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kooyabooya · 3 days

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BABYLON

m reader x sana // 26k words

Almighty hand to God, there had been much, much worse situations to get yourself stuck in.

If there’s any sort of consolation to fall back on, you’d wish that you’d say something earlier, call this off with a simple push and shove on the way out the door, close it and wrap up nicely with no worry filling your mind.

It’s not that easy, though.

Never was to begin with.

Not when you have the lights off in your study, the sound of laughs downstairs surrounding the dining table, really fucked how you’ve hidden away from everyone else - also wanting to at the same time because all of them would have the same thread of thoughts running through their head if they saw you at the front of your desk with another body pressed towards you.

“Don’t get so worked up,” Sana tells you, lips fast across your neck while her singular hand is well deep into the grip of your shaft. You could feel her breath slip through the opening when her lips are back on yours, the taste of her is already addicting the more she leans, a hand in her hair trying to give more, fighting, but losing drastically.

What you give, Sana takes. That’s usually how it works in most cases like these with her. You can’t stop, you won’t stop. It’s already difficult to break away once she’s lowering your inhibitions without the use of alcohol.

“Maybe I should deal with you right now instead of later,” you tell her, hiding the smallest hint of worry when your hands find Sana’s hips. She’s proud of the sigh she lets out against your mouth when pulling away before you’re quick to drag her back in. “Let the whole world below know of the things you’re doing to me right now?”

You won’t stop giving in, because Sana gets you. Just like that.

“Have them screaming in shock when you bend me over the desk fucking me?” Sana asks, a tempting offer above a whisper at that. It also doesn’t help that she’s giggling at the thought of you doing exactly what she proposes. “Sounds hot,” she says, huskily, “because I know you would.”

This was never supposed to happen. Hell, this was the last thing you expected to happen. All of the possibilities in repercussions start flowing through your head again because this was definitely not the first time you’ve surrendered yourself to Sana’s advances, nor that you didn't want to.

She’s like quick sand, pulling you from underneath into the catacombs of temptations that would have Satan himself impressed if he could see you right now. Or how this woman at her fingertips is breaking down every last bit of rational support running through your brain just so that she can draw out the rasps of desperation to get her screaming, shuddering.

You could lower the flag and raise up the drawbridges - it’s so easy to do. She’s playing all of her cards right, knowing that your hand would never stack up against hers.

Forget calling a bluff in this house of cards, since the only play you have in your book is to fold.

–

You see, the events that happened before the wildfire were relatively tame.

Nothing but wins coming left and right in the avenue of your life. Speaking of avenues, there’s this newly acquired house (all thanks to your surprisingly good credit score) alongside this block that has a new occupant–

“Babe, the place is amazing!” Dahyun exclaims out, arms around your neck once you and her finally make it past the front porch, taking in the high ceilings and matte layout of the new space. All of this wouldn’t have been possible if it weren’t for the countless days and hours of work to achieve this milestone. You’ll be proud of yourself for settling down while others may be working for bigger goals and ambitions.

(A minor correction: two new occupants.)

The house itself is in a nice area. Not too far from the city, in a pretty well modest community, alongside the hills. Detailing is pretty modern: four bedrooms, three bathrooms, two stories, kitchen was renovated before signing off the lease, ideas for rooms themselves are already drafting from Dahyun’s pinterest board. Knowing that your wife has some good taste, it wasn’t worth deliberating over. You’ve gone through the gauntlet of places in different areas: beachside, close by to your cousins, one was also about a two hour trip away from the city, there’s also this high rise apartment that would’ve been a perfect choice though it never happens.

There’s some scattered boxes here and there still, but most of the things are already in place from the whole moving process. Aside from all the heavy lifting and not wanting to stain the ring on your finger from the dust and oil when the truck broke down on one of four trips, the beauty of being able to be grounded by the tune of Dahyun’s laughs and witty banter when you’re trying to catalog and take inventory of the things that will be kept and what’s going up for the garage sale you plan to have within the next week or so.

