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lustspren · 1 month

Text

Royal ft Miyeon, Soyeon.

length: 14.6k words ✦

Miyeon, Soyeon & Male Reader.

O Sole Mio Sequel.

genres: threesome, breeding, overstimulation, blowjob, squirt, facefuck, voyeur, hard sex, bi, creampie, pussy eating, party sex, public sex ✧

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Month and a half since you were in Los Angeles. Month and a half since Miyeon saw you, Soyeon and Yuqi naked in her own room.

You thought about it often; her reaction had been hilarious to say the least, but you were afraid that it would change your relationship with her in some way. Luckily that didn't happen. However, every time you saw her you couldn't help but remember that day. You were sure the same thing happened to her.

When the recordings of the Queencard and Allergy music videos were finished, you returned with the girls back to Korea and everything continued as usual. To no one's surprise, Queencard became such a hit that it gave the girls a PAK. An achievement like this, desired by so many groups and artists within the country, was not something that was achieved every day. It deserved celebration.

You had already had a small meeting at Soyeon's apartment to drink and do karaoke, but the idea for something bigger came from Minnie: the only person among them capable of spending absurd amounts of money without the slightest remorse. Her idea was to organize a big party, with a multitude of idols and their respective companions—if they had them—as main guests. It seemed crazy to you, but neither Soyeon nor the rest of the girls thought it was a bad idea.

Although Minnie was the leader of that initiative, the rest of the girls, in her eagerness to participate, convinced her to also help with the expenses. This is how they inaugurated the fund from which all the money destined solely and exclusively for the party would come. You, of course, couldn't contribute anything even though Soyeon was always in charge of giving you everything you needed; the amount of money you earned was tiny compared to the current most famous group in Korea. You had no choice but to help with all the logistics, at least.

No expenses of any kind were spared: they hired private security personnel, apparently among the best. They also bought alcoholic beverages of all kinds, snacks and sweets to fill the cupboards, and a sophisticated sound system. The jewel in the crown was the place that was rented for the event: a big house located in an exclusive neighborhood under construction in Yongin-si, a city located 40 kilometers south of Seoul.

The fund was made up of all the girls, but Minnie was responsible for all that uncontrollable spending. The speech she used as an excuse was that 'the fund would never fall short as long as she was the main investor.' You couldn't argue against that, besides, it was her problem.

You were with Soyeon like a limpet, glued to her at all times, doing preparations and errands everywhere. Aside from this, a big part of your job—or rather your girlfriend's—was making calls to every entertainment company you could think of to fill them in on the details. The big hook that Soyeon had going for her was that they wouldn't have to worry about security and privacy issues. Some bigwigs objected and dismissed the idea as crazy almost immediately, but in these cases Soyeon used her influence to get CUBE's own staff—who had no choice but to obey the person who fed them—to convince them in person.

So, with a bit of tug-of-war all the corresponding permissions were obtained, and invitations began to be sent to every possible idol in the girls' contact book. If your calculations were correct, by the end of that day around 60 people had been invited. That's not counting the possible companies that each one will bring.

What a mess.

"Hey, remember what I told you that night with Minnie?" Soyeon asked you.

You were in her apartment, sitting on the couch with the table in front of you full of papers and folders. You had been making expense calculations and adjusting budgets, and then sending the documents to Minnie. After a couple of hours Soyeon had gotten up to get cups of coffee and take a break.

You sipped the steaming energizing nectar, a pen held to your ear.

“Huh…” you thought about it for a moment. "The thing about...?"

"Aha." she nodded, crossing her legs, the coffee cup in her hand.

"Yeah, I remember. Why?"

Soyeon leaned forward, arms crossed over her knee.

"Because this will be the perfect opportunity to make Miyeonie take the bait." she said, lowering her voice, as if someone else, in the apartment where it was just the two of you, was going to listen.

You had had few interactions with Miyeon since that day, but all of them were normal, pleasant. Of course you acted like she hadn't seen your dick a month and a half ago, but you were sure she thought about it every time you talked, because every time she zoomed out looking down. You didn't know if she was looking where you thought she was looking, but she was, which was suspicious enough.

"And how do we plan to do that?" you said.

"Bringing her to a point where she can't resist. Cook her over low heat." She took a sip of her coffee.

You hesitated.

"She's not like Minnie or Yuqi. She's not easy to corrupt."

"And you're right, but," she held up a finger and set the coffee cup down next to a folder. "It's easier to make her give in on her own."

You wrinkled your forehead.

"What are you supposed to mean by that?"

"You'll see, darling," she patted your knee. "you will see."

—A week later—

Getting ready for an event where everyone was more attractive than you was a pain in the ass.

The day finally arrived. A Saturday night. You and Soyeon got ready at her apartment; three long hours that seemed eternal while Soyeon took even more time than you to choose what to wear. More than once you were honest with her and gave her the go-ahead for many outfits, but she just kept dismissing them. In the end she opted for a short black dress with long sleeves, wide wrists and pointed shoulder pads. She adorned her neck with a necklace of black pearls, and on her feet she wore wide, high platform heels.

The dress code was elegant, and the color was black. That was supposed to make things easier, but it didn't. You were Jeon Soyeon's partner, you just couldn't look dull.

You already had the complete outfit: black cotton sweater, high-waisted dress pants, and wide-soled formal shoes; but you were missing something, you could tell at a glance what it was, so Soyeon took you out of the house and bought you a nice leather blazer to wear over it. Now you were perfect for the occasion.

After an hour and a half by car you arrived at the neighborhood in question.

There were rather very few inhabited houses around; everything was in the process of being remodeled, and all the residences that had already been put up for sale were at least three blocks away in the case of the closest one. One of these houses was the one that stood in front of you, but the girls had only rented it for two nights. It was a masterstroke, not only were you out of the eye of the hurricane, but within that same block no one was going to be able to bother you.

As soon as you got out of the car you saw Minnie in the doorway, talking to two tall, robust men dressed in suits. You moved to the lower sidewalk and walked past the garage door until you stood behind the men. Soyeon cleared her throat, and they immediately moved aside to make way for you.

You and Soyeon greeted Minnie—who also looked spectacularly luxurious, in a black top and skirt and a black feather coat—and walked through the gate to stand behind her.

The men were the heads of security, who repeated the information they had given to Minnie so that she would be aware as well. Basically, a surveillance perimeter had been set up around the house to monitor any suspicious movement and act immediately against a potential photographer. You doubted how legal that last one thing was, but they seemed like completely professional people. Besides, you trusted Soyeon and Minnie's judgment.

After the explanation, one of the men left and the other stayed as a doorman, with an iPad with the guest list in his hand. You three went inside.

"Damn, you've worked on it, haven't you?" you asked Minnie, as you walked through the front entrance and into the living room.

She turned to look at you with a sneaky, almost arrogant smile.

"What did you think, that we were going to invite half of the industry here and not have security well covered?" she raised an eyebrow.

The living room space was divided into two zones: the left side, with doors leading to a small private dining room and a small space that led to a bathroom and a guest bedroom; and the central part, where you were standing, with an opening that offered a view of the second floor ceiling, from which hung a set of circular lamps that floated at least two meters above your heads.

The entire front part of the living room was glass panels facing the yard, where Yeh Shuhua was taking selfies and taking photos of the mountain scenery. Minnie went to sit on the large sofa installed behind one of the wooden beams, but you went through the door on the right to get to the kitchen. There you met Yuqi, with whom you exchanged a few words while you drank more than necessary glasses of cold water.

There were no traces of the leading star down there, so you went up to the second floor. The master bedroom was just up the stairs, behind a door on the right. There you found her, standing in front of a tall floor mirror; she fixed the short dress she was wearing, adjusting the thin straps with which it was held around her neck.

The aura of confidence that she emanated was one of the most attractive things she had in her arsenal. That, of course, is not counting a beautiful pair of legs and killer shoulders. One side of her shiny black hair fell in front of her left shoulder, and the other fell behind her right. Half of her back was exposed, a sight for which you had to thank the almighty himself.

She looked at you sideways and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. She then took out a lipstick from a small bag.

"You could at least knock on the door," she said, putting on lipstick. "I could have been in my panties."

"And what would have been wrong with that?" Soyeon replied, walking behind her to sit in the corner of the gigantic bed.

You put your hands in your pants pockets and stood five feet behind Miyeon, looking her up and down. She glanced at you through her reflection, and to your surprise she winked at you.

"Well, that would have been a pretty unfair way to get revenge for what happened in L.A."

Your gaze was lost and your thoughts went blank, not expecting her to take out that dirty cloth so soon. You stayed quiet for a second until Soyeon evaded the topic.

"My goodness, woman," she said, looking her up and down. "You look fucking beautiful."

"Yeah." You nodded. "Nothing new about you tho, but something tells me you know you'll have competition today huh?"

Miyeon adjusted her earrings and turned to look at you. She raised both eyebrows as if you had said the most absurd thing in the world.

"Competition?" she asked, amused. "Ha! Who's going to compete with me? That's ridiculous."

Soyeon laughed.

"At levels of egocentrism, well, quite a few people, you're right about that." she said before standing up.

"Your boyfriend's eyes don't say the same," Miyeon gave you a look and turned towards the door with a mischievous smile. "I'll wait for you downstairs."

Soyeon waited for Miyeon to come out of the bedroom before standing in front of you and look at you with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" you asked.

"Couldn't you be a little more sneaky?"

"But what did I do!" you protested.

"Yeah yeah, forget it," she said with a swing of her hands. "Listen to me carefully," she grabbed your face. "I won't be able to be with you for the entire party, unfortunately I have to play my role as hostess and I can't leave the guests unattended. Anyway, I'll be going with you frequently, so don't worry."

You nodded throughout her explanation, and did so again as you grabbed her waist.

"Yeah, don't worry about me, I think I can acclimatize well." You leaned down to peck her lips. She gave you another one immediately and looked into your eyes.

"Hey, don't forget," she lowered her voice. "This is your perfect opportunity to spend time with Miyeonie. Golden opportunity, actually."

The music began to boom from downstairs, getting louder with each passing second. It seemed like they were testing how high they could go without making it unbearable.

"I don't promise anything. That woman looks innocent but she's… scary."

"I was too when you met me," she objected. "And now I'm taking you late at night to the mall to buy you a jacket."

You and her shared a laugh, gave each other one last kiss before leaving the bedroom and headed downstairs.

The music resonated throughout the house through an interconnected series of powerful speakers installed at different points on the ground floor, connected to a main sound system located on the yard porch. Yuqi and Shuhua were in front of it fiddling with things on the console, since they were in charge of the playlist. The two of them had a pretty solid taste in music, so you were calm about that.

Soyeon left you to go talk to Minnie, leaving you alone with Miyeon at the bottom of the stairs. Kanye West's Gold Digger started playing.

She turned to look at you.

"I'm going to go take some photos, are you coming with me?" she asked.

"I mean I don't have much to do in here, come on," you gestured with your chin towards the yard.

Miyeon walked ahead of you, you followed her from behind. Soyeon's gaze was fixed on the two of you for a few seconds, but she didn't take long to hide it.

As you walked out onto the porch you gave Shuhua a friendly tap on the back of the head in greeting. You had to run away so she wouldn't kick your ass in response.

Miyeon took you to the side of the house, where there was a dining area covered by a large patio umbrella. You walked ahead and pulled out one of the black chairs for her. She giggled.

"Woah, what a gentleman," she said, taking a seat.

"I know right?" You sat next to her and left your phone on the table. "I'm clearly a different breed."

"Oh yeah?" She raised both eyebrows and laughed again.

You nodded your head slowly, sinking into the seat.

"Yeah, there are few like me left in the world you know?"

"Right," she nodded as well, pulling her phone out of her clutch. "That's appropriate then, if you're going to be my company for the night you must be one of those."

She entered the camera on her phone and started taking selfies. You stared at her, your hands inside your jacket pockets.

"As long as you let me be, I'll be delighted."

"It's not like I have a choice," she said without looking at you, doing different poses and angles. "Sana is on tour and Jiwoo has a busy schedule."

"Ouch, that means I'm the last option."

She turned to look at you with a confused expression.

"Don't talk nonsense, silly." She looked back at the screen. "You're far from being a last option. Besides, I need few things on a night like this, and you can fulfill all of them more than well."

You raised your eyebrows and tilted your head, nodding.

"May I know what those things you are talking about are?"

Miyeon put the phone down and looked you up and down. Again, she stayed looking down for too long, but when you tried to follow her gaze she quickly raised it.

When she was about to answer you, you realized that there was beginning to be movement inside the house. The guests had begun to arrive.

From your seats you saw how the yard began to fill with people that you had only seen through a screen or from far away during your work. Miyeon didn't look fazed about it, but it was overwhelming for you. On top of that, it got worse when some idols came up to greet Miyeon: Wendy from Red Velvet, Jiwon and Seoyeon from Fromis, Mingyu and DK from Seventeen, Sehun from EXO, Eunwoo from Astro and even Somi herself, to name a few.

At one point you realized how truly gigantic the industry really was, as the place was packed with people. And that didn't even represent 20% of all of them. But you were sure that every big shot that could be there, was.

There were few who went with a non-famous person, you could count them on the fingers of both hands. One of them was Isa from STAYC, who was arm in arm with a foreign guy who seemed very familiar to you, but you didn't know where from. They were talking to Minnie and Ryujin, with whom you knew Isa was friends.

While you looked in that direction your vision was obstructed by Soyeon, who was accompanied by some of her close friends that you didn't know until now. Somi was behind her, as were Elkie, Sorn, and Yeeun, the three former CLC members. She formally introduced you to everyone. They were kind enough to you, but that didn't make you feel any less like a little ant in the middle of a metropolis. You still seemed confident and fun on the outside, or at least you tried to.

She left with them, and she left you and Miyeon alone again.

You stood up and wandered around the house, striking up short conversations—or rather Miyeon—with several of her friends, many of whom had already gone to say hello previously. By then you had already started drinking. You two drank from thermal mugs to make it more comfortable while you went from here to there. Yours had vodka and lemon soda, and Miyeon's had white rum and watermelon juice.

You hadn't been drinking for long, you had barely finished a drink and you had just finished refilling your mugs. But you already noticed that Miyeon was behaving slightly differently, she seemed eager to move her body, you noticed it while you were starting a small conversation about your favorite vocalists.

"Wait a minute," you interrupted her, while she was talking about Christina Aguilera. "Wanna dance?"

Miyeon tilted her head and looked at you as if you had guessed the lottery number. You decided not to point out how much it showed on her.

"Oh, actually… yeah,” she nodded. “Come on," she smiled, and she took your hand to lead you inside the house.

The heart of the party was there. If outside it seemed like the place was at maximum capacity, inside you felt like you were in rush hour in Seoul.

You made your way through the crowd, Miyeon leading the way as she held your hand. Having that point of view was kind of comforting: all those people you saw on screens, shiny and seemingly perfect, being ordinary people. There was nothing new under the sun, it was evident that these young people enjoyed their private lives as much as anyone else. But being there, meters—even less—from them, made you forget that they were famous people. That made you feel more comfortable.

Miyeon led you to a corner of the living room, near the stairs leading to the second floor. You stood with your back against the wall, and Miyeon turned her back to you to corner you against it.

You had four guys from NCT Dream nearby, but you only recognized two: Mark and Jisung; you knew the other two, but you couldn't remember their names. They were talking to two girls you didn't know even by face and to Sehun from EXO. They all gave small polite bows to Miyeon and went about their business.

You weren't dancing as such at first, you were just moving subtly to the rhythm of the music while you drank and enjoyed the atmosphere. She just made sure that you were pressed against the wall at all times, so that you could soak in the scent of her hair and the warmth of her body as much as possible.

She turned her head and leaned closer to your ear.

"Won't Soyeonie be upset if she finds us like this?" she asked.

You thought about it for a moment and let out a chuckle.

"No, I don't think so," you shook your head.

"Great, then it's my time to check something."

Miyeon pressed her body against yours, her ass, firm under her short dress, rubbing against your bulge. You let out a sly smile, realizing that your mission was not going to be as difficult as you expected.

"Hmm… even this way it feels really good against my ass," she continued, then took a sip of her drink. "Come on, let's dance."

She had dared, now you had to dare too.

You wrapped your hand around her waist, placing it right in the center of her abdomen, which she didn't seem to mind. You didn't want to get hard, but despite your efforts you were sure she ended up feeling the firm bulge press against her.

You danced for a couple of songs. Nothing too flashy or risqué, but you remained close during every second. You were lying if you didn't say that you wanted to bury your face in that long, slightly sweaty neck, or kiss those pretty lips with the aftertaste of liquor on them, but you couldn’t rush.

You were forced to stop when Yuqi appeared in the crowd. Her gaze dropped to your hand on Miyeon's abdomen. She raised her eyebrows in surprise, but she didn't say anything about it.

"Hey, Soyeon sent me to find you!" she said. "We will hold a hate convention towards CUBE."

Miyeon jumped away from you and smiled broadly at Yuqi.

"I'm in!" She looked at you and offered you her hand. "Come on!"

She was the happiest you had seen her all night. That said a lot about the experience of those girls under the yoke of a disgusting company. Of course you took her hand and followed Yuqi.

Yuqi led you back to the side alley of the house. In the dining area, where you and Miyeon were before, Soyeon and Minnie were sitting along with a good number of people you already knew beforehand: Elkie, Eunbin, Yeeun, Sorn, Dawn, Wooseok, Kino, Sanghah, Juhyeon and Hina. All former, or idols under CUBE Entertainment. It was going to be a more than entertaining talk.

"Hello everyoneee!" Miyeon greeted, taking a seat in a free chair. You sat on the side. "Where is Shuhua?"

"We have no idea," Soyeon responded from across the table.

"The last time we saw her she was with a guy I don't know, two girls from STAYC, Hanni from New Jeans and... her name is Rei, right?" Yeeun said next to Soyeon, looking at Lightsum's Hina, who was also Japanese.

"Aha," Hina nodded.

"Oh, I just saw her with Hanni and Isa in the dining room," said Yuqi sitting on your left. "I didn't see the other guy or the other two."

"And why didn't you tell her to come with us?" Elkie asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course I did!" Yuqi protested. "But you know how that girl is, she didn't listen to me."

"It doesn't matter girls," Soyeon said. "That shouldn't be an impediment for us."

Of course, the main subject of the conversation was CUBE and why they were a huge garbage company.

You didn't have much or practically anything to contribute to the conversation, since you weren't even an employee within that company or had any connections of any kind beyond the girls. Even so, they came to you from time to time to find out what someone's point of view was like from the outside, so you enriched the conversation anyway.

Listening to their experiences was heartbreaking for you. They had all been through horrible, unfair treatment, but you were surprised by how lightly everyone talked about it. You even noticed that they took it with a certain amount of humor. You couldn't blame them, after all it was a very natural defense mechanism in everyone, but you knew how they felt. In the end you all agreed on the same thing: CUBE deserved the worst.

Over time—about an hour or an hour and a half—the group began to dissolve piece by piece, either because they were going to dance, because they were going to refill their drinks, or because they were going to talk to other people at the party.

Soyeon also left, telling you that she also wanted to spend some time with her Lightsum hoobaes. She gave you a kiss and winked before leaving with Sanghah, Juhyeon and Hina.

In the end, only you, Miyeon, Yuqi and Minnie were left at the table.

"Now why are you two so close together all of a sudden?" Minnie asked cross-legged.

"Yeah," Yuqi nodded. "I can count the times I saw you together during these months."

You were about to jump to your defense, but Miyeon beat you to it, placing her hand on your right thigh.

"He's just looking out for me," she said. "You know, neither Sana nor Jiwoo can be with me today," she pouted and looked at Yuqi. "I thought you would know what a good company he is."

As she said that last sentence she slowly moved her hand up your thigh and squeezed it very close to your crotch, even touching your bulge with the side of her hand. You couldn't say a single word, you were frozen.

Yuqi opened her eyes wide. You noticed that her cheeks turned into an intense blush and that she shifted nervously in the seat.

Minnie wrinkled her brow and looked at Yuqi with a raised eyebrow.

"What is she talking about?" she asked.

Yuqi looked at you, looking for help. You just shook your head. She then looked at Minnie.

"Uh… oh!" She pretended someone was calling her from behind you. "Chenle is calling me!"

She stood up and ran with small jumps around the table, grabbing the skirt of her dress so as not to trip.

"Wah! And Xiaoting unnie too?" she said again, as if her flight had not been false enough already.

The three of you looked at her as she left, in disbelief. She didn't end up going anywhere. She stood in the middle of the yard looking for one of the people she had just named, but when she didn't see anyone she quickly went into the house.

"Very well, I won't be anyone's third wheel," Minnie said as soon as she locked eyes with you. "Have a good time, cuties."

Minnie stood up and blew you both a kiss before leaving as well. Only then did Miyeon remove her hand from your thigh. You looked at her, narrowing your eyes.

"What are you playing, Cho Miyeon?" you asked.

She turned to look at you with an innocent expression.

"Huh?" She was playing dumb. "I only said that because I know how much fun you guys had in L.A."

"A certain part of me caused so much fun, can you imagine what I'm talking about?"

Miyeon put a finger to her lips and wrinkled her forehead, pretending to think. In the end she shook her head.

"The truth is that I have no idea, I'll try to search my memory to see if I remember anything."

"I could help you with that, don't you think?"

"Yeah," she nodded, looking into your eyes. "I'm sure you could."

"Do you want to go inside?" You gestured towards the house.

"Yeah!"

She pushed the chair back and stood up, but when she put one foot away from it she 'tripped' and fell sitting on her side right on top of your bulge. You instinctively held her waist. Her sexy little waist.

"Oops," she said, her face inches from yours. "The heels played dirty on me."

"Thank god you landed in a safe place, then," you said, looking at her lips and then at her sideboob inside her dress.

Miyeon nodded slowly, holding onto your shoulders.

"Very comfortable, too," she added, looking at your lips. "I wouldn't mind falling here more times."

Your lips were very close to each other. You thought it was time. You could smell her breath, hot and tempting. She approached you, squeezing your shoulders with her fingers. But just as your lips touched, a commotion meters behind you interrupted you. You turned to look.

It turned out that some guys, among whom you recognized three from The Boyz and a couple from Enhypen, had brought out a ping pong table—god knows where from—and were installing it there, along with a bunch of party glasses and a ping pong ball. One of them had a bottle of vodka in his hand, which he placed in the center of the table before starting to play.

Miyeon turned her gaze to you.

"Do you want to go play?" she asked.

"I would like to play with you, not gonna lie."

She raised an eyebrow and grabbed your face, her lips pressed into a mischievous smile. She scrutinized your face and ran her thumb over your bottom lip.

"Later..." she said. "I don't feel horny enough yet."

"No rush, then," you smiled.

You made an attempt to kiss her, but she pressed her index finger against your lips and slowly shook her head before standing up. The damn proud smile she wore on her face only made you want her more.

Reluctantly you stood up and walked with her to where the crowd was gathering around the game. There you met Shuhua, accompanied by Isa and Hanni. Soon they were joined by who you assumed was the guy Yeeun told you about; with him came Yoon and Rei. You spent another little effort trying to figure out where you knew him from, and finally your mind clicked: you knew him from a viral clip of him playing Fortnite, he was a famous English-speaking streamer.

Once you took off the weight of knowing who he was, you didn't pay him any more attention. You focused on beating Cho Miyeon at beer pong.

She was kicking your ass in a somewhat humiliating way. You didn't know whether to associate it with beginner's luck or the discouraging fact that, at that moment, the universe was against you. Out of 10 balls you could score, maybe you got 3 or 4. Miyeon scored 8 of those 10.

Every gulp of vodka burned your throat and made you wrinkle your nose. It went down your entire body too quickly, as it didn't take long for you to feel dizzy. You needed a break, so you motioned for Miyeon to stop and move aside. This was a roundabout way of accepting defeat, and she didn't hesitate to tease you for it.

"Are you ok?" she asked between silly laughs, her hand on your shoulder.

You looked at her with a frown. You noticed her flushed cheeks, a sign that the alcohol was also affecting her.

"Fuck yes, perfectly," you replied, concentrating on not losing your center of gravity. "Since when the hell are you the Stephen Curry of beer pong?"

Miyeon laughed harder and hugged your neck, almost making you fall backwards with her. You wrapped your right arm around her waist and anchored your right foot behind you.

"Beginner's luck, I guess?" she said in your ear.

Yeah, that was the answer.

"Your beginner's luck just destroyed me," you grabbed her waist and subtly pushed her away because you really felt like you were going to fall.

"Let's eat something in the kitchen, that will help," she said with her hands on your chest.

"I hope you're right, come on."

You let Miyeon pull you with her. You had no choice but to trust her and let her guide you, since your body couldn't coordinate movements with your brain very well at all.

When you got to the kitchen you found at least a dozen people pouring drinks or mixing them as if they were in some kind of bizarre laboratory. Miyeon pushed everyone out of your way just with her presence, and the first thing she did when you arrived in front of the refrigerator was push you back against it.

"Wait a minute, you're in all your senses right?" she asked, both of her hands on the refrigerator on either side of your head.

You frowned. What a random question.

"Uh… yeah?" you said. "I mean, my motor sk…."

Before you could continue speaking Miyeon grabbed you by the neck and crashed her lips against yours.

Surprised and still confused, you wrapped both arms around Miyeon's waist and reciprocated her kiss. You felt that all that preparation had been worth it; her lips felt delicious, with an addictive aftertaste that made you want to go deeper and deeper. She granted you that pleasure, adding her tongue to make clear what an excellent kisser she was.

