101doa

[kooyabooya]

SPECTRE

m reader x giselle // 32k words

part one of silken promises

This astonishing thing about fate you realize - probably, is that it doesn’t have a solid line on the end of a paper for you to sign off on. And honestly, if that were to be the case, you’d wipe off the ink immediately after; call the offer off and hide under the flashing lights, waiting to reap you of your secrets. 

In pure and utter laziness, you’re saying: “Well, I just had a different vision of it in my head, of how all of this would play out.” 

Giselle twists her face to you with a raised eyebrow, clearly insulted. 

“Sure, the simple life of having a house outside of town and in the woods sounds nice and all, maybe some kids to fill the empty space between the rooms, but I just thought that we would have-” 

She flicks away her cigarette. “It’s an arranged marriage, you dumbass. They wouldn’t care how we thought it’d go either way.” 

The conclusions were already drawn up, and agreements were already in place. You have your reasons for stalling the talks. She tells you that the deal’s ludicrous; you consider it to be archaic - as a counterargument, you think, and holds your point there. 

“Now that you’ve signed the damn papers finally,” Giselle proposes, “How do you want to go about this?” She asks, already wondering what will make the two of you being ‘officially’ together. 

Your answer didn’t matter to your parents nor hers, but just with Giselle and Giselle only. She sees this forced entanglement to be a matter of principle; to appeal the masses, and suffer the flack in the latter later. You see it as your own life being sealed away, without fully grasping your head at the fact of what you’re getting yourself into. 

–

To address the armageddon of narratives bouncing around and between the headlines capped in bold fonts through the phone screen, this is what you know: 

You’ve got a stake in the family business - a rough, sizable percentage in the double digits if you want to consider it comfy but - no point in disputing the diluted shares over your father’s dead body. He’s overseen the company’s growth from when you were in diapers, blindly convincing you on a dare to work alongside him; law and business degree aside, you wished that you’d focused on writing, or architecture. You’re not so entirely sure yourself, but your luck in being born into a family that’s made themselves well off two to three decades away from retiring and enjoying the tempting pastures that life has to offer; it’ll happen soon, but needless to say: you’re rich, and pretty famous. 

There’s this new family merging into the family business group: the Uchinagas. At first glance, the family is like yours, probably placed on the other side of the coin. The father’s been a longtime friend with your father since college, starting up various start-up projects before eventually parting ways to build their own business to high degrees of success. The same could also be said for the mother: knee-deep in the fashion industry with connections and almost every top model that she could ever call in her contact list, and your mother’s got her nose in some brands that crossover with her mutuals. Then, there’s the daughter.

On another refresh and through a different outlet of news on your phone, you see this one website was claiming that the Uchinaga’s are a bright new addition to the family business, a cover photo capturing you and her standing side by side for a gala event that was hosted by her family. Her birthday party, as a matter of fact. 

Right off the bat, she looks amazing in the photo, there’s no denying that. It’s got everything within the lines of glitz and glamor, considering the amount of effort that they’ve put in towards the party held in their backyard, let alone the sizable guest list (that you had no idea of making it in, but it’s written in ink); Giselle Uchinaga’s shoulder brushes against yours - drinking in the moment - where all the eyes, cameras, and lights are solely on her, and you also arm your look of genuine admiration to her at the side. 

Her hair is in these embered, wavy locks, resting right beside the bust of her off-white dress, wrists and neck shining with the most expensive jewelry that could ever be gifted to her. More of the pictures from her birthday celebration actually make it into the article, building a profile for the hottest global ‘it girl’ that’s got nearly all the rich guys or guys with notable profiles fawning over her when she’s in close proximity. She seems very camera shy at times, and that’s apparent when your shoulder shields half of her face when you’re beaming the widest smirk that you could wear. In a way, this still serves as a clear foreshadowing that’s yet to be foreseen, since the posse that you two possess almost candidly appears that way: a wedding celebration, or a grand coronation of something bigger, like royalty. 

(It’s a pairing that the people realize that it’s the kind of pairing that wasn’t wanted, but needed.)

The pictures from the party continue to get swiped across the screen. And you can kind of see what everyone’s been talking about. 

Sure, there’s the shared history of attending the same law school together, taking the same classes, meeting in various events with the respective families in different showcases and brand engagements. Sharing a few words with each other but never really escalating above that imaginary barrier that you’ve falsely put up in your mind to make sure that you’re not thinking about the different kinds of ‘what if’s’ and ‘maybe’s’.

You and Giselle aren’t exactly friends, just mere acquaintances - to better the title between you two at best. 

(You’ve played it safe, however: away from the tabloids, not getting yourself into any kind of trouble whether it’s outside of office hours or in various business dealings that you were tasked with. Needless to say, you’ve got it easy; while the same can’t really be said for Giselle, who’s always getting herself into trouble. She’s no stranger to scandals, let alone having her name and face on the front page of a newspaper or the first thing you see starting up your computer in the mornings. Always involved in some form of drama that gets twisted by the journalists, some of them wanting to taint the image of not only her’s, but the family’s as well.

Aside from that infamous picture of you and her together at the birthday party, there’s also one other article from a shady news source that only focuses on the worst in celebrities. She’s managed to put herself right into the primed position - where she’s getting busy with someone she met from the nightclub on a whim, fingers twiddling with the belt buckle of said lucky contestant, while his hands are about to get busy, pressing deeper into the mix of fabric harboring the skin of her hips. Everyone within the first five seconds of seeing that picture can immediately put two and two together - write up different points of commentary and subtext between the lines; but the words, especially the ones that are created soon after - it sparks a supernova of sorts in the media.) 

But you switch to the original tab and scroll back up to the photo from the birthday party, just to get a good look at it. A double take with the provided optics. You can see why people are in awe between you two. It’s laughable that people online are calling for this waiting ship to sail. 

So much for saying that you and Giselle are just ‘mere acquaintances’ to each other, but you’ll let the rumors curdle in speculation. 

–

This merger, however, was supposed to be seen with a positive outlook in mind. 

It was supposed to be seen as a healthy, mutual relationship between the two parties of your family and Giselle’s family, along with the deeply rooted rapport lying underneath the professional connection. It was supposed to be a step towards something great; not only for the business, but the image of all companies involved to gain a massive boost in profits from the public. 

Doesn’t help with the fact that there were some ambitious individuals in the field of journalism who were willing to undermine this special moment, threatening to expose a scam that involved your father and Giselle’s father in a business venture gone bad years ago. Murky details aside, but we’ll just say that there’s blood on someone’s hands. No amount of money bribed could ever sway those guys to walk away from a story that will create shockwaves throughout the industry - if it did get out. 

Luckily, they agreed to the hush-money settlement, with some persuasive (and questionable methods, but you couldn’t care fuck all about their overall condition physically) methods from your family’s legal team, but that incident was just the sole catalyst for more people to start sniffing around the business. The questions keep coming in, and the news are always hungry for a story born out of blood. 

So.

There was an agreement that’s nearly set in stone. An agreement without you or Giselle knowing of the deal in the first place: to have you and her to be used by the family as trojan horses - as scapegoats - to veer the burning spotlight away from the anticipating merger and have it focus on the forced relationship fabricated between you two. 

The announcement has still yet to be made, the primary reason is because you were reluctant to show up to the three meetings prior with Giselle’s family to discuss terms and conditions, but she’s also done the same in not being in attendance. A form of protest that you didn’t even get in contact with her to do, but you’re also content that she’s on the same page as you. 

Albeit this was a clear non-verbal middle finger to both your parents and Giselle’s, you’d do everything you can to drag out the talks for as long as you could. This proved to be effective, until your father started to meddle with your personal stake of the company, intimidating you to reconsider the offer; or else your piece of the business, the one that you’ve created from the ground up, was absorbed back to his control. 

You’re fighting a battle that you cannot win. Not when you’re cornered and bottlenecked to the point where it feels like you’ve got no way out. 

At least you’re not alone on your side. 

–

“The Uchinaga’s are waiting,” someone says to you. Your eyes fixated on the monitor and the packet on your desk being skimmed through with a twirl to your pen, “Should I let them know that you’ll head over in a minute or two? Sir?” 

Then it hits you when you look up. The deadline. This arrangement was the last round of talks before the final decision could be drawn up, regardless if you put in your own word or not. It’s a little late in the morning, and you’ve got yourself knee-deep in paperwork. What’s even the point of showing up to the meeting if you haven’t been to them for the past couple weeks? 

“My bad, Winter,” you say to your secretary, dropping whatever you were doing at your desk to prepare yourself, listening to the clicks of heels along the floor as Winter helps you put on your jacket, following her out of your office, “I completely forgot that the meeting was today. I owe you for that.” 

“You can save it for after when you get out of your own little pickle,” Winter tuts, sitting back down at her desk right outside the main walkway. “May I remind you that you’re also the one that got into this mess in the first place?” 

“Do you really have to remind me with that question every time these meetings are about to happen?” 

“What? It's a good starting point in conversation.” Winter answers, looking over along with you to the increase of people pooling through the main entrance past the elevators. “Look at that,” she says, raising her eyebrows when you're doing the double take, “And so the hurricane comes crashing in.” 

Even from a distance, you can still single out Giselle and her parents as they walk more into the floor of your office. The visuals are still insane to see; not a flaw to be noticed from any of the three. It’s a little bit frightening. Giselle takes her place right behind her father and mother, as if they too, were her own line of defense, protecting her like some prize that was worth attaining, diverting some of the attention towards her in a different direction. The surrounding office workers take a pause to look, watch as they meet your parents, exchange greetings and the usual niceties since it’s second nature. Your mother looks at your father, assuming that the inquiry was about your presence, and your father actually flashes his eyes in your direction, telling you from afar: We’re expecting you to be here. Don’t be stupid and make us wait here all day. 

As much as you’d want to refuse with a simple turn the other cheek, you know that today was not that day to do that. Not anymore. With a simple nod, you comply with your father’s demands, and he nods too. He then motions your mother, along with Giselle and her family inside the assigned room set up for the gathering, looking back to ensure that you won’t be long behind. 

“Are you busy?” you ask Winter, surprising her with the sudden question that makes her tense up in her seat, “Normally you’re not busy since you’ve done the stuff that I’ve asked you to. So I’m just gonna assume that’s a yes.” 

“How’d ya know? What are you, some kind of mind reader?” She laughs, hands up to emphasize the sarcastic propositions, “Who do you think you are, me?” 

You shake your head, nicking it to the side to signal your request, “I’m not even gonna answer that. Just walk with me.” 

Winter obeys, immediately standing up and rounding her desk to be at your right hand side, bearing down the pathway to the main conference room where the meeting was happening. “I gotta ask: Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” 

“Haven’t had an idea in the slightest.” You answer, speeding up your pace by one or two bigger steps in your stride. “Remember that preliminary assessment we had on Giselle? Why don’t you run that by me–” 

Winter clicks her tongue, mind already fast enough to pick up on what you were asking: “Giselle is the only child of the Uchinaga family. She graduated top of her class with a degree in law at your alma mater, also has degrees in finance and business. She’s got praises from well-known individuals to be the poster child with her line of work. Oh hey, that really reminds me of someone else now that I think about it-” 

“You smartass.” you smirk at the hidden verbal jab thrown at you, walking past the cubicles and heading right up the walkway, “Keep going.” 

“She’s got herself in business and ambassador deals with brands that upped the stock prices for posters, billboards, social media posts, selfies with fans, daily engagements and appearances, etcetera etcetera-  you name it.” Winter continues with the mini info exposition dump, matching your stride. “Every picture or tag that has her face or name plastered and attached is never ignored. Not to mention she’s-” 

“I need to hear what matters, Wint.” 

“She’s also a bit cynical, blowhard, a pretty pick-me girl, uncrowned royalty, someone that’s a bit reckless and in for the thrill of trouble. A bit spoiled with her things, I think. Bratty might also be another term thrown up in the air. Presents the refined etiquette when it matters, but in most cases, she doesn’t really care.” Winter muses, listing all of the different characteristics with her dainty fingers, “Is that too much, or can I add more?” 

You stop at the door of the conference room. Behind it was your parents and Giselle’s, along with some considerable figures orchestrating the deal along with them, waiting for your arrival to commence the meeting. Right when you were about to enter, you bridge your eyebrows together towards Winter, nearly appalled at all the things she’s mentioned about the girl you’re being paired with, “Are you sure that’s what you assessed, or is what you’re saying about her just out of spite?” 

Winter cocks her head, rolls her eyes up to where the eyelids rest at the top, “If you wanted me to be nicer, why didn’t you say so?” 

(You know that Giselle’s got some good graces in her heart - but she’s not perfect, clearly - she’s on the same boat as you: a little problematic with a thing or two that’s worth hiding.) 

“Just wanted to see what was your personal angle about Giselle, that’s all. Nothing too deep.” 

“Among other things,” Winter breathes, stopping herself with a hand on her hip, “I think she’s amazing, aside from everything I just said about her,” she concedes soon after, sighing,  “Most people with a status would kill to be in your position right now, even if they knew what was happening behind the scenes or not.” 

“Are you telling me that there’s benefits to this?” 

“Giselle’s a heartthrob.” Winter puts it simply. “Play your cards right with this deal, and who knows what might happen.” 

Winter then walks away, walking backwards while maintaining eye contact with your widened eyes. There’s something in the back of your head that wants to admit some form of defeat, finding comfort that there’s a possible silver lining in a connection with Giselle. You don’t hate the girl. No. That would be too harsh - a spectre manifested deep within your mind out of uncertainties that would prove to be your own demise in the false name of love. 

Love. You’re thinking as your fingers grip the door handle. That’s a little bit out of your lineage anyway - but what’s the worst that could happen? 

–

Giselle, her parents, along with a few people that were comprised to be the additional handlers on the team are all seated around the table, binders and folders with various contracts - revised and refurbished - covering all the necessary details and crooks within the lines; you remember hearing the talks having orderly returns in terms of feedback, assuring that everything would cover the shady deal story from ever breaking out. You’re getting the proper representation, but still feel like you don’t have a say in this. 

(But like you realized earlier: you’re not the only one, remember? You’re content that there’s at least one more person, other than yourself, who can share your hidden levels of pent up frustration - and she’s sitting right across from you.) 

And even with the substantial profile, the aristocracy between these men and women wearing designer suits and pretty dresses, it still fills your mind with unease that there’s this tug-of-war, a dispute over control. You’ve got your own life to seize, and you definitely know that better than anyone else here sitting in this room with you. 

But the press will love this, Giselle’s parents are explaining, but you and Giselle both have your tongues tied to the top of your throats - publicists and others managing your loose ends jotting down notes to make sure nothing is left unkempt. Giselle sits on the opposite end of the table, in between her parents mirrored to your format. She’s emitting this sense of tiredness, laid back and disconnected, like she was dragged to be here. Her eyes make contact with yours before darting away to a corner up on the ceiling or towards the window, while you twiddle your fingers in circles. The sigh that leaves your lips only exemplifies the boredom evermore. 

“Is there a problem here?” Giselle's mother asks, laced with a tinge of annoyance - almost like you’re taking this as a complete joke, for what it’s worth. “I’d like to remind you of the fact that you and our daughter are the sole reason that there hasn’t been any motion moved forward with this plan in the first place.” 

This is where one of your core flaws come to light: the absolute sense of unbotheredness that you bear in your demeanor. It’s not that you’re far-removed from things that you have no control over, it’s the notion that when it does get out of your hands, there isn’t really any effort coming from you to do something about it. 

Your gaze returns to Giselle, who looks at you dead in the eyes, slightly pressed and on edge. She’s telling you with her irises that she would rather break that window five feet away from you, take a leap of faith, but instead she remains sitting still - looking over to her mother again who’s clearly unimpressed with your present attitude. 

“Not at all,” you answer, a wave of the hand to double down on the sly smirk spread across your face, “I just hope that we’re not here for long so that I can agree to your terms and sign the damn contract. Is that not what we’re here for?” 

Giselle’s father looks over to his wife, the people around the room also exchanging murmurs as to what just occurred. Your parents are also aren’t willing to even look at you for a second, shifting their attention to a hand or random page on the docket, discreetly sighing before your mother puts a hand on your shoulder to dial it back. Please, she’s telling you. Don’t make this any harder than it already is for us. 

But Giselle’s mother stifles a laugh, one filled with languor and regalness as she turns her cheek the other way to hide her visible amusement. To be fair, she’s not the one that’s getting shoved into the deep end playing a cover up story; she’s got other things to divert her focus on, no worries filling up her head because she knows the endgame already. You’ve dealt with people like her before - to no avail, putting up with their tangents of how people in a lower step than them can’t really see eye to eye with those who are in the upper realms of society. 

You’re wondering too, if Giselle is like that - god forbid if that’s the case, but only time will tell. 

“Alright,” Giselle’s father says, easing the tension with a cleared throat once the laughs subside. “I don’t see why we can’t get straight to the point then: Why haven’t you signed the marriage license agreement?” 

The answer has been pretty simple and straightforward up to this point, and you gave it to them the same way you’ve always had: “I still need time to think it through.”

“Think it through?” mocks Giselle’s mother, “What’s there for you to think through? You’ll marry our daughter while our family merges into your family’s business group. While that also takes care of the other ‘incident’, you’ll also get our unwavering support going forward.”

No doubt that you’ll get the benefits and the support, but if you’re really being honest with yourself: you’re just a simple guy when dancing with the idea of love. You’d rather tie the knot with someone that you have a genuine connection with that isn’t Giselle. It might be selfish for you to think that, but it’s the truth, nonetheless. 

“It’s not that I have some sort of connection with Giselle,” you say, flipping fast to the end of the page where the blank line is still waiting to be written in ink, “I just think that it’s not fair or right for you to force us into this position; to be married, but not in love.” 

“Love? You don’t think that you could be in love with my daughter?” 

“Mrs. Uchinaga, perhaps my words weren’t as-” 

Giselle’s mother grabs her daughter’s hands, delicate and precious as if she’s encased in marble. “Play your words carefully and wisely, young man,” coy smile armed and ready to fire, “I’ll have you know that she’s got more options in the list to choose other than you. I really hope you reconsider.” 

“If I sign this contract, will you be satisfied for us to submit to your archaic idea?” 

The question drops out of thin air, with silence filling up the room again. Giselle’s parents just stare in awe while you have the pen in your hand, putting your name down in cursive across separate documents. Your mother looks over your arm while your father raises his palm up to the ceiling, a smirk at the corner of his lip with an eyebrow raised. He’s probably saying, see? I told you guys that he’ll come around. Now we can discuss the other matters that need to be taken care of.

You exhale as the pen hits the desk. A relief of unnecessary stress lifted off your shoulders while Giselle and her parents look at you in genuine surprise. 

“Okay,” you sigh, scanning everyone’s faces on the opposite end of the conference table. “Do you mind if I get some fresh air while you guys sort out the rest of the deal?” 

–

Had it been any other meeting that you attended, you’d power yourself through and stay inside to discuss the final details and clauses, but your parents and Giselle’s parents both agreed that you could stand outside on the balcony while they shackle both of your names down to the legally binding contracts. 

A ‘cathartic’ experience could also be one word to describe the thirty to forty-five minutes sitting in that room, hand quick to the pocket of your pants where your nearly cleaned out pack of cigarettes were. There were more ideal ways to relieve your stress that doesn’t involve in deteriorating your overall health, but your ears close in on the rough click of the lighter- 

“Didn’t know that you were the smoking type of person.” 

That moment right there. That’s what gets your attention; right when you least expect it and with your guard down. 

At the turn of the head, there’s this flash of these bright, heavenly, light coffee brown locks. Her jewelry is also another point of interest, illuminating and highlighting the points in her neck and wrists where the sunlight will bounce right off of them. It’s like watching a firework pop up from two feet away, blinding you with this sort of simple elegance that compliments her cool, balmy expression. 

“Do you normally come out here during the day on your breaks?” She asks, approaching closer to you while you’re indulging the rolled up piece of small paper captured between your teeth. “I mean, your parents aren’t exactly responsible for you but-”

“It’s already a bad first impression right off the bat. I know,” you tell Giselle, handing over your half-burnt cigarette, to which she takes from you as a surprise when she turns her profile out to the skyline and huffs out the smoky curls trailing from her lips. “Though, who’s gonna judge what you and I do in our spare time?” 

“You have a fair point,” says Giselle, wrist slacked as she watches the embers at the end glow in a fading orange, “Can’t keep troublemakers like us in one place. And I still can’t believe that I had to be at this stupid meeting anyway. Like-” 

“I mean, what did you think was gonna happen?” you ask, scoffing as you lean the side of your body to the paned glass on the balcony, “I’m curious to hear your side of the story.” 

Giselle brings the cigarette to her pouty lips again. You watch as her eyelids flutter shut when she hollows her cheeks slightly for the inhale, tilt her head down a bit over the balcony where she has the streets of the city in her view. Her side profile is flawless, to say the least, until you notice a small string of hickey’s blooming on the bridge of her collarbone - it’s a mental note to keep to yourself - also not your place to ask, but you can assess early on what kind of girl she is. 

The exhale she lets out is exaggerated, then the stream of smoke follows through soon after. 

“Nothing but complete bullshit, if you ask me.” She answers, tapping the ends off the edge while examining, “What about you? Since it looks like you’re the one who’s holding the end of the deal for God knows why.” 

She’s right in that regard, and you’re not denying it. 

“Among other things, I just didn’t show up. And neither did you.” The hand behind your head softens the guilt - but not by much. 

“What’s your point?”

“Well, I just had a different vision of it in my head, of how all of this would play out.”

–

The remaining details and clauses along with the marriage are finally set, with a schedule also talked about once you and Giselle head back inside. 

But there’s nothing really significant that gets mentioned regarding who will be responsible for what, and the fact that you and her aren’t even giving a single fragment of attention to your parents, solidifies that. 

“The job’s simple as it is, isn’t it?” You’re rolling your eyes while asking, “All we have to do is just pose like a married couple and look pretty?” 

Giselle snorts, gratefully falling into the mere folly of the idea. “Didn’t think we’d be in this position, but I’m behind it.” 

–

Here’s the thing about the whole idea, anyway. It never goes according to the original plan. 

It’s out of your hands though, and it’s neither yours or Giselle’s fault to put the blame on the aspect of control and logistics:

“Mrs. Uchinaga. What can I do for you?” you greet Giselle’s mother at the desk of your secretary, interrupting their super-important gossip session in the opening hours of the usual workday. “I wasn’t expecting you to be back so soon, let alone have an opening for you in my schedule-”

“I’m just dropping by, don’t worry,” reassures Giselle’s mother, holding the button of her coat when you stop your bearings right in front of her and Winter. “I was just leaving, but not to inform you about your appointment.”

“Appointment? For what, exactly?” 

“Your marriage in court.” Giselle’s mother sighs, with a flash of your eyes towards Winter, who looked completely out of the loop as well with the sudden news being dropped like a fresh bomb in water. “I had the date moved up because of some personal reasons, which I hope you don’t mind. Giselle was supposed to tell you, but I caught her out late at night, so here I am.” 

“But-” 

“I’ve left the note with your secretary,” she continues, beginning to depart from the desk. “It’s not a good look for you to be late to your own wedding now, is it?” 

You only get the last flashes of her flowing hair as she reaches the other end of the walkway, mind still processing everything that just happened in the last minute or so. Turning to Winter, “Did you know about this? Or did she just-” 

“I’m just as shocked as you.” Winter responds, an outreached hand with a simple note in her fingers, taking it and opening up the contents which confirms your suspicions. She then leans forward with the tilt of her head, “Am I invited to your ceremony? Hm?” 

“I don’t need to answer that.” You tell Winter, crumpling up the court order redecorated into an invitation. “Just clear my schedule for lunch. I’ll be having it with Giselle today.”

“Hitting it off right from the jump, are we?” 

“I’m gonna fire you if you don’t shut up.” 

–

You’re hoping that this would be the first and only time you’d ever set a foot inside a courthouse. 

Luckily, it isn’t too busy for anyone to really notice as to why you’re here. Just fulfilling your civic duties as a law-abiding citizen as a plausible reason; with the company of your family, your soon-to-be wife, and along with her family, everything about today might go well for you - keep wiping the sweaty palm along your slacks, you’ll do great, just trust me. 

Right when the ceremony is about to start, your father walks up to you, doing some last minute checks along your outfit; patting down and fixing any loose crinkle or slant along your suit, goes a bit too tight on the necktie, making you pull the collar a bit so that you could breathe. 

“Do you have any idea what you’ve thrown me into?” You ask your father, watching him get one good look at you before nodding in content. 

“You know the story well enough, kid,” he answers, and you smirk at the subtle appreciation of honesty that your father has for himself. The no-nonsense type of deal, giving it to you straight - it’s how he made you the way you are, and you’re thankful for that. “I know that you can hold your own, so be proud.” 

He gives a thumbs up from his seat as the doors open at the end of the room, welcoming Giselle. Her dress was simple, a floral pattern scattered across the cloth that radiated in this off-white tone, hugging every curve of her body (and her legs are just- okay, really? At a time like this?) as she finally reached the makeshift archway. 

She locks eyes with you, light makeup and everything. Everything that’s framed on her face just leaks out perfection, it’s captivating. From the tilt of her lips, to how her long lashes bat towards you, the tilt of her chin when she slightly looks up to compensate for the height difference. It isn’t so bad after all: realizing how Giselle Uchinaga leaves quite the apprehension  on you, all five-five of her to be exact. 

“You look good,” you tell her in lieu of a hello, palms up to where her hands meet in the middle, taking yours as the small crowd of various family and team members take their seats, letting you two take the stage from this point on. 

“Why thank you,” says Giselle, hiding the small blush breaking through cheeks as her fingers cling onto yours, voice gentle as you’re smiling along with her too. “I didn’t have time to prepare, so-” 

“I didn’t have time either, so that makes us even.” 

Giselle giggles a bit, holding herself back with a turn of her head near the wall. You decide you like that about her, but she pulls her composure back once the officiant finally gets the procession going. Everything that’s done in a wedding ceremony, regardless if it’s traditional or in court, it just ends up with endless words being stretched out for miles and miles, preaching about the joy of unity between two people. The idea alone is a beautiful tale to tell, but when it comes to the whole experience itself, it doesn't really translate the same way. 

You remember upon arriving that Giselle was going to be the first in saying the vows. Not that you were complaining, of course, mostly because you were gazing into the universe hidden behind her eyes to not even hear your name from the officiant, but she answers I do, which doesn’t cause a hitch at all. 

And what feels like forever, finally turns to the moment that everyone in the room was waiting for:

“Do you take Giselle Uchinaga to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The officiant asks. 

“I do.” 

Here is where you’re having second thoughts - for just a brief moment, not too long - how Giselle’s eyes know exactly what your worry was in that instant, telling you that it’s okay. It’ll be something that gets talked about after, no doubt a good laugh to come out of it, but if you’re gonna jump down into this sort of new hell, it’s a relief that Giselle is the one to jump down with you. 

A close of the book: “You may kiss the bride.” The officiant says, and you do. 

The angle where you take your mouth into hers is something worth swooning over. A proper lock where you’re tugging Giselle’s bottom lip slightly, slipping a bit of your tongue into her mouth that makes her grip on the back of your neck a bit tighter. She helps along with a raise of her leg with your hand, leaning her back until she presses a fingernail down into your skin, signifying a pause, returning back to the roaring cheers and applause from your inner circle watching from the seats. 

You pull her back while her hands are loosely corralled to your collarbones, taking a note of how her perfect lips mesh with yours, how small her waist fits into your arms, nicking your forehead into hers, eliciting a laugh while looking left towards your parents. 

“Hopefully I wasn’t a terrible kisser,” you mumble, parting a wisp of hair away from Giselle’s eye. “That was good, right?” 

Giselle blinks again a few more times, watching your finger treat her cheekbone. “A bit of an impromptu, but we can practice that more if you want.” 

You’re not opposed to the proposition already. 

–

Another perk, or incentive - a benefit if you will, comes in the form of your living situation from your family estate to a proper loft settled into the heart of downtown. This also means that the commute to work won’t be much of a hassle - and you can most definitely dabble with the suggestion of sleeping in a little bit more, since you are your own boss, duh. 

Just when you think that the issue of how your personal belongings would be moved over to the new place, your parents and Giselle’s had already taken the liberty of sorting that out for you two. The only thing that’s the main priority now is filling up the fridge with some of the essential goods from the market, along with some of the utensils, all in one trip up the complex. 

“Do you think-” you’re huffing, fixing your grip on the paper bags brandished across your forearm, looking over as Giselle fiddles with the keypad of the lock, inputting the wrong passcode for the second time now, “-you can open a little bit faster? My arm is killing me.” 

“Shut your whining,” Giselle replies back, getting the passcode right and swinging the door open, welcoming you and her into the relatively new space that you’ve only had for five or six days since the court wedding. Life moves a bit fast, but you’ll have a laugh to yourself when everything gets settled. “There, just set the bags down on the counter, I’ll sort them once we take a breather.” 

The city lights shimmer in the open paned windows past the living area, given the fact that the clock on the wall adjacent to the glass tells you that it’s 8 pm, and taken into account of the two boxes brought in by your mom which had some of the last few things from your room - which you’ll get to later once the shoes are off and not on the walnut flooring. 

“So,” Giselle’s beginning to say, the paper ruffling on the marble of the counter, “Just so that we’re clear again, we’re-

“Living in our separate rooms, like you requested.” You answer, circling around the kitchen island as Giselle hops up on the countertop, dangling her legs while she treats herself with a bowl full of grapes. “When we have guests over, we’ll use your room as the shared one.” 

“Cool.” She happily bobs her head, popping a grape between her lips before sucking it in the second after. “And it’s not because my room is the bigger one.” 

“Of course not,” you say, assessing the open space again before you fish another grape for yourself. 

“Before we do our own things,” she starts again, fingers in her handbag, taking out a small box encased in leather. You could already tell what it is from the crimson shade protecting the contents inside - it could be anything inside you think, let the mind imagine all of the wonderful possibilities with the intention as a gift. “My mom wanted us to have this, for added insurance.” 

When she opens the box, it reveals a silver pair of couples rings. The rigid pattern molded across the metal in two different sizes - had that not been obvious enough for who’s going to wear them. 

You pull Giselle’s ring out first, take her left ring finger, and nestle that where it belongs. She does the same for your finger, watching as her eyes concentrate on her fingers grazing across the knuckle as she twists the ring a bit in place, to add some security in the placement. 

“Looks cute,” you assess, matching your left hand with Giselle’s, watching the ring shimmer below the overhanging light. “Didn’t think your mom would be good with jewelry, but I hold my doubts back.” 

Giselle stifles a chuckle, hitting your shoulder while hunching over, tapping your arm again before sitting upright. Her hair curtains a little more than half of your neck, a quick whiff of that oceanic scent from her body wash; but she pulls just a bit to where she has this glow emitting in her wicked smile. It’s almost worth falling for - the domesticity - you’ve got your keepsakes and Giselle’s got hers, in spaces big and small where it feels like they belong. There’s also that luck of moving things fast (maybe too fast, you’re also realizing, but given the circumstance, it’s for good reason) and the telltale of it all is something literally ripped out in multiple pages of a book. You and Giselle will occupy this space for as long as you need to, and who knows what that trail might lead to - it’ll be a bridge to cross once you get to it. 

“Gotta have the appearance before you act the part,” tuts Giselle, letting her left wrist go slack, lightly resting her chin on the top of her hand. “We’ve checked off one box already, but for the other?” 

“So you're saying that we should practice that more?” 

“If you’re willing, then yes.” 

It’s something you’re not willing to fight against, the way the balls of your feet elevate your heels off the floor, tilting your head and to the side when your lips lightly press against Giselle’s. She tastes sweet, how gentle she is when her hands wrap around your neck, pulling you, eyelashes fluttering in this twitching motion when you move up, deeper into her mouth, not ever wanting to part from them in the first place, but you yield for now. 

Giselle pulls herself away, fingertips lightly gripping on the felt of your cardigan, exhaling as you lick your lips, savoring the sense a bit longer. “How was that?” she asks, your hands resting to the sides of her thighs, “You still feel uncomfortable?” 

“That’s not exactly the word I would use,” you remark, but you might be falling apart already. 

–

Not long after the last meeting with the families - give it about two or three weeks, maybe more - you’re not entirely sure at this point, the announcement regarding the arranged marriage set between you and Giselle gets out into the open world. Confirming the supposed relationship while also steering the rumors about the fraud case between both of your families away from the spotlight, just as they wanted. 

The impressions and engagements from the various article posts say a bunch of good things in high regard between you two. Most of the comments you’re seeing and hearing are raving all over you and your new fiancė, claiming that there’s a lot to be expected in how your appearance in the public will change overall going forward. 

You’ve got yourself involved with various testimonials and meet-and-greets, preaching about the value of success, with the occasional questionnaire at the end of every one of them. Some people ask about you, which you have no issue answering. While others ask about your love life (for fanservice, you assume, and something that makes all the girls crazy), to which you share your praises about Giselle; spewing all the good parts about her while holding yourself back from spilling too much, forcing a gushy expression to sell the act, but everyone adores it apparently. 

(You never forget to give thanks for how people can be swayed into falsely believing anything that they read on paper or on their phones. A tragedy in itself, but when you’re high up on the pyramid of society- 

“If only they knew the truth,” you’re telling her over the phone in the car, shaking your head at the tinted window after noticing all the people who came to the event - waving and screaming as you’re being escorted off the premises, seeing a picture on your phone of yourself hiding your face when they put a picture of Giselle on the big screen, scoffing as you get a closer look at it. 

“Just be glad that they’re loving the news.” Giselle tells you, softly laughing on her end. “Because that shows proof that the whole idea of us is working.” 

You’re probably wondering how long you can keep this facade up with her as the car continues to roll away.) 

–

“I have a thing for you,” Winter declares in another way of saying ‘good morning’, looking up with a small scowl to her face as you closely approach her desk, “Your tie is also crooked, so unprofessional.” 

