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mercvry-glow · 3 months ago

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Busy Bee

parings. jack abbot x wife!reader

summary. you and your son take a trip to the pitt after an encounter with a bee. unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, your husband's working.

warnings. age gap (jack mid/late 40s, reader late 20s early 30s), reader is allergic to bees, overprotective!jack, boy-dad!jack, typical hospital setting, no death, hurt/comfort but mainly comfort, other pitt characters, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. local boy dad truther hopped into the pitt fandom, but this popped into my mind and I haven't been able to let it go. these will probably be a set of drabbles and one-shots if it gets enough traction, but please enjoy and any feedback is appreciated! also I am not a medical professional, but I tried my best to sound realistic.

wc. 2700+

side drabble of the aftermath

part two: where we fit

“We got a woman in her late twenties to early thirties, went into anaphylactic shock at the park due to a suspected bee sting. Vitals stabalized after we gave her Epi, but the swelling in her throat and the hives covering her chest, neck and arms is pretty extensive.”

Just another normal day in the Pitt.

“It is starting to be that season,” Dr. McKay said lightly as she did her own assessment while a few interns watched, “Did she have anyone with her? Who called?”

The EMT gave a small gesture to her partner who was walking in behind them with a small boy, maybe five or six, who looked worried. “Couple of joggers passed them and found him with her failed EpiPen, they called after that.”

Cassie could only nod as she thought about her own son experiencing that, “Alright Mohan come with me we’re gonna take her to south-15. Mel, can you talk to the boy and see if there’s anyone we can call for him?”

Going to their respective tasks, McKay and Mohan took the young mother and Melissa went to introduce herself to the boy. He was still standing with the EMT, clutching his hand tightly while watching the hustle and bustle that was the emergency department.

“Hey… Can I talk to him?” Mel approached slowly and the EMT squatted down to look the kid in his eyes. “I have to go now but uh- Dr. King here is gonna take really good care of you while your mommy gets help, okay?” The boy just nodded, going to hold his own hand.

“What’s your name?” Mel asked, offering her own hand for him to take as they walked away. His grip was soft, if not a little clammy, and he toddled behind her as she led him to the family room. “Lucas…” he took his own deep breath, unsure of himself and the situation.

“I heard something pretty scary happened at the park. Are you doing okay?” Lucas gave a little shrug, giving her hand a squeeze at the mention of the incident at the park.

“I think so, is my mommy gonna be okay? Daddy says bees are bad for her, and the pen is supposed to make her better but it didn’t...”

Mel opened the door to the family room, having Lucas sit in one of the chairs near the small coffee table. She had learned in the past couple of months that children liked to be distracted in situations like these. Clearly the little boy was feeling down, his once peaceful day at the park now ruined by an unfortunate accident.

She sat down beside him, helping him take off the backpack he was wearing hoping maybe there were some more identifying clues lying within the blue cloth. “Well your dad must be very smart, but your mom is being taken care of by some really cool doctors and I think she’s gonna be okay and excited to see you again.”

Unzipping the bag, Mel gave Lucas a gentle smile as they pulled out the contents together. Inside were the usual kid essentials — a juice pouch, a small sketchpad with dinosaurs drawn in crayon, and a pair of cleats and matching socks balled up and forgotten at the bottom. She sifted carefully, searching for anything that might tell them who else to contact. A pair of car keys sat in the front pocket, but no wallet or any other identifying placards. The EpiPen sat visibly in the mesh side holster, unadministered and effectively useless now. The air was light between the pair while the Intern thought of her next moves, and Lucas had started coloring next to her to keep his mind off of things.

She thought about askin Robby or Dana for next steps, and definitely wanted Kieara to stop by. “Are we able to contact your dad? I’m sure he’d want to know what happened,” Mel said, stumped at what to do next.

“He’s pretty busy and um- his number sheet is in my other bag in the car… Mommy was supposed to make two, but this is the fun bag so it wasn’t supposed to matter.” Lucas explained, though that’s fair considering he’s only five or so.

“Oh! Well where does he work? We could try calling them and he should be able to come here,”

Lucas closed his eyes and wiggled around in his chair as he tried to remember the name, “Uhhh- oh Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center!”

Mel’s eyes lit up at the mention of the very hospital they were in. “Well that’s where we are! Let me go grab someone real quick and we can start asking around, how does that sound?” Lucas silently agreed and went back to coloring as the blonde woman left the room.

The Intern succuried around, hoping to find Dr. Robby in a moment of peace where she could talk to him about the situation. Thankfully, the older man was sitting near the nurses station typing away at one of the computers.

“Dr. Robby! I uh- I have the son of a patient who was admitted not too long ago, he said his dad works here and I was hoping you could help us locate him? He’s only about five so he doesn’t remember too much besides that.” Mel stood expectantly, as the older man got up and pushed his chair in.

“Lead the way Dr. King, let's find this boy's dad.” Robby ran a hand down his face as he followed after Melissa who was leading him to the family room. Putting on a brave face, he hoped to god this wasn’t going to lead into a hospital wide manhunt. They kept a steady pace, pausing outside the door. “What was the other patient admitted for?” He asked, needing to know if this would be bad or not.

“Mom was taken to South-15 after experiencing anaphylactic shock from a bee sting. The uh- EpiPen failed and some joggers helped them out, Dr. McKay was trearting her and everything was stable when we left besides the swelling and hives she had.” she explained keeping her recounting of it short, really wanting to find Lucas’s father as soon as possible.

The two stepped inside the small room, the young boy sitting in the same cramped chair, picking at the sleeve of his sweater.

“Hey, Lucas. This is Dr. Robby he’s gonna help-” Mel could barely get the rest of her sentence out before the boy looked up and rushed into the arms of the man beside her.

“Uncle Mikey!” he cried out, latching onto the older doctor who scooped him up.

“Hey Luke, what are ya doing here buddy?” Still a bit shocked, Robby gave the boy a quick scan looking for any sign that something could be wrong, “I heard your mom got stung by a bee.”

Lucas let out a small sniffle, resting his head on the shoulder of his uncle. “It was scary… an-and mommy left her phone in the car so-so I couldn’t call anyone!” He kept his little body close, fists locked onto the blue hoodie Robby was known for wearing. He was still scared, just now beginning to process everything that had happened in the past hour or so.

Mel stood off to the side, letting the two talk amongst themselves for a few moments. “You know Dr. Robby, Lucas?”

The pair turned to her and Robby adjusted the boy so he could see the woman a bit better. “Dr. King meet Lucas Abbot, I’m surprised he didn’t say so sooner-probably the nerves.” The older man looked down to the boy who was still clinging to him, the only familiar person he had seen since arriving to the PTMC. “You wanna go find your dad?”

Lucas nodded a resounding yes, keeping his face buried in the neck of the older man hoping he would keep carrying him.

“Dr. King, I got it from here if you want to go back and work,” Mel took her leave after that, giving Lucas a small wave goodbye before going back into the fold.

Robby set the small boy down, repacking the scattered items back into the bag. He tried not to think about the faulty EpiPen, or how Jack was going to react upon finding out what had occurred. If anything that man was protective, and if hearing that his wife had been admitted didn’t set him off—hearing his son was here and hadn’t been able to contact him definitely would.

“Yo Dana, we have a visitor with us today.” The brunette gave the curls on Lucas’s head, a trait he got from his father, a small rub, as they got to the charge nurse’s attention. The blonde let out a small gasp as she bent down to give the boy a hug.

“And what are you doing here, little man? Where’s your mama? Your Dad’s running all over the place today, have you seen him yet?” She looked back up at Robby, holding the boy close.

The older man gave a small shake of his head, a knowing look in his brown eyes. “She’s uh- She’s in south-15 and we were actually looking for Jack, have you seen him?”

Dana glanced at the board, “He was about to discharge a patient from north-8, you could probably catch him before the next Ambo pulls up.”

“Alright, buddy,” Robby said, offering his hand to Lucas again. “Let’s go find your dad before he disappears on us.”

Dana gave the boy one more quick squeeze and a wink before standing up again. “Tell him to take five once you find him. He’s been running around since before you got here.”

They made their way toward the north wing, weaving between carts and stretchers, the bustle of the hospital constant. Lucas stayed close, wide-eyed but silent, clutching Robby’s fingers like a lifeline.

As they rounded the corner near North-8, Robby spotted him—Dr. Jack Abbot clipboard in hand, shoulder leaning into the doorway of a patient room as he gave discharge instructions with that familiar composed intensity. Even from here, Robby could see the stress around his eyes. Whatever calm Jack projected, it wasn’t rooted deep today. The patient stepped away into the crowd of people and Robby stepped into view, catching his eye.

Jack nodded a little when he saw him, expecting a routine update—until he saw the small figure beside him.

“Lucas?”

The clipboard hit the counter with a clack.

Lucas let go of Robby’s hand and ran straight into his father’s arms, the impact knocking the breath out of Jack for half a second.

“Hey—hey, what—” Jack crouched down, holding Lucas tightly, searching his face. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Lucas clung to him like a koala, cheeks red and eyes glassy. “Mommy’s sick,” he whispered. “The pen didn’t work. I tried, but it didn’t work.”

Jack’s face paled. His arms tightened instinctively. “Where is she?”

“South-15,” Robby answered quietly, giving the man a moment before continuing. “It was a bee sting. The EpiPen failed. She was treated right away, vitals are stable, McKay’s with her.”

Jack didn’t move at first, just held his son close, forehead resting against Lucas’s curls as he processed it all—the sudden fear, the guilt, the helplessness. Finally, he let out a long breath.

“I didn’t even know—no wonder she wasn’t answering her phone.” His voice cracked.

“She’s okay,” Robby reminded him gently. “And your son? Absolute champ. Kept his head until the crews showed up.”

Lucas pulled back just enough to look at him. “I didn’t cry. I was gonna, but I didn’t.”

Jack smiled through the tightness in his chest. “Good job, bud.”

He stood up slowly, Lucas still in his arms, and turned to Robby. “I need to see her.”

Robby nodded. “Go on, Brother. I’ll let Dana know what’s going on, let her know you’re clocking off early.” He handed over the backpack and let the father/son duo head off.

Making their way to you, where you were taken was a bit more private than other rooms and the soft beeping could be heard from outside. The two stopped outside, Jack prepping the boy for what he was about to see.

“Hey…So mommy’s probably gonna be sleepy and she might have a hard time talking okay? We should be able to see her though.” Lucas nodded into his dad’s shoulder, his small fingers tightening around the fabric of Jack’s black scrub top.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I won’t be loud.”

Jack gave a little smile at that, brushing his son’s curls down gently before reaching for the door. The soft click of the handle felt louder than it should have, and as they stepped inside, the familiar scent of antiseptic mixed with something heavier—like adrenaline and the memories embedded within the room.

The room was dimly lit, with only the overhead light above your bed on. You were propped up slightly, eyes closed, an oxygen cannula under your nose. Your arm had an IV line, and Princess was quietly making notes on the monitor screen.

Jack’s breath hitched in his throat.

Lucas didn’t say anything right away. His gaze was locked on you, his brown eyes wide and unreadable as he stared at his mom, so happy and full of life only hours ago, now tucked into white sheets with wires and machines surrounding her.

“Mommy…” he whispered.

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound, sluggish but aware. You turned your head slightly, the movement slow and pained, but unmistakably focused on him.

Jack stepped closer, kneeling beside the bed so Lucas could see you better.

“She’s awake,” Jack said softly. “You can say hi, baby.”

Lucas’s lip trembled, but he leaned toward you. “I’m sorry,” he blurted suddenly. “I tried with the pen but it didn’t work and I was scared and I couldn’t call—”

Your fingers twitched and slowly reached for him, and Jack gently helped guide Lucas’s hand to yours. Holding the both of yours within his strong grip.

“You did so good, baby,” you said, your voice hoarse but warm. “I’m okay, and you were so brave.”

Lucas crawled gently onto the edge of the bed, careful not to bump into any of the cords or wires. He curled up beside your arm, still holding your hand tightly.

Jack sat in the chair beside the bed, rubbing his face and finally letting out a shaky breath.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he said quietly, half to himself, half to you. You gave him a tired smile, and Jack reached up to brush your hair from your face.

“But you’re here,” he said. “And we’re okay. That’s what matters.”

“Yeah, you’re lucky we weren’t closer to Pres, would’ve really lost your shit…” you gave him the best smile you could muster, while he gave you a knowing look.

He let out yet another sigh, still keeping your hand in his. “We need to get you another EpiPen, and put my goddamn number in that park bag.”

“You have fun with that, babe,” you murmured, voice still rough but tinged with just enough sass to draw a soft snort from Jack.

“Oh, I will,” he said, dragging the chair a little closer to the bed. “You’re gonna have a laminated emergency list in every bag we own. Backpack, baseball bag, glove box—hell, I’ll sew one into your damn jacket lining if I have to.”

Lucas perked up a little at that, lifting his head. “I can start baseball?”

Jack looked over at him, mock-serious. “Only if you promise not to spill a bunch of stuff in the bag again.”

Lucas giggled for the first time since they got there, that tiny sound easing something deep in Jack’s chest. You chuckled too, though it ended in a soft wince as your ribs reminded you what happened.

Jack leaned forward instinctively, hand pressing lightly over yours again. “Easy,” he murmured.

“I’m fine,” you reassured, but your grip on his fingers said another thing.

I love you, I’m sorry.

The room fell into a quiet rhythm after that—the soft hum of monitors, Lucas gently dozing off against your arm after hours of turmoil, Jack watching both of you with an expression halfway between exhaustion and fierce devotion.

“Thank you,” you whispered after a moment, just for him.

He looked up.

“For having such good doctor friends, for loving me… For being a good dad,”

Jack leaned in, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Always.”

mercvry-glow 2025

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hoshifighting · 1 year ago

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— Synopsis: After years of being Mr. Choi's personal secretary, you had become accustomed to the dynamics of working closely with him. However, fate had brought about a change – Mr. Choi's son, Seungcheol, would now be taking over the company. Unbeknownst to you, Seungcheol had harbored a secret crush on you for years. — WC: 8k — WARNINGS: Smut, mentions of collapsing, blacking out, burn-out, teasing, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f. receiving), cock riding (pro-riddah), 'jealousy', all types of moans and whimpering, crush confessions, creampie, reader is mentioned as 'noona' sometimes.

You started at the company fresh out of college, eager to make your mark in the corporate world. Landing an internship and apprenticeship seemed like the perfect opportunity to kickstart your career. But from the beginning, it was a whirlwind. The partners and directors barely acknowledged your presence, treating you as if you were invisible.

Their dismissive attitudes fueled your determination to prove yourself. You worked tirelessly, absorbing every bit of knowledge and skill you could. Despite the frustrations and challenges, you persevered, determined to make your mark.

Then, when chaos descended and problems arose, suddenly you were thrust into the spotlight. Issues that had been brewing for months seemed to land squarely on your shoulders. It was as if your colleagues had only just noticed your existence, expecting you to magically solve all their problems.

But you didn't falter. Instead, you faced each challenge head-on, drawing upon your education, experience, and sheer determination. With each obstacle overcome, your confidence grew, and your colleagues began to take notice.

You hit the big leagues when you stepped into the role of a top executive, becoming the right-hand person to Mr. Choi, the company's director. From picking out his ties to scrutinizing private contracts, your responsibilities spanned the spectrum.

Every single morning, like clockwork, you'd hop into your car with a casket of coffee and croissants for Mr. Choi. Strutting into the office in your killer heels and impeccable attire, you were ready to make an impression, especially during those crucial meetings where you stood by Mr. Choi's side.

Being Mr. Choi's right arm wasn't just about fetching coffee; it was about being his trusted confidante, advisor, and problem-solver, all rolled into one.

"Y/N, can you schedule a meeting with the board members for next week?"

"Absolutely, Mr. Choi."

"Y/N, can you prepare a presentation for the investors' conference?"

"I'll have it ready in no time, Mr. Choi."

"Y/N, can you liaise with our international partners regarding the new partnership agreement?"

"Of course, Mr. Choi."

"Y/N, could you buy a birthday gift for my son?"

"I'll take care of it, Mr. Choi. "

"Y/N, could you book a reservation at that new restaurant for my wife's birthday dinner?"

"Consider it done, Mr. Choi."

Your life was a whirlwind, with the constant ticking of the clock mirroring the click-clack of your heels wherever you went. Tension hung heavy in the air, creeping up your neck like a suffocating scarf. Dark circles under your eyes were a testament to the countless nights of poor sleep, hidden only by layers of concealer slapped onto your face.

Cups of coffee became your lifeline, keeping your eyes wide open until you finally collapsed onto your bed at night. It was a relentless cycle of hustle and grind, each day blending into the next in a blur of meetings, deadlines, and demands.

Despite the chaos of your professional life, there was a silver lining: the bills were paid, and then some. Your salary exceeded your wildest expectations, causing whispers among your coworkers about just how much you were making. But Mr. Choi never wavered in his support, always quick to defend your worth and affirm that you deserved every penny.

He'd extend invitations for you to spend time with his family, insisting that you join them at their summer house. You'd seen his family at various company events and dinners, and while you appreciated the gesture, you couldn't shake the feeling of intruding on their private time.

So, respectfully, you always declined, preferring to maintain a professional boundary despite Mr. Choi's insistence一Even though he wanted you to choose even the color of his ties.

On another typical day in the office, you meticulously scheduled a meeting for Mr. Choi, gathering his collaborators for an important discussion. As usual, you stood faithfully by his side, your sharp heels elevating you to eye level with the top brass.

The room was set, and you watched as the group filed in, taking their seats around the sleek glass table.

But something caught your eye—a figure among the usual faces. It was Seungcheol, Mr. Choi's son, entering the room. It was a rare sight to see him at these meetings, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity.

What struck you even more was the watch adorning Seungcheol's wrist. It was the Audemars Piguet timepiece that Mr. Choi had asked you to purchase for his birthday last year.

You remembered selecting it based on your own taste, so seeing Seungcheol wearing it filled you with a sense of pride. It was a small validation that your choices were appreciated, even by the boss's son.

As Mr. Choi began the meeting, you were right there by his side, ready to assist with whatever he needed.

"Good morning, everyone. Thank you for joining us today," Mr. Choi began, his voice commanding the attention of the room.

You quickly handed him a folder containing the agenda for the meeting, making sure everything was in order.

"First, let's review the progress on our latest project," Mr. Choi continued, flipping through the documents in the folder.

"Of course, Mr. Choi," you interjected, pulling up the relevant slides on the screen for everyone to see.

As the meeting progressed, you anticipated Mr. Choi's needs, fetching him water when his throat grew dry and passing him important documents without skipping a beat.

"As some of you may know, over the past few months, I've been dealing with some health issues," Mr. Choi continued, his gaze sweeping across the room. "And after much consideration and consultation with my doctors, I've come to the difficult decision that I need to take some time away from the company to focus on my health."

Silence fell over the room, the weight of his words sinking in. This was unexpected, and you could feel the tension in the air.

Then, as Mr. Choi's eyes met yours, you saw an understanding dawn in Seungcheol expression. Everything suddenly clicked into place—the presence of Mr. Choi's son at the meeting.

Then, Mr. Choi continued, "During my absence, I've decided that my son, Seungcheol, will be stepping into my role temporarily."

All eyes turned to Seungcheol as he rose from his seat and bowed respectfully. You couldn't help but feel a sense of uncertainty, but Mr. Choi's next words put you at ease.

"And I have full confidence in both Seungcheol and Y/N," Mr. Choi declared, gesturing towards you. "Y/N will be assisting the whole team, and Seungcheol in any way necessary during this transition period."

You lifted your head, meeting Seungcheol's gaze as he nodded at you. Despite any doubts you may have had, you knew that Seungcheol was capable. You had seen glimpses of his dedication during family dinners, noticing how he would often excuse himself to study, for example.

After the meeting, you found yourself alone with Mr. Choi in the conference room. He looked at you with a gentle expression and asked, "Y/N, why do you seem so worried?"

You offered a small smile, trying to mask your concerns. "I didn't know your health had gotten this bad," you admitted softly.

Mr. Choi returned your smile, his eyes filled with understanding. "I kept it under wraps as best as I could," he said reassuringly. "But I'm confident that everything will be fine, especially with you and Seungcheol at the helm."

Just then, Seungcheol entered the room, and Mr. Choi's attention shifted to his son. "Seungcheol, Y/N will be here to keep you in line," Mr. Choi teased with a grin. "If you step out of line, she has my permission to pull your ear."

Seungcheol chuckled shyly, his eyes meeting yours briefly before he nodded in acknowledgment.

Mr. Choi raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. "Well, she's the best secretary anyone could have," he remarked, his tone teasing. "If she ever decides to leave because of you, consider yourself dead."

You couldn't help but laugh at the exchange, appreciating the camaraderie between father and son. "I'm not going anywhere, Mr. Choi," you reassured him with a smile. "You're stuck with me for the long haul."

The days following Mr. Choi's announcement were a fuss as you attempted to navigate the new dynamic with Seungcheol in charge. You found yourself juggling multiple tasks, trying to prioritize and triage everything so that Seungcheol could acclimate to the heightened demands of his new role.

Despite the added pressure, you remained steadfast in your routine. Each morning, you meticulously dressed, ensuring every detail of your attire was perfect. You prepared Mr. Choi's favorite coffee and croissants, just as you had done for his father every day.

One morning, as you placed the casket on Seungcheol's desk, you noticed him peering up from his papers with a furrowed brow. "Why do you bring me coffee every day?" he asked, his tone curious yet slightly perplexed.

You paused, taken aback by the question. Tilting your head slightly, you replied, "I did this every day for your dad."

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "Did my dad ask for this every day?" he inquired, his curiosity piqued.

You nodded in affirmation, but before you could say anything else, Seungcheol interjected. "You don't need to do that," he stated firmly, shaking his head.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off. "Seriously, you don't have to go out of your way for me like that," he insisted, his expression earnest.

You paused, considering his words for a moment before nodding in understanding. "Alright," you acquiesced with a small smile, realizing that perhaps Seungcheol's management style was different from his father's.

As the days passed and the workload continued to pile up, you found yourself working late into the night, long after your scheduled shift had ended. Massaging your temples, you stared at the glowing computer screen, the soft hum of the office, the only sound in the empty building.

Glancing up at the clock, you realized with a start that it was already 10 p.m. The realization made your shoulders sag with exhaustion, but you knew there were still tasks that needed your attention.

Looking around your office, which was nestled within the boss's office and separated only by glass walls, you noticed that the rest of the building was deserted. The departments were dark, their lights extinguished for the night.

As the first rays of sunlight filtered into the office, you blinked in surprise, realizing with a jolt that you had slept at your desk. Glancing at the clock, which now read 6:00 a.m., you felt a surge of panic course through you. You couldn't believe you had let yourself fall asleep at work.

Quickly, you sprang into action, rushing to the bathroom to wash your face, brush your teeth and try to salvage your appearance. Splashing cold water on your face, you hoped it would help wake you up and banish the grogginess that clung to you.

With shaky hands, you reapplied your makeup, doing your best to hide the signs of exhaustion that lingered beneath your eyes. You knew that going home to freshen up wasn't an option—there was simply too much to do and not enough time.

"You're early, Ms. Y/N," Seungcheol's voice cut through the early morning haze, causing you to startle slightly. You managed a small smile in response, trying to mask the fatigue that weighed heavily on you.

As Seungcheol looked you up and down, you couldn't help but feel self-conscious under his scrutiny. Quickly, you averted your gaze, feeling the tension in your shoulders from the uncomfortable position you had slept in.