“I’m just glad that we finally got it over with.” You put her down, eyes overseeing the view past the spacious living room, as well as the boardwalk-esque deck housing the pool right outside. “Absolute hell trying to get the final documents signed, but finally.”

“I’m so proud of you honey,” Dahyun tells you, hand to your cheek with the most reassuring look that she’s known for giving in your times of crisis. “Had I known that we’d actually get the house after almost signing off on the last place with Jeongyeon–”

“Our luck was pretty much cut out for us,” you amend, though she’s not thinking of the ‘what could’ve been’ - since the here and now was all that mattered to Dahyun. You wanted this, and she did too. The agreement was not hard to fight over; sights were set, end of discussion.

“We should give our credit to Jeongyeon for referring us to this place,” Dahyun starts again, trailing off with hands behind her back, chin up when she walks in deeper. Her gaze turns back to you, leaning on the pillar when you’re staring up at the intricate set of lights hanging over the couch. “Didn’t you say this listing was about to be taken down at the last minute?”

“Almost,” you answer, hugging Dahyun again with your nose in her hair, “Gladly got the call as soon as I found out.”

Dahyun twists around, arms circling her waist, pulling her closer under your touch. She’s happy, giddy when the tip of your nose is nuzzling hers for a quick second. Cliché, corny even, but you’re in love and she’s in love - something that the new home will be more filled with for years to come.

“Shouldn’t we empty out the rest of the remaining boxes?” you ask her, hands curling inward on the small of her back, leaning in slowly for the softness of her fingertips across your face, the plushness of her lips on yours.

This was a brand new start, a turn of the page in the livelihood of things, one act onto the next.

–

Here’s the thing about new beginnings, most of these aspects are supposed to be taken in a positive light.

Most of the time.

The subject of change itself is frightening, can make someone anxious at times because of the uncertainty of how things would play from here on out. Naturally, it’s normal for human beings to feel like this - this daunting notion in being uncomfortable because of this collective notion of ‘being stuck in the past’ or ‘to relive the glory days’. Nostalgia is believed to be one of the great unsaid drugs that everyone takes unknowingly without even realizing it.

Luckily, you’re not facing things alone around these parts of life now.

Kim ‘the introverted but somewhat still a social butterfly’ Dahyun has this effect on others that makes her extremely likable. Hell, if it weren’t for that characteristic, the ring on her finger wouldn’t have been there in the first place. She just has this quintessential quirk of just being able to click with others like it's nothing, almost as if she’s known someone she’s just met for more than five years.

It’s an art in itself to admire, a playlist of clips in your mind that you’ll keep replaying over and over whenever the instance occurs.

You’re willing to be a people person while she does it effortlessly.

Not even a week after getting settled in, Dahyun was already getting acquainted with the nearby neighbors opposite and adjacent to your place while you’re busy getting the groceries in (since one or two trips are always the priority for the efficiency of less work.)

If you’re looking at your new house from the street and inwards, the home on your left is owned by Jihyo. She’s lovely, adventurous, mostly in and out of the house on a daily basis. You lean an ear into the conversation while Dahyun’s getting her small garden going that Jihyo was also a pilates coach, the hint taken with the amount of lululemon products she wears and has in her closet in the brief exchanges of hello’s and head nods. In the next house over to the right, there was Chaeyoung’s place. Dahyun tells you over dinner a few nights ago that Chaeyoung is this underground indie artist that’s hardly home because of her tour scheduling and the fact that she’s in London for her Europe leg on the calendar, but was home for a quick break since her brother just came back from the mandatory military service.

“You know, when I first looked into this cul de sac, I didn’t expect to live next to a considerable amount of celebrities.” you say, tending to the raw set of patties spread across the grill while the backyard of your house was transformed to this small, homey, kickback-style of a housewarming party with nearly everyone invited along the street. “Too early to say I’ve hit the jackpot?”

“Please,” Jihyo starts, the cup of bourbon in her hand swirling while the smoke is up in the air, “I think you think too highly of this community a lot.”

“Everyone has something special going on around here, which is nice.”