“Wow, thanks for noticing, Captain Obvious,” you reply, “I was just about to fix it.” 

“It’s called an observation, genius,” retorts Winter, twisting her chair left towards you resting your elbows on the desk, “Rough night?” 

“I guess you could say.” 

Winter chuckles, types a few words on the keyboard, hits enter. “Do I really want to know?” 

“You don’t.” 

“That I can accept. And oh- by the way, Giselle actually dropped by just ten minutes ago,” she adds on, placing an envelope next to your arm. “I think that’s the event happening tomorrow night.” 

“What event?” 

“Some party that both her and your parents are putting together. I don’t know, I’m just the messenger here.” 

You rip the seal open and flip up half of the paper, which turns out to be an invite - or notice - for the obligatory gathering. Meeting with the extended family past the in-laws, all together for one big dinner and mixer. The preliminary plan right off the bat was to stay and indulge a bit, get acquainted with some of the other figures that Giselle is familiar with, then eventually leave the place and never come back for the rest of the night.

(Part of you wants to tear up the paper and bolt straight to the nearest window.) 

–

“Our car’s already outside the lobby,” Giselle tells you the next day, a simple black gown with an opening to the side where some of her leg sticks out. “And I also have your watch if you’re still looking for it.” The bluntness is already enough as it continues to add in her paradigms of sayings. 

“I’ve been ready,” you muse, stopping short by Giselle as she treats a hand to the collar of your shirt, you yourself patting down the jacket until she steps away; the blinking doesn’t stop however - seeing the prettiest features of her face up close. From those sly eyes, feathery lashes, even the dead expression shifts something in your composure. 

She hands you back your watch which clicks around your wrist in no time. You raise it up after with your ring in view - it’s Checkov’s gun, a necessary tool for the appearance, a staple in the new look. Not to mention that it shines well along with the fanciness of your appearance and Giselle’s when she puts her hand up to match. “Look at us, hm?” 

“Ready for some madness?” you ask, elbow out for her to hook. “I already want to leave.”

“Leave as in leave our place or leave from the party?” 

Giselle gives you this look of genuine concern, causing you to look away with flared nostrils and a smirk painted across your lips. 

“I was hoping that you’d get the joke,” you sigh looking down, and open the front door on the way out. 

–

Once the sunset disappears into the horizon and the shroud of nightfall takes its place, you’re fighting every single urge in your body to look at the hands of your watch - strategizing the proper time frame to sweep Giselle from whatever conversation she’s got herself into with people that look like they’ve got enough money to hideaway on an island for the rest of their lives, a big circle in the sense of community, but also a really small bubble. 

Anyway, 

The rundown of the current party for you right now: everything’s relatively tame with the people that you’ve been talking to. Some of which you haven’t seen since grad school. You get pats on the shoulder, get a glass raised for your biggest score that you’ve ever hit in your life marrying Giselle. While you’ve got the feel-pretty-good face while nursing a mojito down, because you deserve it, it’s been a long week as it is. 

So you talk - and keep talking, get some more drinks (but just enough for your own alcohol tolerance), grab a few bites from the provided food thanks to the insane catering service brought in by your parents. A few members of the press got inside access to this event, with the agreement that nothing was to be overshared. Aside from all the bright lights and nicely fitted outfits everyone’s got going on across the pad, it’s almost like they’re a part of the group too. 

Word gets round the different pods of groups; your name getting bounced around with Giselle’s, but a lean of the ear and a side eye is all you give them. You’d assume that it’s in good faith, cocking your head back over to see Giselle at a bar on the other side - upper body leaned over the counter, sharing a laugh with someone, but her body language tells a different tale entirely. 

It’s something not worth thinking twice the way your feet move at their own volition. 

A closer look the more you maintain your heading: she’s got a hand stacked to his arm, the angle her body is facing appears to show more cleavage, leaning over to stick the round part of her ass some more, the wistful gaze she’s giving this person also puts a dirty look on your face. She’s gone way too far. 

“Hey,” you greet, nose buried into her hair before you pull yourself back, giving the guy a quick look then back at Giselle. “Everything okay?” 

Giselle nods, “Just conversing. Sorry.” She’s got her hand over yours, showing the glint of the rings towards the guy, and he gets the hint - walking away with a string of apologies spilling out of his mouth. “What the hell was that for?” 

“I think we can take this discussion inside.” you say, and you grab her hand instinctively. 

–

Aside from the liveliness happening right outside the doors, you’re sheltering yourself away deeper and deeper into the walls of this massive estate. Just down a few steps, into the hallway. You don’t even live here, not anymore at least. But anywhere far away until the crowd noise and music is nearly diminished. Giselle gets rid of your grip on her wrist, and the faint vibrations of the bass match with your heart, between your ears.

Her guard is slightly up, and she didn’t even have that much to drink: 

“Wanna tell me what the fuck was your problem back up there?” Giselle asks, backpedaling away until her posterior taps the wall. The overhanging dim light in the hall makes her smaller. “I didn’t even do anything wrong, I swear.” 

“You think?” 

“No!” She softly exclaims, letting her shoulders drop while she racks her head about. “I couldn’t stand being with those girls earlier when we walked in, talking about all of my-” Her breath gets trapped between her lips, frozen still, as if she completely lost her train of thought right then and there.

“Your problems?” 

She winces a bit, as if the word was a rough tear on an old wound. “Yes.” 

“You could’ve,” you’re trying to say, stepping closer with a hand to the side of her head, looking up to the staircase where there’s an influx of laughter at the top steps, “Said something earlier, to me.”

The next revelation that follows hits you right on the nail, to the top of your head.

“I wanted to come to you.” 

It’s a sinking ship; a capsize happening in full effect.

“So why didn’t you?”

In the low highlights of fluorescent purple mixed with darkness, you meet her eyes when they shine every few seconds. A thought is there, you can tell from her gaze alone. But this was just a part to play; you remember suddenly too, why was this going to be an instance where you’re worked up over nothing? 

Deafening silence builds between the space of your bodies. A momentary time to reflect. 

“I just didn’t,” is all she answers with, and her eyes go wide, hand to your tie, fiddling away. “I should’ve, but-” 

“You didn’t.” 

It could’ve been anyone else to be with her. It could’ve been someone other than you standing where you are right now. But you’re holding your breath, endlessly wondering why if at all- 

“I’m glad that you did anyway.” 

Everything gets thrown off the table when you have Giselle’s face in your hands, kissing away to your heart’s content. You ask questions later; the only thing that matters now is how you’re bruising up her face with yours, press into her lips, her cheeks, her nose, tilt her chin up with one wrist meshed into the wall, she’s twisting and tensing, returning the pressure and indirectly asking for more, her grip is getting greedy, greedier. 

You’ve got a hold, and she’s got one on you. Her arms corral you, her leg hiked up by your hand, running upwards on her thigh. A small pocket forms between your lips and hers, and she inhales, nearly floating on air. 

(This is a litmus test, a dry run, an improv - you don’t know how far the limit is but this is essentially a leap of faith. How far can you fall from grace in the short span of time spent with someone like her?) 

But you hold back; not in nervousness, no, though her lidded eyes are in view while your breath weighs heavy. She’s not entirely sure what she’s doing, what she’s feeling. You’re also in the same boat as her; a finger to her jaw, her bottom lip, a potential claim waiting to be traced by you. It’s only natural for your hands to shift their way down to her hips, anchoring her in place with the wall, twisting her body as she patches a hot kiss to your cheek, the line of your chin, whimpering mindlessly as her dress rumples up between your fingertips- 

“Watch yourself,” you mumble in her lips, get a quick hiccup out that makes her giggle - catching her open mouth again to keep her quiet, the hands also aren’t helping when they sift down lower to her ass, a grasp where she accepts it wholeheartedly, nodding away like yes, this is good, love it when you touch me like this, I know you want more. 

The shared stumbles you and her take scaffold into this gentle slope, hobbling down the walkway as she figuratively and literally can’t keep her hands off of you, keeping herself close to where any second apart would pretty much kill her. An arm from you keeps her in check while the other is searching for an opening, a passage, a temporary asylum where you and her can harbor for a bit, away from the noise.

“Come on,” Giselle grits, her breath shaky and stuttery. “Don’t keep me waiting. I swear to fucking god. Don’t you dare make me wait.” 

That ups the ante a bit, kissing as it’s the equivalent to drinking water. You and her are shuffling down the hallway, playing a little lottery game of opening doors that lead to somewhere safe, and a stroke of luck strikes after two or three attempts. It's a bit murky with all the alcohol in your system, but the tolerance is still there. 

“What do you want?” you ask, the line coming off as a mere mutter when you take the space broadened by the tilt of her neck upwards, a lick as she burrows herself into your collarbone, seething at the teeth. “Tell me. Please, I’ll do it. I promise. Anything you want.” 

“You,” she says, biting the sensitive skin of your throat that only makes the grasp of her waist even tighter. “I just want you. Nothing more.” 

Giselle pleads, and she begs. Even when her back is against the closed door of one of the guest rooms. You’re not worried if someone will come looking for you. This shouldn’t take long, but it should also last forever. 

“I’ll treat you right,” you tell her, and it’s an act you’ll double down on. She knows how good you’ve been. You can see it in the way her body relaxes, letting you have free reign for as long as she lets you. Even as you’re kissing her again, her hand’s already quick on the gun, bringing it down to her hiked dress, past lace she’s hidden under your nose cast aside for your fingers to dip down into her slick, and her mouth goes slack suddenly, spreading her apart, chest fluttering to the peak. “That’s my job, isn’t it?” 

You can feel her, yeah. There’s no point in denying, if at all. 

“-s’more than that, remember?” she barely spits, voice tethered, and the gratitude she has in the way her hand is literally a death grip on yours, inching your digits as far as you could take them; it also doesn’t help how your thumb it lightly pressed into her clit, and she just falters on the wall, completely fucked out in tandem with some of the drinks too. “God, I can’t believe-” 

You let her have this: the way that she’s fucking herself onto your fingers, the yelp of pain into a sound of relief when your teeth mold into her skin along the line of her collarbone and neck. She’s got a little bit more of her dress higher now, watching her eyes go from sweet - to something more primal, the want infecting every inch of her body and mind as she shakes herself down again. In a split-second, you’ve got her on the nearby vanity, leaning down to keep her quiet with your mouth, a handful of her dress in one of your hands; she’s shutting her legs together with a hand stuck, fingers fully covered in her slippery cunt, yelping out loud to the point where the palm has to come in play as another muzzle, her eyes are welling up in tears and her cheeks are in this perfect rose shade, pumping your fingertips well past her breaking point. A part of you gets worried, but the soothing smacks of your lips across her exposed chest and marked up neck serve as an act of amnesty for her poor body, and she’s still asking for more. 

“Shh,” you whisper in comfort, and Giselle calms down for just a bit - but she stills every muscle and bone in her body when you find that one spot that drops her whole mouth wide open, holding her breath right in her chest and throat. “You’re doing so good for me, baby. I bet it feels amazing: having you like this.” 

She bears no answer to your merciless teasing, and the only thing that you’re fixed on is the feeling of her sopping pussy stretching out around your fingers. You almost laugh at how her hips slightly buckle upwards, and the irregular breathing as she looks down to witness the damage. 

“Please, please, please,” says Giselle. “You know what I want right now. Don’t fucking-” 

You’re reminded again at how well she can leave quite the impression. A bit unbelievable that all five-five of her small fame set on the vanity still functions properly after you’ve fucked the daylights out of her for the time being: her hands quick to undo the belt buckle and button and zipper, palming your cock that sends all synapses and impulses towards one action, and the both of you know that it’s something that you need. Her dress gets removed off little by little and- 

She wasn’t wearing a fucking bra underneath that dress. You’ll come back to that later. 

The jacket goes, then the collared shirt gets unbuttoned. Giselle’s got her legs spread out wide along with her folds, a thick tip as the first point of contact, throbbing at how the fucking clamp gets you off guard, sliding more into the proper groove. Giselle eyes lose focus, fluttering shut with a delayed movement to them, blinking. Her cunt embracing you fully, warm and inviting; it’s a lifeline, a burning one, you’ve got yourself buried deep where breaking her down comes a lot more easier. 

Her cries get through your ear canals, muttering nonsense even when you’ve got your lips on her again to shut her up. Fuck, she’s telling you, and you’ve got half the frame of mind to be with her on that. 

“Holy s-” you huff, no point in stopping now, “Yeah, okay, you-you’re so, fuck.” 

And when you do reach the base, sheathe yourself right at the hilt, this could be a culmination long awaited, but it’s right here, in this moment, where no one else is watching - let alone noticing where you two have gone, the strokes pick up a bit with Giselle’s breath in these staccatos with the thrusts you’re giving her, her head hits the mirror a bit, and a heel falls onto the floor. 

“Fuck,” she groans again. “So-so fucking deep, ugh-” 

“Oh you fucking know it,” you mutter again at the fine line of her throat, leaving another claim to the row of marks blossoming, unsure if this was what she wanted (but in truth, it’s exactly what it is.) “Relax baby, I know. Just be good for me, that’s all you have to do.” 

She begs again. A quick please that gets silence with another harsh snap of your hips into her. You’ll take her. Tear her apart until the crimson is visible everywhere on her body. She’s got a hand to a singular tit, the rebound of these endless ripples on her hips and into the curves of her body. Looking at her will do damage to your brain, and listening was already bad enough as it is - the hisses, her moans, the praises showering you at how well your cock carves into her volcanic cunt- 

You’re pulling yourself into this sort of flow state, kind of like zeroing in on a singular thing. Nothing else really mattered what was happening past this door, or what you’re thinking of doing come the next day. Giselle’s creaming cunt keeps you focused as she reaches out to lean your body forward again, lips forcing you to stay the course. As if the mere possibility of getting lost with her body was almost a one-hundred percent certainty. 

“Christ,” says Giselle, back sliding down onto the counter as your fingers find a new hold into the crease where her hips and thighs meet, yanking her back as you meet her in the middle driving forward. It sends a shock up her spine, along with a forced yelp from her lips, gasping soon after you groan while steadying yourself again back into the consistent rhythm you’ve built. “So good, so-so good.” 

“Wanted me to knock some sense into you huh?” You’re grinning as Giselle’s eyes roll back, borderline sobbing; the fucking too much to bear that she’ll give you an earful about it once all of this is done. But when her eyes look up it’s an expression that’ll be something worthy of a taunt or pretense for the next time: determination, and you might be done for. Her glint in those watered-brown eyes of hers are filled with satisfaction as they disappear underneath the eyelid again. “Was that the problem all along? What other issues do you fucking have as baggage, hm?”

“Not your business right now,” she shrieks a bit when your cock carves a bit deeper into her. “Jesus,” her ankle gets taut around the small of your back, pussy clamping hard around your cock, pausing your strokes in line with the heavy breathing. “It’s just- your cock, I can’t bel- ugh, it’s too- mmm, god.” 

When you’ve got her past the edge, it’s a beautiful sight to see, watching her orgasm front and center. It’s in the rolled back eyes, the bright flush of pink spread across her face. 

“There we go, Gis,” you say to her as her walls respond to the bodily reflex of your cock twitching inside of her. “Good girl, breathe for me. You naughty little-” 

She grabs onto your hand while her teeth hold themselves captive in her mouth, muscles along her waist tensing until she leaks out a clear yell, “Fuck, fuck, fuck you, fuck your mouth, your fucking co- God, I hate how good you are at this, it’s infuri-” 

You muffle her with the necktie, and a pinch of her clit while your cock bottoms out in her momentarily sedates the screaming. 

“Too fucking loud,” you spit, watching her whimper away with the article trapped on top of her mouth: “Is my cock not enough for you to shut up?” 

She couldn’t give any care for the questions - granted that they are rhetorical. But her pussy is still unbelievably tight around your cock still. She’s got some of her lower back rolled up, the slick spread across your hips and onto the vanity counter as well. Her heat is already addicting enough to where you only want more. 

“Please, honey. Please keep going,” her voice is close to a siren’s call, laced with the begging, but your hands are a little faster than your mind, pulling her into you again, leaning down for another desperate kiss. You take and give, and you’ll let her have it. She’s gonna feel the soreness come tomorrow morning when you’ve carried her up the stairs and into her bed, watch her cling onto your arm or waist or the nape of your neck; get the grip of her in your fingers to a point where you’re pressing down so fucking hard that she’s gonna need a massage gun to better service her hands when she’s rubbing those hard-earned and sorry bruises across her hip bones and legs. A selfish thought consumes your brain; long-manifested from watching her at a distance with someone else that isn’t you- 

“You’re mine,” you grit, biting into her skin. You simply can’t stop. “You’re all mine, oh god, baby, just-” 

There’s really no other explanation to put in: filling her pussy endlessly as the back of her head hits the mirror, letting the clench of her walls around your shaft hold so tight to the point where you’ve got your fingers holding you true; in that dripping mess that keeps on leaking - hooking on one of her folds where she’s twitching again. Her entire body goes slack, a firm slap of her hand on the counter as her back arches upwards while you flinch at the pocket of air created in her cunt. 

“No one else,” she says with a bit of a hitch, a winced noise followed by the crinkle across the bridge of her eyebrows, “you’ve always wondered why.” It’s a spontaneous confession, she’s too unsure if it’s her talking or the alcohol. “It’s just you.” 

You get a bit sloppy with the snaps, fix her legs up to where the balls of her feet are pointing up to the ceiling - you kiss her calf and ankle, toss her other heel in a dark corner of the room. No surprise that you’re unsure too about the toss, but it’s worth going with the flow. 

“Don’t do this to me,” you’re telling her, pleading, the sigh leaving your lips is almost pathetic. You’ve got your fingers right at her underboob, the dress rolled up to her waist where you hold yourself down with every motion, watching her uncovered tits ripple on the upstroke, putting your cock deep into her to the point she might go slack in her body. She gasps, an exhale of relief - and you could feel the meat of her calf tense along your shoulder; pressing her legs closer together - to wrap her around your cock tight. Tighter. The weight of your is unbearable for her as her back flushes across the table- 

You get one good thrust in her again. Bottoming out, watching her keen at the thickness of it. Hold her there for a bit, listening to her steady stream of dry air, reveling in the slight throb your cock pulsates inside her cunt; you needed to take a quick breather, it’ll be too much if you get ahead of yourself- 

She doesn’t seem to bother about your quick desire to stop, saying: “Go,” and, “Move for me.” Fucking hell, this front of her is going to be a nuisance. Her eyes roll back forward with the slimmest smile, slowly, cautiously- 

“Do you always fuck your girls like this? Or am I just the lucky one who gets to see you this way?” 

The grasp to her neck proves to be the sufficient answer you could give her. 

Let alone the sound of the harsh crack of your hips slamming into the underside of her thighs. 

“Oh god- baby, yes.” Even when her throat is wrapped around your fingers, the noise she makes and the words mold all around your digits. “Just like that.” 

Another drag out of her wetness, and the pin drop inside her is a lot more forceful than the last. You’re pretty sure you could pick up the slight squelch her pussy makes around your cock. 

“Jesus.” You’re saying, the simplicity alone is enough to not elaborate any further. “Giselle, your cunt, my goodness.”

Giselle nods, plummeting your mind deeper into her madness. 

It won’t be any long now for her drink in the sight of you filling her up, your body bent over forward and buried between her tits, unwilling to look up at her small grin of satisfaction. And even when you do, just out of curiosity, she whimpers again once you’ve decided that the pace needed to be upped a bit faster; feel her quivering cunt collapsing around the length, watch her eyes go wide, match her parted lips and groans in the same volume as you hold her down - right where she belongs. A small intermission. A pause - spreading her wider, closing in the space between her legs again with your hips, and you pick up right where you left off into fucking her. 

You’re being pulled in close again, a mandatory kiss where Giselle’s got her fingers into the line of your neck, slipping your tongue into the corner of your mouth. She laughs through her nose when you brush the tip of yours across her cheek, let her feel the crease in your eyebrows that gets tangled with her platinum shade hairs. Her lips taste like this mix of cider, with some additional drinks that she’s had in the past hour and a half or so, tongue licking away of all the sweat and slick spread across, hips moving on their own accord as you’re rebounding her back after every thrust. 

“You feel so good.” That’s an admission that you’ll come back to every given time, slipping inside of Giselle’s pussy so easily. Consuming you. Safe to say that you’ve had your fair share of sexual experiences and escapades up till this point - some of which are more worthy of remembering than others, but for some reason this time is different, and you’re not so entirely sure as to why. “This fucking- ugh, your pussy is amazing.” 

“Uh huh.” She simply nods, grazing her lips across your cheek and lips, lost in the movements, her throat bobbing down a swallow. Your grip loosens up a bit, tenderly, slowly dragging your cock out of her well-fucked pussy and watching the small slings of her slick form on her thighs and your hips. Her whole appearance is a battlefield personified: clean porcelain now tattered and stained with marks in a darker, rosy shade, her lipstick smeared at the corners, the fringes in her hair falling forward - curtaining her forehead just a bit, the glint in her eyes still shining in all of its glory, hiding behind her heavy eyelids in every languid blink as she rests her head on the mirror again for what might be the last time. “You’re-you’re gonna, you’re gonna make fucking cum.”

The reflexive clamp she has on your throbbing cock, brings you back to reality, drawing yourself back and pummeling deep into her creaming hole as you see the first hints of white splotches resting at the base when you coax the rhythm for a few seconds. It’s in the devil’s details, watching Giselle fall apart again right before your eyes, hands grasping and letting go bundles of your shirt as she spreads her legs even wider, holding her right at the divot of her hips and top of her legs; swollen pink pussy folds well wrapped around your shaft. She’s like a nice bundle of rope: unraveled, tattered, used. 

“You’re getting so close,” she assesses, a teasing finger along the firm muscle of your stomach, clutching onto your shirt after. “I can feel you shaking.” 

“Fuck-” 

It comes in a shudder, when you’ve finally reached that high apex you’ve been working towards with her body, her cunt, her lips - sliding out of her with a hand fast around your shaft, fingers slipping a bit across the length as you leak out hot cum all over her hips. She’s gritting her teeth when you press her leg up a bit too high, the stretch of muscle a little bit too much as she’s shuddering at the feeling of your thick load hitting her flushed pink yet porcelain skin. A sigh of relief leaves her lips, loving everything about it; a bit shocked as you continue to pump out of your hand. 

“Holy shit,” she mumbles, humming as her chest heaves in a decreasing pace, coming down, “You really just- wow, what a fucking mess you’ve made. Dirty boy.” 

You pay half-attention to the taunt, doing everything in your power to lower your heart rate back to normal. The grip you have on your cock is a bit too tight, slapping the head on her clit, gets a soft ‘ah’ out of her, then she coos; grateful, satisfied. 

“Can’t call me that with all the shit you said just now,” you tell her, thumb to her cheek, her bottom lip. She gives in so easily, a small peek into the neverending black hole she possesses with that look on her face, especially in her eyes, the way that your thumb slips into those plush lips of hers, sucking greedily, like she wants more out of you. The way the plane of her tongue brushes across the pad, how her cheeks hollow and suck as if it were your cock - oh, about that, that’s already a can of worms you’ll open up and uncover as a practicing theory, what will become of her after tonight - the different possibilities opening up as her eyelids flutter at your loving touch; the way she leans- 

“Mmm,” she gives you, and her doe eyes give you this expression of neediness, the sparkles of lust still apparent in them, her tongue swirling as you try to fight the urge of catching your teeth with your bottom lip, wanting to do something about her slutty attitude. And the idea pops up in your head more quickly than expected. 

Your hand retreats from her face, trails down to those perky breasts of hers, her sweaty abs, a quick hook onto the top of her thighs to pull her closer to you as she tries to sit up. Giselle laughs a bit as your cock lightly taps her pussy lips, making her suddenly tense up at the contact, humming after as she watches two of your fingers scoop up some of the filthy mess you’ve left all over her waist, rub it between your tips like it’s some sort of substance that’s unfamiliar, tap it against her lips as she opens up her mouth, following along to what you’re doing. She can be like this, which might be a good thing, and you’ll treat herself to the reward. 

It’s in the way her cheeks flush again in the low light of the vanity. Your fingers in her mouth, holding, rubbing, cleaning off the sticky mess between your digits. Those plump, half open lips, you could see a bit of your cum on her tongue. 

“Swallow,” you’re telling her, mind still trying to process the sight of her licking your load in between your fingers and knuckles. “All of it, Giselle. Swallow it all.” 

She doesn’t say anything else after that, just being obedient to what you demanded of her to do. 

Part of this feels right, but then at the same time it doesn’t. 

Your hand trails the same pathway down, only this time stopping right at the side of her left breast, staying there. She offers up a hand for you to take, sitting her upright, lets her knees hang off the edge as you’re standing in between the pair of them still, stroking her thighs while you smother yourself back into her chest. This could be a moment of realization or regret, or that could just be your own mind playing the game of worrying too much over something that’s too little to be that big of a deal. 

Giselle licks her lips, offers them to you, which you take - kissing her again. You could feel her jaw clench when you pull her by the side of her face, tongue slipping unconsciously back into her mouth, pressing and clashing with hers, inhaling the sweet stench of sex emitting from her body and yours too. 

“You’re a mess,” she whispers, leaving a few strings of kisses across the lower half or your cheek, winces a bit when you pinch the side of her waist a bit too tightly, soreness still present. “How long have you been wanting to do that to me, mm?” 

“Think we could save that for another time?” And you just happily play along to what she’s inquiring, voice low and inviting. “I’d rather worry about getting out of here first.” 

You give Giselle a bit of space for her to rearrange her dress a bit, looking over your shoulder for that discarded heel in one of the dark corners; hand quick to her waist to lick and clean up the leaking mess while you swipe a piece of the bedsheets nearby to wipe down the mess on your waist and all over her cunt- 

“Lend me your jacket.” She asks politely, finally standing up with a bit of a wobble in her legs. “It did get a little bit chilly when we walked on the way in.” 

–

You see, nobody bats an eye or raises a brow in suspicion when you’ve managed to leave your family estate in record time. 

As for those who did take notice, you simply told them that going home early was always the plan in the end. The valet who took care of your car at the front foyer also gave a look to you holding the door for Giselle; well, he could easily tell judging at the way your jacket was on her - heels in your hand as he could only assume one thing and one thing only. Kudos to him for keeping it on the low, in addition to the considerable tip you handed before driving away. 

“Should’ve left a whole lot sooner,” she tells you, a bit of a harsh press on the brakes when you then stop at a t-junction. 

She’s got the seat almost all the way back, her legs bunched up with your jacket now covering her front, fiddling with a finger between her lips as you alternate glances from her and the intersection. “That’s what I told you before we walked in earlier.” 

To be fair, it isn’t your fault in the first place. All honesty aside, it was nice to spend some quality time with some old friends, play catchup and all. You could’ve stayed as long as you would’ve liked, stayed over for the night and just go back to your new home the next morning. Giselle would’ve been on board with the idea had you told her, but instead she had other things to set in motion. 

“It’s events like these,” she breathes, “They’re always boring. So boring. It’s been that way with me since I was little.” The jacket falls a little below the shoulders, exposing her clavicles, and runs a hand over them as if she was doing some heavy lifting. Doesn’t help that her hair falls along with the piece, showing more of her pale, yet marked up neck. 

“We’ve always crossed paths,” you say, slowly steering the car left and down the road. “I mean- I was literally with you at your birthday party, so of course I can relate to what you’re feeling.” 

She looks left, then down at your hand resting on the gear shift, remembering the not-so-distant memory. “Yeah, I guess you can.” 

“Hm?” 

“Nobody else was appealing, when my parents were searching for someone that could be best suited to be my ‘husband’. All of the other considerable candidates never really made a case to be a worthy suitor in this absolute shitstorm.” 

“Don’t you know it?” 

Giselle chuckles again, the bright glow of the arrow signs reflecting off of the headlights, then fading away into the eventual darkness. Most of the ride has been filled with silence, with the low growl of the tires rolling against the pavement and the constant ambient whirring that the engine was emitting. 

“So why me?” you ask, darting your eyes back from Giselle onto the road. “You could’ve gone with anyone else, but why choose me?” 

“It was a simple decision,” she answers, shifting her body to the side with the seat belt loosening as you move through a few sequences of winding turns. “Most people aren’t very easy going when they warm up to me; but since I’ve known you for quite a bit, I thought it would feel just as natural since we’ve had that sort of-”

“Connection, huh?” you chuckle, putting the car in a lower gear when you reach a decline on the road. You give another look at her face shimmered in yellow, low eyelids and slightly parted lips as you and her examine each other’s features, nodding in agreement when nothing else is said. 

Giselle then moves your hand over to her exposed thigh, letting it rest there as your thumb runs across the plush surface. 

“I want another,” she says, clasping your hand on her leg, nails slightly digging into the skin of your wrist. 

You snort in response, almost thrown off at the sudden request. “What do you mean, another?” 

“You should know exactly what I mean.” 

“I’m not entirely sure I’m following you on this.” 

“Do you want me to put it in a way that makes you understand?” She asks, her voice teetering into a small smile, the blatant innuendo splayed across her face. The grip of your wrist in her hand grows a bit stiff, and yours holds steady on the underside of her thigh. 

“How do you suppose that’ll go?” you ask, sliding your hand up into her more. “I can pick up on things pretty fast.”

“Pull the car over and I’ll give you the explanation.”

–

(Like you needed the necessary explanation. 

All it took was a hand to your hardening crotch beneath your pants and before you know it, you’ve got the car off to the side of the road, not exactly secluded and discreet about the way that she’s bent over on the side of the car, hot breath fogging up the metal across the hood as she’s got other things to worry about in your cock filling her up again. Her dress is already back up to her waist as your slacks are slipping off the rim of your thighs. There’s also the occasional presence of some crickets sheltered away in the patches of grass, the slaps of your hips fucking into Giselle’s, turning your head in reflex when you hear an audible snap somewhere in the darkness - probably a fallen branch, or something like that. 

It’s a bit hard to keep yourself composed when she’s cumming all over your cock again. 

Her body goes limp, a hand is splayed on the headlight. You’re holding her by the breast, cream-slicked cock slipping inside her once more, ripping her open. She can’t even look back over her shoulder, the strained noises coming out of her keeps on filling your ears, throwing her lower half back into yours to make the blowback just as brutal. Every passing second underneath your pressure, she crumbles - well-worked and carnally raw. 

“-s’deep. Fucking- bitch. Oh, darling - ah” 

Your hands hold firm at her waist, driving in, watching as her ass perform this hypnotic ripple against your legs. She loves this, adores the fun of having a rough-fuck; unwilling to get enough of your cock sliding through her throbbing nerves when your shaft makes contact along the slick surface. The motion itself gets you lost endlessly, cupping her ass, pressing and grasping at the supple skin, leaning over when her back arches a bit, getting your face buried in the back of her head, flushing your hips into hers like it’s some long lost art piece. Like you realized just moments ago: she just can’t get enough, and neither can you. “Giselle,” you’re breathing, soft and gentle. She hushes you, lets the sopping wetness of her pussy speak for itself, grinding an angle at the hilt that makes your breath hitch.

Every plea, utterance, and worry that’s said after her exaggerated gasps when your cock slows its drag inside her walls, the declining rubs inside her cunt make her body convulse. 

“You’re the fucking worst,” you tell her, and she nods with a smirk at the corner of her lip - an admission. 

“Sounds just like me.” she says, all fucked out and gratified.) 

–

The weekend passes, and the weekday rolls around again to take its place. 

On most days, it’s a rinse and repeat: walk in, settle some deals, make some calls, sit through these boring ass meetings, toss the post-it notes stuck on your monitor by Winter in the trash can before your occasional smoke break, treat yourself to the catered lunch provided for the team members by the company. It’s relatively tame for the most part, and Giselle pops in the building every now and then in her family’s stead, making sure that the transition period in the merging process is going as smoothly as possible. 

“She looks like she’s in good spirits,” Winter tells you when she sees you and Giselle wave goodbye to each other one afternoon outside your office, pen tapping on her pursed lips as you stop at the corner of her desk. “I’m surprised that she’s doing some work for her parents around here as well. Didn’t expect that.” 

“Keeping me in check,” you say, closely observing the curve of her ass peeking around the fabric of her dress as it goes out of view past the corner and near the elevators. “It’s a transactional thing: ensuring that I’m doing my job just as much as she’s doing hers.” 

“So, is it clicking between the two of you?” Winter asks, not even facing you. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I guess I meant that you’re holding up well after the whole arrangement?” Winter adds on, turning again fully invested, “Being forced into an arranged marriage. A loveless marriage would be a better term to coin it.” 

“Well,” you try to answer, but your train of thought gets lost in your own head. “I feel like it’s a little bit out of convenience - letting my parents take advantage of a huge part of my life that I wanted to have control over. But we’re willing to make it work, I think.” 

“Huh?” 

“We have history, Winter.” The shake of your head makes your secretary laugh a bit, almost baffled at the declaration. “Who knows what happens from here on out. Besides, I might have a change of heart at some point, so have some hope.” 

“If you’re happy, then I’m happy,” says Winter, tapping your hand resting on the railing of the cubicle. “You’ve got the ring on your finger to prove it, partially, but I’ll always love and support you in whatever you do with her.” 

You wave a hand at her as you move away from her desk, a bit annoyed - still smiling. 

“Do you wanna grab lunch with us whenever she drops by the floor again?” you ask, walking back to the open door of your office. “Offer stands on the table for the time being.” 

Winter muses. Me? Third-wheeling? Pfft- low blow, boss. The mutter could be heard under your low chuckle. She raises a fist up in the air to celebrate, hides it away when you tell her to get back to work. 

–

Giselle sends you a text two hours later in between breaks: Pick me up? 

You’ve got roughly until five until you could clock out, but this report needs to be sent to your father before you leave. I could make a detour before we get some food later, but yeah. I can make that happen. 

