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vantetaes · 5 months ago

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PARENT TEACHER CONFRENCES🫧🥂

TEACHER!NANAMI X MILF BLACK FEM READER

SUMMARY!!! hardworking single mom yn is called to meet with nanami, her sons fourth grade teacher to discuss his performance.

WARNINGS!!! aggressive tones, cursing, penetration, oral {f}, mirror sex, affirmations, sensual, praises, 6.2k

the school hallways are eerily quiet, the usual chaos of children’s laughter, teachers and coaches directing the younger kids to class, and hurried squeaky footsteps replaced by the hum of fluorescent lights overhead. you stride through the marble floored corridor, the sharp click of your black heels slicing through the silence.

your grip tightens around the structured leather of your designer handbag as you reach the door labeled with big black lettering MR. KENTO NANAMI.

you knock twice, before using your entire body weight pushing the wooden door open without waiting for an invitation.

nanami looks up from his desk, his expression unreadable behind his gold square-framed glasses. he’s put together, wearing a clean tan suit. the matching jacket lay carelessly over the back of his chair while his white button up pressed shirt sleeves rolled up just enough to hint at forearm muscle, tie loosened just a fraction. the gold chain he wore underneath barely peeking through to catch the beams of sunlight coming through the large windows.

his whole aura screams methodical, disciplined, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes when he meets your gaze. something unreadable.

“ms. l/n, i’m surprised. thank you for making the time.” he greets, standing as a courtesy. his voice is deep, smooth, but there’s an undercurrent of exhaustion beneath the professionalism.

you set your bag down on one of the two brown leather chairs before seating yourself across from him, back straight, chin tilted slightly upward. nanami watched as your blazer tightened around your frame as you fixed your posture. your sheer stockings with lace cuffing your thigh give the man a tease, revealing with the way your mini pencil skirt rose up to crease at your hips. the simple gold jewelry necklace that hung around your neck, being fixed by freshly manicured french tips.

and the one thing he could never forget about you, you smelled like homegrown vanilla and looked like you were moisturized by gods.

“i always make time when it comes to my son, mr. kento. let’s get to the point.” your tone is crisp, practiced, the same one you use when working around the most elite of clients and workers the same. although it never mattered to nanami. outside of those aura you present, he knew you’d crumble.

“it’s about yuji. he’s a bright kid. engaging , compassionate. but i’ve noticed a pattern of distraction in class. his assignments are often rushed, and while he excels in physical activities, he struggles to focus during lessons. i’m concerned he’s not reaching his full potential.” he exhales slowly, measuring his words. his hazel eyes lock onto yours for a moment, trying to gather an expression.

“so what are you saying? that my son is a problem all of a sudden?” your brows knit together, irritation beginning to bubble beneath your skin.

“not at all, in fact i love having him in my class. i’m saying he needs more structure. more consistency.” nanami doesn’t flinch, his gaze steady. he goes to grab a manila folder, with your sons name right on the front.

“you think i don’t provide that? do you know how hard i work to make sure yuji has everything he needs?” you fold your arms, nails tapping against your sleeve, leg beginning to jump. the small sound of your heel connecting with the flooring filling the uncomfortable space.

there’s a flicker of something in his expression—understanding, maybe, but not pity.

“i’m not questioning your dedication as a parent, ms. l/n. i see how much yuji adores you. but children, especially ones as energetic as him, need more than just material stability. they need presence.”

your jaw tightens. presence. as if you haven’t sacrificed enough. as if you haven’t built an empire just so yuji never has to want for anything.

“i’m present-” you say, voice quieter now, but still firm. “i show up. the amount of money i spend on this crappy little private elementary school, i should be the one signing checks.”

nanami slightly adjusts his glasses, tapping his finger along the opening of the folder. instead, his body shifts backwards in his chair, placing the cream folder in front of you. clasping his hands together, a small, tight line smile crosses his face.

“the amount of money you donate to helping your child’s future doesn’t impress me. do with that what you will. i didn’t mean for you to feel as though i was attacking you, ms. l/n. just bringing light to the situation.”

sitting forward in your seat, you lean over. your nails drum against the polished wood of his desk, slow, deliberate. his eyes can’t help but to draw down to your exposed cleavage. watching your necklace sway with your movements.

“you assume a lot, mr. kento.” your voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it now, a sharpness honed from years of speaking over men who thought they could talk over you.

“you see a distracted child and immediately think it’s a lack of structure. you see a working mother and assume it’s a lack of presence. tell me, do you make the same assumptions about fathers?”

“i don’t assume, ms. l/n. i observe. and what i’ve observed is a boy who looks over his shoulder every time he accomplishes something. searching for approval that isn’t always there.” nanami doesn’t blink, doesn’t waver. instead, he leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the desk, his expression unwaveringly calm. you could smell the mint wafting off his breath.

“that’s not fair.” heat flares in your chest, something dangerously close to guilt threading through the frustration.

“it’s not about fair.” he says evenly.

“it’s about what’s real. yuji is brilliant, but he’s restless. he’s eager, but inconsistent. i don’t doubt for a second that you love him. but love and attention aren’t the same thing. help him or you’ll run him right into the ground.”

your lips part, ready to retort, but the words catch. because a part of you knows he isn’t wrong. knows that between early-morning meetings and late-night conference calls, between international flights and back-to-back negotiations, there are missed dinners, forgotten bedtime stories, moments you can’t get back. you work so he doesn’t have to struggle. but in doing so, maybe, just maybe, you’ve made him fight for a different kind of survival.

but admitting that feels too much like surrender.

“you’re out of line. i don’t think the dean would enjoy hear about how you spoke to their cash cow.” so you straighten, tilting your chin up just enough to remind him who you are.

“maybe-” nanami exhales slowly, pushing a hand through his blond hair. his voice remains maddeningly level.

“-but if i don’t say it, who will?”

silence stretches between you, thick with something unspoken. outside, the distant sound of a basketball bouncing against pavement echoes through the hallway.

“enough of this. i have to make it home for yuji. i appreciate your concern for my son but from now on, please mind your own business.”

collecting your purse and the folder, you stand up, straightening out your outfit. nanami stands also, watching as you flip your bouncy curls behind one ear, the skirt still high and teasing. nanami watches as your tiny frame shuffles over to the door, a smile sigh leaving his lips.

you grip the door handle, pausing just long enough to steady yourself. the conversation lingers, the weight of it pressing against your spine, taking in a deep breath.

infuriating.

“ms. l/n.” his voice stops you, low and deliberate.

“what now, nanami?” you inhale slowly before turning, arching a brow.

he watches you for a moment, arms crossed, expression unreadable. then, with the same frustrating composure he’s had all evening, “-i was too hostile.”

you blink, caught off guard. “excuse me?”

“i should have approached the conversation differently. more patience, less provocation.” he exhales, adjusting his tie, more out of habit than necessity. then, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, “let-let me make it up to you. dinner.”

there’s a pause. sharp, charged.

then you laugh, a short, disbelieving sound.

“is this your way of apologizing?”

“it’s my way of offering a reset.” his lips twitch slightly at the corner, just slightly.

“would your wife be okay with you taking out a parent?”

“no wife. just me and you.”

you study him, searching for any sign of insincerity. but nanami is firm. there’s no arrogance in his offer, no expectation, just a quiet confidence that irritates you almost as much as it intrigues you.

“interesting, well. bold of you to assume i have the time. yknow, with me being an absent mother an all.” you say smoothly, tilting your chin up.

“bold of you to assume i’m not willing to wait, just like today.” he counters with a laugh without missing a beat.

the air between you shifts, charged with something neither of you acknowledge outright.

“send me the details, mr. kento. i’ll think about it.” finally, you smirk, pushing the door open.

you don’t wait for his response as you walk out, heels clicking against the tile, but you don’t need to. because for the first time tonight, you let him have the last word.

nanami: dinner. friday. 8pm. send me your preference, or i’ll choose.

you: you assume i’m free.

nanami: i assume you’ll make time.

you: bold of you.

nanami: so i’ve been told.

you: fine. pick the place.

nanami: i already have. i’ll send the details.

you: don’t disappoint me.

nanami: i wouldn’t dare.

read 6:25pm

soft jazz hums through your bedroom, blending with the quiet rustle of fabric as you smooth your dress down in the mirror. the dark red silk pulling just right at every curve of your legs and waist. here, in the warm glow of the vanity lights, with yuji bouncing on his heels beside you, you allow yourself a moment of softness.

“mom, you look so cool!” he beams up at you, eyes bright, his excitement buzzing through the air like electricity.

“you really think so, baby?” you turn to him with a warm smile, cupping his cheek gently, watching as the boys eyes lit up like a christmas tree from the affection.

“yeah! like a superhero!” he nods enthusiastically.

“you’re too sweet.” you laugh, pressing a kiss to his forehead, immediately wiping off the faint outline of your lip combo.

behind you, mrs. okoye, yujis nanny, watches with a fond smile but says little, just straightening a few things around the room as if to give you this moment.

“but why are you dressed up? where are you going again?” yuji tugs at your hand, using his other to grab his stuffed bear.

“remember the meeting i had with mr. nanami?” you crouch to his level, smoothing a hand over his messy curly hair.

“when you got mad at him?” he scrunches his nose, pulling the stuffed animal closer.

“we had a discussion. and now, we’re having dinner.” you chuckle.

“so you like him now or are you guys just gonna talk about me, mommy?”

you smirk. “we’ll see.”

the doorbell rings. yuji gasps dramatically. “he’s here!”

before you can stop him, he dashes ahead, excitement bubbling over. he bolts around the corner, dropping his toy along the way. you shake your head fondly, grabbing your clutch and the brown bear and making your way to the door. when you open it, you blink, momentarily caught off guard.

nanami stands there, looking effortlessly composed. navy blue slacks, black button up sleeves pushed up just enough to hint at the veins decorating his forearm. the gold necklace fully visible unlike earlier. but what surprises you isn’t how good he looks. it’s the massive bouquet of red roses and baby’s breath in his hand. the red and white flowers somehow glistening in the moons light.

he stares at you in awe. the way the red dress compliments the rich brown of your skin. he admired how well you layered the gold and diamond jewelry, your warm house lighting catching the gleams perfectly. he loved the way the dress held you, how he could see the outline of your already hard nipples against the silk fabric.

“good evening, ms. l/n.” his voice is smooth, steady, but there’s something almost hesitant in the way he holds out the bouquet. “these are for you.”

“you bring flowers to all your parent-teacher meetings, mr. kento?” your eyes flicker from the flowers to him.

“only when i come on too strong.” his lips twitch, just barely, scratching the back of his neck.

before you can respond, yuji tugs at your dress. “mom! look, flowers!”

“i see that, baby.” you smile, accepting them with one hand while ruffling yuji’s hair with the other. then, turning back to nanami, you arch a brow.

“you’re trying very hard to be charming.”

“is it working?”

you tilt your head, considering, before turning toward the nanny.

“mrs. okoye, put these in water for me? and uh- make sure he’s in bed by 9 at the latest. he has a test monday, his brain needs the rest.”

“but mommy!”

“no buts, that’s how i ended up in this dress in the first place.”

mrs. okoye nods, taking them with a small, knowing smile. “of course, dear.”

“mom says you’re not gonna annoy her tonight.” yuji grins up at nanami.

nanami crouches down to hear the boy more, then glances at you, amused. “is that so?”

you smirk, stepping past the threshold. “we’ll see.”

the restaurant is warm and intimate. a few candles provide low lighting casting a golden glow over dark wood and crisp linens. it’s elegant, but not in the way that feels forced or ostentatious. it’s intentional, curated. something made to make you feel something.

nanami is composed, though somehow his tie discarded somewhere between the car ride and now. he looks, relaxed. or at least, as relaxed as a man like him allows himself to be.

“you chose well, i expected something more- predictable, if im being honest.” you say bluntly, running a finger along the rim of your wine glass, the red liquid swishing.

“ah, so you expected a steakhouse.” he lifts a brow, swirling the amber liquid in his own glass.

“no but i expected something safe.” you smirk.

he exhales, the closest thing to a chuckle slipping through his lips. “i don’t play safe.”

you study him for a moment, letting the words settle between you. nanami is measured, meticulous, but never passive.

“oh? you ordered for me?” the waiter arrives, setting down your plates with quiet efficiency. you glance down, amused.

“i made an educated guess.” nanami sets his napkin in his lap.

“i assume you don’t waste time on things like scanning menus when you already know what you want.”

“you assume a lot about me, nanami.” you lean back in your chair, regarding him with interest.

he meets your gaze without hesitation. “i’ve observed things about you since i’ve started teaching yuji.”

the corner of your lips lifts slightly.

“oh yeah? and what else have you observed?” you take another sip.

he cuts into his meal with precision, not breaking eye contact with you.

“that you’re sharp. decisive. used to being in control-” a pause. he places his glass between his lips, taking a quick sip. then, casually “-and that you rarely let yourself slow down ever.”

your grip tightens just slightly around your fork, tongue picking at the inside of your cheek.

“what else?”

“you’re stubborn. too scared to let anyone in. you think too much about what matters right now and not how it’ll affect your son or his growing up-“

“oh! so now you’re a therapist?”

“ha- ms. l/n, i’m not saying this to be rude. i’m just a teacher.” he takes another sip of his drink. “but one who pays attention.” he starts eating, eyes staying on your frame.

you exhale through your nose, shaking your head. “yuji talks too much.”

“he adores you.” nanami actually smiles at that, small, barely there, but real.

“he’s a good kid.” the warmth in your chest is immediate, but you mask it with a slow sip of wine.

“he is.” nanami leans forward slightly, forearms resting on the table. “-and he wants more of you.”

your jaw tenses, and he catches it, because of course he does.

“did you ask me out to berate me? you think i don’t know that?” your voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it now. you pinch the bridge of your nose, eyebrows furrowing.