“A silent observer,” she murmurs at you, “Dahyun likes that about you, the ability to read people. You could honestly pass that as your hidden talent.”

“I may not be a people person like her, but if the conversation persists–”

“He has no problem slotting himself into it like it’s nothing.” Dahyun says over your shoulder, arm snaking your middle while she’s pressing a kiss into the blend of your shirt while you’re flipping burgers on the clock. “The best at it too.”

Even through the shades of your glasses, you lean over with Dahyun scooching to your left. A white bucket hat is all you see through the lens that’s shielding the top of her head with the monochrome scheme she has with her dress and shirt. Simplicity at its finest with the way she swipes your drink for a quick clink with Jihyo’s before downing it after.

There’s this mix of food and drinks being dished out, there’s a lot of simple activities spread out across the yard. Some people are in the pool with White Claws on the cupholders of the floaties, another group is playing spikeball that one of them brought over for more variety with the hoop on the outer rim of the boardwalk, the set table for beer pong, and essentially some others that were scribbled off the shopping list.

You’re weaving in and out of different groups throughout the houseparty - the role of being the host of the party really shows with the amount of times you’ve checked in with everyone in the span of ten to fifteen minutes. It’s all in good graces really, to set a solid first impression while the ambience really sets everyone into a mood. Cooling down once the sunset hits, and all of a sudden the influx of drinks being passed around might be mistaken as a frat party.

Aside from the inquiries of passing more drinks, you’ve noticed the stigma that’s seeping through the guest’s faces when you’re indulging in conversations, a hierarchy of sorts. And when they see you get cozy in the seat, that’s when the questions occur.

Mina, the person living in the house on the opposite side of your street asks: so what’s your daytime occupation, if you don’t mind me asking?

Quick on the draw, you answer: Currently working in data science from the comforts of my home. Oh, and I also dabble with a little bit of history to a minor stance.

“The world doesn’t thank enough people who aren’t willing to move for a charitable cause.” Her tone is nonchalant, almost flat. That simple black dress she’s wearing, the outline of her figure that may look unreal at first glance, the way her leg is folded on top that signifies that she’s all class, a tilt of her head that has you leaning back ever so slightly. “Are you this some sort of- house husband then? Given the way you’ve been tending to us around the party so far?”

“God no,” you answer, hand up in defense while you’re casually leaning for the unattended cup of Lager that was brought in by Jihyo’s fling? Booty call? Friend with some benefit? It wouldn’t matter since he’s athletic enough to have his own chain of gyms as a fine investment. “Call me a clean freak, but I get by with my duties around the new place.”

“What does Dahyun do again?” Lisa, another neighbor just a few houses down chimes in, “You said that she’s–”

“A corporate lawyer,” you say, catching Dahyun in your peripheral view who’s laughing with another guest that seemed to just make their way into the late afternoon. Hand to the back of your head while racking it, “She’s pretty damn good at her job too.”

You get a collective nod from the two women when you keep your mouth partly open with a tongue nicking the inside of your bottom lip. Logistically, Dahyun was a key counterpart in her firm, the way that she’s her bosses’ right hand when it comes to finishing off deals whether the fact it came down to mergers or closing cases. She’s always one to speak her mind, not willing to play nice or by the book.

Generally, a lawyer’s job tends to be stressful at times, given the unhealthy hours depending on what lands on her desk first thing when she walks in, early or not. If Dahyun needs some downtime, you’d give it to her - something about it that she coined you to be her sleeping pill.

(Kinda funny, though.)

However, there was this whole ordeal of some big litigation incident with one of the firm’s associated parties. Something about the high ranking chairman and close member convicted of fraud and if the press found out about it, the whole door gets blown up and it turns into an absolute shit show. Dahyun’s boss had her spearhead the whole thing and as a big token of appreciation, she managed to get time off.

The apartment prior was starting to get a little bit cramped, so she brought up the idea of moving while eating out for lunch one afternoon and that was that.

Explains how the house acquisition was more simple to deal with, considering how you’re good with numbers and finances, but that’s all to know.