A smiling emoji. She sends. A bit vague, but you could tell that she’s ditzy on her end of the phone screen. 

Almost done? 

Some last minute submissions. 

Nice. 

Dinner somewhere? 

You ask, you buy. 

What about after? 

I’ll pay you back when we get home. 

(No point in asking how, she knows exactly how to go about that.) 

–

It takes about one missed call followed up with a few more rings at the second time calling to the return, but Giselle answers with a whole-hearted laugh on her end. 

“Sorry,” she greets after saying hello, “There’s been a change of plans. I’ll see you at home. Someone came to see me on my way out of the office and-” 

There’s another laugh in the background. Sounds familiar, nearly cat-like and sly. A clear contrast to the gleaming tone Giselle has, radiating like the glare of the sun bouncing off the overhanging windows from the neighboring towers across the three-building campus.

“Darn,” you say, “And here I was actually getting excited to come see you.” 

“We can move it to tomorrow, I should probably have you meet-” then the phone picks up a little shuffle of handlers, Giselle complaining a bit and suddenly, another feminine voice takes over the call - Sorry not sorry for stealing your girl. She’s been putting me off, but now she’s on my time. Hope you don’t mind. 

“Wait,” you’re telling her again, confused, “Who’s your little girlfriend? She sounds cute as well.” 

“You’ll see soon,” says Giselle, a bit airy. “A real dazzler, she’s absolutely perfect, a fucking bitch, but the complete package.” You’re thinking twice when there’s an audible smack of a pair of lips on her neck that makes her mewl on the microphone. 

You’re rolling your eyes as you nestle in the backseat of the car, and say, “better play nice. I’ll see you later,” and then you end the call. 

–

But you never really figure out this mystery woman is, who poached your wife right outside her office building. At least you’re thankful for the wonderful gentleman on Giselle’s detail bringing her back - in one piece, despite the disheveled appearance from the smeared lipstick to the waves of messy hair that would need to be tended to on her own terms. So, uh. You’ll ask for the debrief sometime in the morning. 

–

Coffee grounds are getting brewed, and nothing fills up the apartment more than some homey jazz softly blasting from the speakers on the record player. 

It’s an exceptionally slow kind of morning: the kind where you look at the alarm of your phone screen and just toss it off to the nightstand while muttering to yourself to stay in bed for five more minutes, and to be fair, maybe for the rest of the day. 

While you’re waiting for the food on the cast iron to cool down, you indulge yourself to an article that covered a past press event that had you and Giselle both in attendance. Granted that it was one of her close friend’s fashion line releases in the form of a pop-up event Giselle insisted that you’d tag along just for the testy thrill. To get out of the office and breathe a little bit. C’mon, it’ll be fun. 

There’s a thread of pictures you scroll by on your tablet of you and her taking in the moment of presentation; people absolutely losing their shit just by being and breathing the same air as you and her, nothing short of the love well received for the two of you. It’s seen in the details: you look up to the four levels above of people cheering both of your names, the next slide looking outward to a distant camera capturing the image. A few more following images show you laying your eyes on Giselle, from the embracing smile, her hand up in bright surprise, with another still showing her returning the same look she always does earnestly. But what the people don’t realize is that just before this showing, you and her had a small heated argument in the elevator minutes before stepping on stage; she came out of it clean while you’re the one with damage control - fixing up your collar and smearing some of the lipstick left on the single corner of your lip. The confused beam on your face sells the whole thing entirely. 

The feed’s comments are still raving and fawning about this whole pairing, too. And it seems that isn’t going away anytime soon; even when the most liked comment says: “i bet they smile at each other when they fuck. God they’re so hot.” 

<“you think their parents high-five each other whenever they see them together?”>

The list goes on, and one says: <“it’s still unbelievable that they’re actually together and omg i just can’t get over them!”>

Various comments are just filled with exclamation points and lovely emojis. 

Another person also says a few swipes down: <“doesn’t seem convincing to me. almost as if they’re just showing for the title/label rather than out of genuine affection.”>

<“you’re right. also, where tf are their wedding pics?”>

See? It’s worth the subtle nod and the raise of impressive eyebrows to know that not everyone is fully onboard with the whole situation. You think, people can’t be easily swayed by what the media portrays, considering the fact that any shrivel of credibility is either legit or nothing but smoke. 

Giselle then walks in from the hallway; encased in a linen robe, messy bedhead and with a lazy yawn. “You’re up early.”

“It’s almost ten.” You tell her. “I’m getting a late start to the morning.” 

“Busy day?” asks Giselle, one eye open still when she rounds the kitchen island, puts her cheek against your shoulder, looking over to see your daily spontaneous read. “I was supposed to see someone later today.” 

“Is it ‘your dazzler’ date from last night?” you address, towering over the top of Giselle’s head when she leans into you to see the assorted breakfast. “Looks to me like you had a little too much fun with her.” 

“Not your business,” she replies, stealing a blueberry from your stack of pancakes. Not the ideal response from her - especially since she’s usually open and practically blunt with sharing bits of her life and adventures. “I saw those comments on that article you were looking at from our outing a while back and let me tell you: they’re right.” 

“You think?” 

“I know.” Her answer alone should serve all the truth as to what things are between you and her. The label of ‘husband and wife’ isn’t all extravagant fireworks and worth pulling the aged wines to swirl big glasses around over - let alone fooling nearly every person that follows your daily life into one big, misleading lie. When she settles into the high chair with a knee up, her sweater that isn’t exactly her’s and you know it, her pensive expression is far ahead of your thought process already. 

“Do you think this whole marriage is out of convenience?” 

She looks at you clearly baffled, eyes wide. “I- well, I was gonna ask you the same thing. What do you think?” 

“I think your thoughts are more important than mine at the moment.” 

Giselle leans forward with an elbow on the table, chin dipping low and heavy. “There’s something for our parents to gain from this. Some cover up; more money, more pull - blah blah blah blah blah. I think they just wanted us to get involved in some way, they’ve had the idea of us being set up since we were teenagers. The picture is one big fucking mess to me.” 

“Well if you look at the comments, then-” 

“We’ve already commensurated on that note, don’t you forget.” Giselle smirks, a faint fingertip tracing the inner part of her bottom lip. “A marriage out of convenience could also mean that we’re sex partners out of convenience. You’re not slick for ogling at me either, but what are you gonna do?” 

“I’m gonna head to work,” you say with the shake of your head, “We can have a chat about this later.” 

Giselle looks at you in a firm victory; the corner of her lip quirks when you pass by her while clearing your throat, avoiding her question for the time being. 

–

Yet the question bounces around your mind all day while in the office later, trailing off in spaced daydreams of all the things Giselle as you sit at your desk. 

(She has completely fucked you up.) 

–

You’d expect for an easy walk-in past the door once the long day’s already passed. Nothing too exhausting: a few business calls here, an outing with a client from your father’s agenda, and just staying chained to your office chair for a majority of the time isn’t very grand, but it’s the usual work flow. 

But to your surprise, somebody’s already made themselves at home. 

A quick dig into the heels of your loafers next to the pair of heels and you settle your bearings towards the living room - lights on and everything, safe to assume that Giselle’s only been here for no longer than a few minutes (hinted by handbag resting on one of the high-rising seats next to the kitchen island). Exhaustion fills up your mind, weighed down by the assortment of your keys and watch in hand, which you toss into the designated bowl signifying your arrival and growing presence that gives off this small echo down the hallways (since you also know that Giselle likes to keep her door propped open for better airflow). 

Entering to your right, you hear: “Hey, home already?” She meets you in the middle as you stop short before the couch, turning to see Giselle in her casual one piece dress, half of her hair present as she combs it down with her fingers, blinking dutifully. “I thought you’d be back later.” 

“Well yeah. But I figured that I could use some of the downtime now,” you’re saying, fishing a pen out of your pocket, then your phone; both of which get tossed to the center portion of the furniture. You unbutton your cufflinks with a tilt in your head as Giselle slips out of her cropped coat, “I don’t have anything for the rest of the evening.” 

“Really,” she replies, and the prose isn’t necessarily a question nor proposition when she says that single word - hands already working to the zipper on the back of her attire. “I was hoping that you did.” 

The first few buttons on your shirt start to part, and Giselle carries forward out of her dress, the black lace underneath presented to you in all of its glory. 

“And what would you do with your alone time had I not come home at all?” you ask, closing the distance between you and her. “I suppose you would’ve had another problem on your lap for me to deal with.” 

“You still have to answer my question from this morning.” 

When she gets both hands deep into the space of your collarbones, hopping up from the floor as you catch the underside of her thighs, holding her in place at the hip when you lightly press her into the nearby pillar of your foyer, it’s a bit laughable in your head as to how easy it is for her to fall into this sense of rhythm - much like a waltz even, lips fast to yours with the dirtiest and most insatiable smile she could ever pull on you. These habits, her issues, the livelihood that she lives by, it’s a tattering case to your own personal code in which you have no complaint or refute to bring up- 

“Sex partners out of convenience?” You say to her as she’s left breathless under your pressing touch, warm mouth and hands claiming familiar territory. “Now what makes you think that’s the overall gist of what we’re doing here?” 

Giselle raises an eyebrow, hides away as she leans down to kiss you again, wanting to let her current appearance and actions do the talking for her. She plays you like it’s some game; pushing your buttons in all the ways that she knows and likes - for you to treat her like an exploit and an advantage to get her point across. And maybe you realize again: that’s all that she’s ever good for. 

You run a finger through the fabric of her panties: “Baby, you’re soaking wet.” 

“Now you’re talking about my kind of discussion.” 

–

With that said discussion, there’s a few laws of honesty drawn up in your head: 

The first law: it’s the rush of dopamine to blame when you have Giselle’s slick soak your face and fingertips - how she groans and writhes into the mattress as your tongue licks up the mess left out of her cunt; the shade goes to a hotter pink as she grinds her hips against you, eyes opening wide and fluttering shut, clenching in the same way her teeth scrape together. Another implication could be seen in the way that your hands hold firm on her plush, thick, marked up ass; how she let you have control as you turn her head and bend her limbs in all the ways to get you off, hushing out these profane sayings and words to her as you work up to her second orgasm - or third (who’s really keeping track at this point, huh?) You like it when she asks to take a breather, have you walk away for a bit before she gets in this pouty fit, a mood that needs to be sated in cumming again, choke her moans out on the couch for a change of scenery. When she reluctantly admits - as three of your fingers slide into her tightness while your other hand is to the small of her back and your head is at the side of her face, buried in her hair and keeping her arched up, digging deeper. 

The second law: you wouldn’t have to do anything to Giselle and she’d immediately pick up on what you want, the way her eyes would tell you to ‘just come fuck me already, you know you want to’ and the sheer glint beneath her irises sparkle a bit more when you’re teasing the clit as you settle into the seat. 

“Y’know, I always wondered what your other fuckbuddies would think: if they saw you with me and how I’m handling you,” you start to say, eyes focusing and unfocusing in the valley of her breasts - red lines visible along the pale skin as your fingers slip along her thighs a bit - still covered in Giselle’s juices. 

“Hmm,” she sighs out, lowering herself onto your lap and the hitch of breath apparent as she expected for you to get right down to business; but you’re not, and clearly that’s driving her up the wall. Listless words whispered out with little to no meaning. It’s in the wet blanket of her pussy, the stickiness dragging a torrid heat all over your bare cock. 

“Too bad they don’t have that kind of luxury anymore.” you continue on your senseless rambling. “Considering that I’m the lucky one now, which to be honest, is kind of one of the best things I have against you.” 

“What are you even saying?” Giselle questions, losing her train of thought with a good thrust upward, letting her grind down on your hips; holding her down at the top of her thighs as her hands find their place around the crook of your neck. “Just because I let my past flirts use me as- as some fucktoy? You have that as the idea against one of my many points of leverage, baby. God, you-” 

“I get what they mean, if that’s what you’re selling,” you assume. 

She swears. 

“Imagine that, Giselle - with a body like yours, only used to be fucked. Sounds like a pretty damn good deal to me.” 

She elevates her hips for a slight second, hovering over your cockhead. The first few inches following your tip dips up into her cunt, the drenched, most prettiest pair of lips. You tilt your head back - watch the reaction on her face when you dial it back - the twitch in her shoulders and neck muscles as if she already was at that high again, the look on her face in nothing but positives and unbounded; and somewhere in her cerebral cortex, she should know that the moment you thrust up, she’d be a goner - that’s the effect your cock has on her, how she’d mindlessly fuck herself into using it, every opportunity presents a new suggestion, the intent of making her into a messy puddle of mush, a blithering wreck. 

And it’s a form of entertainment in itself when the propositions are thrown up. In a rough write-up in paper and in the sketchbook in your head, the way that she looks in bed: her glistening pussy, dripping, and in a fucked-out mess. You keep dragging your cock through her swollen folds, stagnant, lethargic. You press on with the inquiries - asking, taunting - they’re never meant to be taken literally: “don’t you know that you can think of better ways to convince someone about something without putting your body and attitude to the equation?” 

Her eyes open carefully, her grin tilts a bit, cheeks blushing, and the voice carrying the lump of air past her mouth gets winded: “wouldn’t have the slightest idea, honey.” 

You could feel the warmth growing from her forearms as it nestled over your shoulders, fingers twitching for a proper hold, the press up of her thumbs raises your head to look up at her. She also tossed the idea to you when she visited your office earlier this week, the tempting proposition of just fucking her right then and there across your desk. 

(It didn’t help in the way she presented it too: 

“What would your other team members think?” she probes, the shiniest twinkle in her doe-eyes with the falsest naivety, “Hearing me getting fucked by you with the door wide open? Raise my skirt up for the easiest access you could ever have. Leave a few lipstick prints over your shirt so that everyone knows who you belong to?” 

Blindsided or not, it sends a few synapses in your brain firing.) 

So you’re playing the hard way, a clear contrast to how things unfolded last time, honestly - watching her do this little wiggle over your lap, eyes brimming with light. Her hips, and the little gut-punch movement of her stomach are slow, then pick up suddenly a second later, searching for something close to a rest but coming up empty. Your head dips back a bit to the crown of the couch when the sound of her whines hold steady, breathing cautiously when she fills the open space of your chest, panting into it. 

Your grip on her waist when you bring your head forward again to kiss her left breast - catch a nipple between your teeth, nibbling, biting. 

“Ow, ah-” she blurts, a pitiful chuckle following soon after. Maybe it’s in the double jeopardy - the way she gasps from the shackled chamber of her chest in this stuttering fashion and goes a little more frantically than normal when your thick tip rubs against the outright nub of her clit. She’s sensitive, and very fucking responsive. “Wow. Jesus.” 

Giselle’s hot, pink, satin lips of her pretty, puffy little cunt, hovers right over it: dripping onto your hardened length as you dip your cockhead back in again, nearly there, the heavy weight of her sitting on your dick - but not quite yet, almost. She’s indecisive between grinding her bottom half on your cock, or getting more of your lips and fingers, could be both, anything would suffice for her. She isn’t really begging, per se, but you can just tell: all of the pretty little things that she wants, but can’t admit; the quiet please, I swear to God, why don’t you just stick it in me- or, the incoherent ‘more, baby, I can’t wait any longer, don’t make me- it’s so good - and you already know, you’ve heard it before, how badly she wants it when you let the pads of your fingertips deeper into the spots she loves and likes. 

“You would lose it, so fast,” you start, a sigh of relief into the canal of Giselle’s ear, holding the bottom of her spine steady as your cock starts to stretch the drenched walls of her cunt and let her fall slowly - you could feel the tension in her thighs, her toes curl into the cushions. The sharp, high-pitched whine sounds broken. 

She mutters a ���please’ - and it rings so prettily, too. 

“I really could let you just slide your perfect, sloppy cunt all over my cock. Be good for me. You wouldn’t even stop for a second, getting yourself off in an instant.” 

Giselle’s eyes squeeze shut, nodding profusely, lips parted. 

And in a way, christ, she could switch that look in her eyes from a flickering promise to a dwindling vortex instantaneously; the wide pupils she has that are near impossible to examine, the pretty mouth hung low a little past halfway, this magenta shade she emits and her head’s lolling. She’s getting more restless, hips moving shallow and not in the way that she wants them to. She knocks a bit of your forehead to your crown, a mix of a whimper and whisper of your name, and it’s a tempting beck and call to her.  

It’s a little overdue for dinner and she’s fucking lost it, hips grinding with yours; the smooth, practied moves of her working cunt, hard, like she means it, like the need to cum for her has to be around something in the most vile ways - her whole face and neck and chest are flushed in this new shade of color and her eyes are hidden behind her eyelids, cock grinding hot between the space of her thighs. She’s squirming - coming apart and pleasing when she’s so out of control, only reduced to her barren sense. To the feeling, the fulfillment of your fingers - or the fine, hard line of your cock dragging along her wetness and thighs, at an angle that you’ve managed to hit a few times before. 

“Just by thinking about it - it’s making you even more antsy,” you say delicately. 

Giselle just blinks. 

“You’ve managed to get me like this, using me to get yourself off whenever you fucking feel like it, right? Imagine. Anytime you just need it - in your office, in the kitchen, get a quick one out before we have a testimonial or showcase, don’t give any care for other people watching you get your pussy railed- stop, I know that look, fuck- it’s not gonna work on me.” 

“Pretty good idea, right?” Giselle sputters out, panting, because you’re working deeper into that spot, you can tell - you can feel it. Her hands are clawing on your shoulders. “Just lift up my pretty dress or skirt and make a mess of me right there.” 

“-be the problematic little bitch that everyone always talks about and has no other sensible thought because you enjoy it as it is.” 

Giselle’s cunt tightens around your cock. You’re also pretty sure that there’s a hint of her squirting. Quite a bit. Dripping and molten- 

“You-” 

“Mhm?” 

“Just- God, please. Want it - you, so fucking bad. Let me ride, I swear-” Giselle tells you, desperately - fucking sit there. She sounds so tenacious. Her hair a nice shade of brown, curtaining at the front of her cheek and a bit stuck to the side of her face. 

There’s like this sheer sense of inevitability - you can see it in the way her body gives, the imaginary cloth around her body coming down. It’s in everything, the stimulation, the teasing - then there’s nothing, a clean slate. As if someone had all her thoughts on a small piece of paper: her arms go slack, a breath wriggles out of her esophagus. Her weight, yielding and bearable, easing herself down on top of you and the heatwave of her cunt snugs around your cock so perfectly, like it was meant to be there, where it always belongs. It also wouldn’t take long for her first fully-fledged orgasm to come in the form of a mixed gasped and whine: ugh, god, thank you - like the effort couldn't have been any easier. 

Her head tilts back, and a smile slips out into something straight out of a lucid dream: falling, calling, chasing - until you realize it wasn't a dream at all. 

And she’s keeping her upper body up with her dainty fingers, pulling herself back into you as her lips drag up into yours, thrusting up, slow and controlled. You feel it as Giselle clamps down again; that throbbing, quivering sensation before that tsunami of warmth captures you. 

So you let her ride, in the way that she is. Her face is tucked to the top where your forehead and hairline meets, moaning for pretty much the entire time. “J’so fucking big, your cock inside me, fuck. I just move and it- god, it just rubs itself in every part of my pussy - yeah, okay, you did it again, so deep. Ugh. How do you do it?” Giselle sounds a bit on edge, frantic, talking complete gibberish - the heavy weight of her hips and ass presses onto your body and her nails mark up on your shoulders and sides as she keeps on riding through one orgasm onto the next, eyes rolling up to the ceiling and letting a series of sighs and slips out of her throat. These sweet, desperate, shameless cries and begs as she drops down, sucks you into her warmth. 

“Honey, honey- so thick- like that, holy shit,” her pitch lines up to the tempo of her slaps. 

“Look at that,” you mumble underneath her praises and heavy pants, the fast, jagged sounds - head nodding and shaking side to side furiously. She can’t even think straight to talk properly. “You’re so fucking wet.” 

“God yes. Fuck yes, s’good-” Giselle moans, totally unchasted and debauched. 

“And your pussy’s soaking up my cock again.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” and most of her sentences are muddled in curses, the phonemes of her sounds morphing into one. Her eyelids are dropping low again, mouth curving to a close shape of an ‘o’ as your cock drives up against every sensitive part inside her, rubbing against the velvety folds. Digging, taking more. 

Your voice comes as a hush following a groan. “Stretching out so well for me, taking it all in - isn’t that wonderful? Your needy little pussy, sliding up and down all over?” 

Giselle’s trembling picks up where it left off, the noises curdle from the bottom of her throat, low and just flat out desperate. It’s in the responsiveness of her body, every single part of her thrust into chaos. 

You could consider this to be a beneficiary: you being inside her. Giselle’s moaning out your name as she holds you close to your chest, burying your nose in between her tits like an offering, her body goes weak. She’s got her hair netted to the lines of her neck and chin; the pistoning of your cock upwards as the hinge in of her hips roll so she can cum all over your waist. 

Giselle cums just like that. Again and again, totally impenitent.

The reaction on her face is one of pure bliss, full of relaxation; where everything working between the muscles and nerves go down for a second - her lips molding into a tiny fuck, holy fuck; the small uptick of her eyebrows as the aftershocks ripple through her hot cunt. An incredible sight, this thing. 

“I guess that’s why you and I clicked so fast,” you note, a hand to the swell of her ass, the other on her hip. Every free curve of her figure invites the touch, how rough you can go, how far you could wreck her. It’s without any sense of remorse. You kiss the words right between her tits: “knowing that a special someone could ever make you feel like this, give wonders to you right where it’s needed, as if nothing else matters.” 

“Stop- shut the fuck up,” and Giselle does the worst thing here, letting her upper half fall back outward, slips a hand behind and under to where your balls are, cradling them, the slightest cup of her fingers, it tenses up your thighs and the bottom of your spine and the grip in your fingernails creates this new line of light red across her hips. 

“Gis-” you yelp on impulse, “holy shit, I-” 

The angle is too much for her as she barely manages to keep herself upright, and then, “-fucker, that’s so deep. Do it again-” 

“You’re something, baby. I can’t believe-” 

She’s got a hand to the back of your head, thumb between your lips, moving her hips upward at the hilt that makes your cock twitch inside her. The giggle passing through your ears allures you towards a primal motive, a raw uncut want. 

“Shh,” she coos. 

“You-” 

“This right here,” she says, “Could be our little secret. My little secret.” 

“Giselle-” 

“Hush, darling. And keep it that way.” 

You grind, lift her up, and smack her back down. It’s the slap. The fucking moan. Her arms coil around your neck once more. 

Taking in the makeshift taut of her waist. Growling, “fucking test me again, I dare you,” and Giselle gives nothing but an evil grin in good nature when she cups the side of your jaw to lift your gaze. 

Her head knocks into yours and she cards her fingers through your hair, tugging away as you increase the pumps a little faster, harder. She’s trying to hold herself together with what little common sense she has left; in a bit of a disbelief, she tells you, off-the-cuff in the nook of her head, how you’ve put yourself far ahead than the past guys she’s fucked around with, the simplicity in her causalness as a royal gesture in itself. 

“I guess you could say that,” you tell her, in the figures of semantics where you could take her literally. 

A way to repay that said loyalty to her, would be fucking her tight little pussy until you’re dumping your cum inside her sopping cunt or painting all over her fucking waist, her ass, her face - an art piece curated by you out of ruination that wants to be flaunted and presented like it’s something that the people want. This woman with such grandness; this idol, showcased in the fanciest dresses and bows, to be showered in diamonds, to have anything she ever wanted worth purchasing be done with a wave of her finger. 

Your cause is a bit different, lest not forget, but you’re complicit nonetheless - satisfying both parties of families to ensure that no one is left holding the bag in the event that they’re caught. But at least you can have a fill with an aching cunt between your legs, leaking all over your groin once the rush eventually dies down. Yeah, maybe you are right in this situation. “I’m the last one you’ll ever need.” 

That cuts both ways, she tells you. A wicked smile is all she gives; she’s won. 

You eventually snap, however, fucking Giselle on her hands and knees, flip her back around with her tits facing you again. You carry her back onto the pillar behind the couch for some more before moving to the bedroom, a little over a minute spent letting her reach that peak. Some fun gets thrown into the mix, pressing her front to the window as you carve your cock back up into her cunt. Your name keeps falling out of her mouth, obscene and maffled, over and over and over and over: fuck, you feel so good inside me, taking me so well, god, don’t stop, that feels so fucking good for you, doesn’t it? - she slams her ass back into you, face pressed against the glass, her breath fogging up a small portion of the pane. You take it back to the edge of her mattress where her ankles hook around your thighs and manage to dig her nails into the skin of your back. She acknowledges the small act of generosity, when you cum a little bit inside her pussy (to which you could admit that it’s one of the hottest things you can do to her, honestly), knowing that your cock fits so nice and snug into her cunt and fucks out all these dirty sounds that are some of the cutest things that she can sing out of her mouth; this little pussy messing you up as you tug yourself out of her properly-fucked cunt and leave the mess right where it stays. Where it should stay. That’s how this thing goes. 

Giselle presses a nail into your hip, another bruise along with the scratches and bite marks that’ll show up tomorrow. You’ll look at it in the mirror at work sometime, just to think back. 

Though she’s created an opportunity for herself where you have to answer whenever she’s around. No matter what the excuse may be, she’ll slither her way inside your office or at home, talk about something about the day, and you’ll try to stay on task or topic until the option to eat her out or fuck her till she can’t walk straight or maybe even both doesn’t seem too far off to pass time. 

(She’ll ask: you mind doing a favor for me? Of course you have to say yes. 

And it’s practically impossible to refuse anyway, since it’s not worth telling no when there’s advantages.) 

–

Giselle is not perfect; despite what the media presents and what the people say portraying her to be. 

She’s got a past, one of which she's not proud of. She has her shortcomings, her flaws, but she’s still human. You’ve assumed at first that there’s things about her to be accepting even with the stuff she’s got herself into. Giselle’s impetuous and a bit dense, but she’s also a strong thorn in points you hate to admit that she could have an upper hand on. 

But even so- 

Even so- 

Despite her imperfections, she’s aware of them. She’s turned them into strengths that very few people can break down without effort backed behind it. You get one good look at her and it’s simple. Her grin with closed lips is wicked and unbeatable, and now that you’re with her in this mess of a marriage you can’t find anything that’s worth swaying you to think otherwise. 

“What is it that you want from your family’s company?” she asks, her body melded one with the sheets as she lays on her stomach, feet sticking up with ankles crossed, face still fading from the hot blush of pink. “I mean, there isn’t really an incentive for us exclusively while they’re trying to make this story go away unnoticed.” 

“If I knew everything. And I mean, everything, then I’d tell you. But I don’t.” 

“So what, you don’t know what happens despite us being protected?” 

“It may look like we’re safe,” you say, looking down and out the window again, holding yourself back from rambling even further. “But it’s only a matter of time until people start sniffing around places that they’re not supposed to.” 

“They’re not gonna stop searching, hun.” Giselle presumes, “Not until they really figure out what’s going on behind the scenes. But where’s the exposure in that?” 

“What makes this whole thing dangerous is that all it took for people to find this relationship believable was a good lie and a lot of money to twist the words in the press into reality.” 

“Isn’t that a shame,” her voice trails off, head falling left to the nearby pillow resting on her arm. She keeps her eyes on you, rubbing up your shoulder from the amount of scratches and bite marks she’s left all over it, the skin still red to the touch. “Watching yourself settle as bits and pieces of your life start to wither away. No risk taken for the reward or consequence to follow. You’re so boring, but your cock, and the way that you fuck me deflates the whole argument entirely.” 

“Amazing,” you deadpan, “That’s probably one of the nicest compliments you’ve ever given to me.” 

Giselle rolls her eyes, holds back a laugh between her lips. “You’re so into me and you don’t even want to admit it. Where else would you get the ring on your finger from, hm? Let alone who?” The squint in your eyes proves that she’s winning this dispute. “Still got no answer for me, babe? Hmph. I guess you just solidified my thoughts just now.” 

“You really are the worst pick for guys like me, aren’t you?” you ask, approaching closer to the bed as your kneecaps make contact to the edge, bending them until you’re crawling across the mattress.

She has an outreached hand to you; taking, pulling, inviting. “Who said I was a bad choice for you? Someone’s got to keep your mind off the deal for the time being.” 

Before you even say anything else, you kiss her twice, and then some more. It’s a thing remotely close to yielding yourself to her - you pull the sheets from underneath her over, get your lips back on her neck again, and fuck her deep into the bed. 

Some pressure is relieved off of your shoulders and head, and you wonder if she’s the one responsible for that. 

–

Everything resumes as normal. Business stays busy, public engagements and appearances are still a regular occurrence every other day or so, and you’re ensuring that the tracks get covered up before anyone in the press starts to take notice. You’re not a bad person - and neither are your parents in this case, the needs of this cause will pay off in protecting your own life. Being a workaholic isn’t the healthiest way to go by, but in all fairness, you’re just doing your job. 

Giselle also holds her end of the bargain; while you’re married to your work, she’s married to her blessing of wealth. When you’re swamped with paperworks and projects compounded with usual check-ins with her parents and yours about the investment failure cover-up, she seeks her own adventures elsewhere: getting herself into these entanglements with other guys at high-profile events, reining them in with her flirty charms and in return gets their dick stuck up inside her. She may be terrible at keeping faith in you when she does go out with her friends, but you know that she’ll always come back to you in the end. 

“Are you sure you want to go ahead with the meeting?” Winter asks you one afternoon, sitting on the edge of your desk as she looks over one of your client’s portfolios to see if the numbers add up, “cause this does look finished, but I can set some time aside to run a final check before you send it over.” 

For some reason, and only God really knows why, but you feel this sudden chill run down your neck as Giselle makes her way past the door into your office; her stride a little more pushy today than usual, and that spells only one thing: she’s aggravated. 

“Sorry Winter, do you mind giving us the room?” she tells her, and it’s not a request. You nod your head as Winter immediately picks up on the sudden shift of tension in the air, swapping places as Giselle drops her handbag on the chair while darting a quick glance at Winter.

“The door, please. And you know what to say.” Winter closes the door on her way out while Giselle rounds the desk and settles herself into your lap. You remember her barging in when you had a meeting with one of your early acquisitions in the business, sitting in the same way that she is now for the entirety of that appointment. 

“Cancel your meeting.” Giselle commands, fingers quick to the middle of your necktie. 

“I can’t. It’s the new person my father just brought in yesterday.” 

“I wasn’t asking. You promised.” 

Her lips proved to be a suitable truth-serum to your inhibitions; and suddenly you completely forget what she was even complaining about earlier. 

–

So you make good on your promise. You had to. 

Giselle’s hand shoots up to her mouth, not doing much with the moans that leak out from the bottom of her wrist. 

“Baby,” she coos, and you draw yourself back from between her thighs to swallow a bit, drink in the sight of how her face writhes in pleasure. You hate how pretty she is when she looks like this, eyes closed elegantly and mouth dropped in pure awe. She literally had her pussy eaten out by you in the morning, but it’s clear that she can’t get enough, and you’ll definitely do it again. 

The pager on your desk starts to beep, and you don’t answer it; instead, you dip your tongue back into her leaking entrance. Her breath starts to stutter as the sides of her thighs start to press against your head. A spread of her lips between your fingers, and you slash up your tongue inside her walls again, hips bucking forward off the woodwork. 

“You taste so fucking good, honey,” you praise, holding her down with the flex of your wrists and press of your fingers. Giselle shudders a bit as you shove your nose right up against her clit, let the vibration of your hums send shockwaves up her waist from within. Her hand tangled into your hair serves all the signs of her wanting, begging for more. When you ask, and it’s just out of plain fun when you do: “Wanna cum so badly on my face, don’t you? Soak your shit into my mouth and all over my chin? Tell me what you want. You haven’t had enough cock this week, haven’t you? Fucking filthy ass slut.” 

Giselle, in the current state that she’s in, just sighs. If there’s anything that you’ve learned from all the times you’ve spent exploring her body, imploding her senses from within, she loves to be held down and fucked ruthlessly - but more than anything, she loves to be teased, to be degraded.

That stupid pager is still fucking ringing. 

But you inhale the sweet aroma of her pussy, slide your tongue up those slutty, puffy folds, stop right at the clit, and you suck. 

“Yes, yes- fuck, God yes, just like that,” she breathes out, pulling your head deeper into her cunt. She wants you to be cruel, to rip off that pencil skirt of hers, raise that dress shirt she stole from your wardrobe and put your cock inside her like she so undeservedly owes. Giselle’s eyebrows twist along with the lines of her face, squeezing your hand as she soaks more of herself onto your lips, the taste of her slick flowing down like water, lapping her up clean. 

“Close,” she tells you, breaths becoming irregular as her voice goes up in familiar, ascending octaves. “God- keep going, yes, baby, I’m g- I’m gonna-” 

You just hum, let the sweet venom of her release coat your taste buds - a delicacy that you’ll indulge in every time. You fail to let her go from your grasp, meeting her dreamy gaze, lashes gliding up and down gracefully, trying to conjure up some sort of thought. “Your cock,” she says, chest heaving. “Give it to me.” 

It’s not worth denying the demand; and besides: you were never going to make it to that meeting anyway.

–

The workflow chokes up the rest of the week so much to the point where the days and nights start to blend together. You’re doing some nightly readings midway out on the couch until Giselle walks in with a robe encasing her nice figure - dropping the piece in front of you which makes you toss the tablet off to the side. 

“A gift for you,” she says, a towel tending to her damp hair that wets the front of her shirt while you’re fixing up a quick meal of eggs on the stove, following you cumming inside of her and on her face not too long after that ends up staining her sheets. “For the race this upcoming weekend.” 

You’re paying zero attention, focused on not letting the scrambled bits stick to the pan as she slithers a hand through the open space of your hand-to-hip, stealing a bite of the waffles you also made off to the side for more variety, watch as she fills up her cheeks with the food. The simplest of actions, she does with ease. But then you say: Race? You didn’t tell me you were into cars like that. If at all. 