Without a word, Seungcheol settled behind his desk, and you seized the opportunity to slip out of the office. The ache in your back served as a constant reminder of your less-than-ideal sleeping arrangements.

Heading to the nearest coffee shop, you hoped that a strong cup of coffee would help invigorate you and shake off the lingering exhaustion.

With the reports prepared the night before, you and Seungcheol led another meeting, this time with the financial team. You entered the conference room together, your demeanor professional despite the weariness that still clung to you from your sleepless night.

Seungcheol took his seat at the head of the table, and you sat beside him, ready to support him in any way you could. As the meeting progressed, you found yourself immersed in the discussion, your mind racing to keep up with the financial jargon being tossed around.

However, amidst the exchange of numbers and projections, you couldn't help but notice Seungcheol's occasional glances in your direction. Each time his eyes met yours, you detected a hint of scrutiny, causing you to wonder if he had noticed your exhaustion.

Desperately trying to maintain your focus, you clenched a pen in your hand, using it as a reminder to stay alert and engaged. But despite your efforts, you could feel your energy waning with each passing minute.

As the meeting dragged on, you found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Your eyelids feels heavy, and you struggle to keep your thoughts coherent. All you wanted was for the meeting to finish so you could finally rest and recharge.

As the meeting drew to a close and the team members began to file out of the conference room, Seungcheol rose from his seat, gathering some papers from the table. You followed suit, clutching onto the edge of the desk for support as you struggled to maintain your balance.

Seungcheol noticed your unsteady demeanor and furrowed his brow in concern. "Y/N, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you managed to reply, your voice barely above a whisper. But even to your own ears, the words sounded hollow and unconvincing, the effort only served to make your head spin even more.

But as Seungcheol's voice grew louder and more alarmed, it felt as though his words were merely echoing around your head, distant and muffled, you realized just how drained you truly were. The room seemed to spin around you, struggling to keep your balance, you fought to stay on your feet.

The last thing you saw before darkness enveloped you was Seungcheol's panicked expression as he rushed forward, his arms outstretched to catch you before you hit the ground.

He shaked you as his figure blurred and distorted as your vision faded, and then everything went black, the sound of rushing blood pounding in your ears.

Slowly, consciousness began to seep back into your mind, accompanied by the soft murmur of voices and the gentle beeping of medical equipment. Blinking groggily, you struggled to make sense of your surroundings.

As your vision cleared, you realized you were in the nursery, surrounded by the sterile white walls and the comforting hum of medical machinery. And by your side, sitting in a chair with his head bowed, was Seungcheol.

His presence brought a sense of calm to the room, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude toward him. Despite the strain of his new responsibilities, he had stayed by your side, ensuring that you were taken care of.

You tried to speak, but your throat felt dry and scratchy. Seungcheol must have sensed your movement, because he looked up, his eyes widening in relief as he saw you awake.

You tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over you, forcing you back against the pillows. Seungcheol placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, urging you to rest.

"You collapsed during the meeting," he explained, his voice filled with worry. "They brought you here to rest. The doctors said it was exhaustion."

"Exhaustion? I-" you began, but before you could finish your sentence, Seungcheol cut in, his arms crossed firmly over his chest.

"I saw on the cameras that you slept at your desk," he stated matter-of-factly, his tone tinged with concern. "I noticed becqause you're still wearing the same clothes," Seungcheol added, his tone gentle but firm.

You felt your cheeks burn even hotter at his observation, wishing you could disappear into the floor. The thought of him noticing you using the same clothes from the previous day filled you with mortification, and you struggled to find the right words to respond.

"I... I didn't have time to change," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of exhaustion and embarrassment settled heavily on your shoulders, and you couldn't bring yourself to meet Seungcheol's eyes.

"You need to take better care of yourself, Y/N," he said softly, his concern evident in his eyes. "I saw you working for my dad for years, and I know how demanding he could be."

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat at the mention of Mr. Choi. Memories of late nights and early mornings spent tirelessly working flooded your mind, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for letting Seungcheol down.

"But I also know that you can't keep pushing yourself like this," Seungcheol continued, his voice filled with empathy. "You're human, Y/N, and you have limits."

Seungcheol's gaze softened as he looked at you, concern etched into his features. "Y/N, do you remember the last time you took time off?" he asked gently, his voice filled with genuine worry.

You hesitated, feeling a pang of guilt as you realized that you couldn't recall the last time you had taken a break. "Um... I'm not sure," you admitted quietly, your gaze dropping to the floor.

Seungcheol glanced at his watch, his expression thoughtful. "Well, you don't need to work for the rest of the week," he declared, his tone firm yet compassionate.

Your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden announcement, your mind racing to comprehend what he had just said. "But there are still conferences," you protested weakly, rising from the bed with shaky legs.

Seungcheol shook his head, his eyes meeting yours with determination. "I'll handle the conferences," he insisted, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You need to rest, Y/N. That's an order."

You opened your mouth to protest further, but the exhaustion that weighed heavily on your shoulders silenced you. With a sigh, you nodded in reluctant acceptance, realizing that perhaps Seungcheol was right—you did need to take care of yourself.

Despite having time off, your body remained accustomed to waking up at the same early hour as your workdays, thanks to the relentless consistency of your alarm. Each morning, you would groggily switch off the alarm, only to fall back into the comforting embrace of sleep for a few more precious hours.

But something changed during these days off.

Just as you used to bring coffee for your boss, you found yourself receiving a basket of breakfast at your door every morning, each one bearing Seungcheol's unmistakable calligraphy. Instead of the usual croissants and coffee, the baskets were filled with a colorful array of fruits, a healthier alternative that he seemed to insist upon, instead of his dad.

"Fruits are way more healthy than croissants… - Seungcheol."

[...]

Your phone rang unexpectedly in the early morning hours of your last day off, jolting you awake from a peaceful slumber. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you answered the call, greeted by the voice of Joshua from the Human Resources Department.

"Hello?" you murmured, still groggy from sleep.

"Hi, Y/N," Joshua replied, his voice hushed as though sharing a secret. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

You shook your head, sitting up in bed and giving your full attention to the call. "No, it's fine. What's up, Joshua?"

"I just wanted to let you know," Joshua continued, his tone serious yet tinged with amusement, "Seungcheol asked all the departments to give you some space and let you rest during your time off."

You felt a surge of gratitude towards Seungcheol for his thoughtfulness, but your gratitude was short-lived as Joshua's next words caught you off guard.

"However," Joshua added, a hint of mischief evident in his voice, "he's struggling a bit with managing everything himself. I caught him pacing back and forth in his office for the past few minutes."

You couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image of Seungcheol pacing anxiously in his office. "I'll take care of it," you assured Joshua, determination seeping into your voice.

"Great," Joshua replied with a laugh. "I'll leave you to it then. Enjoy the rest of your day off, Y/N."

As you confidently strode into the building, the weight of the archives in your hand felt oddly reassuring. Despite the lingering fatigue from your days off, you felt a renewed sense of determination as you navigated the familiar halls in your high heels.

The glances from your coworkers didn't go unnoticed, their surprise at seeing you back at work evident in their expressions. You could almost hear the unspoken question hanging in the air—shouldn't you be at home resting?

Lost in his thoughts, Seungcheol snapped out of his trance as he caught sight of you through the glass walls that separated his office. His eyes widened at the unexpected sight of you, and you offered him a small bow as you approached.

Pushing open the door, you entered his office, the determined set of your shoulders belying any trace of uncertainty. Seungcheol watched you with concern, his normally impeccable hair tousled and his lips worryingly bitten.

"You shouldn't be here," he stated, his voice tinged with worry as he took in your appearance.

You simply smiled in response, pressing the archives into his chest with a sense of purpose. "We have work to do," you replied firmly, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. "Do you want my help or not?"

Seungcheol's lips parted slightly, his cheeks flushing with a hint of embarrassment as he processed your words. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded shyly, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yes," he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude and relief.

[...]

As Seungcheol sat alone in the dimly lit office, surrounded by the quiet emptiness of the building, a sense of clarity washed over him. He had been so determined to prove himself capable, to show his dad—and you—that he could handle the responsibilities of running the company on his own. But as the days passed and the chaos of the company threatened to overwhelm him, he found himself feeling lost and unsure.

Now, as he looked around at the neatly organized piles of contracts, the meticulously scheduled meetings, and the completed spreadsheets on the computer screen, he finally understood why his dad had always relied on you so heavily. Despite your youth, you possessed a rare combination of competence, efficiency, and dedication that made you indispensable to the smooth operation of the company.

Seungcheol couldn't tear his eyes away from you as he watched from the other side of the table. The soft glow of the computer screen illuminated your face, casting shadows that danced across your features as you worked diligently.

Your unbuttoned white shirt and raised sleeves hinted at the long hours you had put in, while your hair, now gathered in a messy bun, spoke about the intensity of your focus. Despite the exhaustion that lingered in the lines of your face, there was a determined set to your jaw, a resilience that shone through even in the late hours of the night.

Seungcheol marveled at the sight of your manicured nails flying across the keyboard with practiced precision, effortlessly organizing the digital archives with a speed that left him in awe.

Seungcheol let out an exasperated sigh, his frustration evident as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you with guilt. "I feel terrible," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. "You shouldn't have had to resolve all of these problems. I took you away from your day off, and now you're stuck here dealing with all of this mess."

You couldn't help but smile at the poor boy, his sulky expression only serving to make him appear more endearing. "Hey, it's okay," you reassured him, your tone gentle as you reached across the table to place a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm already feeling better, thanks to you."

Seungcheol's expression softened at your words, a flicker of relief crossing his features. "I just wish I could have handled things better," he confessed, his voice tinged with self-doubt.

You shook your head, dismissing his concerns with a playful grin. "Well, you did leave fruits at my door," you teased, unable to resist poking fun at his earlier gesture of kindness. "So I'd say you're doing just fine."

Seungcheol couldn't help but let out a chuckle, his usual professional demeanor momentarily slipping as he made a lighthearted comment about your near fall earlier in the day. "Man, you were this close to eating floor," he quipped, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

You gasped in mock indignation, caught off guard by his informal tone. "Seungcheol!" you exclaimed, your hand flying to your chest in exaggerated shock. "I can't believe you just said that!"

But despite your feigned outrage, you couldn't suppress the laughter bubbling up inside you.

Seungcheol's laughter filled the air as he apologized, his voice laced with amusement. "Sorry, sorry," he repeated, his grin widening as he realized the playful banter between you.

You couldn't help but mock offense at his apology, feigning exaggerated indignation. "I'm deeply wounded," you joked, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you placed a hand dramatically over your heart. "How will I ever recover from such a grievous insult?"

Seungcheol laughed at your theatrics, the sound warm and genuine. "I'll make it up to you, I promise," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "How about dinner? My treat."

You raised an eyebrow in mock skepticism, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Hmm, I don't know," you teased, pretending to consider his offer. "I might need a more sincere apology than that."

But as you glanced at Seungcheol's earnest expression, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the prospect of spending more time together outside of work. With a grin, you relented, accepting his invitation with a playful wink. "Alright, dinner it is."

"Let's go," Seungcheol declared with a grin, his eyes alight with excitement.

You widened your eyes in surprise, a hint of disbelief creeping into your voice. "Tonight?" you echoed, unable to hide your astonishment.

Seungcheol nodded eagerly, his stomach rumbling audibly. "Yes, tonight," he confirmed, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "I'm starving."

With a smile, you rose from your seat, placing the neatly organized archives on the side of his desk. "Alright then, let's go," you agreed, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

As you made your way towards the exit of the empty, darkened building, you heard a surprised whistle from Seungcheol. You couldn't help but giggle at his reaction, turning to tease him playfully. "Afraid of ghosts, Seungcheol?" you teased, a mischievous twinkle in your eye.

Seungcheol scoffed, his expression mockingly indignant. "Please, the building is sinister at night," he retorted, his tone tinged with exaggeration. "How could you possibly spend nights here?"

As you walked side by side with Seungcheol towards the parking lot, the darkness of the night enveloping the empty streets, you couldn't resist teasing him about his earlier comment about the building being sinister.

"It's scarier during the day with that bunch of people around," you quipped with a playful grin, nudging him lightly with your elbow.

Seungcheol chuckled at your remark, his laughter filling the quiet night air. "Was I one of those people that scared you?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

You couldn't help but play along, feigning exaggerated fear as you imitated his walk with a comically exaggerated pout and furrowed eyebrows. "Oh, definitely," you replied with mock seriousness, your lips puckered into a pout. "You walk like this."

Seungcheol gasped dramatically, a hand flying to his chest in mock offense. "I'm hurt," he protested, his voice dripping with faux indignation. "I'm a friendly guy, you know."

As Seungcheol held the door of the car open for you, a small smile played at the corners of your lips as you settled into the seat. "You know, in the past, you were friendly with everyone but me," you remarked casually, fastening your seatbelt as he made his way around to the driver's seat. "It's surprising to see how gentle you're being right now."

Seungcheol chuckled at your observation, his laughter warm and genuine. "It wasn't always like this," he admitted as he started the car, the engine humming to life.

You scoffed lightly, shaking your head in mock disbelief. "Oh, please," you retorted, a playful glint in your eye. "I distinctly remember you going out of your way to avoid me at dinners in your house. You'd even skip dinner altogether because of me."

A smile tugged at the corners of Seungcheol's lips at your words, a hint of nostalgia coloring his expression as he navigated the quiet streets.

Seungcheol's voice was tinged with a hint of reluctance as he spoke, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "I had my reasons," he murmured, a note of hesitation in his tone.

You raised an eyebrow in curiosity, turning to look at him expectantly. "And what might those reasons be?" you inquired, your tone playful yet genuinely curious.

But Seungcheol merely glanced at you briefly before returning his attention to the streets, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. "I'm not going to answer that," he replied firmly, his voice tinged with embarrassment.

You couldn't help but sulk at his refusal, crossing your arms over your chest. "Why not?" you pouted, unable to resist teasing him.

Seungcheol let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. "Because it's embarrassing," he admitted sheepishly, his cheeks flushing slightly at the admission.

You couldn't resist pressing further, a playful glint in your eye as you leaned in closer. "Come on, Seungcheol, you can't leave me hanging like this," you teased, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "I promise I won't laugh."

Seungcheol let out a soft sigh, his expression full of embarrassment and reluctance. "Fine," he relented, his cheeks still tinged with a faint blush. "But you have to promise not to make fun of me."

You nodded eagerly, your curiosity piqued. "I promise," you replied earnestly, your eyes wide with anticipation.

"The truth is..." Seungcheol began, he glanced at you briefly before returning his focus to the road ahead. "I was secretly in love with your impeccable taste in office supplies."

You blinked in surprise, caught off guard by his unexpected confession. For a moment, you were speechless, the weight of his words sinking in. But then you noticed the playful glint in his eyes, the mischievous curve of his lips, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"Come on, Seungcheol," you scoffed, "Tell me the real reason."

But Seungcheol merely chuckled, a boyish grin spreading across his face as he feigned pain at your weak slaps on his shoulder. "Ouch, that hurts," he teased, his laughter filling the car.

Seungcheol's voice was hesitant as he spoke, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "My dad would kill me if he heard me saying this, but..." he trailed off, his words hanging in the air.

"But what?" you prompted.

Seungcheol took a deep breath, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "At the time, I had a crush on you," he confessed, his admission hanging in the air between you.

You felt your breath catch in your throat, your mind racing as you processed his words. You stayed silent, unable to form a coherent response as a rush of emotions washed over you.

After a moment of tense silence, Seungcheol continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "And... I was jealous of you with my dad," he admitted.

A wheeze of laughter escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you clapped a hand over your mouth, trying to suppress the sudden burst of amusement. But it was too late—once the laughter started, it was impossible to hold back.

Seungcheol looked at you, a mixture of confusion and embarrassment crossing his features as he watched you dissolve into laughter. He bit his lip, trying to suppress a laugh of his own, but soon he couldn't hold it in any longer.

Seungcheol's voice carried a hint of mock indignation as he spoke. "You're laughing at my feelings?" he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

You tried to stifle your laughter, shaking your head as tears of mirth streamed down your cheeks. "No, no," you managed to gasp out between giggles, "but... me? Your dad?" The absurdity of the situation struck you, and you dissolved into laughter once again, your body shaking with the force of it.

Seungcheol couldn't help but join in, his own laughter mingling with yours as he glanced at you with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. "Okay, okay," he said, his voice tinged with laughter, "maybe it does sound a little ridiculous when you say it like that."

As the laughter subsided, you wiped away tears of mirth and leaned against the window, still chuckling softly to yourself.

You asked with a playful smile, your curiosity piqued. "Why me, Seungcheol?"

Seungcheol let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he glanced at you. "Well, think about it," he began, his tone lighthearted. "My dad spent every day with you, but I only saw you on special occasions. And every time I tried to catch your attention, you were busy with something with my dad." He chuckled again.

You couldn't help but laugh along with him, playfully shaking his shoulder. "Oh, so I didn't catch your charms at that time?" you teased, a mischievous twinkle in your eye.

Seungcheol grinned, his gaze meeting yours. "I guess not," he replied with a shrug, his tone teasing yet fond.

You couldn't resist teasing Seungcheol a little more. "And your charm was ignoring me when you saw me?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Seungcheol let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Okay, maybe I was a little nervous," he admitted, his cheeks flushing slightly.

You laughed at his confession, enjoying the playful banter between you. "Was I really that intimidating?" you asked, feigning surprise.

Seungcheol nodded emphatically, his eyebrows raised in seriousness. "Definitely," he replied.

He continued, "I mean, we're almost the same age, but every time I saw you at dinner, you came looking like a lawyer ready to win a case."

You couldn't help but be curious. "And why didn't you tell me?" you asked, your tone gentle.

Seungcheol paused for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Honestly, before, I didn't really know how to tell you," he confessed, "I wasn't exactly experienced in... well, talking to girls, let alone asking them out on dates."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his admission. "And now?" you pressed.

Seungcheol turned to you, a warm smile gracing his features, as the car pulled up to the restaurant, Seungcheol got out and hurried around to open the door for you, gesturing for you to step out. "Well, I'd like to think I've gotten a little better at it," he replied, his tone light.

You chuckled softly, stepping out of the car and allowing him to guide you towards the entrance of the restaurant. "I'd say you've definitely improved," you remarked, a teasing glint in your eye.

Seungcheol chuckled, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "The old Seungcheol would be freaking out right now if he knew he is now taking you to dinner," he admitted, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

As you settled into your seats at the restaurant, the ambiance around you buzzing with the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. Seungcheol sat across from you, a playful smile dancing on his lips as he perused the menu.

"So, Seungcheol," you began, your voice laced with mischief, "tell me about your crush on me when you were just a boy."

Seungcheol's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his gaze meeting yours. "Well," he began, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "let's just say, my crush on you hasn't exactly faded over the years."

You couldn't help but laugh at his bold confession, the unexpectedness of his words catching you off guard. "Oh, really?" you replied, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "And here I thought you were just taking me out to dinner as a friendly gesture."

You drink a sip of wine, "Imagine if your dad finds out about this little dinner date, Mr. Choi Seungcheol…"

Seungcheol's smirk widened at your response, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "And if he finds out?" he teased, his tone light yet filled with confidence.

You raised your chin slightly, meeting his gaze with a knowing look. "Well, Seungcheol," you replied, your voice steady, "it's not exactly ethical for a boss to take his employees on dates."

Seungcheol's smirk only grew, his confidence unwavering as he leaned forward slightly. "I think I can decide what's ethical while I'm in charge," he countered, his tone playful yet determined. "And besides, what harm could it do after your shift?"

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in playful skepticism at Seungcheol's suggestion. "Is it normal to take female employees on dates?" you asked, your tone teasing yet curious. "I'm sure the other girls would be interested to know."

Seungcheol's gaze softened as he met your eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I can't speak for anyone else," he replied, his voice low and sincere, "but I only have eyes for one woman in this company."

You couldn't deny the flutter of excitement mixed with apprehension as Seungcheol's gaze locked with yours, his smile causing your heart to race. "Seungcheol..." you began, your voice trailing off as you searched for the right words.

Seungcheol's smile widened, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned forward slightly. "Yes?" he prompted, his voice low.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you meet his gaze. "I have to admit," you started, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart, "it's not exactly the most conventional situation, considering you're the son of my boss."

Seungcheol's smile remained, his eyes twinkling. "Well, technically, I am your boss," he teased.

You raised an eyebrow, "Is that supposed to sound better?" you retorted, a hint of amusement in your voice.

Seungcheol chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair as he met your gaze with a knowing look. "With that title," he replied, his voice laced with playful arrogance, "I can bend the rules a little."

You held your breath for a moment, nodding in acknowledgment of Seungcheol's words. But as you met his gaze once more, a determined look in your eyes, you couldn't help but shake your head slightly.

"You won't win me over that easily," you declared, your voice firm yet tinged with a hint of playfulness.

Seungcheol's smile faltered slightly, a spark of challenge igniting in his eyes as he leaned forward once more. "Challenge accepted," he replied, his voice filled with determination.

You couldn't help but smirk as you leaned back in your chair, your gaze locked with Seungcheol's.

Seungcheol's breath caught in his throat, his expression shifting from playful to slightly flustered. "Damn, don't look at me like that," he muttered under his breath, his cheeks flushing slightly.

You couldn't suppress a laugh at his reaction, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the way you were able to tease him. "Like what?" you teased.

Seungcheol shook his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Like you know exactly what you're doing,"

You couldn't resist the urge to playfully tease Seungcheol, so you tilted your head and fixed him with an intense gaze. "Like this?" you asked, your voice soft but tinged with amusement.

Seungcheol's breath hitched slightly, his feet shifting nervously under the table as he looked away from you, unable to meet your gaze. You couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the effect you were having on him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you watched his reaction.

Seungcheol let out a slow exhale, his eyes flickering back to meet yours briefly before darting away again. "Yeah, like that," he mumbled, his voice slightly strained.

You couldn't help but chuckle softly at his response, enjoying the playful banter between the two of you. "Good to know I still have that effect on you," you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

Seungcheol rolled his eyes playfully, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, yeah, don't get too cocky now," he replied, his tone light but filled with warmth.

As the dinner drew to a close and both of you felt the weariness of the day settling in, Seungcheol pulled up in front of your apartment building. You exchanged a few final words, the playful banter still lingering between you as you prepared to part ways.

With a smirk, you couldn't resist teasing Seungcheol one last time before you left. "Well, thanks for the dinner, boss," you said, your voice laced with a hint of mischief.

Seungcheol chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. "Anytime, secretary," he replied, his tone teasing yet filled with warmth.

Before you stepped out of the car, you leaned in to plant a quick kiss on Seungcheol's cheek, a gesture of gratitude. "Goodnight, Seungcheol," you said with a smile, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you.

"Goodnight, Y/N," Seungcheol replied, his voice soft as he returned your smile.

With one final wave, you stepped out of the car and watched as Seungcheol drove off into the night一giggling like a little girl.

You lay in your bed, the soft sheets providing a feeling of comfort after a long day. Your mind starts to wonder as you take in the moment of silence. That is, until your cellphone interrupts your thoughts with notifications from Seungcheol.

You glanced down at your phone and couldn't suppress a smile when you saw Seungcheol's message. It read, "Since you're such a busy woman, I thought I'd save you the trouble and make plans for Saturday. I'll pick you up in the morning and we'll spend the day at the summer house."

With a playful glint in your eye, you quickly replied, "Just like your dad to invite me to the summer house, huh?"

A moment later, Seungcheol's response came through. "Yes, but this time, you'll go," he wrote, his tone confident yet filled with warmth.