While you pressed her body against yours and made the gesture of lowering one of your hands to her ass, something happened that completely took you out of your bubble: Miyeon pushed you to the side, opened the refrigerator and took out a box of Choco Pies .

She pulled away from your lips and looked into your eyes, showing you the box with a little smile, as if nothing had happened.

"Do you want a Choco Pie?" she asked innocently.

You stayed silent for a few seconds, trying to solve the indecipherable enigma that Cho Miyeon was.

"Yeah..." you nodded, looking at the box. "Sure."

Miyeon took your hand, closed the refrigerator and led you to the area on your left: an extension of the kitchen that housed the dining room and some appliances and also led to the yard.

You sat on two empty chairs and began to eat the Choco Pies while you saw many of those present making fools of themselves. Among them was Yuqi, dancing with Elkie, Chenle, and Yiren. You put your hands to your foreheads when she tripped over her own dress and fell on her butt against the grass.

About twenty minutes and several Choco Pies later you already felt composed and ready to continue, so you went with Miyeon to the kitchen and refilled your mugs with more drink. This time you put less alcohol in yours, not wanting to push your limits further.

"Let's dance again, handsome?" Miyeon asked, looking at you with mesmerizing eyes.

You grabbed her waist, pressed the side of her body against yours and gave her a small kiss that she gladly accepted.

"Only if you promise not to hold back this time," you said against her lips.

"Oh don't worry, I won't," she assured, with a smile that should have terrified you, but instead turned you on.

This time it was you who led the way to the living room. The corner where you had previously danced was occupied by a couple who were kissing. You noticed that they were Chaeyoung from Fromis and Soobin from TXT. Who was going to say it.

You went to the opposite side of the room, just below the threshold of the passage that led to the bedroom and bathroom doors. There you were clearly blocking the way for anyone who wanted to enter, but you didn't think about it—or rather, you did but you didn't care.

Now you and her reversed her roles: her back against the wall and you cornering her against it. She wrapped her arms around your neck and you grabbed her waist. You began to dance face to face, with your lips inches from each other at all times.

Every few seconds you let your lips touch in a fleeting kiss. Your hands began to run up and down Miyeon's waist, who gently stroked the hair at the nape of your neck. You discreetly placed one of your hands behind her, on her lower back, and then lowered it to grab her buttock. It felt too good not to do it again with the other one.

The song changed to A Milli by Lil Wayne, a moment that Miyeon took advantage of to turn around and press her ass against your cock. She began to move it like you knew she knew how, making wonderful use of her hips to rub against you to the rhythm of the music.

You buried your face in her neck and breathed against it, clinging firmly to her waist as she moved her ass against you. You heard a gasp from her, and then she went against all your expectations: she reached between your bodies and reached down to grab the now hardened bulge in your pants.

You hid the surprise as best you could, in order not to draw too much attention from the people around you (they didn't give a damn anyway). You put your free hand on Miyeon's abdomen, while she squeezed your cock and massaged it through your pants. You lowered your hand to try to reach her crotch, but she gave you a pat to stop you in your tracks.

“Hold it there, cowboy,” she said in your ear. "If you want dinner, let's go upstairs."

You smiled from ear to ear and licked your lips.

"Are you horny enough yet?" you murmured, peppering the side of her face with kisses.

She gave your cock another firm squeeze.

"Pretty much," she simply replied, then bit your bottom lip.

You took a step back and grabbed her by the forearm to separate her from the wall. Then you took her hand and went to the other side of the room, towards the stairs. You went up and tried to quickly go to the master bedroom, however, you ran into an unexpected problem.

It was locked from the inside.

"Huh?" Miyeon said, frowning. "Did you close it when you came down?"

“Nope,” you shook your head. "In fact I'm pretty sure I left it open."

You tried opening it once more and then pressed your ear against the cold wood. You couldn't hear anything inside. It was to be expected: whoever was inside must have had a good scare when they saw the knob turning unsuccessfully. They were trying not to get caught.

"It doesn't matter," you said, renouncing. "Let's go to the other one."

As you walked through the short hallway that led to the other side of the second floor, you couldn't help but think about Soyeon. You were making a move without her, a giant one, how was she going to react if she found out about it? You didn't think about the consequences at the time: you were so clouded in your desire for Miyeon that you took it as a secondary problem, something you would deal with later.

You reached the end of the corridor to enter the bedroom, which luckily was open and empty.

That bedroom wasn't much smaller than the main one, in fact, they were practically the same: both with dressers and beds of the same size. The only differences at first glance were that the master bedroom had a small library room and was better furnished.

It wasn't even important. The last thing you and Miyeon paid attention to was the quality of the bedroom. You only needed a bed, and even that was optional.

As soon as you locked the door behind you, you left the mugs on a dresser, and Miyeon lunged at you with her arms around your neck to kiss you.

Without the annoying restriction of being surrounded by people you now let yourself go, wrapping your arms around Miyeon's waist and pressing her against your body in the middle of a kiss that lacked tenderness.

Miyeon clung to your neck with both hands, breathing heavily as a result of the intense exchange of saliva. You were moving stumbling to the right, towards one of the side edges of the bed, which Miyeon collided with and fell back onto the mattress. You fell on top of her.

"Would you let me eat your pussy, Miss Cho?" you asked, biting her bottom lip and pulling on it.

Miyeon let out a tiny moan and pulled the jacket off your shoulders. Her eyes burning with desire fixed on yours.

"Eat whatever you want from me," she replied with a gasp, bringing one knee up to rub against your crotch.

You dove into her pretty, soft neck, showering it with kisses as much as possible.

"Fuck… watch your words, I can use them against you," you muttered against the end of her neck, almost touching her collarbone.

That had been an invitation that you did not hesitate to reject.

Not wanting to leave her neck too quickly, you stayed there for a few more long seconds, just kissing it and filling it with eager hickeys that were soon reflected in light dark marks. Miyeon just let you work, rubbing her thigh against your cock.

You put your hands under her and reached behind her back, to untie the small knots that held the straps of her dress to her neck. With her dress already loose at the top you were able to slowly lower it, covering each new area of bare skin with deep, wet kisses. Before releasing her tits you went up again to her marked collarbone, and one last time to her neck. You went back down, and with a single pull you revealed a pair of perfect perky breasts.

You didn't hesitate for a second to put one of them in your mouth.

"Hfmmm..." Miyeon moaned, bringing her hands to your hair to tangle her fingers there.

You grabbed your right arm behind her waist and lifted her forward to bring her further into the center of the bed, sucking on her nipple and licking it up and down. She kicked off her heels and hugged her legs to your waist, as she let out small moans.

Because of this, her dress went up to the elastic area that kept it attached to her abdomen. Her beautiful pair of legs were now fully exposed to you. You placed a hand on each of her thighs, squeezing them on the underside with your fingers and then rubbing them up and down.

After leaving one nipple covered in saliva, you moved to the next. Miyeon's moans, although still small, became more desperate with every second that you didn't touch her. You brought your right hand to her crotch, rubbing her slit with your thumb over her soaked lace panties.

"Fuck, are you going to eat me or not?" she asked between gasps.

You lifted your mouth from her nipple and smiled to look at her. Her cheeks were burning with blush.

"Are we needy, Princess Cho?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah..." she nodded slowly, looking at you. "Too much, so please give me what I want."

"What you want? How do you know it's not what I want too?" you said, giving kisses to the outline of her tits.

"Because it's obvious," she replied. "How can you not want to eat a princess's pussy?"

You should have seen that response coming. You laughed, and lowered the top of her dress even further, until it joined the bottom. Now every part of her dress was bunched just above her navel.

You freed yourself from the embrace of her legs and moved back onto your knees to get comfortable. With your face now at the level of her sexy belly, you covered the lower part of her abdomen with a lot of kisses that you eagerly enjoyed, and later reached her crotch.

You grabbed her panties by the curb and pulled them off her legs. You were met with a perfectly shaved and beautiful pussy, soaked in a light layer of shiny fluid, the product of so much foreplay. Miyeon held her breath, thinking you would attack her pussy all at once, but instead you moved towards her inner thighs.

"Oh, come on!" she whimpered, hitting the mattress with her clenched fists.

You had to hide your smile behind her thigh, which you kissed very slowly on purpose. Her hips writhed with subtle movements, and her chest rose and fell in desperate breaths. You moved to her other inner thigh, now kissing so close to her pussy that she let out a high-pitched squeal, grabbed your hair and buried your mouth against her pussy herself.

"Fuck, finally." she said with a sigh of pure release.

Once you were there you couldn't just back out, you would let her win just this once.

Her pussy felt so good against your lips that you were afraid you would become addicted to the sensation. You started with soft kisses and sucks between her folds; then you moved up to her clit and licked it slowly, drawing deep moans from her.

Miyeon caressed your hair and tangled her fingers in it to give it little tugs. You gripped her thighs with both hands, holding them back so they wouldn't move as you picked up a gear. Now you could tell that you were eating her pussy properly.

"Oh yeah..." she moaned, arching her back slightly. "Just like that daddy!"

You certainly didn't expect that word attributed to you from her, but it didn't bother you, on the contrary it awakened a deep instinct in you: it was the sensation of wanting to make her your property, the wild desire to show yourself as a possessive animal.

You grunted in a short breather and wrapped your arms around her thighs, hugging them, to dive back into her wet pussy.

You began to devour her with hunger, driven by the uncontrollable desire of wanting to flood your ears with her beautiful moans of pleasure. Every time she let one out of her, your hands pressed firmly against the flesh of her thighs, and your mouth, as well as your tongue, moved in the most frantic ways possible.

Miyeon writhed on her mattress, both hands outstretched at her sides with her fingers crumpling the white sheets. She was trying to close her thighs around your head, but you simply wouldn't let her; instead, she grabbed onto your hair again to push you harder against her pussy.

"Don't you dare stop!" she screeched, her thighs shaking. "Keep going, keep going!"

Seconds later Miyeon reached her wonderful, electrifying orgasm. You let go of her thighs, and she instantly trapped your head between them to grind her hips against your face. You ate her all that little while, with long tasting licks and loving kisses as her peak slowly subsided.

“Oh my god…” she gasped, letting go of your head. "Take off your clothes. You deserve a good blowjob."

You got up so quickly that in a way you were even embarrassed.

You took off your shoes first, then you moved on to your sweater and finally your pants. Miyeon settled on her stomach, her head just above the edge of the bed. In front of her was your hard throbbing bulge, which almost ripped the fabric of your boxers in its eagerness to be released.

"Come on, show me that thing daddy," she said in a provocative tone, then approached your cock and kissed the outline.

You let her worship your cock for a few more seconds. You stared at her, mesmerized by how she pressed her lips against your shaft and balls, eager to receive more. Soon you would give her what she wanted: slowly pulling down your boxers so that your cock, once freed, would slap her pretty face.

She let out a loud breath of surprise. You smiled, holding your cock by the base to rest it flat on her face.

"Just like you remembered?" you teased.

“I think even better…” she replied, opening her mouth to slide her tongue out and press it against the back of your shaft. "I should have seen it closer that time."

Miyeon's lips and tongue moved into action; she took your cock in her hand to kiss the sides of it, highlighting each path of kisses with sensual licks. She looked up at you, kissing just below your tip before swirling her tongue there.

She made a move to take you into her mouth, but as soon as your tip passed the threshold of her lips she changed her mind and went down to your balls, using her hand to rub the first few inches of your shaft while she salivated them between sucks. You growled and clenched your fists, knowing well that this was a revenge.

"Fuck, is this really necessary?" you complained.

Miyeon let out a smile as she licked your balls and around your base.

"Are we needy, daddy?" she asked, in a mocking tone.

Damn woman.

‘You reap what you sow.’ There, helpless in the face of Miyeon's torturously slow advances, you understood that saying perfectly.

You stayed as still as you could stand, watching through gritted teeth as Miyeon teased you. She repeated the same damn movement without stopping, hoping that you would finally feel the warmth of her mouth. At least what she was doing felt good: by this point your entire shaft was covered in saliva thanks to the tireless sequence of kisses and licks.

But no, damn it. You needed more. And if she had given in to her own impulses, you wouldn't be shy about giving in to yours.

You grabbed a handful of her hair in your right hand and held her still, but she, perhaps anticipating that you would do that, immediately stuck out her tongue to greet you. She had beaten you again.

"You clever bitch..." you muttered, finally taking your cock inside her mouth.

Miyeon accepted you gladly, with a deep resolute moan. She wanted it, she was crazy about the idea of having you inside her mouth, but she just wanted to make you give in to your desperation. It felt like a chess game in which you had received a checkmate.

She sucked a few inches of your cock, her hand gripping the base. Her mouth felt so good that she made you gasp multiple times from the beginning; she moved it slowly, each time taking it further. Finally she stopped a couple of centimeters past the middle. She looked up, evoking pure lust from her dilated eyes and her flushed cheeks.

She pumped her head a few times, moaning around your cock before pulling out.

"I know you'd love to fuck my face..." she murmured, placing kisses on your tip. "But I waited a month and a half for this moment."

"Ah yeah?" you said, raising an eyebrow. "Then enjoy it, slut."

"That's what I plan to do… daddy," she said, adding rasp to her voice on that last word, before returning to your cock.

You gathered Miyeon's hair and held it with one hand behind her head, in a ponytail, to make her job easier.

She slurped your cock hungrily, as if she wanted to give truth to her words. She did it slowly, with sensual, noisy pumps that covered just over half of your shaft.

You let out soft moans, hypnotized by how Cho Miyeon's pretty lips moved faster and faster on your cock. You leaned forward slightly to grab her ass, giving each of her butt cheeks a small spank that made her moan.

From that position you did not hesitate to put your fingers between her buttocks, to rub between her folds and take them inside her. Miyeon let a small moan escape her and she pulled you out of her mouth for air, giving your cock a long lick along the underside to sink back in.

Your fingers pumped in and out of her tight pussy, as she moaned between the now intense bobs of her head. Her ponytail was still firm and taut in your fist; you used it to force her to take your entire cock in a rough and messy deepthroat.

Miyeon didn't expect it; she latched onto your thighs with prickly nails, struggling to minimize the coughing as the tip of your cock rubbed against the beginning of her throat. You didn't let her go soon, not until thick drops of saliva spilled from the corner of her mouth and fell to the ground between your feet.

Once satisfied, you decided to let her go, also releasing her ponytail so that her hair flowed freely down her back. She let her head fall down and brought her fist to her lips to let more coughs come out, between labored breaths. You leaned to the side to look at her, noticing that her eyes were watering.

You took your fingers out of her pussy, and with that same hand you grabbed her chin to make her look up.

"Would you like something, princess?" you asked in a whisper, running your thumb over her lip dripping with saliva.

"Yeah..." she started to say, taking your cock to rub it slowly. "I want you to put it inside me and fuck me... raw."

Driven again by your wildest instincts, you cradled her face in your hands and forced her to her knees, to share a steamy, sloppy kiss with her.

A few seconds later you grabbed her by the waist and made her turn around on her knees, then put your hands on the back of her neck and pushed her forward, so that she fell on her hands with her ass raised.

Miyeon's ass wasn't exactly the biggest, but it made up for it with a perfect shape and softness, like all of her; you spent a few seconds admiring it, rubbing your hands in circles on her buttocks, which you also squeezed before adding a strong spank to each one.

Miyeon squealed and leaned on her elbows. She looked at you over her shoulder, biting her lower lip.

"Enough teasing, fuck me already!" she demanded with a hint of desperation in her voice.

You smiled and applied another spank, harder. Miyeon screeched.

"You don't need to whine again, baby, I got you."

She spread her knees further and put her ass at the perfect height for you, making a beautiful arch with her lower back. Her pussy looked delicious, inviting you to destroy it. You grabbed her by her waist and pulled her back just a little, to grab your cock and press it between her folds.

As soon as she felt your tip rub against her pussy she leaned forward, away from you, and she gave you a stern look.

"What do you think you're doing?" she said. "Put on a condom right now, that's my only rule."

Coming from her, that didn't surprise you in the least. She might be one of the sluttyest members of the group, but you figured some degree of decorum she had to maintain.

"Fuck, it's okay, I'm sorry," you replied. "But don't look at me like that, I might cry."

You took a step back and picked up your pants from the floor. From it you took your wallet. You searched through the partitions until you finally found the condom; you opened it carefully, then threw the envelope on the floor and quickly put it on.

Now ready, you wasted no time and resumed your position behind Miyeon, standing in front of the edge of the bed. She returned her ass to the previous position, watching over her shoulder as you prepared yourself.

You looked into her eyes, and took your cock with one hand to bring it to her slit, where you made slight pressure forward to finally feel Miyeon's pussy slowly engulf you to the core.

She let out a loud moan and clutched at the sheets, her mouth open in an O shape and her brow furrowed as she stared into space. You held your breath, overwhelmed by how tight she felt around your shaft, which had already disappeared between her buttocks.

"God..." she muttered to herself, letting her head fall between her shoulders. "I have never felt anything like this. Please fuck me hard and show no mercy."

That was an easy task, it was your idea from the beginning after all.

The first pumps were slow, in order to stretch her walls as much as possible so that your cock would slide in more and more easily. It was a wonderful sight you never thought you would see: Cho Miyeon on her hands and knees, with her shiny hair falling down her back and her expensive dress wrapped around her waist, at the complete mercy of your cock.

Soon you demanded more of yourself, and she did the same with her eyes.

Happy to comply with her demands you moved your hips faster, making the crashes of your pelvis more pronounced and louder. You had one hand on her left buttock, which you squeezed tightly, and the other on her waist to keep her in place as you let yourself be carried away by your own desire.

Miyeon sighed contentedly, crumpling the sheets with her fingers and biting her lip with her eyes locked on yours. Her moans filled the room, becoming more frequent and uncontrolled as the seconds passed. She let her face fall, her cheek now pressed against the mattress. Her hair covered her face, but you, needing to look at her at all times, uncovered it.

"Harder daddy..." she moaned, pressing her open hands against the mattress. "Be fucking ruthless with me... I'm ready to take it."

The response you gave was a spank that reverberated throughout the room; multiple more like this followed, each with the sole intention of making her really sting. Soon her buttocks were each glowing an intense red color.

Miyeon screamed again and again, her body being shaken between violent thrusts. She grabbed all of her hair and brushed it behind her back, then looked over her shoulder at you and gave you a suggestive look. You got the message: you grabbed her hair in a ponytail to forcefully pull it back, making her raise her head.

With a strong push you rested for a few seconds, with slow but strong pumps that left Miyeon breathless. Then without warning you returned to hammering her pussy so hard that the bed wobbled. She let out a scream, loud and desperate.

"For God's sake, keep going!" Miyeon groaned, hitting the bed and clutching the sheets again. "I'm cumming daddy! Ahhhh!"

You dragged her to her peak in a matter of seconds, pulling her closer to you so you could grab her neck and lift her back, which you pressed against your chest as you fucked her with frantic thrusts.

Miyeon exploded; you surrounded her abdomen with one arm, and with the other hand you clung to her neck. You turned her face to kiss her, drowning out her loud screams against your lips. She moved her hips back, fucking herself against your cock while you held her upright with your arms.

When her orgasm had passed you let her fall like dead weight forward; with that your cock came out of her pussy, but not for long.

She had fallen stomach flat against the mattress; you took her right leg and flexed it upwards, leaving the other extended. Then you went back inside her, with one hand on her right buttock.

Miyeon, with glassy eyes, let out a small tired moan and just relaxed.

"Come on daddy..." she murmured, feeling you deep again. "Use me for your pleasure. Let my pussy drain you."

You were too turned on at that point to be able to formulate a response. A growl rose from your throat and came out through your clenched teeth, as you fucked her again with rapid pumps, this time up and down.

Miyeon allowed herself to be used as a sex doll, an insignificant piece of meat that you could use at will to fulfill your carnal desires. She was just panting, her mouth half open with her weak eyes fixed on yours and her body being brutally railed.

The tickling in your abdomen was the indication that you were approaching that long-awaited orgasm that you had been wanting all night. You pumped quickly, your veins showing on your neck and one on your forehead.

Just as you were going to cum you pulled your cock out of Miyeon, took off the condom with a hasty yank, and masturbated over her ass until your orgasm hit.

She let out a satisfied sigh, watching as multiple jets of thick semen came out of your cock and fell onto her buttocks; these were covered with the thick liquid, forming a viscous layer that reflected the light from the ceiling.

When you discharged each drop you let out a long breath and sat back on your ankles. Miyeon put one hand on her ass and with two fingers collected some of your cum to take it to her mouth.

"Mmm..." she said, tasting it and then swallowing it. "Thank you for not being a selfish bastard and cumming outside."

"I figured you'd want to taste some after begging me like a whore," you replied, catching your breath.

Miyeon gave a low giggle and lay down on her side, letting the rest of your cum fall from her buttock onto the mattress.

"I knew from the first moment that you would know how to use that thing," she looked at your cock, still throbbing, and then at you. "I have no doubt that Soyeonie and Yuqi had a blast."

"Oh yeah? Well you looked horrified, woman," you laughed.

"How would you react if you arrived at the room where you will sleep for the next few days and found three naked people on your bed?"

You thought about it for a moment, staring into space. You then shrugged, finding no fault with her logic.

"Yes, I thought so," she continued. "Now, can you please find something to clean me with?"

"There's no bathroom in here," you pointed out. "I have no idea what I can get you."

"Just look for some clean sheets in the dressing room, I'll use that."

You nodded and stood up to go inside the dressing room. You took out a thin black sheet from one of the drawers in the third closet at the back. When you returned to the bedroom you threw it at Miyeon, who hurried to clean herself.

She then invited you to lie down and cuddle together to take a break.

After about ten minutes—maybe a little more, since Miyeon's body felt very comfortable in your arms—you got up and dressed again. She did her best to look as presentable as before, giving her makeup a few minor touch-ups and combing her hair.

Once Miyeon was as pretty, elegant and superb as always, you took your mugs back and left the bedroom laughing.

"Did you have a good time?" said a high-pitched voice behind you, as you exited the small hallway that led to the glass railing area.

You and Miyeon almost died of a heart attack. You turned around. Leaning against the wall to the left of the hallway was Soyeon, with her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised, staring at you.

That was the closest you'd ever come to knowing how those condemned to be executed by guillotine felt.

Your heart beated fast and strong. You gulped and gave a small glance at Miyeon—who was a living reflection of yourself—before taking a step forward.

"Soyeon, I-"

She pushed herself away from the wall and raised her hand to interrupt you.

"Shut up you fool," she snapped, putting her arms on her hips. "I'm not mad."

You and Miyeon wrinkled your brows and exchanged glances.

"Aren't you?" you asked, looking back at Soyeon.

"No, on the contrary, I'm even hornier because of this," she looked at Miyeon, who avoided her gaze. "You loved that cock, huh? With all that daddy daddy daddy. I could hear your screams from here."

Miyeon's cheeks burned with blush, no longer in pleasure like before, but in shame. She stammered a few clumsy syllables, looking at the floor.

"I know you did," Soyeon cut her. "You don't need to say anything," she looked at you. "Walk back, come on," she ordered, gesturing toward the bedroom.

The two of you led the way back, with Soyeon behind, as if she were a teacher taking two unruly students to her office.

You walked back into the bedroom, embarrassed by the fact that you hadn't even bothered to fix it when you came out. The black sheet was still there, with a white glob exposed to the naked eye. Soyeon didn't say anything about it, but it was something else that caught her attention.

"A condom huh?" Soyeon asked with a giggle, picking up the torn envelope from the floor. "How responsible."

Miyeon couldn't find a rock to hide under to appease the embarrassment; she had cheeks so red that you could mistake her for a dull-colored apple.

"I always fuck with a condom, please shut up," she finally dared to say, crossing her hands on her belly.

"Ah, really?" Soyeon raised an eyebrow, approaching you after placing the envelope on the nightstand. "Adorable. But it takes all the fun out of it."

Soyeon jumped with her heels still on and clung to you with her arms and legs to crash her lips against yours. She took you by surprise, but you accepted it: wrapping your girlfriend's petit frame with your arms.

Her intentions were not unknown to you: you already knew her well enough to know that what she was looking for was for you to throw her into bed; but to give it a little twist you let yourself fall on your back, so that Soyeon fell on top of you.

"Guys... uhm," Miyeon said to your right, sitting on the corner of the bed as the two of you kissed. "Are you just gonna pretend I don't exist or what?"

You broke away from the kiss to look at Miyeon, but before you said anything, Soyeon put her hand over your mouth and made you look at her. Those eyes made the message clear to you without her needing to say anything: 'Shut your mouth.'

Normally, that woman always had an elaborate plan in her prodigious head, so you didn't question her, even though part of that plan included completely ignoring Miyeon.

It wasn't until Soyeon attacked your neck with kisses that your mind lit up. The memory of what she had told you hours before came to you: 'It's easier to make her give in on her own.' There, looking at the ceiling between gasps, everything made sense to you.

Mother of god, Soyeon was evil.

From that moment on everything happened very quickly: in a matter of a couple of minutes you and Soyeon were already completely naked; you had groped and kissed every corner of your body before the expectant eyes of Miyeon, who couldn't stop moving nervously in the corner of the bed. She wanted to get into the action, her eyes showed it, but she wouldn't be the one to take the step.

You had settled yourself in the center of the bed; Soyeon had an idea that only strengthened the desire she had to make Miyeon desperate: she had turned around on top of you, adopting a 69 position only for Miyeon to see her sucking your cock while you ate her pussy.

"I want to at least be touched by you, just a measly little finger, please!" Miyeon whimpered.

Soyeon took your cock out of her mouth—which she had been sucking with an uncontrollable frenzy—, reached out to grab her own panties, and shoved them roughly into Miyeon's mouth to shut her up.