“Had I told you that I had a stake in a racing team, and you would’ve been instantly hard,” she deadpans, her stare flickering with a shake of her head. “Like I’ve told you before: I have my own interests.” 

“Prove it.” you taunt. 

Giselle then walks over to her handbag resting on one of the seats where she always leaves it for a quick grab of whatever, pulls out two special passes; the red lanyard with your picture and hers highlighted at the center with a barcode below it as well as the details of the event. The raise in your eyebrows indicate a hint of impressiveness and Giselle just tilts her head in victory, because she knows you’re not hard to convince. 

“F1 passes, huh?” you muse, taking the one from her hand to further examine it, “Now how in the hell did you score these?” 

“Courtesy of a friend,” replies Giselle, taking your pass back and into her handbag. “You probably know her, but if you don’t, I’d love for you to meet her.” 

“Aren’t you excited.” 

“What’s with that tone?” 

“Tone?” 

She sighs, chin lifted up as her hum rises in amusement, “It’s not like you to have my attitude suddenly, it actually fits you well.” 

“I’m always like this,” you tell her. 

“Right.” 

“I’d be happy to pitch you as to why if you’re interested.” 

“Save it,” Giselle tsks, flipping her towel forward from her shoulders. “Besides, it’s gonna be a fun weekend either way. And oh- happy birthday.” 

–

Much like other events you’ve attended in the past, this one is certainly no exception. Stepping out of the car to be greeted with endless amounts of people stretched across the barriers outside the track, screaming your name and Giselle’s to offer a variety of things to sign: a hat, a bottle, a racing jersey, and some random person’s arm; a nice gesture to show, and it’s all in good fun. 

The photo op’s are having a fucking field day with your appearance, cameras nearly floating across towards you walking to get their many mandatory snaps of the day. Hey, over here! Click! Click! Click! You and Giselle keep it casual in answering the questions also like how’s the morning going? Who do you think is gonna win the race today? Are you the special person that’s going to be waving the checkered flag or present the trophies to the top three racers later?

Click! And someone greets Giselle off to the side - probably someone running social media from one of the racing teams, you think. Her hair flows so coolly in the wind, walking in a fashion that pretty much trumps every other hot model you’ve seen at shows; the curves of her body sloping along her clothes. Her sunglasses only punctuate her cunty expression when she takes them off, earning a few gasps from other surrounding VIP members, which isn’t fair, but it serves you exactly right when her face lights up greeting the provider for your special passes. 

She smiles so effortlessly. Her energy is infectious the more she steps into the paddock. 

Everything is pretty much major brain overload, astounded at how everything is sleek inside the garage; tools hidden away in perfectly-fit drawers that literally look straight out of a sci-fi movie. The car alone is a sight to behold too; sure, the wheels aren’t on and they’re still doing some minor tweaks across the chassis, but the race engineer who bumps your shoulder puts you in a momentary conversation about how insane everything looks. 

It wasn’t long until Giselle disappears from your view, only to return with a plus-one that irks your curiosity - laughing and sounding clearly in awe and excitement. 

“I’m sure you’ve seen this charmer before,” Giselle introduces, hand tugging on your jacket so casually, pulling you closer. “Has a thing for cars, if that isn’t news to you already.” 

“Looks familiar, but never up close.” Her mouth peers into this wide grin, lips coated with a light sanguine shade, the gloss almost shimmering. Your ears perch up to the tone of her voice, a sleek and piercing characteristic to notice, considering how dangerously familiar it sounded. She’s got a racing shirt on, despite her bottoms being baggy jeans. The temperature around the track was forecasted to be hot, and she’s wearing a simple dad cap to pool those flowing locks over her shoulders. Judging from the hoops hanging from her ears, you assume that she and Giselle are in the same lineage - since they’ve got so much money deep in their pockets to afford everything and all that jazz. 

Yu Jimin takes your hand in hers, and asks something along the lines of: you’re into cars? Is this your first time in an F1 garage?

You laugh, and answer: I’ve dabbled here and there. Giselle didn’t tell me that she had a minority stake in something like this.

“She’s the one who gifted the passes,” Giselle supplies immediately, because apparently Karina should already have this as common knowledge. 

“Never got to hear you two say thanks.” She blinks and smiles. You blank out for a second. Though it’s also interesting how her face is so molded in the right angles like she’d been carved to perfection in one take. Her figure is undoubtedly amazing, with a long waist and these wide hips. It’s a bit of seeing to actual believing - where you think that all women like Giselle had similar traits. You’re still unsure, however, but maybe that’s just the simple commonality women have when they’ve either got money or a status. 

“Your wife here funds the team’s success,” Karina adds - looking over to see a handful of mechanics having a laugh about something with her racing teammate. “She’s the reason why I’m winning.” 

“That so?” You fire back with pursed lips. “Hopefully her money’s put in good use.” 

Karina laughs. “It has, believe me.” 

Giselle, in this situation at least, the last person who takes charge of calling your shots. Or reading the room. You’re just keeping it casual, though, getting acquainted with someone new like it’s nothing wrong. 

“How else could we have swayed you into signing that new deal?” Giselle presses her tongue up to the inside of her cheek - throws a side-eye at you. She’s reminiscing over a certain reference that you clearly have no idea of understanding. 

“Didn’t think the figures would be that much,” ponders Karina. 

“Need I mention you’re little ‘incident’ with the other-” 

“Are you fucking crazy? I almost got crucified with the press if that story got out.” She leans closer to Giselle with her fingers covering her mouth. Her hair moves in these calm waves - laughing like there’s no care in the world for her actions. 

So the two of them go at it a bit, trading moments and memories between them. Giselle’s attempt of pressing herself back onto your crotch serves as some sort of provocation rather than a distraction. You play it off with a hand to her midriff, pinching it slightly as a rebuttal, and a promise.  

Aside from the ice breaking topics, you look over to see Karina’s personal performance coach, notifying her of the preparations of the race ahead. She hasn’t got much time, so she leaves the both of you off with this: 

“Think I can find you guys once this race is finished?” A mechanical drill sounds off on the far end of the garage. Then, she glances in this devilish way that means she knows everything, Karina says: “I can have my guy grab you two back to the trailer.” 

“You can make that work,” Giselle answers, rolling her head into the upper profile of your chest and smiling. “We’re your special guests for the day, so I expect the best hospitality.” 

–

And, about the race later as you’re watching, Karina blows everyone else out of the competition. Her winning first place is an absolute certainty. 

–

Once the champagne showers have died down and everything logistically in the press gets recorded and logged in after another successful race weekend, it didn’t take Karina that much longer to find you and Giselle hanging around the complementary areas, prompting that the celebrations outside the track can start a little bit later. Since the party was well going to be deep into the night somewhere in the city, the three of you actually never make it there on time. 

Probably because your back to the door with a hand to the lock is preventing you from ever getting out; the two bodies of Karina and Giselle pinning you down the middle between the pair, a hand to your waist while the other is well worked around your cock. It also didn’t help that the lights were off, to give the impression that no one was inside - the worrying thought of someone knocking would suddenly be washed away when Giselle lowers her wet mouth all over you; a hand through her hair and a small shuffle of your feet as Karina smoothens your shirt, humming gleefully into your chest as the same feeling happens further down south. 

“You love her mouth so much, hm?” Karina asks, the brim of her cap hitting your nose, tilting it upward to slide her tongue back between your lips. “She’s been telling me how much her jaw aches when it comes to blowing you.” 

You try to look down, but Karina had other ideas. Ah ah ah, pretty boy. Keep your eyes only on me. If Karina’s lips were meant to spill out all of these subtle projections of sex, you’re able to deduce the fact that Giselle likes to be all talk - though she prefers to let her mouth serve a different purpose. She lets out a small gargle in her throat when her plump lips reach the base, the tip of her tongue swipes the point perpendicular where your length stems out from the root, feeling that twitch of your cock head hit the top of her mouth. All to play for when you’re losing focus, and then- 

“Karina, your hat,” you stumble in your words, watch her flip the cap back around, “Shit, baby. The door too-“

“Shhh, relax,” she coos, hand ghosting over your face, the broad line of your shoulders. She kisses you with the cap facing backward. “Bet that feels really good for you, doesn’t it?” 

“Fuck,” you barely manage. It’s a bit early for your voice to be this raked through the mud; though, the light depression of your lungs serves as an emphasis. ”She’s perfect.” 

Giselle gently laughs, slightly hollowing out her cheeks some more. Slapping her plum, bottom lip with your tip, she flashes an innocent smile, sticking her tongue out just to push your urge further. “That isn’t news for anyone,” she yields, sliding her palm up the length. “Take my other boy-toys in the past. Ask them about anything, really. They’d all say the same thing: how I keep a hidden talent for sucking dick a personal secret of mine.” Karina provides a nod and a laugh, knowing that her saying goes both ways. 

“Consider me shocked, then. You two are absolute freaks.” 

“Okay,” Karina deadpans, and her expression goes calm, a lifted eyebrow in suspicion. She gets her hand to the back of Giselle’s head, pushing her back between your legs. Giselle takes you right back into the well of her mouth and picks up right where she left off, this smooth flow - in tandem with the friction of her fingers, as her lips take in the soaked inch or two of your cock, gagging a bit, fuck. Her eyes go wide, and then they close, braces herself with her hands on your thighs, pushing herself deeper until her lips finally reach the base; the head, and the rest of your shaft, into the velvety opening of her throat, willing to hang you for as long as you or her could possibly take. 

Your palm slides down against the sliding door, and the impulsive shift of your hips forward comes as an act of desperation into that addicting rub in the big of her mouth. 

Karina doubles down her efforts, kissing up your neck, your jaw; carrying your face with her dainty finger to the right to graze the tip of her nose against yours, feeling her hot breath touch your chin as she’s telling you all the right praises of how amazing you two look. She’s got a handful of Giselle’s hair in her hand, pulling her up and driving her back in, the subtle sighs and staggered breaths that gets overpowered by Giselle’s endless gagging, hands braced to your thighs as your hips work a bit to meet in the middle of her effort. This engulfing heat, rising up from waist, much like diving feet first into a bottomless hot spring - nerves going haywire from your spine, the muscles along your lower half constantly tensing as Giselle bottoms you out again, slathering your cock in her saliva as she chokes. 

“Fuck her mouth again. I know you want to,” Karina says, pressing up her tits to the side of your chest, another lick of the end of your collarbone, it earns her another shallow ‘christ’ from you. “She’ll let you do anything,” and in a way, she isn’t wrong: “‘Cause I know that you’ll give her the promise of fucking her brains out after.” 

So, all you had to do at this point: was follow and listen.

The constant deepthroating would make anyone go mad, really; have their balls burst in a matter of minutes. Karina takes this emphatic role of judge, jury, and executioner to a whole different implication, her hands and mouth an extension of the many things you want Giselle to be ruined by, and you’ll shower her some form of thanks for that.

And when Giselle does slide you out of her mouth, a trail of spit forming around the crown, twisting her hand languidly around you as she clears her throat. Right around that time, the three of you hear a knock on the door - probably Karina’s security detail, or someone else, there’s really no point in knowing. You and Karina look at each other to hear whatever the hell the guy outside was saying, but Karina has a finger between your lips as Giselle continues where she left off, giving your brain a dilemma on what - or who - to focus on. 

“We should’ve left thirty minutes ago,” you confess - the honesty alone an antithesis to your level-headedness; a moment to reflect, at how pathetic you are - “how long are-” 

Karina giggles, a cheeky grin to add: “we gonna take? Hopefully we’ll wrap you up soon, sweetie.” 

You’re hoping to unravel in the next few minutes or so. Giselle’s mouth is not worth throwing up the curtain of ignorance, as she continues bob her head up and down the length - each knock of your cockhead to her uvula is flawless. 

Karina on the other hand, does the least merciful act she could possibly do, considering how she’s a walking devil in broad daylight: sliding her hands across your chest as she sinks down to her knees at Giselle’s level, nose buried in the cuff of her ear as she grasps her boob while the motion of her head starts to match with Giselle’s tempo of gags. She pulls back, the cap nearly falling off the top of her head, draws her hair over her ears as she settles in with those quick licks at the base where Giselle struggled to reach and well - crap. Giselle drags the tip of her tongue over your head, Karina treating the underside before meeting her lips with hers. They both giggle at the first kiss - hot air over your cock right smack in the middle of that space. Indulging a bit more with their clashing tongue, wanting to get more of a savoring taste of cock. Of you. The inner cavity of your chest broadens up, drawing in a sharp inhale, and the heat of the trailer gets a bit sweltering. Okay, you might be sweating more than usual. 

As if they’d rehearsed this before, the pair at your hips take turns with your cock, licking up the slick spit, your precum, all these wet kisses and heavy moans across the surface; they pull half of your shaft back into their mouths, drag your head to the inner part of their cheeks, slowly and gracefully taking you in, treating the areas where they’re not touched. “Mmm.” and “Hmph.” Karina is still laughing - fingers now tethered around the root of you and your balls while Giselle slacks her jaw a bit more, letting you fill the space of her throat as you’re holding yourself steady against the wall. The chinch of her shut eyes and eagerness to go past her personal threshold of taking you deep; and Karina has a hand to the back of her head, caressing her throat whispering these praises into her ear. Good girl, all the way into your throat. You know that he likes it so much. There there, keep choking on his cock - because it’s yours.

And when she does pull herself up and out, she’s coughing, eyelashes fluttering and eyes shimmering. They both look at you with their jaws hung, a small tug of a smile at the corners of their lips, tilting their heads up as you impulsively move your hips forward and back - slathering the belly of your cock with the pads of their tongues. 

“You girls look so good like that,” you barely manage to say. Their swollen and plump mouths already serve as this new vehicle of addiction. “The sluttiest kinds are always the ones where you least expect it.” 

Giselle breathes out this hearty laugh, shields her face with the back of her hand. Karina’s mouth then takes over for a bit, and you could feel her fingers start to press deeper into the skin of your thighs. “She’s a messy bitch. Believe me when I say this: she’s been dying to have a taste of you.” 

“Not true,” Karina butts in, a trail of spit forming from her bottom lip when she kisses your soaked tip. “At least, that’s what she was trying to say, when I had her stuttering in her words with my mouth and fingers all up inside her. Came on my face a bit after - she’s the one who’s more dirty than me.” 

“Didn’t you make a bet that you can make him cum faster than me?” Giselle inquires, doe eyes and with a hint of a taunt mixed in with her tone. “I could’ve sworn that you did.” 

While she asks, Karina doubles down her efforts, taking you well into the column of her throat. You’ve got a hand through her hair, gripping to a point where the need for these two girls to fuck you senseless in the trailer takes over. The sense of control and liberation courses through like a reflex - a fight or flight response - you can’t let them have their way for too long, and it’s way too early to yield from their oral assault. 

“He’ll be good for us, I’m sure.” Karina says, a bit quizzical at that too. Her hand is jerking around the base while Giselle takes the hint and slides her hand across the upper half of your shaft.  “I’m sure this isn’t his first rodeo of letting two girls drop to their knees and have a little bit of fun for themselves, right?” 

Yeah, the groan you give punctuates the point clearly: they broke you. 

It didn’t take much long after that, when the both of them have an alternating cycle of hand to mouth and mouth to hand, working you up through these harsh sucks, the fierce licks across your slit, engulfing your balls and colliding their lips - trading off stares as they could tell in the way that your legs are shaking. They see this. They feel this. All this hard work was about to be paid off soon. Your hands are reaching out in desperation - the inevitability of it, the pulses and wires in your body already at the limit, pushing your buttons with the ever-concluding contraction of your muscles- 

“Cum for us, baby,” Giselle murmurs. With her hand and Karina's wrapped true along with her desperate hums and moans across your shaft proves as the lethal combination, “all over our pretty little faces, okay? All over. Just let go and let us taste you, that’s all we want.” 

They both look up at you, the image seared into your optics: your cock is practically magma in their hands, releasing in harsh jolts and jerks, every thread of your cum landing on their foreheads and on the slopes of their cheeks - blissed out and and job done. Giselle tilts her head back while Karina’s hand finds the bottom of her chin, lapping up the mess below her lip as you press your cock in between their faces again, the sounds of satisfaction humming low in their throats, and their congratulatory kiss comes as a celebration. Your head feels dizzy, chest cavity staggering with the inhales and exhales; you’re not even sure how you’re still standing at this point-

“Fucking look at that,” Karina sneers, fingers pressing into the skin of Giselle’s cheek - the other digging down her unbuttoned pants, assessing the damage as she kisses up along the side of her face, “She’s so wet for you, like the perfect girl she is, lapping up your hot mess to make up for being the filthiest, fucking, fine whore-” 

“Mmmm- fuck,” Giselle just says, sucking harshly on your sensitive cockhead, retreating with a loud ‘pop’ as Karina scoops up the dribbles of cum on her fingertips, cleaning them up as the both of them soothe the fading ache in your thighs. 

“You guys are the worst,” you breathe, head hitting the door to the closet as you’re fighting every urge to not melt right into the floor. 

“He doesn’t mean that, right?” Karina asks, eyes pleading. 

“Don’t worry,” Giselle adds, “He owes us more when we get back home.” 

“Should we get out of here?” Karina prompts, wiggling her head back as Giselle matches the look from below. “Oh- and Giselle honey, you can’t clean yourself up.” 

“What?! That was the deal? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” Giselle asks in shock.

“It was better to see your reaction if you didn’t know; but now that you know, the forfeit still stands.” 

These two are basically asking to get themselves trending on the headlines first thing tomorrow morning. 

–

It’ll probably be ignored as you’re doing the daily checks of your meetings, reminders, or emails on your phone, but there’s a surfaced picture of you and Giselle seated together in one of the booths at the club you were initially going to. Karina managed to tag herself along despite not being on the exclusive guest list - though, she thanked Giselle for pulling some strings to get inside.

There isn’t much to recall from last night, however, aside from letting yourself unwind from the stresses and pressure of work. Karina and Giselle keep the conversation going over a few drinks - toying with the idea of leaving so that they could pick up on the fun you three did back at her trailer. A few laughs are shared here and there, you’re not so entirely sure, until you make the judgment call to leave and Karina manages to get her lips on you in the hall walking out.

“I’ve got the-” you say on your way into the bedroom when a pair of lacy panties latches onto your shoulder, looking up in confusion. “-coffee you asked for.” 

Giselle’s laying on of the mattress, head at the edge, her tits just left barren and facing up to the open air. A ruffle in the sheets next to her occurs, and the person underneath does this mix of a yawn and giggle as the typical fringe of her messy bed head rests along the front of her chest. You’ve had your fair share of having a few triad’s in your lifetime, but it’s safe to say that this current lineup takes the cake. 

“He’s cheating by the way,” Karina says, sitting upright as her breasts are revealed to you above the sheets; all marked up and tattered from last night’s fuckfest that move in this heavy and hypnotic way as she does this little wiggle with her upper body - like she’s pouting for an apology after committing a scandalous act. “Why does he get to put his underwear on?” 

“I’m not walking around the house naked,” you rebuke, “It’s just weird.” 

“But I do it all the time and he doesn’t complain,” Giselle says to her, flashing a look back at you as she watches you take a sip from her cup of coffee. “Breakfast still on the cards?” 

“What do you have in mind?” you ask, walking up to the two fine girls taking refuge in your bed. “I can go out of my way and set an arrangement.” 

Karina scoots up next to Giselle, laying in the same fashion as she’s doing, traces a line along the elastic of your boxers. Giselle bites her lip as she starts to palm the growing bulge pulsing between your legs. She asked for a cup of coffee, but it’s always better to chow down on something while she drinks; her personal preference, really. 

“I think your coffee needs a little creamer, no?” Karina proposes, testing with a swift lick on the underside of your cock, snorting soon after. 

“You’re really fucking weird,” Giselle tells her, and pulls the waistband down, springing your cock forward. “But I fucking love it” 

–

Life, in every passing day and night amongst you two, starts to make sense. Giselle at first used to do things separately: the contrast of staying in different rooms, the deliverables and press engagements of her brands and investments, keeping the scheduling consistent without any changes unless she saw fit or just by feel. Her presence was an oddity let alone a fast flurry of complications falling onto your lap. 

Now: 

There’s a growing flow of comfort between the two of you. Always has been. With all the dates and hangouts and impromptu office visits, it would be basically impossible to not get acclimated in the short span of time. She’s gone from her bed to yours, her toothbrush in the same cup on the bathroom sink, there’s far less dishes to wash meal to meal, watches you work or even get some work done herself - leading to a familiar end of the night that becomes all the regular. 

“You’re staying in tonight?” you ask, noticing a woozy Giselle bunched up in one of your shirts, leaning against your arm on the couch one late evening, a split-screen of a portfolio and the typical news articles that you have little to no care of skimming through on your laptop. “I thought you had something planned.” 

“I did,” she admits in reply; her tone is lazy, dry, sleepy. As if this was the first time in a while where her social battery was depleted to zero. 

You sigh, tilt your head over to the right side, and kiss the crown of her head. “Guess I should call it also a night, then.” 

Giselle nods, eyelids slowly falling shut as you toss your laptop off to the side, pick her up in your arms, and start to make your way to settle back into your bed - playing the role perfectly and as authentically as you could create it. 

–

Later that morning after, she plays the part so well: 

“For me?” she asks, arms well wrapped around your waist as you’re tending to the first batch of pancakes. Her nose is buried into your shirt, never wanting to let the scent of you go to waste. “You might be the best husband ever, I fear.” 

Your nose scrunches as she giggles, leaning your head down with a chaste kiss to her lips - pulling away with a hum, “Sweetie, I’d be terrified.” 

–

“Your father’s calling,” Winter tells you while hanging her head along the door frame of your office, “He’s on line one.” 

The lift of your eyebrows signifies that you got the message, and he doesn’t sound pleased when you pick up the phone saying: look, I’m all for the idea of getting all nice and cute and cozy with Giselle, but we need a little push from the both of you. I’ve got some figures in our board and investors that are catching wind of our past case. People like them aren’t easily swayed by the media, they’re smarter than that. 

You knew what you were doing when you first made the company, dad.

And I know that you’re aware of Giselle’s previous activities? Do I need to remind you of who made the file for you to look at when we first set up this whole damn thing?

(Goes without saying, she was problematic. Keyword: was.) 

What’s your point?

Don’t bullshit me with filling the blanks and details. You know. I’ve pitched you to her parents for a reason. You didn’t like the idea of sleeping with someone you aren’t familiar with; but now look at you, doing exactly that. 

Creative writing can only serve so much purpose to the public. 

All the more reason to use some money to twist a few words about you and that whore. 

Dad- 

Do the right thing, son. We’ve got you in a good position, now take advantage of it. 

–

Staring out your window serves as a second viable option partial to marooning yourself on the  balcony; taking some time aside to personally reflect on the state of your life, figure out what your next move is, etcetera etcetera. To be fair, you’ve got a good track record of not getting into trouble whatsoever. You’re clean - and sure, there’s a few hiccups here and there, but nothing too monumental to really derail your career and success. 

All of this has been public from the start, you and Giselle. Ever since you two tied the knot, it’s been nothing short of coverage for the both of you, the usual freakouts people have when they see you or her doing the usual events or activities like everyone else. It’s in the recognition, the exposure. You’d honestly hoped that carrying on with your duties in the family business would be sufficient enough to satisfy the needs of the higher ups - all the while trying to keep what’s going on in the inner circle a secret. 

Too bad that secret isn’t nicely kept under wraps, and you’re aware of this; you understand so much of the extent because there’s everything to lose since the microscope is so close. Even when you’ve parted Giselle’s legs and slid your hands up the sides of her waist, it’s the beauty in that risk - like the suggestion was already guaranteed from the start. 

“What’d I tell you?” Giselle says to you, lounging on your couch in the office, rucking down her dress and combing her slightly tattered hair to the front, her toes in the pantyhose curled and spread soon after, the portion of the clothing at her inner thighs are torn through, looking out the window to see if anyone had noticed (but they heard it all already,) “They gave us a hand to play.” 

“And you want us to play their game? It’s basically letting them call the shots if you ask me.” 

“Hey,” she leans back to the head of the couch, lounges her legs a bit further out, “That’s my line.” 

You scowl at her as she looks down with a subtle lip bite. 

–

So there’s two incidents that follow: 

The first one was out on a regular nightclub outing. Of all places, you let Giselle get the best of you in the bathroom stall, keeping your cock warm inside her as she’s itching for the filthy feeling at your hips. Doesn’t help the fact that other guys were coming in the restroom at a regular pace, not paying any sort of attention to the indecency they’re witnessing. They all look at you for a second, identify your face, and shake their head soon after. 

“You two really couldn’t help each other to get a room, huh?” Someone asks, but you don’t bother answering other than a nod. He then turns his head to face the wall as he’s relieving himself with the urinal. 

–

The second time, unsurprisingly, happens at work. Giselle was the first one out of the printing room, a stray hand trailing behind her with one of the associates in your team, with you following behind them. Some of the worker’s eyes fall between one of you three, and when you’re settling around Winter’s desk: 

“Did you and Giselle just-” 

“Winter,” you sigh, fixing the knot of your tie. “Just don’t.” 

–

But there’s also the third time, where she calls you out of the blue when your father’s in the office for the day, debating: “Emerald green or Scarlet rose?” 

Naively, you answer: “Just say green, sweetie.” Right after, Winter swoops in to pick you up before the meeting and Giselle ends the phone call, leaving you a bit confused as to what color scheme she was putting together for her outfit. 

The vibrations of your phone thirty minutes into the meeting throws the overpassing voice into white noise as you get a closer look. 

Green. Green. Green. It’s all you see. She’s wearing a lingerie set, there’s these pretty little bows tied up around her hair, and the unfortunate dress shirt stolen from your closet seals the whole look. A vixen is what she is. The plethora of photos and selfies sent show her laying across the bed, aiming at the mirror, her legs canvassing the comforter - one of them reveals her panties, and the fact there’s nothing in the fucking middle- 

“You like?” She texts, but she adds on, “You come home in forty-five and you can take it off with your hands, any later than that and you’re doing it with your teeth.” 

–

“You should take a break.” Giselle calls out to you one night, watching as you’re settled into your personal study, reading multiple screens of different reports about you and her. “It’s late anyway.” 

You look up from your glasses, notice as Giselle’s standing on the doorframe, swirling a wine glass in her hand. And the thin layer of lace isn’t doing her any justice covering her figure. She’s got nothing underneath. 

“Who are you to stop me?” you ask, the tablet in your hand falling onto the desk as you stretch in your seat, eyes focused on her as she starts to make her way towards you. The tongue captured between your teeth already starts a spur of ideas of how you’ll twist and bend her fragile body, rip the robe off of her shoulders as she’s light on her tiptoes. There’s also the effortless flow of her hair rising and falling with every step, and the bounce of her tits is too casual for someone like her. “Besides, I just felt like reading the assurance that we’re doing our job.” 

She keeps swirling the wine, downs the last bits of it. The glass gets thrown somewhere across the room, and hits a random bookcase. There’s shards everywhere. Being mad at her right now is one thing, but you’re playing the long game as you swivel your chair towards her when she sets herself up on your desk, crosses her ankles together as she leans back and fiddles with the outlines of her robe. 

“Are you drunk?” you ask her again, the fingers resting along your thigh starting to curl up in a short flare of anger. “We’ve only had that glass set for a week.” 

“That should be the least of your problems.” Giselle refutes, shifting herself across the smooth woodwork. Until she’s rested over your thighs, a coy smile spreading across her lips. Her eyes stay trained on you as her forearms land on the bridge of your collarbones, fingers carding through the hair on the back of your head. You give a sign of impulse when you tug the underside of her knees closer to you, lean further back on the chair until she’s properly straddled, tilting herself down as the press of her lips start to fall across your neck. “Why’d you think I came to you in the first place?” 

“You told me that you were going to bed early.” 

“I was,” her voice trails off when she tilts your head up by the chin, gently leaving a peck of your lips once, twice, thrice. A thumb rubs the side of your cheek, and she pulls you back in again, the sharp inhale from your nose only boosts the confidence further. You could feel yourself sinking deeper into the seat, your stomach plummeting further down as your mind is trying to play defense and put up a response. But you’ve got your hands and lips full of her, and decide to plunge into that need she’s got you tethered to. 

So you pull back, for a momentary second, and Giselle sees an opening where she fixes the sudden crookedness in your glasses, holding your face gently as she examines the slopes and lines of your expression. You’re still sitting there, breathless, gaze almost in this form of wonder as she admires from the high ground. “What changed your mind?” 

“That’s for you to figure out.” 

“Doesn’t really help my case in any way, if at all.” you concede, and Giselle starts to laugh a bit, knocking her head against yours which earns a soft ‘ow’ from your lips. “Okay, what is it that you want?” 

“A lot of things, actually.” 

“Like what?” 

“I’m not telling you.” 

“I’ve got a few ideas so far,” you say, blinking with a skeptical arch in your eyebrows. Giselle sighs a bit when your hands snake to her ass, fingertips pressing down as your hips produce the lightest, and slightest grind against your pants. The quick exhale and dip of her head proves as a sign of satisfaction. You’re on the right path. “Maybe my hands are thinking ahead of the curve here?” 

Giselle tugs her hips forward, her fingers curl around your nape a little more desperately. The whine bubbling in her throat starts to collapse her whole facade, the pressure of your hands gripping tighter around the swell of her ass while your mouth canvasses her chest and collarbones, letting her take you deeper into her arms. “You’re brilliant when you’re speechless.” 

She nods through it, knowing the whole truth. 

“Want you-” she attempts to say, the breathiness of her words leaving her lips coming off as an uncertainty, “want you to tell me-” you’ve got her so close where the cornerstone of your hips holds her down, the inside of her thighs pressing on the outside of yours. There’s a clear wire being cut, the curtain raiser, the green light clicking in her head. She’s whittled down so fast and you’ve barely laid a finger on her sensitive parts. “What should I do?” 

You push her back, watch as her eyes flick up in confusion, but her lips hang in limbo for a second before the next set of words leaving your mouth serves as the proper instruction: Move your hand down. She does. Slowly. Her right hand trails down her midsection so painstakingly slow - until she shifts her legs wider in the seat of your knees. You’re no help too; sliding your hand up her inner thigh as she finally reaches the region just above her clit, her finger taking the first move when she starts touching herself. Look at you, so needy. The wince she does lower your eyelids, that wave of lust consuming her little by little. Your thumbs rest nicely in the divot of her hips, grinding her back as you lean forward to rest your head right right where her heart is. 

“Need a little help there?” You prompt, hand shifting over to where hers is between her legs, pushing her fingers along the glide of her leaking folds. Giselle’s breath is seeping out of the gritty cage of her teeth, driving herself insane with the way that you’re teasing her by her own hand. “It’s pretty how wet you are for me, I like that.” 

Giselle’s eyes are hooded, the light in her irises fading as if there’s another entity taking control of her. “Want you to grab me. Fuck me. Make me yours.” 

(She always wants a challenge, and you’re not getting it twisted here. But hey, when the opportunity persists-) 

It’s a bit of a swift move when you lift her up from the chair and onto the chair. Different articles of pens and papers and other various amenities hit the floor, and there’s nobody else in this home besides you too. “When you put it like that, it already looks like that I’ve won.” 

Giselle keeps on nodding, trying to keep her focus away from how your fingers slide into her aching cunt, laying her delicately across the smooth surface once she slips out of her thin robe. The anticipation. The thrill. All roads with her end in the same way of sorts. She tries to go on the offensive when she pulls you in for another desperate kiss, guiding her leg around the bend of your hip as the seat of your pants grinds against her aching heat. 

Your hands are fast on the buckle, she’s playing the supporting role with the curls of her fingers abducting the waistband of your pants, sliding them down. A lick of your thumb is the apparent preamble, swiping up her pussy as it draws out a hushed gasp from her, the strain in your cock firing up all nerve impulses. Her eye contact with you goes away, as she anticipates the inevitable outcome; the way that your cockhead presses up against her entrance, the euphoric rush of her clamp when she softly chirps, “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-” 

She goes limp over your weight pressing down on her. That motion repeated, over and over: embedding your cock right into the heat of her lovely cunt. Her nails scrape along the skin of your arm, the length easing as you move deeper, sinking. 

“-ere we go. Look at you, all dicked out of enjoyment, huh?” You rasp, the two senses of your sight and hearing focused on the way she writhes underneath you, her voice fading in and out of your ear canals. “Couldn’t have a proper good night’s sleep until I fucked you properly-” 

“Hate it. I hate how hot you sound when you talk to me like that.” 

You snap your hips, and the rebound of her tits wiggle across her chest. 

“You’re gonna cum so fast. I can feel it,” you tell her, pushing yourself deeper into her cunt with these practiced strokes. “Fill you up so well that you’ll come back for more. Or maybe, I can take that away, and have you squirting all over my face to have the real deal later-” 

“Please-” 

“Hmm?” you coax, dragging yourself out and meticulously sliding back in, throwing her off of the typical rhythm that you always give her. “Use your words, honey. I didn’t quite hear you there.” 

Her body jitters at your touch. She manages to get an elbow on the desk, the fringe of her hair falls forward onto her face - a sight that you’re so used to seeing no matter what time of the day it is. The words are a bit incoherent, barely mouthing them. You slap your hips up against the underside of her thighs to knock some sense into her, and her head bobbles back, waking her up. 

“-take-” 

She looks amazing. She feels amazing. 

“Come take what’s yours,” she orders, huffing. The glint in her eyes makes the whole command an absolute guarantee; because she knows, and she’s programmed you long enough for you to cement that resolve in your head. 

So it’s just like this: you’ll give it to her. Hard. 

Because you’ve learned early on how easy it is to fuck Giselle like this - picking up on her little habits and through countless times before - you’ve got her wrapped so well around your cock, and she’s got you well wrapped around your finger. It’s a clear trade off, transactional. Your arm hooks under the small of her back as she digs her ankles around your waist, pumping into her at a fast pace to where she’s constantly leaking all over your cock with every passing second. 