“i think you know. i think you hate that you can’t fix it as easily as everything else in your life.” nanami doesn’t waver.

the honesty of it stings. not because it’s cruel, but because it’s true.

you inhale slowly, setting your glass down. “do you always talk like this over dinner?”

he tilts his head slightly. “would you prefer small talk?”

you hold his gaze, weighing the challenge in it.

then, slowly, a smirk curves your lips. “no.”

he nods once, as if he already knew.

the conversation shifts, flows. work, travel, books that neither of you have had time to finish.

the tension doesn’t leave, but it changes, settling into something less combative, more intimate.

at some point, the plates are cleared. at some point, your wine glasses are refilled for the fifth time. at some point, you realize you’re enjoying this.

and at some point, nanami sets his glass down, watching you with that same measured gaze, and says,

“would you let yourself slow down? just for a little while?”

the question hangs between you, heavier than the air, lighter than the wine.

and for the first time in a long time, you don’t have an immediate answer. in all your tipsy, deep talk with the man, you’d actually started to enjoy the way he was looking at you. how protective and smart he was. how much he cared about a child that wasn’t even his own.

the drive to nanami’s place is smooth, the city lights blurring past as the car hums through the quiet night.

nanami’s apartment is quiet, warm in a way that surprises you. large windows take up a vast majority of his walls. pure marble countertops, redwood flooring. ambient lighting coming from his carved baseboards.

“jesus, how much does teaching actually pay?” upon entering, the much taller man wastes no time bending down, hands tracing the outline of your body as he carefully removes your expensive heels, placing them to the side and grabbing a pair of slippers from the adjacent shoe rack. carefully sliding them on you, letting you adjust, he walks you over to the bar stools.

“i’ve been teaching a long time, ms. l/n-“

“shit, maybe i should quit my empire and start. and please. call me yn.”

a record hums low in the background, something slow and rich, filling the silence between you.

he moves with his usual precision, reaching into a fully see through cabinet. pouring two glasses of whiskey without asking, handing you one with a steady hand. his fingers brush yours, just for a second, and it’s enough to make something flicker beneath your skin. you take a sip letting the heat settle in your chest.

“let’s move to the couch.” he walks from behind the island, helping you off the high bar hair and leading you by the small of your back to his sleek black couch.

“such a gentleman, who would’ve thought.” you joke, leaning back against the couch.

“you expected something else?” nanami sits beside you, not too close, but close enough.

“i expected something colder.” you tilt your head slightly, studying him. his lips pressed to the glass yet his eyes are focused on the way your dress creased at your waist.

“i’m not as rigid as you think, im sorry about earlier.” his lips quirk, just barely. finally taking a drawn out sip, he places his glass down on one of the sleek black coasters.

“no?” your gaze lingers on him over the rim of your glass.

he exhales, slow, watching you the way he always does, like he’s considering his next words carefully.

“no.”

you’re curled into the couch now, one leg tucked beneath you, nanami sitting close beside you, his hand resting on your knee, thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles against your skin. the city lights below flicker and shine through the darker space. it felt really natural in a sense.

“so, yuji? are you still in contact with his father or-“

your eyes widen as you place the rim of the glass to your lips, drinking in as much of the liquid as you could. already feeling the affects of the wine from dinner and the two glasses of aged whiskey tenfold. your head drops, your bouncy hair covering the sides of your face.

“woah, im sorry if it’s early-“ shaking your hand, you finish off the drink. placing the glass back down.

“i mean, what really is there to say? he got me pregnant, decided he didn’t want to have a wife or a son. left. pretty simple.”

nanamis eyes crease at the side a little, watching as your expression began to falter.

“i won’t bring it up again, im sorry.”

“it’s not your fault. i knew you’d get curious eventually.”

the rest of the conversation flows easily, the whiskey loosening the edges just enough. you talk about work, about travel, and nanami listens intently, his attention never wavering. at some point, the distance between you shrinks, you can feel the warmth radiating off him.

“that’s in a week?” he asks, the coldness of his ring sliding across your now exposed thigh.

“a week? i wish! that’s a day to day schedule.”

“holy shit! i’d rather double the size of my classes.”

your glass is fully empty when he reaches out, his fingers brushing a stray curl from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear.

you pause, breath catching just slightly. “what are you doing, nanami?”

his touch lingers, his thumb ghosting along your jaw. “just checking on you.”

his voice is quiet, deep, pulling you in like a slow tide. you should say something sharp, something to deflect, but you don’t. instead, you hold his gaze, letting the moment stretch, letting the tension coil tighter between you. the pad of his thumb rubs across your face gently.

“you always this bold?” you murmur, tilting your chin up just slightly.

“not usually.”

you find yourself leaning forward, falling into the man’s smell. his blonde hair beginning to loose its shape from the day, falling in front of his face. jokingly, you remove one of the fallen strands, pushing it back up into the style before. he leans forward fully, finally connecting your lips.

it’s slow at first, testing, like he’s waiting for you to pull away. when you don’t, he deepens it, his hand slipping to the nape of your neck, fingers threading around your skin as he pulls you closer. he tastes like whiskey, warm and smooth, and something unmistakably him.

your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, gripping him as he presses against you, his other hand sliding to your waist, guiding you into him. the way he moves is controlled, deliberate, like he’s savoring every second. with your back pressed to the arm of the couch, you could feel the hunger radiating off the man.

when you break apart, you’re breathless, your pulse thrumming beneath your skin.

“tell me if this is too much.” he murmurs, his lips grazing your jaw.

you shake your head, a small smirk playing at your lips. “you think i don’t know what i’m doing?”

nanami exhales a quiet chuckle, his lips brushing yours again, softer this time, slower. “you’re a headache.”

“you like that, though.” you hum, trailing your fingers up his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

his grip on your waist tightens. “i do.”

then he kisses you again, deeper, hungrier, like he’s done pretending this isn’t exactly where the night was always meant to end.

his other hand finds your waist, pulling you fully against him, his grip firm, unyielding. he kisses like he does everything else. controlled, intentional, like he’s taking his time memorizing the way you taste, the way you move against him.

you sigh against his lips, your hands moving to his shirt, fingers slipping beneath the fabric to find the warmth of his skin. his breath hitches slightly at the cold touch, and the sound sends heat pooling low in your underwear.

“you always this damn patient?” you murmur impatiently against his lips, teasing.

nanami exhales a quiet chuckle, though there’s an edge to it now, something unraveling at the seams.

“not always.”

you smirk, your nails dragging lightly down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath your touch.

“then don’t be.”

his restraint cracks.

nanami moves without hesitation, his hands gripping your thighs as he pulls you into his lap, settling you against him. the shift has you gasping softly, and he takes advantage of it, his mouth trailing along your jaw, down the column of your throat, lips and teeth and tongue leaving a slow-burning path in their wake.

you tilt your head, giving him more access, helping him out by hiking the skirt of your dress up to your hips, showing off your matching red lace panties. your fingers threading into his hair, tugging slightly. he groans against your skin, low and deep, his hands sliding beneath the fabric of your dress, fingertips teasing against bare skin.

“yn-” he breathes, voice rough with restraint, forehead resting against your collarbone. “-tell me you want this.”

you guide his face back up, meeting his gaze, dark and heavy with desire. your fingers brush along his jaw before pulling him back in, your lips barely grazing his as you whisper.

“i do.”

whatever tension was left shatters.

nanami stands effortlessly, lifting you with him as he moves through the apartment, his mouth still on yours, his hands gripping you like he has no intention of letting go.

when he reaches the bedroom, he presses you against the doorframe for just a second, just long enough to look at you—really look at you.

“last chance.” he murmurs, though his hold on you says he already knows the answer.

you smile, slow and knowing, fingers tracing down the buttons of his shirt before slipping one free.

“shut the hell up and fuck me, nanami.”

nanami doesn’t hesitate. the second the words leave your lips, his mouth crashes into yours, all slow-burning control unraveling into something deeper, something more desperate. he carries you effortlessly across the threshold of his bedroom, his grip firm but careful, like he’s savoring the way you feel against him.

the room is dimly lit, the city lights outside casting a soft glow through the windows, but you barely register anything beyond the warmth of his body, the way he moves, the way he kisses you like he’s been waiting for this—like he’s been holding himself back for too long.

he sets you down gently on the edge of the bed, the fluffy black duvet puffy up as you sit. but before he can pull away, you tighten your grip on his shirt, keeping him close.

“uh- don’t act shy now.” you murmur against his lips, fingers making quick work of the remaining buttons.

nanami exhales sharply, his hands settling on your thighs, thumbs pressing slow, deliberate circles into your skin.

“trust me, shy is the last thing i am.” he says, voice low, rough with restraint,

you smile, trailing your hands down his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath your fingertips. then, in one smooth motion, you push the shirt from his shoulders, letting it slide to the floor. disappear into the floor from the nights darkness.

your gaze sweeps over him, taking in the broad planes of muscle, tattoos littered across his skin. the faint lighting contouring his abs. your fingers trace over, your touch featherlight.

“you stare a lot.” he murmurs, amused.

you hum, tilting your head as you drag your nails lightly down his torso. “i like what i see.”

his breath stutters just slightly, and before you can tease him about it, he leans down, capturing your lips in another deep, lingering kiss. this one is different. slower, heavier, like he’s savoring every second, every sigh, every way your body reacts to him.

you let him, melting into the warmth of his touch, into the way his hands slide up your sides, tracing over fabric as if debating whether to remove it.

“nanami.” you murmur against his lips, impatient now.

he exhales a quiet chuckle, lips trailing along your jaw, down the column of your throat, pressing slow, deliberate kisses against your skin.

“hmm?”

“stop teasing.”

he pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. then, his hands move. slow, steady, as he starts to undo the zipper of your dress.

“uh uh uh, say please.” he murmurs, lips curving just slightly.

you arch a brow, amused despite the heat pooling low in your core.

“you’re pushing your luck.”

nanami smirks, fingers trailing over newly exposed skin, making you shiver.

“and yet, you haven’t stopped me.” he muses, voice dipping lower. with ease, he slips the dress from around your waist, gently pushing your body back to lay down in the warmth of the comforter.

his lips trace soft kisses down your collarbone, nipping slowly at the skin. you gasp, head falling back into the mattress, enjoying the feeling of warmth coming from the man’s breath. he proceeds down, planting kisses down to your exposed chest, tongue faintly sliding over your swollen buds.

“oh! fuck nanami, i’m gonna hurt you.” propping your body up on your elbows, he pushes you right back.

“fine, since you wanna be so impatient.”

dipping down, he picks you up, tossing carefully you so that your head rest on his massive pillows. crawling up to you, his lips pepper kisses. down your sternum, under your breast, kissing slowly down your torso, planting one first one to your belly button.

“how pretty they are, hm? just for me?” his voice raspy and hiding hunger, you let out a small sigh, fingers grasping onto the man’s blonde locs.

his head dips between your thighs, mouth pressing against your clothed cunt. a slight hum comes from his chest, letting his head fall to one side as his eyes look up at you, drunkenly.

without further hesitation, he pulls your panties to the side, tongue immediately collecting your slick that pooled. this was the most intimate you’ve been in a man since yuji was conceived. and god did it feel good.

his hands hook around your legs, holding you open in a middle split while one hand held the lingerie to the side while the other rubbed slow, agonizing circles into the swollen nub. he uses his tongue to slowly pump in and out of your throbbing hole. in the darkness of the room, all you can see is stars and made up shapes floating around in the void. tears pooling at the corners of your eyes as you feel nanami begin to slowly suck at your clit, plump lips wrapped gently around while the tip of his tongue spells out his name. his middle and ring finger pushing and pulling out of you, the sounds of wetness filling the room.

your mouth open, head thrown back into the pillows, and fingers grasping onto the man’s head for dear life, he ate you like he was starving. like a wild beast. everytime he removed his lips from sucking, using his fingers to curl up inside you, fucking your gummy walls.

“nami- oh! i’m gonna cum!” he knew it. he felt how tight you were getting around his fingers. how you were pulling him in now.

“you’re so beautiful, do it. make a mess on my fingers.”

that was enough to have you throwing your arms around the man’s neck, pulling him into a hug as the coil in your belly burned.

“shit! oh fuck.” he let you hold onto him for a few seconds before he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, watching as you frown from the lack of touch.

instead, climbs off the bed, uses his abs to wipe his hands off. he swiftly undoes his leather belt, unbuckling his slacks and tossing them somewhere else in the room. almost hopping right back onto the bed, he climbs back to your limp frame.

“you okay?” he asks, removing a few strands of hair sticking to your forehead.

“mhm.” you give him a weak thumbs up, letting your hand fall against his chest. he leans over, placing a swift kiss to your lips.

“i know you can give me another one though.”

and maybe that’s how you ended up here. bent over his sink, watching as he fucks you passionately. one hand gently around your throat, holding you up, and the other dug securely into your waist. his strokes are slow, sensual. but the way he was looking at you. his eyes got darker, body seemed to get bigger, and he was fucking you in front of his mirror.

“i knew you could take it, hm? say ‘i’m all yours’.” he watched you in the mirror as your makeup smudged and began to run down your face.

“i’m all yours, nami!” you cry out, feeling full from his length.

“mhm, good job baby. now say ‘im a great mother’.” you shake your head before he stops you, halting his movements and staring at you in the mirror. lips pressed against your ear, eye contact never stopping.

“was i asking you? say it.” you whine, trying to fuck yourself into his length, only to get met with a slap on the ass.

“say. it.”

“i’m a great mother!” he rams back into you, causing you to hunch over the counter. eyes still on the mirror as your breast press against the cold marble. he’s relentless, needy. his hand presses into your back as he fucks into you.

“yes you fucking are baby. let me give you another one.” he didn’t know what he was saying. all he knew was that seeing you, bent over his counter, eyes rolling to the back of your head, drooling. he never wanted to stop. he never was going to. he could feel the climax building, watching and feeling as you came undone under him.

“i’m gonna cum baby, oh fuck!”

it’s a short drive to his school, and before long, you’re stepping out, holding his hand as you walk him to class. yuji doesn’t mind- not yet, at least. he swings your arm between you both, talking about his favorite cartoons and how he’s going to beat his friend at some game they play during recess.

but as you reach the door to his classroom, his chatter slows, his fingers curling around yours a little tighter.

you glance down at him. “what’s up, baby?”

