#/just something about cats...mischief...and the constant avoidance of death...that make them go together so well

[amberedcorpse]

Having trouble sleeping tonight, so I've been thinking of something more lighthearted. Like how felines (and I mean all felines, big or small) are unnaturally sweet with Felix. As if his skin were entirely covered with catnip. They follow him everywhere he goes and pile on him if he stays still long enough. Your muse could someday find him like this.

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

Let’s say England has a long-term girlfriend he knows isn’t the biggest fan of marriage bc her family had been really really pushy (before she got the heck out of dodge) about her marrying + reproducing ASAP. How might he react if she came to him and said she was kinda starting to like the general concept of marrying him — that is, the whole ‘together forever’ bit. Thanks!

I confess darling that I have been trying to finish this prompt for well over a year, and I offer my sincerest apologies that it’s taken me this long to finish it. Still, despite my tardiness, I hope you enjoy, and I thank you for your patience with me.

You had never intended to fall in love, not with the constant push of your relatives to fall in line like a perfect child.

First, marriage to someone they deemed acceptable, raising the perfect 2.5 children, followed by quietly settling into parenthood and complaisant contentment until the day you last drew breath.

Truth of the matter was, you had avoided all chances of romance for the first few years after you moved away from home, carefully slipping away from anyone who seemed remotely interested in you.

You knew your folks would have disproved such behaviour had they learnt the truth, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You had your own dreams to pursue, your own story to tell, your own life to live; you didn't need someone by your side to feel complete.

You were happy as you were, finding enjoyment in your work and figuring out your place in the world.

You didn’t need, or frankly want, anything more than that.

That was of course until you met him.

Falling in love with Arthur Kirkland had been a complete accident. He slipped past all of your defenses and took up residence in your heart as if he had always belonged there.

It started out slow enough; at first you simply knew him as a familiar face from the cafe in Waterstones, steaming cup of Darjeeling and a chocolate croissant sitting forgotten on the table in front of him, always too focused on his reading to pay any attention to the outside world. After one particularly crowded Sunday afternoon, he began to transition into your favorite dining companion, the two of you often taking turns paying for each other’s food. Slowly but surely, you began forgetting about your books, too wrapped up in conversation, and before you knew it-

You had come to love every part of him- the gentleman that you begrudgingly introduced to your parents, the rebellious and passionate activist, the cocky and playful little shit who had long ago memorised all the best ways to disarm you, and the ancient soul who cared so deeply, who still stretched himself thin most days in effort to protect each of his loved ones.

You fell in love with his voice, whispering sonnets and sonatas and sweet nothings in your ear while his arms cradled you from behind.

You fell in love with his eyes, still losing your footing sometimes when the light caught them just right, dreaming momentarily of summer forests and grassy glades and the misty dews of spring.

You fell in love with his smiles, from the satisfied grin at stirring up Peter’s ire to the breathless wonder each time you kissed or complimented him, to the bright, beautiful, blinding smile he wore when he was incandescently happy, his entire countenance iridescent from his joy.

You loved him completely- for his devotion, for his sweet gestures, for his damned impishness, for his wit, his sass, and the soft spoken affection.

You loved him: for his patience, for his recklessness, for his resilience, for his possessive pride that was somehow more charming than alarming.

He was unique, an enigma that, even after having lived together for years and dating even longer, kept you on your toes, his energy and random spouts of spontaneity proving to you that, even if you spent one hundred lifetimes with him, he would always remain a puzzle you would never fully solve.

And by God did you want to.

Arthur had stolen your heart away from you before you had even noticed he was close enough to take it, offering his own in its stead.

You had remained reluctant, confided in him your fears about settling down, how much you dreaded becoming trapped in a monotonous rut of tedium. He was quick to reassure you, showing through words and actions far more impassioned and teasing than he had ever shown prior, that an eternity with him could never be boring.

Even on quiet days, like today, with a steady drizzle painting the world in greys, Arthur humming quietly while adding another patch to his denim vest, and no other disturbance apart from the cat’s chittering at the robins playing in a puddle by the iron fence- Even now, you weren’t so much bored as you were pensive.

You had been thinking about a future with him a lot in the past few days, some irrelevant ad on your mobile about wedding venues catching your attention and slithering into the back of your mind.

What kind of wedding would he like? Would Arthur prefer something small and intimate, or would his hubris crave a larger venue, giving him yet another chance to prove to the world that he belonged at your side, no one else?  You couldn’t help but wonder if he would wear his uniform or a suit, if he would leave the rats' nest he called a hairstyle untouched, or if he would perhaps slick it back in that way that somehow made the normal rakishness disappear, a confident, refined cavalier standing in his place.

You knew of course that none of this mattered unless you actually talked to him first; as far as you were aware, he was content with the current arrangement, and he respected your views of marriage.

He had known, for a long time, just where the grim outlook stemmed from, and he never breached the subject again.

But now-

You had thought it was enough to hold his love, his faith, his vulnerabilities. But life was so fleeting, and now those few things were no longer enough.

You wanted to wake up every morning next to him, wanted the cheesy partners’ towel and flip flop sets. You wanted the physical reminder that you held his heart, the comforting reminder that he completely possessed your own. You wanted to be by his side forever, holding his hand through the good and the ill, facing new worlds and challenges and the uncertain future together.

You knew the risks, of course.

Marriage to a Nation carried an even heavier burden than the simple oath of “till death do us part.”

No, marrying Arthur would mean weaving your entire lives together, binding you on a spiritual level far surpassing mortality; it would mean sacrificing your chance to ever grow old, to eternally give yourself away: heart, mind, body, and soul.

But this was Arthur, who sang showtunes in the shower, who spent hours making silly faces at the cat, who was ridiculously competitive about Halloween costumes, the man who sat down and memorised the entirety of The Tempest in one night just for the bragging rights.

He already owned your heart, constantly invaded your thoughts and daydreams, and God knew he had long, long ago claimed your body, making certain not a single millimeter of his new territory went unexplored.

Would it really be so bad to give him your soul, too?

Glancing back up, seeing his eyes narrowed in concentration, his fingers handling the needle with expert precision, lips slightly parted, reading glasses fallen halfway down his nose-

You knew your answer.

It was always going to be Arthur for you, only Arthur.

Forever, should he have you.

But now you faced the challenge of telling him that.

It should be simple enough; you really held no more secrets from him, and he no longer bothered trying to hide anything from you. You loved how open you were with one another, cherished the honesty that served as the very foundation to your relationship.

But the truth was that you were terrified.

It had been so long since either of you had spoken of marriage, since the topic was even a thought in your minds, and-

What if he didn't want you anymore?

What if he-

"I can see the steam coming outta your ears."

The unexpected presence of Arthur's voice startled you, eyes darting back over to the very man who was unwittingly tormenting you.

He had barely moved from his earlier position, though his glasses had been pushed up into his hair and he was studying you curiously, if not bemusedly.

"You good there?"

By default, you nearly responded with an affirmative, some playful, lighthearted thing that would have dismissed his concern immediately. You cut yourself off mid-start, then, while shifting to sit properly in the armchair, you decided to push forward. "Can we talk?"

You watched as his expression shifted, revealing his concern as he tied off his thread, setting aside the patchwork and gestured for you to join him on the sofa.

There were a few awkward moments where you took up your favourite positions, Arthur tossing an afghan across the pair of you despite your insistence that you didn't need one, the flicker of a grin as you begrudgingly thanked him, and then shifting around as you both got comfortable, but soon enough-

"Alright, now; talketh at-eth me."

It was impossible to fight the smile his choice of words triggered, a reference to an inside joke so old now that you could scarcely recall its origin. Seeming to deem it a success, his own soft, reassuring smile greeted you.

"Seriously though, luv-" His hand came to rest atop your own, his fingers gently tapping a familiar rhythm against your skin. "What's troubling you?"

You were half-tempted to offer something short of sincerity, something innocuous and mundane that you could both laugh over and forget again within a few hours. Yet, you knew that if you didn't tell him now, didn't ask him now, you would never find the courage again.

"I've been thinking-"

"Ah. A scary premise in its own right."

"Oh, shut up," you retorted to his tease, smacking his arm for his troubles. He rewarded you with a grin, all fondness and mischief. Opting to ignore him, you pressed on, eyes downcast to avoid whatever judgement he may offer.

"As I was trying to say earlier, before I was so rudely interrupted-" The teasing fell off, and the worry crept back in. "I've been thinking. About us."

"O-oh?"

Were you not so consumed by your own anxieties, you would have noticed his stutter, would have seen the sudden tension in his posture, the fear in his eyes. As it was, you were completely oblivious to all of it, and made yourself continue at his prompting.

"I- I think I'm ready."

He mimed the word "ready" to himself, parroting it with utter befuddlement. "For wha-"

"I mean, I know I wasn't for such a long time, and-" Suddenly, you were off, half unhinged. Now that you had admitted the truth aloud, it was all rushing out of you, everything you had come to love about him, everything that-

A finger pressing firmly against your lips stopped you mid-tangent, and when you glanced up to find piercing, blazing emerald focused on you as if you were the very center of the universe, whatever remained of your ramblings disappeared entirely.

"What are you trying to say?"

A simple question, so easy to answer, yet it carried with it the weight of Infinities, demanding nothing save the truth, in its most basic state.

You were lost in his gravity, half-drowning in whatever this new feeling was. It was addicting, another riddle to be solved.

"Marry me."

Time stood still, the words weighing heavily in the space between you, now seemingly insurmountable despite being no more than mere decimeters.

Arthur showed no reaction, revealed no indication that he had even heard your plea, your query, your command, your request, and yet it echoed over and over in your own mind, the tone, the weight, the untimeliness-

Every facet- from your inflection to chosen tempo- crescandoed as an accusation, a mocking symphony that he would reject you, that you would be left with only the haunting strains of your ill-conceived proposal.

And yet-

There was a hesitation in his eyes, the face of a man who wanted wholeheartedly to believe what he had heard, but had been burned far too often in the past to dare allow himself hope.

"You-" His eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed as he studied you once more, only for the suspicion to disappear again almost immediately, disbelief swiftly taking its place. "You're serious?"

It was then that you finally read his nervousness, understood the strange emotion reflecting in his eyes.

You had lead him to a precipice, the vast Unknown before you both, and-

And he was just as fragile as you were, even if he was better at hiding it.

You gave his hand a light squeeze, hoping to ground you both, and offered him a nod. “If you’ll have me, anyway.”

His eyes flickered between your own, darting back-and-forth so quickly in search of a lie, of any doubts, of any hint that you were less than certain- yet you knew he would find none of that.

“What about your family?”

The question took you by surprise; in the moment, you had completely forgotten anyone else even existed.

You weighed his question carefully. Marrying Arthur would give your family leave to gloat in self-satisfaction, and you knew with absolutely certainty that they would hold it over your head for the next three decades. But looking into the eyes of the man before you, remembering all that you had already seen and done together, you found that others' opinions no longer mattered, really hadn't mattered in a long, long time.

“I couldn’t care less about them. Arth-”

Whatever you were going to say was forgotten as he closed the remaining distance between you, moving so swiftly that you scarcely had a moment to steady yourself before he captured you in a searing kiss, one of his most passionate by far.

Somehow, despite the suddenness of it all, the initial force, the intensity- 

He was being incredibly gentle, and moving slowly enough to almost be more a torment than a treat. Almost.

You found yourself lost in a daze when he finally pulled away, just enough for each of you to catch your breaths, just far enough that he could study you with rapt attention. You could have drowned in his eyes, endless greens magnetizing in their intensity. His hands were still cradling your cheeks, still holding you firmly in place, a not completely foreign expression creasing his features.

You couldn't quite place it, even as your memories shifted desperately in search of its mate.