“God,” she giggles, and there’s the little slip-up of a sob falling soon after. It’s the bait and switch - how she finally got what she wanted, but the burying of your dick inside her baptizes that quick relief, only to be swept across the desk and find a new angle to put down, “fuck.” 

“A little speechless, are ya?” You ask. The pressure closing in, enveloping. It’s in the length, your weight, the stretch, finally settling your fill. You’ll siphon the air right out of her lungs, leave her with the rest. 

Her head falls slack: the beginning of her downfall; or yours, it’s all the same. 

“Mhm.” 

“Like this?” you ask again, arm teetering to her side, hand to the back of her neck. “A little more of what you can take?” 

“S’good-” 

“Again, baby.” 

“You’re s’good, I love riling you up like this, irritating you to the point where you just have to fuck me. Please, ugh- keep going, god-” she tells you, her hand flies up when one of the strokes into her was a bit too much, and your monitor is one of the things that falls off the desk. You’ll worry about damage control later, all the while you’re using Giselle’s sopping cunt. 

“See what happens when a pretty girl like you has nothing but issues? They don’t know how to handle themselves unless someone tells or shows them the right way,” you pant, grinding yourself down to the hilt, and you give her the generosity of gyrating her hips for her in circles. 

Giselle closes her eyes, breathes in, and realizes. 

You’re aware. Her brain is split up in two halves: frizzled and rapture, her tits are hypnotic in the way that they move with every piston your cock makes inside her. She isn’t moving her head much now, she looks up to the ceiling for something to keep her gaze on, but to no avail. Her hands don’t really know where they’re going at this point as it goes to your arms, then the desk, then wherever she could grab for a proper hold. She’s helpless; blowing her pussy out to smithereens where all of the obscene phrases and noises she’s letting out can be captured into these books on the shelves, a post-it note on your desk to have her play the beck and call to relieve your stresses with the simple clutch of her cunt. Her spine is basically ground zero at this point, tearing her apart nerve by nerve until she finally cums all over your waist. 

You’ve got no right to be gentle with her. Not anymore. 

Not when she’s inviting you in the way that she is. She’s glistening in sweat, smothering your cock in her cream, the slickness making the simple push in and pull out motion all the easier. You’ve reduced her well enough to just mere sounds and nods, bottoming her quivering cunt out as you rest your cheek well above the plush of her breast- 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you whisper, snapping your hips forward with the little bend of your lower back. “I’ll let you have me. I know how bad you need it. God, baby. You’re beautiful. Whining nothing but nonsense just to get me to use this body. This pussy, fuck-” 

“Uh huh,” she says, since the single utterances and mantras of ‘yeah’s’ can only say so much. She’s fogged up your mind, but also clears it in a sense. You have to fuck her. You’ve got to. “Don’t-” she sputters again, but the message was already registered in your head, voice cracking, “Don’t-”

Her hands slide up to the sides of your ribs, some part of hips aren’t even touching the desk anymore, and the angle where your cock carves it’s pathway into a deeper spot that she couldn’t even imagine you hitting - she fucking wails. 

You don’t say anything. Hell, you can’t even afford to say anything. Giselle is so fucking shameless, it’s a bit pathetic. Every passing thrash her body makes against yours is like a panic mode - similar to a state of shock where the mind and muscles are in this disconnect, fighting each other over what is the best course of action. She keeps taking your cock so well, the shake in her thighs, it’s no different. The symphonic tone of her voice rising up in these octaves as the pace gets faster, erratic. 

“Like that. Please, just like that- like that, like that, like that, oh fuck!” She’s shattered, much like the blowback from an explosion or shockwave. The yank you give her to her legs is nasty and mean. All bets are off the table, she’ll seal the deal in any way that you like. You’ve ruined her. She’s completely fucked - all these sharp noises and mewls and moans earning a rite of passage past those pretty lips of hers; fucking and pounding her sorry cunt as a means of shutting her up, which has worked countless times before, and it isn’t any different now. 

“Baby, you’re amazing,” you praise, and the heat of your forehead meets hers. And you swear there’s a sudden shock happening between when you rock your cock down into her cunt at the same time during the contact. 

Her brows collapse above her closed eyelids, and her stomach is so sucked in where you could see the bottom of her ribcage. You’ve got your fingers rested into the divots of her back, rutting your hips as your cock is well rested into her cunt clenched at the base, rubbing her clit - and she fucking keens. “Gonna cum all over your fucking cock,” she mutters, lip wobbling, “Keep going, I swear to-” 

There’s no reproach. It’s got pleasure written all over your body and hers. The grip of her cunt over your cock, that vice - she puts your frame of mind on a pedestal that not a lot of people were able to put you on, so you do the next logical thing to fill that bucket of ego in your head: drive that aching cock so deep into her fucking cunt, fuck her hard and fast until she shrieks, keep pumping and pumping and pumping until that sopping cunt is nothing but mush. And when you do, you hold her down at the crease where her hips and legs meet, fucking your pusling load into that tight hole of hers. She screams at the spill, cooing soon after once her mind registers past the wreckage. 

“So much. It’s so much. God, it’s so fucking much.” 

Yeah. You know. 

Giselle’s gravity has you so low, where you’ve rested well inside her, so close to where you can take it, feel it, that fucking suck of wetness where your cock shapes perfectly into her cunt. Marking the spot as yours. The soreness of it is downright disgusting. She thrives in the ache - the fine line met in the middle with your hips; maybe in a place deep within that no one else really sees, besides her. She can’t stop babbling the nonsense; so you just keep- you keep fucking into her. Until you finally stay as the pace fades. 

When the thrums of your beating heart start to subside. 

The ragged breathing you two profess is the only constant as your cock softens up inside her, pulling out as a few remnants of your cum leaks out of her thighs, dripping onto the desk, staining the stray paperworks caught in the crossfire. 

She keeps on whimpering, even when you’re running your fingertips and lips over the valley of her figure. Her chest carries on with the rise and fall as you’re pulling the messy strands away from her face, lock your gaze onto hers; the mere intimacy of it not your typical craving or cup of tea, but the lazy and sweet smile she pulls earns a tilt of your head, and you keep on admiring. 

“Umngh,” she finally says, worn-out and pliant. 

“Tired?” 

Giselle raises those lazy, doe eyes of hers, the flush of her cheeks still fresh to the image - almost feverish. Her mouth wobbles a bit, jaw dangling as she tries to find the right ways to move them like she normally does. But she nods. She nods and nods and nods. 

You kiss her forehead, and tell her, “alright, I’ll carry you to bed.” 

–

“Maybe if,” she’s telling you later, snuggled up against your side, finger tracing along your bare chest as you continue to let your eyes wander around the ceiling, “We could throw in the idea of leaving everything behind. Light the match. Elope. Get away from this circle so that it can just be us, only us.” 

You shift a bit in your crater of the mattress, the low hum rumbling in pensiveness, “For once, I actually think we agree on something.” 

Giselle moves up to leave a kiss to your chin, nestles her head back into the dip of your collarbone. “You just get me. It’s one of the few things I love about you.” She doesn’t say anything after that, drifting away into her eventual slumber. 

(It gets you thinking, though. The potency to do exactly what she suggested: to create a whirlpool of shit that tanks the whole cover story plan into oblivion. You’re not feeling any sense of regret whatsoever, for the very few things that were handed to you while you worked hard to capture the rest. 

You’ve always believed that things happen for a reason. And even as you’re aware of all the details and facts, you can’t help but feel left in the dark despite knowing that there’s a inkling of light to be seen at the end of the tunnel. All it takes for the tinderbox to ignite, is for someone to start the fire. 

If Giselle was willing to start it, then you would be willing to also.) 

–

To describe the current state of this whole situation with a single word, you’d draw it up to be content; comfortable felt too safe, and with that said notion of security it’s right there in the meaning, but falling short just a bit. 

Chatter surrounding the family mergers does die down for a bit, and the media cycle’s attention goes towards other things. In layman’s terms: it’s a nice refreshing breath of fresh air. You’ve held your end of the deal for your parents, running the fake play much to the point that the chief editors got fed up with having their lens too close to you. They can’t scan nor decode from the stills and written reports alone, at least for now. 

Giselle’s lounging on your couch in the office as per usual, heels off and legs folded nicely after coming from a breakfast outing with one of her tight-knit business partners, filling you in on the various discussions they had over a few cups of expensive espressos. 

“You’ve got anything on your agenda still?” Giselle asks, rubbing over the touched-up polish on her nails, waiting for an answer. 

“Just stepping out to get a drink for Winter,” you say, walking over to her with a hand in your pocket, the same head tilt you always give her to keep you grounded, “since I owe her.” 

“Long?” 

You shake your head, take her hand in yours and place a kiss to the three knuckles of her fingers, “No, it’s a quick run to the place right at the corner.” 

Giselle nods soon after, “Okay, I’ll be here. I just have to make a quick phone call to someone.” 

The swivel on your neck stays on her as the rest of your body is moving towards the door. She gives a longing look, one with a slight of visible confusion as she presses her phone to her ear, waiting for the line to connect at the other end. The arch of her eyebrows says ‘What?’ and you’re smirking like a carefree idiot, mouthing the old expressive phrase that sounds too cliché to even say aloud, but she tips her head down, sighing out an airy laugh to let you know she got the message. 

“You idiot, I know. Now go.” 

No bother in refusing, because that wavelength was already established from the start, and you move forward.

–

What happens next, will be a moment in time where the world stands still; for just a moment. It leaves everyone in shock as to the how’s and why’s, and some are rather more piqued at the aftermath than the cause. 

(The cause itself is harmless at first, until the twist of time and circumstance finds some sinister way to turn it against you.) 

You’re following the usual routine as always getting the occasional drink once in a while: walk out the main entrance of the building, get into your car, weave into traffic for about five or so minutes until your driver pulls over to the curb with the hazard lights on as you’re putting in the typical order of Winter’s go-to beverage: a simple iced americano with two packs of sugar to give the test a little more tackiness and bite that somehow does the trick in her productivity. She could’ve picked something more simpler, but it helps her get the job done. 

The thing is, you never actually make it to the car in the first place. Rather, you’re stopping yourself right out the front door when a peculiar figure stands right at the bottom steps next to one of the neighboring railings. A girl; someone that you give a quick glance to and go on with your day. She’s got a small Versace handbag in her left hand, her right with a cigarette as she looks about done with the roll anyway, but holds it up once her eyes are dead set through her shades, examining. 

Here’s where the disarm happens, and it’s so easy to fall into - because whether she’s five feet close or two hundred feet away, she’s got you right where she wants. “Funny. I was starting to think that your phone was broken.” 

You look dead set at her face, confused. The voice alone pulls you in like a flood. No. No, there’s possibly no fucking way- 

So you test: “Yiz?" You're pretty sure entirely, it's her. "Oh god, don’t tell me.” 

Yizuho laughs softly, pulling her sunglasses away from her face, and the hair flip she does is subtle, but one where she’s done countless times, and every instance has the same effect on you. It’s lethal, captivating, attractive, downright beautiful - exuding all of the things that push the boundaries of traditional classiness. She looks down, flashes her eyes back up to yours; an inquisitive expression is painted across her face, “You know how much I hate that name. Jesus, you’re the worst.” 

You’re not helping yourself, leaning a bit to the right with a hand in your pocket, lowering your guard. “Sorry. It’s a bad habit of mine, you know this. Ningning.” 

Ningning concedes, accepting your poor apology, looking off into the distance again - almost as if she was being followed like in those thriller movies where she would be the damsel in distress, coming to you for a sense of protection. She picks up fast after the niceties, “You got a minute to talk?” 

“Not really. I’m on a schedule here.” 

Getting sidetracked wasn’t in the cards for today, and you’re doing a decent job of neutralizing the conversation when you’re about to walk away. Only to be sucked in by Ningning’s voice again, a poor move on your behalf. “That’s the thing. It’s urgent.” 

“Think we can arrange something for later this week?” 

“I was hoping that you can talk now.” 

Your feet freeze at the right time as two guys come up behind your flank, grabbing your arm and wrist as the metal grind almost sounds like the rip of a sheet of paper. Next thing you know, you’re handcuffed; and the only thing that your mind at that second was: shit, this is not good. 

“Ning, what the fuck-” 

“Retribution, sweetie,” she sneers, “It looks perfect on you.”

And it’s almost as if the universe decided to spin the wheel on you today, of all days, to take another turn in your fate; undermining nearly all of the good deeds you’ve done in your life up to this point. But that’s not the worst part, people take notice of the commotion, and start to close in on you four. They’ve got their phones out, recording, taking pictures; documenting the whole thing. 

Ningning’s got her phone to her ear, most likely confirming with the person on the other end that the deal’s been done, and her screen is faced towards you as soon as she ends the call. 

Make no fucking mistake, you’ll fight the world bare-handed to get to the bottom of this. Even if the first person you'd go for would be the contact on Ningning's phone whose name starts with the letter ‘G’. 

[straylightdream]

king of my heart

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: jeon wonwoo x f.reader

↳ I'm perfectly fine, I live on my own. I made up my mind, I'm better off being alone. We met a few weeks ago. Now you try on callin' me "baby" like tryin' on clothes

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: soulmates au?, non idol au

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.2k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: so much fluff, they’re both so incredibly down bad for each other, wonwoo rides a motorcycle (I don’t know if that’s a warning), smut warning below the cut

𝐚𝐧: my next story for SVT inspired by reputation songs by taylor swift. This is part of a loosely connecting series called “all for you” you can absolutely just read this as one shot. Vernon’s story is coming soon about him and his girl that’s mentions.

if you would like to be tagged please fill out this form.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, big dick wonwoo, breeding kink, cum play, cum eating, body worship, breast play (wonwoo is boob obsessed), praise kink, glasses kink?(mc gets really turned on by wonwoo glasses), nicknames: baby (both)

It all felt like a whirlwind meeting him. You had lived your life mostly alone. You had moved to the city after college away from your family. You were heavily focused on your career. You had lived alone for the last two years and never even tried dating.

You met Wonwoo on a Friday night when a couple of coworkers convinced you to go out with them. You couldn’t say no to Mingyu when he practically begged you to join him and his friends. You and Mingyu worked for a publishing house.

Something tells you Mingyu wanted to set you up with Wonwoo all along. The moment you were introduced you were drawn to him. He’s so handsome and charming. You shared an instant connection with him you had never shared with anyone before.

Since that first night you met you couldn’t stop thinking about the boy with glasses. You went on your first date after only knowing each other for two days. He took you on a sunset picnic by the river. You instantly realized you had a lot in common but you were also quite different, but in a good way. That night was the first night you rode on his motorcycle. You never knew you could be so attracted to a man who rode a motorcycle before him. He took you home walking you up to your apartment. You had no issues with sleeping together on your first date, but Wonwoo said he wanted to wait a little. He said the anticipation of what’s to come will make it worth it. So that night with you pressed up against your front door you shared a heated kiss goodbye.

It’s only been two months and you can’t get enough of him. He still gives you butterflies and his touch feels electric. You spend almost every day with him one way or another.

His body is plastered behind yours as you lay on your side. His hand grips your soft stomach as he slowly thrust into you. This has been a normal way you’ve been waking up with him. You found out very early on that Wonwoo is quite fond of morning sex. Waking up with Wonwoo erection poking your stomach gave you an idea of how your morning was going to go. It didn’t take him long for him to slip off your underwear and push your oversized shirt up. You can’t help but question why you even try to sleep wearing clothes when Wonwoo is in your bed.

Pushing your hips back you can’t help but gasp at how deep he’s hitting. This is one of your favorite positions with him. He’s so big that when he’s behind you he feels like he’s going extra deep.

“Baby,” he moans your latest nickname he’s started calling you.

Everything about Wonwoo is perfect. Even his body is perfect. His wide shoulders and slim waist, and his dick is the biggest you’ve ever had. You don’t know how you’ll repay Mingyu for basically setting you up.

Wonwoo falls apart filling you to the brim. You learned early on that Wonwoo loves fucking you raw and has a fascination with coming inside you. Sometimes you wonder if he's trying to get you pregnant.

Sitting on his knees between your legs he watches intently as his cum drips out of you. His finger slowly scoops some up before pushing it back inside of you.

“You know you're the first man I have been with who seems obsessed with coming inside me,” you tease.

“Does it make me territorial!?” He smiles.

“Possibly, but you don’t try to dom me while you do it.” Your hand glides down your stomach and slowly dips through your fold smearing around his release.

“Do you want me dom you?” He asked, arching his eyebrow.

“Not really. I like the way things are with us.”

“That’s good because this is about as kinky as I get,” he laughs crawling off the bed. He disappears into your bathroom that’s connected to your room. He comes back holding a warm washcloth. Gently he wipes away the mess that you’ve both made.

“I think you’re kinkier than you give yourself credit for. You definitely like to overstimulate me. You also are definitely obsessed with my boobs.”

He walks over to the nightstand putting on his glasses. Shaking his head, “and you’re obsessed with me fucking you while I have my glasses on.”

“Who can blame a girl?” You slowly sit up. He presses his lips to yours for a soft kiss. “Oh we can’t forget the time you thought it would be fun to edge me.”

-

“Has Wonwoo convinced you to go to Seungcheol's birthday tonight yet?” Mingyu says sitting a cup of coffee down in front of you.

Going to events with Wonwoo’s friend group still felt odd to you. You weren’t used to a man proudly wanting to take you to things.

Before you started dating the man who has been stealing your heart, you didn’t realize you have a few mutual friends. Before your first meeting you had Mingyu mention Wonwoo’s name a few times. It turns out you and Wonwoo had a few mutual friends. One of them is your coworker Mingyu and the other two are friends from college Vernon and Sweetie. The latter who is now dating another friend from the boys’ friend group Soonyoung.

“Has my boyfriend recruited you to help convince me?” You take a sip of your iced coffee. Seungcheol birthday party has been a conversation with your boyfriend for over a week.

“He mentioned a couple times that you felt awkward going,” he sits down in the chair in front of your desk.

“I’m awkward in social settings. Hell I never went out with anyone from work until that night a couple months ago when you convinced me.” You we’re quite the homebody before you started working with Mingyu. Back in college you really only had two friends: your roommate at the time, sweetie and her best friend Vernon.

“And look what happened you went out and I got you a boyfriend,” he smiles. Mingyu is never going to stop bragging about the fact that he successfully set up you and Wonwoo.

“I guess I don’t need to go out again since I got myself a boyfriend. I only need one. I don't need to go try to find a second one.”

The eye roll he gives you makes you feel like you’re winning this conversation. “Very funny. (YN) just go to the party. It’s just a get together on the rooftop of Seungcheol and Shau’s place. We’re not going clubbing or anything.”

“Why do you and Wonwoo want me to go so badly?”

“Because your boyfriend wants to be able to show you off. Wonwoo wasn’t really a relationship guy before you. Let him be the doting boyfriend he loves to be with you.” It seems like both you and Wonwoo we’re fine on your own before you met.

“Are you going to bring any one?” You attempt to change the subject.

Leaning back in his chair he suddenly seems shy. “I have a friend who might come with me.”

“Is this certain friend a girl who works at your favorite coffee place.”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” you smile before taking a drink of your coffee. “Has she ridden on your motorcycle yet?”

A smile pulls at his lips, “maybe.”

-

You’ve been home from work for about an hour before Wonwoo lets himself into your apartment. He finds you sitting on your couch with your laptop looking at a book manuscript.

He looks extremely hot with little effort. He’s wearing jeans, a tight fitting white shirt and a leather jacket. It’s clear by the helmet in hand he rode his motorcycle over.

“Hi,” you close your laptop.

He doesn’t say anything, he walks over and presses his lips to yours for a heated kiss.

“I thought I would stop by before heading to Cheol’s birthday.”

“Did you miss me already,” you tease.

“I always miss you.” He pulls away sitting his helmet on the coffee table.

“You just saw me this morning.”

“Maybe that’s too long ago for me,” he sits down next to you.

“How can I get you to go to Cheol’s party with me?” With the amount of times he’s brought up this party it’s clear it's important to him. You’re starting to feel selfish for giving him such a hard time about it. When it comes to being in a relationship with him you know you both need to compromise sometimes.

“You really want me to go, huh?”

“It would be the first time most of the group is together and I would like to introduce you to more people.” He pushes his fingers through his hair. “Also a few of the guys Soonyoung, Jihoon, and Shau’s girlfriends will all be there.”

“I'm already friends with Soonyoung and his girlfriend. Are we forgetting she was my college roommate?”

“Just humor me and come. Please.”

“Do you have a second helmet or are we taking a cab to Cheol’s?”

“Let’s take cab so you can wear one of your cute little dresses.”

-

Parties and get together we’re never your favorite situation to be in. Things don’t feel as overwhelming when Wonwoo is holding your hand through it all.

All of Wonwoo’s friends are nice and they all seem very excited to get to know you.

Jeonghan went on a rant telling you how Wonwoo talks about you all the time at work. You feel your cheeks burn as you hear about all the kind things your boyfriend says about you.

Mingyu arrives at the party with a pretty girl. You assume it’s the girl you’ve heard him talk about. Anytime he’s ever mentioned her he sounds absolutely smitten.

“I think that girl with Mingyu might actually make him change his ways,” Wonwoo whispers in your ear. You’ve through working with Mingyu, and from dating his best friend/roommate that Mingyu isn’t normally the dating type. He likes to love and leave them. Most of his relationships seem to be only sexual.

“He looks happy,” you say.

“He is. Maybe he’ll find what we have,” he kisses your temple. “I’m going to get a drink. Why don’t you talk Vernon?”

Your boyfriend heads off to the table that is set up as a makeshift bar. Walking over to the edge that looks out onto the city. Vernon is standing there with a red cup in his hand. He seems lost in thought.

“What are you thinking about?” Vernon looks up at you before taking a sip of his drink.

“Do you ever think that you’re destined to be with someone?”

You’ve been thinking about this a lot recently. Your opinions on it now are drastically different then they would have been at the beginning of the year. “You know if you would have asked me this three months ago I would have said no. But since meeting Wonwoo I feel like a part of me has always been missing before him. He makes me feel whole in a way I didn’t even know was possible.”

He leans back against the rail, “sounds like you’re in love.”

“I’ve been in love before, but nothing has ever felt like this.”

Vernon gives you a smile before taking another drink. “Sounds to me like maybe Wonwoo is your soulmate.”

That word has been floating around in your head for over a month. At the rate you fell in love with Wonwoo it didn’t feel real. Before him you were perfectly fine being alone. But somehow he changed everything.”

“Maybe he is,” looking over at the bar area you find him smiling while he’s listening to Joshua and Jun tell him something. You love when he smiles and makes your heart flutter. “I think I need to tell him I love him.”

“Have you guys not said the big L word?”

“Not yet. I think I will tonight.”

Vernon has always been someone special to you. He always seemed to understand more than any of your friends. “Why did you ask about being destined to be with someone?”

“It’s nothing,” he looks down at his feet.

“Vernon, just tell me.”

He lets out a heavy sigh, “I used to think I was destined to be with Sweetie back in college. But like clearly that didn’t work out and it’s a good thing it didn’t because her and Soonyoung are so happy,” he looks off into the corner where Soonyoung and his girlfriend are clearly having an intimate conversation. “I always cared about her and I definitely loved her back then, but there is someone else now.”

“The neighbor girl?” You’ve heard him mention the girl who lived across from him, Chan, and Seokmin. He just nods. “Is she still with that guy?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s cheating on her,” he sighs. “I found her crying outside her apartment again yesterday.”

“Have you guys gotten closer?”

“Yeah. I can’t really keep my feelings out of it either.”

“Have you thought about telling her? Maybe it would give her a reason to leave him.”

“It’s crossed my mind.”

Wonwoo walks up behind pressing his lips to the top of your head. “Hey Vernon.” He reaches over patting Vernon on the shoulder.

“Hey Wonwoo. I’m gonna give you guys a minute.” Vernon instantly excuses himself.

“Is he okay?” Wonwoo asked.

“I think he will be.” You can’t help but be sad for Vernon. He hasn’t exactly been the luckiest when it comes to the dating department.

Wonwoo hands you a red cup with what looks like beer in it. Staring at him watching as he takes a sip you feel like a college girl drinking beer out of plastic cups with the boy she’s fascinated with.

“Wonwoo?”

“Yeah baby?” He gives you that same smile that melts you every time.

“I love you.” Normally you would be terrified to say those words first, but with Wonwoo you’re anything but scared.

“That’s good, because I’m head over heels for you,” he steps closer to you. Leaning down presses his lips to yours for a heated kiss.

“Does that mean you love me?” You want to hear him say those three little words.

“I absolutely love you.”

You lean forward and kiss him again. You won’t ever get enough of the feeling of his lips on yours. Wrapping his arms around you he holds you close. There is something so warm and safe about being in his arms.

He releases you from his hold and leans down pressing his lips to your again.

“I need to use the restroom,” you want to get Wonwoo alone away from all his friends for a few moments.

“It’s downstairs in Cheol’s place.”

“I really need you to go with me,” you lace your fingers with his.

“Oh, I’m assuming you don’t need to pee?”

“Not at all.”

-

Bent over the sink he slowly thrust into you. Glancing up into the mirror, your eyes focus on Wonwoo reflection. The site of his hair a little messy and his glasses on as he fucks you turns you on even more. Strong hands grip your hip as he thrust into you quickly.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he groans. Reaching around he takes one of your boobs in his hands. You learned very early on that Wonwoo has an obsession with your boobs. He loves playing with them while you fuck.

“You’re doing so good for me,” his praises do nothing but spur you on. “You take me so well.”

“Fuck- you feel so good,” you quitely whine.

His hips snap into yours at a quick pace. He’s normally not this quick or rough, but doing this in Seungcheol’s apartment bathroom while everyone is up on the rooftop means he can’t take his time with you.

“I love you,” you moan.

“Say it again,” he continues thrusting into you.

“I love you Wonwoo.”

Putting your hand over your mouth you desperately try to muffle your moans. Everyone might be up on the roof top but you don’t want to risk someone coming into the apartment and hearing what you and your boyfriend are doing. They don’t need to hear you screaming because he’s absolutely railing you in the bathroom.

“I love you,” he moans.

“Harder,” you moan.

He snaps his hips even harder than before. If you weren’t bent over the counter he might knock you over with how hard he’s thrusting into you. Grabbing your bicep he lifts you up so you’re flush against him as his hips thrust into you. His hand slides push the straps of your dress down to access your breast. He squeezes tightly playing with your taunt nipple.

“Baby,” you whimper.

“Fuck-“

You normally like to look at him during sex but he’s hitting inside you so incredibly deep you’re practically seeing stars.

Fall apart together moaning each other's name. He rolls his hips slowly helping you ride out your high while he paints your inside walls white.

“Maybe coming inside me wasn’t a good idea at a party.”

Slowly he pulls out leaving you feeling empty. Your hand reaches down to your core where his cum is already leaking out. He stands there blissed out staring at you. He dips his finger through your slit picking up some of his release. He holds it up to your mouth and without even thinking you lick it off his fingers.

“Fuck, you’re hot.”

“Maybe we should clean me up, so everyone doesn’t know fucked in the birthday boy’s bathroom.” You say earning a laugh from your boyfriend.

Going back up to the rooftop you try to act like nothing happened downstairs with you and Wonwoo. You let him hold your hand taking you around the party talking to all of his friends. Even though you don’t like parties or anything like that you realize you’ll go to any of them with Wonwoo because you know that makes him happy. You honestly will do anything for him if it will make him happy.

Laying in bed you look over at Wonwoo. He’s adjusting his glasses as he reads something on his phone.

“Wonwoo?”

“Baby?”

“I might sound crazy, but I think you’re my soulmate. I haven’t ever loved anyone like I love you.”

He sets his phone down and gives you a smile, “I thought I was crazy too. I definitely love you more then anyone I have ever loved before.”

“I feel like you have my heart, body, and soul,” you say.

“You have stolen every part of my existence,” he leans over, pressing his lips to yours for a heated kiss. The longer you’re with him the more you realize he is truly the king of your heart, body, and soul.

[soaps-mohawk]

The Angel and The Devil

Kyletober Day 17: Double Penetration

Summary: In the back of the bar in a booth just barely visible, they are seated. You’ve been eyeing them since you first caught a glimpse, almost drawn to them in a magnetic haze. You can’t help but look, even if you run the risk of being caught staring. You have yet to be so unlucky, as their attention seems to be on each other the most.

Pairing: Incubus!Kyle x reader x Incubus!Johnny

Word Count: 6,688 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, explicit smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, anal sex, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), munch!Kyle, costumes, demons, symbolism, slight coercion, alcohol, language

A/N: And here we are! We've arrived at the end of Kyletober for what I think is my favorite fic of the month. It's been a fun month and I've had a good time with these fics and seeing everyone's reactions. I hope you've enjoyed the last month as well and Happy Halloween everyone!

MASTERLIST

The bar is full of all sorts of characters and creatures tonight. 

It’s Halloween which means the bar is fuller than usual, even on a weekend. It had been a last minute decision which led you to the bar. After a rough day at work you needed a pick-me-up and so you had gone to the nearest store, grabbed one of the few remaining costumes off the shelf in favor of not sticking out, and then headed to your favorite bar. 

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

You’re beginning to regret not looking closer at the costume you grabbed. The cheap angel wings are too tight, the elastic straps digging into your underarms. The halo bobs precariously on your head with every movement, and you’re half tempted to just take them off and shove them in a bin. 

“Yes, actually.” You say, turning to the Frankenstein that has saddled up to you at the crowded bar. “It means I have to listen to cheesy pickup lines all night.” 

You ignore the jeers of Frankenstein’s friends as you turn back to your drink, casting your gaze around the bar again. You’re just here to numb the sting of a particularly awful day at work, and nothing more. 

At least, until your gaze lands on them again. 

In the back of the bar in a booth just barely visible, they are seated. You’ve been eyeing them since you first caught a glimpse, almost drawn to them in a magnetic haze. You can’t help but look, even if you run the risk of being caught staring. You have yet to be so unlucky, as their attention seems to be on each other the most. 

It’s not fair how beautiful some people are. How blessed others can be with good genetics and decent bone structure. The two at the back of the bar may as well be models. 

They’re...beautiful.

The one with the mohawk is all playful grins and boisterous laughter. There’s a roughness to him, more handsy than the other one, even as his bright blue eyes scan the bar occasionally. The other is softer with near perfect skin, short cropped curls, and the most dazzling smile you think you’ve ever seen. That smile still holds a teasing tilt to it though, but he’s not as blatant with it as mohawk. 

The devil horns on his head don’t fit him. He should be the one dressed as the angel. 

They’re both wearing cheesy devil horns and you suppose the matching tails. There’s a cheap plastic pitchfork leaned against the booth next to mohawk. The look fits him perfectly with his devilish grin, though you suppose the devil is supposed to be beautiful, so perhaps it does fit his partner as well. 

You knew they were together as soon as you laid eyes on them. It’s not hard to tell. How close they sit, the way lips brush ears when they lean in to whisper. Smirks cocking lips in upwards turns as hands move under the table. They’re a beautiful couple. Far out of your league. 

Yet you can’t help but imagine it. Screw the angel and devil on your shoulders, you want two devils. One in front, one in back. You can almost imagine the heat their bodies give off, the push of solid muscle on each side, sandwiching you between them. 

Your teeth sink into your lip at the idea. 

You turn your gaze back to them, nearly jumping as you meet a pair of bright blue eyes. You’re shocked for a moment, not expecting him to be looking right at you. His eyes have passed over you a number of times as he’s looked around the bar, but this is the first time he’s ever looked at you. There’s no mistake. He’s not looking at anyone else. His eyes are locked on yours, almost as if he had read your mind, seen your inner thoughts about the two of them. 

Something holds you there, the magnetic energy that had drawn you to them strengthening. Heat pulses between your thighs as mohawk’s tongue darts out wetting his bottom lip. Those lips lift in a smirk and suddenly the spell is broken. 

You whip back around to face the bar, cheeks blazing. The halo on top of your head bobs at the sudden movement, nearly pulling the headband from your head. You steady it with a hand, taking a deep breath. Shaky fingers curl around your drink and you down the rest of it, ignoring the burning in your throat from the strong liquor. 

Of course eventually you’d get caught staring. It’s not like you were being very inconspicuous, out here eyeballing them blatantly. 

“Can I get you another?” 

The voice makes you jump, the empty glass in your hand nearly clattering onto the bar. Your head whips around, eyes widening as you stare at the angel before you. Well...devil before you.

He’s even more beautiful up close. His skin is perfect aside from the scar on his cheek. His eyes are deep brown, and the longer you stare at them, the more you feel like you’re sinking into their depths. You get a firsthand look at that dazzling smile as he flashes one at you, showing off perfect white teeth. 

There’s an edge to that smile, though, something in the back of your mind starting to itch. 

“Can I buy you another round?” He asks again in that smooth, honeyed tone. It’s captivating, almost floating straight into your ears like a song. 

He’s staring at you, waiting patiently for your response. You clear your throat, nodding before you can even think about it. “Y-Yeah. I could go for another.” Your hand reaches up, steadying the halo again as it bobs back and forth. 

His eyes watch your hand for a moment before he grins, dropping his gaze back to yours. He flags the bartender, giving him your order. You’re too busy staring at him, enraptured by his beauty to wonder how he knew what you were drinking. 

“Would it be too cliche to ask what a pretty angel like you is doing here alone?” He asks, leaning against the side of the bar, blocking you from the werewolf next to you that had been eyeing you as you stared across the bar. 

Your face warms, a laugh leaving your lips. “A little maybe.” You should stop there. “Getting some stress relief from that 9 to 5 grind.” The words leave your lips before you can stop them. You’ve lost complete control of your body and your mind in his presence. 

Something is wrong. 