“you’re gonna be okay today, right?” he hesitates, then looks up at you with those big, earnest eyes.

you blink, caught off guard.

“of course. why wouldn’t i be?”

“sometimes you look tired after you drop me off.” he shifts on his feet, playing with his fingers.

your chest tightens.

you crouch down so you’re at his level, cupping his little face in both hands.

“baby, i’m always okay. especially when i get to come home to you, you hear me? you’re my favorite person in this whole world. i’m always okay when im with you.”

he nods, his tiny hands resting over yours.

“promise?” his voice small.

you lean in, kissing his forehead.

“i super promise.”

a throat clears behind you.

you already know who it is before you turn, feeling the weight of his gaze before you even meet his eyes.

nanami stands in the doorway, his usual crisp attire perfectly in place, though there’s a softness in his face when he looks at yuji and a different kind of softness when his eyes flicker to you.

“good morning, yuji.” he greets first, as always.

“morning, mr. nanami!” yuji chirps, then glances back at you.

“mommy’s happy today.”

your lips part slightly, surprised at his boldness, but nanami only nods, as if he already knew.

“good,” he says simply, then meets your gaze, something unreadable flickering behind his glasses. “i like seeing that.”

your breath catches for just a second, but before you can respond, yuji tugs on your hand.

“okay, mama, you can go now. love you!”

you exhale a quiet laugh, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

“love you more, baby.”

he runs inside without another glance, leaving you standing in the doorway with nanami, his presence steady beside you.

you glance up at him, tilting your head. “you always this charming first thing in the morning?”

“only with you.” he exhales softly, almost a laugh.

“dangerous habit, mr. kento.” your heart stumbles, but you cover it with a smirk.

nanami hums, hands in his pockets. “so i’ve been told.”

you roll your eyes, shaking your head as you take a step back.

“see you later, nami.”

“looking forward to it.” his lips twitch into a smile.

you turn, heading back down the hall, but you can still feel his gaze on you.

and for once, you don’t mind being watched.

part {2} {3}

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commodorez · 1 month ago

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Start Me Up: 30 years of Windows 95 - @commodorez and @ms-dos5

Okay, last batch of photos from our exhibit, and I wanted to highlight a few details because so much planning and preparation went into making this the ultimate Windows 95 exhibit. And now you all have to hear about it.

You'll note software boxes from both major versions of Windows 95 RTM (Release To Manufacturing, the original version from August 24, 1995): the standalone version "for PCs without Windows", and the Upgrade version "for users of Windows". We used both versions when setting up the machines you see here to show the variety of install types people performed. My grandpa's original set of install floppies was displayed in a little shadowbox, next to a CD version, and a TI 486DX2-66 microprocessor emblazoned with "Designed for Microsoft Windows 95".

The machines on display, from left to right include:

Chicago Beta 73g on a custom Pentium 1 baby AT tower

Windows 95 RTM on an AST Bravo LC 4/66d desktop

Windows 95 RTM on a (broken) Compaq LTE Elite 4/75cx laptop

Windows 95 OSR 1 on an Intertel Pentium 1 tower

Windows 95 OSR 1 on a VTEL Pentium 1 desktop

Windows 95 OSR 2 on a Toshiba Satellite T1960CT laptop

Windows 95 OSR 2 on a Toshiba Libretto 70CT subnotebook

Windows 95 OSR 2 on an IBM Thinkpad 760E laptop

Windows 95 OSR 2.5 on a custom Pentium II tower (Vega)

That's alot of machines that had to be prepared for the exhibit, so for all of them to work (minus the Compaq) was a relief. Something about the trip to NJ rendered the Compaq unstable, and it refused to boot consistently. I have no idea what happened because it failed in like 5 different steps of the process.

The SMC TigerHub TP6 nestled between the Intertel and VTEL served as the network backbone for the exhibit, allowing 6 machines to be connected over twisted pair with all the multicolored network cables. However, problems with PCMCIA drivers on the Thinkpad, and the Compaq being on the blink meant only 5 machines were networked. Vega was sporting a CanoScan FS2710 film scanner connected via SCSI, which I demonstrated like 9 times over the course of the weekend -- including to LGR!

Game controllers were attached to computers where possible, and everything with a sound card had a set of era-appropriate speakers. We even picked out a slew of mid-90s mouse pads, some of which were specifically Windows 95 themed. We had Zip disks, floppy disks, CDs full of software, and basically no extra room on the tables. Almost every machine had a different screensaver, desktop wallpaper, sound scheme, and UI theme, showing just how much was user customizable.

@ms-dos5 made a point to have a variety of versions of Microsoft Office products on the machines present, meaning we had everything from stand-alone copies of Word 95 and Excel 95, thru complete MS Office 95 packages (standard & professional), MS Office 97 (standard & professional), Publisher, Frontpage, & Encarta.

We brought a bunch of important books about 95 too:

The Windows Interface Guidelines for Software Design

Microsoft Windows 95 Resource Kit

Hardware Design Guide for Windows 95

Inside Windows 95 by Adrian King

Just off to the right, stacked on top of some boxes was an Epson LX-300+II dot matrix printer, which we used to create all of the decorative banners, and the computer description cards next to each machine. Fun fact -- those were designed to mimic the format and style of 95's printer test page! We also printed off drawings for a number of visitors, and ended up having more paper jams with the tractor feed mechanism than we had Blue Screen of Death instances.

In fact, we only had 3 BSOD's total, all weekend, one of which was expected, and another was intentional on the part of an attendee.

We also had one guy install some shovelware/garbageware on the AST, which caused all sorts of errors, that was funny!

Thanks for coming along on this ride, both @ms-dos5 and I appreciate everyone taking the time to enjoy our exhibit.

It's now safe to turn off your computer.

VCF East XX

#vcfexx #vcf east xx #vintage computer festival east xx #commodorez goes to vcfexx #windows 95 #microsoft windows 95

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years ago

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An adversarial iMessage client for Android

Adversarial interoperability is one of the most reliable ways to protect tech users from predatory corporations: that's when a technologist reverse-engineers an existing product to reconfigure or mod it (interoperability) in ways its users like, but which its manufacturer objects to (adversarial):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

"Adversarial interop" is a mouthful, so at EFF, we coined the term "competitive compatibility," or comcom, which is a lot easier to say and to spell.

Scratch any tech success and you'll find a comcom story. After all, when a company turns its screws on its users, it's good business to offer an aftermarket mod that loosens them again. HP's $10,000/gallon inkjet ink is like a bat-signal for third-party ink companies. When Mercedes announces that it's going to sell you access to your car's accelerator pedal as a subscription service, that's like an engraved invitation to clever independent mechanics who'll charge you a single fee to permanently unlock that "feature":

https://www.techdirt.com/2023/12/05/carmakers-push-forward-with-plans-to-make-basic-features-subscription-services-despite-widespread-backlash/

Comcom saved giant tech companies like Apple. Microsoft tried to kill the Mac by rolling out a truly cursèd version of MS Office for MacOS. Mac users (5% of the market) who tried to send Word, Excel or Powerpoint files to Windows users (95% of the market) were stymied: their files wouldn't open, or they'd go corrupt. Tech managers like me started throwing the graphic designer's Mac and replacing it with a Windows box with a big graphics card and Windows versions of Adobe's tools.

Comcom saved Apple's bacon. Apple reverse-engineered MS's flagship software suite and made a comcom version, iWork, whose Pages, Numbers and Keynote could flawlessly read and write MS's Word, Excel and Powerpoint files:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

It's tempting to think of iWork as benefiting Apple users, and certainly the people who installed and used it benefited from it. But Windows users also benefited from iWork. The existence of iWork meant that Windows users could seamlessly collaborate on and share files with their Mac colleagues. IWork didn't just add a new feature to the Mac ("read and write files that originated with Windows users") – it also added a feature to Windows: "collaborate with Mac users."

Every pirate wants to be an admiral. Though comcom rescued Apple from a monopolist's sneaky attempt to drive it out of business, Apple – now a three trillion dollar company – has repeatedly attacked comcom when it was applied to Apple's products. When Apple did comcom, that was progress. When someone does comcom to Apple, that's piracy.

Apple has many tools at its disposal that Microsoft lacked in the early 2000s. Radical new interpretations of existing copyright, contract, patent and trademark law allows Apple – and other tech giants – to threaten rivals who engage in comcom with both criminal and civil penalties. That's right, you can go to prison for comcom these days. No wonder Jay Freeman calls this "felony contempt of business model":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

Take iMessage, Apple's end-to-end encrypted (E2EE) instant messaging tool. Apple customers can use iMessage to send each other private messages that can't be read or altered by third parties – not cops, not crooks, not even Apple. That's important, because when private messaging systems get hacked, bad things happen:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2014_celebrity_nude_photo_leak

But Apple has steadfastly refused to offer an iMessage app for non-Apple systems. If you're an Apple customer holding a sensitive discussion with an Android user, Apple refuses to offer you a tool to maintain your privacy. Those messages are sent "in the clear," over the 38-year-old SMS protocol, which is trivial to spy on and disrupt.

Apple sacrifices its users' security and integrity in the hopes that they will put pressure on their friends to move into Apple's walled garden. As CEO Tim Cook told a reporter: if you want to have secure communications with your mother, buy her an iPhone:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/tim-cook-says-buy-mom-210347694.html

Last September, a 16-year old high school student calling himself JJTech published a technical teardown of iMessage, showing how any device could send and receive encrypted messages with iMessage users, even without an Apple ID:

https://jjtech.dev/reverse-engineering/imessage-explained/

JJTech even published code to do this, in an open source library called Pypush:

https://github.com/JJTech0130/pypush

In the weeks since, Beeper has been working to productize JJTech's code, and this week, they announced Beeper Mini, an Android-based iMessage client that is end-to-end encrypted:

https://beeper.notion.site/How-Beeper-Mini-Works-966cb11019f8444f90baa314d2f43a54

Beeper is known for a multiprotocol chat client built on Matrix, allowing you to manage several kinds of chat from a single app. These multiprotocol chats have been around forever. Indeed, iMessage started out as one – when it was called "iChat," it supported Google Talk and Jabber, another multiprotocol tool. Other tools like Pidgin have kept the flame alive for decades, and have millions of devoted users:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/07/tower-babel-how-public-interest-internet-trying-save-messaging-and-banish-big

But iMessage support has remained elusive. Last month, Nothing launched Sunchoice, a disastrous attempt to bring iMessage to Android, which used Macs in a data-center to intercept and forward messages to Android users, breaking E2EE and introducing massive surveillance risks:

https://www.theverge.com/2023/11/21/23970740/sunbird-imessage-app-shut-down-privacy-nothing-chats-phone-2

Beeper Mini does not have these defects. The system encrypts and decrypts messages on the Android device itself, and directly communicates with Apple's servers. It gathers some telemetry for debugging, and this can be turned off in preferences. It sends a single SMS to Apple's servers during setup, which changes your device's bubble from green to blue, so that Apple users now correctly see your device as a secure endpoint for iMessage communications.

Beeper Mini is now available in Google Play:

https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.beeper.ima&hl=en_US

Now, this is a high-stakes business. Apple has a long history of threatening companies like Beeper over conduct like this. And Google has a long history deferring to those threats – as it did with OG App, a superior third-party Instagram app that it summarily yanked after Meta complained:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/05/battery-vampire/#drained

But while iMessage for Android is good for Android users, it's also very good for Apple customers, who can now get the privacy and security guarantees of iMessage for all their contacts, not just the ones who bought the same kind of phone as they did. The stakes for communications breaches have never been higher, and antitrust scrutiny on Big Tech companies has never been so intense.

Apple recently announced that it would add RCS support to iOS devices (RCS is a secure successor to SMS):

https://9to5mac.com/2023/11/16/apple-rcs-coming-to-iphone/

Early word from developers suggests that this support will have all kinds of boobytraps. That's par for the course with Apple, who love to announce splashy reversals of their worst policies – like their opposition to right to repair – while finding sneaky ways to go on abusing its customers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/22/vin-locking/#thought-differently

The ball is in Apple's court, and, to a lesser extent, in Google's. As part of the mobile duopoly, Google has joined with Apple in facilitating the removal of comcom tools from its app store. But Google has also spent millions on an ad campaign shaming Apple for exposing its users to privacy risks when talking to Android users:

https://www.theverge.com/2023/9/21/23883609/google-rcs-message-apple-iphone-ipager-ad

While we all wait for the other shoe to drop, Android users can get set up on Beeper Mini, and technologists can kick the tires on its code libraries and privacy guarantees.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/07/blue-bubbles-for-all/#never-underestimate-the-determination-of-a-kid-who-is-time-rich-and-cash-poor

#pluralistic #multiprotocol #interoperability #adversarial interop #beeper #reverse engineering #blue bubbles #green bubbles #e2ee #end to end encrypted #messaging #jjtech #pypushbeeper mini #matrix #competitive compatibility #comcom

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nats-firefly · 2 years ago

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obey

ceo!wanda maximoff x assistant!reader

summary: your girlfriend corrects you when you just couldn't help yourself

warnings: mommy kink, pillow humping, wanda calls r pet, heavy use of petnames, orgasm denial, wands slaps r once, dacryphilia, cum strap, wanda is mean but also really soft, breeding kink

🚩 warnings are clearly stated please do not report/flag :) 🚩

words: 4.2k | feedback is always welcome | masterlist

gif source | divider source

“Bye, Celeste,” You said with a smile as the older assistant picked up her coat to leave the office, attention turning back to your screen as you typed away on your keyboard.

“Bye, Y/N, have a good weekend,” She said as she walked through the door towards the elevator. Your eyes focused on the small clock at the corner of your screen. You clicked random places on the screen, having to pretend to be doing something just a little while longer before you could finally go into your girlfriend’s office.

You and Wanda had been dating for about two years now. No one in the office knew about it except the head of the HR department who Wanda swore to secrecy. You didn’t want everybody in the office to view you just as Wanda’s little toy, which you very much were, but you were also excellent at your job. Handling the CEO’s personal and professional commitments was no easy task.