Miyeon let out a moan with Soyeon's panties inside her mouth: a moan that was more like a complaint than anything else, but your girlfriend had done her job. Despite your limited vision—with Soyeon's entire ass and pussy in your face—you could notice that she was now undressing at record speed.

"Pleaseee!" Miyeon whined again. "Either of you two, I'm begging!"

When she received no response from either of you, she began to touch herself. Her patience was already bordering on non-existence, and you could understand it more than perfectly; the worst thing you could do to a person like her was to deprive her of the attention she demanded.

The constant and somewhat exaggerated moans that Soyeon emitted with your cock inside her mouth didn't help either. You were eating her with hunger and dedication, squeezing her ass in the middle of passionate licking.

Miyeon's moans, small and adorable, now joined Soyeon's; these intensified when you brought your girlfriend to her orgasm.

Her body writhed on top of yours; her muscles were tensing and her joints were shaking. She could not have taken your cock out of her mouth, in fact she never did when you made her cum in that position, but this time she did it just to torture Miyeon.

"Fuck me now!" she said, hoping that her turn would be next.

You thought that was your entrance onto the scene; Soyeon had already gotten off you and was sitting on your side. Miyeon's gaze immediately fell on your cock, soaked and throbbing; it was a predatory, eager look.

But the evil did not die, it did not disappear. It rested and woke up when it was poked with a stick.

"No one's going to touch you until you say the words, baby." Soyeon said, brushing her hair off her sweaty forehead and brushing it behind her back.

Miyeon frowned, tilting her head with her mouth open.

"Are you kidding me?" she asked. "What words?! Jeon Soyeon!"

Soyeon ignored her—again—and climbed on top of you. She rested her feet on either side of your hips on the mattress, facing away from you, and took your cock inside her with a single downward thrust. You, like her, moaned out loud.

Miyeon's pussy was tight, but nothing was a match for your girlfriend; it was simply another level of grip and constriction around your cock.

You held on to Soyeon's waist with your hands, while she jumped up and down on your cock in a reverse cowgirl position, so that Miyeon could see in detail how with each jump Soyeon took you in and out completely.

"What the fuck are you talking about, dammit!" Miyeon moaned, hitting the bed as she rubbed her clit in circles with her other hand. "I just want you to fuck me and treat me like the princess I am!"

No word from you two, just moans, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, and a fluid-soaked cock moving in and out of a tight pussy.

Soyeon jumped non-stop, with the seemingly inexhaustible energy that characterized her. Her loose hair formed a curtain that prevented you from seeing your cock disappear between her legs, so you gathered it all into a ponytail and held it in your fist.

After a few seconds she suddenly stopped and looked at you over her shoulder.

"Fuck me, baby," she said, panting. "Fill me with that load."

You let go of her hair and brought your hands to her waist, then planted your feet on the mattress and pumped quickly up and down, intensifying your own pleasure and consequently, your moans.

Adding to the cacophony of lewd sounds coming from you and Soyeon were more moans from Miyeon, including the constant slapping of her palm against her pussy as she fingered herself.

If you were going to fill your girlfriend's pussy to give Miyeon a good show, you were going to do it in style.

You made Soyeon fall back with a tug on her hair, her back now pressed against your chest; then you lifted her legs up and hugged them around the back of her knees, and now fucked her in full nelson.

"Oh fuck yes baby," Soyeon groaned. "Fuck that tight little pussy, destroy it, fill it deep!"

Soyeon's words came true a few seconds later.

The aggressive and rapid pumps brought you too quickly to an intense orgasm; it electrified your entire body, causing you to be unable to stop moaning as you filled your girlfriend's pussy between slower pumps.

"God... it feels so warm, so fucking delicious." Soyeon said after a long moan.

The load was too big and thick, to the point that you felt your cum leak out of Soyeon's walls and down your shaft until it pooled around your base. For Miyeon, the shock must have been such that she even stopped fingering herself.

It was happening.

"For the love of God, I can't take it anymore!" she screamed out of nowhere, like she was about to cry. "Fuck the condom, I just want to be fucked and breeded right now! I'm begging!"

Soyeon nodded satisfied. The princess had relented.

"Then start by coming here and cleaning, you needy little whore." Soyeon said between pants.

The speed with which Miyeon lunged forward made her look like a jumpscare from Five Nights at Freddy's. It even made you laugh a little.

She herself took out your cock from inside Soyeon's pussy, to greedily clean both parts soaked with cum. First she licked and slurped every drop that leaked from inside your girlfriend's pussy, and later she moved on to your cock to lick it all over. Soon your entire load—which had not been small—was swallowed by her.

When the work was done Soyeon got off you and looked at you. She nodded, giving you the green light.

Damn, finally.

The first thing you did was sit up and wrap your arms around Miyeon's body, pressing her against you and kissing her. Miyeon moaned against your lips, running her hands all over your body; one of these went to your cock, only to rub it gently with her palm as she knew you should still be sensitive.

After a few seconds you grabbed her thighs and pushed her back. She fell face up, instinctively with her legs wide open; Soyeon attacked them with kisses and bites, and you went to the upper body, to eat her tits and kiss her from her neck to her abdomen.

Soyeon began to eat her pussy, eliciting a moan from her that could be translated into sincere gratitude. You meanwhile knelt on the side of Miyeon's face, took your cock in one hand and rubbed it all over her face.

“Fuck my pretty face daddy, please,” Miyeon moaned, kissing your cock and looking at you with a pair of glistening eyes.

"I thought you were never going to ask for it."

Miyeon opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, you took your cock in there with a long sigh.

You grabbed the sides of her head with both hands and lifted her to turn her towards you; then you started moving your hips back and forth.

She moaned against your cock, which was going in and out almost all the way; the only thing stopping you from going all the way in with each pump was that little limit she had that you didn't want to push carelessly either.

Soyeon brought her to an orgasm too quickly, but that didn't stop the two of you; she continued to eat her out furiously, and you continued to fuck her mouth faster and harder.

Miyeon screamed with pleasure around your cock, which she also licked from behind with her tongue as it went in and out of her mouth. Her body shook between sharp spasms, her pussy grinding against Soyeon's mouth.

Eager to give her more pleasure, you leaned just enough to the right so you could reach out and rub her clit in quick circles, driving her even crazier.

She could no longer close her mouth around your cock due to the uncontrolled series of moans coming out of it, causing all of her saliva to spill out of her mouth and soak your shaft.

You grabbed a handful of her hair on the top of her head, using it to push her against your cock as you pumped, feeling yourself getting closer to cumming with each passing second.

Then Miyeon came again, twice as hard and twice as pleasurable for you to feel.

Soyeon had to make a tremendous effort to keep her pinned to the bed, holding her thighs. You on the other hand reached your peak after a few seconds, now cumming inside Miyeon's mouth.

“That's it, fuck…” you moaned, pumping slowly as you shot your cum down her throat. "Take it all, slut."

Miyeon swallowed your entire load diligently, even though she could barely control her body and the sounds emanating from her throat; you could hear the little chokes she had as she tried to swallow every drop.

"Damn, I need a break," you said between heavy breaths. You looked at Soyeon. "Honey, all yours."

You pulled out of Miyeon's mouth and went to lay your head on one of the pillows on the side of the bed. You made yourself as comfortable as possible, to enjoy the show that was coming.

Soyeon then left Miyeon's pussy, only to climb on top of her and straddle the princess's face. She moaned immediately, and you knew Miyeon's tongue had been the cause.

Unwilling to give Miyeon a break, your girlfriend leaned forward and took her two fingers inside her; you heard her muffled scream under Soyeon's ass, who held onto her thigh with her free hand, while with her other she quickly pumped her fingers.

"Mmm, come on princess, I know you know how to do it," Soyeon moaned after a couple of minutes, grinding her hips into Miyeon's face as she moved her wrist at supersonic speed.

You frowned, not knowing what she meant by that. But when you saw Miyeon raise her hips you knew, and you prepared accordingly.

After a few seconds Miyeon came, and an immense, pressurized squirt came out of her pussy; she wet you from your knee to part of your foot, also staining the sheets beneath her as the stream lost strength.

"What the fuck..." you muttered, watching as Miyeon's hips trembled. "Since when does she know how to do that?"

You received no response as the next one to cum was Soyeon. She held onto Miyeon's thighs and buried her face in her pussy, while she ground her trembling hips against her face.

The next few seconds were probably just muffled moans against flesh, until Soyeon, already tired, got off Miyeon with a heavy, satisfied sigh.

Miyeon's chest rose and fell violently, as if she had run two marathons in a row. You sat up to look at her; her eyes immediately met yours.

"Are you okay, Miyeonie?" you asked, kneeling next to her.

"Daddy..." she took a deep breath, trying to get her brain working for a moment. "Fuck me, please... Fuck me and put a huge fucking seed inside me."

You raised both eyebrows in amusement.

"And you're sure you can handle it?" you pointed to her shaking legs.

"I didn't ask for your mercy, you damned fool," she snapped with a frown. "I asked you to put a baby in my damn belly."

A laugh escaped Soyeon. You exchanged glances with her, impressed by that last bit.

"Just give her what she wants, otherwise the spoiled bitch will cry again," she said, kneeling next to her.

"Well," you shrugged. "Clearly I'm not going to refuse."

You grabbed Miyeon by her thighs and pulled her close to you; she then spread her legs wide open, giving you the green light to penetrate her pussy with a single thrust.

She greeted you with a whimper. You held on to her waist and then she held on to your wrists, receiving quick thrusts from the start. Soyeon joined in immediately, getting on her hands and knees to kiss Miyeon's lips and tits.

Miyeon's thighs served as a grip for the next few seconds; you squeezed them under your fingers, hard and backwards, pressing them against her upper body. You were already hammering her pussy hard, mercilessly, just like you knew she wanted it.

Soyeon slipped a hand between Miyeon's legs, where she once again set out to stimulate her clitoris so quickly that it brought her to another inevitable orgasm.

Miyeon squirmed and rolled her eyes, her mouth permanently open. You felt her legs shake and her back bend upward as her spasms attacked her, but that didn't stop you, on the contrary you went even stronger.

"You better get ready, bitch," Soyeon told Miyeon, removing her hand from between her thighs. "You will have no rest until that load is inside you."

She was absolutely right. You weren't planning on giving that woman a break after making a whole scene of whining and tantrums to get fucked. You would give her what she deserved.

No sounds of any kind came out of Miyeon, only hints of moans that got stuck in her throat and disappeared with each thrust. Her eyes were half-closed; in them you could only glimpse a fixed white spot. Her hands were paralyzed as well, one on each side of her hips, with her fingers bent downwards and her nails digging into the sheet.

Another orgasm shook her as if she had received the shock of a defibrillator, but that didn't stop you either. You adjusted her position a little: you extended her left leg and sat on top of her thigh, and put her other leg on top of your shoulder. In this way you continued pumping between grunts.

Miyeon had reverted to her sex doll status, to a piece of meat whose only purpose was to drain your cock. There was a moment when she finally opened her eyes and looked at you; you only saw two wells of tears, which spilled down her cheeks and ruined some of her makeup.

She reached out a hand towards you, brushing your abdomen with the tips of her fingers as you fucked her.

"Give me your seed daddy..." she managed to say with complete serenity, even though her body was shaken non-stop and was full of sweat. "Put it all inside me… every drop… I beg you."

Soyeon put her hand to her mouth, watching the whole scene. She shook her head.

"Jesus Christ, what a fucking whore," she said.

Miyeon came one last time, and a few seconds later you followed. You gritted your teeth; your entire jaw clenched and your fingers gripping the flesh of her thigh as you sank inward. You shot every drop of cum that was left in your balls, making sure to leave that load deep inside her pussy.

"Oh fuck yes..." Miyeon whimpered, bringing her hands to her face and combing her hair back, overcome with pleasure. "My god, it feels so fucking good... put it all in, fuck, all of it. Don't you dare waste any drop."

You pumped slowly, with your mouth half open and your gaze fixed on Miyeon's weak, teary eyes. She arched her back and shifted on the bed, her nails digging into your lower abdomen.

Seconds later every possible drop of cum was inside her. You knew you did a good job when you pulled out of her pussy and only a small trickle managed to leak past her folds.

Already completely exhausted and drained, you fell next to Miyeon, lying on your side and supported by your elbow. You looked at her, realizing that she had fallen asleep instantly. You then exchanged glances with Soyeon, who was staring at you from before.

"What?" you asked.

"I want you to know that whatever happens in that womb is your responsibility."

You thought about it for a second and then realized that Miyeon shouldn't be on birth control for the mere fact that she always used a condom.

But fuck it, there were solutions and you didn't have time to think about it. You plopped down, head now lying on the mattress on the side of Miyeon's face.

"I'll go out in the morning to buy her the pill," you said, closing your eyes.

"It can't be more than 12 hours, otherwise it won't be as effective," she pointed out.

"Don't worry honey, I've got it under control," you nodded, clasping your hands on your abdomen. "Are you coming to cuddle?"

Soyeon stood up and crawled until she was on top of you, straddling you and covering your face with kisses.

"I would love to, handsome," she said between kisses. "But I can't disappear for the rest of the night and leave Yuqi and Minnie alone and drunk."

You laughed and opened your eyes, wrapping your arms around her.

"The last time I saw Yuqi she fell on her ass, and she wasn't even that drunk.

"Then I must go with greater haste to put things in order, lest a disaster occur."

Soyeon gently cradled your face in her hands and planted a soft kiss on your lips before standing up.

"You stay and take care of the princess. Rest," she continued. "It's up to you if you want to rejoin the party, but she won't wake up until morning."

You gave a thumbs up.

"I'll be down there in an hour, you have my word."

"I'll be waiting there, honey," she replied as she got dressed.

Soyeon left the bedroom a few minutes later, leaving you alone with the sleeping beauty.

You were forced to place her with you on the opposite side of the bed, on top of the pillows. You tried to separate her from you so she had space, but as soon as she felt your warmth she clung with her arms and legs to you like a koala.

Trying to push her away was useless, but it didn't bother you either; you were so exhausted that you just wanted to close your eyes and rest.

And so you did, since after a few minutes you had already fallen asleep. The last thought you had was the inevitable anguish that if luck wasn't on your side, you would have gotten Princess Cho pregnant.

———————————————-

As always. Thanks for reading! MASTERLIST HERE!

#miyeon smut #soyeon smut #idle smut #g idle smut #male reader smut #x male reader smut #kpop smut #smut fanfic

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writingwithcolor · 6 months

Text

A Careful Balance: Portraying a Black Character's Relationship with their Hair

@writingraccoon said:

My character is black in a dungeons and dragons-like fantasy world. His name is Kazuki Haile (pronounced hay-lee), and his mother is this world's equivalent of Japanese, which is where his first name is from, while his father is this world's equivalent of Ethiopian, which is where his last name is from. He looks much more like his father, and has hair type 4a. I plan to make his character very finnicky about his hair, both enjoying styling it, but also often being unsure how to style it (not in that he doesn't know how to, but has so many options for how to style it, he has trouble choosing). However, I know that there are some very harmful ways to write black hair, especially in regards to how the black character themselves feels about it. Kazuki does not hate his hair, in fact he takes joy in it, and I'm researching black hair and hair styles to be as accurate as possible. But I'm unsure if portraying a black character as occasionally overwhelmed by or vain about his hair is negative. How would you suggest either changing this or making it work? Does it need to be changed in the first place?

Black Character Overwhelmed by Curly Afro Hair

Your Black character wanting his hair to look its best and at times feeling overwhelmed seems reasonable and natural to me. It appears their challenge comes with how to style it. Not so much with struggling how it looks or how hard it is to manage. That is good, as this further helps avoid placing a strong negative focus on Black hair.

Him caring a lot about how it is style should not be deemed vain or frivolous, either. In any case, hair care is self care. There’s nothing wrong with having pride with your hair, especially hair that mainstream society, historically and present, might say is not beautiful. This still matters, even in a fantasy world, since your readers still exist in this reality. It’s empowering and a welcome change to see someone who loves their afro hair, actually.

There are unique factors someone with coily afro hair would experience vs. straight, wavy, or looser curls, but people struggling with their hair (too frizzy, too flat, too limp, too thin, too thick!) is universal.

There is a delicate balance to achieve.

Avoid Writing a Black Hair Journey Experience

An overall negative Afro hair journey might be the reality for many, especially when society deems Afro hair as unacceptable and slaps so many uninvited opinions, laws and policies over its existence and on certain styles (again, historically and very much at present), but that’s the kind of story that is best handled by someone with the background. Someone willing to commit to the research might also be able to pull it off, although it’s truly not the kind of thing an escapism novel needs in my opinion. If the story is not meant to delve into “A Black /Black Hair Experience” then I'd avoid going that route. That is moving a bit towards a struggle narrative, depending on how much it defines your character’s story.

Add positive and neutral hair language and interactions

For your writing, I’d avoid using unchallenged negative language about his hair. Being overwhelmed at times and frustrated is one thing and expected. If his hair is constantly brought up, and is associated with uncontrollable, ugly, or too [insert struggle here], then rethink the direction you’re going.

Add some positive or neutral terms, reactions, and interactions in the narrative towards afro hair, such as describing color and texture.

“His fine coils bounced in the wind.”

“Hair black and shiny”

“She wore her hair in two large, fluffy buns.”

“He admired his fresh, neat braids in the mirror, smiling at his reflection, before turning to leave.”

Another tip: It may have been for research purposes, but leave out any hair number categorizing in the story and rely on description. I’d say this goes for any story, as reading the number would feel off.

“He had coily 4a hair.” Nahh! :P

Also, I would suggest sending all passages that focus on his hair to a Black sensitivity reader for review.

More reading:

~Mod Colette

#asks #black #black hair #hair #afro hair #description #tragedy exploitation #struggle novel #creator responsibility #representation #guides #writeblr

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kentopedia · 4 months

Text

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ BLAME IT ON THE BLACK STAR — hayakawa aki

summary . . . maybe aki’s in the wrong for all the mixed signals he sends you, but it’s your fault for always picking up the phone.

contents . . . f!reader, angst, complicated relationships, smoking, miscommunication, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, ambiguous ending, hurt/comfort i suppose — 5.6k

notes . . . this is my first time writing for aki so pls be nice i’m nervous hdjwjwk <33 i’m not all the way caught up w csm so it might be inaccurate idk

Aki calls you, sometimes, when he’s feeling lonely. You figure, by now, he must have your number memorized, with how frequently your phone ends up ringing.

Of course, you always pick up, knowing you shouldn’t, knowing it’ll just end up hurting. But you can’t help yourself, really. You’re incredibly weak for a man that you know will never commit his life to you. You learned that lesson a long time ago.

Still, you’re a fool who refuses to move on.

Instead, you stand, shivering in the cold in front of Aki’s door, waiting for him to answer it. The lights are off in the apartment — you have no idea where his new roommates are for the evening, but they clearly aren’t there. Aki wouldn’t have called you otherwise; you’re certain he doesn’t want anyone to know about the two of you, save for those that have known since the beginning.

Heavy footsteps pad across the floor, and then the lamp in the hallway flicks on, illuminating the threshold in a beam of yellow. The door unlatches, opening just a crack, as his blue eyes drift down to trail over you.

“You got here faster than I thought.”

“I’m freezing, Aki,” you say, pushing through the door. His palm falls away, rests at his sides. Its only eight o’clock, but he’s already in sweatpants, a loose sweatshirt hanging over his tall frame. Dark hair falls across his cheeks, still damp from his earlier shower.

“Sorry,” he says, shutting the door behind him. “I was in the bathroom.”

You don’t reply, and shrug your coat off instead, hanging it on the rack that is now full of jackets that don’t belong to him. But you’re barely able to get it onto the hook before Aki has a palm around your wrist, tugging you towards him, the smell of his body wash and shampoo lingering in a cloud around him.

A little welp of surprise leaves you as you spin around, nearly falling into his chest. Instead, you collide with his mouth, the heat already settling down on you as heavily as it always does when Aki is around.

He kisses you, long and hard, hungry for the taste of you, his head craned down to meet your height. For a moment, you let him. It’s sweet and familiar, all the things you’ve ever wanted.

In moments like these, you indulge in thoughts of a life where things are different. A life where Aki can greet you at the door, smile when you kiss him, instead of the pensive expression he always wears. A life where Aki doesn’t come home with new scars every few days, where he isn’t hell-bent on a goal you’re not sure he can ever achieve.

That dream of yours won’t ever become a reality, but it doesn’t stop you from savoring the taste of his mouth against your own — how much you’ve missed it, even when you shouldn’t.

When you’ve run out of air to breathe, you push him away, and Aki stands straight, blinking like he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong.

“Not even going to offer to make me dinner?” you ask, keeping him at a distance. Although you meant for it to sound playful, teasing, it comes off full of a bitter resentment. Your face is probably drawn up into a scowl, even if you can’t see it.

Aki blinks, rubbing his forearm. His lips part, then he shuts them, furrowing his eyebrows together. “You said you were cooking — over the phone, you said you’d already eaten.”

“Well, at least you remember that.”

Confusion spreads even further, tighter, stretching to every corner of his expression. Aki’s hands twitch listlessly at his side, just as his mouth does. “Are you upset with me?” he asks, and you know he’s smarter than that, that he might not be the most sensitive to others’ emotions, but he is certainly no fool when it comes to yours. “If you didn’t want to come over tonight, I wasn’t forcing you.”

A laugh almost escapes you — instead, you muster up a cool grimace. Like you aren’t going drop everything for Aki every time he says I don’t want to be alone tonight.

Really, it was laughable how tightly he had you in the palm of his hand, and you can’t fathom that he would think otherwise. You’ve always done whatever he needed; given him whatever he wanted.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in the hospital?” you ask finally, swallowing back your annoyance as you gesture towards the bandage around his arm. It’s wrapped up tight, but the bandages are fresh, still a starched white.

His eyebrows tighten further. The air around him changes, even though his expression doesn’t. “Who told you about that?”

“Himeno.”

Aki purses his lips. “I didn’t realize you two were friends now.”

You did laugh then, shaking your head as you make your way into the living room, looking for any subtle changes in his apartment. There are new pairs of shoes that certainly don’t belong to him, a sweatshirt that looks about two sizes too small.

“I wouldn’t really say we’re friends,” you shrug, not bothering to look at him. The air in the room is somehow off-putting, and you take it in like it’s the first you’d ever seen of the place. “But how else am I supposed to find out if you’re still alive?”

You give him a sad little smile, and slowly, the irritation seeps out of his face, his shoulders slumping. He looks tired, then — far too old for a man that is still so young.

“It wasn’t that serious. I’m fine now, aren’t I?” Aki gestures to his arm, flails it wildly, as if to prove it’s still working properly. “Just a scratch.”

“It is serious. It’s serious to me,” you say, narrowing your eyes, and though his tone is warmer, he doesn’t smile at you, not like he used to. He maintains a vague air of surprise, while dampening any emotion that could cloud over his lack of understanding. It annoys you to no end, that he won’t let you see him.“I’m always worried about you, idiot. Don’t act like you don’t know how I feel about you.”

Aki blinks, then draws his lips together in a thin line, shaking his head. Although you were pointedly avoiding each other’s gazes, you could feel the tension drawing you together like a cord.

God, you missed him every time you were apart. You went to your regular job, thought all day about the man who would never love you like you loved him, wondering if he was okay, if he’d pick up the phone and call you again next week. Or if, one day, it would be Himeno instead, telling you that you’d never see him again — or, god forbid, Makima, with her careless tone of authority. That thought alone haunts you even with your eyes open.

But for now, it’s still Aki who calls you, and every time, you are overwhelming relieved to hear the sound of his voice again. Heavy tears always drop down your cheeks as you dig the phone into your ear, wishing that it was his mouth there instead, and wishing that those pretty blue eyes still looked at you with the same sort of softness they once had.

“I told you…” Aki begins sharply, but then he trails off, finally meeting your gaze. His features pinch once more, melodramatic, as he scans the sadness that you could never hide in your expression. “Damn it.” Car lights flash over his face through the window as someone drives past the apartment complex. The darkness of the room becomes even more evident when they disappear.

“I know,” you say, resigned, as you watch him scrub his hands over his face, and inhale heavily. It’s hard for you to keep your emotions from getting the best of you. “You’ve reminded me — many times. I know this doesn’t mean we’re back together. I know, Aki.”

His jaw parts, lips faltering at the beginning of a phrase. Despite his tall frame, he falters, looking so small, as sadness filters into the eyes that shine a deep navy in the shade of the evening. Beside him his fingers twitch, curling up into his palm, before he takes two long strides towards you.

The mere second it takes him to get there passes without your memory, and your back hits the door to his bedroom, softly, as he looms over you, fingers brushing your cheeks.

A thousand times you’ve been in this position, and it’s so familiar that your hand reaches up instinctively, splaying across his chest. Aki’s breaths leave him, deeply, expanding through his lungs before he exhales them across your cheekbones, oxygen splitting at the bridge of your nose. “What’s wrong?” you ask quietly, blinking up at him from under your lashes.

“That’s not what I meant.” His voice comes out on a hoarse whisper.

“Hm?” You dig your fingers into his sweatshirt, the material thick and warm. “What did you mean?”

Tenderly, his thumb brushes across the hollows of your cheek, the sharp bone that juts out. Aki’s fingertips are so rough and calloused, but that familiarity brings a sob out of you, your hands springing up to grab his wrists. “That I’m not fooling anyone,” Aki says, swallowing, eyes roaming all over your face. “That I can’t stay away from you, no matter how hard I try.”