Alarm bells go off in the back of your mind as he turns to the bartender. He slips a note across the bar, telling the bartender to keep the change. You had glimpsed it before it disappeared in the bartender’s hand. It was far more than two drinks would cost. 

The bad feeling disappears from your mind as he turns back to face you, both of your drinks in hand. “Why don’t you come join us?” 

Say no! 

You nod, almost feeling like you’re in a trance. “Yeah, okay.” 

He grins, his eyes flashing with something too fast for you to tell what it is. “Come on.” He motions with his head. 

You slide off the bar stool, the two words almost feeling like a final signature on a contract, sealing your fate for the evening. 

You won’t be leaving alone. 

Your feet move automatically as you follow him across the bar to the booth where the other is still sitting. A tingle runs down your spine as he continues to stare at you. You feel almost like prey being stared down by a hungry predator. 

Perhaps you are the prey. The angel caught between the claws of a devil.

You slide into the booth without even having to be told to, your body still moving automatically as you wind up between the two. Your drink is set down in front of you, and you don’t bother to notice how the one in front of mohawk hasn’t been touched. 

“Aren’t ye a bonnie little thing.” Mohawk says, draping his arm across the back of the booth. “Call me Johnny. That’s Kyle.” He says, nodding to the one on the other side of you. 

You tell him your name, still feeling like you’re in a daze, trapped under his sharp blue gaze. Your wings move slightly, his fingers playing with the feathers strapped to your back. It feels almost ironic being trapped between them. 

You certainly won’t be feeling much like an angel by the time the night is over. 

“Saw ye lookin’ from the bar.” He continues, a smirk playing on his lips. It sends a shiver down your spine, but you can’t tell why. There’s something dangerous in there, some sort of threat raising alarm bells in the back of your mind. “Pretty little angel hoping to catch the attention of a couple of devils, huh?” He adjusts the twisted elastic strap of your wings. It makes your stomach clench, having his hand so close to you, his knuckles brushing against the side of your breast. 

Something feels off, some primal part of your brain screaming, but you can’t quite hear what it’s saying. You’re too caught up in his magnetic presence to care about much else.  

“Like what ye see, angel?” He asks. 

You nod, still caught under his gaze. Your brain feels foggy, like you’re slipping into a daze. For a moment you panic that someone might have drugged your drink, that Kyle might have slipped something in while you weren’t looking. It’s easily done. All it takes is a second and you let him carry the drink all the way from the bar to the table. 

Hands turn you around, the hazy fog disappearing as you meet Kyle’s brown eyes. Sudden clarity washes over you as you’re turned away from Johnny, almost as if he had been holding you under a spell. There’s still a faint buzzing in the back of your mind as you stare at Kyle and his soft grin. It’s so soft and comforting compared to Johnny’s intensity. 

“Such a pretty thing.” Kyle says, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is electric as his fingers brush against you, your skin tingling all the way down to your toes and he’s barely touched you. He adjusts your halo as it wobbles, still holding your gaze. 

“Been watching ye since you walked in.” Johnny says, suddenly closer behind you, his breath warm on the back of your neck. 

You know that’s not true. 

You don’t care. 

“Knew ye were watchin’ us.” Johnny continues, his lips brushing the back of your ear. “Knew ye were interested.” He chuckles. “A little angel interested in a couple devils.”

A shudder runs through you as he presses a kiss to the skin behind your ear. His lips are warm, almost hot against your skin. 

You feel warm again, your mind starting to go hazy as Johnny’s lips press soft kisses against your skin. Kyle’s hand drops to your thigh, fingers trailing up your jeans. You almost wish he’d slip that hand between your thighs, but instead he skirts it around to the outside, trailing those fingers up to your hip. 

A couple devils indeed. 

“Well?” Kyle asks, snapping you back into awareness. Johnny is pressed fully against your back, now his lips almost lazily brushing your skin. “Are you interested?” 

Say no. 

Some deep part of your brain is screaming, sounding off all the alarms and raising all the flags, yet you can’t bring yourself to listen to it, much less care. You’re in too deep and the only way out is to go deeper. 

You’re not sure you want to stop. 

You nod, your lips parting as Johnny presses a searing kiss to your skin. 

“Need ye to say it, hen.” Johnny says, his hand closing around your side. 

“Yes.” You breathe. The words feel like the fall of a gavel, the stamp of approval on that contract you signed by agreeing to join them in the booth. You’ve sealed your fate for the night. 

There’s no going back now. 

“Good.” Kyle says, leaning forward to kiss you. 

His lips are soft, incredibly soft as they press against yours. He tastes like liquor, whatever sweet cocktail he had been sipping on. A quiet sound leaves your lips as his tongue presses into your mouth, his hand reaching up to grip your chin. You’re lost in the kiss, mind going blank as your body begins to tingle. Your panties are quickly dampening, the fabric sticking to your skin. Another hand drags up your leg, and you begin to curse your decision to wear pants. Who wears pants to a bar? 

Someone who didn’t expect to pick up anyone tonight. 

Or, well...get picked up. 

Johnny’s hand squeezes your thigh, his chuckle vibrating against your back. “Gettin’ her all worked up.” He presses his face against your neck, Kyle tilting your head so he has more room. “Can almost taste it.” 

His lips brush the side of your neck, his hand trailing higher on your leg. For a moment you hope he’ll take pity on you and slip it between your thighs, but instead he slides it higher, slipping it under your shirt. 

You pull away from Kyle’s lips as Johnny’s warm hand meets your skin. It’s electric, his touch like fire against your body. Your head tilts back against his shoulder, a moan slipping from your lips as your pussy begins to throb. Johnny chuckles again, Kyle’s mouth moving to your neck. One of your hands grips the edge of the table as Johnny’s fingers brush the skin of your stomach, holding on for dear life. 

All he’s doing is touching your skin. What is it going to feel like when he finally sinks his fingers between your legs?

You let out another moan as his hand slips higher, skirting dangerously close to your breasts. Reality slams back into you for a moment. Sure, you might be tucked in a back corner of the bar, but there’s still people around you. You’re still in a public place. You cast a nervous glance around the bar as Johnny’s hand cups your breast under your shirt. 

No one is looking at you. 

It’s almost like they can’t see the three of you at all. 

“I think she’s ready.” Johnny says, pulling his face from your neck as his hand squeezes your breast through your bra. 

Kyle hums, pressing one last searing kiss to your throat before he pulls his head away. “I think you’re right.” 

“C’mon kitten. Let’s go somewhere more private.” Johnny all but growls in your ear. 

You don’t remember the taxi ride home. You don’t remember getting up the stairs to your apartment or opening the door. You don’t remember telling them where you live at all. 

They’re on you as soon as you reach your bedroom, sandwiching you between them again. Johnny in the back, Kyle in front. 

You don’t remember telling them where your bedroom is. 

“Look at her.” Kyle coos, holding your jaw in his hand. His thigh is pressed between your legs, the seam of your jeans pushing deliciously against your throbbing slit as you grind against his leg. 

“Needy little thing.” Johnny groans, his hips grinding against your ass. 

“Could say the same about you.” Kyle smirks, his hand sliding down to your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, just holds it there, solidifying the silent agreement. 

They’re in charge. 

You’re just along for the ride. 

“Want to taste her.” Kyle groans against your lips, his thigh pushing harder against your clothed pussy. 

“Always so impatient.” Johnny says, undoing the button and zipper on your pants. “Yer in for a treat, hen.” 

Your feet leave the floor as Johnny picks you up far too easily. You drop on your bed, the mattress creaking as you bounce on it. His hands curl around the waistband of your jeans, tugging them down your legs in one pull. He spreads your legs apart, staring down at your panties. They’re nothing special, certainly nothing you’d wear if you had been expecting something like this. 

You just went in for a quick drink.

Now look at you. 

“Would ye fuckin’ look at that.” Johnny says, whistling quietly as he stares at the damp spot on your panties. 

“I think you were right.” Kyle says, resting his chin on Johnny’s shoulder, staring down at you as well. “She is ready.” 

“Fuck.” Johnny curses, reaching down to tug your panties off too. You suddenly feel exposed, spread open before them. It’s been a long time since you’ve brought a stranger home from the bar, much less two. 

“She’s thinking too much.” Kyle says, pushing Johnny to the side so he can kneel down in front of you. He tugs your hips until they rest right on the edge of the bed, tossing your legs over his shoulders. The halo on your head shifts at the movement, nearly coming off. You’re still wearing your costume. 

So are they. 

“Then ye best fix that.” Johnny says, pulling his shirt over his head. 

You want to stare at his exposed skin, but you’re distracted as Kyle’s tongue drags through your folds. He knows what he’s doing, applying just enough pressure to make your pussy clench. No time is wasted as he dives right in, his mouth closing over your clit as he slurps at your drenched pussy. He’s like a starving man, pushing his tongue into your hole before licking his way back up to your clit, tasting every inch of you that he can. It’s like only you can satiate him and his need, his hands curling around your thighs to keep you pressed up against his face with no fear of suffocation or drowning. That’s a good thing, because with the way you’re gushing on his face, that may be an actual fear. 

The bed dips as Johnny kneels behind you, crawling up so his knees are beside your head. You tilt your head back, expecting a cock in your face but instead you’re surprised to find him still in his briefs. He’s hard and bulging through the fabric, but still covered nonetheless. His hands land on your chest, slowly dragging down to your breasts. He palms them over your shirt, his thumbs circling over your nipples through the fabric. 

“Johnny loves a good pair of tits.” Kyle says, pulling away for just a moment before his lips wrap around your clit again. 

Your hips jerk, another moan leaving your lips as Kyle gets back to work. Johnny finally relieves you of the angel wings, pulling the elastic down your arms before tossing the cheap cardboard and feathers to the side. His hands slide over your breasts again before trailing downward to the bottom of your shirt. His fingers curl around the fabric, yanking it up, somehow managing to pull your bra with it. Your halo comes off with your shirt and you half expect it to hit the floor with the wings, but instead Johnny pushes it back onto your head. Your shirt and bra get tossed to the floor with the rest of your clothes. 

You’re the only one fully naked, and for some reason that leaves you feeling very exposed. 

You don’t get much of a chance to dwell on that tickling still itching in the back of your mind as Johnny’s hands brush your skin again, his palms cupping your breasts. He leans over you, a set of dog tags hanging in your face. You stare up at them as they dangle over you, swinging back and forth as Johnny massages your breasts. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ tits I’ve ever seen.” He groans, squeezing them gently. 

You glance down, just catching the look Kyle gives him as he licks another line up your slit. 

A yelp leaves your lips as Johnny’s fingers tug on your nipple, a yelp of surprise more than pain. It feels good, something you’ve never been able to feel there before. Then again, everything feels good right now. 

They play your body like an instrument, Johnny teasing your breasts while Kyle licks and sucks on your pussy. They’re so intune with each other, Johnny’s fingers almost a mirror of Kyle’s mouth. It’s almost eerie how they intuitively seem to know what the other is doing, and how to make you feel the most pleasure. 

They’ve done this before. 

Your slick is soaking your comforter but you don’t care, too busy being caught up in the waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You’re just getting started and already your toes are curling, heels digging into Kyle’s back as you get closer and closer to the edge. You’ve never felt this way with anyone else, an energy thrumming beneath your skin. You feel electric, you feel alive. 

“Gonna cum!” You gasp, heels digging harder into Kyle’s back. He offers no complaint, sucking harder on your clit. 

Johnny tugs on your nipples at the same time, intensifying the sensation as your back arches, cumming all over Kyle’s face. He licks up every last drop, pushing you almost to the point of overstimulation. It’s burning deep within you, your fingers curling around the comforter as you pant, sweat starting to bead on your skin. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. 

He finally gives you some relief, pulling away from your pussy before you can reach that point of the uncomfortable sensation becoming pleasurable again. It was right there, right on the edge but you’re denied that feeling as he sits back on his heels. His face is shiny with your slick as he lets your trembling legs drop so they’re hanging over the side of the bed. You can’t move, far too dizzy with pleasure still from your first orgasm. 

It’s only the first and you’re already feeling almost drunk on the sensation. 

“Good?” Kyle asks, pushing himself up to stand. 

You nod, still breathless. “Yeah. Yeah it was.” 

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips for a moment. “Taste good.” He licks his lips. “Sweet like sugar.” 

“I want a taste.” Johnny says, approaching Kyle. 

For a moment you think he’s going to dip down between your legs next, but instead his hand closes around the back of Kyle’s neck, pulling his face close. Johnny’s tongue licks at Kyle’s skin, lapping at your shiny juices still coating his face. Kyle offers no complaint, his lips parted as Johnny licks him. It ends in a kiss, all tongues and teeth as their bodies press tightly together. Your toes curl again, pussy throbbing at the sight of them together. 

You could probably get off just watching them together. 

Kyle’s hands slide down Johnny’s sides to his ass, pulling their bodies closer. They grind against each other, Johnny almost whining into Kyle’s mouth. You’re more than happy to watch them together, leaning up on your elbows so you can see them better. 

“We’re neglecting our date.” Kyle says against Johnny’s lips. 

“That’s not very kind of us.” Johnny responds, pressing another searing kiss to Kyle’s lips before they turn to look at you. 

You gulp, suddenly feeling very small under their gaze as they stare at you like two hungry predators. Excitement thrums under your skin at the promises their eyes hold. The foreplay was exactly that, a warm up for what is to come. 

You’ll certainly be doing a lot of that tonight. 

They break apart, the bulges between their legs prominent as they stand before you. 

“Tell us where ye want us, hen.” Johnny says, stepping up closer so he can drag his fingers over your thigh. Goosebumps form on your skin from the soft drag of his calloused fingers against the sensitive skin. 

Your eyes dart between them a couple times, your pussy fluttering at the ideas flashing through your head. 

One on each shoulder. 

“One in front, one in back.” You stutter out, another rush of arousal coursing through you. 

“Fuck yes!” Johnny cheers, pulling away from you to drop his briefs instantly. 

“You just made his night, love.” Kyle grins, face still shiny from a mix of your cum and Johnny’s saliva. 

Johnny’s briefs land somewhere as Kyle begins to undress, pulling his shirt over his head. You take the opportunity to truly look at them. They’re both fit and muscular, Johnny thicker and broader than Kyle’s lean figure. Kyle’s muscles flex as he reaches down, undoing his belt and jeans, giving you a good look at his abs. You lick your lips, watching his pants fall and then his briefs. 

Both of them are still wearing their devil horns, but neither of them make a move to take them off. 

“Lube?” Johnny asks. 

“Drawer.” You say, pointing with your toes towards the dresser. 

Johnny opens the top drawer, letting out a groan when he sees your panties. 

“You’re going to lose a pair.” Kyle says, maneuvering you on the bed. He’s finally naked, cock hanging heavy between his legs. He’s almost perfectly built, thicker than he is long with a little curve. 

Your pussy gushes at the sight of him. 

He’s perfect. 

He gives you a grin, something shivering down your spine as you stare at him. Warning bells are going off in your head, but they’re too drowned out by the need pulsing in your brain. Kyle lays himself out on the bed, fisting his cock in his hand. He relaxes back against the pillows, slowly pumping his cock as he stares at you with lidded eyes. You kneel between his legs, batting his hand away so you can wrap yours around his length. You lean down, dropping a glob of spit onto the tip of his cock before spreading it on his skin with your hand to lessen the friction. 

You meet his gaze again, a shiver running down your spine as you find yourself captivated in those deep brown eyes. They look almost black in the light of the lamp on your desk behind you. They opted for that light instead of the overhead one. You don’t think too much about it. You always hate the bright fluorescent overhead light anyway. 

The bed dips behind you as Johnny kneels on the mattress, his hands maneuvering you so you’re on your knees, your ass in the air. His hands smooth over your ass as you continue lazily pumping Kyle’s cock. The cool drip of lube on your ass makes you jump, your hand squeezing around Kyle for a moment. He lets out a groan, his head thumping back against the headboard. You keep that pressure as Johnny’s finger circles your hole, spreading the lube around the tight ring of muscle. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, trying not to squeeze your hand any tighter around Kyle’s cock as Johnny pushes the tip of his finger past that ring of muscle. More lube hits your ass as his finger sinks deeper and deeper in. 

You’re going to need more than one finger, from the glimpse you caught of his cock. 

You close your lips around Kyle’s tip as Johnny continues to work you open on his fingers, pushing a second one in with more lube. He’s cautious and gentle, something you wouldn’t have expected from such an eager man. 

Just the fact he’s even prepping you is shocking enough. Then again, they seem more than eager to be the ones giving you pleasure over themselves. 

“Ye like that?” He groans, pushing his fingers into your hole. “Feel good?” 

“Mhm.” You moan around Kyle’s cock, pushing back against his hand as he pushes in a third finger. 

Your pussy continues to drip, your entire body clenching around his fingers as he sinks them in as deep as he can. You take Kyle as deep as you can into your mouth, his back arching up off your pillows as he moans. It’s the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard, like angels singing. 

“Screamin’ Jesus.” Johnny groans. He pulls his free before slapping a hand down on your ass. “Go sit on Kyle’s cock for me.” 

You release Kyle’s cock, licking your lips before doing what you’re told. You scramble up over Kyle’s hips eagerly, taking his cock in your hand again. 

“Hi, love.” He grins up at you. 

You can only let out a groan in response as you line his cock up, slowly lowering yourself onto him. He’s perfect, stretching you open deliciously. It burns a bit, but you don’t care as you continue to work him into your dripping pussy. Your legs are shaking already by the time you’re seated completely on him, your hands pressing against his lower stomach to keep yourself upright. He’s solid under your hands, but his skin is warm, almost hot under your touch. 

He’s still staring up at you with those lidded eyes, his hands sliding to your thighs. “Good girl.” He grunts as you squeeze around him, his fingers digging into your thighs like he’s trying to hold himself back. 

Maybe he is. 

Johnny’s hand pushes between your shoulder blades, bending you down so you’re resting against Kyle’s chest. It moves his cock inside of you, a breathy moan leaving your lips at the change in position. Kyle releases his grip on your thighs, instead lifting his arms to wrap around your back. It feels intimate, the way he holds you. Far too intimate for just a one night stand. 

Your fingers lift to brush the dog tags around Kyle’s neck. He’s wearing them too, the metal shockingly cold despite the furnace-like warmth of his body. You can’t read what’s on them in the dim light, but you don’t really care to know at the moment. 

Johnny’s hand slides down your spine, smearing lube across your skin but you don’t care. It’s the cool drip of more lube on your ass that pulls you from your daze, the bottle snapping shut before hitting the bed somewhere beside you. Something thicker than fingers presses against your hole, your body clenching in anticipation. Kyle lets out a groan, his hips pushing up against yours as you squeeze around him again. 

“Relax for me.” Johnny groans, pushing the tip of his cock against your hole. 

You let out a long breath, willing your body to relax as much as you can. Johnny’s hand presses against the base of your spine, Kyle’s arms still holding you against his chest. His lips press against your forehead, something tingling against Johnny’s hand as you find yourself relaxing more and more. 

A breathy moan leaves your lips as the head of his cock presses into your ass, stretching you despite the prep he’d given you. He’s so thick, almost spearing you open as he rocks his hips, pushing more and more of his cock into your tight ass. Kyle stays still, holding your body as Johnny continues to work his way in. He’s so thick you can feel every inch of Kyle’s cock inside of your pussy. You can’t do anything but lay there and moan in pleasure from the mix of sensations. 

There’s a moment of silence, a deep breath as Johnny’s hips meet your ass. You’ve never been quite so full before, not like this, not so perfectly. They’re perfect, fitting into you like a glove, hitting every spot you could ever want them to. 

It’s almost too perfect. 

The thought is erased from your mind as Johnny begins to rock his hips, Kyle’s arms tightening around you as you begin to move against his chest. 

“Fucking christ.” Johnny breathes as you squeeze around him, pussy clenching as Kyle begins to move under you. 

“Bloody hell, love.” Kyle groans, pushing his hips up into yours, finding the rhythm of pushing in as Johnny pulls out. 

Your nails bite into the skin of his chest as the pleasure continues to build. You were worked up before they stuck their cocks in you, and now having them both inside of you is almost too much. 

Johnny bends over your back, changing the position of his thrusts. It pushes his cock against Kyle’s inside of you, pushing Kyle against that spot, his cock dragging against it with every movement of his hips. Johnny’s dog tags drag across your skin as he thrusts into you, the metal cool despite the moist heat of your bodies beginning to warm the room. Goosebumps erupt on your skin from the dual sensations, the warmth of their bodies, the cold of the metal against your back, the push and pull of their hips. It’s all so perfect. 

They do the work for you, playing your body like an instrument again with that uncanny understanding of each other. Kyle’s cock pushes in as Johnny’s pulls out, keeping you on the precipice of pleasure as they fill you completely. You’re rendered helpless as you lay there, unable to do anything but moan as your second orgasm of the night continues to build. Your entire body is trembling and twitching, all of your weight resting entirely on Kyle, but he offers no complaint. 

It doesn’t seem to bother him at all. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You squeal as Johnny picks up the pace, thrusting into you so hard your headboard begins to knock against the wall. Kyle’s arms tighten around you, holding you still and using you for leverage as he thrusts up into you. “Please, please, please...” You repeat it like a mantra, your entire body on fire with pleasure. 

Something tickles in the back of your mind, getting stronger and stronger the more you get closer to your orgasm. You can’t place it, you don’t care to, as your body writhes with pleasure. 

“That’s it.” Johnny groans, “Fucking take it!” 

“Gonna cum for us?” Kyle grunts, still thrusting up into you. “Gonna give it to us?” 

“Yes! Yes!” You cry, your back arching as you push yourself up against Kyle’s chest. 

The light behind you on your desk casts your shadows along the wall behind the bed. Your eyes watch the way they move and dance as you push yourself up so your back is against Johnny’s chest. Kyle’s arms drop from around you as you push yourself back, the new angle nearly blinding you with pleasure. 

The halo still on your head rocks forward and backward almost violently as Johnny continues to drive his hips against your ass. His arms wrap around you, holding you up against his chest. 

Perhaps it’s the pleasure numbing your mind, but you swear the room starts to get darker, the shadows lengthening as you stare at the dancing shadows on the wall. Johnny’s hand reaches up, tugging the halo from your head, letting it fall to the floor. 

You’re frozen there, captivated as his shadow almost seems to get bigger, the fake horns still on his head starting to lengthen and twist. Something unfurls from his back, spreading across the wall as the shadows continue to press inward around you. 

Wings. They look like wings. 

White hot pleasure blinds you as Johnny pushes your face down into Kyle’s shoulder, his own body folding over your back. You’re sandwiched between them, unable to do anything but take the pleasure they’re bringing you. Your clit drags against Kyle’s stomach as he gives over control to Johnny, letting Johnny’s thrusts rock you on his cock. Your hand curls around Kyle’s dog tags, the metal still somehow cold against your fingers. They feel bigger now, thicker and wider than what they had looked like. 

No, there’s not two of them anymore. 

It’s one pendant on the chain, some kind of pattern imprinted on the smooth metal. Your fingers trail over the smooth surface, tracing the raised lines. You can’t tell what it is, far too lost in pleasure to rationalize what is happening. Kyle’s hand wraps around your wrist, pulling it from his dog tags. He uses it to pull you up, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss. Warmth floods your body at the press of his lips, your mind starting to go fuzzy. 

“That’s it.” Johnny groans, grinding against your ass. “Give it to us.” 

Your ears begin to ring as more and more pleasure builds, drool slipping out from your lips as you pull away from Kyle, your entire body tingling. There’s something coming, something building within you so strong you almost can’t take it. It’s too much, it’s not enough, it’s not coming fast enough. 

“Come on.” Johnny says, pushing himself up just slightly to drive his hips downward against your ass. 

You nearly let out a scream as the pleasure hits you all at once, fluid gushing out of you and soaking Kyle’s lower body. Your entire body writhes and shudders between them, the pleasure never seeming to end as Johnny continues thrusting almost violently against you. Kyle’s hands reach up, gripping your hips as he moans, his head falling back. You’re squeezing around them so tightly you’re shocked at how Johnny is still moving. 

“That’s it.” Johnny groans. “That’s it.” 

You feel like you’re floating, barely registering the way Johnny and Kyle kiss over your shoulder, groaning against each other’s lips. Your body twitches as you get further and further away, almost floating right out of your body. You’re exhausted, the energy and life draining right out of you as you milk their cocks of their own cum. It’s hot as it spurts inside of you, filling you up almost impossibly full. 

Kyle’s hand presses against the back of your head, his voice low in your ear. “Sleep.” 

You’re hungover. 

You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes as you lay there on your stomach. Your head is throbbing, body weak as you groan in annoyance. You forgot to close the curtain last night. 

The sun is streaming in, warming your room. It smells like sex, your skin still sticky with sweat. Memories from the previous night begin to fill your mind as you come more and more into awareness. It barely feels real, almost like last night was a dream. Did you really catch the attention of those two beautiful men at the bar? Did you really bring them home and fuck them both? 

It feels like a dream, it might have been a dream. 

You crack your eyes open, letting out a groan. You are alone, the only remnant of the night before the scent of them still lingering in the air. They smelled good, sweet and musky, so strong you could almost taste it. They smelled good, even sweaty from the heat and exertion.

You can still feel their touch like a phantom left behind in your memory. The brush of their lips and fingers, Kyle’s head between your legs, the fullness of your body as they fucked you into one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had. It was addicting. You’re not sure you’ll ever be able to feel as satisfied as you did last night, even with the way your head is throbbing and your body feels drained of all energy.  

It was all so perfect. 

It must have been a dream. You had too much to drink and fell asleep dreaming about two perfect men fucking you to the point you couldn’t remember your own name. There’s no way two men were such perfect matches for you and for each other. Perfection doesn’t exist. 

You roll over onto your back, your limbs heavy with exhaustion. How long had the three of you gone last night? You can’t remember much past your first orgasm. You’re not even sure you remember your first orgasm. 

It must have been a dream. 

Something catches your eye as you roll over, tugging the blanket up around your chin. You squint through the blurriness and the haze of exhaustion, staring at your nightstand. peripheral vision

No, it wasn't a dream. 

It was very real. 

There's a set of dog tags sitting on your nightstand. 

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[tomahachi12]

What's the story behind your drone-sona? Since she has the Cabin Fever tag, I was curious what's the story behind her.

BUCKLE UP, IT'S A LONG ONE (some of this is headcanon crap, so not all info would be show accurate)

Toma (012) was a just regular worker drone working within the offices of the JCJenson Mining Facility.

The area of the offices she worked in had drones split into small groups to complete larger projects. She was part of the group which included Nori (002), Yeva (048) and Alice (017) (I LOVE THEM LEAVE ME ALONE).

She was usually tasked with taking paperwork back and forth between her group to turn in or for them to work on, something she was.. pretty bad at.

Because of Nori's shenanigans, their group often got in trouble with the humans.

At some point, Drones began to be selected from a lottery pool to be transferred to the lower levels of the facility. At first, the Humans would play this off as a "promotion" of sorts in order to keep the drones from becoming suspicious of their intentions and keep their minds at ease.

As time went on, the humans dropped the façade and the drones began to fear these selections, given that the chosen drones were never seen or heard from again after being selected.

Eventually, Toma's ID was drawn as the next to go. (she was chosen first out of their group, next was Alice, then Yeva and Nori was the last)

Toma was taken down the Cabin Fever Labs to be used in the "Solver" experiments.

When she was infected with the Solver Program, it took her over instantly. She was quickly given an early version of the patch (1.5.8) before causing too much damage.

The effect of the Solver's code on her body left her lethargic and forgetful. Since she was patched early, she cannot use the solver, but still suffers from it's effects; occasional possession, the need to consume oil, ect..

Not being able to provide much information for their research, the humans mostly kept her bound in her locker. Sometimes they even forgot she was in there.

Before the core collapse, she was able to escape her chains and wondered around the mines for a minute before the eventual implosion.

She was blown out the facility and somehow managed to survive, not only the blast, but even the crash back down to the planet. Though it knocked her offline for a time, causing anyone that found her to think she was dead.

RIP Toma lol

After she eventually woke up, she stayed put for a few months, hiding out in the outer buildings of the facility until she was found by another worker drone.

This drone invited Toma to join his colony, Outpost 9. She agreed and followed him to the base (wow Toma, ever heard of stranger danger gdamn..)

Toma was welcomed in this colony and she lived there for several years, learning how to live a life free from human-control. She was even able to pick up an old hobby she was never allowed to do back at the offices, drawing.

The nightmares gave her plenty to draw anyway.

Eventually, it all went to shit when the Murder Drones showed up, popped that base open like a soda can, and killed everyone inside.

Toma's solver kept her hidden long enough her to escape unnoticed. She needed somewhere to go and began to make her way toward the city she saw in the distance.

( oh hi, Y )

It took a while but she made it to the City only to find, you guessed it, more Murder Drones. She somehow managed to dodge them as well and found her way to some very large doors that resembled the ones back at her old colony. She frantically banged on the doors, shouting for help as she Murder Drones closed in on her.

The doors suddenly cracked open and a hand reached out, grabbing hold of Toma's coat and pulled her inside before slamming shut again.

She was met by a group of drones all sitting around a table, seemingly playing cards. The drone that pulled her in helped her up to her feet. After checking if she was alright, he introduced himself as "Khan" the apparent leader of this colony. Outpost 3.

She was welcomed in` just as warmly as she was in her last colony, and settled in easily, but soon found this colony was quite.. different from her old one. There were.. "kids" running around, and "babies" and... "teenagers".. Some drones were even married.

She also found out that every adult drones had to contribute to their society as well, unless they were raising children. Everyone had a job, and Toma was expected to have one as well.

She decided to join the Worker Defense Force, mostly as "watchman". She was tasked with doing patrols around the colony, looking out for any potential problems or weak points that could cause a breach.

She was pretty bad at it since she kept falling asleep while on patrol or forgetting where she was suppose to be.

The others were very forgiving toward her, though, but they figured she needed a different job.

After taking note of her interest in art, she was given the job as the new Art Teacher for the school.

Now if only she could stop falling asleep in class..

TL;DR/I only looked at the pretty pictures:

Toma was part of the Solver Experiments and now lives at Outpost 3 as the resident dumbass Art Teacher.

[pleaselmhau]

Random scenario I’ve been thinking about of single parent reader

Accidental-boyfriend-and-stepdad-Ghost who had fuck all to do in between deployments. He spent his time wasting away. half at the pub near his dingy flat and the other half in said dingy flat. His fingers curl around the cool glass containing his bourbon. He knew he probably looked like a intimidating, sitting on the absolute end of the bar up against the wall with his hood up, but hey, at least he wasn’t wearing his mask in a civilian pub. That surely would raise a few alarm bells, a jacked, 6’4 man in a mask is probably the line drawn where civilians might start to freak. Not many people really bother him here, that’s why he likes it. He always found people watching occasionally interesting, as long as he could sit back and stay uninvolved.

So he’s a little more than surprised when sweet, attractive you pops right up next to him all sugary smiles and batting lashes. It becomes clear quickly with how your hand brushes against his bicep and you keep giving them flirty looks that you were looking for a fling. A one time hookup. It’s been awhile since he’d fucked so even though you aren’t his usual type, he bites. Not his usual type not in that he doesn’t find you attractive, he does, it’s more he thinks you’re out of his league- or rather out of your element. You seem a little too friendly, chatty even. It’s nothing really in particular that you do, he can just tell you’re the type to get attached. Though you did approached first so maybe he’s wrong, he decides.

The hookup is rather run of the mill at first, sloppy make out session from the front door to the bedroom. Both of you bumping into various furniture and walls as you lead him through your small apartment. His foot brushes against some hard object on the floor but he pays it no mind, too wrapped up in how you’re kissing him like he’s the air you need to breathe. You’re so full of life, passion, it nearly flusters him. But he is nothing if not adaptable, so once close enough to the bedroom he can see where you two are heading he just leans down and scoops you right up with one arm around your thighs. Faster, more efficient. It takes a mere nudge of his shoulder and lean before you’re falling back on the bed and he’s following you. His mouth slots over yours again, hot and heavy. Your hands tug at his shirt and he obliges, letting you pull the fabric off. It’s dim in your bedroom, only the moonlight filtering in through the window but he can see your silhouette clearly when he pulls back your last layer of clothing, and fuck is it a pretty sight.

He didn’t mean to spend the night, he really didn’t. But when you were bouncing on his lap, pressing fresh kisses to his throat after two rounds already he knew it was gonna be a long night. He wakes to find you draped all over him, wrapped up in the sheets like you’re trying to be some renaissance painting. He squeezes his eyes shut for a few moments, blinking away the grogginess of just waking up. Never being one to just lounge around in bed he detangles your limbs from around him and slips out. Bending down he retrieves his clothes, tugging his pants and shirt. When he has all his things he risks a glance back, hoping you’re not awake, he’s never really been good at the whole morning after shit, always preferring to leave during the night. Though for some reason the way you were all over him, the way you clung and kissed at him like he was the only man in the world made him want to revel in it, in you, long enough until he simply was too tired to consider leaving last night. His eyes flicker over you for a moment as if he’s subconsciously trying to commit you to memory, maybe he’ll meet you again sometime at the pub, he wouldn’t mind a repeat, but he’s not staying. Or so he thinks because as soon as he steps out the bedroom he’s met with the sound of two small feet pitter pattering on the floor then big eyes staring up at him.

His brows furrow in confusion, he didn’t notice a kid last night, actually he’s sure there wasn’t any kids in the apartment last night. For a long few moments he just stares down at the kid, not sure what really to do. The little girl, probably no older than ten stares right back up at him. “Can you make pancakes?” She asks, head tilting a little in curiosity. “Uh.. sure.” As she leads him through the living room he realizes what he kicked last night was her toys scattered about the floor.