As you heard the doors of the elevator close, you sprung off your seat, gathering your personal items into your bag before quickly sliding your underwear off. For the last few work hours all you could think about was the strap your girlfriend left the house packing and everything you wanted to do with it.

You knocked on her door before walking into her office and dropping your bag at one of the plush chairs by the door of the large room. You took a second to appreciate the view behind your girlfriend’s desk. You were in the tallest building around and the view from the floor to ceiling windows gave you a great view of the bustling city under you.

“Good evening, Ms Maximoff,” You said, walking around her desk and swiveling her chair to face you. You cupped her face with your hand before leaning down to kiss her beautiful soft lips. You felt her hum into the kiss, enjoying finally having you to herself.

“Good evening, sweetheart,” She said, pulling you onto her lap. You easily straddled her, your face settling into the crook of her neck like it did every night. “I just have a few more things to wrap up, shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

You grunted softly into the skin of her neck, earning yourself a soft hair tug from Wanda so she could see your face. “Be a good girl.”

“Yes, Mommy,” You whispered, looking down at her lips. She granted you another kiss before you went back to laying your head on her shoulder. You closed your eyes, enjoying the comfort of your girlfriend’s arms in her large office chair. You felt her hand running up and down your back when she wasn’t typing. You didn’t like when you had to wait for her attention like this, but she always made your waiting so comfortable.

You tried to be patient. Tried not to let all the thoughts of Wanda fucking you into the mattress from last night drift into your mind. But they did. And the feeling of her large strap, the one you knew was the one with the cum reservoir solely from its size, made not thinking about it very hard. And when the hour Wanda promised was up, you started to get desperate.

“Wan-” You started to whine but were quickly interrupted.

“Work is over, sweetheart, you know better than that,” She warned between typing noises.

“Mommy,” You whined, starting to lightly kiss up to Wanda’s earlobe. “Can we go home now?”

“Not yet baby,” She continued typing, not even sparing a second to look at you. You knew the work she had to do, and couldn’t figure out what she was doing for the life of you.

You knew better than to argue with her, instead deciding to take things into your own hands. You started leaving soft kisses on her neck, thinking about how much you wanted to litter her neck with marks just like she so often does to you. As your lips started nibbling on her earlobe, your hips started subtly moving against her leg.

Wanda smirked, knowing exactly what you were doing. The fabric of her pants against your bare cunt lit a fire in your lower abdomen, your breath becoming labored as you continued your movements. Since walking into your girlfriend’s office you could feel how wet you were, now that you were finally doing something about it, you couldn’t get enough.

“Are you enjoying yourself baby?” Wanda asked. Your hips stuttered, but ultimately continued their movements. You hid your face in the crook of her neck.

“Mhmm,” You hummed, releasing a breathy moan into her skin. Wanda’s hand slid down to your ass, looking to snap your underwear against you but she found none. She quickly grabbed your hips and slid them away from her so she could look at where you were grinding against. She could see you left a wet spot there from your arousal.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” She cursed, making your legs clench around hers. She pushed you off her lap, settling you on the ground. “Look what you left on my work pants,” Her tone was harsh and you pouted as you looked at the wet spot. “Needy pets like you can go hump a pillow while Mommy is working.”

She went back to her work without a second look. Wanda kept a large pillow for you under her large desk for times when you misbehaved like this. You pulled your pillow between your legs, feeling the rough texture of the fabric rub against you. Wanda watched you as you rocked your hips back and forth against the pillow, noticing your eyes go hazy as the feeling between your legs overwhelmed you.

Wanda went back to her work the same second, her ignorance did something unexpected to you. Every rock of your hips sent a fire through you, your thoughts drifting to how Wanda’s hands feel against your body. You pictured how her fingers felt inside you, and how much you wanted them there. Wanda shifted in her seat, the strap straining against her pants reminding you of the possibilities for the night.

“Mommy,” You whined, your hands gripping the pillow for dear life as you continued your movements. You were so close you could almost feel it. Your eyes screwed shut as you started to feel that pleasurable knot in your stomach.

“Don’t cum,” Wanda’s voice was stern. Her eyes narrowed at you as she closed the useless windows she was using to stall you on her computer. You moaned, your hips stuttering at her command. “And don’t you stop either.”

You shuddered, trying your hardest to hold off your incoming orgasm. Even with your hips going at a snail’s pace, the feeling of the pillow against your clit guided your senses. You didn’t notice Wanda finally powering off her computer.

“Mommy, I-I can’t h-hol-” You came with a moan, your body betraying you as your orgasm washed over you. Your legs squeeze against the pillow, goosebumps running down your arms at the feeling.

Wanda stood up and made her way to you in two strides, taking you by the jaw. Her grip was strong, and it made tears flood your vision. “Are you too dumb to follow directions, pet?”

You let a tear slide down your cheek, the shame of what you’d just done sinking in. She pushed your head away, turning away from you. “Stand up and get your things, we’re going home.”

You stood up on shaky legs, almost stumbling to where you left your beg. Wanda was impatiently waiting for you by her private elevator by the time you grabbed your bag. She refused to look at you as you made your way to the elevator, your heart pounding in anticipation of being in a small space with the seemingly enraged woman for such a long time as you went down the many floors to the parking lot.

In reality, Wanda knew exactly what she was doing. She knew what her pet could take and exactly the thoughts going through your head. She never expected you to actually hold off your orgasm, the second she saw the hazy look in your eyes, she knew you couldn’t.

The second the doors of the elevator closed, Wanda had you pinned against the wall, your bag dropped by your feet. Wanda spread your legs apart, fingers easily slipping into you. You moaned, gripping her arms that were doing most of the work to keep you upright.

“If you can’t follow directions, we’re gonna have to practice, aren’t we princess?” She growled in your ear. Her fingers started curling into you, your nails digging into her blazer as you moaned into the small space. “And don’t you dare cum this time.”

“Mommy,” You whined, it was the only word you could remember at this point. Her fingers expertly moved inside you, making your back arch off the elevator wall. Your walls clenched around her fingers as her mouth found your neck, quickly starting to suck a mark onto your skin. You moaned as her teeth grazed your skin, hips starting to buck against her hand. You could feel yourself getting closer to your release, Wanda’s fingers hitting the perfect spots inside you. “Wanda, please.”

Wanda pulled her fingers out of you, your arousal almost splashing against your face as she slapped your cheek. Your head turned at the impact as you felt tears start to form, her action only added to your arousal, you could feel it almost dripping out of you. She grabbed your jaw so you face her again, slipping the fingers that were previously inside you into your mouth.

“That’s not my name,” She said, pushing her fingers further into your mouth. She cooed as she watched another tear roll down your cheek. “Crying won’t help your case, baby, you know Mommy loves it when you cry.”

All you could do was whimper around her fingers, a strangled ‘Mommy’ left your lips. Wanda trailed her lips down your neck, roughly littering it with more deep marks. Her leg made its way between yours and just as you were starting to get something from it, the doors to the elevator dinged open to the parking lot. “Come on, pet.”

You watched as Wanda walked to the car in front of you, following closely behind her. Your mind felt so hazy, all you wanted was to have her, to please her. All the brattiness you had felt earlier had faded away. Now you just wanted to be good for Mommy.

By the time you reached the car, Wanda was already inside. You got in next to her and George, her driver, pulled off. You sat nicely, with your hands on your lap and head down, waiting for Wanda’s instruction.

“Come over here, baby,” She said, pulling you closer to her so you were practically on her lap. Her hand ran up your inner thigh, fingertips playing with the hem of your short skirt. “You know, if you’d just been a good girl the ride down in the elevator would’ve been very different.”

“Mommy,” You whined quietly, holding onto the collar of her blazer. Her thumb drew circles on your thigh absentmindedly, it left your skin tingling for more. You were afraid you’d leak onto her slacks again. “George is right there.”

“You came in my office without a second thought, I didn’t think you’d mind, baby,” She teased, kissing the corner of your jaw. When she pulled back she sighed at your prevalent pout. “He doesn’t care, pet,” She sighed, rolling her eyes then turning to the driver. “George, do you care if I teach this whore a lesson back here?”

“No, ma’am,” George said, clicking a button on the center console lifting the divider up so you and Wanda had some privacy. Your mouth was left ajar as Wanda looked back at you with a smug expression.

“Open your legs, princess,” Tears stung at your eyes at the embarrassment you felt at just how wet the interaction made you. Wanda slipped her fingers into you, You gripped the edge of the seat, trying to control yourself as much as you could as her fingers curled and hit the perfect spot inside you. “See, baby, if you were good, you could cum as many times as you want.”

You whined into Wanda, holding off as much as you could. “Mommy, please.” Your hips rut against her hand, making her slip her fingers out of you.

“Oh come on, I’ve heard you do better than that,” She cooed, nibbling on your earlobe.

“Mommy, please,” You begged, trying to slide her hand back to your center. “I need it, I need you, you make me feel so good, please Mommy.”

“Hmm, better,” Her hand went back to playing with your clit. You clenched around nothing as she shifted in her seat, reminding you of your favorite strap, safely tucked into her pants. You grabbed onto her wrist, rutting against her hand. “Maybe if you’re good and take what I give you, you’ll get a little reward when we get home. How does that sound, baby?”

“Mommy,” You whined, letting go of her wrist and burying your face into her neck. Your forehead was covered in a thin layer of sweat as you let Wanda have her way with you, destined to be good for the rest of the ride home. Her thumb continued playing with your oversensitive clit, quickly sending you closer to the edge. “I wanna cum, I need it.”

“I know what you need, baby,” She pulled her hand away as more tears escaped your eyes. “Mommy knows best.”

“B-but,” You cried, cutting yourself off before you said something that would get you in deeper trouble. You felt her nails lightly scratch down your thigh then her palm soothe back up. “O-okay, I trust you, Mommy.”

“You know I love when you cry for me,” Wanda cooed, using her other hand to smooth down your hair. “Almost as much as I love when you cum for me.”

You cried out as her fingers met your clit once again, It was almost painful at this point. You desperately needed a release, your cunt now freely leaking onto her pants. Wanda didn’t care at this point, she wanted to destroy you. You moaned breathlessly, rutting your hips against her fingers.

“Don’t cum,” Wanda said, watching to see if you would obey or defy her again. Your eyes shot open, it was taking every muscle in your body to hold off the orgasm Wanda was pushing you towards. “Be a good girl, listen to Mommy.”

“Mommy- I can’t- I can’t hold it- it’s-” You cried, genuinely trying your very best. But Wanda’s fingers moved relentlessly, the pain was quickly turning into pleasure. To your luck, the car stopped just as you were about to give up, and Wanda took her hand away. When you looked at her, she was smirking as she tasted you on her fingers.

“So sweet,” She hummed, sliding you off her lap and giving you a kiss on the cheek, trailing her lips down to the corner of your jaw. “I could eat you whole.”

Shivers went down your spine at her sultry tone, hints of her accent coming through. “Come inside, princess, let’s get your punishment over with.”

You turned to her wide eyed, but she didn’t notice, back already turned to you as she walked into the house. You thought you’d had enough already. You chased after her, following her past the kitchen and into the living room.

“Mommy,” You called sweetly, slinging your arms around her neck to pull her into you. She hummed against your lips swaying the two of you towards the back of the couch, she settled you between her legs as you continued kissing her.

“Yes, angel?” She asked when you finally pulled away. You didn’t actually have anything to say, hoping your teary doe eyes would do the trick and make her go easy on you. Her lips trailed down to your neck, sucking and biting every few pecks.

“Please, Mommy,” You moaned, scratching her scalp. She hummed against you, her lips now trailing your collarbones.

“Strip,” She commanded, pulling back and leaning against the couch. You stayed frozen in place, not knowing if she was letting you off the hook or not. “Don’t make me tell you twice.”

You stepped away from her, slowly reaching for the zipper at the back of your dress. Wanda’s eyes stayed on yours as your dress fell onto the floor, quickly followed by your bra. Her eyes trailed down, tongue sliding along her bottom lip as she took you in. She couldn’t wait to have her hands on you again.

“Turn around,” Her voice turned sultry, her desired flooding into every one of her senses. “Let Mommy have a look.”

“M-Mommy,” You could feel her eyes on your body, your skin burning without her touch. You wrapped your arms around yourself, your prolonged exposure made you unsure of Wanda’s desire. You almost felt embarrassed, did she even want you anymore?

“Hey, none of that,” Wanda said, beckoning you back into her arms once she noticed the self-doubt creeping up your face. You walked into her open embrace, her hands immediately pulling you closer by the waist and lips connecting to your neck.

“Look at my baby,” She breathed against your neck, her lips trailing up to litter soft kisses all over your face, making you erupt in small laughs. “So beautiful, the prettiest pet in the whole wide world.”

You hid your face in the crook of her neck, her arms wrapping around you and engulfing you in a big hug. Your eyes shone up at her, still unsure. “Really?”

She leaned in, bumping your nose against hers. “You’re my gorgeous girl, I’ve only got eyes for you, angel.”

When you looked at her, you could tell she was telling the truth. You tilted your head back, connecting your lips in a soft kiss.

“I love you,” Wanda said, cupping your face and sliding her thumb over your cheekbone.

“I love you too,” You replied, letting her kiss you once again.

“Now, angel,” You could tell by her tone, this wasn’t gonna be anything good. “Mommy’s gotta finish giving you your punishment for your little act at the office.”

“No, Mommy,” You teased, letting her manhandle you to bend over the back of the couch. “You don’t have to.”

“Oh, yes I do, princess,” She punctuated her point with a slap on your ass, making you grip the pillows under you. “How else are you gonna know to follow my rules?”

“But Momm-”

“Be quiet and take it,” Another slap, hard enough to make you yelp. “Count for me, baby, can you do that?”

“Yes,” You mumbled, grunting as she delivered another onto your ass. “Three.”

She continued her actions until tears were sliding down your face and it hurt even when she slid her hands over your ass. Her rings were still on, the metal only making everything more painful. It wasn’t until you counted to forty and tears were rolling down your cheeks that she stopped.

“Look at you, honey,” She cooed, running her hands down your ass and the back of your thighs. “So wet for me, you’re dripping.”