Your lips part, but your breath is stolen away by another kiss, blanketing your mouth, warm and with an emotion that you’re certain you can taste. It takes you less than a moment for you to close your eyes, to relax into him as always, melt into his familiarity. The taste of the cigarettes he smokes lingers on his tongue, seeping deep into your own lungs.

As he bumps his nose with your own, you reach up, run your fingers through his hair, untangling all the knots that have accumulated since his shower. At the same time, Aki palms at the door behind you, not bothering to look up as he fumbles for the door handle, slipping it open.

Aki always kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever do it, struggling to unglue you from himself. He kisses you like he knows he’s going to leave again, and it might be for the very last time.

It’s a sickening emotion to live with, but you’ve accepted it all the same.

You ignore the feelings that never leave you alone when you’re with Aki, and stumble backwards into the room, feet catching under you. Although you nearly fall, Aki catches you, arms heavy around your waist, large palm spreading across your lower back.

“You’re so pretty,” he says, nearly carrying you to his bed. The two of you latch so tightly onto the other, that you will surely go tumbling down if either of you makes the wrong move. “I’ve never met anyone as pretty as you.”

“Aki,” you mumble, shaking your head. “I don’t want to hear that.”

He stumbles, and you do fall onto the bed, then, his heavy body on top of you, landing with a thud. But he’s careful to catch himself, to tuck his arms into the space beside you, as he kisses across your cheeks, down your neck, to your chest.

“Why?” he asks into your skin, voice low and rough. “You don’t think you’re pretty?” his tone is dry, sarcastic. Aki’s fingers fumble with the zipper on your jeans, slipping your pants off faster than you can inhale a fresh set of air into your lungs. “Want me to prove it to you?”

Despite your lingering resentment, you crack a smile, shift your hips so he can pull your bottoms off completely. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll fall in love with me again?” you say off-handedly, running your hands along the edge of his shirt, before slipping cold fingers under it. His skin is hot there, abdomen soft, muscle just as lean as it was last week, but stronger than when you’d first met him.

Aki’s eyes soften. “Why would I be afraid of a thing like that?”

You don’t like the double meaning in his words, and you don’t want to read into it. Instead, you pull Aki back down to your mouth, hoping he’ll take and take from you, even though he’s always one to give. The one who calls you, who needs to be inside of you, but won’t worry about himself until you’ve come apart at least once.

“Feels like it’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” he says, pushing your thighs further apart, muttering the words against your lips. His fingers graze the outside of your panties, as you slowly begin to wet them with desire that burns hot in your stomach. “I missed you.”

You feel his smile curl as he kisses across your chest, around your collarbones, and you sit up far enough to slide your shirt off. Aki does the same — there are fresh scars on his body, healing wounds. You can’t look at them for too long, before grief rises up in you, mourning a man that is not yet dead.

“Whose fault is that?” you ask bitterly, pushing the top of his head to sink him to your thighs. Instead, he takes his time pressing his mouth around your belly, swirling his tongue just past your hips.

A sigh leaves you, and you sink deeper into the mattress, eyes blinking closed. He’s so slow, so deliberate with every movement, like he’s been waiting all of this time just to lose himself in you. Ridiculous, really, considering that he could have you at anytime, and he knows it.

You’d hate him for it, for stringing you along like this, but that would be hypocritical, really. You’re the fool that continues to play the game.

Aki ignores your passing comment, squeezing your thighs as his face drifts down your body. His hair brushes against your bare skin, still a bit damp, but so soft, the scent of his soap so familiar you could pick out the shampoo with your eyes closed.

“Want my fingers or my mouth first?” Aki whispers into the inside of your thigh, kissing the delicate skin there as he looks up at you from under thick, black lashes. They flutter over his cheekbones, the hollows of his eyes, and he’s so pretty… it’s no wonder you’re so far gone for him. “Since you’re in such a mood tonight, I’ll let you choose.”

There’s a tiny smirk on his face, and even though you’re about to answer, Aki takes it upon himself to kiss your cunt through your panties, the fabric sticking to your skin.

“A-aki,” you stutter, caught off-guard, fingers lacing through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. “You didn’t give me a chance to answer.”

He drags his tongue up your clothed cunt, wetting it even further, so you can’t tell if you’re soaked from his spit or your own arousal. “I picked instead. Like the way you moan when my mouth’s on you,” he says off-handedly, and heat rushes to your cheeks as you stare at the ceiling, still so shy when it comes to his dirty mouth. “No one’s here,” Aki continues, words vibrating against the bone, puffs of air drifting around your sensitive area. “Want you to be loud.”

A tiny laugh escapes you, but it is quickly stolen by a whimper as he sucks your clit into his mouth through the cotton of your underwear, an old pair that was anything but sexy. Although, you’ve known Aki for so long, been with him for so long, there’s never any reason to try and impress him.

“Feels good,” you say, closing your eyes as you rest on the pillow. Aki pushes his tongue against your hole, teasing. His fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your thighs, keeping them from locking around his head as you search for more friction. Your chest rises and falls with the heat of your breathing, but Aki doesn’t let you rub yourself against his tongue, doesn’t let you move much, really. “Aki,” you whine, and though there are times when he doesn’t let you get your way, this isn’t one of them.

“So impatient,” he says cheekily, but he slips your panties to the side, your cunt vulnerable to the frigid winter air. You shiver, and he sinks his tongue into you completely, the heat of it warming you as he swirls it inside, spreading you further open with his fingers.

Your body grows hot all over when Aki thrusts his tongue in and out of your aching walls, your juices seeping onto his tongue. He moves slowly, savoring every moment that you’re in his bed, even as you try to arch into him, speed him up so that you can orgasm faster. He’s right: you are impatient, because it’s been days since you’ve last felt him inside of you, and nothing feels as good as Aki’s thick fingers and cock.

His nose bumps your clit as he drags his tongue in a thick stripe up your cunt. A moan leaves you, and without thinking, you jerk your hips up, forcing them towards his face. The sound from your chest is so lewd, and you’ll feel shy about how loud you were later, but all you can think about is his mouth on you.

Aki smiles, kisses the inside of your thigh. When he lifts his head, the ache inside you burns deeper, the sight of him with saliva and fluid dripping down his chin almost too much for you to handle. “Taste so good,” he hums, massaging the skin around your knees, hoisting your calves up over his shoulder blades. “Think you can cum from just my tongue, baby? You’re so pent up, I don’t think you can last much longer.”

You whimper, pressing your heels into his back as Aki’s tongue resumes lapping up your cunt, long and hot, massaging the most sensitive spots inside of you. You can tell he’s hard, aching as he shifts his hips awkwardly, trying not to press them in the bed.

Aki picks up his speed, head bobbing slightly as the heat insides of you builds; normally, you would’ve lasted longer, but you can’t remember the last time you’ve even touched yourself, and your most recent orgasm must have been with Aki.

You don’t tell him when you’re close, but he already knows, sucking harder on your clit as you finally come, body jerking into him, walls spasming. Your eyes squeeze shut, and his name leaves your lips much quieter than he would’ve liked.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Aki says, tugging off his sweatpants, the only layer between you and his cock. His dark hair is slightly mussed from your fingers, the way you’d pulled at him, tried to guide him where you wanted him, even if he already knew. “So easy for you to get me hard, you know that?” His cock is leaking at the tip, desperate for release, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “Just the thought of you spread out like this is enough.”

A desperate whine leaves you, and you reach behind, unclasping the straps of your bra, the last remaining garment between you and Aki. He grins at that, his canines so sharp, teeth a little crooked, but the prettiest smile you’d ever seen because you see it so rarely.

“Gonna play with those pretty tits while I fuck you, baby?”

“Fuck, Aki, please,” you groan, reaching for him, pulling his mouth to your own. You kiss him hard, hoping that he knows you love him, and hoping that he feels guilty about that fact. “Want you inside me. God, I need you so bad.”

He presses his forehead to your own, lining his cock up with your entrance, the head prodding at your gaping walls. You get so sensitive, even from just one orgasm, that you wince a little bit. But the uncomfortable feeling eases as he presses into you, kisses you sweetly.

“Fuck, fuck,” Aki groans, biting down hard on your shoulder. “God, you’re so wet, so warm. You feel so good around my cock, baby. Such a pretty girl for me.”

Your nails dig into his back as he slides, slowly, out of you, before he thrusts back in, still not rough enough for your liking. Aki’s hair falls around his face, his mouth parting just a bit, focus dilating his irises. His biceps flex as he holds himself off the bed, snapping his hips into your aching cunt.

“H-harder,” you mumble, trying not to shout, to moan too loudly into the open air of the evening. Aki’s walls are far too thin, and his neighbors know who you are. The last thing you want is for them to see you as Aki’s fuck-buddy that moans like a bitch in heat. “Please, sweetheart.”

Aki groans, a deep sound that reverberates all the way from his chest down to his stomach. The affectionate name twists something up in him, and Aki thrusts his hips faster, kisses your forehead, your cheeks, any part of your skin that he can get his mouth on. His hair tickles your jaw, nose nudging against your face as he mumbles into your skin, “so needy, aren’t you? I want to take my time with you, and you just want to get off.”

“Can’t help it, Aki,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you buck your hips upward. “God, you feel so good, I lo—”

You stop the words from leaving your mouth, but Aki already knows. He’s known it for a while now, and you should be embarrassed by the fact that you can’t let him go.

Wide blue eyes stare back at you, full of something you can’t define, but still so soft as he pulls away. He draws you closer, slides your legs around his hips before pinning your own to the bed with large, heavy palms. Aki’s built with all lean muscle, and he’s so tall — so much taller than you that it’s easy to forget because he treats you so gently. Still, he blankets your body, makes you feel small in the nicest way.

Because you know that even though he can never commit his love to you, he’d never let anything — human or devil — lay a finger on you. You love him, you love him, you love him.

Aki follows your wishes, sinks faster inside of you as you exhale heavily. Your nails dig into his back so tightly that you start to worry you’ll break the skin. But Aki loses himself in the feeling of you, panting into your chest as he moves his hips.

“F-fuck,” he mutters, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m not going to last long inside you like this. Maybe I should slow down—”

“No, no, I’m close,” you stumble over your words, meeting Aki’s intense eyes, a thousand emotions relayed in them as he blinks at you. “It’s okay.”

“God,” he mutters, whispers the word between you, even though you’re certain he hasn’t believed in him for a while, and you’re not sure you do either. “I don’t deserve you.”

You wonder if Aki meant to say that at all, so you let it go, let the words exist between you as if they were never there at all.

His palm guides it’s way across your stomach, the touch featherlight, before he reaches for your breast, thumb flicking across your nipple. The nail catches, and you moan, almost there once more. Aki’s cock hitting all the right places, so much better than your own fingers.

“Aki,” you say his name over and over, your mind going numb from thinking about him.

“I know,” Aki mutters against your lips, hot air ghosting across them on his exhale. “You’re okay. Let go for me, baby. Did so good for me, want you to cum on my cock.”

His voice, so deep and rough in your ears, sends you over the edge, and a sound forces its way up your throat as you clench down on him, your cunt spasming from your orgasm. It hits you harder than you’d been anticipating, legs squeezing around Aki’s hips as you dig your toes into the mattress.

“There we go,” Aki wipes your hair away from your face, kissing your temples, so gently that you think you might cry. It’s not fair for him to be so sweet, so loving when you know he’s going to kick you out of his apartment before the night is over. “My pretty girl. Shit,” Aki mumbles, cursing lowly before pulling out of you, quick, and spilling into his palm. It takes him less than a stroke down the length of his cock, the thick cum spurting out, falling onto your hips, beside you on the mattress.

It’s not your mess to clean, though, and you can’t bring yourself to care. Breathing heavily, you watch Aki fumble for something on his nightstand, before he gives up, wiping his wet hand on the already soiled bedsheets. Then, he collapses down onto his side, staring, watching your chest rise and fall.

“Aki,” you say, turning away from his eyes to stare at the ceiling, the cracked plaster, stained from water leaks. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Silence falls across the room, and you can’t bear to look at him, refusing to see the indifference on his face. There’s nothing, he says nothing, before sitting back up, shuffling through the nightstand once more.

The beams of streetlights sway against his silhouette, encased in a beautiful swirl of purple and navy hues. His hair seems an even darker curtain, coiling around his jaw as he hides from you, hides the emotion that was less than evident on his face.

You sigh, and flip back on your side.

Aki takes a few drags of the cigarette, puffing them into the stale air. It reeks, probably, in the tiny bedroom, but all you can smell is the tangy scent of Aki’s soap, the lavender that lingers on his skin, the cleanness of the linens that have been recently washed. This apartment, sometimes, feels more like home than your lonely one does, even though being with Aki is almost like being on your own, sometimes.

“Those things are going to kill you,” you say under your breath, still fascinated by the way the smoke draws deep into his lungs, puffs out in a cloud, relaxes him easily. His veiny palms flex, long, slender fingers holding the cigarette between them.

Aki doesn’t laugh, but it’s close to one, a snort almost, as he breathes again. “Not like I’ll be alive much longer, anyway.”

“You sound like Himeno.”

“Do I?”

You sniff, and scoot up against the wall, sitting beside him. Despite your argument, you take the cigarette from him, smoke it yourself, and place your lips around the exact place where Aki’s had been. He watches with the same rapt fascination, blinking slowly, before staring at the ceiling as you had before.

It’s Himeno he should be with now, really. Another Devil Hunter. A woman he can fuck without getting his feelings all mixed up, someone who probably understands him better than you do. He’s never loved her like he loved you, and she wouldn’t take offense to it either, you think.

But it’s you he calls instead. It’s you who is too weak to leave.

“I’m sorry,” Aki whispers.

“So am I.”

You reach across him, press the cigarette into the ashtray and drop what’s left of it amongst the other ends. Aki’s fingertips dance along your spine as you do so, and you wish he wouldn’t touch you, wish he’d just kick you out of the bed, toss you out of the apartment, spit at you like you weren’t anything but a whore.

Instead, he kisses your shoulder, draws you in close, curls his tall frame around your body, and drags you back down into the bed.

It hurts more than you want to admit, because this is what you want. You’d truly go the rest of your life, never have sex with him again, if he’d always hold you like you meant something to him.

“I need to go home,” you say, remembering that you still haven’t eaten dinner, that you’d left your things in disarray, your clothes unfolded on your bed. There was never a reason to before, because with Aki, you’d always go home, just before the last train. You’d be tucked into your bed that same evening after a nice shower. “Aki…”

“Stay.” He kisses your collarbone and shoulder again, throws his thigh over your own, and traps you against his body. “Please stay. You can wear that T-shirt of mine you like so much. I’ll make you breakfast. You can meet Power and Denji, and then I’ll take you home tomorrow morning.”

You swallow, damning your weak-willed heart for succumbing so easily. Fingers curl around his wrists as you bask in his embrace, how warm he is, despite normally running so cold. “Aki,” you whisper again, tears welling along your eyelashes. “You can’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to me.”

“Do what?” His voice is just as quiet as your own, and he’s still kissing you, holding you like you’re something precious. But he is surely not that stupid about your feelings, to how he has been tearing you apart for the past year, even though you let him.

You sniff, trying not to cry, never wanting to embarrass yourself, even if you have sobbed in his arms on numerous occasions. “You must know that I love you. I’ll never stop loving you. Even if I marry someone after you die, I’m certain your name will still be etched into the chains on my heart. I’m just a stupid, dumb girl.”

He says nothing, and you do cry, then, tears streaming down your face as you twist away, stare out the curtained window, the thin fabric fluttering from the heat that kicks on.

“Please don’t call me anymore. Just let me hurt for awhile, so I can get over you. You’re so selfish, so selfish, why can’t I just move on?” You bury your face in your hands, wipe your tears, try to fight against him as he pulls you into his strong chest, kisses the top of your head. Still, even then, even when you want to hate him, you’re putty in his heads, melting and craving the place in his arms that feels like home.

“I can’t let you go,” Aki says, wiping your tears. “Fuck, I can’t — I need you. Do you understand? I need you, and I know I’m a selfish piece of shit, but I don’t want you to move on.” He frowns, clenching his jaw, twisting his expression up. “I’ll be better.”

“Aki—”

“I’ll love you like you need, honey. I thought,” Aki scrubs his palm over his face, the other still stroking across your back. “I thought it’d make it easier, all this distance between us, to let you go. I can’t put you in danger, but I can’t stop loving you either.”

You inhale sharply, leaning your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, committing the harmony to your memory. Who knows how much longer it will be in there, how much longer Aki will allow it to exist before he destroys himself completely.

“Aki, you’ll never love me like I need, because you’ll always put your work first,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut. “I realized that a long time ago.”

He shifts, pushing you away so you could look each other in the eye, the astounding resoluteness in his irises. How serious he was about trying to be someone he was not. “I can try.”

You sob.

And you wish you could just say no; say no and walk away, forget his name, never answer the phone again, never call Himeno to check up and make sure he’s still breathing.

But you can’t — it’ll never be that easy.

Pushing him away, you rest your head back on the pillow, trying to make yourself comfortable as you turn your back to him. Perhaps, the morning will give you clarity. You’ll stay, but you’re not sure for how long.

“I’m tired.”

Aki curls against you, rests his arm around your hip, kisses your neck, cheek, temple. “Okay,” he relents, holding you close, chest pressed against your spine. “I meant what I said about breakfast. Maybe we can talk about it then?”

You want to say no, but you won’t. He’ll kiss you in the morning, and you’ll kiss him back. Settle on your knees and give him a blowjob while he’s still groggy, before slipping on his T-shirt, chattering off his ear as he makes you breakfast. You’ll probably even curl your arms around his stomach from behind, stand on you tiptoes to reach the space between his shoulder blades.

Power and Denji will come home at some point, and probably say something rude, as Aki says they do to everyone. Then you’ll go home, and you’ll still be in love with him, and Aki will forget the conversation even happened, because he’ll say anything to get you to stay.

Or, maybe, he’s being honest. Maybe he will love you like you want him to.

Less than likely.

“Okay, Aki,” you agree, too tired to argue or acknowledge the emptiness in your stomach. “We’ll talk about it in then.”

reblogs appreciated!! thank you for reading!

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satorusluver · 6 months

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Dilf!Toji x college student!reader

Word count: 800 ish

Tags: smut (MDNI), slight fluff, fem reader, age difference, p in v, mating press, doggy style, mild degradation

A/N: I can't get dilf college au Toji out of my mind so....

Although it had been a couple of years since his wife died, Toji hadn't had the time to date. He was too busy balancing his work and single fatherhood, especially now that he was going back to school. Instead, he settled for the occasional dating app hookup to get his needs met. Until he met you.

You had to be what, ten, twelve years his junior? But you were a pretty little thing, and no matter how much you tried to hide it, you practically drooled over your older dilf classmate. Toji didn't miss the way you eyed him every time he walked into class, or how easily you would get flustered with just a bit of flirting on his part. Toji didn't have time to date, no, but that didn't mean the two of you couldn't come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.

After all, Megumi often needed a babysitter on nights Toji worked overtime. Toji was quite up front with you about it -you watch his son for a couple of hours until he got home from work, and in return Toji would reward you with a crisp twenty and by folding you in half like a lawn chair on his bed and pounding your cervix with the fat, precum-dripping head of his eight inch dick until you soaked his sheets with your cum.

"Oh, fuck, To-oji!" you cry, your orgasm rocking through you as your messy cunt squirted all over Toji's wide girth. He loved seeing you like this, your knees against your chest and your eyes rolled back in bliss as he fucked you completely dumb on his cock. And Toji, well, he had quite the mouth on him in the heat of the moment, something which he'd warned you about ahead of time.

"Atta girl, don't gotta fuckin' think, do you? Just gotta cum for me. Ohh fuck, that little pussy's squeezin' me so tight," he huffs, leaning his massive, muscled form over you to achieve an even deeper angle as he fucks into you harshly. The overstimulation of him hitting that spongy spot inside you so hard makes your toes curl and your body arch into him, unable to get enough even if it's too much.

"What're you even in college for, princess? We both know your real job is taking my dick. You should just quit and become Megumi's stepmother so I can fuck you this good every night. Wouldn't you like that, princess? Hungry little cockslut that you are, practically beggin' for my dick the moment I walked in the door." But instead of answering him, you slap a hand over your mouth to keep your sobs of pleasure from being heard by Megumi, who was currently watching cartoons just down the hall.

You both knew it was his dick talking, that he didn't really mean it, but when he was balls deep in your sweet, tight heat and your needy little cunt was sucking him back in with every thrust, he'd utter things he'd never otherwise dare.

"Fuuuck yeah, wouldn't mind coming home to this everyday, having this pretty little pussy waiting for me." As he speaks, he reaches his hands down to gently spread your pussy lips with his thumbs, getting a good look at your puffy pink folds and swollen clit that glisten with your mixed juices.

You'd never admit it to him, he was cocky enough already, but you think his dick might've spoiled you for all other men. He was by far bigger than any of your exes, and far more experienced thanks to his age. The ease with which he managed to find your g-spot never ceased to amaze you, and not one time have you had sex with him without him getting you off at least twice.

As the semester dragged on, you kept coming back for more. One night after a shitty first date you show up to his house all dolled up and holding back tears after your date went to the bathroom and never came back, and it's mere minutes before he's ruining your so carefully done makeup by shoving your face into his pillowcase and fucking the melancholy from your failed date right out of you.

"He was a fuckin' dumbass, that guy," Toji says as the two of lie next to each other in the afterglow. "Leavin' a girl like you alone like that. If I took you out, I'd show you a good time...well, I just did show you a good time," he adds with a chuckle.

"But you know what I mean. If...if you were up for that..." he mumbles, nervously scratching the back of his dark, now disheveled hair.

"I thought you didn't have time to date?" you ask him, although your tone is light and a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

"Yeah, well, for you...maybe I do."

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theminecraftbee · 6 months

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Etho and Grian are back at base, hysterically laughing over their achievement. Cleo sits inside, staring, as the two of them talk about getting a wither and a warden to fight, and tries to figure out what she feels about it.

In some ways it's not their fault. Task made them do it and all that. Plus--

Well, it's not like she and Etho are losing hearts anytime soon. They've both done a damn good job keeping themselves from dying. A benefit, Cleo thinks, of deciding to team with Etho this time. Between the two of them, they'll largely only do chaos they can recover from. Maybe this is their game. Maybe this time, Cleo manages to stick with someone until the very end. It looks like it. It looks like...

Grian, of course, is the confounding factor.

She wasn't going to turn him away. He needed allies. They needed someone a bit better at actually doing damage than herself or Etho. It's mutually beneficial. And, besides, he's weirdly lovable, in an inherently kind of dangerous way. A little like loving a bobcat someone had accidentally raised as a pet cat until it got a bit too big and stinky and murdery for them. Like, yeah, he shouldn't be domesticated and he's not, really, in any sense of the word, but it's a bit sad to watch him try to survive on his own now, right?

Hah. Maybe that's what Scar managed to do to him. Would explain a lot, really.

Anyway, he's her bobcat now, which is the problem.

See the thing is: Cleo understands Etho. It's why finally deciding to be partners for once felt... right. They're similar flavors of people. Scared, mostly. Survivors, but not in the 'will stab anyone' way that like, Martyn is. Loyal, although Cleo has no delusions that Etho is as loyal as she. And scared. Has she already said that? Scared. It's important to the kinds of things she and Etho are. Like... mountain lions, maybe. Mountain lions that have been around just enough people to know how dangerous they are. Like that.

God, she's only doing cat metaphors. Bdubs really is turning them all into furries.

Anyway, the point is, Grian isn't scared.

And that... terrifies her.

That's scarier than anything else. Because, see, Cleo wants to survive. But more than that, she wants her partners to survive. And she and Etho, the two of them are doing well. Better than most people. They're green and they have so many hearts.

But Grian? Grian's yellow and not afraid and goading Etho into not being afraid too. It's not their fault, exactly, Cleo thinks. They both had hard tasks. They didn't have a choice, Cleo thinks.

But. But.

She doesn't know what to do, if Etho gets convinced the humans down the mountain aren't scary. She doesn't know what to do if he gets too close. She doesn't know what to do if he gets hurt.

Because she--she doesn't think she can learn to stop being scared, anymore.

But she also doesn't know how many times her heart can stand to lose someone.

Did you know--wild cats are social? They have a reputation for being loners, but mountain lions, they're social. They don't do well being alone. They don't actually hunt solely alone. That's the important bit here. They seem independent, sure, but actually...

Anyway. This is Bdubs's fault. For making her a furry, apparently.

She watches Grian and Etho scheme together and sits back and breathes and tells herself that Etho isn't going to stop being afraid anytime soon. That if push came to shove, he, at least, would retreat back, and that maybe the two of them could convince Grian to retreat too. Safe from hunters. Safe from red.

Maybe safe from hurting each other, too.

(She's not so sure about that part.)

#secret life smp #secret life spoilers #zombiecleo #a bee fic #staring in. cleo and the fact she seems to consider dying before or at the same time as her allies as her happy ending #staring in. cleo and the fact that the thing she and etho have most in common is CAUTION.#and then staring at grian.#hm. well. hopefully that ends better than it seems like it might.#ALSO SHOUTOUT TO ME HAVING THE BRITISH PERSON USE METAPHORS USING EXCLUSIVELY AMERICAN WILDCATS #in my defense they're the ones i'm actually familiar with

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maryrouille · 1 month

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Toxic romanticization of studying

In a word of introduction, my profile partly shows that studying and exploring is wonderful. But as a person involved in science*, I would like to show healthy and true patterns of this beautiful adventure in acquiring knowledge.