You couldn't resist teasing him a bit more. "Who guarantees that?" you typed quickly, a smirk playing on your lips as you sent the message.

A moment later, your phone buzzed with Seungcheol's response. "I do" he replied confidently. "And if that's not enough, I can promise you good food, great company, and a beautiful view. What more could you want?"

You chuckled softly, appreciating his playful persistence. "Alright, you win. I'll be ready," you responded, feeling a flutter of excitement for the upcoming weekend.

"Great! Looking forward to it," Seungcheol replied with a smiley face emoji.

Just as he promised, Seungcheol stopped in front of your apartment in the morning. You stepped out of the building, the bright sun shining down, and made your way to his car. You were wearing sunglasses and a sundress, a look quite different from the usual office attire Seungcheol was accustomed to seeing you in.

As you slid into the passenger seat, Seungcheol gave you an appreciative once-over and grinned. "Well, look at you," he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I almost didn't recognize you without the high heels and power suit."

You laughed, adjusting your sunglasses. "Surprised, huh? I do have a life outside the office, you know."

He chuckled as he started the car. "I must say, I like this version of you." Seungcheol glanced over at you, a playful smirk on his lips. "Finally, I thought you would never get to see our summer house," he teased.

You chuckled, adjusting your sunglasses. "Well, your dad always invited me on weekends to spend the day with you and your brother. I guess I just never took him up on the offer."

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Really? My dad wanted you to spend time with us?"

"Yeah," you nodded, smiling at the memory. "He would always insist, but I didn't want to intrude on your family time."

Seungcheol shook his head, laughing softly. "You wouldn't have been intruding. My dad probably wanted you there to keep me and my brother in line."

You chuckled at Seungcheol's playful response, shaking your head in amusement. "Of course, you were terrible. I needed to choose my peace," you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

Seungcheol laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "No way, my dad told you about all the things we've done?" he exclaimed, sounding genuinely surprised.

You nodded with a smirk. "Yeah, I saved you two from a lot of mess already. I needed to remind your dad to take you two off punishment more than once."

Seungcheol's lips curled into a mischievous smile as he glanced at you. "Let me reward you then?" he suggested, his tone laced with teasing.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Bold move, Seungcheol," you teased, a playful smirk on your lips.

"I grew up, Noona," he proclaimed with the new nickname, his voice dripping with a flirtatious undertone. "I'm not that little boy anymore."

You smirked at his comment, intrigued to see where he was going with this. "Ooh, do go on, Seungcheol," you responded, your tone laced with playful curiosity. "What, pray tell, has changed since I last saw you?"

Seungcheol chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. His smile widened, revealing a glimpse of the boyish charm that still clung to him. "Well, I've grown a little taller, for starters," he admitted, a hint of bravado in his voice. "And I've gained some muscle too."

You couldn't help but playfully tease him further, a challenge in your eyes as your lips curled into a mischievous smile. "Grown taller, you say?" you retorted, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. "And gained some muscle? Aren't you just the pinnacle of maturity now?"

Seungcheol's eyes twinkled as he met your gaze, clearly enjoying the banter. "Oh, don't worry, Noona, I still have my charming ways," he teased, a flirtatious grin settling on his face.

As the conversation continued, Seungcheol's cheeks flushed slightly as he confessed, "The old me couldn't even bring himself to ask out his crush, much less invite her to the summer house to spend time together alone."

Your surprise was evident as you echoed, "Alone? Just the two of us?" A newfound realization dawned on you, and you couldn't help but wonder, "Is that why you invited me, Seungcheol?"

He flashed you a sheepish smile and nodded, his embarrassment adding a touch of charm to his confession.

Seungcheol's flushed cheeks and bashful demeanor confirmed the truth of his revelation. He chuckled nervously. "Yeah, I guess it is," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "I wanted some alone time with you, Noona."

"Alone in a romantic summer house?" you echoed, your voice tinged with a touch of tease. "Well, I suppose we could enjoy the scenic views, relax by the pool, and indulge in some good food and wine. But I have a feeling you had something specific in mind, Seungcheol. Care to enlighten me?"

Seungcheol's gaze flicked up to the rearview mirror, his eyes widening ever so slightly as he caught your suggestive question. A subtle blush crept onto his cheeks, and he bit his lip shyly, clearly embarrassed by the direction the conversation was taking.

He chuckled nervously. "Oh, no, Noona, not that." He quickly added, "I just wanted to spend some quality time with you, you know? Talk, laugh, just have fun together."

"Well, if I wasn't worried about distracting the driver, I might say something even more suggestive," you teased, a mischievous smile playing on your lips.

Seungcheol flushed deeper, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly as he tried to focus on the road. "Noona, please," he pleaded, his voice tinged with embarrassment and something you couldn't read well. "It's hard enough to concentrate as it is. Don't make it harder."

"You're not getting nervous, are you? Is the thought of being alone with me in a romantic summer house too much for you?"

"Hush, Noona," he said with a light-hearted scold, giving you a quick glance. "Can you not talk like that while I'm driving?" his voice slightly strained.

"Relax, Seungcheol," you teased leaning on your seat again. "It's just a little harmless fun. But if it's making you this flustered, I suppose I'll keep the dirty talk for later."

"Please do," he replied, his tone flustered and entertained. "Let's save the risqué topics for when we're not on the road, okay?"

You chuckled, finding his bashfulness endearing. "Alright, alright, I'll behave," you said, lifting your hands in mock surrender. "For now."

"I think the boldest one here is you, from what I see."

You grinned at his observation, "Oh, you're just noticing that now, Seungcheol?" you teased. "I've always been the bolder one between the two of us. But don't worry, I'll try not to overwhelm you with my boldness."

"I have no doubts about that, Noona," he replied, "Bring on the surprises later. I can handle it."

As you continued your playful banter with Seungcheol, you noticed a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. Years of harboring a secret crush on you, struggling to hide his true feelings, had taken a toll on him.

Deep down, he was tired of waiting, desperate to express the admiration he held for you. You wondered how much longer he could keep his feelings restrained, how much more pent-up emotion he could bear before they would inevitably burst forth.

As you stepped into the summer house, the pure air filling your lungs, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. Turning to glance at Seungcheol, the reality of the situation finally hitting you一just the two of you. A soft smile curved your lips as you took in the peaceful atmosphere.

Seungcheol, too, seemed affected by the realization.

As you glanced around, your eyes fell upon the family portraits hanging on the wall. There was a charming photo of Seungcheol and his brother hugging their mother, another one capturing Mr. Choi tenderly kissing Mrs. Choi. Your gaze then moved to a playful shot of them both splashing water, and finally, a picture of Seungcheol himself. As you stood there admiring the memories, you felt a warm presence behind you.

With his arms crossed and a wide grin on his face, Seungcheol stood by your side, clearly amused by your initial reaction.

You couldn't help but let out a quiet chuckle, finding Seungcheol's amused expression endearing. Turning to face him, you commented, "Looks like Mr. and Mrs. Choi couldn't keep their hands off each other."

Seungcheol laughed lightly, his eyes twinkling. "Yeah, they've always been like that," he replied. "They're not exactly shy about their affection for each other."

"Are you really this egotistical, displaying your own picture on the wall like this?"

Seungcheol chuckled, his smile widening as he playfully rolled his eyes at your teasing. "Oh please, Noona," he replied, "It's not my fault you're just now realizing how irresistibly handsome I am."

You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. "Alright, alright," you conceded, "You win this round, ego extraordinaire. But I must admit, you've always been quite handsome, even if it's a bit exaggerated." You smirked playfully.

Seungcheol grinned, basking in the compliment. "Aww, so you finally admit it, do you?" he teased, a cocky smile on his face.

As you playfully warned him not to get cocky, Seungcheol couldn't resist the temptation. He stepped closer, his hands gently settling on your waist. You could feel his breath ghosting over your lips, his eyes intense and captivating.

However, you playfully resisted, pushing him away and throwing him a challenging glance. As you walked away, you gave him one last sultry look over your shoulder before disappearing into the next room.

Seungcheol stood there for a moment, dumbfounded by the unexpected turn of events. A combination of surprise and desire coursed through him as he tried to compose himself, his heart racing.

His eyes gleamed with a combination of desire and disappointment, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It was clear that the game had only just begun.

The night had crept upon you, enveloping the summer house in a gentle embrace. As you sat on the balcony, sipping on a bottle of wine, you savored the simple pleasure of sharing a meal with Seungcheol.

The soft glow of the moonlight cast a warm, enchanting ambiance, and the distant sound of the television from within the house provided a pleasant background melody. You found yourself lost in the moment, feeling completely… content in his company.

As you let the flavors of the wine wash over your palate, you paused for a moment, your thoughts wandering to your recent travels. A hint of nostalgia tinged your voice as you spoke. "You know," you began, "I can't recall the last time I took a trip that wasn't connected to work."

You chuckled, swirling the wine in your glass, your eyes fixed on the liquid's dance. "Ah, yes," you responded with a wry smile. "Even if it is my... boss's house." you echoed his words, a hint of dry humor in your tone.

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "Feeling a bit cheeky, are we?" he taunted, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Watch your words, or I might have to dock your pay later."

You laughed, playfully sticking out your tongue at his jest. "Oh, you wouldn't dare," you retorted, a smirk on your lips. "What would the company do without my fabulous work?"

Seungcheol's grin widened, his eyes gleaming. "Ah, you've got me there," he conceded, raising a hand in mock surrender. "I guess I'll just have to find some other way to punish you for that sharp tongue of yours."

You smirked, taking another sip of your wine, and teasingly asked, "Oh, what are we talking about, indeed?" The question hung in the air, laced with a hint of provocation. You knew perfectly well what you were discussing, but you couldn't resist the urge to tease him further.

Seungcheol chuckled, shaking his head at your playfulness. He leaned back in his chair, a suggestive glint in his eyes. "You know exactly what we're talking about," he replied.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Do I now?" you said, a mischievous smile on your lips. "And what might that be, pray tell?"

Seungcheol saw through your act, his gaze locking onto yours. He leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a sultry tone. "Oh, don't act all coy with me, Noona," he murmured, his eyes fixed on yours. "You know exactly what we've been dancing around."

You stared into Seungcheol's eyes, the intensity of his gaze setting your heart racing.

Seungcheol's voice dropped to a whisper, his words laced with seductive undertones. "We've been dancing around it all night, skirting around the subject..." he murmured, grazing his fingers lightly against yours.

"But enough games, Noona... You know exactly where this is heading."

As Seungcheol got up from his seat and moved behind you, his hands gently massaging your shoulders and neck, you closed your eyes, enjoying the soothing touch of his hands.

A soft moan escaped your lips, and you couldn't help but teasingly ask, "So sure of yourself, aren't you, Seungcheol? But what makes you so sure I want this, too?"

"Ah, Noona, you're a difficult woman to read sometimes," he teased. "But the way you respond to my touch... I can feel the desire building in your body, just like mine."

Seungcheol chuckled, his fingers skillfully working the tension out of your shoulders. He apparently knew exactly how to make you melt under his touch. "Oh, Noona," he drawled, his voice laced with certainty and amusement. "Your body betrays you. Your sighs, your reactions... I can feel the way you lean into my touch. You can try to hide it all you want, but deep down, you want this just as much as I do."

You felt your breath catch in your throat at his words, your breath hitched in agreement to his perception, your body's response betraying your own longing.

Seungcheol's hands continued their ministrations, his touch growing bolder. "You can deny it if you want," he murmured, trailing gentle kisses along your neck, "But your body tells the truth, Noona."

As Seungcheol's lips gently traced along your neck, you found yourself melting even more under his touch, your defenses crumbling. But just as abruptly, you snapped out of the blissful haze, realizing the need to regain control over your emotions. You quickly stood up, breaking the intimate contact.

Seungcheol looked momentarily taken aback, you could see the flicker of confusion in his face, as he tried to understand the sudden change in your demeanor.

You caught a glimpse of his parted lips, still moist from their previous closeness against your skin.

"Noona..." he whispered, his voice laced with concern. "Is everything alright? Did I... did I go too far?"

Your breath shuddered nervously, emotions swirling within you like a raging tempest. You held onto his hands. You look into his eyes, seeing the desperation and longing there. He seems ready to ask for all of you, but the sheer intensity of his gaze makes you hesitate.

"Seungcheol," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's not that I don't want this but... your family, our work, the company... it's just–"

Before you can finish your sentence, Seungcheol silences you with a gentle finger on your lips. His smile widens, and with a reassuring expression, he shakes his head slightly. "Sshh," he whispers, his eyes filled with understanding. "I know what you're thinking, Noona. You're worried about everything that could happen. But right now, in this moment, all I want is to be close to you. Nothing else matters."

"Cheol–"

"You worry too much, Noona," he whispers gently, "Just let yourself feel what's between us."

"C'mere." As Seungcheol guides your steps towards the main bedroom, his warm presence enveloping you, he stands before you, gently lifting your chin.

His gaze captures yours, his voice filled with desire and intent. "For once in your life, Noona," he whispers, his touch on your chin light. "Do exactly what you really want."

With a confident smile, Seungcheol leans closer, his breath brushing against your skin. "Or," he continues, his words carrying a hint of playfulness, "I will."

His proximity ignited a spark within you, evoking a sense of youthful freedom.

Memories of missed opportunities and fleeting moments flood your mind. You bite your smile as you find yourself drawn to his infectious energy and the intoxicating vibe he exudes.

"I dare you," you murmur softly, your voice infused with anticipation. "Show me what you've got, Seungcheol."

As Seungcheol leaned in closer and claimed your lips in a passionate kiss. 一a long awaited kiss一His fingers tenderly brushed against the nape of your neck, while his other hand gripped your waist, scrunching the dress between his fingers.

Your bodies pressed close together, you could feel the fervent thudding of Seungcheol's heart against your chest, mirroring the desperate beats of your own heart. His tongue danced with yours, igniting sparks of desire with every caress. As you allowed your fingers to bury into the softness of his hair, you heard a low, needy moan escape his lips.

As Seungcheol laid you on the expansive bed, his fingers gently encircling your waist, while he held one of your thighs, you felt a rush of heat as he settled between your legs.

The bed felt plush and inviting, while the soft silk of the sheets caressed your skin. With a suggestive motion, he simulated a thrust, and a gasp of pleasure escaped your lips, mingling with the intoxicating friction between your bodies.

Seungcheol gently lifted your dress over your head, revealing your naked form. His breath hitched in his throat as his eyes roamed over your exposed skin, and a whine escaped from deep within his chest. He buried his face into your neck, his voice ragged as he whispered.

"Have you been walking around like this all night, Noona? Wearing nothing underneath that dress this whole time?"

You chuckled, biting your bottom lip.

"Can it be possible, Noona..." "You cooked with me," Seungcheol whispered, his voice growing heated with each word, "went shopping at the vineyard, wore that enticing dress, and were completely naked under it the whol– fuck." He couldn't help but let out a playful moan against your neck. "You're driving me crazy, Noona."

As Seungcheol's hand continued its languid path across your body, tracing a languid trail along the valley of your breasts, down your stomach, and finally finding its destination between your thighs, he let out an appreciative hum of satisfaction. "Mmmm," he murmured, his voice dripping with approval.

He parts your thighs, his fingers slipping between your folds, teasing you with gentle, deliberate strokes. "You're already so wet," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "All this for me?" He slides a finger inside you, curling it just right, and then, adds another, making you arch your back and moan.

"Cheol," you gasp, your hands gripping the sheets as your body trembles under his touch.

He smirks, looking down at where his fingers are disappearing inside you. The wet sounds are so loud that they almost drown out your whimpers. "Look at how you take my fingers," he murmurs, his voice dripping with lust.

Your eyes follow his gaze, watching his fingers move in and out of you, slick with your arousal. The sight and the sound of it drive you wild, making you squirm and whimper even more. Seungcheol's thumb finds your clit, pressing and circling it in a way that makes you see stars.

"You're so tight Noona," he groans, his own arousal evident in his voice. "I can't wait to feel you around my cock."

You moan, feeling the pleasure build to an almost unbearable level. His fingers press deeper, and you clench around them, so tight that his fingers almost slide out of you with each pulse of your walls. Seungcheol bites his lip, trying to maintain his composure, but it's not working.

Without warning, he slides down the bed, positioning himself between your legs. He devours your pussy with a hunger that makes you scream, your body flinching on the bed from the overwhelming sensation. His hot tongue flicks and swirls around your clit, and he drinks you in, savoring every drop of your arousal.

"Cheol, oh my god!" you cry out, your hands flying to his hair, fingers gripping tightly.

He holds you still, his strong hands pressing down on your hips as you writhe beneath him. The combination of his tongue and fingers is driving you wild, and you can feel the orgasm building rapidly. He slides one hand up your body, finding your nipple and rolling the bud between his fingers, making you burn in pleasure.

"You're so perfect," he murmurs against your folds, his voice vibrating through you. "So fucking sweet."

Your moans grow louder, the sensations overwhelming your senses. Seungcheol's tongue moves with expert precision, and when he adds another finger inside you, curling them too, you can't hold back any longer. Your orgasm crashes over you, and you scream his name, your body convulsing with pleasure.

Seungcheol doesn't stop, his mouth and fingers working you through your orgasm, extending it until you're a quivering, whimpering mess beneath him. Only when you're completely spent does he finally pull back, looking up at you with a satisfied smile. His lips glisten with your cum, and his eyes are dark with desire.

"That's my good girl," he praises, sliding back up your body to kiss you deeply. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it only makes you want him more. "Now, let's see how tight you are around my cock."

Seungcheol starts to strip, his eyes never leaving yours as he reveals his toned, muscular body. You wait, watching him with the 'fuck me' eyes. As he finally removes the last piece of clothing, you seize the moment.

With a swift, confident movement, you grab him and push him back onto the bed. He falls back, his eyes widening in surprise. You straddle his naked body, your own arousal evident as you press your pussy against him. His hands slide to your hips, gripping you tightly.

He looks up at you, a devilish smile playing on his lips. "Fuck, I'm in trouble," he murmurs, his voice dripping with admiration. "You're going to be the death of me."

You smirk, leaning down to capture his lips in a searing kiss, your bodies aligning perfectly. "Then let's make it worth it," you whisper against his mouth, feeling his cock harden beneath you.

You grab Seungcheol's cock, aligning it with your wet, eager pussy. As you slide down onto him, you feel the delicious stretch, and your head falls back, mouth slack with pleasure. Seungcheol bites his lip, almost tasting blood, his mind racing with random thoughts to avoid cumming too soon.

"Fuck," he moans, his voice strained as his eyebrows furrow in concentration.

You bottom out, and the sensation is overwhelming. Seungcheol's hands grip your hips tightly, his eyes dark with desire as he tries to keep his composure. The feeling of your tightness around him is almost too much to bear, but he holds on, savoring every moment.

"Too much already?" you purred. "We've barely begun, Seungcheol," you whispered, your breath catching as your core quivered against his tantalizing touch.

As you raised your hips slightly, allowing yourself to sink back down onto Seungcheol, he let out a trembling breath, his eyes closing as his jaw went slack with pleasure. Despite his valiant attempt at forming a response, all that escaped his lips was a strained "Noona" as his body trembled beneath you.

You start to ride him, bouncing up and down, your juices splashing at the base of his cock. Each time you sink down, Seungcheol's body shudders, moving in rhythm with you. His hands grip your hips, trying to guide your movements一but mostly just holding on for dear life.

"Fuck, Y/N" Seungcheol groans again, his voice filled with raw need. His eyes are glued to where your bodies join, watching as you take him in over and over. "You're so fucking perfect," he mutters, barely able to keep his composure as your tightness drives him wild. The sensation is almost too much, but he holds on, wanting to prolong this intense pleasure for as long as he can.

To give your legs a rest, you start to circle your hips, grinding on him, feeling the tip of his cock hitting your g'spot perfectly. Seungcheol's hands slide up your body, one settling on your breast, squeezing gently, while the other grips your waist, guiding your movements.

"Fuck, that's it," he groans, his eyes rolling back at the sensation. "You feel so fucking good." His voice is husky, filled with desperation as he tries to hold on. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing it in circles to match the rhythm of your hips.

You moan loudly, your head falling back as the pleasure builds even more intensely. "Cheol," you gasp, "I can't hold it much longer." Your body trembles, every nerve ending on fire.

"Don't hold back, baby, don't hold it" he urges, his voice strained but filled with encouragement. "Let go for me. Cum all over my cock."

You hold a little longer to ask him, "How does it feel, Seungcheol," you whisper, "to finally have the woman you've had a longstanding crush on, sitting on you like this?"

Seungcheol stutters, his breath hitching as he feels your walls clenching and unclenching purposely around him. "F-fuck, Noona," he groans, his voice shaky and full of raw need. "It's... it's everything I ever dreamed of and more."

You smirk, enjoying the power you have over him. "Is that so?" you tease, grinding your hips in slow, deliberate circles. "I never knew you had such dirty fantasies about me."

He bites his lip, his hands gripping your hips tighter. "You have no idea," he admits, his voice low and strained. "I’ve wanted you for so long. Seeing you like this... feeling you like this... it’s driving me insane."

You lean down, your lips brushing against his ear. "Good," you whisper, clenching around him again. "I want you to remember this feeling, Seungcheol. Every time you look at me, I want you to remember how it feels to be inside me."

He shudders, a deep, guttural moan escaping his lips. "I won't forget," he promises, his hands moving up to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "I'll never forget this, Noona."

You lean down further, your breath hot against his ear. "Seungcheol," you whisper, your voice sultry and teasing, "I can feel how close you are. Do you want to cum inside me? Do you want to fill me up with everything you've got?"

His eyes widen, and he lets out a strangled moan, his hips bucking up involuntarily. "Fuck, Noona, you're gonna make me—"

You cut him off with a sharp thrust, feeling his cock throb inside you. "Tell me how good it feels," you demand, your own voice trembling with need. "Tell me how much you love fucking me."

"It feels so fucking good," he gasps, his fingers digging into your hips. "I love it, Noona. I love fucking you so much. You're so tight, so wet, I can't hold on—"

You can feel your own orgasm building, spurred on by his desperate words and the intensity of his gaze. "That's it, baby," you purr, riding him harder. "Cum for me, Seungcheol. Fill me up. I want to feel you cumming inside me."

His eyes roll back, and he grips you even tighter. "I'm gonna—fuck, I'm cumming—"

"Fu一... ahh,"

As Seungcheol's release fills you to the brim, you feel a warm, liquid sensation spreading inside you, overflowing with his essence. He holds you close, pressing your bodies together as if to recompose the bond between you.

Just as you're catching your breath and basking in the afterglow, Seungcheol suddenly flips you over onto the bed with a determined look in his eyes. His hands roam over your body, trailing fire wherever they touch, and you can feel the familiar ache building within you once again.

"I need to make you cum again Noona." "Now, let me take care of you."

With a sudden burst of energy, Seungcheol flips you over onto your stomach, his hands roaming eagerly over your body as he prepares to make you cum all over again.

Seungcheol's cock enters you deep and sloppy, the abundance of lubrication spilling out around him. You scream into the sheets as he presses your head down onto the bed, his movements becoming more assertive as he thrusts into you with purpose.

Your breath grew sharper with every thrust, each one pushing you closer to the precipice.

"I've imagined this moment... countless times," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "Having you like this... under me, writhing and gasping."

"So… Ah! Nasty, Seungcheol!"

Seungcheol couldn't help but chuckle at your teasing remark, his eyes filled with both affection and desire. As he continued to drive into you, he replied with a playful smack on the ample flesh of your ass.

"You have no idea," he murmured.