"'If I'd have you?'" His words, a rhetorical refrain of your own mere moments earlier, were scarcely a shared breath between you, murmured in timbre so low it summoned a shiver. There was the smallest twitch of his lip, his head tilting ever so slightly as more of that damned deviousness made its presence known. "I fully intend to have you regardless, luv. But the formality of it all certainly adds a particular je ne sais quoi, wouldn't you agree?"

You'd be damned if he knew just how that made your heart flutter, if he knew just how much weight that reassurance had lifted from your shoulders.

Carefree, content, you offered a playful smile. "Till death do us part then?"

Arthur no longer bothered trying to restrain his smile, soft and sincere in a way that left you breathless. "I'll love you till even the stars go cold, my dear."

Thanks for reading~

[chanluster]

business proposals | {m}

oneshot | ceo! au | 10.9k words

“It was about time you addressed the cat and mouse game you and your boss have been playing for a time.”

s u m m a r y > > clashing heads with your annoyingly attractive boss was your everyday activity, but when a new, beautiful client comes in for the day you find yourself getting jealous. mr. lee, catching on, uses it to his absolute advantage, causing you to end up in a situation you did not think would end well. fortunately for you, with the way your dark-minded ceo’s mind worked, despite the hiccups in the middle, it ended just perfectly.

w a r n i n g s > > ceo! minho, secretary! reader, you get so annoyed at him all the time, he annoys you all the time, constant teasing, a fuckload of swearing, soooo much (kinda shit) sexual tension, flirtation back and FORTH, titles of endearment, minho is such a fucking dom, reader is a fucking BRAT, making out, fingering, oral (m. and f. receiving) you try to give him blueballs, unprotected sex (stay safe homies!!), semi-public sex (i mean they do it in his office so like), multiple orgasms, y’all be arguing during it all too HELP, minho has a sir kink sjsjskke, minho is so AGGRESSIVE HOLY SHIT, SO MUCH degradation, use of gags? (i mean he uses his tie so) basically you are 100% minho’s bitch by the end period!!

a u t h o r ’ s  n o t e > > hello horny fia is back again with a minho oneshot because she can not control herself!!!1!1! thank you @hyuckworld​ for so much inspo and helping me out omfg the tie thing still on my mind !1!1! anyway this is inspired by minho’s soribada look cause he mf SERVED! and i hope y’all enjoy !

back to masterlist

YOUR SMILE WAS MORE LIKE A FLASH OF TEETH.

“For the last time,” you seethed, trying your very best to contain your bubbling temper, “You cannot see him if you don’t have an appointment.”

The woman before you, a striking image of curls and curves, fitted red dress, white blazer, and Louboutins elevating her height, knifed you with finely-lined eyes. “But I don’t need an appointment! Mr. Lee said so himself I could arrive at his office when I wished to speak with him!”

You pursed your lips. Of course Mr. Fucking Lee said so.

“Well, there’s nothing I can do about it, Miss Kim.” You turned to your computer, opening up the list of clients intended to meet your boss this afternoon. Sure enough, this woman’s name was not accompanied with the others. Once again, he had said some pretty words, but had not reminded you of them so you could write it down for official backing.

You could not help typing a little furiously. It was like he was trying to make your life harder.

“I demand to see him!” Miss Kim exclaimed, raising her voice so the other employees, who were scattered before you at their desks, working away, paused, witnessing the commotion. “I did not travel from another city to be rejected!”

“Ma’am,” you guttered, hands on the telephone, ready to call security, when the misty, glass-like door beside you swung upon.

A firm, sultry voice resonated in the room.

“What is the meaning of this noise?”

Out stepped the one man you were hoping would stay seated in his office.

You turned around in your seat, looking up at the suited figure of Lee Minho — CEO of the corporation you worked under, and the mastermind behind the technological revolution in your city.

He certainly looked the part: black suit unbuttoned with his tie hanging, white shirt contrasting the colours. His trousers hugged his thighs a little too tightly for your own good, designer branded shoes adorning his feet. His dark brown locks were cascading over his forehead, and his calculating eyes assessed the room, finding the reason for such noise behind his doors.

His gaze settled on the woman. “Ah, Miss Kim!” He declared, a known dazzling smile upon his lips. “It’s good you’ve arrived.”

“Of course I would come,” she said, darting her glare back to you. “This little assistant of yours was ready to throw me out of the building.”

A slight tilt of his head. “Oh, really?”

Then, his eyes descended on you, seated before him, and you noticed something already stirring behind them. “And why was this ‘little assistant of mine’ booting you out of here?”

You pointed to your computer. “She’s not on your list of appointments for today.”

“So?” A glance at the woman. “When a pretty lady asks to see me, you oblige her, understand?”

Seething, you lock your hands together. “Then what is the point of the list when you won’t follow it?”

You nearly gasped in anger when you caught slight mischief in his eyes. “Keeping you on your toes, ____.”

“As always,” you hissed, returning his malicious smirk with a scowl.

He only chuckled at your lack of amusement, turning to the woman once more. “Miss Kim,” he addressed her, opening the door, gesturing for her to enter. “Come inside.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lee,” she simpered out, widening her sharp grin at you before going inside his office.

The man stood, regarding you for a minute. You glanced at him, frown still there. “Yes?”

“I am not to be disturbed,” he said, gaze a little too intense for your liking. “Is that understood?”

You made sure to match his stare. “Yes, sir.”

And you could have sworn his lips twitched upward when he turned to his office, entering after the woman.

When the door slid shut, you let out a shuddering breath.

Why in hell were you holding your breath?

“God,” you muttered, furiously typing away on your computer, noticing another presence approaching you. “He’s going to be the death of me.”

“Do not tell me you’re talking about Mr. Lee here.”

You looked up, and rolled your eyes to find Kim Seungmin, one of the salesmen for the firm, standing before you, files in hand and a knowing smile on his lips. “I am, as a matter of fact,” you said. “And how much I want to kill him.”

The man gave you a look. “Now see, I don’t think ‘kill’ was the word I thought you’d use.”

“Oh yeah?” You crossed your arms. “Then what word do you think I’d use?”

“I don’t know, like…” his adorable smile was so unlike his words. “Kiss? Fuck even?”

You let out a harsh gasp, nearly whacking his arm with your scattered files. “Oh my God!”

“You can’t deny it, ____!” Seungmin pointed to the door. “You have a massive crush on him!”

“How can you even say that!” you demanded, pulling you near him so the others around you did not hear. “I hate that cocky bastard.”

Your friend clicked his tongue at your statement. “Then can you please explain to me why you both got enough sexual tension to suffocate the entire building?”

“We do not,” you refused instantly, picking up your mug of coffee. “You’re mistaking my bloodlust with just lust.”

“Can you at least stop pretending to me that you don’t want to suck his dick?”

Nearly choking on your coffee, you struggled it down, sending a sharp glare. “I don’t!” you raised your chin. “I bet it’s tiny anyway. Wouldn't have anything for me to suck on.”

Now that, of all the things you said that afternoon, was a complete, full blown, almost offensive, lie.

Not that you’ve caught a glimpse at the package which settled between Lee Minho’s legs. Well, you had, to your own shame, and were burning at the clothed sight, proving your little claim extremely incorrect. Your boss, devastatingly, had something substantial going for him.

Seungmin’s little laugh had you dropping down to reality. “You were thinking about his cock just now, weren’t you?”

Cheeks burning, you waved him off, groaning as you went back to your computer. Minho’s appointments looked oh so interesting. “Fuck off, Min.”

His laughter only deepened as he stepped away. “There’s no hope for you, girl. You keep daydreaming about that.”

If it weren’t for the people around you, you would have happily sent him away with a middle finger, but figured you should hang onto any scrap of professionalism left in you. The only thing you could do now was write up the new appointments for next week. Or perhaps play some Solitaire.

Anything to stop you thinking about him.

You twisted your lips into a scowl.

This was so unbelievable. Lee Minho was the greatest, most notorious asshole you knew of, yet here you were, like an absolute moron, pondering over him as if he was a lost love. All the time, when it was in meetings, or just bumping each other in the office breakroom, he managed to piss you off without effort, watching you enraged with a disgustingly ravishing smile on his revoltingly beautiful face. It was so, goddamn unfair, that he could rile you up so easily when all you could do was make him more amused.

To hell with him and his fine ass, you thought as you closed all tabs, opening up Solitaire.

Just as you thought you found a moment’s peace in this building, you heard the phone ring drastically loud, stopping you from completing a full set of one deck. Already irritated, you tried to suppress it as you picked up the handset, pressing it to your ear. “Minho and Company?”

The voice that greeted your ears made it incredibly hard to reign in your irritation. “Have you finished the list?”

“No,” was your clipped reply. You focused on the game, matching the cards to the deck of hearts.

“And when will this list finish?”

“I’m a busy woman, you know,” you drawled, aggressively clicking on your mouse. “You give me so much work it’s hard to keep up.”

“Oh, really?” Fuck him, you could hear the taunting in his voice. “So you don’t spend all day playing those stupid Windows games on your work computer?”

Your anger paused, eyes widening. The lack of response had the man cackling through the phone. “I bet you’re on that same card game you always play when you’re trying to avoid my tasks. What was the name again?”

“I can assure you, sir, I am not playing Solitaire.” You then sucked in an agitated breath at your mistake.

“Ah, that’s right.” You hated how you could hear the smirk playing on his lips. “Playing Solitaire and ignoring my work.”

Were you mistaken, or had his voice descended an octave? With the way you bit your lip, you knew you were caught anyway. “I’ll get the list done.”

“Mmm,” he got out, the low baritone still there. “And address me properly when you talk to me.”

Oh my God. “I’ll get the damned list done, sir.”

A small pause. “Good girl.”

And the line cut off.

Your hand nearly went limp holding the phone.

Good girl.

“Shut the fuck up,” you muttered, slamming the handset back in its place, feeling yourself heat up a frightening rate. “Cocky prick.”

All those curses towards him, and yet your cheeks still burned.

You did not cease your profanity — this time aiming more towards your own self.

Dear Lord. You really were in for it this time.

MINHO AND MISS KIM WERE STILL IN THAT ROOM BY THE TIME YOU HAD TO LEAVE THE OFFICE.

You decided to stay a little longer, finishing up the last of the tasks he’d assigned to you, and an hour later, when Seungmin passed your desk to exit the building, he darted his eyes to his boss’ door and wiggled his brows your way.

“Shut up,” you snapped at him, earning a cheeky smile.

“I wonder what they’re doing in there,” he thought out loud, propping a hand on your table.

You typed away, trying to dismiss the worst assumptions in your mind. “I don’t particularly care.”

Seungmin, damn him, could see right through you. “Then why are you still here? Pretending that I didn’t catch you with your ear to the door hours before?”

Unfortunately, he wasn’t lying. About three hours into the meeting, you became so restless you tried to listen in on what exactly was going on. It sounded so bizarre, when Minho had to sit in hours-long meetings every other day, but him alone in his office with that girl didn’t settle well with you.

“Oh, jealousy!” Seungmin chanted, pointing at your face. “Is that you I see before me?”

“Go away!” you waved him off, glowering at him. “I’m not jealous of some girl I saw today. Her and Minho can do whatever they want.”

“Whatever you say, ____,” he said, but the knowing smile lingered, aggravating you even more. “Good night.”

“Good night, Min,” you muttered, waiting for the man to turn out of the building before swinging in your chair.

The door welcomed you still.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Now see, you should not be letting your mind wander. Especially in situations which included your boss, another girl, and closed doors. Your gut twisted at the thought, and you were surprised at such a reaction.

What if Seungmin was right?

“No!” you whispered furiously to yourself, turning back to your computer. “Not jealous, just curious.”

Yes, that’s right. Just interested to know what the fuck they’re talking so long for.

