hair. “You need to hear me out. We need to find the other two–” Stan shushes him. “I won’t talk to you until ya sleep, Stanford. Don’t you bother trying to back out from this.” He looks at Ford with a stern expression, almost the same one Mom wore whenever he warned Ford to not do anything stupid in the backyard with Stan. “B-But!” Stan doesn’t hear his weak objections, he’s already out of the kitchen before Ford can conjure a good enough excuse. With a groan, Ford trips over his own feet while he makes his way back to the couch. Pushing all his research and books off the couch and onto the floor, he topples over the couch. When his head crashes on the soft plush of his sofa, his body automatically shuts off, revealing how dangerously tired he was. His eyes fluttered close and it didn’t take long for him to crash out on the couch. Stan came in to check on Ford and was pleasantly pleased to see his twin at last getting the rest he deserved. 

✶ Clinking his fork idly on the ceramic plate, Stan watched Ford make breakfast. Originally Stan was going to prepare breakfast, but Ford saw he was cooking and pushed him out of the kitchen, telling him that it was “his treat,” Stan couldn’t even utter a single word to him. He just wanted simple scrambled eggs and toast and now he’s left to fear for his life as Ford concocts a science experiment for his breakfast. “And for you breakfast, Stanley.” Ford swoops in, leaning forward as he shuffles the plate of food onto the table. “Scrambled eggs and buttered toast,” Ford smiles knowingly, placing his breakfast down. He had the same breakfast but the crust of his toast was cut off. “I don’t even know why I doubted you.” Stan scoops up the scrambled eggs with his fork and shoves it in his mouth with giddy excitement, a display of emotions Ford hadn’t seen in over 10 years. Who knew a simple breakfast would get him so happy? “Still being a baby about the crust?” He points to Ford’s crustless buttered toast with his fork, mouth muffled with food still being chewed in his mouth. Ford cringes at the sight of mashed up food in Stan’s mouth, suppressing a gag as he nods his head. “Chew your food before talking, Stanley! We’re not kids anymore.” He rasps out, his palm covering his mouth, his body shuddering with full body heaves. “Alright, alright!” With a loud gulp, he swallows his scrambled eggs. “Happy now?” Said Stan with a roll of his eyes. “Maybe not,” Using his other hand, Ford pushes the plate of eggs away. “Don’t want to eat anymore,” Stan shrugs, pouring the scrambled eggs on the plate. “More for me!” As Stan is chowing down on his eggs, Ford regains his composure. Though, he couldn’t watch Stan eat his eggs without the image of the yellow goopy food in his mouth so he averted his gaze to his hands. 

✶ “[Name] sure had grown up the last time I saw them.” This was Ford’s feeble attempt at sprouting a conversation with Stan, but he soon regretted what he said when he realized the fragility of the topic. Stan blinks, stunned. A beat passes and Ford’s ready to divert the conversation to another topic when Stan replies with a weird look on his face Ford can’t quite catch. “Well, yeah,” Stan looks off to the side. Ford lets out a breath of relief, Stan wasn’t upset at the mention of you. “They left with me when you and Dad kicked me out and we haven’t seen each other since then.” There’s a distant look in his eyes when he speaks, his words carrying a light anger to them ever so slightly. “How were th–” Stan shoots up, the chair skidding behind him. “Just because we’re all chummy now doesn’t mean you get to ask all about [Name].” The sudden shift in his emotions slapped Ford right in his face. “I’m sorry.” Ford whispers. Stan clicks his tongue, uttering to himself before shaking his head. “No, I’m sorry.” Stan rubs the sides of his head with his fingers. “Let’s not talk about them right now, okay? I don’t think I’m ready yet.” Stan pulls the chair to him and sits down. He rests his head on his fist, eyebrows pinched together with a long frown on his face. “I didn’t mean to blow up on ya like that.” Stan looks Ford in the eyes, and he could see the sincere sadness swimming in his eyes. “It’s okay, Stanley. Why don’t we talk about what you do for a living?” With that, they eased themselves into a comfortable conversation, with a few hiccups here and there, but in the end, the twins both had a soft smile adoring their faces.

✶ The repairing of the portal was a stepping stone that repaired Ford’s and Stan’s relationship. They weren’t going to lie and say that their relationship now was perfect, they still had their moments of anger and differences, but with a lot and a lot of patience, their bond was soon regaining its spark. “Whaddya think, poindexter?” Stan slapped a sloppily written plan on how to fix the portal in front of Ford. “What is this?” Ford looked at the piece of paper like it was garbage. “A plan to fix the portal, isn’t it obvious?” Stan snatched his paper back up, eyes speedily reading his work, doubting his work. “Stanley, that is unnecessary. I have the blueprints to fix the portal.” Discarding his plan, he slapped his hands enthusiastically, rubbing them together. “Alright! So where are they?” Ford sucks in a breath. “In the other journals.” Stan nodded his head slowly, as if that information was already obvious. “And where are the other journals?” Ford coughs into his fist, speedily saying; “I hid them.” Stan looks at him weirdly. “Can’t we just unhide them?” Ford rubs a hand up against his prickly cheek. “That’s the thing. I may or may not remember where I hid them.” Closing his eyes, he braced for the gust of angry yelling. “you WHAT?!” Stan’s hands flew to the side of his head. “How do you forget where you put them?!” Stan made a mental note to mark down how many times Ford screwed up, so far he has two. He has a long way to go before he could be anywhere near Stan’s record. “I was in a flurry of panic! I wasn’t thinking straight.” Stan groaned, smacking his face with his hand. “Was it at least in Gravity Falls?” Stan had his fingers crossed. “Yes, obviously.” A triumph “Yes!” leaves Stan. “Okay, let’s get digging then!” 