You whined, leaning back as she ghosted her fingertips over your cunt. “Mommy, I- I’m sorry, I‘ll be good, please.”

“What was that, sweetheart?” She easily slipped two fingers into you, making you gasp into the pillow below you.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be good,” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your wall clenching around Wanda’s fingers. “Please, Mommy.”

Wanda continued curling her fingers inside you, using her other hand to silently remove her pants. You were too overwhelmed by her fingers in your cunt to notice. When Wanda removed her fingers, your whine in protest was quickly interrupted by the feeling of the tip of the thick strap pressing against your entrance.

“Is this what you want, pet?” She asked, slowly inching inside you. “Want to be stuffed full of my cock?”

“F-fuck, ye-yes Mommy,” You groaned as Wanda bottomed out inside you, your insides buzzed at the feeling. “Want you to breed me Mommy, please.”

“That’s my pretty pet,” Wanda started pumping her strap in and out of you, your back arching to give her more access. She gripped your hips, the sound of skin slapping against each other filling the room mixed with your moans. Wanda gripped your hair, pulling you up so your back was against her front. You moaned, legs starting to give out under you as you were brought closer to the edge. “Are you getting closer, baby?”

“Y-yes, Mommy,” You almost screamed as Wanda’s hand drifted down to circle your clit. “Mommy, I’m gonna- Can I cum?”

“Good girl,” Wanda kissed the side of your neck, quickly trailing up to nibble on your earlobe. Wanda pulled out completely, bringing a fresh round of tears down your face. You were so worked up and sensitive, you didn’t even know if you had it left in you to cum. Her strong arms turned you back around, and picked you up into her arms, carrying you into your shared bedroom. She let you down on your bed, holding your legs open and pressing them into your chest. “Do you wanna cum, baby?”

You looked at her, wide teary eyes begging for a release. “Please, Mommy.”

“You did so good for me,” Wanda started slowly sliding inside of you once again. “You look so pretty all spread out for me, look how pretty your pussy looks stretched around my cock.”

“Mommy,” You whined, it wouldn’t take long to send you over the edge and her words were making it embarrassingly easy. She started thrusting into you at a steady pace, your nails digging into her skin.

“I’m gonna fill you up so pretty,” She said, watching as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Please,” You moaned, trying to buck your hips up to meet her thrusts. “Please, Mommy, let me cum, please please please.”

Wanda reached down to play with your clit once more, making you scream out in pleasure. “Cum for me angel,” Wanda released the cum into you, the feeling of it sending you plunging over the edge.

“You did so good for me, baby,” Wanda encouraged, helping you ride out your orgasm as your body shook with the overdue release. “Look so pretty cumming for me.”

“All for you, Mommy,” You mumbled as Wanda rubbed your thighs up and down, slowly removing her strap. She watched as the cum leaked out of you, resisting the urge to fuck it back into you.

“Good girl,” Her praise made you feel so warm, her soft voice making you feel hazier than ever. Her lips trailed down your leg, until she leaned over you, pushing the hairs stuck to your sweat covered face back. “So good for me.”

“Mommy,” Your voice was hoarse, Wanda’s lips trailed up to yours, connecting them in a slow, soft kiss.

“Let me go get you some water and a cloth to clean you up, my love,” She said, continuing to tuck your hair behind your ear. You wrapped your arms around her body, collecting all your strength to keep her close.

“No,” You whined, feeling tears fill your eyes. “Don’t leave.”

“I’ll be right back,” She promised, lifting you so she could reposition you higher up on the bed. “You won’t even notice I’m gone, baby.”

“But,” You let her pull back but still held her close to you. “What about you?”

“We can leave that for the morning,” She said, kissing your cheek and lifting your chin so you looked at her. You held onto her, feeling guilty she didn’t get anything out of this. “You know how much I love making you feel good.”

She poked your sides, making you squirm under her. “Are you sure?”

She kissed the tip of your nose, leaning back so she could go to the bathroom to grab something to clean you up with. “We have all night and all weekend, you don’t have to worry.”

Wanda quickly moved to the bathroom, coming back moments later with a glass full of water and a damp towel. She was soft with her touches, making sure she didn’t press too hard as she cleaned up the mess she’d made of you.

“You’re so pretty,” She cooed as she tossed the cloth to the floor and leaned in to connect your lips. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“I’m the luckiest,” You answered before she settled next to you. You cuddled into her side slowly sipping the water she brought for you. You watched as she scrolled through food delivery apps looking for where to order for dinner. Your hand drifted to Wanda’s thigh, drawing light patterns onto the exposed skin.

“What do you want for dinner, baby?” She asked, turning the phone to you but you were busy pressing kisses onto her collarbones. She felt you squeeze her thigh as you sat up.

You settled yourself between her thighs and started to kiss down her body with renewed energy. Wanda smirked, readjusting so you could more easily get to where you wanted to.

“I could think of something.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader smut #wanda maximoff smut #scarlet witch x reader #bonk.au #bonk.wanda

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techalertr · 1 year ago

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nicnak20 · 3 months ago

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The patient; Charlie Mayhew:

*Dr. Mayhew doesn't expect to meet a beauty when he does his usual rounds.*

Dr. Charlie Mayhew was a beacon of warmth in the sterile, often cold, environment of City General Hospital. His dark brown hair was always neatly slicked back, framing a face that was kind and intelligent. Brown eyes, the color of rich, dark chocolate, held a gentle compassion that radiated towards everyone he encountered.

He was known throughout the hospital for his blend of unwavering professionalism and genuine care, a rare and cherished combination. Nurses whispered about his charm, patients lauded his patience, and even the most hardened surgeons respected his sharp mind. Dr. Mayhew was, in every sense, a good man and an excellent physician, completely devoted to his calling.

One Tuesday morning, as he conducted his routine rounds, chart in hand, a new name caught his attention: ‘Yn’. The patient was in room 312, admitted overnight with injuries from a domestic accident. His heart sank slightly at the term ‘domestic accident’; he’d seen too much pain and heartbreak associated with those words. He prepared himself for the usual grim reality, a practiced mask of professional empathy settling onto his features.

He knocked softly on the door of room 312 and entered, his usual cheerful greeting on his lips. But the words caught in his throat. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air and bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. And there, in the centre of it all, was Yn.

Even amidst the bandages that wrapped her left arm and the delicate cuts visible on her cheek and forehead, her beauty was undeniable. Her eyes, wide and luminous, were the first thing he noticed. They were a vibrant, captivating shade of hazel, flecked with gold, and they held a surprising warmth despite the circumstances. Her lips, though slightly swollen, curved into a soft, hesitant smile as she met his gaze. He felt an almost physical jolt, an unexpected, unfamiliar sensation that sent a ripple of warmth through him.

“Good morning, Ms. Yn,” he managed, his voice betraying a slight huskiness that he quickly tried to smooth out. “I’m Dr. Mayhew. I’m here to check on you.”

“Good morning, Doctor,” she replied, her voice soft and melodious, like the chime of distant bells. “Please, call me Yn.”

He approached her bedside, his professional demeanour reasserting itself, yet the initial impact of her presence lingered. He gently reviewed her chart, noting the details: glass bottle explosion during a kitchen mishap, lacerations, thankfully no deep tissue damage.

“I understand you had a bit of an accident in the kitchen,” he said, his tone laced with concern. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“A bit sore,” she admitted, her smile faltering slightly. “But I’m alright. Thank you for asking.” Her gaze was direct, open, and it held a genuine appreciation for his concern that warmed him from the inside out.

As he examined her injuries, his touch was inherently gentle, his questions careful and considerate. He explained the treatment plan, the need for regular dressing changes, and the importance of keeping the wounds clean. Yn listened attentively, her intelligent eyes absorbing every word. She asked thoughtful questions, not with anxiety, but with a desire to understand and cooperate with her recovery.

He found himself lingering longer than necessary, drawn to her quiet strength and the gentle way she carried herself despite her pain. She exuded a warmth that filled the room, a serene calmness that was incredibly appealing. He learned she was a baker, her hands, now bandaged, usually kneading dough and crafting delicate pastries. They talked about her love for baking, her dreams of opening her own little café, her passion for creating things that brought joy to others.

With each passing day, Charlie found himself inexplicably drawn to Yn’s room during his rounds. Officially, he needed to monitor her healing progress, but truthfully, he craved the quiet moments he shared with her.

He’d find excuses to stay a few minutes longer, asking about her day, her dreams, anything to keep the conversation flowing. He told her about his day too, about the complexities of hospital life, the small victories and the inevitable losses. He found himself confiding in her in a way he hadn’t with anyone else in a long time.

Yn, for her part, looked forward to his visits. His presence was like a ray of sunshine in her otherwise monotonous days confined to the hospital room. She admired his unwavering kindness, his genuine concern, and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. She noticed the small details: the way he always made sure she was comfortable before starting his examination, the reassuring tone of his voice, the way he listened intently when she spoke, as if her words truly mattered to him.

She saw beyond the doctor’s coat, glimpsing the man beneath: kind, sweet, gentle, and genuinely caring. She found herself anticipating his arrival, her heart quickening a little whenever she heard his soft knock on the door. His visits became the highlight of her day, a gentle balm to her physical and emotional wounds.

Their conversations deepened, moving beyond superficial pleasantries to shared hopes and dreams. They discovered a mutual love for old movies, a similar taste in music, and a shared appreciation for quiet evenings with a good book. Charlie found himself laughing more easily, feeling lighter and more alive in Yn’s presence. He realised, with a startling clarity, that he was falling in love. He, Dr. Charlie Mayhew, the embodiment of professional detachment, was completely captivated by his patient, Yn.

The realization was both exhilarating and terrifying. She was his patient. Boundaries existed for a reason, lines that shouldn't be crossed. Yet, the pull he felt towards her was undeniable, a force as powerful as a tidal wave. He wrestled with his conscience, the professional ethics ingrained in him battling with the burgeoning feelings in his heart.

From Yn’s perspective, the feelings were mutual, albeit unspoken. She recognized the unspoken language in his eyes, the way his hand lingered a moment longer when he checked her pulse, the warmth in his smile that seemed reserved just for her. She felt a deep connection with him, a sense of understanding and comfort she hadn’t experienced before. She knew he was a doctor, she understood the professional distance, but her heart couldn’t help but respond to his kindness and the obvious care he showed her.

As Yn’s wounds healed, the inevitable day of her discharge approached. A bittersweet feeling settled over them both. For Charlie, the thought of Yn leaving the hospital, out of his daily orbit, was like a looming shadow. He knew he couldn't let her go without knowing if there was a chance for something more, something beyond the patient-doctor relationship.

On her last day, as he completed her final check-up, the atmosphere in the room was thick with unspoken words. Yn was dressed in her own clothes, looking radiant, the bandages gone, revealing the delicate healing of her injuries. She looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and something he dared to hope was longing.

“Thank you, Dr. Mayhew,” she said softly, her voice slightly trembling. “For everything. You’ve been… incredibly kind.”

He met her gaze, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he had to say something, to break the professional barrier, even if it risked everything.

“Yn,” he began, his voice low and sincere. “Please, call me Charlie. And… and thank you, for being you. For being so… bright, even in here.” He gestured vaguely around the room. “You’ve made my rounds… significantly more enjoyable.” He managed a nervous chuckle.

She smiled, a genuine, radiant smile that lit up her entire face. “You’ve made my stay here… bearable, Charlie. More than bearable, actually.”

A silence fell between them, charged with unspoken emotion. He took a deep breath, gathering his courage.

“Yn,” he said again, his voice firmer this time. “I know… this is probably inappropriate, and I’m your doctor, and there are protocols, and… and everything. But… I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you. And I… I would really like to get to know you better. Outside of… all of this.” He gestured to the hospital room.

Her eyes widened slightly, then softened with understanding. A blush crept up her cheeks, adding to her radiant glow. “I… I would like that very much, Charlie.”

Relief washed over him, so profound it made him dizzy. He hadn’t realized how much he had been holding his breath. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out instinctively, stopping just short of touching hers.

“How about,” he suggested, his voice laced with hope, “after you’re settled back home, and everything… perhaps we could… have coffee? Or dinner? Whenever you’re feeling up to it.”

“I would love that,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, but filled with warmth and sincerity. “Really, I would.”

He smiled, a genuine, heart-felt smile that reached his eyes and crinkled the corners. “Then, maybe… if it’s okay… can I have your number? So we can… arrange it?”

She readily gave him her number, her fingers brushing his as they exchanged phones, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of electricity through him.

As Yn left the hospital that day, she carried more than just discharge instructions. She carried the promise of a new beginning, the thrill of a budding romance, and the warmth of a connection that had blossomed in the most unexpected of places.

Charlie watched her go, a hopeful smile playing on his lips. He knew the path ahead wouldn't be without its challenges. They would have to navigate the transition from doctor-patient to something more, and there would be questions and perhaps raised eyebrows from colleagues. But looking at her receding figure, her graceful walk filled with newfound freedom, he knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his soul, that it would all be worth it.

He had found her, in the sterile halls of the hospital, a beacon of light and warmth. And he was determined to hold onto that light, to nurture it, to let their connection blossom into something beautiful and enduring. For in Yn, he had found not just a patient, but a love that had unexpectedly captured him, a love that felt true and destined, a love that promised to illuminate his life in ways he never thought possible.

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chimivx · 2 months ago

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‘after all the boys and girls that we’ve been through, could you give it all up if i promise to you, that i’ll never talk again, and i’ll never love again’

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➳ college!teez x fem!reader (oc) - nice for what cast ➳ 6.2 (part four of ???) ➳ 18+, sexual content, drugs/alcohol, college life, all the drama, angst, mentions of anxiety/depression… IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW! *pay attention to time stamps <3 *

thursday ~ september 18th ~ 1:05 am

You dropped your phone to your chest. Staring up at the dark ceiling, watching the lights and shadows flicker through the curtains pulled over the windows on the living room wall, a body scooted closer to you and pushed their nose into your shoulder. Turning your chin, you met his curious brown eyes and breathed through a laugh, dancing your gaze back up toward the ceiling.