As you felt the wave of pleasure wash over you, your vision temporarily white in the overwhelming sensations, his name left your throat all whiny and strained. Seungcheol couldn't help but whine in response to his own heightened sensitivity.

He wanted to please you, to bring you to climax, but the overwhelming experience only made him more reactive to your every move and sound.

The intensity of your climax began to subside, your body finally melting into the sheets, Seungcheol stumbled off the bed, his legs trembling from the intense sex.

He made his way to the bathroom, seeking out some wipes to gently clean you up, his own breaths still ragged and unsteady.

As Seungcheol returned with the wipes, he found you lying there, chest heaving and breath labored. He crawled back into bed next to you, gently beginning to clean you up, his touch tender and caring.

"You alright there, Noona?" he asked, a hint of concern mingling with his breathless voice. "I didn't... hurt you, did I?"

You reached out, gently running your fingers through Seungcheol's messed hair, a weary yet satisfied smile playing on your lips.

"I'm okay, baby…" you whispered, your voice filled with contentment.

He couldn't help but bite back a smile at your choice of words.

As Seungcheol continued his gentle ministrations, cleaning you up with the wipes, taking care to not overwhelm you when he brushes the wipes against your clit.

"Baby?" he echoed, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Is that what you're calling me now?" Despite the teasing tone, there was a warmth in his eyes that betrayed his affection

"You're such a big baby Seungcheol…"

In response to your lighthearted comment, Seungcheol couldn't help but chuckle. He leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on your shoulder before responding.

"Well, I am big, you're not wrong about that," he replied, a mischievous grin on his face. "But I guess 'big baby' suits me just fine, especially if it's coming from you."

As Seungcheol finished cleaning you up, he tossed the wipes aside and draped an arm around your middle, pulling you closer. He leaned in, peppering soft kisses along your neck and shoulder, his touch gentle.

"And your image," he continued, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "riding me like that... it's something I'll never forget. It's the most beautiful sight I've ever seen."

"Did you like it?" You ask him, giving a glance over your shoulder.

Seungcheol furrowed his brows, giving you a slightly exasperated look, as if the answer should have been obvious. "Noona, that was a rhetorical question, right?" he teased, a hint of affectionate amusement in his voice. "Of course I liked it."

[...]

In the soft morning light, sunlight trickled into the room, and you woke to the gentle sensation of Seungcheol's fingers running through your hair. As your eyes slowly opened, you found him already dressed, looking striking in the warm glow.

"Noona," he whispered, his gaze tender and filled with affection. "My parents... they're here."

Hearing this, you instantly sat upright in bed, your eyes widening in shock.

The realization that Seungcheol's parents had arrived hit you like a bolt of lightning. You hastily stumbled out of bed, making a beeline for the bathroom, leaving him chuckling at your flustered state.

You quickly emerged from the bathroom, your hair still damp and clinging to your skin, a bath towel wrapped tightly around your body. You found Seungcheol lounging on the bed, casually scrolling through his phone.

"Cheol," you began with a slight scowl, "why didn't you tell me your parents arrived earlier? I could've prepared myself better!"

Seungcheol shrugged apologetically, a hint of sheepishness in his expression. "Honestly, Noona, I had no idea they were coming either," he admitted, offering a sincere smile. "They didn't give a heads up, and I couldn't warn you beforehand."

You let out a sigh, the lingering worry evident on your face. "It's not just about that," you murmured, "What will they think of me... sleeping with you… their son, my boss?"

"Noona, my parents aren't like that," he assured you, gently squeezing your hand. "They won't judge you based on your relationship to me or your job. They see the person you are, and that's all that matters."

He chuckled softly, attempting to lighten the mood. "Besides, I'm pretty sure they already love you just because you're so good at bossing me around."

You playfully gave Seungcheol's shoulder a gentle slap, your worries momentarily replaced by a smile. As you both left the bedroom, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, guiding you towards the living room.

You had worked closely with Seungcheol's father for years, and the thought of them knowing about your intimate relationship was nerve-wracking. Yet, Seungcheol's calming presence beside you helped ease your nerves.

Mr. Choi regarded you with a warm and teasing smile as you bowed in greeting. "Ah, there she is!" he exclaimed with feigned, feigned, disappointment. "The famous Y/N who refuses my invitations to the summerhouse. But with my son, suddenly she finds the time."

Mrs. Choi chuckled softly at her husband's jest, her eyes filled with warmth.

You felt a warmth spread across your cheeks, totally embarrassed. "I'm truly sorry, Mr. Choi," you apologized, your voice soft. "It's just... Seungcheol has a way of convincing me."

Mr. Choi's eyes gleamed with an affectionate pride as he spoke. "When Seungcheol was younger," he began, gesturing with his hands, "he used to come to me, curious about you. He would ask, 'Father, do you think Noona could be interested in someone like me?'"

His voice was tinged with amusement as he continued, "I always told him, 'Son, Y/N is quite the catch. You just need to be patient, and show her your true self.' And look where we are now."

"'How is Noona today?' 'What's Noona doing?' 'When is Noona coming to visit?'" His mom continues.

Seungcheol's face flushed a deeper shade of red, and he hurriedly covered his face with his hands, visibly embarrassed by his father's words. You seized the opportunity to add to the teasing, a playful grin on your face.

"Oh, Cheollie," you teased, "So it's true, you were quite smitten with me even back then. How utterly endearing."

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bupphaofficial · 2 years ago

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#skills coach #career coach #life coach #goal setting #self improvement #self development #life transformation #leadership skills #communication skills #personal development #professional growth #side hustle #side income #working from home #working from bed

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movingthisblogcelestialtarot11 · 8 months ago

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what can indicate someone making a lot of money in their career?

Signs for making 💰

Sag sun—always working multiple jobs, having multiple interests. May be into stocks, trading, engineering, software engineering, marketing. May be into tourism.

Capricorn venus, Capricorn moon—Always working and grinding. Networks easily. But I notice with these placements they may go on to start a side job earlier than getting a full time job. That full time job may come later depending on aspects to the moon. Has a superseding reputation for their determination and professionalism.

For example capricorn moon aspecting saturn has had jobs come in later to their life. May not have had their first job until 20 and onward. They may have been working on a side hustle the entire time.

Jupiter 1h, Jupiter 10h—Success follows these individuals. Career opportunities opened themselves up to them. The more the native works on their mindset they become a manifesting success story! Though don’t be fooled these individuals have had to work on themselves immensely.

Venus asp jupiter—Cash flows in. Though with this placement the native can spend just as easily and create just as much as they lost. (Trine, sextile, conj.)

Venus 5h—makes money off of doing what they love! Most definitely has a side hustle alongside their job.

Aquarius, sun moon, rising—also can be known for their unique side hustles. May be into designing clothes of their own, making music, but there’s something so fleshed out and distinct about their side hustle people are attracted to. May have a blog, make music,

Gemini venus, sun, moon—very multifaceted in their skills. Almost everywhere and nowhere at once with how busy they are. Paired with Leo: they may have a high position in their community and attract a lot of people. It creates the perfect audience for them to sell to! May crochet or sell handmade items!

Leo sun, rising—Has a knack for presenting themselves in any community. Does well with meeting new people to gain new opportunities and experiences. Likable energy. Most likely to own a vlog, or a blog where they can talk and share their stories. Makes money off of being themselves. Very hardworking individuals and determined!

Scorpio rising—Works in silence, keeps their success limited to people who celebrate it. Highly successful, looked up to, and is intelligent with their finances. Knows how to save. They are a fixed sign so once they see something in their mind they will not stop until they manifest success!

Capricorn/saturn dom—knowing how to budget and is successful because of their ability to save money. Not just their job!

Libra moon/rising—May work in a job requiring long travels, be in a position where income is higher. They’re beauty and brains. Some men are construction workers with this placement and make a hell of a lot of money. If moon is in the 12h they’re more likely to travel long distances. Can become models, nurses, doctors.

Cancer 10h, libra moon, libra venus—Can work in home renovation, be a real estate agent. Makes a ton of money off of bringing in clients. If they have aspects to mercury, gemini, exalted mercury, they can talk anyone into buying a home or service.

Libra moon—may also know someone who offers them a higher paying job.

Saturn 3h—Very skilled individuals. Disciplined and goal oriented. Slow and steady wins the race. Takes their time to learn new skills in their career thus making them knowledgeable. Whereas their coworkers tend to gloss over—no these individuals tend to stay late hours and put in more effort. Had a huge chance of being recognized and moving up in their position.

Taurus 2h—Check where venus is placed. If making an aspect to jupiter, moon, the native can become financially successful. (Trine, sextile, conj)

Jupiter 2h—Controversial perspective but a lot of these natives feel as though they have enough money to get by. It just somehow comes in when they need it. Same for sag ruling 2h.

Virgo mercury, virgo 2h—Can be concerned with spending habits and analyze them. May budget a lot and try different methods for saving. Has a critical eye for finances. May make a monthly spreadsheet! Can be into nursing as well.

Venus 10h—If the benefic is positively aspected it’ll bring lots of success to the natives career. Chance to become widely known for their work. Their charm and interpersonal skills leas to success.

Aries sun—Competitive in the career field. Sun is exalted here so these natives truly want to be the best they can be. Authoritative, determined in their work. Grinds a lot. Similar to Capricorn but more extroverted. Passionate, enthusiastic, and it drives them to make great connections in their career.

Sun 6h—Brilliant ideas, determined and structured. Puts in energy to their work. Day to day activities yield long term results. Their determination is what really gets them there. Has a great relationship with their coworkers and bosses if positively aspected.

#asks #astrology community #devi post #astrology #tarotcommunity #divination #tarot deck #tarot #witchcraft #tarot reading #pick a pile #pick a card romance #pick a picture #astrology notes #astro notes #astro

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evansdmitri · 3 months ago

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Fingers on The Threshold

Zayne x You

After you accidentally injuring yourself while trying to spare him a small task, you are reminded that true love isn’t a burden—but a willingness to care, even in the smallest moments.

My Masterlist

One of Zayne's love languages is acts of service, and you know it very well. You can trust him with the biggest thing in your heart—literally and figuratively—even down to the delicate thing like brushing your hair. But somehow, you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling like you were giving him another burden in his already demanding life. That’s why, even though you were happy whenever he opened the car door for you, you always tried to do it yourself.

Until that day happened.

He had already parked his car in the hospital parking lot. In one hand, he held the patient's printout data, with his phone balanced between his ear and shoulder—fully immersed in a conversation with Greyson, his tone clipped and precise—his professional mask firmly in place.

Seeing all the hustle, you decided to lighten his load by taking one task off his hands: opening and closing your side of the door.

But that’s when everything went downhill, because you were in a lethargic state. You were too tired from work, to the point where if you leaned your head for more than ten seconds, you’d fall asleep. He had insisted that you rest, but being the stubborn woman you are, you decided to accompany him to retrieve some important belongings from the hospital—hence the ride with him.

Everything happened so fast. Zayne was right beside you as you climbed out of the car, and you slammed his car door shut. Your brain needed two seconds to register what had happened—the only thing you felt was pain shooting through your fingers from an unknown source. That’s when you realized you had managed to clamp two of your fingers in the car door. Struck with pain, you couldn’t find the words.

You stared at Zayne with wide eyes, hoping he would trail his gaze to your clamped fingers, while Zayne gave you a questioning stare.

Five agonizing seconds later, you finally found your voice. “My fingers. Door!” you managed to say.

In an instant, he slipped his phone into his pocket, letting the files scatter forgotten on the ground, and flung the car door open. You yanked your hand out quickly, gritting your teeth, trying to hold back tears. Pain was supposed to be a close companion for a hunter—but somehow, this pain broke through your tolerance, bringing tears to your eyes. It was a deep, burning pain you could feel all the way in your bones. You were too scared to look. Was it wide open? Bleeding? Flesh exposed? Broken?

“My office. Now,” he said in a quiet but commanding voice, guiding you by the waist in long strides. “How does it feel?” he asked. But you were too focused on holding in your whimpers, cradling your wrist in your good hand.

When you reached his office, he told you to sit in the plush armchair and rest your hand on the armrest. He began gathering the emergency supplies he always kept ready for you. You slowly opened your eyes and took a peek as he examined your hand.

Contrary to what you feared, it wasn’t a big wound. Bloody, yes—but not as gaping or terrifying as the pain had led you to believe.

With practiced precision, Zayne cleaned the wound, applied a salve, and covered it with a bandage.

“You can take a painkiller if it hurts too much,” he said. “But I don’t think there are any broken bones—just a dented, ungrown nail from the impact.”

You nodded slowly, staring up at him with eyes like a kicked puppy. He sighed and gently pressed your face to his chest, wrapping you in a hug while stroking your hair.

“And from now on, until the foreseeable future,” he murmured, “let me open and close every door for you.”

You gave him a small, quiet nod. And since then, you never open any door by yourself if he was with you.

#l&ds zayne #lads zayne #lnds zayne #love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader

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thealteredaltar · 6 days ago

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Pick-A-Pile Tarot Reading: Messages from Aphrodite ❤️

Welcome to the first Tarot reading on my blog! Today, we are going to see what Aphrodite has to say to you. And don’t think that because you are getting a message from the goddess of love that it will necessarily be about love. It might be but it could also be about anything she thinks she needs to draw your attention to. So, pick the pile you feel most drawn to and see what messages she wants to give you.

Pile 1 Pile 2 Pile 3

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Pile 1

Ten of Swords (reversed) /// Four of Cups (reversed) /// Four of Pentacles /// Two of Pentacles

I’m feeling a lot of emotion immediately from this pile. I want to give you a hug and so does Aphrodite. I can feel her embracing you right now. You have been through some difficult times lately and part of that has been because of your mindset. You were extra hard on yourself and stuck in negative thinking. But, don’t beat yourself up for that, too! It happens. I also think you were feeling stuck on certain things that happened in the past that you could not change. You had a really hard time letting a particular disappointment go. This feels like it was relationship-oriented. Maybe a friendship that went sour or romantic situation that did not go as expected. It really wounded you and closed you off for a while.

This also made you feel like a mess and could have even made a mess of your life. Maybe someone who hurt you emotionally also screwed you over financially/professionally? Either that or you have just been feeling very financially restricted lately, which only made your emotional matters worse. In any case, you are absolutely turning things around. Aphrodite wants you to know that not only is your life on the upswing but you are feeling more secure and stable within yourself. Maybe you needed to see that, no matter who or what you lose, you will always have yourself. I feel like you have been loving yourself more or you’re on your way to doing so. This is definitely something that pleases Aphrodite! Even if things aren’t where you really want them to be financially right now, that’s not the point. In fact, the whole point of this cycle may be to find value and security in things outside of your finances or what you achieve. Getting your act together is not just a practical thing. It’s an emotional and internal process, as well. (There is also a message here to try something new in terms of income or to experiment with a side hustle. You need to change up your approach to moneymaking in some way now to see results)

Pile 2

Nine of Wands (reversed) /// Two of Wands /// Eight of Cups /// Queen of Swords

Whew, okay. The message here is loud and clear. This is definitely love-related and I think it is about someone that you have left in the past. Well, you have left them in the past but I don’t think they have let go of you. This may be a situation where you still feel them pulling on your energy a lot. It is definitely giving “soul connection”, however you may label or define that. But, Aphrodite is saying that these soul connections do not always necessarily have to work out. Sometimes, it is the person you’re meant to be with. Sometimes, the point of the connection is to serve as a learning experience. Maybe you learned all you could from this situation. You saw not only the need to walk away from this person but the patterns you need to leave behind, as well, through whatever past choices you made here.

Ultimately, you know what is best for you. Aphrodite is urging you to think clearly and tap into your Queen of Swords side. Do not easily give into sentiment here or even the idea that you and this person are destined to be together. I feel like most of you have already processed this and are over it. But, your person, however, is not. They keep hanging on while you have let go. A key message here from Aphrodite is that if someone only makes themselves available after you are no longer available, and after they have had more than enough time to step up and change, they probably aren’t the one for you. A bit of affectionate tough love from the goddess here. But, she is very truthful when it comes to these matters. She wants you to be truthful with yourself. Don’t settle for less! The crazy thing is that I get this visual of you running after this person and them heading in the opposite direction. Now that you’re going in an opposite direction, they’re running after you. And no, sorry, I am not referencing “chaser-runner” energy. I personally don’t like that. Some of you may believe in that but please recognize how toxic that can be. Even if you give this person one more chance, there’s a possibility that they may, once again, run off or shut down now that you want them again. You have free will. The choice is yours. Just make sure you are choosing what you really deserve.

Pile 3

Three of Wands (reversed) /// The Star /// The Wheel of Fortune /// Nine of Pentacles (reversed)

It seems like you are feeling really frustrated right now. “Stagnant” is the word. It is like you can picture such a bright future for yourself and so many possibilities but you’re still very much stuck where you are. For a lot of you, this has to do with moving somewhere new, like a new city or even country. Specifically, I get the sense that you may be living somewhere because it is necessary on a practical level. You might be living with one or both of your parents or just in an uncomfortable situation that is affordable and hard to get out of. Your relationship with whoever you’re living with could be toxic. If they are a relative or friend, you may not feel too appreciated or loved by them. Aphrodite wants you to know that you can turn to her at any time for that affection you need. She loves you and I sense that some of you may work with her or be connected to her. If not, this may be the sign you need to build a bond with her because she could be a really helpful guide to you.

If no one is making you feel special or seen right now, she wants you to know that you are special and she sees you. She is also saying that everything is going to be alright. You are just in your “winter season” at the moment. But, “spring” is on its way for you! Things are going to start changing very soon. What will accelerate this process will be your confidence. Have confidence in yourself, your abilities and your future. I can sense you probably are naturally confident but this current circumstance has chipped away at it somewhat. Aphrodite is recommending you do some affirmations in the mirror to feel better and improve your outlook. You will not be stuck here forever, whether that “here” is a mentality or physical place. Many of you may also be struggling financially or not as independent as you’d like to be (especially if you are living at home). Know that this does not define you and you have plenty of things to feel confident about. I think many of you have some sort of creative talent or spiritual gift you want to share with the public and are feeling held back, either by limited resources or your own doubts. Just know that this endeavor will pay off; in a major way, for many of you. It may even be the thing that gets you out of this rut. But, in order to accomplish this, you have to believe in yourself. And when you’re struggling with that, turn to spirituality or to guides like Aphrodite for help.

If you enjoyed this reading and would like to show a little appreciation via donation, you can visit my Ko-Fi page ❤️🌹

#tarot reading #tarot community #tarot #pick a pile #pick a pile reading #pick a card #pick a picture #aphrodite #lady aphrodite #aphrodite devotion

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theskywithin · 25 days ago

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🌊✨ TRANSITING JUPITER IN CANCER (June 7, 2025–June 30, 2026) for your Rising Sign!

You're About to Receive More Than You Expected

Jupiter in Cancer brings abundance with softness, it nurtures, protects, and expands what makes you feel safe and supported. Think: real estate, family, home life, emotional comfort, and long-term security. Over the next year, you could be investing, nesting, healing, or upgrading your environment. But this isn’t just an internal glow-up, Jupiter wants to give you tangible blessings where you’ve long needed stability. Let’s see where you’re about to receive more… YAY!!!

G O O D * L U C K EVERYONE!!

Aries Rising

You could be moving, renovating, or finally creating the home you’ve dreamed of. Real estate matters are highlighted: buying, selling, inheriting, or improving your space. Family dynamics may also soften or evolve in beautiful ways, especially with parents or children. This year brings more emotional safety, yes, but also more property, land, privacy, and peace. If you’ve been craving a stable base to build from, this is the year it starts coming together.

Taurus Rising

New contracts, new clients, new skills. This is a huge year for learning, networking, and finally turning your ideas into income. You might upgrade your tech, launch a course, get certified, or land freelance work that opens bigger doors. Siblings or extended family could play a role in your expansion too. You’re becoming someone who not only gathers information, but profits from it. Pitch your ideas. Say yes to the meeting. Your voice is currency this year.

Gemini Rising

Your income is growing. Your self-worth is stabilizing. Jupiter is bringing expansion to your finances, assets, and sense of personal value, you might get a raise, change careers, start a side hustle, or finally feel confident asking for what you deserve. Investments could pay off. Luxuries feel more accessible. You’re no longer settling for less than what feels truly aligned, financially and emotionally. Build your future from this solid ground.

Cancer Rising

It’s your Jupiter year and that means growth across every area. This is your chance to be seen, supported, and chosen in ways that feel both expansive and stabilizing. You could get a promotion, a public platform, a fresh opportunity, or simply a deeper sense of “this is who I am now.” Your confidence rises. So does your visibility. People want to work with you, date you, follow your lead. If you’ve been waiting for the right time to launch, shift direction, or take up more space, this is it.

Leo Rising

Something behind the scenes is about to start paying off. Jupiter is expanding your inner life, yes, but also your long-term security. This is a powerful time for getting out of debt, healing through therapy, receiving behind-the-scenes offers, or making peace with the past so you can actually move forward. You could take a spiritual course, start a long-term retreat or recovery plan, or get support that’s more invisible than visible. Trust the slow work, it’s building something real. Rest = revenue.

Virgo Rising

The right people are coming. Jupiter is lighting up your social life and long-term goals, helping you find collaborators, communities, mentors, or friends who support your big dreams. If you’ve felt isolated, this is your year to reconnect, especially through creative, spiritual, or entrepreneurial circles. You might join a mastermind, launch a group offering, or meet someone who opens a major door. Invest in the dream and the people who can help you build it.

Libra Rising

You’re entering a career growth year. Jupiter is expanding your public role, your accomplishments, and your sense of purpose. This could look like a leadership position, a major career shift, new clients, press, or recognition from people in high places. Your professional confidence is rising. You’re trusted. You’re visible. And yes, the money follows. If you've felt like you were working quietly with no reward, this is the year the spotlight finally turns your way.

Scorpio Rising

The world is calling. Jupiter in your 9th house expands travel, teaching, publishing, and anything international. You might go abroad, return to school, launch something global, or step into a role where your ideas are heard on a larger scale. You’re breaking out of local and into limitless. If it involves immigration, higher education, long-distance relationships, or sharing your truth, Jupiter says YES. Don’t hold back. Your next chapter wants to be lived out loud.

Sagittarius Rising

Big money. Big changes. Big healing. Jupiter is expanding your 8th house of shared resources, intimacy, and financial transformation. You might receive an inheritance, investment, bonus, or support from a partner that changes your lifestyle. Emotionally, this is also a time of deeper trust in others and in yourself. If you've been carrying the weight alone, this is the year someone shows up. Let yourself be helped. Let your heart and your bank account soften into something sustainable.

Capricorn Rising

Love gets bigger annd clearer. Jupiter is blessing your 7th house of partnerships, bringing expansion in relationships, contracts, and collaborations. This could be your year to commit, reconnect, or meet someone who truly sees your worth. Business alliances flourish. Clients grow. Existing bonds deepen. It’s less about finding the right person and more about realizing how deeply supported you already are and being willing to ask for more of it. Yes, you’re allowed to be chosen and adored.

Aquarius Rising

Your lifestyle is about to get an upgrade. Jupiter is expanding your 6th house of work, health, and daily rhythm, meaning better habits, fulfilling tasks, and potentially a new job or income stream that feels more aligned. You’re learning to make life easier, not just more efficient. This could mean hiring help, changing roles, improving your schedule, or finally putting your wellbeing first. The more you organize around what truly supports you, the more the rest falls into place.