Tech savvy, is what Mina tells you, taking out of it with a margarita in her hand while you raise your cup in acknowledgement, breaking away from the set of couches around the makeshift bonfire pit. Ever the sentry, unintentional but it’s what a good party host does to get to know new faces, right?

Like the ping pong ball on the table, you’re bouncing around the backyard again, avoiding the splash zone of the pool when you slide across the makeshift bar of different varieties of drinks off to the right of the sliding door, cups riddled both half full and empty that’ll have to be dealt with eventually later, or in the next morning - whichever one happens first. A frame of mind falls into the same habit, picking up the clutter for a bit before you could treat yourself to another choice of booze or wine you’ll fish out of the kitchen once done.

Nothing would prepare you for the extra set of small hands swooping in the table to keep tight on the slack.

She seems familiar, not long term familiar, but something that you’ve caught yourself having a double take at for a quick second only to forget a couple seconds later. A quick spike of the heartbeat, that’s also something that you’re very torn on in that moment - running back a necessary subroutine in your memory banks to check that you’re - well, you.

“I take you’re the guy Dahyun was praising about.” she says, her voice cheery with that simple but sly smile of hers that’s stabbing daggers into your heart. “Find it hard to believe that you’re her husband, actually.”

The solo cups slide in smoothly, placing it back in the respective stack while this girl is tending to the crushed water bottles and cans in that small plastic bag she’s putting them in. A small contribution at that, but a helpful gesture that you’ll indirectly accept once the plastic is tied and in the bin.

“And what are you trying to say?” you start, arm bearing your hand when you stand square across from her. “Was it everything that you hoped to expect?”

Unbuttoned baseball jersey, those high top sneakers and short shorts giving a slight peek into her figure from the down up. Her tank top also raised enough to show her toned midsection that looks tapered and detailed. Casual, you think, perfect for the summer vibe that you could honestly put a lei over her neck and all of a sudden this party is a fucking luau.

“Hon!” a voice calls out to you in the distance, approaching you and the girl from the other side of the yard. When that person gets closer, it turns out to be Dahyun who immediately grins at the sight of you looking all curious. “Oh! Good, I’ve managed to get you two both together.”

“But you didn’t do anything.”

“Who said that I was the one to start it?”

“Coming from the person who’s all for taking the credit for herself.”

“Always the pleaser,” the girl laughs out loud, Dahyun closing in with her fingers intertwining with hers. There’s history to them - not even a second thought to track back, it’s all there right in front of you to see. It also clicks in your head that this girl was also the same one that Dahyun was gleefully excited to see back in your sit-in with Mina and Lisa.

The exchange of happy glances abruptly stops when Dahyun catches you with an arched brow, looking for answers, and to this she just smiles downward because how could she forget with the formalities, it’s silly. “Babe, I’d like you to meet Minatozaki Sana, one of my closest friends since college.”

“Sana,” you say, and when the syllables reverberate past the oral cavity and into the air, it rolls off the tongue nicely. “I see, friend of Dahyun’s?”

“Indeed I am,” she says, extending her hand as a peaceful offering - not even realizing the turmoil that’s running through your head while hiding it effortlessly. The way her hand fits in yours, her whole body looks delicate like she’s handmade with God’s well crafted time; she’s also a few inches taller than Dahyun (by two for the accurate calculation), you’ve got Dahyun to mold into the threads of the mattress and now imagine–

“I was wondering who was getting Dahyun a bit excited at the gate when you came in,” you say as you’re pouring yourself another cup of brandy this time, since the other drinks were relatively tame for your high alcohol tolerance. “Now with a face to the name, I gotta say, you’re pretty likable already.”

Bottom line, it’s really curious to act this way. Clearly, you’re smiling at the fact that she’s standing there with her arms crossed, you’ve placed your cup down filling the next one, because another wouldn’t hurt.

So how did you and Dahyun meet, you say - palm flat on the foldable table that sends the drinks sloshing slightly at the change in stable weight. I would assume that the story in itself is an interesting one, I hope?