“It was your brother,” you whispered.

Theo hummed. “Finally, right?” He kept his voice quiet.

Keeho slept on the couch behind the two of you. He’d been half passed out there by the time you returned back to them after crying to Wooyoung in the car, begging him to wait there for you, that you’d be done so fast, he can bring you back. Your stomach had been squeezed, pushed, pulled, flipped upside down and thrown to the ground.

You didn’t want to walk inside ITZ, not after that kind of phone call.

You didn’t want to face the girls. Tori made it known more than once that she’s got this. The dinner, she can handle it, she wants to handle it, it was her playground, her dream to have utmost control over an event she’d be known for. For years to come.

Song Tori.

Tori Song.

ITZ Legend.

Remembered for her excellence, her promptness, her style, her poise, her attention and love and care for her sisters. Her love for parties and nights out never once cramped her exquisitely high GPA, her work life balance, one to envy. A networking queen, Ms. Song over the years set her sorority, her sisters up for success and endless notoriety.

You could see it now.

And as much as it made you smile, her own happiness would be yours as well, you could vomit.

Lurching forward, veins buzzing with an electricity you’ve felt only a few times in your life, you slid a hand over your chest and reached for your shoulder. Moving it back and forth, soothing the pounding trapped between your lungs, Theo scooched himself closer to you, sitting up beside you. Placing a hand between your shoulder blades he only applied a pressure, his fingers scrunching before they stretched out again. He followed your breaths, taking deeper ones to encourage you to do the same.

He asked, after a few minutes, “Want me to wake him?”

Your eyes darted to the short hallway Wooyoung’s room lived at the end of. “No,” you pushed from your lips.

Wooyoung would come out here and talk you through it. He’d ask questions, he’d pick it apart, he’d get you to unravel so he could wind you back up. Countless times he’d cause the weight to grow, and grow, and grow- until it went away. Necessary. Something you appreciated.

This time you knew what you were feeling. You knew where it lived in your body. You knew what you needed to do to get it to stop. Balls were necessary, and right now you had none. They were impossible to grow while your insides were made of vibrating goo and your ass couldn’t feel the floor anymore.

Lectures weren’t needed.

You wanted to be buried in the arms of someone else. Someone who didn’t need you to ramble about everything racing through your head to understand what was happening. Someone who wouldn’t ask questions until the feeling passed, until you could feel your fingers again.

“What did Soul say?” Theo asked, and you whipped your head to look at him, your eyes wide. He scrunched up his fingers over your back, then took his time stretching them back out. He smiled. “What’d he want? Guess I’m not surprised he’s up, are they having a party?”

“I- I don’t… I dunno,” you breathed, “He said he wanted to talk, he didn’t say anything about a party.”

Theo bobbed his head. “Okay,” he whispered. “I’m glad he said something,” he met your eyes at the same time the smallest frown tugged at his lips, “He was happier when he was your friend.”

“We drove him crazy, Tae.”

He shook his head. “He loved you guys. Don’t listen to his little dipshit, asshole friends he thinks are good for him. You were good for him, you all were.” Glancing down to his lap, he leaned against you. “I’m worried about what happens when this year is over. When you guys leave, when I move… He’ll be here,” he looked at you with some sort of fear in his eyes, “With them.” Taking your hand from your chest, you slid it over his knee. “When you guys had him, it was… It was the first time I felt hope for him. Like, he would be okay, he could make something of himself.”

“He still can,” you whispered.

He tried to smile. Taking your hand in his, he squeezed it and took a deep breath. “You helped him a lot.” Lacing your fingers together, he nudged you with his shoulder. “I know this president shit is tough. I know you’re having a hard time with it. But, you are a leader, Ror.”

The buzzing in your veins had since ceased. He’d successfully distracted you enough to loop back around and pull you back into conversation about it.

Through a breath, you whispered, “I don’t wanna do it.”

Theo drew his thumb over your palm. “Hermione Granger,” he whispered.

You both froze, then broke into giggles.

“What?” your whisper was harsh, stuck in your laugh.

Theo, who rocked forward, tipped his head back and said it again. “Hermione Granger,” he raised his voice slightly, “Padme Amidala, Black Widow-” “What are you-”

“Women that are leaders, that the story isn’t about, but without them, the story wouldn’t exist.”

“Black Widow got her own movie,” you huffed, and he narrowed his eyes.

“After how many years,” he countered.

Keeho stirred on the couch. “You are so gay!”

Scoffing, Theo leapt to his feet. “This is bi erasure, Keeho,” he nearly shouted, taking two steps toward the couch before leaping on top of his boyfriend. Giggles erupted from the two, your best friend throwing his arms around Theo, pulling him in. Through the laughter and short spouts of bickering, Keeho quieted him with a kiss.

Your cue to leave.

Quietly, you grabbed the pillow from the floor and tiptoed down the hall, pushing Wooyoung's door open. He stirred in his bed, the room too dark you couldn’t even see if his eyes opened. Turning the handle to close the door in silence, you padded around to the side he wasn’t strewn across and slipped under the covers, tossing the pillow against the headboard.

“What were they yelling about?” he mumbled, sliding his legs together to free up some space.

Releasing a breath, you kept some distance between you. “Something about bi erasure.”

Wooyoung rolled over to face you, his eyes closed and his hair rumpled. “Sounds like Kee.”

“Was Tae, actually,” you whispered, and he smirked.

“The man fights back,” he muttered.

Silence fell. You prayed to anything that the two in the living room would remember they were in an apartment, with very thin walls. Though if you or Wooyoung said anything they’d have plenty about the two of you to argue back with.

Not anymore.

Blinking, eyes adjusting to the darkness of his bedroom, you made out the curve of his nose. His natural, messy waves brushing over his long lashes splayed over his cheekbones. His lips that pursed as he slept. His cheek squished into his pillow.

Two weeks ago you’d have been able to reach over and run your fingers through his hair, over his cheek, dancing finger down his nose, pressing a kiss to the tip. Depending on his mood, he’d nip at your finger, catching it between his teeth before he wrapped his lips around it, spitting it free to shove his tongue into your cheek. He’d roll on top of you, slide his hands up your arms and trap your wrists in his hold above your head. Taking his time he’d trail his lips down your neck, your chest, over every curve until his waves and wicked smile made their home between your thighs…

“Aurora,” he whispered.

Opening your eyes, you sighed. The space you put between you didn’t exist, you had moved closer, against him.

“Off limits,” he whispered.

Letting out the tiniest groan, you flipped onto your back and clasped your hands over your belly. “I can’t sleep.”

You could hear the smile pulling at his lips. “Do it yourself.”

Clicking your tongue, you shot him a harsh, “Pervert,” and tried to swallow your grin as he snickered.

He rolled over to his other side, back facing you, and said, “I’m not kidding though. It’ll help.”

With a sigh, you made sure to grumble once more just to make him laugh again.

He was serious that night. Off limits. He’d implemented San rules, as if you were some sort of animal.

San rules.

San.

Peeking to the side, at his bare back you ached to press your lips to, you reached for your phone and swiped open to your messages. San was already pinned to the top, right beside Tori who was pinned right beside… Yunho.

The buzzing in your veins came back. The air began to thin.

Fuck it.

[you]: i’m coming tomorrow

He responded immediately, exactly on your wavelength, giving you the response you expected.

[sannie]: three times. i promise.

thursday ~ september 18th ~ 11:59 pm

Spinning around in San’s arms, falling backward onto his chest clad with a t-shirt that stuck to him, one you’re shocked he could breathe in, his hands slid down your hips, his own body swaying with you as you moved to the music. In the middle of the crowd in ATZ’s dark living room you were both several drinks deep, ignoring looks and dodging advances, which came as a surprise to most of San’s suitors, but not to San.

Grinding against your ass, he pressed you into him and latched his lips to your neck after pulling your hair back, letting his warm breath fan over your skin before he pressed his open mouth on you.

When San had you, he only had you.

He’d usually be on the hunt for seconds at this point without even devouring his first quite yet. Each night he had them stacked, had them waiting, and with how many dirty looks you were on the receiving end of tonight, it’s very clear he’d been booked and busy, but he’s blowing them all off for you.

Half hard, gyrating into you, both of his hands, his fingers digging into the curve of your hip covered by a minidress, he almost missed the junior that came up behind him, shouting for his attention. It took her grabbing him by the shoulder and yanking him backward for him to break his gaze off of you. Turning toward her, bringing you with him, the two of you stumbling as you moved, the junior took one look at you and her face went sour.

“Course,” she huffed, rolling her eyes.

Dropping your hands to your side, resting them over his, you smiled at her. She was pretty. Short dark hair curved beneath her chin, pearl earrings accented her ears, a dainty necklace hung around her neck, she wore… a pink sweater and a denim skirt.

Your stomach flipped. You struggled to stand up straight, trying to push off of San to get a better look at her.

“Sorry, baby,” San cooed, giving her a pursed lip smile before she stormed off, pushing through bodies that shouted after her. He swung you around, twisted you around, and slid his arm back around your waist, letting his hands slip a little lower. Pressing his forehead to yours, he was a second away from kissing you, but the vacant look on your face made him frown. “Ror?”

The floor rocked beneath you. A sort of dread settled in your gut.

San took his hands to your cheeks and tilted your chin up. Meeting his eyes, you pressed your hands to his rock hard chest and pushed at him with as much strength as you could conjure up.

“Go be with her,” you said. The words came out slower than you thought they would.

San grabbed onto your wrists and tugged you into him, wrapping his arms around your back. “No, no,” he breathed. “You’re mine tonight, pretty girl.” Nudging your nose with his own, he beckoned you to look at him, and when you did, he smiled something soft. “Did that upset you?”

Shaking your head, lowering your eyes, you made him laugh.

He pressed a finger into your chin, bringing your eyes back to his. His brow softened, and his eyes grew a bit wider. “Use your words, babe. What’d that just do to you?”

Her image popped back into your head. A vision of perfection, and grace, and power, and betrayal, and vain. Her always styled hair, and the way she dressed, how it was exactly Yunho’s type.

Your stomach flipped again. You tightened the grip you had on San and shook your head.

“Mina,” you whispered, flickering your gaze upward, finding comfort in how his lips pouted.

He sighed. “Oh, babe.” His hands caressed your hips, then took their time sliding up your side, palming your shoulders with a gentleness before he cupped below your jaw, and he offered you a smize. “We can’t have that, can we?”

His lips were on yours with a kiss so deep it rendered you thoughtless. Tongue pushing past your lips already, you grew limp in his arms, and you allowed him to take you. San cast a spell impossible to ignore, something you didn’t believe until you experienced him this summer for yourself, finally giving in to him and his advances- on your own accord. Just once you had to see what all the fuss was about, you had to have him at least once.

And once turned into a lot. More often than you would have ever expected.

You and Wooyoung both.

You literally could not help yourselves.

Everything everyone spoke of… was the complete and honest truth.

Keeping you on his hip he snaked an arm around your shoulders and pulled you through the living room, the crowd parting for the two of you. Popping occasional kisses to your temple, your forehead, your lips if he reached over to squish your cheeks, he got you to the stairs until you were stopped halfway.

You weren’t quite sure how you moved this fast, but your journey came to an end too quickly, you needed him, and at this point you didn’t care where you were. The ache between your legs fueled a frustration within you, one San had mastered himself. He simply smiled at his president while you whined and tugged at his arm to keep moving.

Seonghwa’s eyes flickered between you both as he drug a hand through his long black hair, his own skin dewy and glowy. “Where we going?” Hongjoong leaned against the wall with a smirk, one step above Seonghwa.

San eyed them both, his gaze dropping to Hongjoong’s shirt put back together one button off. Smiling, he shot them a wink and pushed through them, pulling you along. “Is it your room tonight?”

Hongjoong laughed, Seonghwa groaned, but a smile played at his full pink lips.

You weren’t staring, but he looked really good in his tighter black pants that were real snug around his waist, his crotch, and his white tee, he wore it like San’s, tighter than ever. A silver chain hung around his neck, one you’re well acquainted with.

“Yours,” he shouted up the stairs, then shot you a smug look. “Hi, Ror,” he crooned, and Hongjoong chuckled.

San wasn’t the only siren in the house.

You peeked at Hongjoong who couldn’t take his eyes off his man either.

Nor were you the only sucker who succumbed to them.

Reaching the top of the stairs, brain turned off, all of your inhibitions handed over to San, you grabbed him by his broad, solid shoulders and pressed yourself against him, ready to plant kisses on his neck, but a voice on the first floor stole your attention.

“Hey, Hwa, can we-”

The second he made it to the bottom of the steps, the president pushed him back by the chest and gestured toward the kitchen with a nod of his head. “I need a drink, come with me, ask me after.”

Yunho.

He was here.

The fuck? Of course he’s here, this is his goddamn house.

Knees going weak, you held onto San and sucked in a breath. “Fuck,” you whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“I’m right here,” San whispered, keeping his hold on you a tight one. “Where are we going next?”

Looking up at him, shifting on your feet, barely feeling any sort of autonomy left, you tipped your chin backward and groaned.

What were you doing?

Yunho is downstairs, in the kitchen in fact, Seonghwa and Hongjoong are taking him that way, and you’re pretty sure it’s because you were up here on the second floor with San. San who watched you with a fire in his eyes, his grip on you saying the same exact thing.

You know he’d stop if you wanted him to. If you wanted to go back downstairs, he’d take you there.

But Yunho was there.

And Yunho wasn’t talking to you.

San was here.

And San was talking to you.

Glancing back and forth, from stairs, to San, without a coherent deep thought you pulled him closer and kissed him with a force that sent him stepping backward.

“There she is,” he muttered with a smirk, and slid his hands down your back, gripping just beneath your ass, lifting you onto his front.

Through fervent messy kisses and the way you moved against him, with you latched to his front he carried you up another flight of stairs to the third floor. You hadn’t been up here in over a year, since you opened up Hongjoongs door and Yeji and Wooyoung tumbled out of it.