“Oh God,” you breathed out, pressing your legs together. Maybe your friend was right. “Shit.”

Suddenly, you got up from your seat, picking up any scrap of paper and hurrying to the door. Pressing your ear to the misted glass, fingers clasping the metal handle. You could hear soft murmurs, a little laughter, but other than that, you failed to hear anything coherent.

This brought you even more agitation upon you. Doing something wrong, and it wasn’t even going as planned. This is what happened when you let yourself feel something.

Oh, no. Now you even admitted it to yourself that you had felt something for the asshole. If he ever heard of this, you would probably have to quit this job.

You pressed harder on the handle, never been more frustrated in your life than you were at that time. You were pathetic. Utterly disgraceful, but you could not help when you could not deny that Lee Minho-

You could not finish the thought.

Not when your hand slid on the handle too hard, swinging open the door. You let out a shrill screech as you stumbled inside the office, papers leaving your hands.

The conversation ceased, and you did not need to see them to know their eyes were on you.

Minho’s honey voice filled the room.

“What is this intrusion?”

You looked up, and felt your heart stop.

There he was, sitting leaned back at his plush executive chair, spinning a pen between his fingers. His brown locks were now raked back, a few strays cascading on the side of his forehead. His blazer was off, hung on his chair, and his shirt was tight on his hard chest.

Steadying yourself, but not your butterflies inside, you also saw Miss Kim hovering over him, showing him a few documents with her head a little close to his. She glanced up at you, and her face soured.

Minho snapped his fingers, shaking you out of your staring. “I asked you a question, ____.”

You wanted to snap at him, but reigned it in. “Sorry, but…”

But what? Not like you came in here with a plan.

Your eyes slid down to fallen files on the floor. “I needed to discuss...a proposal!”

Kneeling down, you picked up the scattered pieces of paper, on your feet in an instant. “Yes. A business proposal I needed to talk about.”

The man was not stupid; he saw right through your feeble excuse, with the impish gleam in his gaze. “Is that so?”

“What else would it be?” you pressed, masking your growing nerves with your irked frown.

His lips began to curve. You both stared each other down, refusing to back away. Miss Kim cleared her throat, even more angered by you now receiving his full attention.

“Shall I continue or…?” she carried off, completely deprived of his regard. Only when you glanced at her did his smile waver, raising the file.

He kept his eyes on you. “We can review this later,” he said to Miss Kim. He then addressed you. “And this time I’ll have an actual meeting planned. Happy,  ____?”

You couldn’t suppress a scoff, not gone unnoticed yet unaddressed, as the woman took the files from him. She sent him a dazzling smile. “I will see you later, Mr. Lee.”

He returned it with a nod, watching her stroll past you, and out of the office. You watched the door close itself, sensing the silence more now the two of you were alone.

The quiet stretched on for longer before a hard sigh had you facing your boss once again.

“Beautiful, isn’t she,” he began, observing you from his rather messy desk.

That little comment of his pissed you right off. “The prettiest, in my opinion,” you crowed, gripping onto the files harder.

You then caught the shit-eating grin upon his face, and marred your face in a frown, causing him to splutter into laughter.

“Stop laughing,” you spat, but that only made him more breathless. “Oh, I’m leaving!”

“No you’re not,” he rasped out, finally calming down.  He raised a hand across the chair before his desk. “You’re going to sit down and tell me of the proposals.”

A retort was on your tongue when you stopped, taking in his order. “Proposals?”

He cocked his head slightly, stray hairs tumbling with the action. “You said when you burst into my office that-”

He halted himself, everything falling into place.

When he focused on you this time, your stomach coiled at the way his smirk lit up his face. “Are you telling me you pretended to have appointments so you’d have that woman out of my room?”

The lack of response on his question had the man chortling. “My, my. Why so jealous, doll?” He gripped onto the arms of his chair, leaving the seat. “If you wanted me alone all you had to do was ask.”

Taking a step away from the desk, his fingers drummed on the table. “I wouldn’t have insisted on making an appointment either.”

A last surge of courage passed through you, especially from his words. “And what would you have done?” you got out.

The drumming paused, more from surprise at your question.

His piercing stare positively flared. “I don’t think you’d be able to handle it,” he guttered.

I don’t think you’d be able to handle it.

You didn’t know why that enraged you so much.

The cat and mouse game, once again being deflated by his words, leaving you disappointed. Why should you accept defeat this time?

You made sure he heard your thoughts.

“God, you really are a fucking prick!”

A pause. “Why would that be?” He took a step towards you, sharp brows furrowing.

“You…” staring at him, you screwed your face up in anger. “Toying with me all this time, yet doing nothing about it!”

That fine eyebrow was raised, but you carried on, refusing to let him speak. “Every single day, without fail, we see each other, bicker back and forth, and for what? Me all frustrated and you just enjoying it?”

You made sure you knifed your boss with a glare. “You just say words and leave. That’s all you can do.”

There was an eerie stillness after that — a slight shift in Minho’s demeanour, as his eyes narrowed, darkened at your claim. His hands, in his pockets before, slid out, and you saw they were fisted tightly.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me perfectly, sir,” you spat, that damned word he made sure you said every time . “You’re all bark and no bite.

“You’re a fucking coward.”

There it was.

The allegation against him. The words you’ve been wanting to say for so long, because you let yourself feel something for this man, and fuck, if he did not do anything about it you would quit this job here and now.

His next words were a mere whisper. They did not possess a hint of softness.

“Do you really think that?”

Another step.

Veins, slight before, we’re now more visible on his hands, trailing all the way up to the edge of the rolled up sleeves. When you caught his gaze, you nearly gasped at the pure, carnal fire that blazed within.

“Calling me a coward.”

Before you knew it, the man thundered towards you, and those veiny hands gripped your waist, pulling you to him in an iron grip. A small hiss escaped you at the sudden restraint.

“Don’t you dare call me a fucking coward again.”

His breath fanned your mouth, you mere inches from him. You made sure you kept your ground till the very end. Wherever that led you.

“Or what?” Your hands slid up to his shoulders. “Not like you would do anything. As per usual.”

And as the heavy silence reigned on the both of you, you had a little realisation.

Those words might have just been your undoing.

Because the second they left your tongue, Lee Minho growled fiercely before colliding his lips against yours.

His mouth snatched the very breath from you, an instant whine trying to escape yet refused by his lips, capturing yours and taking you with the strength of a wild beast. You nearly fell backwards from the pure momentum but were saved by his hands on you, branding their place on your skin.

The most surprising part was how you kissed him back with the same anger. The same rage which simmered the very first day you argued with him, and vowed to make his life a living hell, just like how he made yours unbearable during work. He captured your lower lip and began sucking on the flesh, and an obscenely loud moan escaped you at the contact.

The bastard was good. He was so, fucking good.

Just when you thought he’d go deeper, he pulled away, a thin bridge of saliva connecting the both of yours lips.

The trail broke when he took a step back, settling himself on his seat. That glistening mouth curved into a feline smirk, thumb stroking his lower lip.

“Still a coward, doll?”

You nearly collapsed without his hold. He took notice of your position, and scoffed at your weakness. “Looks like you took up the role instead.”

“How is that,” you rasped out, breath still uneven.  “When you’re the one who stopped to sit down?”

Taking a step before him, your knees brushed against his own. “Looks like grandpa needs a rest.”

The comment had Minho’s eyes set ablaze. “You fucking—”

His hands reached out, tugging you upon him as he stayed seated. Your legs kneeled on either side of him, straddling him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, willingly accepting his lips. They worked so hypnotically with yours that you did not realise them opening your mouth completely, with his tongue sliding inside. He explored everywhere, finding your own tongue and swirling it along with his, ruining any chance of you suppressing your groaning at his actions.

Perhaps Minho took notice of your stubbornness, because his hands landed on your thighs, fingers tracing the hem of your skirt. You let the groan free as he hitched the fabric higher, higher, higher, removing himself from your lips and descending down, pouncing on a particular patch of skin on your neck.

“Already so—” he sucked hard on your neck, revelling in your whines, “—already so loud when I’ve only just kissed you?”

“Fuck you,” you breathed out, digging his nails into his shirt. He cackled at your response, sinking his teeth and creating the first bruise of the evening.

“I’m gonna have to teach you some manners,” he whispered onto your skin, raising your skirt high enough that your intricate lacing of your lingerie, black as the night, began to show. Minho practically salivated at the image; you knew from the raging lining beneath his trousers.

“All talk,” you merely said, despite the uneven breathing. “All talk and no action.”

His thumbs pressed into your thighs, ceasing your words with a little whine. It had the man capturing your lips again, pulling you down with his hands on your legs, closing any distance between you two, needing to have you all over him. Your lips swelled, bruised by the rough handling of your boss’ mouth, ravaging you in ways you didn’t dare dream of. His fingers, trailing up your skin once again, curled under the waistband of your underwear.

Your heart hammered in your chest at his touch. He was being too slow, too damn slow while you dripped with the beginning of arousal, making you a shuddering mess.

Lee Minho was about to slide the lace down when a shrill call flooded the room.

Both of you stopped dead in your tracks. The man whirled to the origins of the sound, coming from his wide open laptop — a notification for joining a meeting call popped up on the screen, automatically picking up in about five seconds.

Your boss nearly had a heart attack.

With quick thinking, Minho pried you off him, practically dumping you upon the floor with a slight groan. His hands gathered you under the table, pressing a finger to your lips with a stern look before disappearing up on his desk.

You let out a deliberately loud scoff just before he accepted the call, fingers swiping down to pinch you for calling out. You could not see his face, only from the navel down, sat right before you, caging you with his legs.

“Ah, Mr. Lee!”

A gasp almost escaped you, but remembered his glare and actually stopped. One make out session and you already obeyed him like a servant.

Over your dead body.

Your boss’ low growl had you widening your eyes. “What do you want, Chan?”

The hazy answer revealed his employee’s concern. “Mr. Lee, are you okay?” You heard him say through the laptop speaker.

You saw Minho’s leg start bouncing rapidly, and although you could not see his expression, you knew that he was, most definitely, pissed off. “I’m perfect. Fantastic even. Now what do you want?”

You were ready to sit still, wait through the meeting as Chan’s uncertain voice spoke of some specific business deals that needed to be confirmed, few details that needed to be checked over. However, the way your arousal still dripped, ever so slowly, was a weight, reminding you of the activities occurring mere moments before. You didn’t even bother to pull your skirt down.

It was settled. You needed this problem of yours solved now, or never.

Fortunately for you, your solution was presented to you, right before your eyes, and right between Minho’s legs.

His cock still stood, erect against the lining of his trousers.

You gulped at the sight. The bastard was mean, flaunting it all before you, knowing you would have thrust it straight in your mouth if you hadn’t been interrupted.

A spark ignited within you. Why should it stop you now?

Oh God. Why were you suddenly becoming so bold? Was it you, being so turned on that you needed your needs met without wait? Whatever the reason, you found nothing to argue against it.

If Minho was playing games with you, then you would play along with him.

Hands stretching on the floor, you crawled towards him, settling yourself between the space his legs created. Kneeling slightly, your fingers extended towards the zipper on his trousers, prying it down.

The man stilled under your touch.

Head protruding from the edge of the table, you spied Minho’s eyes, ever so carefully darting down to you, his mouth parting slightly under the cover of his hand. He hummed at Chan’s words, but you knew his interest was rooted only to you and your daring fingers.

When you unzipped his trousers, ready to peel them down, his other hand, out of the sight of the laptop, caught your wrist. His grip dug into your skin, stopping you in your tracks.

You looked up at him, making sure you expose your desperation in your eyes. His own widened, only for a second before dragging them back on the screen. A smirk curved onto your lips, knowing he was so affected by your mere actions. How you dared to toy with your boss.