So now he’s in the kitchen with Lily, as he found out the little girls name was, sitting on the counter. He figured out her aunt watched her last night and brought her home this morning. shes stirring up the batter as he puts butter into a pan. “You’re a friend of mom’s/dad’s?” She asks, stirring maybe a little harder than need be. “Something like that,” he responds, dipping in a random measuring cup then pouring the batter onto the pan. He can hear her still stirring even after. “that means we’re friends now too right?” She asks. He glances over taking in her kiddish hopeful expression and finds himself nodding immediately. “Yeah, we’re friends now too.” He responds, trying to not sound so flat. Truthfully he hasn’t a clue what he’s doing or what he should do. He tries to put himself in your shoes, how weird it’d be to stumble out and see your one-night stand still here cooking breakfast with your daughter. Though at the same time it feels rude too to just dismiss her.

When the pancakes are done he watches her jump off the counter and scamper over to the lower cabinet, pulling out a tray. “Well bring mom/dad some too!” She announces, grabbing at the pancakes with her hands and plopping them on the plate. Once the tray is all made up, a few pancakes stacked and a glass of orange juice she picks it up again. “You helped make it so you have to come too,” then she’s waddling off back toward the same bedroom he woke up in, orange juice splashing out of the glass in her excitement. He wonders if he should just slip out now while Lily is distracted, though he finds himself following, opening the door for her then watching as she pushes the tray right on the bed next to you before jumping on it and pressing her hands into your shoulder to shake you awake. He stands in the doorway awkwardly, watching the scene with a hint of… well he doesn’t really know. Warmth? A breakfast in bed from Ghost and your daughter wasn’t really what you were expecting when you woke up, though you can’t help but to smile as you see the jagged pancakes and half filled orange juice, rest on the tray itself.

The three of you spend the rest of the morning watching movies until it’s late enough that the three of you end up going out for lunch. Then end up making dinner together. And Ghost realizing maybe being off duty wouldn’t be so bad if he had a family to come home too and seems the perfect one was placed right in his hands.

Sorry if this is word vomit it’s very late and I was just swooning over the idea of Ghost with single parent reader

[not-rigel]

Admit Defeat

warnings: smut, facesitting, fingering, bottom! sevika (if you squint), lots of flirting, y'all are in love, sub! sevika (if you squint), yearning, lesbians being lesbians

work count: 4k

MEN AND MINORS DNI

You don't remember who made the first move. You don't know what you had done to get Sevika to return your feelings. At some point, the two of you switched from only speaking in work-appropriate conversations to constantly flirting. The switch was far from gradual, a near overnight shift in dynamic. For weeks,  Sevika has been laying the charm on thick and you've been returning the banter. 

Tonight was no different. The two of you inside the near empty Last Drop, chatting over a game of billiards. Billiards isn't yours or Sevika's typical game but watching her bend over the table was too tempting a sight to pass up. 

“I ever tell you about the time I almost bled out?” Sevika says, chalking up her cue. 

“Just one time? That's a little boring, Sevika,” you tease. 

“I'd have to be stabbed to be bleeding, and you know how often that happens.” 

The answer was seldom. Sevika got into plenty of fights, but most ended with her mechanical claws in her opponent's gut. Never the other way around.  

“Go on. Tell me,” you urge. She finishes chalking her cue and sets it down on the edge of the table. Your eyes follow her as she walks around the table, searching for her shot. She studies the eleven ball, considering the difficulty. 

“Eleven, back left pocket,” she calls. She bends down to line up the shot. But instead of taking it, she begins her story. 

“I was at the harbor, the smaller one, on personal business-” 

“You were gambling,” you interrupted, leaning your weight to rest your hip onto the table. You watch Sevika's eyes follow your movement. 

Sevika shakes her head, “It was for personal business. Needed new plating for my arm, one that can withstand higher temperatures. I heard from a trusted source-” 

“At the brothel,” you interrupted again. She still hasn't taken the shot. Still bent over the table, cue lined to hit but her arm hasn't drawn back yet. 

Sevika laughs at your correction, “I heard at the brothel that someone was looking to trade down at the harbor. I went down there with an alright gun. Wanted to be rid of it anyway. I get there looking for the guy and I find he's got four other people with him, fucking bruisers by the looks of it.” 

Sevika takes a break in her story to finally take her shot, the eleven ball gliding across the felt and into the pocket she called prior. She stands, walking over to where you're leaning against the table. She smirks as she draws closer to you, stopping just close enough for you to feel her body heat. You look up at her, gaze dropping to her lips for a moment before moving back up to her eyes. 

“It's your turn again,” you tell her. You tilt your head toward the table, not breaking eye contact. 

“You're standing in front of my shot.” 

“My bad,” you playfully shrug, taking a large enough step back. Sevika immediately fills the space, stepping even closer to you than she was before. Another centimeter and your chests would be touching. 

Up this close, you'd have to crane your neck to make eye contact. But since you can't find it in you to look away from her lips, you don't have to look as far up.  Her tongue creeps from her parted lips and wets her bottom lip, surely to tease you. 

“As I was saying,” Sevika continues, aware you're watching each word, “I don't pay attention to the other guys, figured if I didn't treat them like a threat they weren't gonna fuck with me. And it worked for the most part. I get through the trade with my guy, no issues. I'm thinking it's over so I shake his hand, close the deal and wait for him and his goons to leave, cause I'm not gonna turn my back on them.” 

You nod, trying to follow along with her story but your attention is divided between how her lips quirk up into a smirk every other sentence. You loved this side of Sevika, the side that can't stop talking. The side that loves sharing her time with other people. The side that is heartfelt and open. 

“You still listening?” She says, pulling your thoughts away from her mouth and secret softness.

“Just skip to the good part,” you huff. You're not impatient and you could listen, and watch, her talk for hours. But the attraction between the two of you was a few degrees warmer tonight. You can't afford to overheat, especially since you work together. 

“Right. The good part. They think I'm looking for a fight so they jump me. I handled them fine enough, taking a few punches. Was focused on keeping them off of me. One of ‘em came charging at me with a knife, no fucking clue where he got it from, and aims right at my ribs. I wasn't really thinking, I just pushed his arm down. Fucking slashed my thigh open,” she continued. She bent over the table again and this time you could see her back muscles ripple underneath her shirt. 

You shift your hips slightly, so they brush against her side. 

“Can I see?” You ask. 

She stood up without taking her shot, taking a step to trap you between herself and the table, “I'd have to take off my pants.” 

“Sounds good to me.” 

She chuckles, “Thought you'd let me kiss you before trying to get me undressed.” 

This was the moment one of you would usually chicken out, coughing up a practiced excuse. But tonight was different. Seizing a confidence you've never held in your life before, you close the little distance there is between you. 

“Kiss me, then take your pants off.”

“Thank fuck,” she sighs. 

She reaches her right hand out, cupping your cheek and guides you to her mouth. There is a moment of hesitation from her, when your lips are a hair away. A chance for you to withdraw. But you won't take it. You push up on your tiptoes, smashing your lips into hers. 

Sevika hasn't felt genuine attraction like this in years. Her body feels like it moves on its own accord. Doing the opposite of what she usually does in situations like these. Fingers tracing over skin instead gripping. Tongue feeling the softness of your lips instead of claiming. Heart beating wildly out of her chest instead of being steady. 

Her chemtech arm holds you by your waist. Between her hips pressing into yours, the table behind you and her arm holding you up, you still feel like you'll melt right to the floor. 

Needing more purchase, you wrap your arms around her neck. Her hair tickles your fingertips and you need to feel more of the soft strands. When you tangle your fingers into her hair she shudders, her knees go weak and weight shifts to rest on you.

You take the time to kiss down her neck, feeling her breaths catch in her throat. Feeling her skin vibrate with her moans. When your lips press onto her pulse point you can feel her erratic heartbeat. It almost overwhelms you, how much she softens for you. 

You're surprised when she guides your hands from her hair down to her breast. Without any hesitation, you fondle her breasts, thumbs rubbing over where you know her nipples are. She's letting out moans above you, the sounds deep and throaty. 

She gasps out a ‘wait’ and you pull your hands and face away.  After she catches her breath she asks if you want to go back to her place.

She's staring deep into your eyes and you regret having looked at her mouth so much tonight. She has the prettiest eyes you've even seen, the most enchanting shade of gray you've ever seen. Like a thundercloud full of heavy rain, her eyes always held back a rough storm. Usually she's unreadable, but right now you know exactly what she wants. 

“Mine is probably closer,” you offer. 

At that Sevika nods, muttering out a soft “Take me.” 

You grab her hand and lead her out the Last Drop and in the direction of your apartment. It's far closer than Sevika's, hardly a five minute walk. Three minutes if you were really in a rush. You make it home in two and a half. 

It's a simple studio apartment, small but well within your needs. 

Once you step inside, she grabs you from underneath your ass, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around her torso. Your hands find their way into her hair, fingers dancing on her scalp. You needed her weak for you, and she was falling apart at the seams the more you touched her. She carries you over to the bed, hiding in the corner of your apartment. She sits down on your bed with you sitting on her lap.

Her hands grab at your shirt, shoving the offending fabric over your breasts until you break the kiss to pull your top over your head. You return to the kiss the moment your shirt is discarded behind you, pushing Sevika down into the mattress. She gasps into your mouth as her back thuds against the bed. 

Her hands are flat against your lower back, inching downwards to slip her fingertips beneath the band of your pants. Sevika guides your hips to grind over hers. You rut your hips into her, no rhythm or pace set. 

"You've got such a pretty face," you tell her. "You wouldn't want me to sit on it, would you?" It's something you've been waiting to experience, waiting for the right person. If there was anyone you wanted it with, without hesitation, it's Sevika. 

"I've been waiting for you to say that for so fucking long," Sevika laughs. You laugh with her, finding humor is how long you've spent dancing around each other. 

You roll off of her lap onto your back to shimmy off your pants and underwear. Within seconds, Sevika is sitting up to help you out of your clothes. You lift your hips and she pulls your pants and underwear down on one try. 

Seeing you near fully naked, Sevika admires your body. Every curve is in its perfect place. Every scar is like fine details painted into your skin. Each blemish makes you more and more of a masterpiece. She always thought you were breathtaking but the word felt much more literal now. Breathing was wasted energy, anything other than pouring her full attention into admiring you was useless to her. 

“Sevika… you're staring,” you said under your breath. 

“I- I'm going to die tonight,” she sighs, leaning down to press kisses to your shoulder. She kisses your shoulder until she's grounded herself, no longer lost in passion boiling over in her head. 

“I need you on my face. Now,” she says against your shoulder. 

“Patience.” 

“Fuck that. I need you. I can't wait anymore.” 

She grabs your hips, flipping you over to straddle her waist. She unclasps your bra, pulling the straps off your shoulders. 

“You're still dressed,” you gasped, trying to find an excuse to slow her down. 

“We'll get to that later. Sit on my fucking face.” She grabs at your hips trying to pull you up and shimmy herself down. You admit defeat when she pouts. 

You crawl up her body and place one knee to the left side of her head before swinging the other over her head. You don't sit down on her face yet, shifting your hips back to hover over her shoulders. 

“Fuck, please sit on my face. I can't wait.” her hands grab your thighs, metal and flesh fingers alike digging into you.  

You're ready to give yourself to her, but you're stopped by the look in her eyes. This time she's the one to take your breath away. 

You reach down and stroke her cheek, “You're so pretty.” 

Her hands loosen their grip on your hips, thumbs stroking your skin.

“You're beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful,” she whispered. The moment was so fragile but nothing could break how she felt for you. 

You feel the need to say something in return but the only words that come to mind are about how you're falling for her. And you can't give yourself away just yet. So you shift your hips over her face. Before you take your seat, you notice that you've forgotten a step in your haste. 

“Wait, we need a safe signal.”

“Like I'd fucking tap out,” she rasps, frustrated that you're so close but just out of reach. 

“Still, we need one.” 

“Fine. I'll tap you twice if I need you off. That work?” 

“That works,” you nod, shifting your hips to position right over her mouth. 

“Oh fuck, thank you.” She sighs before you lower your cunt onto her mouth. 

She starts with kisses to your folds, breathing in your scent while she can still breathe. Her lips press kisses everywhere she can reach, mostly over your labia. Her nose nudges right beneath your clit and you drag your hips back to get her right where you need her. Nose now bumping against your clit, your thighs clench from the added simulation. 

You can feel the tension, built up on months of pent up emotions, dissolving with each pass of her tongue. The tension melts down, collecting inside of you and waiting to be released. Her kisses become open-mouthed as your arousal coats her lips. You jerk your hips, moving your clit over her mouth. She licks around the bud, feeling it twitch and beg to be touched. 

Looking down, you can see her eyes are closed, eyes rolled back behind her lips. Her tongue swipes over your clit and you nearly throw your head back to moan, but you can't tear your eyes away from her. She looks too beautiful beneath you. It makes you feel like you're doing more than taking your own pleasure. It makes you feel like you're not on top, you're on your throne. Your insides clench again as she flicks her tongue over your clit. 

Sevika's hips squirm, trying to find some friction to calm the tension inside of her. Everything about you fuels how much she burns for you. She felt warm whenever you were around but with you filling her senses in this moment, she was close to combustion. She could distantly feel a liquid heat drip from her cunt. With each slow drip that leaked from her, her core coiled with excitement. 

Channeling her yearning into eating you out, she works her tongue over your clit. When you start to shift your hips again, she flattens her tongue letting you move wherever you please. 

You grab her by the hair, grinding onto her tongue to chase your orgasm. It's an orgasm you've been chasing everytime you've masterbated thinking about her. A fantasy that has been just out of reach, and even now it mocks you by running away. 

“Sev, I'm so close,” you choked out. 

You ride her tongue, desperation drowning out the aching in your muscles. Your thrusts are messy, but her tongue finds you each time. No matter where you move, Sevika is there. 

Your orgasm is done with being chased. It meets you, just the way you always imagined it would. It breaks the laws of physics, making gravity cease to exist. Your entire body is weightless as you gasp and choke out Sevika's name. Your grip on her hair is the only thing tying you to this world. 

When the world finally rights itself, gravity working as it should, you lift your weight off of her. Her hands pull your hips forward, setting your dripping hole over her mouth. There's so much more of you to be had and Sevika wasn't ready for the moment to end. 

She laps at your opening, groaning with every bit of cum she licks away. Your taste is even sweeter now, or maybe it was psychological. Sevika wouldn't put it past her to think you taste better after coming. You did things to her that she couldn't explain. 

She is pulled from her thoughts when you jerk your hips away and she detaches her lips. You swing a leg over her head and dismount inelegantly.

“Thank you,” she gasps after she catches her breath. When she no longer needs to gasp for air she takes a deep inhale through her nose, catching your lingering scent that coats her face. 

She doesn't have enough time to react before you straddle her hips and push at her top. You're surprised by your surge of energy but you'd be damned if you didn't return the favor. 

“Sev… Fucking strip for me,” you purr. 

She moans your name, hands reaching up to hold your face and bring you down for a kiss. You dodge the kiss, needing her naked for you. 

“Sevika, I want you. Please… you're too beautiful for me not to see.”  

That makes her heart skip a beat. Sevika doesn't accept compliments but you said that word like it's the truth. So she believed you. 

“Okay,” she nodded, her turn to admit defeat tonight. 

You lift off her lap, moving to unbutton her pants. She lifts her hips and you pull down the waist band. Her pants take more force than you expected to pull over her ass but after a couple tries, they slide all the way down to her knees. She begins to kick her pants down to her ankles then toes them off. 

“The scar is pretty obvious,” she says. You're confused for a moment then you remember why the two of you are in your bed in the first place. On her left thigh is a gash, a centimeter thick and 7 centimeters long. It was a deep cut, evident by how raised and pale the scar is. 

“Shit, that's really fucking bad. How'd you survive?” 

“Took two extra doses of shimmer. You'd be surprised by how life saving that shit can be.”

“Huh,” you shrug. She shifts her hips beneath you and you're back in the moment, forgetting her near death experience. Fuck the reason you finally got her into bed, you have her now and nothing else matters.

You are about to tug at her boxers when her chem tech arm reaches down and tears them apart with two tugs. You snort at her impatience. The amusement is soon gone when you see her cunt. Your imagination has failed you, she's prettier than any fantasy you've had. A trail of opaque, white cum leaking from her. 

“You fucking came?” you asked. 

“I can't control myself with you,” was the best explanation she could give. 

“Oh fuck,” you curse. You bend down to press kisses to her torso, trailing down the valley of her muscles. You don't care that you don't have her top off. If you were going to get your way tonight, it will be coming off eventually. But right now you want to feel her. 

You set your pace slow, kissing downwards to her thighs. She opens her legs, making space for you between them and you gladly take it. 

“Sevika, what do you want?” You doubt you could do anything she wouldn't want but it never hurts to be sure. 

Sevika stops to think for a moment. She imagined every single sexual scenario with you. So which one would she choose? A few crossed her mind but one made the coil of excitement return above the rest. The thought of your fingers, more slender and soft than hers, fucking her until she melts into nothing. 

“Finger me,” she pleads. Sevika keeps surprising you, using a desperate tone that goes against her character. 

“Oh shit, I'm going to fuck you so good,” you sighed. 

You get comfortable on your knees, intending to stay there as long as you can. You trail your fingers over her thighs, tracing words into her skin. You can't tell her that you're falling so you write it out. On her left thigh, ‘I love you” is etched. On her right thigh, “Stay with me” is drawn. 

“Stop tickling me, I need you inside me,” she whines. The sound almost kills you, her velvet voice whining for you to enter her. 

You trace your right hand over her thigh and toward her cunt, teasing just a little more. She gasps when you insert your middle finger. Maybe you do too, with how good she feels. You knew she was wet but what makes you lightheaded is how warm she is. 

Her whines no longer shock you, coming out of her with each slow stroke of your finger. Adding a second finger takes her moans up in pitch. Your fingers feel a thousand times better than she dreamed, non-calloused fingers pulling the coil inside her tighter. 

“More,” she pants. You don't want to leave her word up for interpretation so you ask for clarification. 

“More what? Another finger? Faster? Need me to rub your clit? Tell me,” you urged. 

“Faster! Touch my clit!” she gasps out. Sweat begins to coat her forehead. 

Your fingers pick up their speed, curling against her sweet spot. Without removing your fingers, you move over her right thigh, walking up on your knees before settling down. 

In this position you lay at her side, face next to hers and arm reaching down to finger her. Your palm rubs over her clit with each thrust. You dip your head down to attach your lips. She sighs into your mouth, lips parting to let you control the kiss. 

Everytime your lips meet, you find a new favorite way to kiss her. Now, you find you love biting her lip. She pants and moans into your mouth as her pussy squelches from your fingering. She sounds wetter with each thrust, your fingers gliding in with more and more ease. 

“Please,” she pants, “I'll make a mess.” 

It's your turn to groan into her mouth. That sentence was a threat and a promise. She shifts her hips nudging your fingers to the exact right spot. 

You feel her orgasm wet your fingers as she whimpers out your name. Nothing could've prepared you for how magical making Sevika squirt for you would be. Her breaths huffed into your mouth. Her thighs clamped around your hand. Her pussy leaked all over your fingers. 

After thirty seconds pass, her thighs unclench and you remove your hand. You bring it up to your lips but Sevika grabs your wrist before you can taste her. 

“Can we… I want us… I want to be yours.” Sevika says when she catches her breath. 

“As long as I can be yours.” 

She guides your wrist to your mouth and you take your coated fingers into your mouth. Her taste bursts over your tongue, earthy and slightly salty. You lick your fingers clean and commit her taste to memory. Not that you would never taste her again, but it's something you need to remember. Any moment spent not tasting her will be torture from now on. 

Sevika wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in to lay on her chest. You settle in, placing your head over her heart. The two of you hold each other, you're listening to her heartbeat steady itself. 

“Sorry about your sheets,” you hear her say, words rumbling in her chest. 

You sit up to inspect the damage. The image makes you laugh. Between her thighs is a little heart-shaped puddle. 

“I lo-” you stop before the words come out, “I don't care. It'll wash out.” 

You lay back down to cuddle her, “You came in a heart-shaped puddle, by the way.” 

Sevika snorts, not surprised that her body was outing her feelings for you. She presses a kiss to your forehead, settling for gratefulness that she didn't chicken out tonight. 

“Why did it take so long for us to do this?” you ask. 

“I was afraid you'd figure out that I'm in love with you,” she says. She meant to hide the words but they found their way out. Sevika loves the way you soften her, how you break away all the walls to her heart without trying. 

Your voice is a whisper when you speak, “Are you still scared?” 

“I'm terrified.” 

“Me too.” 

“Scared?” Sevika tries to get you to clarify. She needs to know. 

“No. In love with you.” 

[nastyc2nt]

hiiiiiii this is my first time requesting a fic !!!

I heard that your requests were open so I said fuck it let’s do this !!!! I would like to request “ Izuku with a breeding kink” please and thank uuuu ( no pressure to do this , the last thing I want is to make u feel uncomfortable!) 💋💋💋

⊹౨ৎ Getting Stuffed ⊹౨ৎ

╰┈➤ Husband!Izuku Midoriya x Fem!Reader

✦ ──────── ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ──────── ✦

╰┈➤ Warnings: Breeding, C*ming inside, baby making, talks of pregnancy, short, smut, izuku is a loving rough man.

╰┈➤ Words: 0.4k

It’s been months since you moved into this big apartment, a few extra rooms you had nothing to do with. It was finally time to upgrade from the comfy, but tiny apartment you both first bought when you got together. He had a office now, and you did too, a bigger kitchen and dining room- and I living room that could fit more couches then one.

“What do you think this room should be turned into?” Izuku asks while his arms hug your waist from behind, slowly humming a tone.

“Maybe we could have two guest rooms? Yeah, for when both our parents wanna come stay- Oh my gosh, should we host a family dinner for Christmas?” he watched the gears turn in your head while rambling on about Christmas. He had a idea in mind but he kept quiet. 

His thoughts weren’t silent for long.

“What’s this?” Izuku draped his coat over the chair pulled out for him. You sat at the table with food and candles ready for him. It was suspicious but he always loved the conversation that followed events like theses.

That’s when you asked what he thought about having kids. “I’ve been thinking and we are both doing so well right now, and I’m getting older so having a baby with a few more young years left would be ideal.” you listed reasons of your argument. He listens, still standing and ready for you to let him speak.

✦ ──────── ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ──────── ✦

“I love you,” his teeth bite sloppily at your neck while he fucks into you, your legs spread around him. It’s been about two hours since he’s pounced on you and has stuffed you full of his loads two times.

“I’ve been dreaming of making your belly sweep for years, baby, I can’t believe I get to finally have a family with you.” Your nails dig into his back. And you definitely have drawn some blood. “Take it— take my cock.” He cried out and threw his head back as his hips rush into yours.

“Izu, I’m gonna cum again,” you drool and warn him of your upcoming orgasm. His hands fly down to your puffy clit and rubs it with his thumb and makes sure to place it just right.

“Cum, please baby. I promise to give you other load soon, gonna’ fill you up.” he looks down and sees your face scrunched up and eyes closed r before twitching as you cum undone. Your hole pulses and shots your sticky juices out, making it more wet on your things from his thrusts.

“Don’t stop— Don’t stop,” you babble on repeatedly as you wrap your legs around him to keep him inside.

His hand takes ahold of yours while pinning it against the soft sheets, “wouldn’t dream of it. Gonna fuck you for weeks until my seed sticks.”

¡!Don’t repost my posts on other websites, don’t translate them, theses are for me to publish on my own!!

Tagslist: @sparklylanddetective @fvitos

[chlerc]

— summary; he believed you when you said you would fly over to celebrate his birthday with him, excited to see your face. but he didn’t know it’d be that easy for you to leave him without a trace.

pairing — jude bellingham x f. reader ( third person story )

word count — 1630.

content — angst, like bad / sad ending. they don’t get a happy ever after ending. long distance friendship, she’s always here and there for him but never stayed long enough. secretly pining over each other

NAVIGATION + author’s note: wrote this when i was sick, the motivation and inspiration always strikes here. always putting my boy jude through the angsty stories lol

song recs for this fic — no one noticed.

The glow of Madrid’s street lights flickered in the corners of her vision as she adjusted her scarf, weaving through the late-night crowds that filled the cobblestone alleys of the city. Her heart beat in time with her steps, a rhythm that both grounded and unsettled her as she drew closer to his building. It felt surreal to be here — a place she’d only known through pixels and video calls, a place that lived solely in the stories he’d woven for her across distant lines.

The door swung open, and there he was — his face breaking into a grin, eyes bright with delight and something softer, something she couldn’t name but felt resonate in her chest. Without a word, he pulled her into an embrace, his arms wrapping around her so tightly that she could feel his heartbeat against her cheek. “Didn’t expect you’d actually come,” he teased, though his eyes held a glint of something softer, something more grateful.

“Best birthday gift I could ask for,” he added, his tone light, yet his hold unwavering as though he feared she’d slip away. Pulling back, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his gaze lingering, studying her as though to make sure she was truly there.

“Well,” she murmured, brushing past him with a faint smile, “someone’s got to make sure you don’t spend your birthday alone.” She took in the room with its modest decor, the hints of his presence scattered in the form of art pieces, records stacked near the player, and an open notebook on the desk. He chuckled, closing the door behind her. “I told you, I don’t mind being alone.”

“Perhaps,” she replied, feigning an indifferent shrug. “But what if I do?” Her gaze met his, holding his for a moment before she turned away, pretending to inspect the records as though she hadn’t just travelled across countries to be here.

They settled into the evening slowly, an awkwardness blanketing them at first, a product of shared screens finally giving way to physical space. But eventually, laughter eased through the gaps, filling the quiet corners of his small apartment. They shared stories, exchanged quiet jokes, and lingered over glasses of wine that made the room feel warmer, the air laced with the scent of familiarity and anticipation.

As the evening deepened, they ventured out onto his balcony. The city lights stretched before them, bright and steady, twinkling with the same allure that had first drawn her to his words, to his enigmatic charm.

“Look at this view,” she whispered, her voice softened by awe. He shrugged, gazing at her instead of the skyline. “It’s just a city. It’s better with you here.” She smiled faintly, caught between the quiet euphoria of his words and the nagging reality that lingered at the edges of her mind. She knew she would leave soon, knew that this moment would end. The thought hung heavily between them, unspoken.

“Will you stay long?” he asked, finally breaking the silence, his voice a low murmur against the hum of the city. She exhaled, her breath curling in the cool night air. “I don’t know. Long enough, I suppose,” she replied, her words as carefully crafted as they were vague.

He reached out, catching her hand in his, a simple touch that anchored them amidst the unsteadiness of whatever this was. “You’re always like this,” he said, half-smiling. “Appearing out of nowhere and then vanishing like you’re a dream.”

“Maybe I am,” she murmured, meeting his gaze. “Maybe that’s all this ever was.” For a moment, the conversation hung heavy between them, layered with questions and fears neither dared voice. But then he laughed, and it softened the tension, bringing them back to a more familiar, playful place. “Well, if that’s the case, I suppose I should make the most of this dream while it lasts.”

Jude draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer, the silence between them thick with unspoken sentiments. “You know, I don’t say this enough, but I’m glad you’re here,” he admitted, his voice a murmur in the cool night air. She looked up at him, searching his expression, and a pang of something bittersweet tugged at her. She wanted to stay in this warmth, this certainty, but she knew that come dawn, she would have to slip away.

“I’m glad I came too,” she replied softly, her voice barely a whisper. Jude’s gaze was soft as he looked down at her, thumb brushing her cheek as though memorising the contours of her face. For a brief, irrational moment, she wanted to tell him everything — that she wished she could stay, that she didn’t want to leave this, leave him. But she said nothing, instead resting her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, each beat a fleeting reassurance she knew would fade by morning.

They leaned into the quiet closeness, the moments blurring together as the evening stretched on, her laughter mingling with his in the warm light of the city. Time drifted, unbound, until the faintest hint of dawn crept across the skyline. She glanced at him, seeing the calm softness in his eyes as they drifted shut, his breathing even, and she knew that she’d fulfilled whatever it was she’d come to do.

When he finally awoke, the first rays of morning spilling through the curtains, he found himself alone. Her scarf was still draped over the back of a chair, her perfume lingering faintly in the air. He blinked, sitting up and looking around, the remnants of last night’s laughter still fresh on his lips. But the silence pressed in, weighted and still, like a final goodbye.

On the table, she’d left a small note, folded neatly with her handwriting sprawled across the front:

“Happy Birthday. See you in the spaces between.”

He laughed quietly, though it sounded more like a sigh, tracing his fingers over the words. The irony wasn’t lost on him. She’d become his obsession, his mystery, a presence as elusive as the dreams he could never quite hold on to. And though he didn’t know when — or even if — he’d see her again, he couldn’t shake the feeling that wherever she was, some part of her would always be right here, lingering in the traces she’d left behind.

With a soft sigh, he let the silence settle around him, her absence heavy in the early morning light. Her scarf, still draped over the chair, seemed almost like a placeholder, a faint whisper of her presence against the cold, hard truth of her departure. She’d left, slipped out as quietly as she’d arrived, like a carefully crafted illusion dissipating with the dawn. He ran his hand over the note she’d left behind, her familiar handwriting tracing the words: Happy Birthday. See you in the spaces between.

He let out a quiet laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh, his thumb brushing over the ink, her words as gentle and evasive as she’d been. There was a charm to her mystery, an allure to the way she moved in and out of his life, almost as though she existed just beyond his reach, a mirage in a desert he didn’t know he’d been wandering. But this time, there was an ache behind his eyes, a quiet longing that tugged with a new intensity, as though some part of him had grown tired of the chase, of these small doses of her presence that he could never quite hold onto.

A sudden impulse tugged at him. He grabbed a pen from his desk, leaning over the small note she’d left. His fingers brushed the page as he wrote, the words forming slowly, deliberately, almost as though he was afraid of what they might reveal. 

“Don't leave me without a trace; it can’t be that easy please,” he wrote, his handwriting messy and sprawling in contrast to her neat scrawl. He paused, watching the ink dry, knowing she’d never see his reply, yet there was a strange comfort in writing it all the same, as if committing his thoughts to paper might somehow reach her, wherever she was.

He lingered over the note a moment longer, then folded it carefully, tucking it into a drawer with a sense of finality he didn’t quite feel. The silence that filled the room felt heavier now, loaded with the words left unsaid, the moments that had slipped through his fingers like sand.

In her absence, he found himself tracing back through their time together, each memory sharp and vivid, yet fleeting, like flashes of light in a darkened room. He recalled the way she’d laughed under the city lights, the way her voice had softened when she’d whispered, “Maybe I’m just a dream.” It was as if she’d known she would leave, had planned it all along, and he couldn’t decide whether to be grateful for the moments they’d shared or resentful of the empty space she’d left behind.

Yet he knew that her departure, as difficult as it was to accept, had always been part of her. She was as unpredictable as the wind, as elusive as a distant star, and perhaps that was what had drawn him to her in the first place. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting to the window, to the soft glow of morning light that seemed to fill every corner of the room with a quiet, bittersweet warmth.

And though he knew he would miss her — miss her laugh, her voice, the quiet moments they’d shared — he couldn’t shake the sense that some part of her would always linger here, an unspoken promise hanging in the air, caught between the spaces of their fleeting time together.

[citruslullabies]

OMG. I SAW UR CURLY HEADCANONS AND I TOUGHT THEY WERE AMAZING!! COULD U MAYBE DO THE SAME THING BUT WITH DAISUKE?? :O

Coming right up hon!

Daisuke Mouthwashing headcannons

Romantic

Pre-crash Daisuke:

He's a silly guy

Constantly cracking jokes, trying to make you laugh

People wouldn't know if you two were dating or just best friends if it weren't for the fact he's a puppy dog with you

Following you around whenever he can, looking at you for praise whenever he can

It's kind of like the meme "no, I'm not calling you good boy. That mission was shit."

..other than he is a good boy so call him such

And boy does he love PDA

Well, not really

He just loves affection, public or private

I like to think he's just a bit more silly in public

Kisses your cheek and makes an over exaggerated pop whenever he pulls away

Daisuke was hanging out with Swansea, goofing off as usual. But he saw you in the corner of his eye and without a second thought, ran to you and practically pounced. Before you could get anything but a giggle in, he pressed his lips to your cheek and kissed you with a loud pop!

He's not really a petname sort of person either

It's mostly funny nicknames for him

He will call you his grumpasaur when you're grumpy first thing in the morning. I don't make the rules.

Post-crash Daisuke:

For awhile, he still acts the same. But his personality is a little watered down, y'know?

He's stressed and scared after what happened

But he tries not to let that get him down!

Although he is more clingy, more scared of letting go of you. One accident already happened and almost wiped their captain out, what if you were next?

He didn't want to think about that

It made him nauseated to think about

And eventually well.. he crawled through that vent to get to Anya

And he got severely injured. You couldn't bear to see him like that

You most likely died soon before, trying to keep Swansea from killing Daisuke

Begging and pleading that there had to be some other way

But it didn't work out in anyone's favor

Platonic

Pre-crash Daisuke:

You guys are super duper close!!

Lots of jokes and pranks on the other crew members

Constantly goofing off whenever you can

Not too affectionate.. the occasional hug here and there. But besides that it's all fun and games

He has definitely drawn on your face before while you slept

I'm sorry. I don't make the rules. He would definitely make an attempt at drawing a flower on your cheek and it look like a penis

He'd still giggle about it though.. maybe it wasn't an accident

He has definitely (jokingly and lovingly) made fun of Swansea

Just standing up and trying to mimic his mannerisms while you're laughing

..yeah, too bad Swansea was in at that very moment

"look at me, I'm Swansea! I'm a big smelly engineer!" Daisuke said in a forcefully deeper voice, making you laugh as he held his arms out in front of him as if to mimic toting a stomach around. Swansea in question could only look unamused as he cleared his throat, making you both stop in your tracks. Oh if looks could kill.

But yeah you guys have a purely goofy relationship

Post-crash Daisuke:

It's the exact same as the romantic, but the difference is, he tries to convince you to go into the vent with him. He wants to get Anya and doesn't want to be alone

But you of course refused, stating it wasn't safe but did he listen?