San’s bedroom, that he now had to share with a junior, lived across the hall, at the top of the stairs. Releasing you, balancing you on your feet as he pushed the door open, noise behind another plank of wood had both of you acknowledging it. Sliding a hand around the back of your neck, guiding you into his room, he breathed through a laugh.

“Soul and Jongseob’s room,” he said quietly, and your heart sunk. Catching the look on your face, he took the hand around the back of your neck and slid it around to the front, backing you into his chest as he kicked his door shut. “Ignore the shit, Ror,” he grumbled, applying pressure with his hand, your head going way dizzier than it’d been all night. Taking his other hand around your front, he lifted your dress and slipped his fingers in your thong, strumming two fingers over your clit, huffing a laugh at how embarrassingly wet you were for him already. Nipping at your earlobe, voice gravelly, he muttered, “You owe me three orgasms.”

And with another push on your throat and twist of his fingers he nearly drew the first one out of you in seconds. A low groan from his chest, his soft, gentle lips pressed to the sensitive skin beneath your ear, under your jaw, the way he took calculated breaths, meticulously rolled himself against you- the tiny circles he swirled with his middle finger took you down in a minute. Sixty seconds.

Legs trembling, putty in his arms, heat spiked through you, ripped through your chest, your entire middle. Unable to make a sound, breath restricted, controlled at his hands, his delicious little hum of approval made you smile.

His lips brushed over the shell of your ear. “Good fucking girl,” he growled. Everything within you tensed, every sound he made added fuel to the fire. You tried to turn around, with your feet planted to the floor you tried to face him, but he wouldn’t let you. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

You wriggled around once more and his arms tightened tenfold. Trying to answer him, the words couldn’t come out, you couldn’t form any. Dizzy, brain cloudy, you couldn’t breathe, and the way he laughed at your struggle triggered more of an ache between your thighs.

His middle finger slid down, then back up, and your body shook. Waves of pleasure, an aftershock of sorts.

“So easy,” he muttered with another slide of his finger, twisting it as he slid it up. Sensitive, your mouth popped open, a silent moan, all a gust of air, whatever you had left within you. In one quick motion San took his hand from your throat and gripped your jaw, smirking as you gulped down a breath just before he took his fingers from between your legs and pressed them to your tongue. “Suck.”

And you listened, and he hummed with pride. Wrapping your lips around his fingers, tasting yourself, your knees shook, and he didn’t have a third hand to hold you up.

He moved quick, San wasted little time in the bedroom, he had you face down on his roommate's bed before you could even swallow. Pushing your dress up, out of the way, the fabric cinching over your middle, he grabbed you by the hips and lifted them up, higher. On his knees, his shirt hitting the floor as he pushed his clothed length against you, he sighed as you moaned, uttering a quiet, “Yes,” as his hands gripped at your bare ass.

Smoothing his palms over your skin, he admired the view, smiling down at you and how you twisted to look back at him, head pushed down into the grey duvet. His eyes drew lower, at where your bodies met, how his hard cock pressed against your thong, and his smile grew. Pushing his hips forward, arching backward a bit, he glanced down at himself and groaned.

You arched down into the bed and pushed your ass into him, your knees slipping open a little wider.

The sound outside in the hallway grew. Doors were opened and shut, more voices filled the space. Muscles tensing, San felt it. Not worried in the slightest, he slid a hand down your back and leaned over you, pressing kisses to your shoulders.

“Don’t listen,” he whispered between slow kisses, the soft smack of his lips and gentle rutting of his hips into your center grounding you, keeping you in the room with him. “You and me,” he whispered.

“You and me,” you whispered, but your words twisted with a moan. Hooking a finger in your thong he tugged it aside and had his zipper down in a flash. He wore nothing beneath his pants, because of course he didn’t.

“Shut the fuck up!”

Your body jolted.

Soul shouted in the hall, laughter following.

His dipshit asshole friends.

San, aware of it all, grabbed onto your hips and pulled you back, pushing himself into you, filling you up entirely, and then some. The sounds that left you weren’t enough to quiet the hall, the longer they stayed there the more your attention would be split.

And San couldn’t have that.

It ticked him off.

You knew it did, but there was nothing you could do about it.

Ignoring how it all made you feel, San pounding into you, your wails bouncing off the walls and into the hall, the boys out there listening to it all go down. He’d know it was you, he’s heard this before, he’s made you sound like this before, there was no mystery. Any college sophomore in their right mind would have their ear pressed to the door, and though every thought that popped into your head was being fucked right out, you couldn’t imagine him exploiting you. Letting his friends listen, as much as they longed to take his place for those many months. Your Soul wouldn’t allow it.

But, if they were… If he did…

The heat took over. Your legs spread, you melted, your nipples pebbled, your toes curled. Pushing off the bed San fucked you into, you arched backward and laid on his chest, reaching backward to tangle your fingers in his hair, giving the strands a harsh pull. He sucked air in through his teeth and punished you with a spank. Yelping at the sting, he drank up the giggles you gave him soon after.

“Yeah, you like that?” Smirking, he wrapped his other hand around your throat and spanked you again. A moaning, babbling mess, you turned your head and blinked up at him. He pressed down on your neck and pouted at how your brows flipped. “Oh, babe,” he cooed, fucking into you harder, admiring how a smile played at your lips, “Only whores make eye contact.”

You giggled.

San, turning red in the face, took his hands off of you and pushed you back down against the mattress. “You playin’ fucking games?”

Sucking air into your lungs, you grabbed fistfuls of the duvet and blinked back into reality now that his hands weren’t on you. His dick thrust into you, he drew another orgasm closer, but he wasn’t touching you.

You’ve spent nights face first on a mattress before, this wasn’t anything new. What he did to you, how he spoke to you- all things you’ve asked him to do. Over the months, the year, you couldn’t place why it didn’t satisfy you, why it wasn’t enough, why you were always missing something, always feeling like something wasn’t right when the sex was all you wanted, and sex you received.

It struck you now, blatantly straight across the face.

Whiplash.

Six months of San, Soul, Wooyoung- it didn’t compare to the six months of Yunho.

To the six months of lingering touches, lingering gazes. The six months of taking your time, learning something new about the other each time you stripped each other down to nothing. Six months of pure need, pure bliss, true curiosity, absolute care, a certain gentleness to each move no matter the circumstance.

Six months of it meaning something more than just being pushed into a mattress.

He would touch you. His hands would stay on your body. He’d never let you get so far away. He’d never make you feel so far away.

Here, on a random bed, you’ve never felt further from anyone.

San grabbed back onto your hips, pulling you right out of the spiral.

“Two more, baby,” he praised. “Come on, pretty girl.”

Pushing up onto your hands, you arched your back and flipped your hair over your shoulder, giving him a look. His devilish smile sparked that feeling within you.

He’d distract you for the next hour or so, and then, you decided, you’d be done.

friday ~ september 19th ~ 2:13 pm

“Everything's set, the schedule is scheduling, tomorrow will be perfect.”

Yuna smiled at Tori from her 1940s velvet green lounge chair. “Of course it’ll be perfect, look at everything you’ve done. No one’s gone to these extremes before, Tor, you’re already setting new standards.”

Your knees bumped the desk as you twirled your chair around for the third time. Using your hands to peddle about, your feet sat on the cushion, your legs pulled up from the floor. Gripping the wood, you dug your nails into it and brought yourself to a stop. The girls have been speaking to one another for a half hour and you haven’t said a word.

Leaning against the desk, standing in front of it, Tori, in a white bodysuit that showed off her tattoos and a denim mini skirt that hugged her hips just right, led the girls just right. Without looking at her notes once she ran over the itinerary for tomorrow, not leaving out one measly detail. With her chin high, she gave orders, she assigned duties, she ensured her day would run smoothly, that her dinner would go to plan. Chaewon and Yunjin, with stars in their eyes, listened to her, watched her, studied her, embodied her in their posture, in how they carried themselves. Yuna, with all the trust in the world, beamed at her friend, sharing some of that pride with you, a few glances here and there, but ultimately, Tori received it all.

As she should.

You listened, you paid attention, you held just as much pride for Tori as the rest of them, if not more, whether or not you were able to properly show it amongst what hung over your head. The guilt of not being present didn’t even have time to set in, your mothers several voicemails filled every void with an even bigger void, a deeper void. A void you didn’t even know was a void until Wooyoung described it that way.

He’s invited to the ATZ parties now, but unfortunately he wasn’t able to be in attendance last night to witness you self medicating, but your poison has a big mouth and he found out anyway. Waking up, in your own bed, alone, with Tori in hers, to one disappointed text message from him had been enough to set you off for the day.

You’ve been on autopilot since eight o’clock this morning, after you made yourself sick to get rid of awfulness within you, not realizing it was going to take a lot more than vomiting to clear out the shit in your head.

Yunho was at the party last night and your paths didn’t cross once. Either San did an excellent job of keeping you from him, or he’d been actively avoiding you.

A lump lodged in your throat. Pushing your hands against the desk you spun the chair around two more times, swallowing profusely, withholding your tears from slipping down your cheeks. These girls would not see you cry.

Exhausted, hungover, and heartbroken, you didn’t have much of a choice.

The chair came to a stop, your knees hitting the wood before you dropped your head and wrapped your arms around yourself, sobs pouring from you in an instant. Hushed whispers sounded around you, meaningless noise you couldn’t pick apart until there was only one voice left, speaking to you.

“Ror?”

Tori.

Her hand slid over your back, over the Nasara logo down your spine. Crouching down beside you, she pushed your hair aside, persuading you to turn to look at her. When your eyes met, she smiled, a soft one, only her lips perking up beneath her worried gaze.

Sniffling, you lifted your head and wiped your cheeks, giving your head a shake. “I have to talk to him.” Voice broken, you’re shocked she made out your whisper.

She slid her hand over your arm, tracing your fingers with her own. “Please, talk to him.”

Mustering up a deep breath, you sighed, another cry escaping you. “Why hasn’t he said anything? I was there last night, we crossed paths this week so many times, and… nothing.”

Tori nodded, her brown waves dancing over her bare shoulders. “I really don’t wanna be in the middle of this anymore, you know that, but what I told you is true. He does,” she paused, then gestured toward you, “This, over you. He’s just as much of a mess, Ror. You guys are still playing whatever game you set into place last year.”

The game.

Yunho not speaking to you unless you speak to him first.

“I slept with San last night,” you muttered, and her eyes bugged out of her head.

“What the fuck? I thought you were cut off!”

A smile pulled at your lips. “By Wooyoung,” you reached out to poke the tip of her nose with your pinky. She jutted her chin backward and thinned her lips. “Not San. I found a loophole.”

“You shouldn’t be doing anything in regards to loops or holes,” she curled her lips and stood up to her feet.

“Wait,” you whispered, reaching for both of her wrists.

Her being tensed. It was as if she was waiting for something, or expecting something. You could take this moment to tell her, that you were ready to give it all up, that you couldn’t stand being in this position, having accidentally become important at work- you didn’t want any of it. Between grades, your mother, Yunho, your father, you’d much rather be doing anything else.

As a member of the sorority your only duty had been to show up for your sisters, support your leaders, attend events, pay your dues, and keep your grades up. Now, you were responsible for your sisters, you had to support the leaders beside you and all of the chapter members, you were responsible for every event, your dues had gone up exponentially, and you haven’t had a lick of time to even once think about your grades, your schoolwork.

You still needed, and were required to have an internship before graduation. It was a requirement. Without one there would be no cap and gown in your future, within the next eight months.

Tori had plans. Tori knew where she wanted to end up. Tori and Mingi would move to Iloa next summer, together, they’d jump headfirst into full time positions, the both of them interning for the same marketing company her sisters management team uses. The opportunity fell into their laps the night of Sitara’s movie premiere, and without question, they gobbled it up.

As they should.

You were in the same major. You’ve taken all the classes. You’ve seen what you can do after graduation.

Not one bit of it interested you.

In the start, sure, it seemed cool. Social media used to be fun for you, you could build that into something bigger. You were good at editing photos, at editing bodies of words people needed proofread, you could throw together a presentation and sell your ass off. Moving to Iloa, working in a corporate office, sitting in meetings such as these you’ve been subjected to for almost a full four years, listening to people brainstorm and shovel out ideas to be shot down, leaders berating their members, taking away their autonomy…

Shit like that, power in that sense, it all sat at your fingertips now.

You wanted no part of it.

No one should have all that power.

Whether it was yours, or Tori’s, or Yeji’s…

You couldn’t handle it.

Too many girls looked to you now for answers, for structure, for stability. All your life you’ve never had answers, or structure, or stability. You were clueless as to what any of that felt like, what any of that looked like, how in the hell were you supposed to rule over them for a year if you didn’t have within you the very thing they needed.

Wooyoung says you’re running. Your father would be disappointed. Your friends, they’d think you were a coward. Yunho, what would he say?

Around this time last year you were handed this position. It should’ve been yours from the start, this was supposed to be your second full year of presidency. You took it without a thought. So much had been taken, stolen from you, you felt as though you had no other choice.

Maybe you were running.

“Tori,” you whispered, brows flipping over as you stared up at her. She gulped, shaking her head the tiniest bit. “You know how grateful I am for you, right?”

“Course,” she breathed, her eyes narrowing.

“Everything we’ve been through, we did it together,” you said, and she nodded. “This past summer-”

She closed her eyes and shook her head faster. “We don’t have to get into it, I don’t wanna even remember-”

“Tori,” you gave her hands a shake and smiled at her when she opened her eyes, “I…”

She blinked. “You, what?”

Pursing your lips, you glanced about the room and let out some sort of laugh that made her face screw up. “I don’t want to be the president anymore.”

“What?” she spat, pushing your hands away.

Looking back up at her, your smile deepened, and you shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t wanna be it. I don’t wanna do it.”

“Aurora,” she sighed, dropping down to her knees, nearly eye level with you from the floor. “Do you know what you’re saying? I know you, and I know there’s a shit ton of truth behind this. You don’t wanna be the president anymore?” Through her whispers, her half gasps, her frantic gaze scattered about the room, she sucked in a breath and sighed yet again. “I know things have been… hard.”

Fluttering your eyes shut, you smized, sarcasm dripping from your expression.