Pisces Rising

This is the year joy comes back. Jupiter in your 5th house is pure creative magic, it brings romance, fertility (in all forms), artistic inspiration, and reasons to celebrate again. You might fall in love, have a child, publish something beautiful, or step into your self-expression like never before. This is not the time to play small. It’s a year of receiving joy without guilt. Your gifts deserve an audience. Your pleasure deserves a place in the plan. Let it be fun again, because fun is where the future starts.

#astrology #astro community #astro observations #astro notes #astrology tumblr #astrology blog #astrology transits #planetary transits #jupiter #love astrology #astrology notes

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pretend-i-don-t-exist · 6 months ago

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anyway photographer!shen yuan bc i got to take pretty pics of gorgeous landscapes earlier and now im considering to shift to an art major

sy likes taking pictures of his siblings and parents. it isn't for any deep reason like recording their most cherished memories to look back on in the future; he just likes taking pictures. his parents got him an expensive camera meant for professional photography with accompanying lessons, and sy absolutely loved it.

he didn't do much outside of photographing his family and friends and whatever caught his eye— he wasn't planning on using it as a side hustle or starting a business or anything. he did, however, create a social media account to share his best works. it did not have a large following or anything; it was just a space for sy to share the things he's passionate about.

sy did make sure that it was very, very far away from his peerless cucumber account, bc he's not going to bring his literary criticisms and analyses of objectively trashy novels to his carefully curated, beautiful artwork.

he is content with that, until his meimei begs him to help her friend with a photoshoot. an up and coming model, apparently, whose photographers dipped from the face of the earth and back-up photographers unavailable due to sickness. his meimei suggested him, bc sy is a professional photographer, just unemployed.

sy has spoiled his sister as much as he could. naturally, he accepts.

the model— going by the name of liu su mian hua— thanks him when he arrived at the set. it's a photoshoot with historical and wuxia elements, so miss liu is wearing a hanfu from her sponsor with a sword and a fan as props. sy's nerdiness and inspiration kicks in and he takes the pictures with gusto, focused on taking the most perfect picture he can.

he and miss liu are both happy by the end of the shoot. sy doesn't think that it would happen again, but it does. apparently, miss liu appreciated how he focused on the shoot itself rather than making passes at her. since sy is... well, an unemployed twenty-something year old with pretty much nothing to do, he accepts whenever miss liu requests him as the photographer.

he meets her brother three photoshoots later, who is as beautiful as she is. he seems mistrusting of sy at first, before slowly warming up. sy offers to take pictures of them both (they look so beautiful! so gorgeous! flawless!) and smiles so much at the results. the siblings are photogenic, and easily understands his instructions. truly the best subjects sy can hope for!

(lmy teases lqg when he gay panics bc he wants to ask out the pretty photographer. she's also taking down notes for her latest fanfiction.)

#svsss #shen yuan #liu qingge #liushen #liu mingyan #photographer sy au #tbf sy prob saved lqg in hs or smth #like as a passing stranger but lqg never forgot it #better if lqg was like ??? sj??? bc he and sj are in the ssme year #but like that's more lore the tags cant handle

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treatmelikeasmut · 2 months ago

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The Artist and the Engineer Part 1//Chapter Three//Pose Reference

<<PREV Master List NEXT>>

Pairing: Viktor x Fem!Artist!Reader

Series Synopsis: Heimerdinger wants a commemorative painting done of Viktor, who is not fond of the idea.

Chapter Synopsis: Viktor and the artist are back for their second session. He's being far more cooperative this time. But it seems the artist may have something to hide.

Word Count: 4.3k

Author’s Note: I'm still debating how I want to flip-flop between Viktor and reader. If it's going to be every other chapter, or if it's just going to be however the flow feels right.

Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog your favorite fics ❤️

~*~*~

You were late.

Super, incredibly late.

You’d gotten in the zone; playing music, working on a commissioned painting. You’d completely lost track of time. It was so easy for it to slip away like that. When you finally decided to take a break, the clock on the wall read five after two. Your apartment was ten minutes from campus if you ran like your life depended on it.

People clogged up the roads and sidewalks, which definitely didn’t help your situation. Some people yelled after you as you shoved through the crowd. You knew all too well the consequences of being late to appointments. You were just glad the spring thaw had finally seemed to be staying. The breeze no longer held its icy bite.

Still, sweat trickled down your spine as you finally made your way through the entry arch of the academy. You paused briefly, shielding your eyes as they hunted for the clock tower. It read 20 after. Cursing under your breath, you hustled towards the main door.

Standing just outside was a familiar face, Fallon, one of your friends who was still working through her undergraduate studies. Usually recognizable by her sizable stack of long, dark curls. She smiled, waving as she called you over. You returned the greeting.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you rushed.

“I just got out of of class, I have a before hours before my next one starts. You want to get lunch?”

“I would, but I have an appointment to keep and I’m running super behind!” You were already halfway through the door. “I’m so sorry, I swear, we’ll catch up soon! I’ll see you later"!”

Fallon called something after you, but it was lost when the door shut. You speed walked down the main corridor, and then turned into the hall that would take you towards the art wing. When you were sure there was no one around, you broke into a jog. You knew Heimerdinger’s assistant didn’t want to be doing this as it was. Being late was not going to help your case any.

Taking a moment, you caught your breath and wiped your sweaty forehead with a clean rag. You could only hope you weren’t too disheveled. Regardless of the paint stains on your clothes, you still had to appear somewhat professional. Running in soaked with sweat and panting was not the way to do that.

You were surprised to see Viktor already in the studio. Well at home on the chaise and deeply engrossed in his book. His long legs were stretched across the cushion, one cross over the other. He didn’t look up as you shuffled passed.

“You’re late,” Viktor observed, not unkindly.

“Yeah,” you panted, “Sorry - give me a moment and I’ll be ready.”

You hurried into the side room, and barely caught his words, “Take your time.”

In the side room, there was a wall of cubies. Each about as wide as your wing span and stretched about a foot over your head. They all had a wide shelf at the top and drawer in the bottom. Some of them were filled to the brim with covered canvases, others held only a sketch pad or an easel, most of them were empty. You were grateful the academy even had a reserved space for alumni artists. Not everyone had the space or the money to have a studio. You had a small corner where you kept your easel and paints in your own apartment. The entrance to your balcony was there, so it offered the best light. Just not the best view, since it over looked one of Piltover’s side roads.

You made your way to the one with a scrap of paper reading your name that had been stapled to the wooden surface. Tossing your bag into the bottom drawer, you dragged out your sketch pad, along with the pouch that held erasers, pencils, and a sharpener. Quickly double checking that no sticky fingers had made off with your extra supplies. Double counted your rolls of paper. Made sure your spare easel and the canvas you’d be using was all accounted for. That canvas was going to need prepped soon. That mental note got tacked to the back of your mind.

“Alright!” you sighed loudly, rounding back into the main studio. “Are we ready to start?”

Viktor looked up at you then, slotting a place holder into his book. His sharp eyes didn’t miss a beat, immediately zeroing in on your non-dominate hand. Narrowing as he studied it.

“Rough day yesterday?” he asked plainly.

You glanced down at the splint bound to your hand with white cloth. It held your ring finger and pinky straight. In the back of your mind, you could still hear the sickening sound of them breaking. Hastily, you shoved your hand in the big pocket of your overalls. You tried very hard not to wince at the pain.

“Something like that,” you told him. You tried to laugh, but it came out strained.

Viktor continued to watch you, as if he were waiting for you to elaborate. It left you feeling a bit like a specimen under a microscope. When you offered nothing he opened his mouth. Then closed it again. Finally, his gaze moved elsewhere.

It didn’t keep the shadows of the Alumni Studio from being oppressive, however. They sat heavy on your shoulder. Squeezed your lungs far too tightly. Making you itch for more than the dusty light coming in the high windows.

“Would you be too terribly opposed to sitting outside today?” you asked, then gestured behind you. “There’s a door not far that takes us to one of the inner court yards. It’s nice enough today.”

“Wherever you will have me.” Viktor shrugged, bringing his gaze back to you. Then he seemed to realize just how his wording came out. Clearing his throat, his ears reddened. Quickly, he corrected, “That is, wherever you wish me to sit.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. He was kind of cute when he was embarrassed. You swiftly erased that thought. “This way.”

Viktor trailed after you as you lead him out the side door and into another long hall lined on one side with windows. It was quiet between you, just the clink of his cane on the floor to let you know he hadn’t run off. A chill chased from the nape of your neck down your spine.

Finally, you came across the door to the court yard. The entire thing was relatively bare. Just a large circle carved from the same white stone as the rest of the building. There were a few low benches with arms, along with a sprinkle of large basins full of shrubs and moss. A couple trees grew from well maintained raised beds. You lead Viktor to your favorite one.

“Here,” you said, pointing to a bench backed by neat bushes.

Viktor sat, then you went to the edge of the low planter wall opposite him. You were both covered by the shade of a tall tree. It was just starting to sprout lively green leaves. You flipped to a new page in the pad. Then rifled through your pouch until your found your favorite pencil.

“I thought we would figure out your pose today,” you said, tapping the end of the pencil against the paper.

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “My pose?”

“Yes.” You nodded. “I want to do sketches of potential ones. It’ll help us figure out what will look best. - We also have to consider how comfortable it will be for you. I know what I’m thinking of, but did you have anything in mind?”

“I wouldn’t know -” Viktor awkwardly folded his hands in his lap.

“Try this.” You laughed a little, then moved to the edge of the wall, setting your stuff beside you. You adjusted your posture to be ramrod straight, your body set at an angle with your hands at waist height, cradling air. “Obviously you’ll be holding your book.”

Viktor tried his best to mirror your posture. Glancing at you, eyes flickering over your body. You knew it could be awkward. It was never easy posing people, it often felt too staged.

“Like this?” he asked.

You relaxed, taking a moment to check. Your mind was already doing a preliminary painting. But something wasn’t quite right. You stood, going to him.

“Almost, do you mind if I - ?”

Viktor looked at you for a long moment, then shook his head. “No, no - go right ahead.”

You nodded, then carefully covered the backs of his hands with your own palms. Applying just enough pressure with your fingers to guide him. His hands were smooth and chilled under your touch. You pulled the book a bit farther away from his chest, giving the pose some breathing room. “Hold that there. - Now this is going to feel unnatural, but I’m going to adjust your elbow. Now tilt the book itself back a little bit. We need a nice silhouette.”

You stepped away, looking him over one more time. Still just almost. You hummed, tapping a finger on your chin with the other resting on your hip. Viktor pursed his lips as you took his chin between the knuckle of your forefinger and your thumb. Guiding it to where it needed to be to follow the lines of his body.

“Now turn your hips out just a bit more,” you uttered. He followed suit without a word.

Once more, you stepped away to check composition. Perfect, except for his expression. His brows were furrowed as he stared very intensely at the pages. Without thinking, you placed your thumb between his brows. Trying to get him to relax. You’d done this before, many times, trying to get people’s expressions just right. You felt him go still under your touch, but the creased immediately went away in his surprise.

“Sorry.” You pulled your hand away. “I should’ve asked if it was fine to touch your face.”

“Don’t apologize,” Viktor muttered, glancing at your very briefly. “You simply me caught me by surprise. That is all.”

You were surprised that he was being far more cooperative today. You wondered what had changed in the last two days. Maybe Heimerdinger had said something. As long as it wasn’t about your deal, you’d be fine with whatever he had to say to get Viktor to sit until the portrait was complete. You needed this. Desperately.

“Hold this pose for a minute.”

You returned to your seat, pulling the drawing pad into your lap. You did a quick gesture drawing. Getting the lines right, carving out the silhouette with the side of your pencil. A few places needed smudged with the pad of your finger, blending until it felt right. You saw his hands begin to shake.

“Okay, you can relax,” you told him.

Viktor’s entire body slumped, then he stretched with his arms over his head. You had to admit, he was nice to look at. Long and lithe, the light carved out his features in a way you hoped you could recreate and highlighted the warm undertones in his hair. You looked back down at your sketch. You definitely hadn’t been exaggerating when you told Heimerdinger Viktor had nice features that you couldn’t wait to put on canvas. You laughed to yourself, thinking of your conversation with the professor.

“What is so funny?” Viktor asked lightly. “I most certainly hope my posing wasn’t that horrid.”

You looked up, surprised to see him bent slightly over you. Eyes on what you’d drawn. The intensity of them almost made you bashful about your work.

You shook your head. “Not you, just thinking of something I’d told Heimerdinger.”

Viktor hummed. “Nothing too awful, I hope.”

You chuckled again. “Only that I was glad you didn’t have fur.”

“Really?” Viktor asked, clearly amused.

“It took much longer to paint him because of it. He got a good laugh out of it, though.” You shrugged. “I forgot to ask - how was your day yesterday?”

Viktor straightened up, leaning on his cane. You would have to remember to sketch it. It was a nice cane, finely crafted. You wanted to make sure you got it right when you painted it.

“Eehhh…” Viktor’s eyes bounced as he searched for the right word. “Productive.”

You smiled at him. “I’m glad. I don’t want you to get too behind in your work.”

“Worry not, my partner is seeing to things in my absence.” Viktor hovered, hand readjusting on his cane. His gaze had settled on the branches over head. “I also had some time to reflect. I want to apologize for my behavior - I must not have made a good first impression.”

“It’s fine, really. I know how Heimerdinger can be. I thought he told you. I can’t really blame you for acting the way you did. So, no apology needed.” You stood, if only for something to do.

“Then let us begin anew. On the proper foot, this time.” He held out his hand. “I am Viktor, assistant to the Dean of the Academy and Hextech researcher. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

You found the effort endearing. You took his hand in yours, shaking it as you reintroduced yourself. “Recent University of Piltover graduate. Semi-professional in portraiture. It’s nice to make your acquaintance. I look forward to painting you, I’m very glad that you are not furry.”

Viktor gave you a real smile this time. It was nice to see. It suited him, opened up his face. Making you feel warm inside. You tried to shut that feeling down immediately. But you couldn’t help admiring the boyish charm in it.

“Now, shall we continue?” he asked.

You nodded towards the bench. “Be my guest.”

You walked him through a few more poses. A couple were an immediate ‘no.’ Either they just didn’t look natural on him, or he said it would be too difficult to maintain for long periods. By the end of it, you had settled for something simple. He would sit reclined against the back cushion, one arm resting on the arm of the lounge, the other holding his book. His legs would be crossed, with his left ankle resting on his right knee. Carefully keeping his brace from digging into his skin.

You considered this session a success.

When the clock announced three, you stood to stretch out your back. You were expecting Viktor to take his leave like a rabbit sprung from a trap. Instead, he sat and observed as you began to pack your things.

“Well, that’s the hour,” you announced. Wondering if he was waiting for a proper dismissal. “I figure I won’t keep you longer, I was the one who was late after all.”

“Actually,” started Viktor, “I find I have some spare time. I can stay another hour, if it’s needed.”

You paused. “Are you sure? You don't have to do that.”

He nodded. “Jayce can suffice another hour without me.”

“Alright then.” You couldn’t help but grin. “Since we've figured out your pose, I was wondering if it was okay to sketch your cane?”

Viktor glanced at where it laid next to him on the bench. “My cane?”

“For the painting.”

His expression was unreadable. “You want to include it?”

“Yes?” You cocked your head. “Why wouldn't I? Unless you don’t want it to be? - It’s your picture, at the end of the day. Heimerdinger is just sponsoring it. We don’t have to include anything you don’t want..”

“I -” Viktor frowned a touch, as if the idea had never occurred to him. He sighed. “That is perfectly fine.”

You sat on the ground in front of the bench. Viktor held the cane upright, turning it when you asked. You made little notes about colors, and where it was dullest from being held. All while being under his sharp gaze. You wondered what he was thinking. If he resented you at all, even though you were just hired to do a job.

“So…” Viktor cleared his throat. “Your fingers - what happened?”

Your whole body went rigid, freezing mid-sketch. You carefully avoided his eyes. Shaking your head, your forced yourself to keep drawing. “Nothing. I was clumsy. Tripped, landed on my hand wrong.”

A moment of silence, then a small hum. “At least it was not your other one.”

You muttered to the paper, “Not yet anyway.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I asked,” you stated louder, “will you tilt that to right a bit?”

Viktor obliged, though the movement was hesitant. You studied the cane intently. Trying not to meet his eyes. He had to know you were lying. That excuse hadn’t even sounded convincing to you. A few more minutes ticked by in silence.

“Tell me,” Viktor started again, “do you have a preference for coffee or tea?”

That one did make you look up. He ran a finger along the rail of the stone bench, watching you from the corner of his eye. The amber of them burning in a patch of sun. You told him your preference, to which he hummed. You searched your mind for something to ask him.

“So,” you started, “what all do you do for Heimerdinger?”

“Many things.” Viktor shrugged, as if it was the most uninteresting question in the world. “I do anything he asks.”

“I’ve heard you and Jayce Talis are the founders of Hextech. All the revolutionary stuff that’s appeared the last few years has been because of you. Is that true?”

Slowly, Viktor nodded. “He took the first steps, then together we built.”

“Then it’s no wonder that Heimerdinger wants your portrait done,” you started, a bit awestruck. “It’s not everyday this sort of thing comes along. - We’ll have to include something of it in your painting. Make sure everyone knows your face, too.”

“Right.” Viktor shifted in his seat. You pretended not to notice the pink blotches staining his neck. “Ah - I’m not well versed in art. Out of curiosity, how long does this sort of thing usually take? Professor Heimerdinger said this could take months, but surely not…”

“It could - it took me most of the four year graduate program to paint Professor Heimerdinger. The third and fourth year especially since I had to make a presentation to go along with it, but it was also hard to meet with him. Yours shouldn’t take nearly as long,” you told him. Your eyes traced the curves on the cane’s handle, your hand trying to follow along on the paper. “If I can focus, a painting this size takes…80 or 90 hours to complete. That isn’t including color matching and sketching, which could take it well over 100 -”

“100 hours?” Viktor repeated, jaw tight. Any openness that was once there now gone. “That is nearly four months of my time. More if one of us is not available!”

You nodded slowly. “I can try and speed up the process, but there’s no promises with this sort of thing. Some of it, I may not even need you there for.”

Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, sighing. “No, no - it’s fine. I will just have to accommodate accordingly.”

Your name echoed across the courtyard then and you both flinched. Glancing over your shoulder, you caught sight of Fallon. How had she even seen you? That ever present smile was on her face. She waved, curls bouncing as she jogged over to you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she laughed. Her eyes turned to Viktor. “Who’s your friend?”

“Not really a friend, more of an acquiantance. This is Viktor, the Dean’s assistant,” you said, “I’ve been commissioned. Sorry - Viktor, this is my good friend Fallon. She’s in her second year of her undergraduate studies.”

He nodded at her. “A pleasure.”

Fallon gasped, gripping your bad hand by the wrist. You hissed softly at the pain, grimacing. She turned your hand palm up, then back over.

“What did you do?” In a second the sweet Fallon was gone, a dark cloud sweeping over her features. She asked in a low voice, “He didn’t do this, did he?”

You tried to pull your wrist away, laughing awkwardly. “No, no, no - nothing like that. This is my own fault. Viktor is…sweet. He’s been very patient with me today.”

Just as quick as it appeared, the storm cloud passed and Fallon was back to her grinning self. Her gold skin practically glowed under the late afternoon sun. The light threading through her dark curls to highlight the red understones. Her eyes danced briefly over your face, then narrowed.

“I know how you can get,” Fallon scolded, releasing your wrist. “Have you eaten today?”

As if on cue, your stomach growled loudly. She put her hands on her hips, foot tapping against the stones. You gave her sheepish smile. “I got in late then was up early. I had some work to do.”

Fallon flicked your forehead. “How many times have I told you -”

“Yes, I know - take care of myself.” You rolled your eyes. “I’ve just…been busy.”

“You are never too busy to care for yourself. - I’ve decided I’m taking you to lunch.” Fallon pulled your arm, hauling you off the ground. Small but mighty, it seemed. “C’mon -”

“But I have to -” you argued, barely keeping a grip on your pencil and pad as you stumbled after her. “Uh - I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then, Viktor!”

You glanced over your shoulder to see him watching you. He almost looked like he was trying not to laugh. That sent a wave of embarrassment through you. You had the strongest urge to stick out your tongue or flick him off. But you didn’t. Just allowing yourself to be pulled out the door, barely being able to waylay her long enough to put your things away and grab your bag.

Fallon found a resturant close to academy for you both. The entire time she gave you a scathing review of your poor habits. But you knew it came from a place of concern. You’d done the same for her a few times. Especially around midterms and finals.

“So, anyway,” Fallon said, the stern tone fading. A mischievous grin took over. “That guy, huh?”

“Viktor?” you asked, taking a bite of your food. “What about him?”

“He was a cutie, wasn’t he?”

“Okay, first off - he’s way too old for you.” You rolled your eyes. Fallon had been unstoppable since she started at the academy. Constantly chasing one guy after the next. “You’re not even twenty yet. He’s like, 26 or 27.”

“As if that would stop me. Besides - I wasn’t thinking about me…” Fallon chuckled. Then licked her finger and rubbed at your cheek. “Hey, did anyone tell you there’s graphite on your face.”

You looked down at where your shiney, grey fingers held your fork. Then scrubbed at your cheek with your shirt sleeve. “Secondly, I haven’t really thought about it.”

She hummed, eyebrows raising briefly. “Liar.”

“I’m not!” You truly hadn’t, whether she believed you or not. “His has some nice lines. His eyes are a nice color -”

“So you’ve just been looking at him like an art project.”

“I guess, yeah.” Your face felt hot, so you swallowed down some ice water. “I can objectively observe someone’s beauty, ya know. You literally have to take an entire class about it.”

“All I’m saying,” Fallon pushed, “is that maybe you should stop looking at him as just a subject.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “You’re trying to set me up, and you don’t even know him.”

She held her palms up. “There’s more to life than work, that’s all I’m saying. And if you just happen to be able to be in the presence of a cute guy who’s stuck with you until the commission is done…”

“I don't want to make our sessions weird. Also, I already told you that I’m not really looking to date anyone right now.”

Fallon pouted. “But why?! There are so many cuties on campus. You’re just going to ignore them all?”

“I -” There were so many things you wanted to tell her. So many things that were safer if you didn’t. You just wished you at least one person to confide in. “I’m just not looking. I’m so busy with commissions and making sure that I can pay rent. It just wouldn’t be fair to try and balance a relationship. I wouldn’t be able to dedicate enough time. It would end badly. So it’s better off that I don’t.”

Fallon’s gold eyes watched you. They reminded you of Viktor’s a bit, but hers were missing the honey tones. Either way, they didn’t seem to miss a thing.

“You’re hiding something,” she said plainly, “what is it?”

You shook your head. “I’m not involving anyone in my life drama.”

“I’m your friend, you can trust me. I want to help if I can.”

“I know exactly the kind of help I need. - Trust me, I’m already dealing with it.”

“You don’t have to carry this burden alone.” Fallon reached over and touched your arm, staring at you with nauseatingly intense sincerity.

Finally, you sighed, leaned forward in the booth - and whispered to her the whole dirty truth.