The inspiration for writing this post this time was not the phenomenon from Tumblr (although you can also observe it here), but from Pinterest. There you can come across cycles composed of quotes and photos whose aim is to motivate young girls to learn, succeed and get good grades. These images often also show examples of characters from movies, TV series or real life that you can aspire to be like. Overall, I have to agree that it really works! But I would like to draw attention to certain elements that need to be verified.

1. You shouldn't get up at 5am

First of all, the correct amount of sleep is one of the most important factors affecting the proper and effective functioning of our brain. During sleep, nerve cells regenerate, organize information acquired during the day and consolidate memory traces, which is directly related to learning. Lack of sleep increases impulsivity, deepens negative thinking and slows down the body's reaction time!

2. You can be a genius without good grades

Of course, good grades are a pleasant confirmation of our knowledge and praise for hard work. However, sometimes it is worth considering whether the structure of exams themselves, especially those with closed questions, affects the results. We often study for one specific exam, the knowledge of which may be very… limited and sometimes not useful, so it is worth prioritizing the topics that we study hard.

3. It's not cool to think you're better than others

We are different and have different priorities in life. It is also worth considering how many people escape from the rat race and start a slow, stress-free life. So we have to agree that judging people based on grades or responses under stress (sic!) is not cool.

The good thing about romanticizing studying

As I have already said, these types of collages are really motivating. So let's talk about what's great about them and what's worth highlighting and saving for later.

1. Knowledge is beautiful, but your outfit and surroundings can also be

We know that we should never judge a book by its cover, but… the issue of social perception painfully confirms that we do and will continue to do so because this is how our brains work. And isn't it nice when someone looks at us and thinks this girl is so classy?

Moreover, a nice outfit that makes us feel good gives us a lot of self-confidence. There are also many studies confirming the positive impact on motivation and concentration of a neat and aesthetic workplace.

2. Not just cramming, but also discovering

Broadening your horizons is easier with passion and real commitment. And to achieve this, the topics must really interest us. Not everyone has yet found something that they are extremely passionate about in science, so that is why you have to dig deeper and discover different areas.

3. Don't be afraid to use your knowledge in practice

Schools and universities, unfortunately, have their own rules and they do not always allow you to show your 100% potential. Thus, share your knowledge with others externally, write essays, blog and social media. This form of activity also makes you learn things faster and easier. In addition, contacts with others will expand your knowledge.

Therefore, I must say that it is worth choosing your inspirations carefully. Nothing helps you enjoy studying better than a clear head and lack of prejudices.

*This post was inspired by my own experience with studying. If anyone is interested, I think I can share my mistakes that did not help me in an academic adventure :)

#study aesthetic #healthy studying #study motivation #studyblr #dark academia #light academia #studyspo #study inspiration #study inspo #study blog #studying #productivitytips #studyblr community

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evilwickedme · 23 days

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I keep seeing news that Israel has rejected a ceasefire deal from Hamas and/or that Hamas has rejected a ceasefire deal from Israel, and I'm having a very hard time keeping up with what's true, what terms have been rejected by who, and how ceasefire negotiations have been going in general. Do you have any information you could share or sources you could direct me to that would give this kind of news in an unbiased way? I think that saying that either side rejected a deal without explaining what parts of the terms were not agreed with is dishonest and I hate that I keep seeing it.

Thanks and I hope you're well and safe.

I'm not going to source this with anything specific cause my job is in the news so I'm just doing this off the cuff while literally on the bus there lmao

Both sides are in fact constantly rejecting ceasefire deals, for their own reasons. Some scattered thoughts from the last several months of coverage

One of the biggest points is ending the war. Hamas keeps going back and forth on this but is mostly insisting that even for the first, humanitarian stage of the hostage/ceasefire deal Israel must agree to take out all of its troops and essentially leave Hamas to remain the ruling party in the Gaza strip

This is essentially the only hard no on Israel's side. Netanyahu especially refuses to end the war without a military victory that essentially is impossible to get without entering Rafah (and in my opinion is currently impossible to achieve at all). There is a willingness to pause the war in exchange for the hostages up to a certain degree, but there simply isn't a chance that Israel is going to give up on defeating the remaining Hamas military divisions in Rafah and hopefully killing Sinwar

A lot of the problem is that Hamas will present a deal that Israel finds unacceptable, Israel will take time to deliberate, come up with a middle ground, and then Hamas will actually make a worse offer in return. A lot of things that Israel is currently putting on the table were things Hamas originally requested and was willing to be on those terms, but now they want things that are even further from Israel's interests.

For example, at first Hamas was asking for women and children to be allowed to go back to northern Gaza. Now they are asking for the entire civilian population to return to northern Gaza... And for Israel to not even check that no Hamas agents are going back up north, where there are still many rocket launchers that were never found. Personally I would like that not to happen, as I would like rockets to not be launched at me. Maybe that's a lot to ask, idk

Another example is the fact that at first Hamas asked for a certain number of terrorists to be freed, but that about a third of them (iirc) would be picked by Hamas, with no veto power given to Israel. The offer currently on the table gives Israel no veto power at all, and unlike the deal from November where Israel only freed terrorists who failed to kill anyone, this time Israel will be required to pretty much exclusively free murderers.

The truth is Hamas has very little interest in a hostage deal. They don't want the terrorists in Israeli prisons as much as we want the hostages that are, according to current intelligence, being used as human shields, many of them surrounding Sinwar at all times. The first hostage deal led to humanitarian aid being brought into Gaza, which due to Israeli negligence has been taken over by Hamas; aid is being increased (although not enough) with no "return on investment" so to speak for Israel.

(sidenote: yes, there is not enough aid entering Gaza. Also, a lot of the aid is being taken by Hamas officials, with the remains being sold at outrageous prices to the refugees. Shit is bad from all directions here)

Meanwhile, the IDF has essentially pulled all its soldiers out of Gaza. There are currently only two military divisions in Gaza iirc, and they're mostly just staying there with not much happening. The current attack on Rafah is "small scale", and comes as a direct result of rockets being shot at south Israel on Sunday, resulting in several people being grievously injured. Overall, not much military action is happening, meaning that, for example, agreeing to cease military activities in Gaza is relatively unimportant to Hamas rn (emphasis on to Hamas).

And another truth is netanyahu ALSO doesn't want a ceasefire. The moment this war ends the public will demand an election (hell, a THIRD of the public is demanding an election NOW, before the end of the war), and he has lost many of his more casual voters. He will be forced out of the government either by his party or by the voters, and netanyahu wants power over all else, fuck the hostages.

He doesn't WANT to answer for his actions in front of his citizens. It's no coincidence that he is willing to be interviewed by the foreign press but no Israeli papers or channels; it's no coincidence that he refuses to allow the Israeli negotiators to come up creative solutions, instead giving them extreme restrictions. And his absolute refusal to even acknowledging the possible existence of a future Palestinian state is going to fuck Israel over in unimaginable ways

In short, fuck Hamas, fuck Netanyahu and the current extreme right wing government, #bringthemhome #freegazafromhamas and #ceasefirenow

As usual, I recommend a mix of Haaretz, the NYT, and the wall street journal as my favorite although never unbiased journalism on i/p. It is so important that we all understand that nobody is unbiased about any political issue, including me, and especially not about Israel and Palestine. It is an extremely charged subject that is best parsed out by reading from a variety of sources, and always noting that if something is only quoted or referenced by sources from one "side", it's frankly probably not true.

I hope for the best, and may this nightmare end as soon as possible

#i/p #jew tag #gail speaks #ask #3rdsday

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choisanboobenthusiast · 9 months

Text

Princess

Pairing: sub!mingi x fem reader

Genre: smut MDNI

Word count: 3.0k

Summary: Mingi is inexperienced, you're not. He finally feels ready to take the next steps in your relationship and you find he is surprisingly more subby than you would have thought.

Warnings: fingering, oral both receiving, established relationship, begging, overall sublike behaviors portrayed by Mingi, reader is a little bit of a switch if you squint? Idk not a lot of warnings here, Mingi has a huge dick and you give him the sloppy toppy, okay? please let me know if I need to add something

a/n: Considering a part two on this based on how well it is received. Personally I live and breathe sub Mingi so I wouldn’t be opposed to a second part. This is my first smut oneshot so any feedback is appreciated 🫶🏻

Part two

You and Mingi had fooled around plenty of times in the near month you two had been dating but things had never escalated to sex. Sure, things got heated but the night usually ended with you naked beneath him as he got you off on his tongue and fingers while he still had his pants on. He was never shy about shedding his shirt, always proud to show off the top half of his body. And why wouldn't he be? He'd worked hard to achieve his current physique.

But when it came to sex you knew he was a little nervous, having only gone that far on a few occasions whereas you were pretty experienced. You never pushed him in that direction, wanting him to be completely comfortable before he got fully undressed with you. And he seemed pretty content with just getting you off, not like you were complaining about that but you wanted to make him feel good too.

Your current situation wasn't much different from any of the other times you two had gotten frisky. You'd gone to Mingi's for a night in of watching your favorite show and eating lots of crappy snacks. A couple episodes in though Mingi had started to trail his hand up your thigh, squeezing it slightly. This wasn't always sexual for him, he really just liked to be close to you. So you didn't give it a second thought, enjoying the feeling of his big, warm hands on you as you cuddled. Mingi was a bit like an oven mixed with one of those giant teddy bears, you always felt small and cozy in his arms. It wasn't until his hand inched closer to your core and his lips pressed softly to your neck that you began to take notice of his actions. You weren't surprised, date nights in often took a turn like this.

He continued to leave small, gentle kisses on your neck while his hand massaged the inside of your thigh. You quickly abandoned your tv show and turned your face toward him. He had a somewhat pleading look in his eyes, he always did, although you'd never actually told him no.

Things escalated rather quickly after that, your tv show now being drowned out by your steady stream of moans and gasps as Mingi worked two of his large fingers inside you. He was taking his time, teasing you by not touching your clit and not increasing his pace just yet. Oh no, not until you asked him for it. He loved to hear your voice whine for him and he knew it would if he was patient. And my god, was he patient. Of course he loved pleasuring you but he loved drawing it out too and he was good at it. Better than anyone you'd ever been with. Besides, he just couldn't deny how hard your breathless little voice made him.

"Mingi..." You sighed exasperatedly, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. You knew it's what he wanted and you weren't going to deny him anything right now. "Your mouth, please."

God, he loved it when you asked. He could feel himself growing harder at your request, if that was even possible at this point. He didn't make you ask twice, feeling insatiable himself, and quickly buried his face in between your thighs. You gasped and gripped the couch cushions as he latched his lips onto your clit. You couldn't help the obscenities that rolled off your tongue as he continued sucking on your sensitive bud, finally speeding up the pace in which he fucked you with his fingers.

With his free hand he pressed one of your legs back, your knee and shoulder nearly meeting. You ground onto his face, not being able to control yourself anymore as your hands left their place on the couch cushions and pulled on his short hair. You stared down at the mess of black and blonde between your thighs, thinking you might be pulling too hard. That is until he looked up at you, tongue still lapping at your clit, his eyes more needy than ever. You tugged experimentally and he choked out a whimper. Of course you had pulled Mingi's hair before, you knew he enjoyed it to a certain extent but you'd never been so aggressive with it.

"You like that?" You questioned, your tone genuine.

He nodded and paused for a brief moment to say "pull harder."

You did as he asked and he moaned around your clit, the vibrations of his deep voice causing you to jolt. Mingi had displayed sub-like behaviors before on occasion, usually when you were sitting on his face, which he'd told you was his favorite position to eat you in. A few seconds passed and he pulled away hastily, toppling over you and bringing your lips into a messy kiss, your wetness still coating his mouth. You whined as he removed his fingers from inside you and wrapped your legs around his waist.

"Let's go to my room." He said lowly, hooking your arms around his neck and pulling you up off the couch.

You held onto him tightly as he began walking the both of you toward his bedroom, his hands gripping the underside of your thighs to keep you from falling. You played with his hair and nipped at his neck as your naked body rubbed against his clothed one as he hadn't even managed to peel his shirt off yet. You began grinding against him as best you could in the position you were in. You just couldn't help yourself, you could feel how hard he was through his sweatpants.

"Want you to grind like that on my face, baby." He whispered in your ear before lying down on his back with you hovering above him. You didn't answer and instead continued to kiss his neck and his jaw, loving all the little sounds you were pulling out of him. He groped your ass, attempting to push you upwards to get you where he wanted you. "Please." He whined. "Wanna taste you again. Please baby."

"Okay, but take this off first." You tugged at his white t-shirt and sat back on your heels.

"Whatever you want." He replied quickly, almost as if he didn't mean to say it, like it was a confession and began pulling his shirt over his head.

"Whatever I want, hm?" You questioned and he stopped midway through removing his top, holding it over his face.

"Yes." He answered quietly, the words muffled by the fabric covering his mouth. "Whatever..." He took a deep breath. "Whatever you want."

You giggled at him and his sudden shyness. He had only ever been shy like this towards the beginning of your relationship when he'd admitted to you that he was super inexperienced. You didn't mind though, secretly taking pleasure in teaching him, especially because he was very eager to learn just how to pleasure you. He'd done all the basics before but just like with sex he had really only done them a handful of times. He had quickly become super comfortable with you and you wondered now if his sudden word vomit meant what you thought it did.

"Mingi?" You pushed his shirt over his head, revealing his pink tinted cheeks. He averted your gaze immediately as his cheeks turned bright red with embarrassment. "You mean whatever I want?" He nodded silently, his lips pressed together tightly. You chuckled at him again, assisting him in removing his shirt completely and tossing it to the side. "So... if I told you to take these off too?" You fingered the band of his sweatpants and ground yourself onto his cock. He whined in response, finally working up the courage to look you in the eye.

"Y-yeah." He breathed out. "I'll take 'em off."

You bent down to kiss him, hands wandering over his toned chest. "I'll do it for you, baby." You said quietly in his ear.

You were slow with your actions, wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine. You kissed down his jaw and neck, sucking and nipping at the skin of his collarbone as his breathing got heavier. He was raking his fingers through your hair, holding it away from your face gently as he watched you go lower and lower, leaving a trail of wet kisses down his abdomen. The muscles in his stomach tensed when you palmed him through his sweatpants and he sucked in sharply.

You had waited for this for a while, what felt like quite a long time. You were excited to finally be able to give back to him what he had given to you so many times. Not only that but you were dying to know what he looked like from the waist down, what he tasted like and what he felt like, in every sense of the word. You had certainly felt him through his pants pretty often so you had a fairly good idea of his size, you knew he was big but you could only tell so much with a barrier in place.

After what felt like a very long time of nothing but kissing and touching his chest and his arms you finally hooked your fingers into the top of his sweatpants. You shuffled your body down to rest around his knees and carefully began pulling the fabric down his hips. You very quickly realized he wasn't wearing any boxers as he lifted himself slightly off the bed to allow you to pull his pants down further.

"No underwear?" You teased, deciding to test the waters. "Naughty boy."

He gulped and stuttered. "I-I knew you were coming over so I didn't... put any on." You couldn't lie, he was adorable like this. With his face flushed, ears pink and that same pleading look in his eyes. There was no denying it, he liked the way you were treating him.

You had to stop yourself from audibly gasping upon getting his pants down his thighs, seriously. This is what he's been hiding? You thought before gently wrapping your hand around the base, your fingers unable to meet. "Mingi, you're... huge." You placed your other hand around him, running your thumb over his sensitive tip, already leaking precum. He choked out a sound you'd never heard him make before as his hands flew to cover his face. Was he embarrassed? Usually men of his size were more than happy to show it off. You wondered if this was why it had taken him so long to be intimate in this way with you.

"Sorry, I-I know I'm big. Maybe I should have said something or.. I don't know." He rambled. "We can stop if you want."

"Stop?" You began running your hands up and down his length. "Mingi, why on earth would I want to stop?"

"Cause aren't you kind of ungh i-intimidated?" His hands flew to fist the sheets, eyebrows furrowing as you continued your slow motions. "I don't wanna hurt you." He cringed at his own words.

"Don't worry about me. I promise, I'll be fine." You shifted off his legs, releasing your grasp around him and pulling his pants all the way down his legs. You'd always known Mingi had huge thighs but getting to see them like this had you drooling. You ran your hands over his tense muscles and he shivered beneath your touch, looking at you with desperation, plush lips parted ever so slightly. "I bet you don't really know how to use this thing, huh?" You teased, stroking him a single time. His breath hitched and he shook his head.

"Sh-show me." His voice nearly a whimper. "Like you showed me everything else."

He was unbelievably hot like this, naked, sprawled out on the bed for you with his face scrunched and chest heaving. So desperate to be touched. You knew you could get him to beg for it. You knew that he wanted to. You danced your fingertips lightly over his cock and ran your hand up his chest, resting it softly at the base of his neck.

"You want me to show you?" You asked, kissing his shoulder. He nodded quickly. You brought your lips up to his ear and whispered. "Big boys use their words."

"Yes, I want you to show me." He answered, his voice quiet and deep.

"Hmm." You trailed your fingers across his collarbone and over his chest, testing another boundary by grazing one of his nipples. He sucked in sharply. "It doesn't sound like you want it that bad."

"I-I do!" He protested. "I do want it, please, I want it so bad."

"Okay, since you asked so nicely." You smirked, shifting to straddle his legs again as your hands wrapped around his cock, stroking gently. The idea of riding his face now long forgotten as you continued to pump him slowly, avoiding his sensitive head to tease him.

His hands were still fisted in the sheets as he watched you. The sight of your tiny hands around his huge cock enough to cause his muscles to tighten and his breath to quicken. His eyebrows strung together as breathy little moans fell from his parted lips and his hands flew to clutch at your thighs as his hips began to buck up every now and then.

"Please." He mumbled, fingers pressing harshly into your flesh. "Please, more."

"Oh Mingi, you beg so nice for me." You finally allowed your thumb to swipe over the head of his cock while you stroked him, earning you a string of whines as he pressed his head back into the pillow.

"Fuuuck." He groaned.

"You want more?" You asked, quickening your pace just slightly. "Want me to suck you off?"

"Fuck yes." He answered, squeezing your thighs.

"Gonna be a good boy and sit still for me?" You shuffled further down his legs, his hands falling back onto the sheets.

"Yes, I'll be good, I promise." He breathed.

"Who knew you were such a sub, Mingi?" Before he could utter another word you took the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking on it gently and running your tongue along the slit. His hands flew into your hair immediately, aiding you in keeping it away from your face while also enjoying the image of your lips wrapped around him. He was too large to fit all of him in your mouth but you tried you best, taking in as much of him as you could until he hit the back of your throat. Once you had as much of him in your mouth as you could manage you peered up at him and god, was he a sight. Mouth agape, body glistening with sweat as his large chest heaved and his eyes stared back at you. You began moving your mouth up and down his length at a languid pace, making sure to hold eye contact with him and keeping a hand on the base of his cock to jerk off what didn't fit in your mouth. Your other hand massaged his hip and thigh gently as you continued your ministrations.

"Feels mmph feels so good." He brought his lower lip in between his teeth as he continued to watch you bob your head up and down his length, the muscles in his abdomen flexing over and over again involuntarily.

You popped your mouth off of him momentarily to take a breath, a string of your spit and his precum connecting your lips to his leaking member. As you caught your breath you licked him like a popsicle, relishing in all the pretty noises you were pulling out of him, sounds you'd never heard him make before, moans and whimpers you could listen to on repeat.

"I'm gonna cum." He suddenly announced, his grip on your hair tightening.

"Already?" You mocked, flicking your tongue over his sensitive tip.

"Unngh, yes." He whined, his body beginning to writhe beneath you, eyes closing tightly. "Please, please put me back in your mouth." He pleaded desperately. "Wanna cum in your mouth, please."

"Do you think you've earned that?" You began to suck on his cockhead again and he groaned loudly. You loved how vocal he was being, never having heard him like this before.

"I will!" He cried. "I'll do whatever you want just, fuck, please let me."

You didn't make him beg anymore and took him back into your mouth quickly. His hips bucked up at the feeling of your hot mouth enveloping him again and in seconds he was moaning louder than ever before. "C-cumming, I'm uhhnf-" His voice caught in his throat as he released in your mouth, holding your head down until the tip of his cock nudged at your throat. You couldn't help but choke around him as you did you best to swallow his load, surprised by his sudden movements. After a few moments his dick stopped twitching and he released his hold on your head. You came off him with a gasp, wiping the remnants of his cum from your lips and chin with your hand. He lied breathless beneath you as his cock began to soften, eyes still closed.

"Mingi..." you moved to straddle his waist, hovering above him, not quite letting your bodies touch. You stroked your hands gently over his chest and took his flushed face in your hands before kissing him roughly. He moaned into your mouth as your tongues slid over one another's, not seeming to care that you tasted like him. His hands fell weakly on your hips, tugging slightly, urging your body to make contact with his. "Mingi." You repeated, petting his hair softly, waiting for him to open his eyes and look at you.

"Hmm?" He questioned, a tiny content smile on his lips.

"Would you look at me a second?" You giggled. He opened his eyes then, although only about halfway. "Do you want to keep going? You seem a little... sleepy?"

"No, no, I'm not sleepy!" He protested. "Just felt so good." He sighed happily. "You're really... you're really good at that." He confessed with a grin.

"Thank you." You smiled genuinely down at him. "You did so good for me." He blushed at your praise and gave the flesh of your hips a languid squeeze.

It's not long before Mingi is rummaging through his nightstand, searching for a condom, while you discard that last bit of clothing you had on, eager to continue.

part 2…

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez mingi #ateez smut #mingi x reader #mingi smut #song mingi x reader #song mingi smut #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot

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moumouton4 · 9 months

Text

Voyeurism || L Lawliet + Light Yagami x fem!reader

A/n : Prompt 11 of the Smutember 2023 ( Well this is a test because if you know me I've never written something like this ) Also thank you so much for the anon who gave me this idea ! I can tag you if you want just let me know in the comments 😙

The list of promps is HERE

Smutember 2023 Masterlist ⚜

Warnings : voyeurism, masturbation, rough sex, exhibitionism ?, 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 893

L had always been known for his concentration when he set out to solve an investigation that no one else could answer. In fact, he was recently called upon to help solve a number of unexplained deaths in Tokyo. He had found his main suspect in Light Yagami, a brilliant young man who undoubtedly had the necessary intelligence to achieve whatever he set out to do.

L was well aware of this, and so decided to handcuff himself to the other young man. However, the latter had asked to regain his autonomy for a week, because according to him, his girlfriend was coming to visit him. L was suspicious at first, as he hadn't had any information about this famous Y/n L/n his suspect was talking about. At first, he refused, too skeptical, but finally, on the day you came to the meeting point and after a long body search, you were allowed to enter the HQ and Light was released from his restraints.

However, L hadn't said his last word, and so he asked for cameras A-B-S-O-L-U-T-E-L-Y everywhere, so that no plot could be hatched while he couldn't physically watch Light. To organize himself, the detective opened the surveillance videos on one screen and the files he was studying as part of his investigation on another. The day itself had passed without a hitch.

When night came, however, things took a completely different turn. Although you and Light were not sleeping in the same room, L, still awake at this late hour, became aware of the suspicious movement. Just as he was about to alert one of his colleagues, however, something unexpected happened. He saw you on the surveillance screens, throwing yourself at Light, who kissed you and began to strip off your clothes in the process. Throwing you bare before the men's eyes. Except that one was supposed to see and the other not at all.

In no time at all, all your clothes flew to the four corners of the room, before intertwining on the fresh sheets. L was well aware that you weren't going to do anything wrong that might hinder the investigation in this situation, and especially that he may not be supposed to witness the sexual frolics of two young adults. But one thing prevented him from looking away from the live video. He who was only interested in investigations and sweets found himself totally obnubilated by Light's manner, exerting all his dominance over you, pinning you against the bed as he quickly railed into you, as if he knew that here anyone could come and disturb you at any moment ( no, Light didn't ask you to come and break L's concentration )

The raven-haired young man tried as hard as he could not to look at the obscene scene unfolding before his eyes, but no matter what he did, his gaze always ended up returning to the forbidden content. He even found himself thinking what a pity it was not to have added sound to it, he couldn't help imagining the different noises you could make. And just that thought and the images gave him a hard on. Which surprised him, because he'd long thought that this kind of content had no impact on his body.

Though, the heat that began to rise in him showed the real influence your actions had on his hormones, his eyes never taking their eyes off your body, which arching against Light's as he fucked you hard.

Without having to reach any further, he witnessed this intimate moment of two lovers cumming, bodies clinging to each other as you both shook with ecstasy. It was only after the two of you had calmed down in the video that L came out of his trance like state, realizing that his hand was tightly gripping his hardened member through the softness of his pants. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, but he couldn't help but wonder if it would happen again. He knew it was wrong, yet he couldn't help doing a little math in his head : on average, young adults have sex 3 times a week. He couldn't wait.

Maybe it was the thrill of the new place or the excitement of the investigation, but during that week you'd have sex once a day. And each single time, L was there to watch Light pound into your pussy. He wondered how tight you were, but seeing the look on his suspect's face almost made him want to leave his office and go to your room.

From the third day onwards, he began to masturbate as he followed your lovemaking, something he'd never had the idea or the desire to do before. And when he saw you talking or walking in the corridors, his big black eyes followed your every move as if he could see through your clothes, and with his photographic memory this was practically the case. When you talked to him he always got hard and his grey pants didn't hide anything, luckily he was sitting down most of the time.

But you and Light weren't as innocent as all that, you knew full well that there were cameras in your room, maybe that's why you did it so many times. This may be the only case L won't be able to solve.