✶ Stan severely underestimated how truly difficult it would be finding one of the books in a forest that seemed like it stretched out for miles. Every turn looks the same and whenever he’d think he’s making progress, he’s right back where he started, at least he thinks he is. Frustrated, he bangs his head on a tree. The sound of metal clanging rang in his ears and shook through the tree. He groaned, holding his head with one hand as he curiously examined the possible metal tree. “Stanley!” Ford came running to Stan’s side, panting heavily. He wasn’t used to running for more than 5 seconds, and that was evidently proven with his flushed face and out of breath wheezes. “This tree is metal,” Stan notes, taking a few steps back, winding his leg back and hammering his shoe into the tree. The tree simply shook, the metal sound nowhere to be heard. “What?” Stan can feel his brain heating up, he couldn’t make any sense of this. The tree he kicked felt like a tree, not some metal contraption. It was only when he knocked his head—An idea springs to mind. Leaning his head back, he slammed his head on the tree. Shocked noises sputter out of Ford as he watches Stan rub the sore spot in his head. “There’s something here,” He gestures to the general area where he smashed his head in. “I can see that!” Ford walks up to the tree, knuckles gently knocking on the metal plate that was disguised as a tree. His hands move around the tree, searching for a way to open the plate. His fingers snag on an elevated piece of tree and with his fingertips, he swings it open, revealing a control panel. The memories of constructing this rush to his mind. “I remember now!” He flips a switch, his head turning over to where the large log rested. In front of it, a patch of grass was pulled back to unravel the hidden place where book three was. Ford eagerly snatched the book in his hands, showcasing it to Stan. “Great job, Stanford!” He claps Ford’s back. “So where’s the other one, you remember?” Unfortunately for the both of them, Ford doesn’t remember. He had seemed to bury most of his memories after meeting Bill Cipher, anything beyond that point was an empty mess for him.

✶ With the two books in hand, they managed to tinker and repair the damage to their best efforts. After each exhausting night in the lab, he’d attempt to pull the lever in hopes that whatever they did that day would work and to their utter disappointment, it never dislodge from its spot. “Man,” Stan wipes his forehead with his forearm, sweat glistening on his arm. “For a brainiac like you, I would’ve never imagined you being terrible at building this!” Stan barked with a laugh. Ford scoffed, his attention laser focused on fixing a part of the machine. “How did you manage to build the portal in the first place?” Stan wondered, the flashlight he was using to help Ford see what he was doing began to steer away. “Stanley,” Ford snapped. “The light!” Stan jolted up in surprise, the light quickly going back to Ford. “Sorry,” He sheepishly said. “But seriously, how did you build this?” He looked at Ford curiously. “I had an assistant.” Ford mumbled, a leak of oil dotting his clothes. He hissed, grabbing a tool off the ground to fix whatever started leaking. “Had? What happened?” Ford hummed happily. He had fixed the leak. Placing the tool back down to the floor, he directed his attention to Stan. “He quit.” Ford scratched his head, unintentionally smearing oil on his cheek with his hand. “Why?” Stan tossed him a piece of clean cloth, silently motioning to his cheek. Ford took it, wiping his cheek with the cloth. “He, uh,” If Ford told Stan that he went inside the portal momentarily and came out completely traumatized, Stan would go berserk on him knowing that you went inside the exact portal that mentally ruined Fiddleford. Ford did not want to go back to the arguing and suffocating silence so he lied. “He just thought what I was doing was unethical.” That wasn’t a complete and total lie, but it was far from the truth. Stan bought the lie fortunately for Ford. “Glad at least someone had the brain to call a quits!” 

✶ Before they knew it, they were tremendously low on money. Stan was the unfortunate one to discover this revelation. On a quick supply run, Stan had gone to the grocery store and stock up on some food. When the cashier rang up him, totaling his price to 30 dollars, Stan had pulled out a penny, paper clip and a wrapper. Mentally cursing Ford for spending all his money on unnecessary science stuff, he weakly smiled at the cashier. “Can you hold onto my groceries for a quick second?” The cashier nodded their, a big bright smile on their face. “Of course, stranger!” And right when Stan was going to snag the groceries bags in his hurried rush, a woman spoke from behind him. “Hey, that’s no stranger! That must be the mysterious science guy in the woods!” She points, gathering a crowd around Stan. “Ah, no. That’s my nerdy twin brother.” Stan says, causing the crowd to coo in interest. “There’s two of them?” Someone in the crowd asked. “He probably cloned himself just so he could do two things at once!” Someone else said. “That’s probably what happened. I’ve heard strange stories about that old shack.” Toby Determined spoke up. “Yeah! Mysterious lights and spooky experiments!” Daryl added. “Gosh, I’d pay anything to see what kind of shenanigans you get up in there!” Pa said. Susan perked up at that. “Oh, me too! Do you ever give tours?” 