____________________________________________________

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sizzlingcloudmentality · 6 months ago

Text

yes, ma'am

Dave York x dominatrix!reader | 9.5k w | explicit, mdni | ao3

summary: life goes sideways and Dave is close to snapping. he needs professional help. aka let himself be dominated and be at the receiving end for once. good thing he has your number.

warnings: sub-ish!Dave (how sub can a born dom be?), dominatrix!reader, no use of y/n, reader is able-bodied, Dave is a good husband and father™️, Molly throwing up, slight humiliation (the boy being called dummy <3), slight ball torture, (guided) masturbation (m), finger sucking, petnames (ma'am, good boy, love), cum eating, slight shoe worship, dick+pussy pronouns, reader wears lipstick, nail polish and stilettos, squint and you miss unprotected PinV; dm me if I missed any

a/n: my submission for @wannab-urs dmamc 2025. i had so much fun domming my man and I tried to make it believable because, well, he's Dave 'the dom' York. enjoy another character study including his dick. thank you @guiltyasdave for the beta and constant love, even though sub!Dave isn't your cup of tea 🥹💛

"Gentle eyes, soft words, tender chin scratches. You have his tail wagging. Slowly, slowly you are domesticating him into a dog, one praise at a time."

“Fuck!” His hand slams down on the steering wheel, once, twice. Again, again, again, until his palm hurts and the thrumming pain helps him to push aside the anger boiling inside of him. He rips down his beanie, ripping out a few hairs as well, not giving a shit about it.

He fucked up. If it wasn’t for his partner the mission would have gone south completely, pulling him along. The plan had been perfect, the preparations perfect as well. All he had to do was to pull the trigger and take the target out. But he fucking missed. He fucking missed. Hit the target into the shoulder, and if Dave’s partner didn’t take initiative and put a bullet through the target's head… He doesn’t want to think about it.

He already saw his domestic life passing before his eyes. The police arresting him at home, his daughters terrified and not understanding why they would take their daddy away. Carol at the trial, being questioned if she really didn’t know about her husband’s assassination side hustle, her face puffy and red from crying.

Dave hisses out another curse, hitting the hard wheel in front of him again.

He could always just disappear, always has an emergency duffle bag stowed away with fake IDs and some cash. But he wouldn't stomach it, couldn't stomach it, leaving his family behind.

It was a close call today… He starts the engine and pulls away from the curb, the tail lights of his inconspicuous car slowly blending in with the dozens of others on the nightly roads as he heads home to his inconspicuous life.

The next few days were difficult, to say the least. His higher up at the CIA was a pain in the ass, deadlines were piling up, Molly got sick and needed attention and care, Carol needed his support, the almost-failed mission was still breathing down his neck… He needed a break and there was no break in sight. Not now. His family needs him, his job does, he needs to fucking function now.

“Daddy, ‘m not feeling good,” Molly mumbles, curled up on the couch, her head in Dave’s lap while he’s working on a report on his laptop.

“Just a second, baby.” He’s almost done, he just needs a minute and the worst part of his report would be finished. Molly stirs on the couch, hastily now. God damnit.

“Daddy…” Her little body starts trembling and with a shudder and a sound that makes Dave’s heart hurt, she slumps over and pukes. All over his notes. Over his pants he had just picked up from the dry cleaning. All over the cream colored couch that Carol wanted so badly and that looks like shit now. All over his laptop. The screen flickers a last time before it goes dark.

“I'm so sorry… Please don't be mad, Daddy.” Molly starts crying, feeling sick and miserable, her little hands shaking as she grips her ruined blanket.

The vein on his neck, he feels it throbbing. His laptop, his fucking work laptop, broken. The sticky, disgusting warmth of what once was chicken soup seeps through his trousers and makes his eyelid twitch.

Just pick your baby up, just comfort her, just help her change into new pajamas, just be a good father, just be good…

“Daddy?” She sounds so fragile, her voice nothing more than a weak breath. She clumsily pushes herself up and accidentally nudges the laptop off of Dave’s knees. The carpet swallows the low thud when it hits the ground, but the cracking of the screen is still very much audible, just as much as Molly’s shocked gasp.

“You broke it. You fucking broke it, Molly,” Dave hisses and is on his feet in an instant, his daughter toppling back onto the couch, now crying even more because she upset her dad.

He doesn’t look over to her but picks up his laptop, trying to bring it back to life. The muscles in his jaw clench when Molly’s sobs start pealing in his eardrums. Dave turns towards her, a barked shut up already on his tongue when Carol appears in the doorway.

One quick look is enough for her to assess the situation. Their crying daughter, a picture of misery and guilt written all over her pale face and Dave, nostrils flared and one hand balled into a fist, the unmistakable smell of vomit reaching her nose… No, this wasn’t good.

“It'll take it from here, Dave,” she says when she strides past him. “Go and calm down.” There's no bite to her words, bite wouldn't do any good at this moment. It would only make it worse, make Dave lose the last bits of reason.

Carol scoops Molly up in her arms, pressing a few soothing kisses to the little girl’s temple. She looks over her shoulder and gestures towards the door with a tilt of her chin as if to say please, just go.

And he does. He flees from the living room and the feeling of shame that starts licking at his insides. It gets too much. A thought crosses his mind, a simple calculation, it has been almost ten months since…

A shiver runs through him and he shakes the idea off his mind like a dog tries to shake off an annoying tick. No, he wouldn't need to do it this time, there sure is another possibility to finally get a grip on his life. He just needs to focus more. Needs a better sleep regimen. More training. More protein. More control over all the small bits and pieces of his life.

Dave shuts the door to his home gym behind him and gets to work. If his muscles are trembling and his lungs are begging him for air, he has no time to think about what kind of an asshole father and husband he is. And so he starts tormenting his body to shut off his mind, to keep the guilt and shame at bay. For now.

That night, when he slips under the bed sheets, almost silently to not wake his sleeping wife, the idea creeps back into his head. Like a tick it has sunk its teeth into his skin and he can’t seem to get rid of it since the first time he has done… it.

It has helped him before, more than he likes to admit it. But he hates it. Because he cannot do it on his own. Because he needs someone else doing it for him, to him. And Dave never liked to be dependent on something or someone.

The sheets rustle and Carol’s hand finds his own, wrapping her fingers around his in the darkness as if she was trying to comfort him. But in reality she wanted his comfort and soothing. Dave wasn't a man who was dependent. Because he always was the man everyone else depended on.

He turns on his side and lifts her hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss to Carol’s knuckles.

She hums, shuffles closer, her feet slipping between his calves. After a moment of content silence a murmur crawls over the pillows to Dave and settles right on his chest, where the thought about it sits and gnaws at him like a night terror.

“Maybe… maybe you should go see that therapist again? They really helped you the last time.”

Therapist. That was what he told his wife you were. And the things you did, it was therapy. It is, in a way. It helped him. And he hates that it does. He hates that he can’t function like he needs to. He hates that Carol sounds so timid when she suggests therapy, afraid that he could snap at her, too, because she dares to point out his weakness.

He sighs, her soft knuckles still held against his lips. “Is Molly okay?”

“She’s a little better, yes.”

The silence weighs heavy for a moment, Carol’s unanswered question pressing down on Dave’s rib cage. Or is it the feeling of guilt? About being a shit show of a father and husband? About needing you to function, even if it all feels so wrong but afterwards it always feels good and right and he feels better, every damn time?

“I'll make an appointment,” he murmurs and his lips find her ring finger, kissing the spot where the simple golden band always sits. She never takes the ring off, just like him. Carol nestles into his arms, the relief clear when she whispers her thank you, I love you into the hollow between his clavicles. God, he is such a failure, he thinks to himself with his wife in his arms and you in his mind.

You are completely booked out. Months ahead. Of course you are. There never is a shortage of people who want your services. Or to be exact, who need them. So when you received the request for an appointment “asap, ma'am”, signed by David York, you told him you were free again in three months. But then another customer canceled their session and because you like David, you give preference to him.

So a week and a half later you find yourself entering the bar of the Rosewood, one of the finest hotels of the city. Doors magically open because there’s always some finance or marketing guy holding them open for you. Each step with your pointy high heels parts the crowd in front of you and is paved with sleek smiles and licked lips of the men who move out of your way.

You pay them no mind, they only exist at the periphery of your focus. They are not important and will never be. What is important is your customer for this day. You recognize him, the way he sits at the bar, one foot on the footrest of the empty stool next to him, the other one firmly planted onto the ground. Just another pretty man in a suit, interchangeable for most who might look at him.

But for you he was different. A customer, first and foremost. A challenge, too. And he's probably the only man in this bar who is not doubling over to get a crumb of your attention. You had to work for what your customers usually give you gladly and freely: their acceptance and sometimes even devotion.

That is why you like Dave York, because working for him and with him is rewarding. It satisfies you to no end to finally turn his smoothness into something with cracks and weaknesses. And to have him thank you for it.

One of the many men in suits in this bar moves from his place on the outer borders of your attention into the spotlight and obscures the view on Dave. The guy looks you up and down, tries to smile a flirty smile but all you see is a pathetic obstacle. Your mouth already opens to tell him no to whatever suggestion he wants to make, when a big hand lands on the man's shoulder.

Thick fingers, blunt nails, a simple golden wedding band. You look past the surprised strangers face and find Dave, standing behind the man.

“Sorry buddy, not tonight,” Dave tells the man. For a moment they look at each other, like two wolves who found a piece of meat and now silently fight for ownership. Two alphas in suits. But only one of them is a wolf, the other one is just a dog.

“Not ever,” you add when you pass the stranger. The sting of your words gets soothed by your sweet smile, showing off your wolfish canines as you do. Your gaze meets Dave’s own. Two alphas looking at each other again, this time both are wolves.

You don't even bother to care about the other man who disappeared into insignificance as quickly as he had the guts to peek his head out of it. Your focus is solely on Dave now. He looks tired, frail even in the small details of his facial expression. He already looks cracked, maybe you wouldn’t have to work as hard as usual today.

“It has been a while.” You sit down at the bar and Dave gestures for the bartender. He always orders you a drink before you both go up to the booked suite. He never not acts according to the unspoken rules of those kinds of arrangements. He is polite and respectful, even if the air around him very much tastes like aversion. Not against you as a person or the work you do. The aversion is directed against himself and the fact that he was sitting in this bar with you and not at home with whoever was waiting there for him.

He nods his head. That would have to do as an answer. “The usual?” he asks instead when the bartender waits for the order.

“The usual,” you confirm and watch Dave order your vodka on ice. It is a nice change of pace, to not talk and to enjoy the silence, to stretch it like a fabric until it becomes see-through and the silent words between them become audible. Two wolves, dressed in white shirts and blouses, in polished shoes, mustering each other over the rims of their glasses. Sizing each other up.

You take a big sip of your vodka and set the glass down. There’s still a good portion of the booze left, but you need to keep a clear mind for what comes next.

“Are you done?”

Usually he obliges and leaves the rest of his drink on the counter, usually he wants to get over and done with it, with you, with himself. But tonight his need for some more liquid courage is bigger.

“Not yet, ma'am.” His legs spread a little more when he leans back on the barstool. Not in a sleazy manner, not to act like he is hung like a horse. No, taking up space comes naturally to him. And again he is respectful about it. He gives your crossed legs enough room between his thighs, almost like he acts as a buffer between the bustling bar and you.

A thought crosses your mind and makes you smile. He is protective, even though you mean nothing to him. You stretch out your leg, just enough to let the tip of your pointed stiletto brush against his shin. A silent praise for him being good.

Dave’s hand suddenly grabs your ankle, following his first impulse of inhibiting an unwanted touch. Your eyes snap up and meet his, your surprise showing in your raised brows. The grip of his fingers loosens immediately, like he touched something that he wasn’t allowed to, like a too hot cookie fresh from the baking tray.

“Finish your drink then.” A demand dressed up as a friendly request. You pull your foot away, Dave’s privilege of getting a feel for you is already over.

“Yes, ma'am,” he says lowly, just loud enough to be heard over the hustle and bustle of the bar. He swirls his drink in his glass and takes another look at you. You look like some partner in a law firm or some higher up shoving around numbers on paper and employees in meetings. Expensive clothes, expensive designer bags, expensive heels. He had seen them often enough to know that you only wear those 700$ pairs. You’re sleek, smooth, polished, with edges that look round and safe to touch but will cut through skin and flesh if you want to.

He takes a sip of his drink and watches you smile, the red lip stretching over your teeth. He feels a part of him getting excited, this one stupid part of himself, the part which constantly makes troubles. Some corner of his brain just loves this. And apparently needs it too, needs it to make him function as a person. This little part loves to make you smile. And he hates it.

You let him finish his drink, let him buy himself a few more minutes before you leave the bar and enter the grand and shiny hotel lobby. Having people move out of your way just by the way your heels click is satisfying. But having someone in front doing it for you is better. You watch Dave plowing through the lobby as he makes his way to the elevators. His ass looks cute, you think to yourself and enter the cabin with him.

He’s so well behaved for you, pressing the buttons, shielding you from the other guests and making sure you can stand comfortably without anyone standing too close to you, himself included, You smile at him again and for a moment one corner of his lips twitch. Good, that's good. He's responsive tonight.

Dave exits the elevator and struts through the long hallway, countless doors left and right until you reach the right one. A quiet beep when the key card opens the door, muffled footfall on the thick carpet and a discreet click when he closes and locks the door behind you both again. Another reason you love this hotel so much, beside the soft beds and high end shower products in the marble bathrooms: the soundproofing.

No matter how hard the stomp, how loud a scream, how sharp a smack, the walls of these rooms seem to swallow the noises and they are never sated. They drink down every word and whisper and always seem to want more. Like the people you work with.

“Tell me about your rules and limits tonight, David,” you say and look around the suite for a moment. You gesture for him to sit down on one of the plush chairs facing a full body mirror.

All you know about Dave is his name, his phone number and another number as an emergency contact. The rest is guesswork you did over the last months and years. The golden ring on his ring finger? He never takes it off. He's married or maybe widowed.

Dave takes off his jacket and hangs it over the backrest of the velvet chair. One time a little toy figurine fell out of his pocket when he took his jacket off. So there must be a child who he has a close enough relationship with for it to sneak little gifts into his pockets. This time nothing out of the ordinary happens. He simply follows your instructions and sits down.

“The same as always.” He lifts his hips again to tug his slacks down, just enough for them to not cut into his groin. “Nothing that leaves marks on me, no touching me between waist and knees, no restraints, no gagging, nothing enters my body, nothing leaves my body without my consent.”

Yeah, just like you thought. “So basically just talking. You know, you could have ‘just talking’ a lot cheaper, down at the bar for example.” You pull a chair for yourself closer to Dave, with the mirror diagonal behind it.

“I'm not here for just talking,” he says quietly with his eyes fixed on his knees.

“Oh I know, don't you worry.” You sit down now, your legs crossed over your knees and one of your high heels swaying in the air just between Dave's spread legs. “Next: safety. Repeat the rules for me, will you?”

He looks up at you and sighs. “We use the color system. Green means more, yellow means keeping the intensity, red means stop.” He likes the simplicity of this system, appreciates it at home, and loves the way Carol loses it whenever he keeps her on yellow for a little too long. But he doesn’t like to be the one using it himself.

“Good. What else means stop?” Your leg is slowly bouncing up and down and Dave's focus shifts to the pencil thin heel for a moment.

“The… the safeword. Helsinki.”

His eyes meet yours again. Dark ponds of raging brown, the storm behind them perfectly contained, for now. “And…?” you prompt, prodding him a little bit with the sweetness in your voice.

“And there's no shame in using my safeword. Or not using it if I'm… feeling good.” He almost chokes on the last words. There is shame in the whole situation, no matter how he looks at it. But you smile again and this one part of him is relieved. He did good, fuck.

“Good job, you remembered,” you praise and the shiny leather of your shoe ghosts along his calf. “Let's start then. No touching yourself or me and no talking unless I tell you to. Got it?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He never sounded less enthusiastic than now. His pretty mouth curves into the tiniest scowl and he looks a little more handsome like this. In another life you two could have a lot of fun. Real fun. Fucked up fun.

In another life you might kneel before him and beg for some peace of mind. He could be the therapy the therapist needs. But not in this life. Because in this he was the one needing peace of mind and you were the provider.

“Now, Dave, I want you to take a deep breath and look at yourself in the mirror. Right into your eyes.”

He obeys. When he meets his own gaze through the mirror the scowl becomes more prominent. You will let him sit with his own thoughts for a minute or so. Enough time to recap your last sessions with him.

Pretty quickly into your business relationship with Dave you found out about his history with the military. No details really, you just knew that he had served for several years. Being degraded on a daily basis in your forming years does something to the brain. And it surely did something to Dave's brain because his tough outer layer cracked beautifully for you as soon as you called him a ‘weak fucking loser’.

And that was all that you did since then: humiliating him, watching him turn from the hard and controlled man into one who is struggling to loosen up and finally a man who spits out ‘Helsinki!’ and flees from the scene with a raging boner. He is the weirdest customer you have. Because his requests are so tame, so small scaled for what you could do and for what he could really take.

But all you had to do was calling him names and having him palm himself through his pants. You are not exactly complaining, he paid you as much as the guys who go the whole nine yards. Dave makes you work for your money though. It is a fight, every time.

You see it in his face, he is fighting right now, while he stares himself down through the mirror. A fight he can never win. His upper lip twitches, like he is going to growl at his own reflection any moment. Oh, it is clear as day to you, he really needs this session.

You might need to switch things up a bit, you want your customers satisfied after all. And the way he glares at himself tells you that he needs more today.

“What are you thinking, tell me.”

Your voice pulls him out of his spiraling thoughts. It’s sweet like honey but also sticky. He knows that your mouth is a sugary trap. Every word and gesture and touch a carefully laid out crumb to lead him to where you want him: staring up at you, doing whatever it takes to get your sugar lips to smile at him.

A little nudge of your heel against his thigh. A little harder than it had to be to get his attention. He doesn’t like that he likes it.

“Whimp,” Dave says with heartfelt disdain.

“What else? And keep looking at yourself.” Your heel digs a little more into his thigh and you can feel the tremble of his muscle beneath his slacks. He sure was a runner, you think. Thick thighs look so pretty with a few streaks on them. But no, no marks. “You can tell me everything, you know?”

Dave swallows thickly, the soft velvet of your voice is making his throat tight. He's trapped, caged in between your shiny stilettos and your mouth. His thigh throbs against the thin heel.

He takes in his reflection, the man in power, in slacks and a crisp white dress shirt, in polished shoes. A high heel prodding him. His fingers clutching the armrests. His face tight and sour. His wedding ring glinting.

“Cheater.”

You hum, pleased with his answer and gracing him with a small smile in return. So he is in a relationship. Good, this would make it easier. For you.

Your foot moves, the pointy heel being exchanged with the flat of the sole, pressed against his inner thigh. You drag it up the seam, just a little bit.

This is breaking the ‘no touching’ rule. And yet, he endures, fighting his silent internal fight.

Interesting.

“What’s your color, love?” You tilt your head to the side, enjoying how Dave’s nostrils flare at your audacity. He is defying the sweetness of your words. But he wants more of the stickiness. Just a little bit. It won’t hurt, right?

“Green,” he grits out. Fucking whimp, cheater, loser, failure, he tells himself silently through the mirror. Your sole moves higher now, the pointy tip already indicating towards your final destination.

Green. He wants more, he will get more. Your shoe slides higher and leaves a trail of dusty dirt on his clean pants. He will hate that, you know he will, because you would be pissed off, too.

“Are you not embarrassed, Dave? Sitting here, paying money for this? What would she say, if she knew?”

His eyes snap from the mirror to you, the corner of his lips move into another scowl. The wolf would be baring his teeth soon.

You tap the sole of your shoe against his crotch, just enough for a little sting that lets him jump slightly. Dave looks at you, stunned. Such a pretty sight.

“Oh what's with the attitude now? Did I say you could look at me?” You smile at him, the tip of your tongue running along the edges of your teeth. “Do you think you deserve it, looking at me, dummy?”

His eyes widen and his mouth opens, ready to protest, to call this off, ready to show you your place. But the only thing leaving his throat is a choked sound. Probably because you keep rubbing your foot into his groin, pushing into the not-so-soft-anymore softness.

“Eyes back on the mirror.” Another quick rap, sole meeting joined seams, another jolt and, oh yes, a moan, finally. The walls with their expensive satin tapestry greedily drink down the throaty sound. “Now.”

Your command has nothing of the powdered sugar quality anymore and he obeys. Who even is he, he wonders for a moment of clarity when he meets his own eyes through the mirror again. A stupid man, growing hard under the shoe of a stranger, a stupid man with a loving wife at home. A stupid man with guns hidden all over town. Growing hard.

He looks into the mirror, feeling detached from his own reality. He watches the shiny shoe move between the thighs of this man in the mirror, he sees the stomach of the man tense under his dress shirt, he notices how the man's mouth opens. He hears him groan, this man who looks like himself.

“God, are you seriously turned on by this? That's embarrassing. No wonder you pay me for it instead of getting it at home.” You love being mean for money and you love how Dave writhes beneath your high heel and squirms under your gaze. “Do you like this? Answer me, dummy.”

“Yes.” You only get a single hissed word as an answer. Adorable.

“Yes what?” you hiss back, applying a little more pressure to the bulge showing so beautifully.

“Yes, ma'am,” he snarls now. The wolf is showing his teeth and you're gonna pull one out. You are the only one allowed to bite in this arrangement.

“Christ, do I have to spell it out for you, stupid?” Your foot drops lower, right over the tight little package nestled under the thick, elongated dick outline. The pointy shoe tip slowly pokes into the squishy warmth of Dave’s clothed balls. His breath hitches. “Yes, ma'am, what?” you prompt him, the sugar returning to your words.

“I… I like this, ma'am.” His eyes are still glued to the picture in the mirror and he seems to register that this is him. The visual of an expensive high heel pressing against balls matches the thrumming, stingy feeling of pain in his own slacks. And another thing belongs to him, besides the pain. The jumping hard-on, right above this damned shoe.

He swallows thickly, his blunt nails digging into the velvet of the armrests. “Fuck. I like it,” he stutters, staring at his face, like he is seeing himself for the first time. Like he recognizes himself. His stormy eyes become a little calmer, the silent internal fight becoming more quiet.

“There we go. Good job.” You pull your foot away from him and lean closer, elbows to knees, one finger coming up to his chin. He just now notices that your nail polish matches your lipstick. The color would look good around his dick. In another life.

“Look at me,” you croon, laying out your trap for him again. The pad of your finger so warm and gentle under his chin, guiding his eyes to yours. You're smiling, red stretching over white, he did good and his cock throbs against the zipper. He’s wagging his tail for you.

“Good boy.” You lean closer and he can smell your perfume, the mint and vodka on your breath, your amber-scented dominance tinted in black and scarlet. The sweetness of your praise coats his tongue and he swallows it down, to make it a part of him. A little secret part on the inside only he knows about.

“Color?” Soft, alluring, a trap made for him to curl up in.

He takes a moment to think, but not too much. The thinking part of his brain was already beginning to shut down. “Green,” he rasps with his eyes fixed on the way your eyebrows dance when you smile again.

“Good. Now, I have a question for you.” Your thumb rubs against his chin, just enough to feel the day worth of scruff beneath the digit. “Will you take your cock out for me? Let me see him?”

Gentle eyes, soft words, tender chin scratches. You have his tail wagging. Slowly, slowly you are domesticating him into a dog, one praise at a time.

Dave nods his head. There’s no harm in showing his dick. That doesn't make him a cheater, he tells himself. Maybe he could make you smile again, he knows he has a good cock. Good balls too. Maybe you could squish them again. Just a little bit.

“That's a good boy. Show him to me. Show me how hard I make you.” You lean back in your chair and watch Dave hesitantly fumble with his belt, then top button, then zipper. He still has a little fight left in him. You would be concerned if not. A man like him will never give up completely, that is what makes him so interesting for you, so much fun to play with.

The teeth of the zipper hiss, the fabric rustles when he pulls it over his ass and down his thighs, over his knees. He looks a bit disgraceful like this, sitting in the velvet chair, slacks pooled around his shoes, tented black briefs, looking at you expectantly. You would have let him take his shoes off and fold his pants if he wanted. But he chose to be… excited. And a little impatient. Truly adorable.