Sana and Dahyun have this exchanging look between the two of them, the infatuation of how their minds are interlinked. These two have been through everything, despite the differences in majors and fields of work - the bond that they have is admirable. “What do you know about me that Dahyun has told you?”

“Whatever that wasn't ordinary already,” you reply. “What also boggles my mind is that–”

“If she told you about the time I almost had to blow my professor to give me a passing grade, she’s dead wrong. It never happened.” That star-stricken grin that has you pouting slightly and rolling your eyes because her answer has you completely way off of left field.

Not that, you add on but-hmm it can only make you wonder of the kinds of things that happened in that period of youth, before Dahyun came along into your life albeit a simple nudge of the shoulder while passing between working schedules. A part of the script of life that’s rewritten in itself and jesus - it’ll sit in the comfy nook of your brain while it sends your heart and gut flipping in all directions.

Let that be a new doc or spreadsheet for you to graph out in your mind, because there’s a lot to compute and learn into getting this right.

–

So it actually turns out that Sana’s the next door neighbor living on the left of your house. She just wasn’t there during the whole moving process before the housewarming party because like Mina, Sana was out and about seeing the world - something about putting some miles in her life trying to cross off one or two things off the bucket list, maybe more.

There’s only some noticeable details to keep track of in a few:

* Said somewhere along the lines of having a fear of heights? Lost a bet to her cousin and went skydiving to get over it.

* Well-spoken, considering that she was in Dahyun’s undergrad cohort before she had a change of heart in her choice of major, leading towards the pipeline of communication studies or working with kids, cute.

* She’s an only child in the family and very accepting of the fact of having a big house to herself (since Juile, her housemate who was also paying for half of the place but hardly around to live inside and still depositing the rent when it was time). Lonely, one might say out of sympathy but that would be undermining her success till now.

* Oh, and that story of her blowing her professor to get a passing grade? Hard to believe how it’s true and very similar to a common storyline you’ve surfed incognito on the internet before.

“Look,” and she says this with a whole hearted laugh when you’re behind her and Dahyun walking out of the side gate. “It was only a one time thing, I swear and plus,” you’re having flash of doubt when Dahyun looks over, and you’re terrible at hiding it because it’s in your eyes, a shake of the head in disbelief when Sana’s shoulders slouch, “we were sophomores that hated that fuckass professor so much, I was willing to take the fall.”

“And you did, but thank god there’s no proof of documentation that recounts such events like those, right? Right?”

A prompting cough deviates the ongoing conversation, “I assume that everything was handled then?” To this, Sana nods - right hand swearing under oath, smiling earnestly with those eyes of hers, left hand supporting her elbow. She’s distracting with how her tank top peeks out with her chest open slightly. In the court of law, she could never get away with testifying let alone convince the grand jury. “I mean, what would happen if there was something that’s sizable enough to damage your image of being this good-willed human being?”

“Then everyone would watch the world burn if that were the true, but I’m cautious of my digital footprint, always making sure that my track record is clean.”

(She’s in the same pedigree as Mina, Lisa, and pretty much everyone that’s occupying the boulevard: poised, casual, stable, know themselves all too well to get what they want - because they always do, it’ll have your head turning from the moment they walk in to when they leave the table. Dahyun gave you the brief rundown about her circle of friends; they’re good people, not wanting to let the finer things of life get to them, stay true to their words, grounded even.)

It’s how the amber light of your garage door shines above that gives Sana this radiating shade of copper in her hair. You’d offer to walk her back to her place if it wasn’t just a few steps away. Better yet, Dahyun would’ve permitted you to do so if you were to ask right now, but it’s fine. The grace period of life works in mysterious ways, funny how this sense of nostalgia comes back when you see two lovely girls play the game of catch-up, hugging after not seeing each other for a couple years.

Tuning back in to the image:

“I’m baffled you’ve managed to land a house like this, especially with your money and the amount of back breaking work you do on a daily basis. Twenty trials? You’re a fucking workaholic.”

The pair of them laugh together, it’s really heartwarming to listen.