#death note #death note imagine #death note smut #l lawliet #l lawliet imagine #l lawliet smut #l lawliet x reader #ryuzaki #ryuzaki x reader #ryuzaki smut #light yagami #light yagami imagine #light yagami smut #light yagami x reader #light x reader #light smut #smutember 2023 #smut #miri-writes

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pia-nor481 · 2 months

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max verstappen (mommy AND daddy issues king) has a praise kink and is definitely open to being a sub (maybe spanking, choking, bondage and some overstimulation? even mommy/daddy kink, dare i say. but him calling his partner mommy/daddy, not being called mommy/daddy)

And he was too nervous to speak with her about his mommy kink. So I think that one would be a spur of the moment thing when he’s subbing, he was not afraid to ask her to dom!!! He’s a switch king. Then when he does eventually call her mommy he panics, almost completely closing himself off as he thought it could ruin the relationship. She became very good at reading him, “Max, look at me. It’s okay.” They’d both had such long conversations about communication in relation to sex but that didn’t make it much easier. “I don’t think it’s weird, don’t ever worry about that.” Max loved to be comforted and cared for (mommy and daddy issues coming in)

He loves praise and often claims he would die with out it. The praise doesn’t always need to be verbal, although this is his favourite.

I never considered him being choked however I have thought about it. The most common would be if she’s riding his face (reverse cowgirl kinda) and she leans forward slightly, pressing against his neck. This has been plaguing my mind for a while.

In terms of bondage, I believe he likes to do the tying up more than being tied. But he likes his hands being bound, both as a punishment and the wait for a reward.

Overstimulation? Absolutely, he wants to cum dry. I think it’s hard to achieve for him. But he loves it so much.

Now spanking I’m not too sure about, I can’t see it while him subbing, he prefers softer sex. He likes her to be gentle and sweet. Although if he’s domming, he LOVES spanking, seeing the marks or hearing her complain about the sting. He can’t get over it.

#lucien-calore #�� mailbox #MV:thoughts #max verstappen #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 x reader smut #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #33 max verstappen #max verstappen x reader smut #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut

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konigsblog · 3 months

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captain price taking advantage of the new recruit who just so happens to be a lightweight by forcing her to drink because 'it's a special occasion' so he can take advantage of her😵‍💫

WARNINGS: NON-CON/DUB-CON, RAPE, AUTHORITY, INTOXCATION, AFAB!READER, THREATS.

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. MDNI 18+

you're new to the team, having just joined and went on your first solo mission by yourself. the others were incredibly proud of you, especially your captain, who decides it'll be a special occasion, that they'll take you out drinking for your achievement.

although, price's reasoning was much more different than the rest. the others, simon, kyle and johnny, simply wanted to treat you to a drink for your hard-earned work. price, on the other hand, had a more... sick and perverted reasoning, you could say.

price was fully aware that it was wrong to come onto and force himself onto the rookie, especially since you're so new to the military, so vulnerable and gullible. it would break your poor, little heart to have your trust betrayed like this, but price was selfish and entitled, and didn't care about your feelings or emotions – more bothered about getting into your panties instead.

the others could tell you had too much to drink, and in hindsight, perhaps price was pressuring you into having another shot, another glass, yet they didn't step in, unaware of his brutal, violent intentions. and they'd never know the full truth, with the muzzle of price's gun pressed against your forehead as a threat to keep you quiet, sliding your panties to the side and easing further into your sopping wet cunt.

your weeps were muffled by price's large and calloused hand against your mouth, silencing your frightened, drunken wails. a smart, yet stupid, little thing beneath him; listening to orders so well, yet foolish enough to get raped and violated by an experienced superior you thought you could trust. you were oblivious to his sickening, perverse fantasies, his meaty and girthy dick thrusted into your unprepared pussy forcefully.

he'd be cruel enough to pretend to sympathise with you, wiping your tears away and cooing at you, your body sweating and your breathing rapid, getting slapped across the face abruptly and painfully.

this wasn't a good look for a soldier, doll...

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lucyandthepen · 10 months

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love on the floor - i. | njm

exactly when does vice president na turn from the company’s worst nightmare into your favorite daydream?

pairing: chaebol!na jaemin x secretary fem!reader rating: vaguely M, but will very quickly escalate into a hard R in coming chapters genre: romance, fluff, (eventual) smut (in later chapters), chaebol!au warnings: jaemin isn’t really a total asshole but he isn’t great at the beginning either and i think that should be a warning, there’s probably some language use that deserves a bit of caution i GUESS, but tbh nothing much here because we want to pretend that this is a fic of chaste circumstances and not a lead-up to raunchy, depraved smut word count: 16.4k

author’s note: first of all, the development of this fic is absolute SHIT because i love context too much and refuse to shut up at the beginning only to get antsy for the ending so if the pace is a little stop and go … it’s because i’m a Fewl !! and i totally own up to that !! and second of all, this is actually just a set-up for about two more shorter (?? what’s shorter) works that i’ve already been wanting to write but felt like i would be remiss in doing so without some kind of build-up to the relationship so :^) here we are ! heavily unbeta'd and miss lucy is a bit rusty but we carry on for the sake of enjoying oneself (and practicing writing once again) muah enjoy!

At least this job gets you free medical.

Actually, all things considered, this is an excellent job with limitless benefits. You never have to worry about the three-level insurance, you have monthly paid-for visits to the dentist, and you sometimes get to use the company car for personal errands for as long as you meticulously check everyone else’s schedules and butter up the head secretary, Son Seungwan, just enough so that she feels mollified enough to let you have this favor (but not too much to the point that she catches on and gives you a ten minute lecture on the rising prices of gas post-the-turn-of-the-decade). Your rent’s well paid-for, and the apartment you’re staying at is comfortable, albeit a little smaller than most, although that’s just because you prefer spending your money on once-in-a-lifetime type things, like front row seats to a Paul Kim concert. You get 50% discounts at the company cafeteria, which boasts a pretty nice salad bar with more than just perilla leaves as the greens. The bathrooms even have luxury soap installed into the automatic hand dispensers, so you always come out clean and fancy smelling.

All in all, the job’s pretty perfect, to the point that you don’t think leaving will ever truly be in the cards — except for the fact that you barely see your boss, which, as nice as it sounds on paper, is actually the most stressful part of the position.

You’ve always been of the opinion that if Vice President Na Jaemin put his mind to something, he’d actually do it very well, but the running issue is that he hardly ever puts his mind to anything, especially when it comes to work. In fact, the only thing he ever seems to take seriously is having eleven hours of uninterrupted sleep, which you personally think is an extremely hard thing to achieve, leading you to the firm belief that if he channeled that energy into something less dead-to-the-world and a little more productive, things would be amazing.

And maybe things would also be a little less distressing if his family would just accept him for who he is instead of expecting too much (or, actually, anything) from him, but Vice President Na is the only son of the family that owns the largest telecom company in the country, so his parents have a ton of huge expectations for him. His father, in particular, is clearly trying to prepare him to take over the entire business, something that the Vice President clearly isn’t keen on doing, based on the many arguments you’ve had to sit through alongside Head Secretary Son. The result is a lot of tension that’s only exacerbated by the Vice President’s desire to avoid more conflict, which he does by suddenly disappearing from the office for hours — sometimes days — at a time.

So for as much medical, dental, and reasonably priced caesar salad as you’re getting from this job, you’re not entirely sure how worth it those things all are if they come with the task of you having to sit through twenty minutes of lecturing in place of Vice President Na Jaemin himself.

“This is the last time,” President Na roars — not necessarily at you, but at you, in your general direction, while you stand helplessly in front of his desk, your hands folded across your lap and your head hung low. You don’t really feel terrified or hurt — more than knowing that the President isn’t shouting at you for your incompetence, you’ve also gotten used to being on the receiving end of these weird, indirect lectures and have thus come to know the exact standard of ‘sorry’ that you have to look for it to be over as quickly as possible. Still, you’re kind of annoyed that this particular spiel is taking up precious minutes from your afternoon break. Then again, you don’t know what you’d expected to begin with when you’d come back from the cafeteria after lunch and found the Vice President’s chair abandoned, leather cold, indicating that he’d been gone for quite a while. It’s about four o’clock now, and he still hasn’t come back, and all your messages to him have gone unread, as you’ve also grown used to. “You tell my no-good son if he isn’t back within the hour, he can live the rest of his life without my last name.”

You’re not sure if the implications of that will really sink into the Vice President’s heart enough to trigger the guilt it’s clearly trying to elicit, but you know better than to voice your opinion. You nod once, then bow at a perfect ninety-degree angle. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Four years of this, and he hasn’t learned a single thing,” the President continues, completely ignoring your useless and vaguely insincere apology. “Where’d he run off to this time?”

You don’t know. You never really know. Since he actively tries to avoid all work-related things, he also actively tries to avoid you, something he does by never picking up the phone or telling you the details of his daily schedule anyway. You can only share what you do know, which is very little and, therefore, extremely useless, but you try to say it in a way that appears relatively helpful. “His schedule says he was supposed to have lunch with the foreign investors that are trying to connect Prime Video to the Korean market, but it seems he didn’t show up for that.”

Which essentially translates to: you have no clue. Again, all parties in the room — inclusive of Head Secretary Son, who constantly has to bear witness to the many threats Vice President Na receives via you — know this isn’t your fault, but it doesn’t make the vein that’s about to pop out of the President’s temple any less pronounced, nor does it stop you from bowing and apologizing again when he says “get him back in here before five o’clock or tell him he’ll never be able to step foot in this building again!” even though you know that the threat would probably sound more like a gift than anything else to Vice President Na.

“And you,” the President points a vaguely accusatory finger at you. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise. “If he isn’t back here at that time, you can kiss your job goodbye too. You go ahead and tell him that. Let’s see if Jaemin will finally get off his ass if he knows someone else is going to have to suffer for his behavior.”

The only person who sees your jaw fall open is Head Secretary Son, who’s now leading you away from the President’s desk and towards the door; the President has taken to staring at this huge family picture of himself, his wife, and the Vice President that’s hanging just behind his executive’s chair, all looking considerably happier than anyone in this situation feels. You hear him mutter something that sounds like “where did I go wrong with you, you punk?” before the door shuts close behind you.

“I’d say he doesn’t mean that, but we don’t actually know to what lengths he’ll go to get the Vice President on board.” Head Secretary Son admits, lifting two fingers to gently shut your mouth, still agape. “If I were you, I’d figure out how to keep him on a leash. The fact that he’s never around is probably ninety-percent of our current problems.”

“I can barely get him to respond to schedule reminders,” you groan; your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose like this will somehow stop the oncoming migraine. “Let alone get him to stay still. I was just about to put in a down payment for a car of my own, too.”

You’ve never really been considerably attached to this job, mostly because there isn’t much to actually attach yourself to, but if you think about it now, it really is better than most, and this economy isn’t really kind to people who get fired from their jobs. You feel like puking at the thought of losing the free unlimited coffee in the pantry and trading it in for a life behind a convenience store counter, which is probably where you’ll end up, pessimistically speaking.

You excuse yourself from Head Secretary Son, who has the heart to look a little pitying as you trudge towards the elevator. You don’t even know where you’d start looking for the Vice President, especially since he spends quite a lot of his efforts trying to avoid having to communicate with you. You don’t even know what his habits are, which means you can’t make educated guesses on where he might have run off to, so the only route to go is to look in the immediately surrounding area and widening your search diameter as time passes.

Until five o’clock, of course — a deadline that, if unmet, will likely mean you also won’t be returning to the office either.

You start off at the nearby bookstore, extremely skeptical that the Vice President would ever willingly go to a place that requires more effort even after you make a purchase. As expected, he isn’t there, but he isn’t in the nextdoor candle shop (also unlikely) either, nor do you find him in the hand-cut noodles shop next to that as well. You walk down the entire street for a good twenty minutes, pressing your face against the windows of stores shamelessly, to the ire of many startled and disgruntled staff, trying to look for a familiar head shape in the small crowds in them, but to no avail. Then, you think about calling him again, but when you pat the pockets of your jacket, you realize your phone is still on your desk, where you’d left it when you’d been summoned to see the President. With a loud groan and an annoyed clip clop of your heels as you stamp your feet on the pavement, you walk back to the office.

In your frenzy to find the Vice President, you’d gone quite a distance, and your shoes simply aren’t made for long, aggravated walks; they start hurting your feet halfway back, and you’re pretty sure you have a blister behind the strap of the left one. Pride would tell you to tough it out, but you’d thrown that out at the thought of losing your job at the expense of a single man, so you don’t even hesitate to take them off and run back to the building. The big digital clock above the elevators says you have ten minutes left to find your boss, and you start thinking about using that time for better things — like packing your stuff up neatly in a box for when you get sacked.

With the situation seemingly hopeless, you trudge to the first floor cafe, where the return counter has a pitcher of water and a stack of tiny paper cups. They’re tiny tiny, like the size of your thumb, so you have to keep refilling it just to start feeling a little more human.

You’re on your third refill when you hear a giggle come from across the space. The barista’s just finished laughing at what must have been an extremely hilarious joke, or she might be flirting with whoever’s leaning over the counter to talk to her. A whoever that seems to be the exact same height and build as the elusive Vice President of this company.

You accidentally toss the paper cup in the plastics bin in your desperation to get moving, worried that if you’re not fast enough, he’ll disappear into thin air again. Luckily, his attention’s completely focused on the barista, so he can’t go anywhere when you finally reach his side and huff, loud enough to interrupt what seems like an intimate-ish conversation between them.

“Sorry, I was just — oh, it’s you.” The Vice President’s smile fades when he sees it’s you, someone he can’t charm out of what they’re supposed to be doing. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the Vice President smile at you in any capacity, anyway, except for maybe one or two slightly sarcastic smiles that are probably more fit to be classified as grimaces. “What do you want?”

“I’ve been looking all over for you, sir,” you say, stiffly and a little quietly because you still don’t want to embarrass him in front of the slightly confused barista. “You haven’t answered my texts.”

You don’t have any way to check, but you’re pretty sure this is a safe enough assumption, which is corroborated by the Vice President bringing his phone out and checking the screen lazily before turning it back off.

“Sorry. I don’t answer unknown numbers.”

You guess it makes sense that he wouldn’t want to save your number when he hates hearing about work, which is all you really try to communicate with him about, but it still stings considering it’s been two years and you’ve been using the same number since high school. It’s fine, you think. You really can’t expect much from him.

“Well, your father’s been looking for you, too. He wants to meet you.”

“I’ll take a rain check, but thank you.”

“Sir,” your voice quivers with poorly quelled exasperation. “This isn’t an optional thing. This is very serious.”

“I can see that, Briar Rose,” his eyes are trained towards your shoes, still dangling from your grasp, with a level of unabashed amusement. “Did he summon me from deep within the woods, or is this a new casual Friday look I should get in on?”

When his words are met with a stony silence, he sighs, pushing himself off the counter. His half-finished Americano is collecting a small pool of condensation under it, and you offer him the little handful of tissues you had gotten from the return counter and had originally been planning to use to wipe your tears in case you cried after getting fired so that he doesn’t waste time looking for something to hold his cup. He takes them without even a word of thanks, opting to instead say ‘lead the way, miss.’ You don’t miss the fact that he meets the barista’s eye with a considerably more genuine grin, raising a hand in goodbye to her before he strides ahead — before you even get a chance to lead the way at all — towards the elevators with you, hobbling on one foot to slip your shoe back on, not far behind.

The President’s office must be sort of soundproof for instances like this. For the first time, you’ve been asked to wait outside with Head Secretary Son as the Vice President gets chewed. It doesn’t matter; you don’t really want to be in the middle of yet another round of shouting that has nothing to do with you in the same afternoon, plus you also know how the conversation usually goes: the President making very agitated threats and talking about his heart condition (even though the medical reports from their private doctor say he’s in perfect health) that the Vice President, who just spends the time looking boredly at his nails, will inevitably trigger. When you press your ear to the door for a minute, you actually hear something like ‘... strike you out of the will so that when you kill me, you won’t get a single won!’, and you can imagine Vice President Na’s exasperated sigh punctuating the statement.

Ten minutes later, the room has gone quiet, and you step aside just in time for the Vice President to open the door and step out. You don’t even understand how he can look so unaffected after being ripped apart, but you suppose he’s also heard the lecture as many times as you have and is pretty much immune to all the insults. He doesn’t really have to make a show out of not caring, though, with his hands in his pockets and his lips pursed to allow him to whistle idly as he strolls down the hall to his barely used office. He’s been in it so few times that after long, inexplicable vacations, he sometimes forgets how to get there. You’ve always had to walk behind him just in case he gets lost or, worse, tries to make a run for it. You’ve never had to tackle him to the ground reciting the Miranda warnings, or anything, but he has faked left a few times just to give you a mild heart attack for the fun of it all.

This time, he just walks, not bothering to joke you into trying to create a human wall he could just as easily push away. When he gets to his office, he lazily plops down onto his couch, extracting the Rubik’s cube he’d been working on for a few weeks now from underneath himself and spinning the top layer idly. He’s only ever finished the blue side.

You just stand there, kind of perplexed and unsure of how to start the conversation. He’s still whistling, and you’re not sure if talking over him will count as interrupting him, which isn’t something you’re supposed to do. Thankfully, he stops after about two minutes of fiddling with the yellow side of the cube, looking up at you with a slightly surprised expression that somehow makes you want to cry.

“Can I help you with something, Secretary ___________?”

“Well, I…” You stutter for a bit, unsure of how to politely point out that he should be asking you for help with his job instead of the whole other way around. “Because… I just thought…”

“You can always leave a message with my secretary if you need time to figure it out.” He grins. “Oh, wait a minute.”

“Sir, don’t you think you should… I don’t know. Figure out your schedule, or something? Prepare for… anything?”

“What’s that smell?” He lifts his nose to the air, suddenly curious, and because he looks so serious, you also start sniffing, but you can’t really smell anything out of the ordinary. “Smells… fresh. Very clean. A little like green tea.”

“Oh.” You awkwardly shift your weight from leg to leg. “I think that’s my perfume, but I don’t see w—”

“You smell very expensive, Secretary _____________.” He sounds genuinely surprised that you do, like he’s somehow saying he hadn’t expected you to have good taste. You have no idea where this conversation is coming from, so you chalk it up to him wanting to derail you from talking about work. “I like it. Very classy. Not too strong.”

“Sir, I don’t think now’s the time to be talking about perfume scents.”

“You’re actually quite pretty.” He sounds genuinely surprised again, but this time, it stings a little more. “I never noticed that before. How come?”

You want to say that it’s because he spends most of his time and energy playing long-term hide-and-seek with you, but there’s also no polite way of putting that into words; even if there were, with the way you’re now bristling under his gaze, you’re not really sure you’d go the courteous route, anyway. You just decide to ignore the comment and question entirely, which you almost get to do.

“Wouldn’t you like to take a look at some of our upcoming projects? For instance, we’re just about to start negotiating the terms of this new partnership with Huawei —”

“You’re pretty, but you’re also pretty tense.” He cuts you off again, now looking a little dejected at this newfound information. You can’t understand why this disappointment in you actually hurts your feelings a little. “I think the cafe downstairs serves some tea, if that kind of stuff helps you.”

“Sir,” the one syllable is laced with weariness, and you knot your fingers together in front of your lap. It probably looks polite, but it’s mostly so that you can feel like you have some semblance of control over anything, even if it’s just your own body fighting off the urge to grab him by the collar. “Please. If you could just take a look at your schedule — even just for tomorrow —”

“What’s the point?” His shrug is nonchalant, and he’s turning the cube over in his palm now, more interested in looking at it than witnessing your tired expression. “It’s almost six o’clock. I’ll deal with tomorrow tomorrow, you know what I mean? If my dad finally loses his marbles, I’ll deal with it all then. In fact, I might actually be okay with losing this department if it finally actually gets him off my back. I’ll also deal with that when it happens, probably.”

Another long, uncomfortable silence blooms as his words sink in; not for the first time today, President Na has threatened the existence of your job, now alongside a good twenty other people’s, all for the sake of snapping some sense into the Vice President. However, like everything else, it seems to just be backfiring; Vice President Na doesn’t seem to care about anyone else in this department, most likely because he’s barely interacted with anyone else. You’re surprised he even remembers your last name, considering he once called the department accountant ‘Heejin’ even though her nametag clearly spelled out ‘Jinhee.’

It makes sense that the threat of abolishment means absolutely nothing to him, but it doesn’t make the knowledge of that any less distressing. He watches you curiously as you tug back at your ponytail, like it’ll once again stop the crawling migraine.

“Sure a cup of chamomile tea isn’t in the cards today? I think I have the company card in here somewhere, although I can’t be sure that it hasn’t been cut off, based on my dad’s last threat—”

“I’m fine; thank you.” You mumble, checking the clock. He’s wasted what’s left of the hour anyway, and the lack of change in his position just means he’s not going to change his mind for the rest of the time. “At least let me give you tomorrow’s agenda.”

“Boring, but okay. Give it to me, then.” He yawns to make a point, and you offer him the tablet you tote around with you everywhere you go, just in case Vice President Na finally decides he wants to do his job. To clarify: that’s two whole years of you carrying that heavy thing around, with the Vice President only having touched it a handful of times. You’re mildly shocked that he actually opens it to check, because he barely does even that, but that all goes away when he yawns again, his expression glassy as he scrolls down aimlessly. “This is a lot. Can’t you just clear my schedules tomorrow? Actually, if I can make demands for real, I’d like to clear out my schedule for the rest of the year.”

He stretches when he stands, ignoring your slightly agog expression as he pats you on the back, smacking his lips sleepily. “Good day’s work, Secretary _____________. Want to grab a beer? Have ourselves a little intra-department party? I’m pretty sure ‘intra’ stands for ‘us two,’ or am I wrong?”

You sincerely hope he doesn’t mean a goodbye party, but with his attitude right now, that might very well be. You shake your head, and he shrugs, like he wasn’t really expecting you to agree in the first place. “No thank you, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He’s already halfway out the door, waving dismissively with his back turned to you. When you peek out of the space he leaves by opening the door, you can see about half the entire department’s watching, not even bothering to pretend to scurry back to their seats as he saunters out of the office. He calls out to you, his voice ringing clear even though he’s already out of sight.

“We’ll see about that.”

You come up with a master plan, but not before you scope potential jobs.

You actually stayed an hour overtime at your desk looking for positions, but all of them pay lower than average or are about an hour’s commute away from where you live, so none of them seem worth it. The search ends when some people from the department come over to say goodbye and see your computer open to SaramIn, at which point they connect the dots and start to panic about their insurance. You shut your monitor off and spend another useless twenty minutes calming Jinhee, who’d started having a mild panic attack.

In that time, your resentment builds. Why can’t Vice President Na simply get his act together? You suppose that there’s some indescribable burden to being in his position, but between him, a rich heir who owns two sports cars and lives in a paid-for house, and you, a public-transport-using, pays-by-the-month nine-to-five worker, you can’t really understand why he would be having it worse than everyone else who works under him. If he worked even just half as hard as everyone else did here, he might scrape by.

You can’t know if President Na’s anger was only short-lived or if he actually meant to downsize the company by getting rid of your department entirely, but you also know that if he’s serious, then there’s nothing much you can do about it, short of terrorizing the Vice President into stepping into bigger shoes.

So, that becomes your master plan.

It isn’t very refined, mostly because you think about it on the bus home, but the heart and spirit are there, and those are probably the most important things anyway. It’s that heart and spirit that motivate you to get up an hour earlier than you usually do, dressing quickly for the day before taking the company car from your place to downtown Apgujeong. You usually don’t take it on days that Vice President Na doesn’t come into work, which is practically every other day, but this time, you’re determined to see him into the office. The ride with Hyunsung, his official company driver, is quiet, save for the question he asks when you roll up to the Vice President’s driveway.

“Are you sure about this?”

“No,” you admit. He’d probably seen you chewing down on your thumb, some of your confidence taking a hit when you belatedly realize you could be shot with a huge privacy lawsuit if this doesn’t go the way you plan. But you do know a lot of secretaries that do the morning calls for their superiors, so this should be fine. Not that you’ve ever heard from those secretaries ever again.

Vice President Na’s laziness seems to extend to all aspects of his life, including the fact that he doesn’t ever change his door’s passcode; it’s still the same numbers as it had been when he first bought the house a year ago and had you install his lock while he was missing in action from work, yakking it up with some farmers up in the Netherlands. He likes to do that — ‘see the world,’ or whatever, even though his wanderlust makes everyone else’s lives very difficult. At least it makes your life easy now, and you step through the door and walk quietly across his unnecessarily large living room.

You’ve never been in here exactly, and you only realize very belatedly that this house’s design would be very frustrating for a break-and-enter criminal because nothing seems to be where it’s supposed to be. You learn the owner’s suite is actually on the basement floor, so all the climbing of those slippery stairs was for nothing.

Vice President Na’s bedroom is bigger than your whole apartment, which also means he has a sizable bed and, thus, is completely out of sight under his gigantic covers. The only indication that he’s even still in there is that they’re rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern. You stand by the edge of the bed, on the side he’s closest to falling off of, clearing your throat at the tuft of hair peeking out from under the comforter.

“Vice President Na? It’s time to go to work.”

Your voice has been tempered down by years of this professional work, and this is easily the loudest and most demanding you’ve ever heard it. You’re not even sure you can do it again, but the muffled groan from under the covers is all the motivation you need to try.

“Sir, you have a ten o’clock meeting with Samsung’s representatives for Apple. President Na also asked that we contact Amazon right away to reschedule the Prime Video deal.”

“How,” his voice comes out first before he does, squinting up at you, completely disoriented. “The hell did you get in here?”