The pout-like expression paid off, when the grip on your wrist loosened. Hurriedly your hands went to the waistband of his trousers, pulling the fabric down, and you had to commend Minho’s ability to look so calm when you were practically drooling at the sight that welcomed you.

You did not even bother to pull the pants right down, stopping just under his knees as you admired his finely sculpted thighs. It was no secret that your boss worked out everyday after he was done with meetings, and every time you caught evidence of his toils you wished you didn’t inwardly moan at the sight. His taut muscle stretched all the way up to his underwear, slightly soiled at the tip of his dick, outlined against the fabric.

Minho glanced down for a second at his antics, and when he looked back at the laptop again there was a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

“Chan, hurry and finish this up,” he jeered.

This was enough signal to start peeling his boxers down too.

Your eyes nearly popped out of your sockets when you saw his cock spring free, curving proudly with its tip inches from his abdomen. The top glistened with the pre-cum, trailing down the length.

Oh dear God.

Your index, on instinct, reached out, cutting the white trail as you journeyed up the shaft. Minho’s low, barely audible growl had you shivering.

“Mr. Lee, you don’t look so well,” you heard the hazy worry of your coworker. You couldn’t help the giggle, and Minho’s side glare had you grinning.

He was not the one in control at the moment.

“I said I’m fine, Chan,” he snapped, and when you swiped up the remaining pre-cum on the head his dick twitched, a choked breath escaping. “Perfectly fine!”

“Uh, okay, then, this won’t take much longer…”

You, on the other hand, were just getting started.

Fingers, first stroking up the shaft, now wrapped around his cock, and with your heart in your throat you began a slow rhythm of sliding your hand up and down. Glancing up, you caught the colour of his face draining, using every ounce of his strength not to groan out loud.

You savoured the harsh tick in his jaw, quickening your pace and watched the man lose his cool, nerves in his neck protruding. Oh God, he was on the edge of his patience. It only encouraged your risky behaviour, dick hardening even more beneath your touch.

Still, there was no vocal outcry, to your irritation. You wanted to embarrass him during his meeting. Make him shut that laptop and moan out what he’s feeling. With these goals in mind, you cupped the base, and snuck a little closer, your face mere inches from his cock.

Taking one last peek at his paled face, you brought out your tongue and slid it along the head.

A soft groan emitted from your boss.

Chan’s monologuing of events paused, but the look on Minho’s face had him hurriedly continuing, while you progressed on, lapping up the remaining pre-cum you couldn’t catch with your index. You were never fond of the taste, but you took it in anyway, just to see the bastard’s mouth part in a way which had you almost leaking too.

Done with the soft, kitty licks, you hung on to your courage as you opened your mouth a little wider, taking in the head with your lips. Your hands stay wrapped around his cock as you, slowly, so slowly, went down, taking in inch by inch.

Minho’s fist smacked against the desk.

“Mr. Lee—”

“Ask me again, and you’re fired,” your boss guttered, hips sliding forward to push his cock further into your mouth. You nearly gagged at the action, but take it all in, obliging him because then you created a pattern of bobbing your head. Up and down, going easy, relaxed at first, you were sure Lee Minho was going to bring down his office.

But he didn’t.

And all because of that fucking meeting.

Suddenly angered, you did not bother fastening your pace, ready to give him blue balls for not reacting to your touches. Your mouth was back on top, lips still wrapped around the head, when you looked up at your boss through your lashes.

He stared down at you. Widened his eyes at the sight of you still enveloping his cock with your mouth, your gaze revealing the irritation of his lack of response.

Oh, he’ll give you something to work with.

His hand immediately when to the back of your head, stopping you from leaving as the other hand grabbed at the laptop screen.

Chan knew exactly what he was about to do. “Mr. Lee, I still have one more thing—”

You did not hear anymore, hearing the sharp SNAP! of the laptop shutting.

The silence returned, but did not stay for long as, gradually, Minho looked down at you, properly this time, and offered you such a lust-filled stare you were glad you did not leave your place upon his cock.

“Did you really think, doll,” he whispered, running his fingers through your hair, “That I was going to let you leave me? Just like that?”

You did not answer back — obviously, because your mouth was a little occupied, but you raised your brows at him, hands tightening at his base. He let out a shuddered breath, chuckling.

“Still a brat, hmm? At least you’re not talking back.”

He tugged harder at your locks. “If this was the way to shut you up, I would have done it a long time ago.”

Although your cheeks burned, you made sure to shut him up when you started your flow once again, closing your eyes as you went up and down on him.

Only this time, you had a little assistance.

Minho’s groaning roamed the room, like sweet music to your ears as you gradually fastened, working his dick with your hands too. Instinctively, the man bucked his hips into you, needing to have all of his inches in your mouth, needing to release all that pent up frustration that you created for him.

He said as much.

“Look at you,” he rasped up at you, curling away flyaways from your face as you worked on him. “Taking all of my cock…ah, all of my cock in your pretty little mouth.”

His filth was encouragement, and as you were sucking harder you could tell he was getting near. Pride washed over you, as your one of your hands reached out to play with his balls, earning a harsh moan from his lips.

“Ah—keep going, doll,” he rasped, his hips straying from a solid rhythm, knowing he’s going to let go soon if you kept up at this rate. “Doing so well.”

Perhaps these pieces of praise had you looking up, making sure he was watching as you hollowed your cheeks, taking him all in fully, a slight curve to your lips.

The absolute sin in the image of you kneeling before him, with his full length in you, had him crying out. He could not control the release that shot into your throat, pouring down and making you gag at its suddenness. Still, you took it all in, accepted the cum instead of spitting it out.

When he was finished, slightly heaving, his eyes danced at you slowly swallowing it down, a challenge in the quirk of your brow. Sweat beaded down at your forehead, but knowing you had Minho moaning over your skill was something to take pride in.

Lapping up the remaining cum, you swiped it off with the back of your hand. “Nice meeting, sir?”

The man could only laugh at your comment, so normal despite the situation. ”Adequate,” he drawled, pulling his boxers and trousers up as he cleaned off his dick. “But there’s still much to discuss.”

He wheeled his chair back, arms wrapping around you to free you from under the desk. You were glad of his help, for your legs were near-buckling. He noticed this too, for a smirk began to play on his lips.

Leaving you for a just a moment, he turned to his desk. He threw all his work off the top, paper and stationary flying from the table and scattering onto the floor. His laptop was thrusted at the ends of the table, unable to be a distraction.

“Hey, your papers will be all messed up,” you started, but he surprised you with a heart-searing kiss, making you almost collapse. You let his tongue slide inside instantly, hands gripping harder onto your hips as he tasted his release on your tongue, and when he roughly tugged on your lower lip, you gasped lightly at the harsh treatment.

He backed you further, the back of your upper thighs hitting his desk, and when he left your lips, his dark gaze had you weakened.

“I don’t really give a fuck about the papers right now, doll.”

You would have leaked out your arousal there and then. “Minho—”

“Did I tell you to call me Minho?” He demanded, fingers digging into your hips. Dazed, you tilted your head, only wanting his tongue down your throat again.

Catching the expression, he shook his head. “I’ll let you off today because you’re being a good little bitch this time.”

Dear God, you hated how you loved being called that.

His tongue working on your neck had you whimpering. “It’s sir to you, understand?”

You already had a counterpoint to piss him off with, but the animalistic threat in his eyes had you gulping. “Yes sir.”

The title had him going hard all over again. He teethed another hickey onto your skin, finding solace in the crook of your neck.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you all wet for me before, doll,” he whispered, hands sliding down, gripping the hem of your skirt. He hurriedly hitched it upwards, bunching it at your hips.

His fingers skimmed over your thighs before feeling the soft silk of your black lingerie, a familiar sight. “Ah, see?” His sole index traced over the front, dipping the fabric in your slit, already staining with your arousal. “All wet, just for me.”

“Stop it,” you whined, hands on his shoulders. “Stop teasing.”

“Since when do you order me around, ____?” He crowed, palming your clothed cunt, completely ignoring your demands. A ragged breath escaped you at the friction, so pleasurably wonderful you feared what would happen to you when he plays with you without the thin layer.

His attitude, however, still pissed you right off.

“I’ll be dried up by the time you start,” you seethed at him, nails digging into his shoulders. Provoking him was your only option, to get him to stop beating around and rail you on his desk.

“I don’t think so, doll,” he purred, other hand playing with the bands of your panties. You were about to snap when he hooked a finger over the hem of the lace and slid the underwear right down, just above your knee, and your breathing hitched as you found his gaze rooted to your now exposed cunt, already glistening from your arousal.

Minho’s mouth was practically salivating.

Despite the nerves growing in your belly, you still snapped him out of his mind drooling. “Are you going to just keep staring? Because that isn’t going to make me cum.”

His eyes slid to you, and shit, you could tell how much he wanted to beat your ass for your useless commentary. “Don’t make me shut you up again.”

“Talk, talk, talk,” you provoked, grabbing hold of his black tie.

A primal growl emitted from his throat, and when his fingers began skimming over the surface, you let out a whimper. “Oh, so my little doll wants to cum all over my fingers, then?” he muttered, eyes gleaming with an indecipherable goal.

His dirty words, along with him playing over your folds, had your stomach all knotted up. It was this tight feeling which had you breathing out, “Yes sir.”

The title at the end which had him slipping the first finger inside of you.

The feeling of his index sliding inside had you moaning much too loud for an action so small. Minho thoroughly enjoyed your reaction, finger almost fully inside when he palmed your core as well, already had you halfway there to your own undoing.

When his finger was up to the knuckle, his other hand found refuge in your locks, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your throat. He began to slowly pull out, creating the same gradual rhythm you had when your mouth was on his cock before. When only the pad of his finger was inside, he thrust back in, making you whine at the rush.

If that was not enough, a second finger joined in on his labour, stretching your walls and you hissed at the snugness of his digits in your cunt, continuing that pattern which had you crying out from pure ecstasy. Damn the bastard, but he was so good at making you helpless.

A deep feeling settled in your gut, and you knew if he kept up at this, you were going to cum all over him. “I-I’m close,” you got out, wrapping your hand around the tie further, pulling him even closer.

Minho, satisfied with creating a painting of lovebites upon your neck, locked your gaze with his. You were surprised to find sinister mischief in his eyes. “My babydoll is going to cum, now?” he questioned, further puzzled to hear softness in his usual fire-like voice. You nodded desperately, praying that he finger-fucks you after this calm. All you desired now was sweet release.

Which was why you cried out in protest when he slipped his fingers out entirely.

Your lust-hazed eyes looked at him, all wide. “Wh-what?”

The arousal-stained fingers gripped your thigh, a small yelp escaping you. The man’s other hand gripped your chain, making sure you don’t break his carnal stare. “You don’t get to cum unless I say so.”

You nearly sobbed as you felt your orgasm start to fade. You knifed him with a glare, pulling him a hair’s breadth from you with the tie. “What the fuck is up with that, sir?”

His grip on your chin tightened. “Don’t argue back, doll.”

The two digits were pushed inside you once again, and still, damn your senses, your breathing hitched. “If I see release on my fingers, I’ll fuck the orgasm up, understand?”

Although the nerves were back, you wished looks could kill when you stared at him. So he’s going to keep toying with you, then?

Well. Two could play that game.

You convinced him with a timid smile, wrapping your hand around his tie all the way. “As you say, sir.”

Delighted at your response, he struck up that hypnotic flow of his fingers, slowly pumping inside of you. Of course, you relished the way he worked within you, knowing he was waiting for the final cry when he hit a specific spot, but you had to show him your place.

Instead of moaning down the office, like you wished you would, your stubbornness silenced you completely.

Even when Minho fastened his pace, making it incredibly hard for you to stay rigid, you gave him a taste of his own medicine, not a single whine escaping you, just the way he stayed angrily quiet in the meeting. His tie was your only source of venting out your frustration, pulling on it so harshly you wondered how the man’s neck hadn’t given in yet.