No

In fact he continued on to the vent and got himself injured

You gave him the 'i told you so' look but.. you felt really bad when looking at your friend. He was in bad shape.

And so you died a similar way

The only big difference is, you died after discovering him

Thanks for requesting!

[cosmerelists]

Favorite Video Game Genres of Cosmere Characters

As requested by @thesternest :)

1. Silence

Silence: Don't know why, really, but I like casual games, games that are just like real life. Silence: Something about doing your daily life, but in game form--very relaxing. William Anne: Uh, mama? I think "Silent Hill" is a survival-horror game. Silence: It is? How so?

2. Marasi

Marasi: [Looks around nervously] Marasi: I...well, I like first-person shooters. Marasi: I-I just like to pretend I'm in the Roughs, like Wax! Marasi: I don't want to be Wax in real life or anything, but...it can be fun in a game!

3. Dalinar

Dalinar: In real life, war is a terrible necessity. Dalinar: In games, war is fun. Dalinar: ... Dalinar: I like tactical RPGs.

4. Vin

Vin: Huge fan of platform games. Vin: Jumping from ledge to ledge, controlling my speed and trajectory, occasionally swinging from hooks or managing double jumps... Vin: It's just like moving through the city as a Mistborn! Elend: Your high-score is RIDICULOUS, Vin! Vin: I'm also REALLY good at it.

5. Yumi

Yumi: I wasn't allowed video games for a long time, but now that I can play them... Yumi: [eyes sparking] I've become a HUGE fan of visual novels! Yumi: It's like Seasons of Regret, only *I* can be the one making the choices!

6. Leshwi

Leshwi: Like many Fused and Singers, I find myself quite taken with Rhythm games. Leshwi: Now that it is no longer appropriate for me to fight the Windrunners, I do like to challenge them to Dance Dance Revolution instead. Kaladin: OH COME ON I DEFINITELY HAD THAT Leshwi: I always win.

7. Steris

Steris: I used to think games were a waste of time, but then Wax introduced me to these construction simulators. Steris: My city is a paradise with excellent infrastructure, logical layout, and plenty of greenspace. Wayne: You should try to mod that makes a tsunami hit your city! Steris: Oh please, I beat that mod yesterday on my first try.

8. Navani

Navani: Recently, I've gotten into Tower Defense games. Sibling: I can defend myself, thank you very much.

9. Vivenna

Vivenna: Love a good roguelike. Vivenna: It's something about trying it over and over again until you're perfect. Vivenna: The victory is sooo sweet when you've worked hard to achieve it, dying many times. Siri: Oh me too!! I especially like Hades--the art is AMAZING. Vivenna: (scoffs) You mean a rogue-lite? Siri: I'm telling you--you should try one! Getting powerups in between runs is pretty sweet. Vivenna: Hedging out a difficult victory after hours of blood, sweat and tears is also fun! Siri: If you say so...

10. Lightsong

Lightsong: Soooo addicted to Candy Crush. Lighsong: Can't even tell you why. Llarimar: Perhaps your divine eye is drawn to the bright colors. Lightsong: Whatever makes you feel better, Scoot.

11. Adolin

Adolin: Lately I've become completely engrossed with life simulators. Adolin: I make my character get up, make breakfast, go to work, go on dates, learn the piano... Adolin: WHY IS IT SO ADDICTING?? Shallan: This may be a sign that your actual life is incredibly stressful and the allure of a simple, daily life is drawing you in? Adolin: No, that doesn't sound right... Shallan: You want to date a bisexual vampire? Adolin: ...That could be it.

12. Rlain

Rlain: I'm quite taken with these cozy farming games. Rlain: You just build a nice farm, meet the villagers, explore around. Renarin: Rlain, please, it's been six hours! Rlain: Just one more day...

13. Tress

Tress: I've been enjoying survival games! Tress: It's fun to gather and cook and build a base! Tress: A little bit unrealistic, because the rain doesn't make anything explode, but I guess they wanted to make it easier than real life, not harder.

14. Shallan

Shallan: It has to be MMOs for me. Shallan: I like a game where I can do pretty much anything I want. Shallan: Advance the story, collect every type of mushroom, fill in the whole map... Shallan: Plus, I like leveling every class and giving each one their own outfit and personality. Veil: You named the rogue after me, I see. Shallan: It's a compliment.

15. Kelsier

Kelsier: There's only one type of game for me: and that's a game where the name of the, uh, game is survival. Kelsier: And I especially like it when you have to survive as a team. Kelsier: Especially against great odds--like lots and lots of real-life players. Kelsier: Yup, yup. Kelsier: It's all about Fornite for me.

[daryldove]

The Sinful, The Guilty

incubus!daryl x fem!reader

monster fucking, size difference, stomach bulge, happy halloween!

summary: you get more than you bargained for when stumbling across a spooky basement in a seemingly abandoned cabin. 2.3k

It's an unnecessarily humid day, and although you had planned on covering lots of ground, you can't muster the willpower to bother. Now you're deep in the woods, trying to improve your mediocre hunting skills. You can't even remember the last time you ate fresh meat. But you're also already exhausted. It's too hot, the bugs are relentless, and it seems like a storm is brewing, so you decide to only walk as much as you can handle while searching for shelter.

Cabins this far out were few and far between, but as one appears through the trees after hours of walking, you decide maybe things aren't so bad after all. The interior is dusty and musty, but it's a better shelter than you've had ages. And you can't exactly afford to be picky. A small cot sits in one corner across from a cold fireplace. Lucky, after all.

You spend the next few minutes getting settled, spreading your belongings around, already taking advantage of having such a secluded, safe feeling place to call home for a bit. That's when you suddenly trip over something protruding from under the frayed rug. Which fucking hurts. You start rolling over the worn material, ready to give whatever inanimate object a piece of your damn mind, only to stare wide eyes once you expose a boarded up trapdoor. Immediately, it has you feeling somewhat queasy.

It takes an hour, your knife, and more energy than you'd like to admit to finally pry all the boards off. You hesitate, for the first time despite all the work it took, as an eerie feeling washes over you. This is creepily suspicious; maybe you should mind your own business. In fact, being inside the cabin at all suddenly feels… off. You sit back on your heels, biting your lip anxiously as you stare down at the latch. Just as the idea of leaving grows appealing, light rain starts echoing against the wood roof. Fuck. Okay, well… Guess you're stuck here, and you're absolutely not sleeping without knowing what's hiding underneath. With growing hesitation, you unclip the latch and open the trapdoor.

After dropping from the ladder, you shine your torch over the dark room. It's damp and stagnant inside, and mostly empty except for what appears to be a shrine on the opposite wall. Your gaze sweeps over various items, herbs, bottles, and books before noticing the faded pentacle drawn in chalk. Unintelligible symbols are written around the outside. Some freaky religious shrine wasn't exactly what you expected, although you suppose it's better than a rotting corpse.

You reach over to pick up a weathered book resting over the star, a small, broken cross resting underneath clinks at the movement. The text in the book is in another language you don't understand, seemingly different from the markings on the floor. Despite the initial creepiness, there's something oddly sad about it all. You can't help but wonder what occurred here—was this done after the world fell? An attempt at seeking answers or protection? You place the book down with a heavy sigh and a heavy heart.

The storm has picked up by the time you ascend the ladder. Dark clouds blanket the woods around you. You gaze around the cabin, something in the stale air feels like it's changed, like time has stopped. It's probably just paranoia, but you can't shake the feeling. The rain pours down harder, as if it's trying to soothe you, and you close the trapdoor with a thud.

No, something is definitely wrong. Your eyes flick around the dark cabin, a shiver creeping up your spine. You force it back down, but the feeling of someone watching you remains. The deep shadows of the room have you patting around for your flashlight, but it's not where you left it.

You practically jump out of your skin as lightning cracks overhead, briefly illuminating the tall, winged figure standing in the corner.

What the fuck.

You freeze momentarily before scrambling for your dagger, a habit the apocalypse built into you, only to remember you left it in your damn bag. The glowing outline of whoever—whatever—stains your vision, only disorienting you more.

You lunge for where you think you tossed your bag earlier, desperate for the comforting weight of your blade, but creature must realise what you're doing. A strong grip yanks you back by the ankle, dragging you along the rough floor until it has you pinned underneath its broad body. Pure terror rakes your body, your eyes wide and frantic. It's too dark to see any features on the dark mass above.

“I ain't gonna hurt ya.” The deep voice comes as another surprise, but you're not exacly reassured by it. You aren't sure how long you lay there, panting, until its hold on you eventually loosens. The moment it does, you crawl back until you hit the wall. Your flashlight bumps against your foot, and you snatch it up, quickly shining it towards the creature.

He's… surprisingly human-looking, aside from the horns poking through his hair, black wings stretching behind him, and the long, thin tail. He flinches at the bright light, still slouched on the floor. Then you notice something else, the fact he's completely naked. Breathing suddenly feels difficult again as you have to force your eyes to stay above his waistline because Jesus Christ...

“What are you?” There's a noticeable shake in your voice as you ask. The winged man just looks a little irritated, and if you're purposely bothering him with stupid questions.

“Stop pointing that thing at me,” he ignores your inquiry as he squints.

“Not until you tell me.” You can't help feeling proud about not letting your voice shake this time. Although he hasn't hurt you yet, you still feel on edge.

He just scoffs like you're an idiot. “An incubus, darlin’. You brought me here, remember?” A what? You what?

Your eyes scan over him again, inspecting his inhuman aspects as if trying to confirm. Did you hit your head? Wait, obviously this has something to do with that creepy shrine. There was likely a reason it was boarded up; seems like you found it. Your eyes fall lower, not even really processing where you're looking until you notice him smirking in your peripheral. A blush crawls onto your cheeks; that was not your intention, regardless of whatever this demon guy thinks. “Stop.”

“I ain't done anythin’.” He looks so smug at your unease, your gut coils at the sight—with anxiety, but maybe something else, too.

“You're looking at me like you wanna eat me,” his smirk widening makes you regret ever opening your mouth, “what do you even want?”

“What do I want? You summoned me here.”

“I don't know anything about that, okay?” It's getting increasingly more difficult to keep your eye level appropriate. With the initial fear simmering, you can actually take in how attractive he is—which maybe is a given considering he's a literal sex demon.

“Well that's obvious, haven't had a human pass through in a while. I'm pretty hungry.” You can see the truth to his claim, something sinister swirling within his irises. He chuckles as you get lost in them for a second.

“I don't... I'm not…” You don't even know what to do or say next, torn between the urge to flee and being frozen in place. For now you focus on getting to your feet. “Okay. Shit, fuck, okay… Do you have a name?”

The incubus raises an eyebrow but nods, “Daryl.” Less biblical than you were expecting, but you return his nod. You attempt to reassure yourself; this situation didn't have to be weird or dangerous. But once you close your eyes to take a deep breath, Daryl is nowhere to be seen once you reopen them. Your heart drops into your stomach again as you stumble forward a few steps. Were you actually hallucinating? Maybe you really fell down the ladder and received a nasty head wound. Right as you place the flashlight hesitantly on the table, an arm snakes around your waist, pulling you back into a broad, muscular chest. Your breath hitches, and you tense as one of Daryl's hands firmly grips your chin.

You don't even realise you're whimpering quietly in fear until he shushes you. One of his fingers slides between your lips to rest against your tongue. “Fuck… I'm so hungry,” his voice is a raspy whisper against your ear. “Can ya be a good little girl for me?” Despite your unease, you feel yourself throb at the words. Not that you're to blame. He is an incubus, after all. Nothing wrong with giving in, you tell yourself.

The feeling of his cock pressing against your back makes you bite down slightly on his finger. This was kinda fucked up, if you thought about it for too long. But you were already tempted to throw caution to the wind. Maybe it's curiosity, frustration after being pent up for so long, or maybe he's got some crazy demon powers. Did you even care? His finger presses more firmly against your tongue as his free hand trails upwards, tugging and tearing at your top until he exposes your chest. His tail curls around your thigh, trapping you close. The way his thumb rubs and pinches at your nipples makes you squirm instinctively as his hips grind against yours. He continues until you're aching, desperate for any amount of friction, your knuckles turning white with how hard you're clutching the table in front of you.

Eventually, he removes his finger from your mouth, stepping back only long enough to yank your pants down. He drags the moistened finger over your clit, chuckling gruffly as you buck up against his hand. A strangled gasp escapes your mouth. “Yeah, baby girl, ya like that?” He presses himself against your back again, this time sliding his dick between your squeezed, wet thighs. His length presses hotly against your cunt, and you can practically feel him throbbing against you.

You feel any remaining hesitance crumble, giving way to complete desperation as Daryl fucks your thighs. He's massive, bigger than any human you'd seen. Right as you feel your orgasm building, he pulls away again to drag you towards the small cot in the corner. You nearly trip trying to kick off your pants completely on the way. The incubus practically throws you onto the bed, immediately climbing over you to capture your lips in a messy, heated kiss.

His taste is enchanting, distracting you until you feel the head of his dick push into your entrance. You reluctantly pull away with a whine at the stretch. “W-Wai..t,” but he doesn't stop, only pushing in further as he holds your chin. “I got ya, baby girl.” Your head falls back as he thrusts deeper, pulling drawn out moans from your lips. He grabs your wrist, guiding your hand to your stomach. Your confusion dissipates to disbelief as you feel the outline of his length press against your palm with each thrust. You're surprised you don't come right then and there. “H-Holy shit,” you barely manage to pant out.

“Takin’ it so well, it's like ya made for me,” the incubus grunts out. He buries his head into your neck, his fangs dragging shyly across your sensitive skin, as if he's holding back from hurting you. His grip on your hips is firm, dragging you down in time with his thrusts as they grow rougher. Your own hands slide up his body, exploring his strong chest and large biceps. His horns intrigue you, curiously wrapping your hands around them like they're handles. Daryl grunts in pleasure, pushing against you even more. He holds you down, fucking you hard until you're squeezing around him and coming with a yell. A deep, satisfied sigh leaves your lips as he pulls away. Your body already feels weak from the effort.

Before you can relax fully, a hot wetness slides up your folds. “Daryl!” Your voice quivers with sensitivity. You struggle to sit up on your elbows to look where his head is buried between your thighs. His tongue is precise, lapping up your juices and circling around your clit with practised perfection. It seems he's larger than a human in every aspect. He presses kisses up your stomach to your chest, long tongue sliding over your nipple before reaching your mouth. “Ya taste so good,” he whispers against your lips. Your eyes flutter shut, fingers roaming over his wide shoulders as he kisses you.

His strong arms flip you over without warning, pressing your face into the pillow as he shoves back inside you with a grunt. The cot shakes with force as he ruts against you, his chest pressing against your back. You feel caged, completely at this monster's mercy, and it's the hottest thing you've ever experienced. His wings fall around you like some kind of dark waterfall, and his tail snakes up to press against your clit. And fuck, if it isn't the most intense pleasure you've felt in your life—it's overwhelming. Daryl angles deeper, harder, and your mind completely blanks. His fingers slide into your mouth again, holding your jaw open as he fucks with animalistic thrusts. You come so hard the room spins.

Then you jolt awake, not even remembering falling asleep. The cabin is empty, void of any sign of the incubus. Your eyes scan the room as you struggle to sit up. Every inch of your body aches. An acute tiredness spreading through your limbs. As you glance down at your nakedness, at least you can be sure what happened wasn't your imagination.

[ibeatmywifeandkidss]

“I do” from this request

Your boyfriend, Nanami Kento. He truly was the sweetest man to exist.

You have been in a relationship for nearly three years, and your love for him is deep . . .

Nanami surprised you with a date at the beach, the place where you both first met. You were walking along the beach shore with Nanami closely behind you. You both walked in silence, a silence that was not awkward but rather comforting. listening solely to the ocean breeze.

"Oh Ken, look at these beautiful seashells," you bent down to admire the vibrant seashells brought in by the waves.

“Beautiful indeed…” Nanami murmured softly.

As you admired the seashells, Nanami stood close behind you, captivated by your beauty in the moonlight reflecting off the ocean.

Taking your hand, Nanami urged you to follow him, as he had something important to show you.

“What are you going to show me, Ken? ” You wrapped your arm around Nanami’s, stroking his arm with your free hand.

“You will just have to wait, my love,” Nanami leaned down to place a quick kiss on your lips, a smile gracing his face.

"You know I'm not the patient type. " . . .

As you gradually approached the destination Nanami had in mind, he came to a halt.

“Is something wrong? ” You felt concerned as you watched Nanami pull a blindfold from his pocket.

“Before we arrived, I need you to be blindfolded first,” before you could object. Nanami placed a kiss on your forehead and secured the blindfold over your eyes. once you reach the highest point of the beach. Nanami gradually took off the blindfold.

Before you was a heart shape drawn in the sand, with a blanket in the center, surrounded by flowers and lit candles.

“Nanami, this is beautiful—” you both step into the heart. You turned to face your partner. Your eyes widened at the sight of him on his knees, one hand in his pocket.

“y/n l/n.”

“Would you have the pleasure of making a happier man than I am today and allow me to take you as my…” Before he could complete his sentence, you swiftly jumped into his arms. screaming yes into his neck while you hugged him.

“Yes, yes, yes, I will marry you, Ken. " You kissed him all over his face and neck, pushing him onto the blanket.

“Would you, Nanami Kento? " take y/n l/n. to become your lawfully wedded wife? ”

“I do,” Nanami struggled to contain his tears.

“Okay. and do you y/n l/n. Consider Nanami Kento. To be your lawfully wedded husband? ”

“I do”

“I now pronounce you. Husband and wife! "

[iheartsteve0704]

With AAA coming to an end soon (so fucking emo about this) here are my final two episode predictions/delusions no one asked for:

**I don’t think most of these will happen tbh just thoughts rolling**

The hair in Agatha’s locket is Nicholas’s but the locket was given to her by Rio when he passed so that’s why it’s sentimental to her because it reminds her of both her favorite people in the world

What Billy seeks is not what he thinks he wants

We won’t see Wanda (sorry but I really don’t think so! I could be wrong but anyway I’d love to be wrong just to see Lizzie Olsen on my screen again)

We’ll learn that when Rio had to take Nicholas, she was inconsolable and just as broken up about it as Agatha but the older witch was too hurt and in her own feelings to realize it

Jen is an agent of mephisto

Jen’s trial will be episode 8

Senior scratchy isn’t anything but a bunny (given to Nicholas by Rio)

Agatha and Rio WILL kiss

Nicholas died not years later but when he was born due to complications and the things we saw in Agatha’s spell casted west view house weren’t real but just things she wished he had experienced and done in his life

The house Rio is sitting on is the house her and Agatha used to dream about having together when Agatha was pregnant with Nicholas but then he passed and they never got to that point

We’ll get a Rio trial and learn a lot more about her and how she become lady death in the first place (pls pls pls pls pls JAC PLS)

The Agathario Salem flashback will be the beginning scene of episode 9

We’ll see Alice again (in episode 4 they focused in on Alice singing “I’ll see you at the end”)

Hopeful wishful thinking that we see Lilia too but I think her ending was in 7 was heroic and a satisfying ending to her story and reversing all that would be strange to me

Rio and Agatha don’t betray each other because they admit they still have feelings for one another that never went away no matter how hard they tried

We get confirmation they were married once and not just exs

The part in the witches road song where it goes “Where all that's wrong is right and all that's bad is good” will be reflected and it kind of was in EP7 when teen did a tarot of Agatha and said something around the lines of that doesn’t make sense because it was opposite of bad

The reason why Rio calls Agatha a coward is because of their relationship and how Agatha won’t admit what she really feels for Rio or the fact that she actually does forgive her and the person she was mad at all along was herself more than anything

WE GET A SEASON 2 ANNOUNCEMENT IN THE EMPTY CREDIT FRAME

What if what Agatha actually seeks at the end of the road is reunion and the road is up to interpret that in any way and it’s Rio

The Agatha Rio fight isn’t real and is a show to distract the others

Or the Agatha Rio fight is a part of the last trail to “escape death”

Rio will have to leave Agatha in the end (for “work”) she’ll conjure up the same flower form the beginning and tuck it in Agatha’s hair

It was truly Agatha all along along and the road is just some twisted scheme Rio and Agatha started back in their salmon days to collect bodies and power (this would be hard tbh like support ur local evil hags I guess!)

^ and that’s why Agatha’s trial was so short because it had to happen to make the road believable but not too drawn out to cause herself more emotional mommy issues drama

^^ but I do believe and think Agatha genuinely felt bad getting Alice killed and I think she has made an attachment (even a small one) to her coven even if she won’t admit it (even Jen!)

We’ll learn Jen was Agatha’s midwife and the scene will be Jen helping Agatha push and Rio rushes in from “work” bringing a banquet of the flower she conjured in episode 4

Aubrey’s words about the ending being a “gay explosion” will mean that the series will end with Agatha and Rio together on top, even if it means betrayal of the coven

AGATHARIO END GAME. PERIOD.

[morablackbird]

Never give up

long story short, I have a new pc, so far so good, was very lucky to get it. Bad news, a program I've had since 2014, ten years, and still own but cannot have is my adobe photoshop cs6. Adobe won't let me have it because I guess it's on two dead pc's (one being my laptop) and even though they know this, they said they can't reset it, they can't give me access to it, and just said, "here is six free months of this program, go suck lemons" and I refuse to accept any offer but what I bought. It's not the fault of the employees they are doing the best they can, but if I can help it, I will never use Adobe ever again and I recommend anyone of you who wishes to do so to be careful, and those who have yet to try it, don't bother, there are better programs out there it just has a learning curve, industry standard or not its time they understood that they can't own you. You deserve better. That being said some files were saved, and these two were the last I had worked on before the crash. I managed to recover both by the skin of my teeth and most of the rest. The moon aka Philip had gotten corrupted, and I believed it was a lost cause, that I would have to redraw him, start over from scratch as his whole face was cut up to glitchy pieces. However, in an ironic twist of fate, if you can call it that, the sun card Caleb saved it, it had managed to reconstruct it from nothing, lurking on the file, as I had drawn Philip first and Caleb over him for the sun.

So in lieu of that, I decided to add the Gravesfield portal to their backgrounds, I was going to make them center stage like the star/collector, but this... this is good for them... Never give up.

sincerely Dove

[enidette]

THE PERFECT DRUG

warnings :: both are 18+, this doesn’t follow canon timeline but who cares, riding, unprotected sex (they’re so dumb don’t do that)

carl met you when you were brought back to alexandria, battered and bruised and shaking like a leaf from presumably trauma. his father, daryl, and rosita had gone scavenging and found you, and after some questions and your worrying state they brought you back.

he was drawn to you immediately. he was intrigued by how you held yourself. your normal behavior a great contrast to how shaken up you were when he first saw you.

he liked how similar you held yourself compared to him, independent, confident even if it was a facade. he liked how when you met him you just shook his hand and looked into his eye with kindness in yours. one of the first people to not look too long or overreact and interrogate him about the bandage.

but it was the little things that made carl's brain short circuit. tying your shirt up when it got too hot, exposing the skin of your belly. offering to care for judith, unknowing to how carl's mind ran wild about how you would do as a mother. maybe he was getting ahead of himself, but this crush he’s developed has become deeply rooted in the two years you've been here. despite never acting on it.

but you act so nonchalant around him. he's starting to understand how glenn and maggie fell together like puzzle pieces so quickly, but you don't seem to spare him a glance anymore. it drives him insane.

as of now the group is huddled together, brainstorming their next scavenging trip to satisfy negan. you're standing right in front of him, clad in cargo shorts and a white top tied in the front. you stood with your hand over your eyes, blocking yourself from the blazing sun as much as you could.

it's the little things.

you feel eyes on you and turn around, laughing shortly with no surprise that carl was behind you. "hey carl," you walk up to him, flicking his hat with a smile.

he hums in response, squinting his eye to see you clearer. "hi."

you shift your weight on your hip, "it's a little hot out to be wearing a flannel and jeans, huh?"

carl shrugs, "not much choice." him and those short answers, making it hard for you when all you want to do is listen to his pretty, raspy voice. it’s too bad he just doesn’t trust himself to speak around you.

you huff and start walking towards his house, a slight smirk setting on your lips when you hear him shuffling behind you "you're not going to help?"

"they're sending daryl and a couple of others, not me." you wait for him to speak again, ask you something else maybe. "they want me to watch after judith though."

"i got it." you say and open the front door of his house. you take judy away from olivia with a smile and a thank you. you bounce judith on your hip, carl standing behind you after he closes the door. you heard olivia say something about judith's nap time so you head up to her room to put her down.

no surprise carl followed you. you put judith down for bed, smiling at her sweetly.

“you’re good with her,” he observes allowed, following you as you walk out. you mumble a ‘thank you’ and turn to face him, leaning against the door of his bedroom. silence falls between you, the awkwardness growing when carl tries to get into his room.

you giggle nervously when you realize you’re in his way, moving to the side a bit before looking up at him. his eye flicks from your eyes to your lips. you don't miss it, silently gasping and put your hands on his chest to prevent him from coming closer.

his hand comes up to one of yours, guiding it up to his hair. you blink your eyes away from him. his head dips down to look into your eyes that are hellbent on avoiding him. you look up at him now, breathing out heavily. "i want you." it's a mumble under your breath, barely audible.

he laughs breathlessly, inching his face closer to yours. "i want you too." he mumbles before pressing his lips against yours. and his imagination is vivid, no doubt. but all of the noises he had you make for him in his head didn't come close to the pretty, honey-like sound of the ones escaping you now.

it didn't compare to how soft your lips felt against his, how perfect your skin felt on his fingertips. he pushes himself against you, chest to chest and deepens the kiss. you let out a small whine, using your free hand to grip his shirt.

his lips go to your jawline, sucking and biting and kissing at the skin. he's careful to not leave marks, saving those for the places only he could see. his hand goes behind you to open the door, pushing you inside clumsily before laying you down on his bed and hovering over you.

he bites his lips while he takes you in. you're breathing heavy, your chest rising and falling quickly. he sees the sheer shine of sweat on your skin, how plump your lips are from your kiss, how pretty your skin looks with the little light seeping from the window.

he pushes your shirt up and kisses along your abdomen, leading up to your chest and taking it off completely. his hand goes to your back, lifting you off the mattress slightly to rid you of your bra. he sighs with satisfaction when he finally sees your tits for himself.

his fingers lazily roll your nipples, the small action causing you to whimper and buck your hips. he looks up at you curiously, taking in everything that caused a reaction. he was going to prove to you that he could make you feel good.

he motions for you to take your clothes off and groans at the wet patch on your panties. he grinds against your clit and you gasp, his jeans causing friction that feels so good. the embarrassment of you being nearly fully naked while he's still dressed adding onto the fire in your belly. he whimpers in your ear every time he moves his hips, his hands holding yours in place against the mattress.

“wait,” you breathe out, hands coming up to his chest to stop him. you gesture for him to lay down before straddling him. you unzip his jeans, tugging them down his legs. your impatience gets the best of you leaving you to abandon them at his mid-thighs. he laughs at your desperation, helping you pull your panties to the side and guide yourself onto his cock.

you whine at the intrusion, going down slowly. he sucks in a breath through his teeth, throwing his head back. his hat falls off as a result and with a smirk you pick it up and set it on your head.

"you look perfect." you look down shyly, trailing your hand up his shirt to reveal his slim figure. you breathe out shakily as you force the rest of him inside of you, sitting still for a bit to adjust and get used to feeling him inside of you.

all the while carl is looking at you like you’re a goddess, half lidded eyes raking along your body. your hands are unsteady on his chest, trying your best to steady yourself and bounce on him properly.

you find a rhythm and your head falls to his neck. but he doesn’t want to take his eyes off of you, finally getting you to himself the way he wanted. not to mention how crazy you drove him wearing his hat.

your arms wrap around his neck and you move your head to kiss him. it's soft, carl wants to savor this as long as he can. his arms go around your waist, leaving you to grind on him instead. the kiss is messy, mostly heavily breathing into each others mouths trying to stay as close as possible.

his hips attempt to buck into yours, thrusting into you fast and messily. his lips lock with yours and his right hand cups your chest. he pulls out with a groan and your hand comes up to wrap around his cock. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing fast causing whimpers to fall from your lips. his brows furrow and his mouth falls agape while he watches your pretty hand finish him off.

taglist :: @carlslvr @hiro--aoki @carlsangel @mozzeralla-stix @carlmipololo

[enree9h]

CLEAR VIEW | psh

PAIRING : stalker!sunghoon x afab!reader

SYNOPSIS : just sunghoon being a total perverted next door neighbour.

WARNINGS : stalker obsessed sunghoon, he is kinda nasty? mas.tur.bation. you get it

wc : 1.2k+

A/N : this is not proofread so ignore all grammatical errors if possible

MDNI

Sunghoon hated the rain, it obscured his view of the house opposite to his. The constant downpour left the windows fogged up, he could barely make out the outline of your body through the heavy drizzle. Nevertheless, he stayed by the slit in his curtains- the one he'd deliberately made while ensuring it was small enough to have slipped past anyone’s suspicion.

He leaned back on the chair, the cushions pressing into his back muscles and kept his eyes on the dark of the windows ahead.

You were late today. From what he knew- believed to be completely accurate, you left work every day precisely at 5. Counting in the ride back home- for which you took the subway, adding the additional travel time, you step into your house at around seven every day.

Sunghoon was somewhat proud of all the time and work he'd put in. A total of seven months and ten days is what gave an output like such and with the smirk that grew on his face, it was easy to tell that Sunghoon was silently gloating.

Was it a little too extreme? No, not for him. After all, it wasn't like he was inflicting any kind of harm on you. It was solely for his pleasure and pleasure was something he got out of this just right.

Sitting by his window, the curtains drawn, a clear view of your window through the slim opening of his grey curtains was all he needed. His eyes would be laser focused on your figure moving through the dark of your house until you reached for the light switches and turned the lights to your bathroom on.

He watches you until you are stripped off of every piece of clothing- his pupils dilating as he palms the bulge in his sweat and groans into the air. You move in your room, naked and unaware of a set of eyes pinned on you and he owes all of this to his deliberate and sly schemes.

Schemes that included months of casually manipulating his sister to move into the house that just happened to be opposite yours.

It wasn't all on his part and he was more than happy to give credits to each event in the past seven months where luck played its part just right. It was a mystery and a miracle how his sister had accidentally left out the fact that she had been living with her brother when she first bumped into you during the first week after the move.

Conveniently enough- for Sunghoon and his twisted fantasies, you wouldn't think much about drawing your curtains all the way before a late night shower because a girl living in the house opposite to yours wasn't much of a threat or concern, right?

No, obviously not.

Sunghoon loved the weekends a little more. When you'd plop down on your bed after an exhausting Friday and pull the covers over your frail body.

He would then wait. Until you walked over to the windows and drew the curtains- leaving a gap. Then go on to search for the bright red lipstick from your closet and sink in the warmth of your bed. He would watch your hands disappear under the covers until your lips parted in what he imagined to be a gasp of pleasure.

He is close by- in a state not different than yours. With his fingers wrapped around his shaft, sweatpants pooling around his ankles and breath falling out of his lips in shallow pants. When he catches the sight of your back arching the pace of his movements quickens.

Your legs quiver under the heavy blankets but Sunghoon pictures them wrapped around his midsection. His head is thrown back as waves of pleasure ride through his tensed up body at the thought of his length buried in your heat, slipping in and out.

He watches you through the slit between his curtains, his lips parted as throaty groans fall out of his mouth at the sight of your tits jerking- he catches the outline of your hardened nipples and the hold of his fist around his twitching cock hardens.

You have to bite the back of your hand from screaming out and that only drives Sunghoon further into a state of mind numbing bliss. His hand pumps faster until he feels his release inching closer, shoulders trembling as the heat sends shivers down his spine.

Sunghoon watches your body jerk and fall back onto the mattress, your lips part and the skin of your hand comes away red with teeth marks engraved on it. The sight only makes him come undone sooner than he had anticipated.

The gray of his curtains stays stained with the white of his release and Sunghoon groans at the sight of the mess. It wasn't much work though, he had come around to get used to the routine. It had been going on for about seven months after all.

Recalling events of the past wasn't enough, he had to see you, see the curve of your ass and the light bounce of your tits as you walked in your room looking for a towel. But the hour hand of the clock was past eight and you weren't home yet. Sunghoon felt himself grow agitated with every passing second.

When you finally did show up- exhausted and stumbling through the door of your house, it was way past nine. This was unusual for a homebody like you. Was it a party? Were you with someone from work? A guy? Sunghoon’s thoughts spiralled until his eyes fell on you.

Your room stayed shrouded in dark as you walked over to where your bed was. Heaving a sigh you slowly slipped out of every piece of clothing on you. Sunghoon watched you with an all consuming lust washing over him. After waiting for more than twenty four hours, you had finally shown up for the daily run of events Sunghoon was in anticipation of.

His hands instantly reach for the dent in his pants, he runs palm over his hardening length until he watches the wetness of the pre cum stain his pants a darker shade of gray. He watches you as you sit on your bed and mentally curses at the little to no lights. His hand moves to wait and of his pants, until they slip past it.

Sunghoon winces as his fingers come to wrap themselves around his length. But seconds later they go still.

They go still at the sight of you falling onto your bed and at how moments later you nestle into the warmth of your bed and pull the sheets over your naked body.

Sunghoon- through the cloud of lust, felt a flicker of compassion for you. Were you that tired? Maybe a bad day? Oh how he wanted to walk over to your house and do something, anything to make it slightly better for you.

Maybe run his hands over your bare skin until you moaned into his ears, crying for more? Maybe he could ram his fingers into your core until your legs shook and your breath came out as broken pants of his name whispered into the crook of his neck?

But when he watches you reach for something- an outline of a lipstick in the dark, he knows you would try to tame those hushed desires all by yourself. Too bad m, he thought, he was just a knock away after all.