Still,

“-plus the extended vacation time you just got-” Sana sounds like a kid on the last days of school trying to come up with a multitude of things to waste time while Dahyun just listens to her rambling; eyes curving up with stupid smiles and the head tilts as if the secrets being exchanged are not meant to be spoken of to others, they look good together, wow. Have we checked the calendar if it’s Pride month still?

When they turn toward you, the actions seem unreal to register. Dahyun’s monolids contrast Sana’s double eyelids, the way Sana’s eyes especially look almond like. Her smile is a little smaller compared to Dahyun’s and when they’re just freely cuddling each other without any spite of jealousy beneath it.

They’re leaving you dumbfounded, consider yourself to be humbled.

Sana breaks the hug first before she lets out an overreaching hand for you to shake. You’ll admit on another given day to Dahyun that Sana’s pretty, the small pull hinting at her smile all the more reason to give a positive outlook for first impressions that will also have you wondering how in the hell isn’t she in a relationship yet. Overkill when she does the line with her eyes while keeping the same smile when mirroring Dahyun’s expression, too.

“Same number as always?” Dahyun asks, clinging onto her hand like she’s going away for a sizable amount of time. “I got nothing for the next couple of weeks.”

“I’ll just walk over and ring the doorbell, don’t bother.” Sana’s answer is optimistic, and you’re hoping she’ll stick to her word because you’re willing to break the lines, the yellow tape at the scene, and ignore the lines of ink blacked out for confidentiality assurance.

You and Dahyun say good night, and she’s just happily bouncing along the sidewalk into her own front yard.

“She likes you, by the way.” Dahyun tells you, slotting herself right underneath your right arm while you’re squinting to see absolutely nothing in the darkness, not even tuned in to what your wife was telling you. A few sweeps of looks across the street pass and you’re rubbing warmth on her shoulder, only to nudge your head slightly to finally hear.

“Sana’s…interesting.” you say, blinking, looking down at Dahyun’s gaze before your eyes shoot away scouring for something else to eye at in the short meantime before a light slap to the stomach sends you snorting out of the quick annoyance. “Hey, based on how she acted, I would’ve thought she’d be anything but ordinary.”

“She’s done some stupid shit, that’s for sure.” Dahyun signs to her own admission, seeing it first hand of the stories that were told an hour ago. “Though, she’s gotten better once I convinced her to see things in a different perspective.”

“Could’ve passed as a good lawyer if you asked me.”

“Please tell me that’s satirical.”

“Wasn’t planning to say, but I guess it just happened.”

A close of the gate and up the steps into the front door, easy to say that getting yourself settled in for once in your life doesn’t seem to be that bad of an idea. The plans themselves are just getting started, drawing them up on the itinerary sometime later this week will get a number of things going.

–

Apparently nobody saw this coming, and let this be an error in the calculations because evidently, this whole ‘summer in the hamptons’ type thing was about to be undermined entirely.

Turns out on the following day, Dahyun gets this business call at around three in the morning, and the phone just keeps vibrating on the nightstand. She eventually lets you off slumbering with the lamp on while she goes to the couch to hear what her boss was egging on about for what you think would be a short call, but it wasn’t.

What you eventually find out hours later is that Dahyun was called in to help play defense in this big lawsuit that was deemed to be ‘the second coming of the Watergate Scandal’. God, those news anchors and journalists need to do a better job of nailing the creative writing aspect because it was just fucking awful when they’re reporting it at eight in the morning after. Apparently you’re also reading an article online on your desktop about Dahyun’s firm coming under fire for a sizable client that’s been doing murky deals behind their backs that would not only jeopardize one branch of the corporate relationship, but all the potential deals that have yet to be signed. It’s a mess. Though, work shouldn’t even be the thought since Dahyun’s pulling out all of these boxes that were related to this case out all over the dining room table that she has to bring back to her office and whatever was on the menu for the boat party next week that you’re having with close family and friends was about to be canceled.

And this has happened on many occasions, but if it involved Dahyun or anything related to the law firm she holds dearly to her heart (of course, you’re first, obviously) the support in her endeavor would always be important to protect.