A strange sense of hysteria bubbled within you when your boss noticed your silence. Snarling, he dug deeper, and when he hit your g-spot, your eyes nearly burst out of your sockets.

“Being a fucking brat again?” he retorted, fingers playing with the spot until finally, a soft whine came free of your tongue. “Trying to mock me?”

You took in a ragged breath, hair a mess, courtesy of his hand. You glared and glared, but still, you refused to say anything. Refused to say a word, and when you saw his mouth twist into a scowl you savoured his anger.

He ripped his hand from your tie, loosening it from his neck. He straightened it out, every action fuelled with aggression. It made your whole body crawl with excitement.

You parted your mouth to piss him off even more when you suddenly felt a mouthful of silk, completely stopping you. Trying to whine, the tie knotted behind your head, and Minho pulled so hard it nearly stopped your blood circulation.

“Didn’t want to moan, huh?” he guttered, tying up a pretty knot beneath your locks. “Tried to be smart, did you?

The tie wedged inside your mouth stopped you from answering back, Minho taking great satisfaction in your broken mumbling. “Oh, so you wanna talk now?” he mocked, slowly descending, until his face was at level with your cunt. He looked up, and the sight had you shutting up immediately. “No, we’ll play your little game.”

His eyes resembled a demon’s. “One fucking word from you and you’ll be sorry,” he warned, hands, now on your thighs, squeezing the muscle. The anger was so cold you only nodded erratically, fingers gripping the edge of the table.

Spreading your legs a slight, he closed the distance, tongue opening the seams and licking the surface.

You could not help the stifled moan which worked its way out the gag.

Retracting at your reaction, he glanced up, fingers digging into your skin. “Shut your fucking mouth,” he growled, trailing down your inner thigh. That command alone had you in near tears.

He didn’t wait for your incoherable answer as he dived right back in, tongue now licking your clit in a way which had you seeing stars, along with the added assault of his two digits pumping your core. He immediately found your sweet spot and curled his fingers, knowing you would melt right on his face.

Because the gag worked wonders in ceasing your words, you had to vent out your release through gripping Minho’s hair, pushing further, begging him to just let you cum all over his face. The man was a mean prick, though, and wouldn’t ever give you that satisfaction.

His fingers increased their tempo, in and out, and your orgasm was right on the edge, threatening to wash over you if he didn’t stop. You whined as much as you could this time, praying he understood what you meant, and not just you provoking him further.

You tried to curse yourself at how pathetic you were in that state, but you were honestly so fucked out you didn’t particularly care. All you wanted now was for Minho to ruin you.

The man, taking notice of your cries, paused his licking, fingers still at their thrusting. His eyes still up at your ravaged state, and you nearly undid yourself at the pure pride that shone in his gaze. “Does my little brat wanna cum all over my face?” he cooed darkly, and you could not nod fast enough, earning a husky chuckle from him.

“Will you talk back?” God, an even faster shake of your head, eyes glistening. “You better fucking not.” he sighed, blowing on your cunt which had you wailing into the silk. “Well, since the gag’s still on…”

He offered you a small grin, enough to drive you insane.

“Go on then, you fucking slut. Cum on my face.”

His mouth was upon your cunt in seconds, just in time for you crying out into the tie-gag as you released your orgasm, creating a mess of him as you spilled yourself onto his tongue, his chin, everywhere, barely avoiding the office floor. Minho slowed his pumping inside, eventually ceasing as he took in your release, pulling away.

You caught the slight spillage scattered on his chin, and he slid his tongue down, looking up at you with feline amusement. “All that bitching, and you still cummed,” he mused, soothing your throbbing with his fingers. “Still gonna call me a coward?”

He stood, his clothed hard on rubbing against your folds, and you knew you that despite the orgasm, you needed more. His mere fingers, however heavenly, were not enough.

His one hand cupped your head while the other tugged on the gag, pulling it down from your mouth. You coughed lightly at the freedom, desire swirling in your features still. “I…” you started, but your throat still hurt. “I…”

“Use you words, doll,” he ordered, unravelling the knot on his tie behind you. “God knows you use them too well.”

“F-fuck...you,” you rasped out, causing him to raise a brow.

“Still got attitude?” He traced his thumb over your cheek. “Despite you whining like a little bitch to let you cum?”

His hands left your face, sliding to your thighs as he gripped onto them, having you sit on the desk. He then moved down further, tossing your lingerie before wrapping your legs around his waist.

Leaning in, his chuckle tickled your lips. “Guess I’m gonna have to fuck the brat out of you.”

That alone would have had you moaning if Minho didn’t shut you up with a rough kiss, fingers sloppily unbuttoning your shirt. He sucked on your tongue, failing to take the shirt off, and with a harsh groan ripped the parting, buttons popping to the floor. He peeled the attire off you, dumping it with your panties, and when he pulled away, he took in your intricately laced bra, and his malice was replaced with pure, unadulterated lust.

“God, I’m going to ruin you, doll.”

You answered with capturing his mouth, nibbling on his bottom lip, his clothed boner creating friction against your inner thighs. His hands ravaged all over your exposed skin, while your own returned the favour, unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off. You ran your fingers up his abdomen, the granite solidity having you rolling your hips against him. Smiling against your lips, you felt his hands descend, gripping at the underside of your thighs before he lifted you up.

You gasped lightly, wrapping your hands around his neck as Minho, while leaving a trail of kisses down your neck, collarbone, tongue sliding along, turned around, your back to the full view of the nightlife of the city, revealed through floor length windows of his office all around. Walking towards it, he backed you up against the glass, the cold sending shivers down your spine. That, and Minho leaving core-shaking kisses upon your skin, as he began to unhook your bra strap, tearing the lingerie off you.

“Minho!” you exclaimed, when he planted his lips upon your bare breast, sole finger playing with the other. Hearing his name had him grinding against you, making you whimper.

He went up, erratic breathing entering your ears. “It’s sir to you,” he snapped, before diving back in on your breast, licking over your nipple so thoroughly that you felt that overgrowing need to release once again. Again, with the teasing, the playing, when all you needed was his cock to fill you right up.

“Sir, p-please,” you begged, your legs locked tightly behind him.

“Please what, doll?” he hissed onto your skin, one hand tracing your throat.

One more thrust of his hips and your eyes pricked with tears. “P-please fuck me, sir,” the knots in your belly growing.

“Finally,” he breathed out, thumbing your neck, softly compared to the hard on you were practically sitting on. “You’re not being a little bitch.”

One hand still clasped around his neck, you brought the other down to his trousers. Looking up at him, he almost softened.

“Now you’re asking permission?” he cooed, straying from your breasts. “Being a good girl for me?”

You never had an idea on how much that affected you. “Don’t push it,” you countered, a tired smirk still playing on your lips.

“Go on, doll,” he said, hitching you higher on the glass, moistening with the sweat beading down your back. “But I like you better when you beg.”

“Let’s see if you-ah!” you were cut off when you pulled his trousers down, and his cock tried to burst from his stained underwear, rubbing against your cunt much too deliciously. “Fuck me hard enough.”

“Stop running your mouth and pull my boxers off,” he ordered, and this you willingly obliged, careful of your leg-lock as you peeled them down to his knees, he getting them clean off. When his cock sprung free, you were salivating at the sight, angry red and ready to have it inside of you.

When he caught your blatant staring, he snapped his fingers. “Careful, or you’ll start cumming without my permission.”

Your widened eyes darted to him, and your lack of response had him actually laughing. “Already forgotten your words?” he mocked, fingers gripping your chin. “My babydoll is getting dumb staring at my cock.”

“Please, sir,” you murmured, locking your hands behind his neck. “P-please fuck me.”

Minho let out a pleasured sigh at your pleading. “As you wish, ____.”

Pressing his forehead against yours, he clasped his cock, directing the tip to your entrance, already staining the surface with its pre-cum. His other hand gripped onto your hip, steadying you against the glass, now slightly misted.

“Ready?” he asked, surprised to hear a little softness as he caressed your hip with his thumb.

You nodded against his forehead, parting your mouth. “Yes, sir.”

A little scoff escaped him. “Good girl.”

That was all he needed before he began the final descent.

His cock slid inside, and your breathing turned irregular as your walls stretched slightly at the intrusion. He went further and further, moving ever so slowly to let you adjust. Lord knows you needed to, when his dick was so big.

“O-oh my God—” you stumbled out, feeling as if the man had filled you right up to your gut when he was finished. You kept deathly still, fearing you might shatter if you even moved the wrong way.

“It’s okay, doll,” he reassured you, hand leaving his cock and settling upon your other hip. “Whenever you’re set.”

“I’m good,” you said, more scared that you would cum right onto his dick if he tried to move inside you. “Stop worrying and...and fuck me already.”

His thumbs pressed harder on your sides, a pleasured sting ringing. “Now I won’t regret it if you can’t walk after this.”

A ragged scoff escaped you. “We’ll see about that-”

Well, you really couldn’t when Minho began to pull out.

Your mockery was cut off with a shrill cry, hold tightening on him as his cock slowly slid out. The gradual process was so pleasurable you had to hold onto him for dear life, or you knew you would collapse onto the office floor. The man made sure that never happened, grip on your sides never slipping, pressing you against the warming glass.

“I’ve only just started,” he drawled breathlessly, still relishing how loud you were being despite him merely beginning. “Has my babydoll never been fucked before?”

You had, but never had anyone made you so weakened by a simple pull out. In fact, your sexual life was average at best, but you telling him that he would, by far, be the biggest mistake. He’s already got an ego the size of his cock - you were not going to inflate it any larger.

“H-have been,” you gasped out. “B-better even.”

That false claim had him knitting his brows in anger. He thrusted his dick right back in, and another whine choked out of you.

“Liar,” he spat, filling you right to the brim. “Lying to me when my cock’s inside you.”

God, the rage that filled his veins was pure ecstasy in your mind. Good, you thought, making sure you chuckled at him. Provoke him till he breaks you.

“H-he was so much-argh!” you just couldn’t get a word out when he began to pull out once more, Minho now attacking your neck with his lips, bruised patches of your skin as he started up a painfully delightful rhythm of pushing and pulling his cock into you.

“Go on, you fucking brat,” he snarled onto your throat, licking up the column. “Try and tell me there was anyone better.”

You were on to tell him, gloat breathlessly that there were all these obviously real people who had fucked you into oblivion, but when his fingers began to prod at your clit those lies were replaced with thundering mewls, nails digging into his back.

Fastening his pace, you rolled your eyes back, head hitting the glass. Minho, watching you, slammed his hips forward, hitching you upward with the sheer force of his cock and snapping you out of your haze, making you look at him.

“I asked you something, doll,” he demanded with rich sarcasm, fingers never stopping on your clit, nearly taking you over the edge. When the head of his dick hit a certain spot, deep into your core, you couldn’t even control the slight drool which trailed down your spit-slick lips.

Minho’s dark laughter only had the knots tightening in your belly. “Awww, my babydoll’s so fucked out she can’t even speak?” his mouth curled into a smirk. “Only a useless set of holes for me to toy with, aren’t you?”

You thought you said something, hopefully something to shut him up, but when your orgasm was right at the tip of your cunt you knew it was as the bastard said - useless.

As you predicted, Minho quickened his fingers on your bud. “Worthless fucking bitch,” he mocked mercilessly, practically branding you against the glass. With the sheer anger he fucked you with, you were scared the windows would crack. You wouldn’t put it past him.

“C-close, sir,” you finally got out, managed to formulate the only words you needed at that moment. Your boss, at this, only increased his pace of his erratic thrusts, practically decimating your cunt with his cock. You had a feeling among the lust-filled haze of your mind that he, too, was getting close, with the way his flow turned sloppy.