✶ A sly smirked pulled to Stan’s face. He had the perfect idea. “Yes, I do give tours! Ten…no-no fifteen bucks a person!” The crowd erupts in cheers, waving their green bills around. “Is it possible we get to see the man of mystery himself?” Susan questions. “Hmm, I’m not sure.” Stan eluded them to think that there was no possible way to get to Ford to gauge their reactions. And what they gave him sent adrenaline rushing through his veins. “You know what?” The crowd lightens up with hope. “Fifty bucks if you all want to see the man of mystery himself!” Another boisterous cheer from the crowd. “And what did you say your name was, twin of mister mystery?” Stan smiled proudly. “Stanley, Stanley Pines.”

✶ The crowd bustles into the shack, ooo’s and aaa’a left their mouths in awe of the place. “Step right up folks to a world of,” he pauses for a moment thinking. “A world of enchantment!” He gestures to all the wild findings. Grabbing a dial box with two antennae, he showcases it to the crowd. “Behold! The um, nerdy science box.” Susan looked at it with interest. The device rumbled to life and zapped her in the eye, rendering it closed. “Ah, my eye!” She covers her closed eye, stumbling back. “Uh, I can assure you, that is no way permanent!” He offers an uneasy smile. “I paid sixty five dollars for this!?” With Susan’s comment, the whole crowd erupted in complaints. Quickly thinking, he grabs a skeleton and makes a half-assed joke where the last customers didn’t make it out alive. The crowd laughs at his horrible joke and Stan smiles. “What is with all this ruckus?” Ford walks in, irritation evident on his face. “Is that him?” Someone excitedly shrieks from the crowd. “Oh my god, it is! Take my money!” Wads of dollar bills get thrown at Stan who was making a great effort to make sure he caught all of them. “Stanley, what did you do!”

✶ After answering a few questions he was coaxed into, (they stroked his ego), he kicked them out, accidentally saying that they could return another time before closing the door, smacking himself in the head. “What was that?” Stan turned over to Ford,  buckets of money shoved inside into his shirt. “I got us money! And look how much we got!” He pulls a ten dollar bill from his stack in his shirt. “Stanford, this the best thing that’s ever happened to us so far.” Ford looks at him, unsure. “I’m not a fan of ripping people off,” Stan’s hands fall to his sides. “It’s their choice to throw money at me like a madman. Listen, if we get more money, we can stock up on good materials to fix the portal, like really good parts and we can finally bring [Name] back.” Ford stewed in his thoughts for a little more. He hated to admit, but Stan was right. With a little more money, they could be sailing straight to victory with a higher chance of your return. Ford let out a defeated sigh. “Fine, but I don’t want you to mess with my stuff, got it?” Stan beamed brightly. “I promise!” He broke that later on. 

✶ Gradually, the scary shed in the woods turned into a tourist spot people would frequent. Together, they advertised the shack by plastering various signs and posters all over the woods. They even went as far to tape advertisements onto people’s windows. Ford wanted to use actual beasts he had found in the woods to show to people, but in the end they all ran away, horrified for their lives. Ford was respectfully peeved because when he’d glance over to Stan, he had somehow had the crowd hanging on to every word that spilled out of his mouth. And when he’d show the crudely sewed animal he had made within five minutes before the tour started, they all gasped in delight, their money flying to him. “How do you do it?” Ford asks as Stan closes the door, reveling in the pool of money he had made. “I just say whatever comes to mind.” Stan shrugs. “But none of your stories make any sense logically! How did they believe in a half beaver half bat?” He gestures to the taxidermy animal. The beady eyes were slowly sliding off its face, leaving a trail of glue. “Hey, the people love to spend their money on things that are obviously fake, weirdly enough.” The door rattles with a knock. “Wanna take this next crowd? I gotta sort this money.” Against his will, not really, Ford opens the door and flashes an award winning smile he had learned from Stan. Cash was already being shoved in his face. At least he earns money for looking good. Ford attempted Stan’s whole shtick and to his very surprise it worked! It wasn’t as good as Stan’s performance, but it worked well enough that people were swarming him with cash. His bitterness from before was quickly washed over and he continued on his act. When the crowd dispersed, satisfied with their tour. Stan was there in the middle, clapping widely. “That was some good acting there, Ford!” Ford smiled, waving him off. “Yeah, yeah. I’m only doing this cause we need the money.” 

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