“I just hoped that they were able to handle this quietly, and without my help.” You’re dipping your head down to spit the last taste of mint from your mouth. Dahyun leans forward on the sink with her ankles crossed, wearing one of your shirts blinking dutifully, quite zoned out while her hand is over your hamstring, tapping it gingerly.

“Well if that were the case, then they would’ve called you in anyway.” You say, raising an eyebrow with the tinge of mouthwash cycling in and out when you spit again. “So much for having your rewarded vacation time.”

Dahyun leans back against the mirror when she’s putting her hair up in this messy bun. She looks a little more relaxed compared to the ragged breaths down your ear when your cock was buried inside her, clinging to your neck while that vicious upstroke of your hips sends her absolutely blown out. The look she gives with her pleading eyes when you take the toothbrush out of her mouth, washing it after she leans over to spit out the toothpaste before handing a washcloth for you to wipe yourself with. “You think I shouldn’t go.”

“Wasn’t really bringing that up for you to consider, but judging how this looks from the outside in, I’d say it’s pretty bad.”

“You’re really not helping my train of thought here,” she sighs, hands bearing her waist, the crinkles of your shirt on her subtly showing that petite frame, the image itself recorded in your memory banks loads of times - each one just like the first, if not better.

Sliding over a few inches to where she sits there idly, your hands placed on the outer rim where her knees bend over the marble counter. She doesn’t change her posture when you’re looking her in the eyes trying to get a read on what her next move might be. Still elegant as ever, Dahyun will always put this appearance on even when it's the simple domestic life she’s living.

Energy levels are still high, and the initial action was to get back to watching this sappy rom-com kdrama that bored Dahyun to the point where she slipped a hand inside your sweatpants just to ‘spice things up a bit’. Once the prompted question of are you still watching appears on the screen after minutes of inactivity, no point in answering it while she’s happily fucking herself over you while you’re sprawled across the satin sheets, gripping into her perfect waist with the sound of her hips with yours bouncing off the new walls.

When’s the flight? You ask her, hand sliding up her thigh slowly. I could put in a word for your associate to get that done, save the trouble. Inevitably, the jaws of justice will soon swallow her up again when she manages to break free from the shackles of court orders and depositions.

“First thing at nine,” she answers, fingers tugging at the midpoint of where the seam of your shirt and the waistband of your sweats meet. “Got some things to pack up soon, but I think most of the papers and boxes won’t be a lot for me to carry on the quick plane trip back.”

“Crazy that they get paid for a short flight from upstate.”

“In addition to the fact that they’re also on my dad’s payroll.”

“A plus I might admit.” you muse.

Dahyun shifts her gaze from right to left, spreading her legs wider when you scoot her hips up to meet yours. The hum of satisfaction that she gives when your eyes flick up to see that rosy shade of pink plastered across her face, eyes waiting, honing on something that she subjects that will be given to her. Precision was one of her key strengths, but when that’s used against her, it’s a completely different story.

When she tugs a little bit more on your undershirt to lift, she usually does so with this sense of security - like a kind of clinginess that you won’t have any sort of complaint against. You’ve understood it to a degree. Whether you’re dropping by the office of the firm or being dragged into the kitchen after sitting on your chair for hours and hours doing analytics and business calls, moments like these with Dahyun are always something to behold. Considerably, you don’t mind giving into her needs for attention; in fact, you’re willing to do that without even thinking twice.

“So,” Dahyun prompts with this sultry voice of hers, clueless and innocently - as if she has no idea what she’s doing to you. With her (your) shirt rumpled all over her body, those pretty eyelashes, her creamy thighs, the way that her fingers are grazing the elastic of both your sweats and boxers, you begin to assess the conditions when you’ve nestled yourself in between her knees, some water staining the gray cotton when you finally lean closer. “How are you gonna handle yourself while I’m gone?”

“I think you’ll lay the severance package,” you say, not giving any faltering sense when she’s ghosting her set of fingertips on the right hand across your chest. “If there’s damages to it, I don’t mind paying up.”