“And…” he took in a sharp breath. “And what about it?”

Oh, you knew what his last game was. Permission from him, pleading to let you spill your arousal all over his cock.

In any normal circumstance, you would have laughed at their face. Made sure they never asked something so atrocious.

Lee Minho, however, was another case entirely. Not when he was your lifeline, the only one in the universe who could save you from this impending doom. Even though he was the bastard who brought it down on you in the first place.

So you did what possibly no human being could ever ask of you.

You pleaded.

Practically begged to let you feel sweet release.

“Can I…” another soft cry left your lips. “F-fuck, please...can I cum?”

Minho imprisoned you with his gaze. Locks sticking to his forehead, mouth parted in desire, and pupils dilated, you still found him so utterly beautiful, despite the wilderness beneath. Found him even more so when he finally decided to show you some mercy.

“Go on, babydoll. Cum for me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Your vision nearly blacked out when you obliged, orgasm spilling out from the tight spaces between your walls and his cock, dribbling down your legs and dripping onto the office carpet. The sight of your spillage had Minho finishing off his own thrusts, releasing an earth-shattering cry as he barrelled his own release into you, ropes of cum spilling out of your cunt, joining your mess on the floor.

A slight peaceful stillness settled over the office, save for the both of you, breathing as if you had been underwater this whole time. Minho’s cock was still inside you, snug around your moistened walls. Slowly, he pulled it out, hanging limp from use, and your cunt felt hollow, emptier than it has ever felt before.

You unlocked your legs from his waist, immediately regretting the action when they gave out under you. Collapsing onto Minho, you were instantly met with his arms, holding you up.

“Careful,” he muttered, leading you to his chair, settling you down on the plush leather. He pulled his boxers up, along with his trousers, finding your own attire on the floor and placing it on your lap.

Smiling lazily, you started adorning your rather dirtied attire. “A good business proposal, no?” you mused, referring to your terrible excuse at the beginning of the evening.

Remembering, he chuckled, putting on his shirt. “I never bought that anyway, doll,” he merely said, buttoning to the top. “I knew you were jealous.”

Cheeks burning, you mumbled a little shut up, earning yourself a grin from the man. Finding your own shirt useless from Minho ripping it open, you said so to the man. “Look what you’ve done to my top”

He only spared it a glance before grabbing his tie, stained with your saliva. “Look what you’ve done to my tie.”

“That was your own fault,” you remarked, hoping your blazer would cover your front up. “You put the gag on me, prick.”

“Feeling brave already?” Minho purred, already putting you on a familiar edge. “Thought I’d fucked the brat out of you by now.”

Oh, he really did. He truly made you his little bitch not moments ago, and perhaps that would be rooted in you for the future.

But of course, you’re not going to tell him that.

You stood up from his chair, slipping into your heels. His eyes watched you as you walked to the door, opening it wide.

You looked back, catching something akin to wonder in his gaze.

“It’s going to take a little more than that, sir,” you declared, and left the room, closing the door behind you.

And as you prepared to leave the building, Lee Minho stayed rooted in his office, feeling his insides go wild all over.

It’s going to take a little more than that, sir.

Oh, God.

The man scoffed.

“Fucking brat.”

“I DEMAND TO BE LET IN!”

Once again, you rolled your eyes at Miss Kim, who was now adorned in magenta, long boots tapping against the marble floor.

“Mr. Lee is busy, Miss Kim,” you told her for the umpteenth time, refusing to believe that one seemingly intelligent woman, who had her own business, could be so thick-headed. “If you would just sit down—”

“You don’t tell me what to do,” she snapped, pointing an acrylic-painted finger at you. “I am a special client of Mr. Lee’s, and don’t need an appointment.”

You let out a sharp breath through your nose. It had not even been two days before she was back at the office, demanding Minho’s presence for the continuation of her meeting before you interrupted them.

A small smile caught onto your lips. Thank God you did.

“Hey!”

You perked up, brows instantly furrowing. “Miss Kim, just like the last time, I cannot help you. I can only give you entrance inside if you have an official appointment.”

Letting out a harsh laugh, she shook her head, wiggling the same finger at you. “Miss whatever your name is, I don’t like to have my time wasted, and you certainly are wasting my time. If I say I want to see Mr. Lee then you better damn well let me see Mr. Lee!”

Your mouth nearly opened to snap back at her when the glass door beside you swung open, and out stepped the CEO himself, who possessed the same irritation on his face as you did as he leaned his figure against the doorway.

“What is this constant racket?” he complained to no one in particular, and when his eyes fell upon his unofficial client he stopped. “Oh, good afternoon Miss Kim.”

“Mr. Lee, your little assistant is being difficult once again,” the woman declared, glaring at you. “She did this the last time I was here, and even when you let me in she’s doing the same thing again.”

“Oh, really now?” Minho got out. He turned to you, his dashing face exposing slight amusement at the claim. “Is that so, ____?”

You fought the urge to smirk at him. “She does not have an appointment,” you explained, spinning your pencil to avoid his searing gaze. “You told me only to let the people who’ve made appointments enter your office.”

Minho grinned for you. “That I did,” he confessed, eyes sliding to Miss Kim, whose smug smile faltered. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid the rules must be followed.”

The woman’s arrogance faded completely when the words left his mouth, finding herself defeated. “I see,” she said, still souring at the sight of you. “Well, I’ll phone up tomorrow morning.”

“You do that, Miss Kim,” he agreed, and watched as the woman turned on her heel, grumpily exiting the building.

The man found your eyes, and you saw them dance with mischief. You already felt your heartbeat pick up the pace when he walked over to you, planting his hands on your desk. “I need you inside the office, doll.”

Oh my God. “Whatever for, sir?” you asked innocently, trying to focus on your round of Solitaire, stark on the computer screen.

The table creaked underneath his fists at the title. “Let’s say it’s a…” he leaned in a little, careful of his employees beyond the hallway. His voice conveyed a slight husky tone. “A business proposal.”

Shivers crawled down your spine. Fuck him. Fuck him for bringing up your shitty excuse of two days ago. “I hate you,” you whispered harshly to him, despite the nerves.

His eyes never left you. “We’ll see about that when we start the meeting, doll.”

He stood straighter, opening his office door. “Now are you coming in?”

You studied the open door, the hidden opportunity that laid beyond. When you caught the growing lust in his gaze, you pressed your thighs together.

Standing up, you hurried to the doorway, earning chuckling from your boss. “Shut up, asshole,” you hissed, entering the fated office. Seeing the desk already had your cheeks burning.

“It’s sir to you, brat,” he only said, hands already on you as he closed the door.

[court-of-abs]

“Maybe Tomorrow” (Elorcan Fanfic) [Chapter 5]

Hey! Only two days late this time (Shhhhhh I know I technically promised last Saturday, but I promised Tuesday after my first delay so we’re going with two days late to make myself feel better, Ok? thanks lovelies) I’ve tagged everyone who has requested to be tagged below, and if you’re not on this list, and want to be, just comment on this post! I know my releases are sporadic and extremely late most of the time, so having me tag you may just be the best way to keep up with everything (or you can always turn your post notifications on for me. Either way, I’m not complaining ;) ). ENJOY DUCKLINGS!

Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

Tag List: 

@bibliophileinnightcourt @colbelike @bluephoenix222 @zorpher @high-lady-of-perranth @addled

“Good work today boys” Mr. A said, blowing his whistle to signal the end of practice. Lorcan hastily walked away from the group huddle, grabbed a towel off the bleacher railing, and wiped the sweat from his forehead as he made his way towards the locker room. It hadn’t been good work today, at least not for Lorcan. He’d been slow, careless. He’d messed up more plays in a single practice than he had in his entire football career, or at least it seemed that way.

It also seemed that the new quarterback wasn’t particularly fond of Lorcan and had made it a point to avoid passing to him at all costs. Lorcan wasn’t particularly fond of him either.

At least not since-

“Lorcan!” Fenrys called from behind him, causing Lorcan to turn his head. Fenrys and Connal jogged right up to him, slowing down once they had reached his side. “You ready for tonight?”

Fenrys, who, Lorcan realized, felt the need to be shirtless in just about every situation, was currently using his jersey to wipe off the sweat from his face.

“What’s tonight?” Lorcan asked, shaking his head at Fenrys’ choice of attire.

“Lorcan, you’ve forgotten already?” Fenrys said. He pushed his hair, which was free from its usual top knot, out of his face and swung an arm around Lorcan’s shoulder, or, tried to at least. Lorcan had almost a foot on him, on both of the twins. Lorcan shrugged it off immediately. “I swear just this monday you were complaining the black eye I gave you would prevent your future, hmm, how would you say it Connal?”

Fenrys looked past Lorcan to gain his brother’s attention on the other side of him. Connal let a slight smile play on his lips as he rolled his eyes and turned towards Fenrys. “Prospects?” he asked mockingly, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Yes, prospects.” Fenrys said, sending a look of pure mischief right towards Lorcan. “And would you look at it now, there’s barely any bruising left around your eye crybaby.”

Lorcan, stifling the urge to snap right back at Fenrys, groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. “God, that fucking party.”

Connal chuckled.

“Yes, that’s the one” Fenrys said, a smile dancing on his lips.

Connal looked up at both of them, his eyes darting away to avoid both of their gazes. “Are you sure we should go? You know it’s at Aelin’s house this ye-”

“Maeve says we’re going, we’re going” Lorcan said, pinning Connal with a look that had him hanging his head again in an instant.

Fenrys chuckled. “Don’t worry, brother. I’ll make sure the fire breathing bitch doesn’t burn you.” Lorcan let a smile form on his lips, but Connal only shrugged and kept his head down.

They had reached the locker rooms at this point, and Connal walked straight into the locker room without even noticing that his two companions had strayed just outside the entrance.

“Does Maeve have a game plan yet?” Lorcan asked, grabbing Fenrys’ shoulder and preventing him from entering the locker room. It pained him to ask, he hated when people, and Fenrys of all people, knew something he didn’t. But he swallowed his pride, as difficult as it was, and continued anyway. “I know she wouldn’t just show up to Aelin’s house without a plan.”

Fenrys’ face scrunched up in confusion, “Not that I’m aware of. And besides,” Fenrys continued on, his brows furring deeper, “wouldn’t she tell you first? You’re her second, as she likes to say.” Fenrys’ eyes relaxed and a smile grew on his lips once more. He was all Cheshire cat as he said “ And given that you are completely and utterly in-”

Lorcan grabbed Fenrys’ by the shoulders and shoved him up against the side of locker room entrance, lifting him off the ground and leaning in so close that he could smell that horrid cologne Fenrys always had, trailing him everywhere. Not even a damn workout could cover up the stench.

“What were you going to say?” Lorcan’s voice was so low and so guttural that every word sounded like a growl. It was almost indecipherable.

“What?” Fenrys said, clenching his jaw and fighting against Lorcan’s grip. “Worried Connal will hear? Don’t worry, I’m sure he won’t mind if you get with her instead. He can’t stand her half the time any-” Lorcan bared his teeth at Fenrys, silencing him in an instance.

“What ever revelations you think that you’ve made, boyo, keep them to yourself” and with that Lorcan dropped Fenrys onto the ground. Fenrys rolled his shoulders, rubbing along the skin that Lorcan had been pushing up against just moments before.

Just then, the rest of the football team began walking into the locker room. Some turned towards Fenrys and Lorcan and gave them a low whistle or a quick wink before laughing to themselves and entering the lockers. Lorcan only realized just now how close they were, him towering over Fenrys, and Fenrys a mere inches from his face. Fenrys’ constant mischievous glare returned, and he merely winked at Lorcan as he sauntered away and high-fived one of the teammates, following them into the locker room.