You move a little closer again, inspecting what you can see so far. You never saw his dick and usually you are not too keen on seeing your customers’ genitals, they were just extensions, more of the canvas you like to work on. But since Dave always made a fuss about decidedly not showing signs of arousal you became curious. Out of professionalism, of course.

It was looking good, the tent. A thick head pressed against the cotton and crowned with a now black, later milky stain.

“You’re leaking? For me?” You sound like he presented you with a bouquet of flowers or a painting he doodled with crayons. You reach out, your fingers stopping shy before touching the wet spot. You look up at him, a glint of horror in his eyes. No touching, with your hands. “Is this okay?”

A head shake and a dry swallow, then he finds his voice again. “No. Ma'am. I’m sorry.” You touching him would be cheating; in his head this makes sense.

“That's okay, don't worry.” You purse your lips, tapping a finger against the red on them. Then you hold out your hand, palm up. “Lend me a hand?”

Dave hesitates. His dick protesting with stirs against the briefs, not caring about who would touch him and how. He puts his hand in yours, trusting that you would accept his limit.

And you do, of course, you're a professional. Which means you know how to work your way around limits and how to stretch boundaries. You guide his thumb to the wet, glossy spot and rub the pad over the fabric, once, twice, until Dave grunts from the tingling friction.

“Let me know how you taste,” you coo and lift his thumb to your mouth. You open it wide, your tongue sticking out, reversing the roles but he still is your wolf in a dog costume. His eyes glint and for a second you can smell his dominance, too, lingering under the scent of his precum.

Two beasts who recognize each other, just for the fragment of a second, as you look into each other's eyes. But only one can be in charge tonight. You lean in and take his thumb into your mouth. Deeply. You sink down until your lips leave a red lipstick print around the base, one half on his palm, the other half on the back of his hand.

He tastes salty, with a sharp bite to it, just like the man himself. He presses his thumb deeper, can’t resist to have the upper hand with you just once. Your pussy clenches. She likes him.

Oh, in another life, you would let him wreck you. But not now. You suck his finger until you can’t taste his precum anymore and pull off of him.

“Kneel.”

He huffs and his brows draw together. “What?”

“Wrong answer, stupid.” Your foot snaps up, sole pushed against his hard dick, pointy heel somewhere in between his balls. “Try again.”

There it is again, the storm in his eyes. He is so much fun to work with, so easy to rile up, always keeps you on your toes. The same toes that feel Dave's cock throb through his briefs and the leather of your shoe. You move your heel from left to right, just enough to make him squirm and hiss.

“Yes, ma'am.” That's what he says but it sounds a lot like ‘fuck you’.

You laugh at that, sit back in your chair and put your foot back down on the ground. “That's more like it. Come on, chop chop. On your knees.”

He does as he is told. Growling and glaring, avoiding his ridiculous reflection in the mirror, of a tough guy with his pants around his ankles and leaking like his cock is drooling for you. Dave finds himself on his knees as he sinks into the thick carpet. Your feet are right in front of him, he catches a glimpse of his face in the glossy black tip of your heels. He looks twisted, but unmistakably like him.

“And now: touch yourself. Over your briefs. Nice and slow. Eyes on my shoes.” You place one foot on his thigh and his eyes follow the movement without moving too much. “You seem to like them?”

His hand, the one with your lipstick on it, runs along his length, slowly, calculated, avoiding his sensitive tip as he does. “Yes, ma'am,” Dave mutters and squeezes his girth like he's trying to soothe himself because your voice doesn’t do it anymore. It's all harsh now and not sticky-sweet.

Your heel gets pressed into his thigh, the thin end biting into his skin. “Yes, ma'am, what?”

His jaw ticks. His thumb is soothingly rubbing over the head of his cock, knuckle pushed against the underside. “Yes, ma'am, I like your shoes.”

“I thought so. You got so hard for them, didn’t you?”

He takes a deep breath and keeps on palming himself, a steady back and forth. The wet blotch grows. “I-...” He breaks off when you start caressing his balls with your sole. Back and forth. Front to back, in the same rhythm as he strokes himself. “I did get hard for them, yes. For you, ma'am.”

He just wants some of that sugar back, some of those honeyed words from you. He's on his knees already, what else could you want?

You let him kneel and watch his hand move, register his hip twitch. You brush your fingers through his hair, just a light pet.

“Take him out now. I can look at him, right?”

He nods his head and tugs himself out. Caught behind the waistband you get a first peek. Girthy, a stunning color, a dusty rose turning into an earthy pinkish-red, cut, a clear bead of precum forming over the slit before it runs down and spreads over the already glistening skin.

With another tug he pushes his briefs under his sack, forcing it up nice and tight, right under his cock. He has a slight curve, too. Fucking perfect. Your pussy clenches again.

Dave's hand fists the base, some of your red lipstick transfers to his shaft. The closest your mouth will probably get to him. Such a shame, you think, swallowing down some pooling spit, because you really would like to get a sore jaw from sucking him off.

“Now that's a pretty cock you got there. Hold still.”

You crouch over to Dave and place your palm over his hand, giving his dick a good squeeze with Dave's hand.

“I won't touch him, I promise. But let me guide you.” Molasse thick, that's how your voice sounds. Almost too thick to be swallowed down.

He manages to do it nonetheless. Ignoring that this is out of the comfort zone of David York, the husband and father. But oh, those words taste delicious for the man who knows rules and laws but lives outside of them.

His own hand relaxes under yours and with the first stroke another yes, ma'am drips from his lips.

This is a strange feeling. He guided several hands in his life, taught them where to rub, how to twist, how much to squeeze. But having his own hand touch him with those foreign movements was… new. Sexy. Frustrating too, because you seem to know exactly what not to do.

He looks down between his thighs and sees two hands moving and he really tries to imagine it was just your hand. He wants your touch. Christ, he wants your mouth on him, too. And you would do it, you would gladly accept the proposal and call him a good boy again. But he can't. He can't do it, it's not the right thing to do. He feels his wedding ring slide up over his tip and back down. No, he can’t have you touch him directly.

But he can give in to you a little more. His dignity hangs over the other chair, taken off together with his jacket right at the beginning. You might as well make him your bitch. He throbs against his fingers and Dave asks himself if you can feel it, too. Without being able to stop it his hips buck into his fist, your fists. You were moving his hand so goddamn slow, he needs more. More pressure, more speed.

“Are you not happy, love? Are you being ungrateful?” You slow down even more until your palms reach his top again. Dave has lubed himself up so nicely with his own precum, you can feel it spreading between your own fingers. With a tight grip you flick and twist, like screwing open a bottle, twisting the cork out of a bottle of champagne.

Dave’s body jerks as do his hips and he moans again, feeding the soundproofing of the hotel room the delicious sounds he makes.

You tut at him, smirking and mocking and twist his hand over his cock again.

“Oh, so you are ungrateful? You have to ask for the things that you want, dummy, That's how this works.” You loosen your grasp and straighten your back, cross your arms and then your legs until the sole of your shoe hovers over his balls. “So…? Are you ungrateful?”

He shakes his head and fights the urge to rock himself against your shoe. More precum gets pushed out of his slit, he fucking aches. He could just spit out the safeword and jerk it in his car, like usual. But he is too proud for that. He is going to finish what he started here, in this room with you.

“No, I’m not. I just-...” he breaks off when you start bouncing your foot, knocking against his balls with almost gentle pats. Dave clutches his girth with a groan, his hips bucking forwards again. “I…,” he strokes himself once, hoping you would get the implications without having to put it into words.

A finger hooks under his chin again, he can smell himself on your skin. A nudge and he looks at your face again, the way you bare your teeth at him in a graceful smile doesn't cover up the authoritative tone hidden in your sweet words.

“You already did so good today. But I want you to do one last thing, yes?” You rub your finger under his chin, smearing some of his sticky precum over his skin. “Will you try it, for me?”

He'd do a backflip, if you kept up the carrot and stick game for a little longer.

And then you do it again, showing him the treat he could have if he only was a good enough boy for you. You start licking your hand clean. Languid laps with the flat of your tongue, starting with the little finger.

“Love, I want you to fuck your hand. You don't have to hold back.” You suckle on the tip of your finger before licking Dave's salty residue off of the next one. You stop at the tip, twirl your tongue around the fingernail painted all ruby and smile at him. Just as if you were licking an ice cream spoon clean.

“Just make sure to keep your hand still and fuck into it.” Now middle and index finger. Your tongue runs over both of them before you put them into your mouth. In and out they go, sluggish and without hurry, you hum at the taste like it's the sweetest cream.

And then, instead of doing a backflip, Dave starts moving his hips. His eyes glued to your mouth and the red of your lipstick transfers to your fingers before it disappears in the dark, tight, wet cavern of your mouth.

His hand doesn't feel anywhere close to what he imagines your mouth does. Dave is just glad that he can finally care for his aching boner. With every thrust, in sync with your fingers sliding in and out between your lips, his balls slap against the leather sole of your shoe. It stings, but it stings good. He didn’t even know he liked this before tonight. Before your expensive stiletto pressed and rapped and pushed into them.

He ruts his hips faster now, not matching the speed he needs, but he makes it up with squeezing himself hard. Soft squelches come from between his legs now with every back and forth. More noises for the thick carpet and walls to swallow, never to be heard again.

You’re sucking on your thumb now while Dave's clutching himself harder, hips thrusting in a relentless pace. He fucks his hand like you told him to.

He looks so perfect in the mirror, that little piece of ass that you can see from your angle. Clenching and unclenching, the movements draw you in, hypnotize you. The perfect cream-white canvas for blotches of red and sprinkles of violet, for scarlet streaks, oval imprints of your teeth even.

You lick your lips when his thighs start trembling. How good he would look if he fucked himself on your strap-on. In another life, you muse and press your thighs together. The sound your thumb makes between your lips resembles the one that will come from your wet cunt later, when you're at home again. With Dave's salty taste in your mouth and a girthy vibrator, one to match the size of his cock.

His eyes meet yours again, just for a second before they dart down to your tongue again when you start licking your palm. He's still in there, the hard man, the one who's fighting against himself, the one who probably whispers insults inside his head. You can see him in that short moment, somewhere swimming in the stormy mahogany.

You stop licking your palm when Dave winces after snapping his hips harder into his hand and his balls against your sole. He’s at his personal limit.

“Almost there, love, hm?” Another lap to your palm, seemingly unbothered by the state he is in. “Do you want to come?”

He groans and growls, his glutes are burning, his knees hurt, his fucking balls thrum. Oh, he wants to come alright. “Yes, ma'am,” he grits out.

“Say that you're pretty when you fuck your hand for me.” Your tongue flicks over your palm again and reveals your canines again. Just a wolf cleaning her silky fur.

If the need for his orgasm wasn't bigger than his pride, he would have rolled his eyes and fucked that smug smile right out of your face. But he really, really needs to come. He is so close. He can play along a little longer.

“I'm pretty when I fuck my… fucking hand for you,” he snarls and a something in the depth of his guts starts fluttering with a burning strength.

“Good job. You really are pretty like that, love.” You pull the leg of your pants up, the heavy, black fabric now rests bunched up on your knee. Dave still ruts into his hand, chasing the release he knows he can’t have that easily.

“Say ‘I will make a pretty mess for you, ma'am.’,” you order and push your fingers through his hair, careful to not ruin his side part. A single unruly strand gets fixed with your spit-wet fingers. Nothing that leaves marks on me. Well, he can wash off your little saliva mark later.

More carrots, more sweet words and sugar touches, more of your smug but also content smile. Christ, he just wants to do something right. And you are offering him an easy fix. Dave whines and leans into your touch. Vigorously he pounds his hand, his balls trapped between his waistband and your sole and it all feels so warm, hot, his pulse beats in his ears and throbs in his straining cock. “I will make a pretty mess for you, ma'am. Fuck. I need to move my hand.”

His big browns look up at you, same parts furious, pleading and desperate.

“Say please,” you chirp and tilt your hips to feel the middle seam of your pants pressed against your clit. “Be good, say please and you can come for your ma'am.”

“Please. Fuck, please!” he barks as he steps into your honeyed trap you have laid out for him from the beginning. He is stuck in it knees first, tail between his legs, barking, howling, wagging. How to catch a wolf.

“That's my good boy. Go on, you can come. Make a mess.”

He did good, thank god. Dave starts moving his hand, jerking his cock hard and fast, his teeth sink into his flew to bite back a loud howl when he feels himself coming.

It is beautiful to watch for you, how his eyes roll back slightly, how his hand moves so fast that the smacking sounds are like a rapid fire, how he thrusts a few more times into his tight fist until he squirts his thick creamy cum all over. It feels hot on your skin, like molten wax poured over your shin, down to your foot and finally your high heel.

You moan in unison with Dave. You never are above feeding the soundproofing some of your noises as well. An offering to the gods, to keep you blessed with men like Dave.

He continues to stroke himself, choking on a few whimpers, milking the last remnants of cum out of him. His wedding band isn't shining as much now, all dull and foggy with his seed dimming the golden hue. His hand trembles, his runner thighs tremble too, his briefs, still tucked under his balls, are ruined and he slowly, slowly loosens his hard grip around his cock.

“Love, you did so good. That wasn't so hard, was it?” His cum starts running down your leg now and you both watch it for a moment.

“I'll get you a tissue,” he mutters breathily, ready to finally get off his knees and gain some dignity back.

“Nuh uh. Clean up without tissues or towels.” Nothing enters my body without my consent. He looks at you and scoffs out single disbelieving laughter. You shrug your shoulders. “Listen, you came this far. You can be a coward and use your safe word. Or you can take responsibility and clean up the mess you made. It's an easy task.”

You are right. It is an easy task, compared to the mess his life is. It's easy. It's easy. It's easy. He leans forward and swallows, thickly. He looks up at you and sticks his tongue out. It's easy.

You lift your leg up to his mouth, nodding your head, smiling, baring your teeth like a docile pet wolf. Dave's tongue meets your skin, smooth under his slick, powdery scent under his salty stench. He licks a stripe from your ankle up your shin, then another one and another one. Slowly. It's easy. One lick at a time. Fixing the mess he made.

His clean hand holds your foot, nestled in your stiletto, and he laps his cum from the bridge with shorter strokes.

Dave doesn't flinch away from his own taste, he’s licked his own hands clean often enough to enjoy it to a degree. A form of cannibalism, eating his young, feasting on his own potential.

He cleans your skin, lifting your foot higher and his tongue pressed into the small gaps between the leather and your toes. You pet his head again, humming, purring under his ministrations. Dave's lips purse half above the leather and half above your skin, a small kiss before he sucks his cum out of the tiny gap.

It really is easy. He licks over the glossy black, leather and salt coating his senses, another sugary good boy in his ears and in his hair your claws graze over his scalp.

A few more licks and kisses and the creamy white has disappeared from the shiny piece of leather. He can see himself in it again. A twisted image, but unmistakably Dave.

He rubs his spit into the smooth animal skin, you can wash his mark off later if you want. He's done. With cleaning and with this. It's over, for tonight at least.

He lowers your stiletto onto the thick carpet again and offers free sight to his spent cock, heavy and sticky. No more wagging, no more dog. He's back to being an equal.

“You did amazing, Dave. Really good.”

Your hand falls to his shoulder, giving him a gentle pat before you rise to your feet and over him your hand to pull him up. He takes it, groaning quietly when his knees crack. Dave feels a little shaky, or maybe more shook than shaky. But he feels good, lighter, loose. Not even ashamed.

“Can I get you anything? Something to drink, something to eat?” You don't even wait for his answer and turn to the minibar, pulling out a cold water for him.

“No, thank you. I'm good. I'll just take a quick shower.” With a thud his shoes land on the floor as he kicks them off. His slacks follow, then his damp briefs.

You watch him undress, amazed and attracted to his confidence and nonchalance, attracted to what lies beneath Dave's clothes, too. In another life you two would be a great match.

“Do you want me to wait for you?” You turn towards the minibar again, looking for something else. There it is, a kitkat.

“You don't have to, but thank you.” Dave smiles at you and shrugs his shirt off his shoulders. He holds out his hand now, naked in front of you and not bothered by it. Smug. Big dick energy and he can afford it.

You shake his hand, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment. “Until the next time then. Take good care, Dave.”

You smile at each other, the possibilities of being reckless crackling between you, but then he lets go of your hand and turns his back towards you, heading into the bathroom. When the water starts running behind closed doors you take his shirt from the pile of clothes and nuzzle into the fabric. It's a good smell. Masculine, of course.

Slipping a few fingers into your pants and deeper, behind the elastic of your lace underwear and still deeper, dipping them into your sopping pussy, you inhale his scent deeply, clenching to the thought of his tongue on your skin.

You treat yourself to a moment with your fingers buried in your cunt before you pull out again. You write your name on the inside of his collar, invisible ink made out of your slick, setting a scent mark, a last reward for this good boy.

When Dave enters the room again later you have disappeared, in thin air, no trace of you is left. But something churns inside of him when he gets dressed.

Later, in his car, it clicks. Pussy. It smells like pussy, right in front of him. You god forsaken menace. Of course you had to have the last word. Marking him, mocking him, making him hard again. And of course your pussy smells delicious. Sticky sweet. He groans and adjusts himself, driving home a little faster now.

The house lays in silence when he steps over the threshold. The girls are fast asleep, he checked it immediately with a peek into their rooms. Carol is asleep as well. Soft and warm and plush under the blanket, curled up on her side. Dave kicks his shoes off and steps out of his slacks and briefs. They are still damp in the front, from the precum you urged out of him. But the shirt stays on.

He slips under the blanket and pulls Carol closer, her perfect ass against his already half-hard cock. A hand gently kneads one of her breasts, the other one tugs down her pajama pants.

She's awake in no time, whimpering when he grinds against her rear and lets his dick glide between her ass cheeks.

“Therapy was good?” Her voice is so soft, always sweet for him, never harsh, rarely ever does a no come from her.

“Yeah. Missed you…” he mumbles into the crook of her neck, biting and pulling on her skin until she winces softly.

“Dave-...”

He pinches her nipples and she winces again. A waft of your pussy hits him and he breathes it in deeply.

“Color, baby.”

“What?” Carol chuckles, not yet believing that she’s about to be fucked by her always loyal, always loving and caring husband.

“You’ve heard me. Give me your color.” His cock now slides between her legs and through her folds. He’ll slick her up real good, leaking already with a quiet thrumming sting in his balls. Carol’s pussy feels as good as yours smells.

“Green,” she gasps and rocks back against him.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he growls before biting the flesh over her shoulder blade and pushing into her.

When Dave finally is satisfied, soaked in Carol and him, she rolls on her back and watches him get a warm towel for her. Whatever this therapist did with Dave, it did wonders. He should go more often.

thank you for reading! and remember, kids, comment or reblog to show me I've been a good girl and did a good job, please and thank you

find my Dave York masterlist here

find my general masterlist here

more a/n: I'd probably suck as dominatrix, shout-out to all the bad ass professionals and hobby dom(me)s out there, you are amazing and I'm literally on my knees for you

dividers: @/saradika-graphics

#dmamc2025 #dmamc 2025 #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york smut #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu #pedro pascal #my writing #fic: yes ma'am

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zzencat · 1 year ago

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Why Do I Still Feel Unsatisfied? - Timeless Reading (for anyone)

When things are content and slow, going normally as one would expect, you still feel like there’s something not quite right—something missing. Now what? Are you supposed to be happy? You have everything you need…what is there to complain about? Why is life so stale? So boring? Am I doing enough in my life? What is this stagnant energy?

Note: Social media may have an influence on these feelings.

- Remember: clear your mind. Close your eyes, take a deep breath, fill up your chest to the fullest, feel the air brush against the ridges of your nose. Breathe out. Choose the photo that you can’t take your eyes off of.

——————

Pile 1. To Speed Up or To Slow Down.

You might be in denial. You try to think that you’re okay and you’re doing well enough—you have everything you need to survive, so what’s the matter with you? What’s the hold up? Are you going out on the weekends to the same places? Maybe repeating the same old routine, with or without friends? Perhaps you’re staying home and indulging in the same habits every weekend. Why are you just lounging around in the kitchen or living room with an oversized shirt and running your hands through your hair, wondering what to do now that you have time? It’s getting boring and you need some spice to your life.

Try looking into a hobby that you had interest in during childhood. Maybe you were shunned for having a such an interest. Do you do a lot of online shopping? Have you ever wanted to start your own business or clothing line? Honestly, to me it feels like you’re financially stable or on your way there and you know you will be. But it feels passionless. Maybe you had passion in the beginning and it died out. The excitement wasn’t there anymore, or maybe you had to be in this profession because you had to. To impress parents, guardians, the people around you. I feel like this group could do well with a side hustle or multiple. You seem like well-adaptable people so you could deal with the uncertainty and unpredictability. You also seem very friendly, like a team player type of person. You do what your told, and have small moments where you count as “rebellious.” Perfectionistic. My mind keeps going back to this…maybe you want to open up your own online shop? Or clothing/beauty brand or business? You might struggle when things get too quiet at a hangout with your friends or other people, maybe feeling pressured to say something or lighten the mood. For some reason, it’s always your responsibility to do something. Who put that on you? Where did you learn that from? That you should take charge and try to do something or else it’s your fault? Why do you feel inclined to do that? These would be good questions to think about.

The Challenge For You: Pick up a hobby and perfect it. It helps to record yourself working on this hobby, mistakes and all, and post it somewhere where people can see. Closest friends, family, or complete strangers. The reaction will make your more relatable and you’ll gain a lot of support. I’m seeing a soft smile and a genuine pat (“you’re doing good! you got this!” vibe) from your friends or people online. For example, “Day 1 of playing the violin” or “Day 30 of frisbee throwing”. This group seems to be heavily reliant on validation, internal or external. You need people to be there to see when you’re doing well, and people shouldn’t see your mistakes and if they do, you’ll try to move on while beating yourself up in your head. Very perfectionistic and while this helps you in your career or professional life, you should allow yourself to make mistakes, laugh about it, and be more soft towards yourself. Perhaps you got shamed for making a bunch of mistakes when you were younger, taught that mistakes aren’t okay and that you should be perfect, but all the energy here—from my spirit team to yours—is telling you that it’s okay to not get it the first time. Humans are meant to adapt and grow. There’s no fun in getting something the first time around. It’d be beginner’s luck. It’s about the journey and what you put into it that will add tremendously to your charm. It makes you human and it makes you, you. So learn to forgive yourself and build up that confidence.

Points of Interest: xxfj vibes, but mainly isfj/infj, nurse, libra, middle person/mediator, trying to get out there more, lowkey don’t want to socialize all the time but is forced to (whatever this may mean to you, take it), needing validation from others bc your own doesn’t count, suppression, “busy is good”, inner loneliness, void in heart, helping others but not yourself, “was it always this quiet or was i just used to the noise?”, slow down, hustle culture, “this is what I should be doing” (very vague, could mean different things…but this definitely applies to people in this pile), people pleaser…messy hair, in a rush, busy, busy, busy…“Damn it- why isn’t this thing working?!”, coffee, too much coffee, “dude, are you okay?”, stress, “living life in the fast lane as they say…” (for some reason, maria by justin bieber came up- we got any beliebers in here?), social media, parents, boss, workplace, Jane(?), idk why the black mirror episode called “joan is awful”, “I’ll take what I can get”, don’t want to burden other people, fear of humiliation, standards on other people are not as high as the standard you put on yourself, anxious, always moving, check, check, check…restless energy, “it’s on me”, responsibility…

———————————————-

Pile 2. “I guess…” is not an answer.