“Sir, I’m your secretary.” You sigh, skimming over the fact that you’d walked into his big kitchen twice through two different entryways before coming into his bedroom. “I’m supposed to be able to get in here.”

“Except this is a first.” You think he’s about to get up, but he just shifts his weight, rolling over so he can cocoon himself tighter into his blankets. “Goodnight. There are eggs in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

“I’ve already eaten, like a normal, functioning human being with a very important job that starts precisely at nine o’clock would.”

“This seems like a very targeted comment, Secretary ____________. I’m not sure I appreciate it.”

“Since we’re already having this conversation, I’m guessing you’re conscious enough to get dressed.”

To your relief, he actually does throw the covers off of him, leaning up on his elbows. You try not to balk at the fact that he’s shirtless, although you’re also not sure why this should surprise or bother you to begin with. He doesn’t even seem to mind; he just yawns, wide and unashamed, as he looks over at the clock.

“It’s seven-thirty. This is insanity.”

“No, this is a wake-up call.” You offer him a neatly folded towel that he eyes suspiciously. “We need to get you in the office on time.”

“There’s really no point,” he sighs, scratching his head idly. “It’ll just be another boring day of talking to people I don’t care about. Someone who cares about it should talk to them. You care about it, don’t you?”

“I won’t talk to them for you, sir.”

“Why not?”

“Because, frankly, I don’t get paid enough to be doing that.”

He once again stares at the towel like he’s trying to will it to evaporate, but in the end, he only sighs louder and takes it from you, kicking his blankets off completely. You look up at the ceiling, not in prayer but to avoid the more embarrassing fact that he’s only in his boxers after all. Well — it’s embarrassing for you. He doesn’t even seem to care.

“Something’s different.”

“Usually I don’t wake you up,” you offer the painfully obvious. “Or come here. Or talk to you.”

“Yeah, all that stuff,” he says dismissively, halfway through a yawn. “Did you have a life-changing experience recently?”

“Something like that.”

“Couldn’t it have been one where you decided to leave me alone for good instead?” He grumbles, more to himself instead of to you. It doesn’t matter, anyway; you already see he’s up and fishing socks out of his drawer, so you’re marching out of his room to avoid having to hear more of his complaints (and, quite frankly, to avoid looking at his broad back).

However, the day thereafter doesn’t go as planned. You thought that waking Vice President Na up for an early day of work might shock him into doing something with the knowledge that it was urgent, but you’re not sure why you didn’t anticipate a scenario in which he’d fall asleep in the car on the way to work and you’d have to shake him into waking in the stuffy parking lot. He spends the rest of the morning out of sorts, ignoring you point blank when you try to brief him on the meeting. The meeting in and of itself doesn’t go any better, with him excusing himself fifteen minutes in by saying the pitch doesn’t seem all too exciting and innovative. You didn’t even know he knew the word innovative and, by the shocked faces of the Samsung people, they were of the same mind.

By lunch time, you’re more exhausted than you’ve ever been, and a part of you is wondering why you wanted Vice President Na in the office in the first place when you’re already used to the much simpler routine of get up, work, eat lunch, get yelled at, work again. Sometimes, on slow days when Vice President Na is completely out of town for the week and President Na is out of things to yell at you about, you even get to just sit back at your desk and play old crossword puzzles.

Now, you’re basically handholding him, but the weight that keeps him down is so heavy that you’re being dragged down, too.

“You mean people do this every single day?” He shuts the folder with a contract that requires his signature that you’d given him just now, not even bothering to peruse the first page, much to your rapidly increasing ire. “This is ridiculous. Working makes no sense.”

“All employees come to work to do that, sir. It’s literally what makes up half their lives.”

“Except it shouldn’t,” he sighs, like this is a true global issue and not a problem of his own making. “Everyone needs to be able to do what they want and live life to the fullest.”

“Not everyone can,” you point out flatly. “Some people don’t have the luxury of time even for that.”

“Then, they should. The more I’m in this situation, the more it feels like it might be better for everyone to have a little work break for — I don’t know. The next year or so.”

Vice President Na has his arm outstretched, handing the folder back to you. You don’t know if it’s what he says that causes your blood pressure to rise, or if its the completely unconcerned look on his face, or if it’s the fact that he’s holding the folder so lazily that the papers are starting to slip out on your end, requiring you to use two hands to keep them all from falling apart and creating a mess you’ll end up having to clean up anyway. Whatever it is, you snatch the folder from him with a little more aggression than necessary (or that you’d even care to admit). Even though it’s out of place, you can’t help but feel a small sense of triumph at the slight surprise in his eyes.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No, sir.” You pause, mostly because you can tell he doesn’t believe you — Vice President Na is nonchalant, not stupid — and you want to give yourself a little bit of time to grapple with your pride before you admit the truth. “Yes, sir. It isn’t fair to your entire department for you to talk that way.”

“I’m saying the entire department doesn’t have to work this hard. It’s senseless. How are you supposed to live a good life if all you’re doing is sitting behind a desk?”

“Like I said, not everyone has the luxury of living your life. If they want even a little bit of that comfort you enjoy, they have to work very hard for it first.”

“Then they should at least do something they enjoy. If this department goes down the drain —”

“If this department is abolished,” this is your first time interrupting a superior, and it already makes you want to throw up. “Then people will have a very difficult time finding a job in this market. More than that, a lot of people enjoy working for this company — quite genuinely, in fact. I don’t think it’s right to think that they’ll be happy while they’re jobless and floundering in this economy.”

“So you’re happy like this? You really want this job — this whole working under me situation?”

“Well…” you trail off, your voice taking on a slightly thoughtful tone. It’s been a relatively long time since you’d entered this job, but you do faintly remember the feeling of excitement at getting this position — the desire to want to learn from the best in this industry, the anticipation of being able to meet and network with interesting and important people. Your first few weeks of work had involved wanting to spend as much time in Vice President Na’s shadow, in case you could pick up some important business tidbits from an entrepreneurial master… until, of course, you realized there wasn’t much you could stand in the shadow of to begin with. “These days, it isn’t ideal. But this job is a really good thing for most of the people who work here.”

“Then it sounds like you have more to gain from me working hard than I do.”

You can’t contain your disapproving frown, and your voice comes out a little sharper than you intend. “Doesn’t it bother you at all, sir? Knowing almost twenty people could lose their jobs in the blink of an eye? Think about all the people who look up to you and rely on you — they’ll have to suffer because of this. They might never find a job that matches their needs, and a lot of them have families to take care of, too. If you can do something to make sure they have these good lives you keep talking about, why not do it? I know you’re capable of that. You’re capable of doing much more than what you’ve been doing thus far.”

Vice President Na is quiet for a moment before leans over on his desk, lacing his fingers into a loose combined fist and putting his weight on his forearms. One of his forefingers detangles itself from the pile of digits and curls inwards, beckoning you closer. Your grimace is probably obvious, and you lean in a little warily. He lifts himself off his chair slightly so he can whisper in a low voice, as if you two aren’t the only people in this wide office.

“If you care about it so much, then ask a little more nicely.”

Your light breakfast almost makes a reappearance, and you draw back in mild shock. He also leans back, significantly more relaxed than you, looking unperturbed as he settles back against his chair. You two engage in a very uneven staring match, until he gestures for you to proceed, looking expectant.

“You want me to beg for my job?”

“Not what I meant, but I could accept that,” he hums. “I just think you could throw in a please while you’re guilting your boss, at least.”

Gawking probably doesn’t suit you, but you do it anyway, wondering how you managed to find yourself in this position. This morning, you had been strictly guiding him through what to do, and now you’re paralyzed in front of the Vice President, feeling very foolish for saying so much out of turn. You couldn’t even get through a whole work day before seeing your grand master plan slip down the drain.

But there is, at least, some small comfort in what he said — the part about guilting, which, if you squint hard enough, seems to be implying that this conversation has left him with a small amount of guilt. You don’t think it’s that much, but it’s a miracle he feels it at all, so you take the horribly subtle win and inhale deeply.

“Please, sir.” The words are very thick and reluctant, unsticking from your throat. “This department really needs you.”

He stares, very unnervingly, without saying anything, but there’s something in his gaze that makes you vaguely certain he’s actually thinking about it. In fact, he actually looks a bit serious, which isn’t anything you’d ever think you’d be able to characterize him by. That impression easily falls apart when he claps his hands, once but very loudly, startling you into jumping a little.

“Ah, how could I turn down such a nice request?” Vice President Na is grinning from ear to ear, something you’ve never seen him do in the context of the office, much less a few feet away from you. His smile is actually kind of nice, if you don’t think about the fact that it seems to be smug at your expense. “Since you asked, I guess I’ll have to try my best, or whatever it is people do in this damn company. I guess that means you owe me now, Secretary ____________. You’re very welcome.”

The silence that once again blooms as you stand, motionless, in front of Vice President Na is suddenly interrupted by the sound of chairs scraping back all at once. The floor vibrates a little as the entire department troops out to the elevator area so they can go to lunch. You only watch stupidly as he also stands, shrugging off his jacket and flinging it over the back of his chair. “See you, then.”

“Where are you going, sir?”

He looks a little surprised that you even ask. “To lunch. Do I have to ask for your permission for that, too?”

“Are you… coming back?”

“You want to come along with me and make sure I don’t run away?” He smiles even wider, which you didn’t even think was possible. It makes you awkwardly uncomfortable to know he’s taking a lot of pleasure in joking around with you, mostly because you were kind of hoping you’d get him to take things seriously in a serious manner, not in a … whatever this is that’s making you feel like you’ve lost a game manner.

“A little bit.”

“Ask a little more nicely, then.”

“Never mind,” you mumble. “Have a good lunch, sir.”

He snaps his fingers a little comically before turning to the door, flinging it open so he can join the now thinning throng of people leaving the floor. “Thought I almost had you there. Well, if you need me, you know where to find me. Or not.”

In the end, to your utmost relief, Vice President Na does, in fact, stay inside the entire time he has lunch. You’re not sure if this is the product of you sitting two tables away, trying to will an imaginary chain to his wrist so he doesn’t bolt off or because he’s still feeling a little affected by everything you said earlier on, but whatever it is, it works. He just eats his club sandwich in peace, picking off the crust easily and double dipping the fries that come with it in his ketchup. At some point, he looks up and notices you burning holes into his torso, so you quickly have to avert your eyes in shame. You think he laughs at this, but you can only see out of your peripheral vision at this point, so you can’t be sure.

You’re supposed to have one hour for lunch, but he eats quickly and gets up before the whole hour is over, so you end up throwing your half-eaten wrap and following him. Again, you’re not sure what’s funny, but he’s chuckling to himself as he holds the elevator door open, waiting for you to run in next to him.

“Relax, miss secretary. I already said I was going to do my best.”

“No offense, sir, but I don’t know what that looks like, so I have to be careful.”

“Fair enough.” He hums, letting the door close on its own. “But you should still take it easy. You’re pretty t—”

“Tense. You said so yesterday, sir.”

“That’s two times you’ve cut me off in a single day.” He doesn’t sound very annoyed about it; in fact, he’s still got that amused, inside joke tone to everything he’s had all morning. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were gunning for an insubordination report.”

You don’t think that’s fair for him to say, especially since you haven’t really had much of an authority figure to be subordinate to for most of your career in this company, but you keep your mouth shut since saying so is exactly what would be on the first line of an insubordination report.

When you arrive back at his office, you take the time to discuss what you should be doing from now on. It’s an extremely messy exchange, with you two grappling between terms you can’t agree on. For instance, Vice President Na thinks that it seems only fair that he should really only be coming in after one o’clock, but you’re insistent on making sure he gets to work on time, since most important meetings happen within that time period (a fact he already seems to know but chooses to ignore anyway). You end up agreeing on bringing him in for the standard nine-to-six for as long as he never has to work overtime. You also find it necessary to iron out the fact that if he has lunch outside, he has to actually come back, a statement he once again finds very amusing for some reason, as if you’re the weird one in this conversation.

And to his credit, he tries to stick to his word. It isn’t exactly a walk in the park, especially not during the first couple of weeks, but you suppose that habits are very difficult to break when they’ve been so easy to acquire and nurture over many years. More than once, you’ve arrived late to meetings to the disapproving gazes of Head Secretary Son and President Na. However, the latter finds he has less to say these days because Vice President Na’s presence in said meetings had, before this time, been nothing but a pipe dream for everyone.

You also notice he starts taking the time to ask about things he doesn’t understand, as opposed to his initially brash or sometimes completely unresponsive approach, which has turned out better results when it comes to business lunches with investors and potential partners. Even the Samsung people, who are extremely wary of him during the callback meeting, come out of their next encounter with the Vice President looking vaguely more satisfied than they did the last time (the bar isn’t that high, considering they’d left shell-shocked previously, but you’ll still take the improvement).

Of course, with all the time you end up spending with, chasing after, and vaguely lecturing (only when the need truly arises) Vice President Na, you also learn some things about him that you hadn’t expected, like how he doesn’t really like milk in anything he drinks (but especially coffee) and that every third Sunday of the month, he meets his old high school friend Lee Jeno, the son of the guy that owns half the residential high rise condominiums on this side of the Han. Apparently, they play badminton together — he had told you that when he’d caught you wondering about the super out of place little kid’s karate trophy among other more adult, official ones in his living area. The trophy goes to whoever wins the match of the month, and according to the Vice President, he’s been ‘wiping the floor with that bastard’s handsome face for half a year straight.’ Although you can’t verify this by anything more than the slight blanket of dust on it, you think it takes nothing out of your pride to applaud him like this is an amazing thing. It also does you no harm to see him swell with misplaced pride about a kid’s karate trophy.

You also notice that despite how healthily he eats at the office, he has a bad habit of craving deep fried food in the afternoon, which is why, over the last few weeks, you’ve been accompanying him to the corndog street stall two blocks away, a few days a week. He’s even had to borrow loose change from you a few times to because he always forgets that no street vendor likes to receive crisp, fresh-out-of-the-bank fifty-thousand won bills, but you just let him have it; his heart’s in the right place when he orders an extra one for you without even asking. You realize that he has a fairly good memory for as long as he’s concentrating, and that he likes to spend late nights watching the shittiest horror movies ever known to man (his words, much to your bemusement), and that when he listens attentively to you telling him about the day’s agenda, his left ear twitches a little when your voice hits it.

Somewhere along the way, you realize that Vice President Na is a charming, outgoing, and fairly capable person, and in doing so, you also realize that he seems to be, for lack of a better word, your style.

You can’t really believe it either, and you’re not even sure when it started. In between sitting with him in the company car and handing him forty-page agreements he has to look over carefully (very carefully, as you’ve taken to reminding him, so often that he starts saying it before you do now, which has only somehow endeared him further to you and not annoyed you the way you were sort of hoping it would), the small non-work related part of your consciousness had decided that it needed a more complicated situation now that things were going relatively well.

To be fair to yourself, liking him isn’t a huge distraction; most of the time, you’re both so engrossed in something you desperately have to finish that you don’t even have time to think about it. Instead, it kind of catches you off-guard, like when he’s double dipping his french fries into his ketchup, or when he smiles at you (politely to him, probably, but overwhelmingly charmingly to you) before he leaves the office, or when his brow’s furrowed in (a total shocker) concentration as he reads.

Then again, everything about Vice President Na seems to be catching you off-guard these days. This much is proven by the fact that instead of the normal silence that you’ve grown accustomed to being greeted by when you enter his house, there’s a lot of noise coming from one area that can only mean either that someone had broken in to mug him or for some reason, he’s up before you need to wake him.

It’s nothing you have to call 911 for, but it still paralyzes you to see him, surrounded by opened jars and a particularly dirty bread knife as he stands in front of his fancy toaster, drumming his fingers on the counter impatiently.

“If you have a minute to spare, could you bring my laptop into the car?” He asks without turning around. His hand, still holding the bread knife, points towards the bar counter on the far end of the kitchen, where the laptop is still whirring away.

“Of course, sir. Um,” you gingerly shut the monitor, putting the laptop to sleep and tucking it under your arm. “Were you… working this morning?”

“No, I was playing a riveting game of bridge against the computer AI.” He turns to you, grinning. “Of course I was working, miss secretary. What do you think I’d be up this early for?”

You try to think of an answer, but nothing comes to mind — Vice President Na hasn’t ever woken up early for anything to your knowledge, anyway — so you just nod and bolt, unwilling to bear witness to his smile this early in the day. When you come back, particularly less red in the face, you find him topping one of two sandwiches with the last slice of bread to complete it. He takes one, as you expect he would, and you stand there, trying to look polite as you essentially observe him eat.

This isn’t something very unusual; ever since the first time you’d done it, you’ve been watching him out of habit. So far, only the motivation’s changed from you wanting to make sure he doesn’t bolt to you simply enjoying the view of his profile when he eats. Of course, he probably doesn’t know this, but he’s also just gotten used to you watching him and probably finds it funny — as suggested by his perpetually amused expression — that you still think, after all this time, that he’s going to make a run for it. You don’t actually mind it; you get to watch him for free, and he has something to laugh about, so everyone kind of wins.

He’s halfway through the sandwich when his expression turns quizzical. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Eat,” you echo hollowly. “Eat what, sir?”

“A delicious, handmade, gourmet peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich.” When you don’t move, he pushes the plate with the untouched sandwich forward towards you like he thinks you can’t understand anything he’s saying. “What? Are you allergic to something?”

“No, but…”

“But?”

There’s no but; you don’t have a good reason to decline other than the fact that accepting it feels weird, but refusing him when he’s looking at you this expectantly is just as awkward. You rub the back of your neck as you walk over, not missing the look of triumph that crosses his face as you pick up the sandwich and take a bite. It’s good, but you don’t really think that has anything to do with his culinary skills, based on what it is; still, he looks like he’s patting himself on the back for this feat.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Secretary ____________, I hope you can count this as a momentous occasion for the both of us.” He chuckles. “You get free breakfast made especially for you by your direct superior in the comfort of his own home, and I finally get to learn what all the settings on my toaster are for. Between you and me, I think mine’s the better achievement.”

You’re still in the middle of eating when you laugh, and you hastily raise a hand to cover it — only Vice President Na catches your wrist halfway through, so quickly you vaguely choke on the bread that’s only partially down your throat.

“I’ve never seen you laugh,” he looks as surprised as you feel, although probably for a different reason. “I don’t even think you’ve ever smiled at me, specifically.”

“Oh.” You need time to respond, mostly so you can swallow but also because you need to collect yourself from your shock. There seems to be a lot of that going around this morning. “Sorry. Should I do that more often?”

“I mean, if you ask like that, it’s kind of disingenuous,” he laughs. “But I like it. I like knowing you’re not just in a constant state of stress because of me. Feels even more momentous than the toaster thing.”

He loosens his hold, and you manage to take your hand back, now refusing to meet his eye. “I’m not… stressed by you.”

“Not anymore.”

“Not anymore,” you agree, and he looks particularly delighted when he sees the corners of your lips turn up again. “Not for a while. And not that my opinion matters, but you’ve been performing above expectations, sir.”

“You’re right,” he hums, taking the plate and putting it in the sink — a problem he seems to be saving for later. “It doesn't matter. But I like it, all the same.”

You’re willing to chalk the morning off as a wonderful anomaly, especially since the rest of it passes as it normally does, with a generally quiet car ride (you’ve also learned that Vice President Na likes to listen to rap music on days when he wants to avoid falling asleep in the backseat, which is equal parts amazing and amusing) and a fifteen minute briefing of what he has on his plate today. He disappears for the better part of the morning and even the whole lunch hour, but you expect this because he has a business lunch with the representatives for some Norwegian appliance company that’s looking to break into the Korean market. You can’t imagine many people want a state of the art rice cooker alongside their monthly internet bill, but it’s polite for him to go anyway, and the prospective partner seems very on edge about company secrets. It’s one of those meetings you aren’t allowed to come along to, which means that you’re missing out on a few hours of Vice President Na trying to iron details out with a couple of old guys.

While you eat, you’re once again struck with the random notion that it feels weird not to be around the Vice President. You’ve been working together regularly and in a very close capacity, which basically means that you’re always in his shadow. It’s the life you were kind of hoping to have at the beginning and were deprived of for a good two years. Now that you have it, it feels weirdly natural — so natural that it’s unnatural to not have his voice ordering you around in that easy tone or his aftershave lingering in the air directly above you.

You throw the tissue you used to wipe the oil from your egg toast off your mouth onto the table, crumpled and wilted.

You miss him, which is ridiculous considering you don’t even know what there is to miss. Your relationship, while admittedly lightyears ahead of the starting point it had been at back then (again, not a great standard, considering you didn’t even have a relationship before this period of time), is nothing close to the point of being what it should be for one to miss the other.

And yet, you look forward to seeing him, watching him do something from afar, helping him whenever he needs you. You like the fact that he still sometimes fakes left when you’re accompanying him back to his office, and you do this thing where you pretend to be annoyed even though it makes you happy to know he won’t go anywhere. You like the little sounds he makes when he eats his super unhealthy corndog as if he’s eating it for the first time every single time (see: very unnerving and slightly disturbing but altogether amusing mmmmmmmmmms). In fact, if you didn’t have a vivid memory of telling him off from way back then, you feel like you could easily convince yourself that things had always been like this — that you two had always been together, happily at work.

You’re not surprised that he isn’t back from his meeting even when you get back to your desk after lunch, but you do feel a pang of dejectedness that lasts for a few more hours — time which you spend lazily looking over a contract he’d signed yesterday that needs a fair amount of amending and re-signing. It’s hard to pretend to care today, for some reason, especially since your mind keeps going back to peanut butter sandwiches and some ridiculous vision of Vice President Na standing in the middle of your tiny studio apartment’s kitchen area.

Your reverie’s broken when an envelope falls onto your desk, covering the page of the contract you’d been glassily staring at for the last hour and a half. You’d drawn the same circle about twenty times already, and the paper’s all dented from your efforts. When you look up, Vice President Na is staring down at you, grinning from ear to ear.

“Miss me?” He drums the envelope, the paper muffling the noise of it all. “Oh? I was joking, but it looks like you actually did. That’s twice in a single day, Secretary ____________. You’re setting a very high record.”

You try to tamp down the smile on your face upon seeing him, clearing your throat so that you have an excuse to press your lips together. You guess it doesn’t work because he just keeps smiling, anyway, or maybe he’s just in a really good mood. “Did your meeting go well, sir?”

“Is Lotteria the national fastfood chain? Too bad I don’t work for anyone because it kind of feels like I deserve some kind of reward.”

“Could we say that this partnership is its own reward?”

“It doesn’t have the same ring to it,” he sighs. Once again, his forefinger taps the envelope, calling your attention a little more clearly to it. “I know we’re on a tight schedule for this, and I hate to ask this so late of you, but —”

“Of course, sir; I’ll have it in your hands first thing tomorrow.”

You’re already gathering it up along with your other (vaguely unfinished) paperwork when his whole palm comes down, trapping the envelope and everything else you’d been intending to carry under it. Your hands go up like you’re being held at gunpoint, your eyes wide.

“On second thought,” Vice President Na muses, a little too serene for someone who’d just scared the living daylights out of someone else. “How about I take care of the Samsung deal you’re looking over, and you can handle the Norwegian contract?”

“I haven’t… really made a lot of headway with it, if I’m being honest.” You’re hoping he doesn’t ask you why because you’re too embarrassed to come up with a lie on the spot and will inevitably have to confess your random attraction to him under these terrible circumstances if he does. Luckily, he just shrugs.

“All the more reason to split the work, then.”

The still mildly stern part of you is begging to point out that he’s giving you a whole new set of documents to look over anyway, so it’s not even like you’ll have less to do, but the larger, more endeared part of you tells it to shut up and mind its own business. “I thought the crux of our agreement was that you’d never have to work overtime.”

“Because I look like such a stickler for the rules, don’t I?” He snorts, waving you in with the same envelope, and you concede.

Working next to Vice President Na isn’t anything new to you; you’ve been doing it everyday for a while now, especially if he needs you to be quick on call. Ever since you’ve realized his presence makes your heart beat a little faster, you’ve promised yourself not to let that fact show at all when he’s around, something you’ve been quite careful about perfecting.

Something’s different, though, when it’s after official hours. Maybe it’s because the floor is quieter than it is during the day, so there’s nothing you can listen to but the sound of pen scratching on paper and Vice President Na’s steady breathing. The only real interruption is when Hyunsung knocks on the door to ask if the Vice President is going home; the look on his face is panicked and confused, like a puppy that’s just been dropped off at the mouth of a dumpster site, when he’s told that Vice President Na will drive himself home, so he can just leave the keys.

Maybe it’s also because it’s pretty dark outside, and while you’ve worked into the night a few times, it’s usually alone or with some other poor sap that has even more backlog than you do — it’s never been just you and the Vice President, who seems supremely unperturbed by the fact that he isn’t at home doing… whatever he does at home after work. You can only guess at it (or wish you knew).

That makes one of you that’s keeping busy, although you know it should be two. The fact that you’re distracted by his presence all of a sudden is only exacerbated by the mutually exclusive headache that the paperwork you’re looking over gives you. You don’t know why you had expected it to be in Korean, but you and your intermediate level English struggle to keep up with all the little things you have to look through. Sometimes, you can’t tell if the clauses are actually confusing or if you’re just the poor product of your middle school education. It strikes you more than once that Vice President Na had gone through this, somehow, himself — talked to people in a completely different language, probably with ease. You can at least be proud of yourself for being right: for as long as the Vice President puts his mind to something, he’s able to do it — perhaps even well.