Lorcan ran his hands through his hair and let out a sigh. Was he really that obvious? He couldn’t be. Fenrys was just observant, always had been. It was one of the reasons Maeve had brought him into their group.

It may also have been the reason she took him into her bed, as well as her brother.

But Lorcan could barely string two thoughts together at the moment, could barely even comprehend what this could mean for him now that Fenrys, and possibly others, knew how he felt.

Did Maeve know how he felt?

Lorcan turned towards the locker rooms and was met with two piercing green orbs, two pine-green eyes.

Rowan Whitethorn.

The two did nothing, just starred, both refusing to back down. Both refusing to look away.

But Lorcan, Lorcan was done with thinking right now. So he stormed right past Rowan and his “#3” Quarterback jersey, and went into the locker room.

“You stole a book?! And you’ve kept it for nearly A WEEK!” Aelin exclaimed, her jaw practically touching the floor as she gaped at Elide and pointed an accusatory flat iron towards her.

“Well, no, I mean I’m gonna give it back” Elide said, her voice small despite the urge to laugh at Aelin’s outburst. “The library was about to close and I was so tired that I just walked out with it. I accidentally shoved it in my bag as I was getting up to leave.”

Lysandra’s eyebrows shot up and she started laughing at Elide almost immediately after her confession. Manon, the ever heartless Manon, even had a small smile on her lips as she scrolled through her phone.

“You are going to give that back, today” Aelin said, waving her flat iron at Elide as she did so. Lysandra had yet to cease laughing, and Aelin only rolled her eyes at her friend before turning her attention back to Elide.

“I know, I’ll go right now” Elide said, already sliding off Aelin’s bed and making her way across the bright pink carpet and towards the bedroom door.

Lysandra, currently lounging over Aelin’s purple bean bag, shot out her leg, a gleaming black heel adding an extra extension, and stopped Elide from exiting. “No you don’t, the party is in less than an hour, and you’re not done getting ready.”

Elide swallowed. “But I-”

“Lysandra she stole a book. A-” Aelin, still using her flat iron as a pointer, gestured to the overpacked bookshelves lining the wall across from the bedroom door, “BOOK.”

Lysandra only raised her eyebrows at Aelin, refusing to back down. “She’ll return it tomorrow.” Lysandra raised her eyebrow further to accentuate her point.

“We’re doing campaign planning tomorrow” Manon interjected cooly, her gaze still locked on her phone. It was the first comment she’d made all afternoon.

“Then she’ll return it sunday.” Lysandra said.

“Library is closed sunday too.”

“Since when?”

“Since labor day weekend existed.”

“Well then she’ll return it monday.”

“Monday is labor day.”

“Tuesday then.”

“Tuesday we’re campaigning after school, unless her majesty” Manon side-glanced at Aelin, “decides to change that last minute too.” Elide could of sworn Aelin grinned at herself in the mirror as she continued straightening her hair.

“Wednesday, then, she’ll return it wednesday.”

“Wednesday is-”

“She’ll return it the next freaking time she goes to the library” Lysandra yelled, groaning loudly, plopping back into the bean bag chair, and throwing an arm over her face.

Aelin covered her mouth with her free hand, stifling a laugh the best she could. Manon let another smile creep onto her lips. Elide made a silent note to not try and best Manon. Maybe she just shouldn’t even try to talk to Manon.

“You little shits will be the death of me” Lysandra mumbled out, throwing her other arm over her face. Aelin still looked on the verge of laughing, but she turned back towards her vanity mirror and continued straightening her hair.

“Why are your parents not here tonight?” Elide asked, curiosity coming over here.

“Some farewell dinner for my father, I think. It’s his last term and all, and they wanted to do it now before the election gets even more heated than it is.” Aelin said, her focus still on her hair.

“I think my uncle’s going to that” Elide said, more to herself than to Aelin. But she knew Aelin had heard her.

“Manon” Aelin said, watching her reflection as she brought the straight iron through her shoulder-length blonde hair. Manon raised an eyebrow, still refusing to break her focus away from her phone. “Do Elide’s makeup, won’t you?” Manon sighed and rolled her shoulders, finally tearing her gaze away from her phone.

“Fine” Is all she said as she rose from the bed, her sleek ponytail falling down to her hips, and walked towards Aelin’s three-person vanity. She began pulling various boxes and objects out of Aelin’s several makeup bags. Half of the contents were currently spewed across the vanity, almost completely covering the bright blue surface.

“Your makeup collection is almost as bright and as messy as your room” Manon said, not a hint of emotion in her voice.

Aelin turned towards her and winked. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Manon, choosing to ignore Aelin’s response, analyzed the contents in her hands and then turned towards Elide, fixing her with a stare and raising an eyebrow to signal Elide to come over. Elide obeyed, making her way over to Aelin’s vanity and taking a seat in the chair next to Aelin and closest to the door.

“Now Elide,” Aelin started as Manon began inspecting Elide’s face and  searching through the contents in her hands once more, “what are we going to do about your outfit.” Elide shifted her gaze towards Aelin, finding her now on the other side of the room by Lysandra and sifting through plethora of clothes in her closet.

“Are we thinking… daring” she said pulling out a dangerously low cut v-neck and handing it down to Lysandra, “sexy” Aelin pulled out a crop top now, so cropped, that Elide thought the underside of her boobs were guaranteed to peek out, “or confident.” Aelin pulled out a black mini-dress. It was form fitting, and as she turned the back around to inspect the rest of the garment, Elide saw that it also would bare her back. Her entire back.

Aelin handed the two other garments to Lysandra and turned back towards her closet. But before Elide could see more, Manon yanked on her chin, bringing Elide’s attention right back to her.

“Don’t. Move.” She gritted out, grabbing for the concealer and going to work on Elide’s face. From her peripheral Elide could see Lysandra inspecting each garment and glancing over at Elide occasionally. Aelin continued searching through her closet, leaning back every so often to inspect it from a farther away.

“I’m not sure” Lysandra said, tossing the garments next to her so that they now resided on the floor, along with a good portion of Aelin’s other clothes. Elide attempted to shift her gaze towards them, but Manon merely yanked on her chin again, bringing Elide’s gaze right back to Manon’s.

“Or…” Aelin said, digging in the closet now with more fervor than before.

“I like the sound of or” Lysandra purred, rising from the beanbag chair and making her way over to Aelin.

Elide couldn’t see what they pulled out of the closet, but by the squeals that Lysandra emitted and the whistling from Aelin, she determined that they had found something-

“Daring, sexy, and confident. Elide, you’ll thank me later” Aelin said. Unable to fight looking away any longer Elide turned her head towards them, earning a string of curses from Manon.

“You’ve ruined the eyeliner.” Elide’s chin was yanked back once more, and Manon was so close to her face as she spoke that Elide could feel the warmth of her breath. “Move again, and watch what happens. Just watch.” Elide swallowed and didn’t budge again.

Once Manon had finished her makeup and finally permitted her to move away, Elide turned towards Aelin and Lysandra to find the both of them giving her roguish grins.

“The makeup looks amazing, as always Manon.” Aelin commented, stealing a glance towards Manon as she spoke and then turning right back towards Elide, that grin still in full control of her features. Elide now realized one of her hands was behind her back, hiding the garment she was to wear that night no doubt.

“Elide, tonight you are everything you think you can’t be. You are the Elide Lochan you are scared to be.” Lysandra tilted her head and looked Elide over. She turned towards Aelin and nodded. Elide brought her gaze over to Aelin as well, a knot forming her stomach and permanently tying itself as Aelin brought her hand out from behind her back, revealing the outfit she was to wear.

Manon, of all people, Manon let out a laugh louder than any of the ones they had let out earlier today. Elide could barely move, her jaw set in permanent gaping as she stared at their choice for her.

Aelin seemed to notice the hesitation, and her face softened a little bit. “If it really makes uncomfortable, we understand. No peer pressure.” Lysandra, however, was mouthing “say yes” so conspicuously that Elide could barely contain her laughter.

It was… nothing like Elide had ever worn.

But maybe she should try something else tonight, be someone else tonight.

So Elide closed her mouth, swallowed down her fear, untied the knot in her stomach, and nodded.

That was all Lysandra and Aelin needed as they rushed towards her to get her ready for the coming night.

Two hours later and the house was packed, literally packed. As Elide pushed through the crowd of people to make her way towards the kitchen she couldn’t help but compare the atmosphere to that of the lunch room. It seemed that school followed her wherever she went. Everyone packed together, so closely that personal space had been forgotten for the entire evening, and the music and conversation so deafening she was half-tempted to cover her ears as she walked by the speakers blaring out the electronic beats.

The kitchen was no better, but Elide needed to find Aelin, and after asking several people, most of whom were too drunk to even answer her, she was finally directed to the small living room that was directly adjacent to the kitchen.

She was glad she decided not to drink tonight. With the atmosphere, she wasn’t really sure what would've happened if she decided to drink.

Not that she had ever even taken a sip of alcohol before.

“Elide!” Lysandra whooped from the couch. She was currently standing on the top edge of the couch with Aelin, swaying her hips to the beat with one hand around Aelin’s waist and the other holding an empty bottle of wine.

“Get down before you fall!” Elide shouted over the music and rushed towards the two. Lysandra giggled and Aelin joined her. Elide looked around frantically for anyone to help her, but it seemed like someone was already keeping an eye on them.

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch them if they fall” Rowan said from the other side of the couch. He was watching both girls twirl around on the edge of the sofa, a fierce determination set in his gaze.

“Didn’t you try to get them down?” Elide asked, still reaching out for Lysandra and Aelin’s hands, but they moved away from her, sticking out their tongues and even daring to jump up and down on the top edge of the couch with the music.

Rowan chuckled, low and rugged. “trust me, I tried. But once you get to know these two, you’ll realize that they don’t let anything and anyone get in the way of what they want to do. No matter how crazy it is.” His gaze never left them as he spoke to her.

The music seemed to grow even louder then, her eardrums on the verge of bursting.

“How are the cops not already here shutting this down?!” Elide shouted, her voice cracking as she tried to shout over the music.

Rowan tilted his head. “Didn’t you drive up here? Her house is a good ½ mile from the main road and there aren’t any neighbors within a 5 mile radius.”

Elide felt all kinds of stupid. She’d marveled at the trees lining the dirt road up to Aelin’s house, Aelin’s oak-wood mansion with dark blue shutters and french windows and cherry trees and rose bushes and the stone fountain depicting Mala Firebringer. And, gods, the sense of escape it must offer. They could blast the music three, four times louder and no one would even notice.

Perks of being the president’s daughter, Elide guessed.

“Oh god, how much did those two drink!” Dorian said as he came up behind Rowan. His arm was cast lazily over Chaol’s shoulder, his other hand shoved into his pocket. Chaol only rolled his eyes and, if Elide wasn’t mistaken, leaned into Dorian’s touch a little more as Dorian directed them both to the chair opposite the couch that Aelin and Lysandra were currently dancing on.

“I’m betting that Lysandra drank that whole entire bottle herself” Dorian said, and Lysandra only bowed at him before returning to her dancing with Aelin. Elide sighed and moved away from the two, settling into the chair opposite Dorian and Chaol.

And then Dorian’s eyes turned towards Elide and they almost jumped out of their sockets. Chaol startled at the movement and turned towards Elide as well, his eyes flaring at her appearance as well.

“What on earth did Aelin make you wear” Dorian said, his mouth gaping.

“Doesn’t she look HOT” Aelin shouted from atop the couch edge, and let out a stream of giggles.

Uncomfortable was honestly more like it. Her previous confidence to try the outfit was practically gone at this point. Aelin and Lysandra had fit Elide into a black, very low cut bodysuit that left the back completely exposed and had so many cutouts along the sides that Elide thought it was a miracle nothing had peeked out yet. The shorts Aelin had given her to wear barely covered her butt. Barely. It was definitely a mix of daring and sexy, but Elide wasn’t really sure that the confident element was really there. That may have been partly because, right now, she had a lack of it.