This pile floats between pile 1 and 3 but leaning towards 1. The people in this group could share many of the same doubts and feelings as pile 1. But I will say, if you felt drawn to all or any of the other two alongside this one, I suggest you reading those as well. This gives me very infp vibes. Shy but likes to/would like to dress up a bit more, follow the fashion culture, find your own style. There’s a bit of a childlike nature to this group and I’m not sure what it is. Like maybe a financial insecurity or you want to date someone really badly. Like a person who watches a bunch of kdrama’s but never goes outside OR you do go outside and you don’t have the balls to ask someone out. I’m getting couch potato but a cute one. Curled up in a blanket and binge watching in bed. Watching other people chase their dreams and goals while you’re still wondering what yours are. Do you binge-watch a lot of shows or movies? I feel confused reading this pile, as if I’m supposed to be looking for something but I’m either not mature enough or I just don’t know what to look for. Probably struggles with parasocial-ness. Very online, maybe chronically online, if I might add. Maybe you’ve never gone out on a date before. If you did, you’d be super awkward, say something dumb on accident, giggle too much, or just full on shy, laughing a lot, red faced. Do you struggle with a lot of anxiety? A lot of daydreaming or fantasizing. If your friends ask you to go out with them, you either say yes immediately or you make up an excuse of why you can’t go just to lounge at home. But I feel frustrated. I don’t know where to look. Maybe you prefer to rock out with your headphones, blast music, and have a dance party in your room by yourself. Timid. Can be sassy at times. Probably dramatic. Do you still live with your parents, by any chance? I’m getting middle class to lower upper class, maybe even upper (but a lot less so.) Kind of spoiled energy. Maybe people have done things for you your whole life or have chosen the path for you to be on already. Maybe they’ve made decisions for you your whole life.

The Challenge For You: Go outside more and be more observant of people, especially if you think you struggle with social ineptness. If you’re timid, maybe your voice is too quiet that it draws people’s attention or you’re so anxious that you do something loud or reckless that captures attention. Do you have an interest in something that you could capitalize on? Like something in the arts? Maybe you can sell art online, draw for people, get yourself out there without engaging in fights online—it’s not worth your time, I promise. Put your phone down and read a book. Find something you like outside your phone or on any of your devices. This group seems constantly overstimulated with devices that you can never just sit and stare at the wall for a minute. It would help for you to think about the future for a little bit, even if it overwhelms you. If you’re in high school, get a part time job or do research on something you like. Practice gratitude and acknowledge the things that you have that others don’t. There’s a lot of immaturity, emotionally as well, in this pile, like you haven’t figured yourself out yet and you’re just waiting for things to fall into place. If I had to sum this up, it would be to pursue something that you can’t let go of and don’t let other people decide for you. Be more assertive and work on leadership skills. Work on time management as well. Laziness could also be an issue. Find yourself.

Points of Interest: infp vibes, dreamy, pursed lips, fidgeting, immaturity, “maybe if I dress normal, I’ll look normal”, dresses in all black, oversized shirts, beanies(?), don’t bring attention to me, small handwriting or circular letters, pink lead pencil, makes hearts on your “i’s”, secret romantic, easily jumps to conclusions, expectations, “daddy bought it for me”, be more thankful, ambition where?, do something you love and make a job out of it, oversleeping, “i don’t wanna think about it”, impulsivity, anxiousness, effort, purpose, going with the flow…

———————————��———-

Pile 3. “Let’s get this over with.”

Feeling very much a laaaarge lack of energy here. Very drained pile—emotionally, physically, mentally, some or all. Sometimes you feel it’s tiring to keep smiling, like you have to force it to seem okay. You’re in need for some warmth in your life, maybe some hugs or people telling you they’ll be there for you (and mean it), but you may or may not express this need to people; I’m mostly feeling that you keep to yourself a lot, not wanting to burden people. Very introverted energy, like “I’m just here” energy. If you go out, you don’t talk a lot or you need a drink/substance to help you loosen up and talk/act. Are you always tired? Staying up late and staring at a screen, or struggling with insomnia? Or it’s the opposite and you sleep too much—the whole day. Lethargic energy. There’s not much to say about this pile because I think you already know what to do, you just struggle. This could be a health issue or concern that you’re not taking seriously. Are you taking vitamins? I’m getting a zombie or very sedated state. Skin losing color and dark eye bags or under eye circles. Could struggle with depression. You don’t want to be forgotten but you want to be alone. You’re okay with solitude. Maybe you struggle with motivation in general, or motivation to take care of yourself, again, health is coming up—other people could be concerned about you and they tell you or they don’t. I would take a closer look regarding your friend group and maybe reconsider who you’re letting in your world. They could be impacting you for worse. You could be good at photography or have an interest in it. Half-assing most projects or assignments. You probably answer texts late, never answer, or give really short responses. I’m getting the sense that you really just want to exist without judgment or being perceived. Like living like a ghost and move through life seamlessly. You could have a knack for pc games or computer science. Either way, take a shower. You might feel cold often or experience coldness easier than your friends.

The Challenge For You: Join clubs where you know no one. Go alone and make it a secret space for yourself and go for at least 8 months. You’ll find that it can be therapeutic. Yoga classes with old ass ladies can help since they’re just focused on stretching. Find some friends that are ambitious but unmovable, like good leaders. They could influence you to take better care of yourself. Next, find friends that actually care about you and your health, not the “do whatever you want; it’s your life” type of friends. You should visit a sauna some time or go on vacation to a warm-hot country. You could even move there and you would be even slightly happier than now. I would encourage you to seek therapy—with a GOOD therapist. Either you haven’t had the interest or time or you haven’t had a good experience with therapy at all—do not give up. Maybe a counselor at school works. If not, move onto the next option. Confide in better friends, friends that can physically help you get up and move out of your slump, not ones that encourage/enable the bad habits. It’s time to turn your life around pile 3—I seriously think that I don’t need to be telling you these things cuz you already know. You’re definitely not dumb- you just lack motivation. Talk to someone about it or find friends that force you to change your life for the better, the ones that drag you out to go to the park with them. Get out of your comfort zone and start moving. Get that blood moving around your body—someone needs to force you to run, but after a shake rich in protein.

Points of Interest: headphones (maybe AirPod max), cozying up in the corner where people can’t see you, smoking, grey skies, crows, photography, good camera, still camera, cold hands, bitten nails, blue fingers, shrugs, poor blood circulation, pale skin, eating issues (eating too little or too much), needing dopamine and finding easy ways to get it, “i don’t care”, still lack of motivation, sunshine, grumpiness, unchanged sheets, old white tank top (for some reason), your room could use some cleaning, exercise…

—————————-

That is all!! I hope you have enjoyed. Feedback is heavily appreciated and I would love to see what pile you chose in your reblogs! As a new reader, I’d like to get as accurate as possible when it comes to picking up energy and doing these readings for you. Remember to take what resonates, leave what doesn’t! Let me know what was accurate for you :) Thank you for coming to my Teddytalk today. (sorry it’s a lame joke ik jsfkdjs)

#pick a pile #pick a card #daily tarot #pac tarot #tarotblr #tarot reading #intuition #intuitive #spiritualgrowth #pick a photo

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shinonart · 8 months ago

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I'm a full time artist now.

Art has been my hobby ever since I was able to hold a pencil and in the past four years it has also been my side hustle. My art business turned 4 years in September.

I remember clearly making a conscious decision years ago that art will only ever be a hobby for me. Back then I didn't know what other things a professional artist could be other than a fine artist or a graphic designer. All I wanted to draw was animals and fantasy creatures.

It feels quite surreal to be sitting here, in a position where I am making a living drawing animals and fantasy creatures – or at least attempting to. I quit my day job and profession that kept me financially afloat for eight years. I needed to know if there was a different way to live my life.

I have no idea how things are going to go from here but I know that I am doing something that makes me happy and something that can also bring joy to others.

I can with full confidence say that none of this would have been possible without your support. Every time you have bought something from me, left a nice comment or in any shape or form let me know you enjoy my work you have helped me get to this point.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for helping me get to this point and making something that once was a distant dream possible.

I'm really looking forward to where this path leads!

#illustrator #artists on tumblr #the artist #non art post #full time artist

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scary-grace · 3 days ago

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The Yawning Grave - a Shigaraki x F!reader fic

Tomura and his friends might look like a team of paranormal investigators, but they're actually professional hoaxers -- every episode of their hit show has been faked. The episode they're filming in an abandoned town in a temperate rainforest is no different. At least at first. Rated T trending M in later chapters, found footage horror tropes, filmmaker!Tomura. Title/chapter headings based on The Yawning Grave by Lord Huron.

omens and signs

Tomura wakes up slowly, but he’d rather not be awake at all – and what he hears when the grogginess starts to fade doesn’t do much to change that impression. “I’m not pulling over again, Dabi. Take your Dramamine.”

“How am I supposed to take my Dramamine if I can’t stop hurling long enough for it to work?”

“Maybe we should pull over long enough for Dabi to take his Dramamine and then digest it,” Twice suggests. “No, that’s a bad idea. Let’s make him throw up until he’s empty and we don’t have to stop again.”

“How about we don’t do any of that,” Toga says. Her voice sounds sweet, but Tomura knows just as well as anybody what she sounds like when she’s about to cut a bitch, and it’s a little too close for comfort. “Dabi, keep your mouth closed. Spinner, don’t floor it around the curves. Jin, don’t laugh. Tomura, don’t –”

Tomura pretends he’s asleep. Toga reaches into the backseat and punches him in the arm, at which point he sits upright in a hurry. “What?”

“Tell Spinner to drive slower,” she says, smiling at him, “and tell Dabi to stop talking.”

“Stop talking,” Tomura says to Dabi. Dabi gives him both middle fingers, way, way up. “Spinner has to drive fast. We need to be there and setting up camp by nightfall.”

“Yeah. Otherwise our nighttime shaky-cam breakdowns won’t be anywhere near as scary.”

“Right.” Tomura doesn’t need to be awake for this. He can film a found-footage documentary hoax in his sleep.

Tomura used to be into debunking this stuff. Then he realized that he could make a hell of a lot more money faking it, and have a lot more fun in the bargain. Now, instead of trying to prove that reality really is as boring as it looks, Tomura and his friends have turned their professional skeptic side-hustle into a full-time business faking the stuff they used to debunk. And because Tomura’s still a skeptic at heart, he knows how to skeptic-proof his hoaxes.

First step: Pick a spot that’s no more than locally famous. Find some local legends – there are always at least a few. Case the joint, figure out what type of haunting or infestation would be the most believable, and then make it look and sound as real as possible. Sometimes that means wholesale making shit up, which is fine. Tomura and his crew have gotten called out plenty of times, but they’ve never been caught before.

“I don’t know, guys,” Twice says as Spinner takes another curve at slightly less than warp speed. “I feel weird about this one. That guy at the gas station acted like we were nuts.”

“Gas station guys always act like that.”

“Not exactly like that.” Dabi sounds like he’s speaking through clenched teeth. “He said it was a paper town. Named after that book. But I looked it up before Spinner started auditioning for fucking Formula One, and it’s been on the map since before the book was published.”

The book – ’Salem’s Lot, by Stephen King. Tomura read it, liked it, and then, when he was scanning maps looking for a place to plan the next hoax, he spotted it. A rain-drenched dot on the map, in America’s Pacific Northwest, labeled Jerusalem’s Lot. Same as the town in the book that gets overrun by vampires. “So he named the book after this place,” Tomura says, and Dabi twists around to glare at him. “Come on. Don’t tell me you’re getting spooked.”

“Twice is right. There was something weird about that guy,” Dabi says. “We spooked him, not the other way around. There’s something going on here that –”

Spinner zips around another bend in the road, and Dabi scrambles to roll the window down. “He does have a point,” Toga says, like there’s not rain and wind whipping through the car and Dabi gagging like a cat with a hairball. “There aren’t legends about this place or anything. We’ve gotten the dumb-college-kid treatment a million times –”

“Which is dumb,” Spinner puts in. “We’re not in college.”

Toga ignores him, too. “But that guy looked surprised at first. Then he looked nervous. And he said something weird.”

“Play it back,” Tomura instructs. Toga digs out the camera.

Gas station guy looks like every other gas station guy they’ve encountered, but as Toga plays it back, Tomura watches the same emotions she named cross his face. Surprise, then nerves. “Salem’s Lot is a paper town.” There’s a pause. “Ain’t nothing living up there that’s human.”

“Nice work getting that line out of him,” Tomura tells Toga, who was doing the interview. “It’ll be great for the promos.”

“Nothing living up there that’s human. He could just mean animals,” Twice pipes up. “The more rural it is, the weirder everybody talks. Remember those old guys with the accents?”

Even the films Tomura’s made in rural Japan has featured old guys with accents. They’re practically a genre staple. “It’s true. People use different syntax in rural areas than in the city,” Spinner says. “Still, though. It’s –”

Dabi pulls his head back in through the window and rolls it up. “It’s easy to hear that line as meaning that there’s something inhuman in ’Salem’s Lot.”

“Which is why it’s perfect,” Tomura says. “Don’t crack up on me. Any of you. If something had happened here, there’d be legends about it. Local myths. Something other than an old guy at a gas station talking about paper towns.”

“There’s one reason why there wouldn’t be legends,” Spinner says from the front seat. “If nobody made it out alive.”

Tomura doesn’t expect that kind of shit out of his crew, and for a split second, he wonders if there’s anything to what they’re saying. Then he spots the blinking red light of one of their pocket cameras, and a mic settled down in the hood of Toga’s jacket, and swears. “You all think you’re fucking hilarious, don’t you?”

“You should have seen your face,” Twice wheezes. “We got you so good –”

“How much of it did you just make up?” Tomura snaps. “Did you bribe that old guy while I was taking a leak?”

“No, he just said it,” Toga says. “All the stuff we said is true. And if it spooked you for a second, Tomura-kun, it’s definitely going to spook the audience.”

She’s right. Still, Tomura doesn’t like ending up on the wrong end of a hoax, and he’s pretty sure he knows whose idea this was. “Did you fake being carsick, too?”

“Did I fool you?” Dabi asks – and then Spinner whips around a corner too fast, and Dabi lunges for the window again. The carsickness is for real. Tomura wonders if he can convince Spinner to drive even faster.

They make it to Jerusalem’s Lot just past four o’clock, which leaves them enough daylight to poke around, record some B-roll, and get a few exterior shots in. The guy at the gas station was bullshitting them – there’s clearly a town up here. Houses, a main street, buildings, streetlights, all of it well on its way to being swallowed up by the rainforest. “How fast do you think stuff like this grows in?”

“These are all native plants,” Spinner says from where he’s crouched down, examining a nest of ferns. “This is their optimal environment. So if nobody was cutting them back, this could happen in – a few years, maybe. Most of these buildings are wood. If we came back fifteen years from now, there’d probably be nothing left.

Which means it can’t have been abandoned for very long – well within living memory. Tomura rolls his shoulders, limbering up. “Let’s find an establishing shot and get this done.”

Tomura calls the big shots, but everybody else fills in with smaller ones they think they might need in the editing process. Tomura puts up with two or three extra shots from everybody before they refocus. He should have written a script. What’s going to come out of his mouth is probably going to be pretty stupid.

“I’m Shigaraki Tomura. We’re the League of Villains. Today we’re investigating Jerusalem’s Lot, an American small town – which, according to the locals, doesn’t exist.”

They asked one local. They’ll go back with the camera on the way out and bother some people until they pick up enough footage to make it look like they’re trying to hide something instead of just trying to get away. This is where they’ll splice in Gas Station Guy with his creepy comment. “As you can see behind me, Jerusalem’s Lot is very real – or it was. Join us as we try to figure out what happened here, and if there’s anything alive in Jerusalem’s Lot after all.”

“Nice, boss,” Twice remarks. It’s a good thing it’s cold out. Tomura gets sweaty when he’s on camera, and he needs to air his armpits out. “The mic might have gotten fuzzy because of the wind, but we can dub over it in post, easy.”

“I like the lighting out here,” Toga says. “There are some holes in the canopy where sun will get through. If it’s ever sunny.”

“It’s supposed to be sunny tomorrow,” Spinner says, shivering. “It better be. I’ll freeze to death.”

Dabi rolls his eyes. “Sure you will.”

“I will. And then you guys will probably use my body to jazz up a shot, because you all suck –”

Tomura tunes them out and goes picking his way up what was probably the main street of ’Salem’s Lot. He’s visited a lot of small towns, even more ghost towns, but there’s something different about this place. Maybe it’s all the greenery. Ghost towns in other places fall to dust. It’s not usual to see one that’s actively being eaten alive – or dead – by the woods. People lived here. People either got up and left or they died here. The former, almost always. Tomura identifies a couple houses that look semi-structurally sound as potential filming spots for tomorrow, then makes his way back to the others.

Coming to Jerusalem’s Lot was the right choice, and as they set up camp and build a fire, the League’s mood is good. Unusually good, given the conditions they’re camping out in. “I think this one is going to be awesome,” Toga says, the firelight glinting off her teeth. “This place would be spooky even without the buildings. All the moss and lichen – and the fog –”

“We could do a haunting for this place,” Spinner suggests. “Ghosts and stuff. We haven’t done that in a while.”

“Yeah, the last time was that mansion in New Hampshire,” Twice says. Then he frowns. “We didn’t have to fake that one.”

No, they didn’t. They all saw things in that house, enough for them to scrap the episode and not come back. Tomura has a strict hoaxes-only rule these days. “Ghosts are easy to do in post-production, but for a town this size, we’d need to fake multiple ghosts,” Dabi says. “And if we have that many ghosts, we have to explain where they came from.”

“Maybe an epidemic?” Toga suggests. “We haven’t done disease in a while, either.”

“That would be tough to pull off, unless we invented something,” Tomura says. “They don’t have the Ebola virus up here.”

Nobody likes it when Tomura mentions the Ebola virus. He sees their expressions and decides to pay them back a bit for their bullshit earlier. “There’s always plague, though. Pneumonic and septicemic plague could both kill fast enough that they wouldn’t have had time to get help.”

“Then we should keep an eye out for skeletons tomorrow,” Spinner says. “And somebody’s gonna need to hold Twice’s hand so he doesn’t freak out and drop the camera. Again.”

“That was one time!”

“We can’t fake skeletons,” Dabi says. “We can fake creatures.”

Tomura rolls his eyes. “You know how hard it is to fake creatures. What would we even fake around here?”

“Vampires,” Twice offers. “Like that book.”

“That would be really hard to fake,” Toga remarks. “Isn’t there some kind of cryptid that’s native to this place? Something tall and furry?”

“Yeah, it’s like a –” Tomura thinks back on his notes. “Sasquatch. Or a Bigfoot.”

“We can’t use that,” Spinner says at once. “It sounds too goofy.”

“Yeah, the airport kiosks were selling it on t-shirts,” Twice agrees. “No vampires. No big furry guys. So that leaves – uh –”

“We could try crawlers,” Toga suggests, and Dabi starts to argue. “I know we’ve used them before, but – why can’t there be different subspecies? Crawlers in a temperate rainforest wouldn’t look anything like crawlers in the Andes mountains.”

It’s quiet for a second. “If you guys are going to make me wear the crawler suit again, I want overtime,” Spinner mutters, and Dabi grins across the campfire. “So what are we doing tomorrow, then – film documentary stuff in the morning, crawler stuff in the afternoon?”

“Works for me.” Tomura yawns. “I’m tired. Don’t forget to put the fire out.”

Inside his tent, Tomura sets up his personal camera to record. He’s not sure if everyone else does, too, but they’re supposed to – to pick up any weird things that happen during the night, any inexplicable sounds or shadows, whether they wake up to it or not. Usually it just catches him tossing and turning, and he deletes the footage in postproduction. Tomura unzips his sleeping bag, shuts off his camping lantern, and closes his eyes. This shoot is going to go well. There’s enough here for a solid hoax. Aside from Spinner in a crawler suit, they’re not going to have to make anything up.

Tomura sleeps solidly, straight through the night. He wakes up without an alarm, better rested than usual, and fumbles for his phone, which he’s pretty sure he left on the pillow next to him. The phone’s not there, but something else is, something small and cold and metal. When Tomura blinks sleep out of his eyes, lifts it to inspect it, he finds that it’s a heart-shaped locket, clinging to life on a frail chain.

Tomura’s friends are going to be on their bullshit for this entire shoot, it looks like. Still, the locket’s a nice touch, and if they fuck with the shot of Toga planting it on Tomura’s pillow, they can make it look like it appeared out of nowhere. Even if they’ve decided on crawlers, it won’t hurt to wave a red herring about ghosts.

But when he shows it to Toga, he gets a blank look and nothing else. “I didn’t put that there. I’ve never seen it before.”

Tomura’s about to tell her to cut the bullshit when he realizes that Dabi’s camera is on. No way is Toga dropping the story while she’s being filmed, and Tomura might as well play along. “Take a look at it. Maybe it’ll give us a clue about what happened here.”

“Hmm.” Toga lifts the locket out of Tomura’s hand and starts inspecting it between sips of coffee. “14-karat gold – not bad, but not over-the-top expensive. It’s on a box chain, which is interesting. They’re not as common as other varieties of chain, but they’re sturdy. See how tightly they’re interlocked? Something like this wouldn’t break easily. And the clasp’s still intact. The person who owned this took it off on purpose.”

She glances up at Tomura, eyes exaggeratedly wide. “What’s inside it?”

By this point, they’ve drawn Spinner and Twice over. They and Tomura hover over Toga’s shoulders as she pries the locket open. “There are photos,” she starts, and then her shoulders slump, her voice going small. “This was a kid’s. A little girl’s.”

Toga’s the best actor on the team. The rest of them need to take lessons. “How do you know?”

“On this side –” Toga holds it up, and Spinner digs up his phone to zoom in. “There’s a picture of two people. Based on their age, I’m guessing they’re her parents. And on the other side – that’s her dog.”

“Right. An adult would have photos of their spouse,” Dabi says from across the fire. “Or their kids. Parents and dog says kid. How do you know it’s a girl?”

“How many boys do you know who’d wear a heart-shaped locket?”

Dabi starts ribbing Toga for being sexist, and she argues back that he wouldn’t wear a locket if she paid him, and under cover of an argument that’s only half-staged, Tomura inspects the locket a little closer. It’s definitely a dog on one side of the locket, some goofy mutt-thing with bright eyes and floppy ears, and looking at it pulls Tomura’s vocal cords tight. He’d maybe have worn a locket as a kid, if his sister or somebody else had given him one. And he’d definitely have put a photo of his dog in it.

But Tomura’s got a couple screws loose. His family made that crystal clear. He snaps the locket shut, then cuts off Toga and Dabi’s stupid argument. “Hey. How old do you think this is?”

“Um –” Toga studies it. “Not an antique. More than ten years, less than thirty.”

“That’s within the time frame,” Spinner says. “How did it end up on your pillow?”

Tomura’s getting tired of this bit. He waits a second or three, then calls cut. “We have a lot to do today. Let’s get going.”

They have an evidence bin for stuff that shows up on shoots, but since the locket’s a joke his friends are playing, Tomura doesn’t feel bad about pocketing it. They left it for him, anyway. Tomura wonders what’s gotten into his friends. They’re a lot more into this shoot than they’ve been on other ones, but maybe that’s a good thing. If there’s one thing Tomura’s work has taught him, it’s that every good hoax needs a small piece of truth at the center of it. The expression Dabi’s camera probably caught on his face when he opened the locket is a good start.

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