What shocks you after an eternity of silence is the hand that extends towards you, forefinger lightly nudging your chin. You sit up straight like a bolt of lighting had gone through you, meeting Vice President Na’s thoroughly and inexplicably amused expression. Your jaw slackens in shock, but his finger just stays there, like it isn’t invading your personal space. Like it just belongs there.

“What are you doing?”

“What—” you splutter, bemused at the fact that you hadn’t asked the question first. “What are you doing?”

“You keep moving your mouth. What — are you praying or something?”

“No, I —-” You gesture at the contract page you’ve been trying to stumble through for the past twenty minutes. “No, I’m just… I’m reading?”

“You’re…” The start of a laugh escapes him, and you really don’t know what’s so funny. “You’re reading aloud?”

“I wasn’t making any noise, I think,” you grumble, sounding a little more defensive than you’d care to admit.

“You read silently aloud, then.” His eyes twinkle at this information, although why it should elicit this reaction also completely escapes you. “Why? Because it helps you memorize it or something?”

“My English isn’t that great,” you admit begrudgingly, suddenly feeling a little exposed. “Sometimes I need to mouth the words to understand it.”

And he does the most outrageous, inexplicable thing: he gently cups your chin, making sure you can’t turn your head to look away in embarrassment. Now you have to look at him, red in the face and close to exploding.

“Don’t you think that’s a little too much, miss secretary?”

You can’t ask what; your voice isn’t working. You just open and close your mouth around the syllable, and after a couple of attempts, he starts copying you, evidently having a better time than you are based on the grin stretched across his face.

“What? What? That you’re doing something this cute in front of me is what I mean. You’re obviously going overboard, and I don’t think it’s very nice.”

He retracts his hand as quickly as he’d used it to close the distance between you, and your hand immediately comes up in its place, almost cupping your jaw like he did. It definitely doesn’t give you the same tingly feeling, so that’s an obvious bust.

You and Vice President Na have a sudden staring contest with amended rules: you blink a hundred times a minute at him while he laughs quietly, leaning back on his chair like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It confuses you and kind of enrages you, but you also find your heart thumping away in your ears like it’s trying very hard to remind you that Na Jaemin makes you feel alive.

“I— I just—”

“Coffee? I could use some coffee. You look like you could use some too.” He stands, buttoning his blazer with one hand like he has someplace important to go. You’re still so shell-shocked that you don’t even try to stand up to help him, a fact which he notices very clearly. “Oh no, I’ll do you this favor. You sit tight and read your contract. I’ll be back. Keep doing that cute thing with your mouth.”

Vice President Na finds you exactly as he left you: still wondering if you should be offended at his teasing or enamored by his touch and, more importantly, what the hell his deal is. You have a million questions that need answering, but the only thing you blubber out when he comes back is “Why?”

“Because you’re amazingly fun to tease,” he responds simply. “And because it’s true. I find it extremely cute. I find you very cute, Secretary _____________, in a kind of good girl, cool girl kind of way. It’s a little confusing to me too, but I think this slightly stern but overall gentle aesthetic of yours is actually growing on me a little.”

“Sir, I—”

“While we’re taking a break,” he interrupts you. You guess it’s probably the right time for a break considering there’s no way you can work in peace now. “Do you constantly have to call me that?”

“What else would I call you?”

“My name,” he suggests, taking a sip of coffee. You ignore the shit, that’s hot that comes out of him as he puts the paper cup down gingerly on his desk, looking a little bit betrayed by his drink. “Jaemin. Many people call me that.”

“People who are close to you, you mean. Like your family or… your friends.”

“Are you saying you don’t think we’re close? Or that we aren’t friends?”

“Sir, I work for you.”

“So by that alone, we simply can’t be friends? Et al?I think you really are being too much now, Secretary ____________.” He folds his arms across his chest, tutting disapprovingly as he leans back on the edge of his desk. You try not to think too hard about the fact that he does it very close to you, at an angle optimal for viewing the leanness of his form. “After all those times you broke into my house—”

“To get you ready for work.”

“— walked into my bedroom—”

“Only whenever necessary—”

“— gone through my things while I’m half naked in bed like you’re trying to organize a charity drive—”

“Because you need to get dressed, not because I have some perverted agenda —”

“—eaten the food off my kitchen counter, too—”

“You told me to!” You get to your feet, the contract slipping from your lap in your enthusiasm to defend yourself. “You offered it to me!”

Whatever happens next is completely out of your control, and you know this because the room spins without you moving by your own will. Vice President Na must have been an expert dancer in his past life, or something, because after that one dizzying moment, you find yourself leaning against the edge of the table he had been just a second ago. Warm hands are on your waist, tucked under your cardigan, the heat bleeding through your shirt.

And the Vice President’s smile is inches away from your face, still mischievous but much gentler than any other time before.

You’re not sure if you’re paralyzed or if you just don’t want to move, but the reason doesn’t affect the outcome: all you can do is stare up at him, once again dumbfounded after a small outpouring of words that ends in some kind of forced defeat. Except this particular surrender doesn’t feel so sore, for some reason.

“Even when you’re angry, you’re still pretty, you know that?”

“I wasn’t… angry,” you mumble under your breath, afraid that talking louder will scare him off. You don’t even think he’s listening all that much to you, considering that all he does is tuck your hair behind your left ear and completely change the topic.

“So, tell me, Secretary ____________. Is this still a situation where we’re not close at all?” He pauses for a moment, probably to let you answer, but you don’t say anything. You’re pretty sure your swallowing nervously is the only true sound you make. He seems to be eager to do a lot of the talking anyway, which is absolutely fine by you. “Or have I completely misread all your cute little signals?”

“Well — no, but I didn’t send any signals.” Obvious ones, at least. You’d been pretty sure you had tried to keep it under wraps as much as possible, but you’re starting to realize it’s a little possible you’re not as great at pretending as you think you are.

“Not on purpose, probably. Although you really almost got me with the one-man show vibe you have during lunch hour.”

“I… didn’t think you knew, if I’m being honest.” Honesty is the only thing you have right now, anyway, especially since Vice President Na has pretty much confirmed, in his own way, that he knows about how you feel. Now you can only wonder if he’d noticed before you even came to terms with it yourself, and the thought of that being a real possibility urges you to grab the still-steaming cup of coffee and douse yourself with its contents.

“For a while, I was pretty sure you were messing with me. I would never,” he adds just as you say it too, mimicking your astounded tone up to the lilt. “Which is why I started thinking about why else you might be looking at me so intently. You weren’t sitting there objectifying me, were you, miss secretary?”

“Sir, I would never,” you repeat, and he mouths the same words again in his amusement, although silently this time.

“I think I would have been okay with it if you were. Or would be, even until now. For the record.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You sure? No shame in it. Totally fine. Not sure about anyone else, but I’m totally okay if someone else thinks I’m eye candy in the privacy of their own minds. I am, I think, a fine specimen of a human, if I do say so myself.”

“I really wasn’t, sir.”

“You should have, then. Lost opportunities.””

“I could argue that I was just worried you’d leave and not come back.”

“You know I wouldn’t do that to you,” he hums. “Not anymore, anyway.”

The ‘to you’ is what stumps you into another silent spell, but this time, Vice President Na doesn’t attempt to fill in the void. He just starts running his eyes over your face, like he’s trying to read something there or maybe memorize your features, or something. At some point, you start thinking about how this kind of silence isn’t exactly uncomfortable, contrary to your expectations and with interesting consideration of the fact that he’s still holding your hips. Apart from the idle skimming of his thumb over the curve of your pelvic bone, he doesn’t move — nearer or closer, which is probably for the best since you don’t know which one you really want more at this point.

Again, when you gather some part of your wits, the only thing you still know how to ask is “Why?”

“Because,” he replies immediately, simply, like the answer has always been very clear and you’ve just been too ignorant to figure it out. “You said that I could, not that I had to.”

It’s hot. Isn’t it hot? You don’t know what he’s talking about, but your body already reacts on principle, and you have to stand-half-lean there with your entire face burning and Vice President Na’s body heat washing over yours like an electric blanket.

“I don’t know what that means, sir.”

“It means I didn’t do this for my dad or just because you told me off in the comfort of my own office.” He bites down on his lower lip to keep himself from laughing (yet again) at you as he witnesses, from the best seat in the house, your face turning almost purple with the effort of keeping down your embarrassment. “Although that played a bit of a factor in it. I couldn’t tell if it was rude of you to say so much or kind of cute that you did despite knowing you were being rude. But that’s besides the point.”

Good, you think. If he manages to hit you with another cute in this timeframe, you may easily cease to exist.

“You know firsthand, anyway, what my dad always says. You must take on the responsibility you were born with. You have to do your job. You must remember that you owe your life to my achievements.” He mimics his father’s gruff, booming voice amusingly well, to the point that you can’t stop yourself from laughing. His facade breaks easily, and you think you hear him mumble cute under his breath again, although you choose to ignore it so your knees don’t buckle completely (something that you think would be very embarrassing with you so close to him). “I don’t think he’s ever once said an encouraging word to my face. And if there’s anything I can confidently say I won’t do, it’s doing what people only say I need to do. It’s my life, you know what I mean? I’ll do what I want.”

“You’re saying you suddenly wanted to work because I said you could?”

“More like I wanted to see if you were right.” He muses. “I was pretty sure I didn’t have the personality for it. Or the attention span. Or the skill, either.”

“I think a couple of those things are still up in the air, sir.”

“One compliment and you’re already gunning for another insubordination report.” Vice President Na’s voice is a low, casual hum, but you notice the grip around your waist tightens for a brief moment. “At first, I figured I’d just show up to get everyone off my back, but I realized along the way that I’m pretty good at this being at the helm business. I’m sure you’ll agree. Hopefully because you want to, not because you also have to.”

“I do agree.” Your reply is wholehearted, and the Vice President’s smile widens. Your chest swells so much that you think you might explode right in front of him. “Because I want to.”

“Please don’t misunderstand me, miss secretary. I’m not attributing all my successes to your impulsive words.” He teases, although his eyes stay gentle despite his tone. “The efforts were still all mine. However, I’m not too proud to admit I had a very responsible first mate by my side, for whom I am very grateful. Although I hope this doesn’t mean she’ll pluck up the courage to ask for a raise considering how well I pay her. I think. Does she get paid well? Maybe I should ask Park Jinhee from accounting.”

“She won’t,” you laugh softly, not missing the fact that he’s finally learned her name. “And she’s not really doing this for the salary, even if it is a nice bonus.”

“What’s she doing it for, then?”

As a job, this was really mostly about yourself — or it was, in the beginning. You’d terrorized Vice President Na to some degree because of the innate tendency towards self-preservation, and when that felt a little one-sided, you also considered everyone who might lose their jobs if the department got cut. It had been, for the most part, an act of pure desperation, so strong that you were willing to point fingers and raise your voice (only a few decibels, because you’re not a crazy person) at your boss. Now… that wasn’t really part of the equation. Maybe you had gotten used to the fact that the Vice President wouldn’t be going anywhere, so you’d stopped worrying about your and everyone else’s jobs, which all seem to be on a smooth path alongside the captain of the ship.

But if you had to be honest to yourself, part of the reason you’d grown a bit complacent about thinking about the fate of the department also had to do with the fact that you genuinely enjoyed being next to the Vice President. Mornings spent helping him prepare for work were regular highlights in your week, and the looks of approval you received from him every time you helped him finish a particularly difficult task were second to none. Always being close to him, always being the first and last to see him in the day, simply being able to look at him -– silly as that all sounds, they now play an undeniable factor in your desire to wake up and go to the office every single day.

“I did it for you.” You answer, and because the answer’s honest, it feels completely natural to say. A pause slowly lengthens between you two, though not nearly as tense or borderline uncomfortable as you thought it might be this time around. A slow smile stretches over the Vice President’s face, but his words don’t easily take the straightforward route this time, either.

“Should I take up with the human resources department the fact that you’re outright breaching the terms of our contractual workplace relationship? How am I?” He speaks over, with you again, your voices overlapping. You can’t help it — you laugh at the absurdity of how well he’s come to know your responses, from the word choice to the lilt in your voice that signals some level of affront. When, exactly, did Vice President Na start committing the things you said and did into memory? “You’re seducing me, miss secretary. Before you say you’re not — you are. You are, without even knowing it. You’re winning me over, telling me all these sweet nothings to tickle my heart — I believe in you, Jaemin. I love working with you, Jaemin. I did it all for you, Jaemin, because you’re obviously the best in the whole world, ho ho ho.”

“I never said it like that.”

“You might as well have.”

“Should I stop believing in you so that we can avoid a scene, then, or is the damage to your good standing too far gone?”

“Rather than stopping something already in full motion, I think it might be better to make certain amendments to our current agreement.” Vice President Na reaches for the pen tucked into his breast pocket — the gold clip catches the fluorescent light and momentarily blinds you as he brings it up between you. He brings it to one side, then to another, and your eyes follow it, amused but also admittedly a bit hypnotized.

“What kind of trance are you putting me under, sir?”

“The kind that gets you to stop calling me that,” he chuckles. “Among other, more important things on my agenda.”

You have an excellent view of Vice President Na’s stellar smile from the back of the meeting room.

The deal he closes three days later goes even better than expected; not only does he bring Amazon into the fold after weeks of (surprisingly consistent) hard work and no small amount of beguiling charm (owing to the fact that he’d offended said Amazon representatives earlier on in his still relatively short-lived career), but he also manages to snag Samsung Electronics’ participation. As an already existing subscriber to the company-provided phone plan, you’re pleased to find out that you’re entitled to twelve guilt-free months of Prime Video as part of a new promotional deal, which you can now enjoy on nights you aren’t working overtime — something you’ve racked up more of as you’ve found yourself striking more of a work-life balance, thanks in large part to the Vice President’s steadily active involvement in all things on the ‘work’ aspect of the scale. Your first goal is to finally get past the first episode of an animation everyone in the department is raving about (but that you haven’t seen more than five minutes of, in actuality, because the horrible subtitles and sluggish 144px stop motion-esque have, until recently, adamantly deterred you from enjoying anything about the story).

Standing a fair distance away from the executives, you wait for the flurry of handshakes and accompanying congratulatory statements to die down; it takes quite a while, considering the sheer volume of people, and the thickest throng has come to gather around Vice President Na. At one point, all you can see of him is the slightly unruly lick of hair that’s sticking out above the rest of the considerable crowd of balding men around him (the sole crow’s feather a mountain range of gray). All their voices overlap, and you’re only able to catch key phrases — brilliant young mind… knack for business! … just like the President… bright future ahead, you know?

Fifteen minutes of conversation and bellowing guffaws pass before Vice President Na emerges, adjusting the front of his blazer as a result of too much handshaking. Behind him, still speaking to one of the marketing executives, is President Na, who shoots his son a surreptitious look you’ve never seen him wear in your considerable number of years in the company’s employ — one of triumph and pride. The Vice President, however, is intently loosening his tie and scanning the room, stretching himself just a fraction taller above everyone else to get a better view throughout.

You wait, wondering if he’s looking to speak to someone, lost in that host of black and gray suits — the Amazon media director, perhaps, or the in-house designer that also seems to be trying to catch his eye, for some reason (you sense the needy greed for a sudden promotion that seems highly unlikely in such a setting), but even though his vision passes over them, however briefly, Vice President Na doesn’t seem satisfied.

That is, until his eyes land on the corner of the room you and Secretary Son have backed yourselves into to allow the higher-ups room to mingle.

One beat later, and the corners of his mouth are pulled up — a soft, knowing smile directed in your general direction. You glance at Secretary Son, maybe out of instinct, maybe somehow out of panic — as though you worry she’ll somehow come to chastise you, but she’s too busy trying to re-buckle her thin coat belt with rapid-fire tsks. She seems acceptably preoccupied, so your eyes flit back to the Vice President, whose eyebrows are now slightly raised, the telltale signs of a growing grin now playing on his lips as the front of his teeth begin to peek out from the seam. Another cock of his eyebrows, lifting them higher, tells you he’s waiting for some kind of message — an indication that you see him too, maybe, or… perhaps, oddly, any sign that you’re as proud of him as everyone else in the room is.

You can’t help it — you laugh, louder than you’d have originally liked to, a hand coming up over your mouth as Secretary Son’s head snaps up from her waist, bamboozled at your quick but sudden outburst. She throws you a look that suggests she firmly believes your mind has snapped, quite like a stale breadstick in a derelict Italian restaurant, but it’s worth it; Vice President Na looks satisfied at this — though, why he would be, you haven’t a true clue.

As the managers and members of the board file out of the room, both you and Secretary Son inch closer to your respective direct superiors; you both stand a few steps away as the last of the executives drag their feet, still hoping to share one last handshake with either of the two, until an elderly Mrs. Kwon’s surprisingly firm grip is finally shaken off by a sheepish President Na. He turns to his son, who’s still hosting the remnants of a genial smile on his lips, clearly poised to say something. For some reason, you expect the senior to berate the former, simply out of sheer habit, but he does nothing of the sort.

“Jaemin-ah,” his voice is gruff but not at all begrudging; it’s a low rumble of triumph. “Who’d’ve thought? My boy… you brat…”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental now, dad,” the Vice President teases, to which the President chortles heartily.

“Old men like me have the right, much more than anyone else.” You’ve never seen the President wear an expression even remotely close to softness, but you see it in his gaze now; it strikes you, then, that although you’ve always known the two to be related, this is the first time you can confidently say they resemble each other to the cores of their being — a view of happiness, somewhat mirrored in each of them. “I’m proud of you, son. You did everything I hoped you would — no, no… more than that, even.”

“I’ll take most of the praise, thanks,” Vice President Na replies with his characteristic cheek. For a moment, so quickly you think you may have missed it, his eyes flicker to you. “But I can’t say I could’ve done it alone.”

“Punk,” President Na snorts, yanking on his son’s earlobe; you and Secretary Son have to avert your eyes with expert speed to avoid being caught snickering at the slightly juvenile “ow, dammit,” that the Vice President groans out. “One big closed deal, and your head’s this big? I better not catch you floating away to a Las Vegas casino after all this.”

“Give me some credit; I’d at least visit the desert first.” This time, when the Vice President glances at you, his father’s head turns too, and you stand up straighter at the unprecedented onslaught of attention. “Besides, I’ve got someone here to keep me anchored now.”

“Good work, Secretary ____________,” President Na offers you a rare smile that truly has you feeling like the world has turned upside down: the President in an agreeable (almost ecstatic, though you’d never say that out loud) mood, the Vice President doing his job not just in general but actually commendably well, and not a single strand of baby hair sticking up from out of your ponytail. Inconceivable.

You bow, murmuring a thank you, and Secretary Son quickly follows suit for the formality of it all before she strides over to the President, who’s leaving his son with one last thunder-like clap on the back before he’s leaving the meeting room, still jovial when he catches up with the suspiciously lagging figure of Mrs. Kwon by the door.

Vice President Na starts to follow suit, walking towards the other end of the meeting room; you quickly scurry behind him, still clutching your tablet, blinking a low battery warning, to your chest. You’ve come to grow accustomed to the ‘secretary’s pace’ over the last few weeks as well — always close enough to help, never too close enough to step on a superior’s toes.

But in the moment you fumble to silence your device, you end up stepping into someone’s shadow; glancing up at the Vice President, you find yourself looking at not the familiar view of his back but that of his side profile (one you’re actually also familiar with, though you refuse to admit to the level of familiarity). He’s slowed his pace considerably, allowing you to naturally fall into step with him, and even this, he expects a response from you somehow — he asks for it with yet another wiggle of his eyebrows. You laugh again, shaking your head, and yet, inexplicably, it seems to be exactly the reaction he hopes to see.

The department floor erupts into applause when the two of you pass through the glass doors; a flash of mollification crosses the Vice President’s features before he’s back to his signature light humor, raising a palm up in receipt of praise. Park Jinhee is clapping with only her left hand smacking the side of her mug, a few drops of coffee streaming down the handle side on impact. One of the team managers rushes forward, eager to shake Vice President Na’s hand, and, riding his high, also yours, pumping it up and down with so much vigor that you mumble a quiet ow behind a strained smile. Only the Vice President’s hand on your shoulder, steering you away, saves you from what feels like possible dislocation.

He’s still waving at them like this is a pageant and not his day job, even as he guides you towards his office door; you have to use your elbows to push it open and effectively help you both avoid ramming into frosted glass. The applause dies down as your somewhat conjoined figures disappear through the doorway — you first, albeit convolutedly, your heel still holding strong in the job of keeping the door wide open enough for Vice President Na to saunter through before you let it swing shut to a now relatively silent office floor.

His hold on your shoulder doesn’t let up, though; it’s still urging you forward, towards his desk, and you open your mouth to say something along the lines of I’m gonna break my hip if we keep going this way, but just as your throat conjures up the first syllable, he turns you around, letting you rest light against the edge of the table.

In a pattern reminiscent of three days prior, Vice President Na’s hand finds its way to your waist, utterly comfortable in a way that mystifies you; he acts like it belongs there, as natural as the smile that’s still playing on his lips.

“Sir, you realize it’s the middle of the day?”

“You realize that we had a deal,” he corrects you, brow furrowing in feigned sternness. “Hold up your end of it, miss secretary.”

“Only if you stop calling me that.”

“Now, that absolutely was not part of the contract.”

When you laugh this time, he chimes in; there’s a harmony in your voices that has your posture softening. You feel airier, your heart much lighter, and when you look up at him, you can’t help but flush at his expectant gaze.

“You realize it’s the middle of the day,” you repeat, carefully, the words suddenly somewhat unfamiliar on your tongue — the next two syllables, most of all. “Jae… min.”

Odd as it is, you’re rewarded with the pleased look that takes over his features; he takes a moment to exaggeratedly revel in this new occurrence.

“Better. Much better. You could still be a bit more comfortable with it, I’d say, but… baby steps?”

“Please re-prioritize your day, si— Jaemin.” The terse tone you’re going for is brutally marred by your blunder, which has his shoulders shaking from laughter. “Someone could very easily walk in.”

“Who’s going to fire me?”

“I can think of one person.”

“You heard him. I’m proud of you, Jaemin. You’ve completely exceeded my expectations, Jaemin. You are the light of my life — my favorite son, Jaemin, ho, ho, ho.”

“Sir,” you sigh. “You’re his only son.”

“We had a deal,” he repeats, letting the return to habits slide, and there’s a laughably childish air to his words. “I’ll… file an insubordination report. Breach of contract as well. Tsk, tsk, miss secretary. Not on such a momentous occasion.”

“Some might classify this as threatening behavior.” Your eyes are soft, though, when they meet his humored gaze. “If you want a reward… ask a little more nicely.”

A soft snort — his fingers dig lightly into your waist, and the next second, he’s lifting you off your feet and settling you lightly atop his desk. his palms never leave you, even after you’ve been placed; they’re increasingly warm beyond the fabric of your top.

“____________,” he murmurs, saying your name so naturally that you could almost believe he’s referred to you as nothing else for as long as you’ve known him. “Kiss me.”

Your own hands find their way behind his neck, but he does most of the work in closing the gap anyway; you’re not even sure who, between the two of you, gave that first sigh of longing, of relief. Perhaps it was both of you, all at once.

Jaemin still tastes like the coffee you’d given him this morning — not a trace of richness, but a bittersweet and earthy twang that’s signature post-Americano. There’s even a hint of mintiness from the nervous handful of Tic Tacs he’d had just before the meeting started; you find that out the moment his tongue swipes against yours, leaving behind the invisible bite of menthol. And then there’s you, a clean taste that settles against his teeth, subtle first but growing stronger until you’re satisfied with the notion that you may linger there for some time — even after you pull away, slightly breathless.

“Congratulations to me,” he breathes out, trademark grin flashing bright again. “So what happens if I close next month’s Disney Plus deal?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer; his hand’s already skimming down, over your hips, following the path of your thigh. Your hand reaches out on instinct to stop him, but he’s oddly more aware of his surroundings than you give him credit for (or maybe, you’re just that predictable to him). He meets your palm, fingers lacing into yours and allowing him to lift your wrist to his lips. There, you feel the warmth of his kiss again, and he uses his hold to bring himself even closer, until he’s able to press his face into your neck.

“Sir—”

“Jaemin. You call me Jaemin from now on, remember?”

“Sir.” You’re adamant. “It’s work hours.”

“You’re not tense.”

He doesn’t move his head; in fact, you feel him burying his face further into your shoulder. In this position, there’s no real way for you to pull away — there’s also no real desire for you to do so, anyway.

“No, I’m not.”

“Good.” Warmth again on your skin — his lips leave an invisible mark just above your collarbone. “I like you best like this.”

“What? Not tense?”

“Happy,” he corrects for accuracy. “Happy that you’re with me.”

You fall silent, not because you’re not sure of what to say, but because you don’t need to tell him that he’s right.

Moments later, his fingers find their way into your ponytail; the index hooks into the elastic, bringing your hair down. You feel his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, he’s inhaling your perfume again.

“Green tea. Something floral. Jasmine? Maybe a little bit of citrus.” He lifts his head but stays close, warm breath washing over you. “It’s so you. Fresh. Pure. Beautiful.”

The gap between the two of you doesn’t last for too long thereafter; he kisses you again, and your heart lifts to find that your taste still lingers somewhere there. It’s longer because it’s slower — less playful and more exploratory, until he pulls away to a much more breathless you. How he finds the air to talk even after is miraculous to you.

“Be mine, miss secretary.”

You blink — once, twice, at his serious expression, wondering if it will break and give way to more humor. But he waits, unwavering, until the last piece of resistance you’ve clung onto is washed away — the last thing that made you, for a second, deny that you were in love with him.

His smile slowly mirrors yours as it grows.

“Like you could ever get rid of me, Na Jaemin.”

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