“It’s just, I wouldn’t expect you of all people to wear something like that” Dorian claimed, his mouth still ajar.

“Hey! What makes you think that you know who she is and what she wears and-” Lysandra’s declaration started out strong but faded out as she began to slur her words. Dorian put up his hands in defeat and slung his arm back over Chaol’s shoulder. Aelin laughed and jumped down from the couch, landing on the ground as gracefully as a cat. She turned towards Rowan and gave him a goofy smile before leaning up to kiss his cheek and plopping down onto the couch. Lysandra soon followed, and Rowan, finally content that neither of them were in immediate danger, sat down next to Aelin on the couch.

“Where’s Manon?” Elide asked, turning her head around looking for the white-haired girl. Manon, to shed in her in a somewhat good light, had done Elide’s makeup extremely well. Bold, but not too bold. Nothing like her outfit for the night.

“Probably off somewhere making out with Asterin” Chaol replied, his arms crossed over his chest and his face bored.

Dorian snorted and buried his face in Chaol’s neck. Lysandra and Aelin giggled at Chaol’s comment and Rowan rolled his eyes, simply pulling Aelin closer to him as she let the fit of laughter take over her body.

“They think they’re being SO sneaky!” Lysandra exclaimed, laughter still reverberating through her body.

Just then, a long whistle with an abrupt cut-off was sounded and repeated, by the guests. Some of the party-goers even turned towards where Elide was sitting, seeking out Aelin’s gaze and reiterating the short tune until Aelin had met each of their stares and nodded.

“Good lord” Dorian said, putting his head in his hands. Chaol even had the sense to replace his bored look with one of annoyance, and a loud groan escaped Lysandra’s lips.

“What’s happening?” Elide asked, leaning forward in her seat a little more. Aelin closed her eyes for a moment and then turned towards Elide.

“That’s the signal my guests have to give me if they show up. It’s the only rule I have at my parties.”

Elide furrowed her brows. “When who shows up?”

Rowan turned towards Elide then, his usual hard demeanor now seemed as tough as obsidian as his eyes met Elide’s and he spoke.

“The Cadre.”

[notepadramblings]

Let’s talk about rats!

So in ditching inspiration, i may as well pick something i know and love to talk about! Is this post going to be poetic? Hell no! Informative? Maybe! Fun? Sorta. Long? God yes! Rats! Rattus norvegicus - the fancy rat are the ones I’ll be chatting about, especially in relation to owning them as pets.  The most important thing to know about pet rats is that they are highly sociable animals and live in pairs or larger groups called a Mischief (which, if you know rats, you’ll find is a rather appropriate term!). While yes, they can bond deeply with their humans, there is nothing like the companionship of their own kind. When keeping rats, it is advisable to do so in same-sex pairs or groups to eliminate the chances of breeding. A doe can have 4 babies or 13 depending on her lineage and if mated too young this can have serious health implications for her as well as raising the chance of losing the litter; the babies can then mate with each other, or with mum, at only 5 weeks when sexing them is still difficult for most amateurs. Most pet shops will therefore refuse to sell a male and a female together to promote responsible ownership. An adult male rat can weigh up to 600g, with their female counterparts only weighing up to 500g at a healthy weight. Boys tend to become more sluggish with old age and gain an appreciation for cuddles, whereas girls tend to stay more adventurous and active; that being said, the exact opposite can also be true! Males have particularly large testes relative to the size of their bodies, which a lot of prospective rat owners find off-putting, but that is the only significant visual difference. Male rats also produce a substance called buck grease that is a hormonal excretion. This leaves little oily marks in their cage where they spend a lot of time, and causes their coat to be rougher than a female’s. Some people can be allergic to this substance. Any group of rat (male, female, mix of both, neutered or un-neutered) will have some degree of social hierarchy, so it is expected that they will tussle to establish and maintain it. This often includes violent grooming behaviours, shoving each other out of comfy places and screaming loudly at each other although no physical contact is being made. This is normal and healthy! The only times when an owner may need to be concerned by the group dynamics of their rats is when one or more is ill or physically hurt. If a rat is truly upset with their companion they can and will bite to injure, at which point separation is the safest option for all involved. If one rat feels threatened or bullied, even without injury, they may become ill. This could include weight loss from being bullied at feeding time, or a respiratory infection due to the stress causing a mycoplasma flare up (more on that later).  Integrating rats or groups of rats is very possible! A lot of owners start with a pair and end up adding a few more same sex companions to their mischief over time. This can be beneficial to a pair of rats who aren’t particularly fond of each other , or to provide an older rat whose partner passed a friend. A larger mischief lessens the blow of deaths as each rat who is left has companions to mourn with; a lone rat mourning can fall into depression and pass soon after their cage mate, especially in old age. This can of course be avoided if their human(s) spend a significant amount of time comforting them with cuddles or play or their favourite food, but it is a harsh reality many of us have to face. The introduction of rats remains pretty uniform no matter the age, sex or number of rats. However, the most successful introductions tend to be when adding younger rats to the mischief, as adults tend to be exceptional uncles and aunts! (Mums will even share litters in breeding situations, or even take on a whole new litter that’s been abandoned by it’s true mother!). Mixing neutered males and females also tends to be more successful as they are naturally inclined toward opposite sex matches (for breeding) in the wild. Introductions must be slow, or over several sessions, and in neutral territory as rats are very protective of their home environments. Ideally, said territory should be confined so they are forced to interact with each other but easily accessible to the supervising human in case of violence.  Be aware that the larger the mischief, the larger the cage you must have for them! While this seems obvious, as a pet shop clerk myself, i find there are many people who simply do not make that connection. One rat should have 2 cubic feet of space to his or herself at a minimum that you can fill with hides, hammocks, toys and enrichment. My general rule when advising on cage size is to get as large as you can afford and as large as you can fit in your home. A cage is an investment, as your rat is going to spend its whole life in there. Also be realistic! How available are you to let them out of the cage? Someone retired who can spend more time with them free roaming is more likely to need a smaller cage than someone who works 9-5 with kids to look after. A cage should be crammed with things for the rats to do while you’re not about. Plenty of hiding places for comfy sleeping arrangements or times when they need to get away from each other, they love being high up so utilise that space with hammocks or hanging tubes or toys, as well as ground-dwelling chews and toys. Rats enjoy toys small enough to be picked up, as they can carry them around the cage as well as home made treat-hiding toys such as a biscuit wrapped in paper in a toilet roll tube, and they can even learn to open simple boxes if there’s something yummy inside! Nesting materials should also be in abundance, scattered around the cage as well as in bedding areas provides them something to do as well as plenty of extra warmth if they need it.  Free roaming or out of the cage time is another huge part of owning rats. These guys need a surprising amount of exercise as well as constant mental stimulation! Rats thrive when let out of the cage to explore and forage and run for long periods, they even have a happy run-jump called popcorning when they’re in a happy or playful mood! Some rats love chasing cat toys or being chased and wrestled by their humans hands, and others are content to sit on your shoulder or snuggle in your jumper - this is all enrichment. Most of the bonding with your pets happens during free roam time as well as opportunities for training. However, before letting your rats run free, you must make sure the space is rat-appropriate. If allowed a whole room, wires must be tucked away and protected, hidey-holes must be blocked off and any precious belongings should be kept elsewhere; rats have a destructive streak and there is nothing more attractive than ripping wallpaper, eating wires and peeing on important documents! Free roam can also include having a sofa or a bed to run around on, maybe even with some tunnels and toys placed on it for that extra interest, the key is that it’s somewhere to play that’s not their cage. Early stages of getting to know each other are a crucial stepping stone during the bonding period with your rats and set you up for trust in the rest of your lives together. It can be absolutely intimidating, but one thing to always keep in mind is to respect their boundaries. As with any animal, if it has teeth, it can bite you, so not respecting them can be painful. Hell, get a human angry enough and they’ll bite you too! In the wild, rats are prey animals which means generally their “fight or flight” instinct leans toward flight, which is why you will find nervous or young rats tend to be more skittish than violent. As a rule, rats do not want to hurt you, they just really want to get away, and sometimes biting the person preventing that from happening is the most logical thing for them to do. Keep in mind, though, that they also figure a lot of stuff out with their teeth because their eyesight isn't very good, so a gentle “hmm, are you food?” bite is nothing to be afraid of. Because their eyesight is so poor, a giant open room is intimidating for them, let alone with an unfamiliar person in it so try to keep bonding in a small area, or start by simply introducing your hand to their cage. This also lets them smell you and learn your scent, rather than trying to identify a big blurry blob. Treats are a great way to tell your rats you’re friendly, but a finger being chomped instead of the treat you’re holding isn’t uncommon amongst owners, so be cautious at first. When picking up your rats for the first times, make sure they have an escape, so they understand you are not keeping them there against their will (or, you know, going to eat them). Keep introducing yourself for short durations on a frequent basis so you don’t stress them out, and they’ll figure out how lovely a human can be. They may not speak in any of our languages but our little furry friends are constantly communicating with us through their body language. A stressed out ratty can be cowering, highly tense, perhaps sitting on its haunches, making a high pitched scream, or tucking it’s back end into a corner. This rat should not be approached directly as they will feel attacked and are likely to lash out, a rat with its mouth slightly ajar is definitely going to bite. An offering can be made to coax them out of that position, but a hand that enters the space they are occupying is an unwelcome guest. An angry rat has their fur all fluffed up to look big and scary, and (especially if directed at another rat) will be moving in a direction leading with its bottom. A happy rat will be audibly bruxing, which can sometimes be so intense that their eyes wiggle (called boggling)! They might also quiver, and many rats will groom you by licking and gently nibbling at your skin. A playful rat is going to be bouncing along instead of walking or running, often doing so very quickly, and might even gently nip you to instigate hand wrestling! A boy, or sometimes girl, that urinates a tiny dribble on your skin is marking you as theirs, too. Rats can live on average for 3 years, and in that time there are several illnesses that can affect our little friends. The most notable is respiratory. All rats carry a bacteria called mycoplasma that sits dormant in their bodies until aggravated by stress and/or other health issues. This bacteria opens the door for secondary infections particularly in the lungs. Thus, rats with any form of respiratory issue (which they are prone to due to the presence of the bacteria) are at further risk of it developing into a more serious issue that can cause permanent damage if recovered from. Respiratory issues can also come with ear or eye infections as they are all connected by the sinuses. Rats are rodents, which means their teeth are open rooted and constantly grow. Generally they maintain the length of their teeth on their own through bruxing, or teeth grinding, but in the case that their teeth do not grow straight, this is not possible. Teeth that grow waywardly can cut the inside of the rats mouth and cause abscesses, as well as on their own making it too uncomfortable for them to eat, causing weight loss. Unfortunately, they are also at risk of external parasites. Fleas, lice and mites are the most common parasite that can plague rats although their origin is rarely ever known; such tiny bugs can travel to our pets on the back of store bought bedding, food or toys. Some rat owners will freeze all incoming produce before giving it to their rats for this reason. These skin invaders can cause bald patches from either scratching or over grooming, as well as anaemia in the case of blood-suckers. In terms of wounds, rats in general heal extremely quickly, so small shallow cuts are not a cause for concern unless an infection forms. Then in old age, many rats fall to cancerous growths. Some can be successfully removed, but there is always a risk of it either growing back or your ratty not doing well under anaesthetic.  Rats are hoarders!!! So when you feed your animals don’t freak out if they empty their bowl in 10 minutes. You will find that their food is stashed in their bed or their litter tray. They need constant access to fresh water, and fresh fruit and veg can be added to their diet as enrichment and to bump up their vitamin C intake that helps with the immune system.