“But, you can’t just… This is something you’ve…”

Her voice trailed off. Opening your eyes, you found her in thought, the gears grinding behind her bright eyes. Blinking three times, she parted her lips with a smack, cocked her head aside and gaped at you.

“You… never wanted this,” she whispered.

“It was never a thought,” you said. Reaching out, you placed a finger beneath her chin and closed her mouth for her. She shied away just as she did before. “This wasn’t a goal I wanted to achieve. I didn’t even have time to think about it before I accepted, or… before I… let it happen.”

Steadying herself with one hand on the desk and the other on the chair, she took a deep breath and stood to her feet, her head bobbing. “Okay,” she said, voice hushed. “Okay, we can… we can talk about this.” Looking at you she held out a hand for you to take, and she pulled you out of the chair. “Let’s go eat.”

“Let’s go eat,” you whispered, and she nodded, shock still living upon her face.

Taking a hand to your shoulder she guided you from the room. “Yeah, and maybe get a couple drinks, too.”

NU home ✧ speechless masterlist ✧ talk to me ✧ ao3

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littlest-w01f · 6 months ago

Text

Crushing

For @acotargiftexchange

This is my gift for my lovely recipient @cinmawrites

ACOTARGIFTEXCHANGE MASTERLIST

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven

A desk job was not something Feyre Archeron had imagined for her future, but with her business major, that was what she saw in her future. After graduating, she'd be working full time at the Starfall Publishing House, for now she only interned during her last year of studies.

She wore a crisp white blouse and fitted black skirt, paired with a coat to help with the chill of early December, feeling somewhat out of place among the sea of creative types in the bustling office. The hum of keyboards and animated chatter filled the air as colleagues collaborated on manuscripts, brainstorming sessions, and marketing strategies.

As Feyre knocked on and stepped into Rhysand's lavish office, with a coffee on a tray, her boss himself looked up from behind his sleek desk, his piercing blue gaze meeting hers, his eyes were so deep they appeared violet. His raven hair was perfectly tousled, framing his angular face and chiselled features. He wore a tailored black suit that accentuated his lean physique, exuding an aura of power and sophistication.

The office space was a testament to Rhysand's refined taste. Plush crimson carpets softened the sound of footsteps, while the walls were adorned with stunning pieces of art depicting breathtaking landscapes. Towering windows framed a breathtaking view of the city below, the twinkling lights as stars, planets and other celestial bodies painted a mesmerizing mural on the roof.

Feyre loved looking at the roof of Rhysand's office, admiring the strokes that it took to create the masterpiece, she'd painted a sky like that on her dresses when she was young, the memory still strong, the only good one she had of her childhood. Once upon a time, she might've furthered her passion for art, but she needed money more than she loved art, to not end up on the streets. It was one of the reasons she wanted the internship that was offered because of the pay.

In the centre of the room, a magnificent crystal chandelier cast a rainbow of colours across the polished furniture, adding to the ambience. A floor-to-ceiling bookshelf lined one wall, filled with books bound in leather, their gilded lettering glinting in the soft light.

As Feyre turned back to face Rhysand, she felt a flutter in her chest, her cheeks warming slightly under his intense scrutiny. She cleared her throat and set the coffee down on the edge of his desk before pulling out files and a pen from her bag.

"I brought your morning briefing, sir," She said, flipping open the files to reveal neatly written notes on current projects, deadlines, and meetings scheduled for the day. "Everything seems to be on track."

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, hand wrapping around his cup of coffee, as he regarded her while looking over the file. "Excellent work, Ms Archeron. Your attention to detail is impressive." His voice was low and smooth, like velvet. "I trust you're finding the internship... Enlightening?"

The compliment formed a pleasant smile on her face, but she couldn't shake off the lingering unease that always seemed to accompany their interactions. There was something about him - the way he looked at her, the tone of his voice, the very air he commanded - that made one feel both drawn to and intimidated by him. She'd heard plenty of people say he simply had that effect on them.

"I've been doing well, thank you," She replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's been a great learning experience so far." She hesitated, then added, "Although Amren is still a little cold."

"Yes, well, my secretary does have a reputation for being... Formidable," Rhysand chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "But don't let her prickly exterior fool you. Beneath all those sharp edges lies a brilliant mind and a fierce loyalty."

Feyre nodded, trying to picture the enigmatic Amren beneath her icy demeanour. "Then I look forward to getting to know her better." She paused, considering how much to share. "Speaking of which, I wanted to ask about my role within the company. With my background in business, I hope there would be more opportunities for growth..."

Rhysand leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk, his piercing gaze holding hers captive. "Ah, yes. Well, we do value a good business acumen here at Starfall. In fact, I've been considering promoting you to a junior management position once you complete your internship and final year." His lips curved into a small, enigmatic smile. "Of course, such a role comes with certain... Responsibilities and expectations. Nothing you can't handle, if you impress me further we'll see what's next for you."

Feyre nodded eagerly, her heart pounding at the prospect of advancement in her career. "That sounds wonderful, sir. I won't disappoint." She met his gaze, trying to convey her determination and gratitude.

Rhysand inclined his head, a hint of approval in his expression. "I believe in potential, Ms. Archeron. Potential that I intend to nurture and develop within these walls. I expect great things from you." He stood up, moving around the desk to stand closer to her, his presence commanding despite his measured steps.

Feyre felt herself straightened up slightly as Rhysand approached, her breath catching in her throat. His proximity was overwhelming, the scent of his cologne mingling with the rich aroma of leather-bound books and polished wood. She could see the individual flecks of dark blue in his irises, like scattered stars against an endless night sky.

Feyre swallowed hard, her pulse quickening as she found herself inches away from his imposing form. She could smell the faint scent of his cologne, musky and alluring. Her mind raced, unsure how to respond to this sudden shift in their interaction.

Before Feyre could formulate a response, Rhysand abruptly stepped back, reclaiming some distance between them. "Well, I suppose that's enough small talk for now," he said, his tone abrupt yet controlled. "You should get back to your work. I'm sure Amren has already begun scrutinizing your every move."

Feyre blinked, feeling a rush of relief mixed with disappointment at the sudden change in atmosphere. She quickly gathered her things, nodding briskly. "Yes, of course. Thank you again for your time, Mr. Darling."

Rhysand's eyes lingered on Feyre's form as she walked out of his office, drinking in the delicate curves of her features, the flush of colour on her neck that was visible through the strands of her hair, the sparkle of intelligence that lay in her deep blueish-grey eyes. He could sense the subtle shift in her posture, the way her breath quickened ever so slightly in his presence. Yes, there was most definitely an undeniable attraction between them, simmering just beneath the surface.

His thoughts drifted to the countless nights spent alone in his home, the emptiness echoing through the halls. But with Feyre in the room, even now, he found himself intrigued, captivated.

Rhysand's mind wandered, imagining the possibilities of having Feyre closer, seeing her every day, hearing her laughter ring out in the halls of his grand estate. He pictured her sitting across from him at dinner, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as they simply talked. He envisioned her curled up beside him on the couch, lost in a book, as he stroked her hair, whispering words of encouragement.

The fantasy was intoxicating, almost too tempting to resist. Yet, Rhysand knew he must remain cautious. Feyre was an intern, after all, and he held a position of power over her, a whole lot more than she knew. Crossing lines could lead to complications best avoided. Still, he couldn't deny the allure of her presence, the of the fantasy that that begun to plague his mind at the mere sight of her.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, Feyre found herself inexplicably drawn to Rhysand's charismatic presence. Every time their paths crossed, her heart skipped a beat, her pulse racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation. She couldn't quite put her finger on why, but there was something undeniably magnetic about him - the way his eyes seemed to see right through her, the depth of his voice, the confident air he carried like second nature.

Feyre often caught herself stealing glances at him during meetings, marvelling at the way his lips curved into a knowing smirk or the way his raven hair fell across his forehead when he leaned back to discuss a project. He was so casual yet so professional, a part of her didn't understand where they stood. If he was like that with everyone or just her. She found herself working extra hard to earn a compliment from him, putting in a lot of effort on her work and on herself.

While she was walking back to her college dorms her phone buzzed with an incoming text message. Heart fluttering, Feyre pulled out her device, hoping against hope it might be Rhysand reaching out. But instead of his name flashing across the screen, she saw the familiar name of her best friend.

MORRI💃: Hey girl! I miss you<3. How's life in the corporate world treating ya? How long till you'll be back?

Feyre let out a sighed laugh, her disappointment momentarily replaced by amusement. She had been so preoccupied with Rhysand that she hadn't reached out to Mor the entire day, but now, they had the rest of the time together. Morrigan was a fashion marketing major, and they shared a dorm, forming a fast friendship almost three years ago when they started university.

With only a moment of thought Feyre typed out a quick reply, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

FEYFEY🎨: Hey Mors! Missed you too. Work life's crazy busy, but in a good way. Was just done with my internship then I'm free to indulge in Netflix binges and take naps whenever we want 😴.

As soon as she hit send, Feyre felt a pang of longing. She missed Mor's bubbly energy and their late-night chats about everything under the sun. University had been challenging, but sharing a room with her best friend made it bearable. Now that midterms were over they finally had time for some peace and partying.

Ten minutes later, Feyre swung open the door to her dormitories. She turned to see Mor bouncing up, her vibrant hair rolled up in messy heatless curler, a wide grin plastered across her face. she wrapped Feyre in a tight hug, nearly knocking the wind out of her. "Welcome back!!"

"Oof, hey yourself!" Feyre laughed, returning the embrace. As they separated, Mor took Feyre's hand, leading her inside their cosy shared space. The room was cluttered with fashion magazines and piles of textbooks. A string of fairy lights twinkled above their desks, casting a warm glow over the space.

There was a third, now empty bed, their ex-roommate had moved out, Ianthe, the name still filled Feyre and Mor with rage. They both shuddered at the thought of Ianthe, memories of her manipulative behaviour and cruel pranks flooding back. It had taken months for the roommates to recover from her toxic influence, but eventually, they had managed to heal and rebuild their friendship stronger than ever.

Mor plopped down on their plush beanbag chair, beckoning Feyre to join her. "So, tell me more about this internship. What's it like working with Rhys?"

Feyre hesitated, forgetting how casually Mor talked of him, he was her cousin after all, and she had, in her own words, bitten his ear off to get Feyre the internship she had, she never asked for anything in return but Feyre took Mor out on her first paycheque. But Mor's genuine interest and concern for her well-being made her open up. "It's... Intense."

Feyre fiddled with the hem of her blouse, unbuttoning her top to change into something more casual. "He's demanding, always pushing me to do better," Feyre explained, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she remembered Rhysand's intense stare and commanding presence. "And the work itself is also nice... I'm getting used to it."

Mor nodded attentively, her brown eyes sparkling with understanding. "I can imagine. Rhys has always been driven, even when we were younger. But if he's motivating you, that's great!"

She paused, studying Feyre's expression closely. "But there's something else, isn't there? Something you're not telling me…" Mor's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, eyes locked on Feyre's soft crimson cheeks. "Come on, spill. What's really going on? Does Feyre have her first big girl crush?"

In all the years that they had known each other, while Mor had many women in her life, Feyre rarely showed interest in anyone, and the blush on her face told her everything she needed to know.

Feyre's cheeks flushed a deep crimson at the attention, and she quickly looked away, avoiding eye contact. "Oh, shut up!" she muttered, trying to play it cool despite the fluttering sensation in her chest. "No... I don't."

Truthfully, she hadn't allowed herself to acknowledge these new feelings, not even to herself in the weeks she'd had them. It was too strange, too sudden, too overwhelming. But Mor's teasing remark had struck a nerve, making Feyre realize just how much her thoughts had strayed to Rhysand lately.

"I mean, he's... Handsome, I guess," Feyre said, still struggling to find the right words. "And smart, and funny in his own way. But that doesn't mean—"

"You're crushing hard, Feyre!" Mor cut in, her voice dripping with amusement. "Don't try to deny it." Mor stood up and sauntered over to Feyre, gently grasping her shoulders and turning her to face the mirror that hung above their dresser. "Look at yourself, Feys. Your blush says it all."

Feyre's reflection showed her with rosy cheeks, a shy smile playing on her lips, and an unmistakable sparkle in her eyes. She did look different right now, more vibrant and alive than usual. Perhaps she could admit it to herself.

"You've got that dreamy, lovesick look going on," Mor teased, poking Feyre's nose affectionately. "It's adorable, really. And I think you should explore these feelings, see where they lead. Maybe it leads to you become my sister for real."

At that, Feyre burst out laughing, unable to maintain her composure any longer. "You're ridiculous, Mor!" She giggled, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "I barely know the man. It's far too soon to think about... You know... I doubt he even thinks about me. He's probably too busy being rich and managing companies."

Mor grinned, pleased to have gotten such a strong reaction out of her friend. "Far too soon, huh?" She hummed, "Well, maybe you should spend some quality time with him then, get to know him better. Who knows, maybe you'll discover he's your soulmate or something equally dramatic. And then you'll make me an auntie."

She winked playfully, then turned serious for a moment. "But honestly, Feyre, I'm happy for you either way. You deserve someone who makes you happy, and if you feel like Rhys is that person, then that's wonderful." Mor gave Feyre a gentle squeeze before releasing her. "Now, enough about your love life. I'm going to order us pizzas, you put on the movie."

With a nod, Fyere bounced onto her twin bed, reaching for her laptop and charger, scrolling through searching for their guilty pleasure, Christmas movie, something they watched almost every year.

Mor grabbed her phone and began typing away, pausing to glance back at Feyre. "Hey, don't forget to relax tonight, okay? No stressing about work or anything else. Just enjoy the pizza, the movie, and each other's company. We haven't had a proper girls' night in ages. We'll do facemasks and nails, just a pampering sesh."

She blew a kiss and slipped into their shared bathroom, leaving Feyre alone with her thoughts. As the door closed behind Mor, Feyre couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling within her - excitement, nervousness, anticipation. She knew she needed to process these new feelings, but for now, she decided to push them aside and focus on the simple pleasure of spending time with her best friend.

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