“Non-compete or NDA,” Dahyun huffs, lifting the outer seam of the shirt past her hips, showing the opening underneath where her pussy is glistening with her slick, awaiting your end of the bargain, this non-verbal agreement where she knows that you’ll always deliver the requests and offers. “Besides, you still owe me.”

Laughing, you do recall the statement. It’s funny - there’s a trade off throughout the day earlier where you’re awoken to her warm mouth, deepthroating your cock that leaves you with these sharp inhales. The way her jaw slacks of how she sucks, the mix of spit lathering all over your length while she’s bobbing away between your thighs at ten o’clock on a Saturday morning. Even after Dahyun takes care of the morning wood situation, you pay her back by eating her pussy freely on the kitchen counter as the logical option to keep yourselves occupied while waiting for the oatmeal. There’s no competition between the two of you of who makes the other cum the fastest, the hardest, let alone how many rounds can you do in a day; it really just boils down to this one simple look, a push-pull that sends the neurons firing away automatically - fucking each other ‘just because’ to put it simply.

This girl on the bathroom sink, slouching, head against the mirror still while your hands finally snake under her shirt, feeling the unbelievable midsection under the breasts when she lowers her eyes, leaning up for the touch of your lips.

Every kiss, stolen or prolonged, each one always has the flaps in your heart opening. She’s yours.

Tender at first, but then the heat gets raised up when her arm hooks onto your waist, fighting the slipping tongue that’s breaking away for a slight second in her mouth. Her hands are also grasping for any kind of reach for her to clutch on, no luck for it when she finally takes her fingers into your hair, not wanting to pull away.

Dahyun does this little whine after the quick inhale of air when you slip a finger or two inside her bare cunt, testing the waters as she bites her lip in anticipation. “Don’t do that now,” she spits. That obscene noise coming out of her instantly after when she bucks her hips forward again, accidentally curling a finger in her warm cunt that makes her look away from your intense gaze. “Darling, please–”

“Use your words honey,” you whisper against her lips when you’re tugging on her bottom lip, causing her to sit up straight on the counter, slotting her arms around your neck with hands circling her waist. “Can’t really hear what you’re saying if you’re mopping my face up.”

She’s losing her sense of focus when your fingers continue to bottom out the whole length of them, filling her up and pushing deeper. It also doesn’t help when your thumb presses flat on her clit that sends her mewling at the bend. Her face is against your neck, the steady pace of those staggered breaths against your skin keeps your current operation on the clock, unraveling this line when you’re slipping in and out of her.

“Baby, baby, baby, please–” her heel locks the back of your thigh in place, hitting a kneecap on the cabinet. She’s reduced to these simple words and responses with the heavy breathing. Her hips are nearly coming off the glassy surface of the sink. The shirt’s lifted up beneath her perky mounds (and that fucking underboob is a national treasure in itself), the seal of your mouth is all over her throat: pulling, kissing, gnawing. You kinda feel bad for the concealer pack she’s gonna be using later for a brief afterthought.

Although this little contest of edging Dahyun out to cum wasn’t on the cards for tonight. You’re managing this smile when she pulls the hair tie out of her hair, letting it flow freely. This look of post-sex yet natural style that she does makes you stare in awe when you pull her hips more out at the edge, the way her elbows are propped up nicely and her legs are spread even wider. Her hand pulls the shirt higher, showing her breasts now, the preferred choice of marks that were left there as a reminder from earlier. You slip out of the sweatpants and boxers, fixed on the brushing of her bare cunt just millimeters away from dipping yourself - a teasing tip, then the first couple inches at the half - and that shudder from her hips catches you off guard.

“Yes,” Dahyun moans out that matches your sigh in perfect timing. A moment’s hesitation, replaced with the second necessary action to sink yourself into her more, parting her walls nicely, slowly, until you feel all of her wrapped around you.

She gasps, mewling, spilling out this chain of hitched breaths, “god. honey, your cock–”

It all slides out for a second. Unreal. Then you slam back into her again. Pacing was always the methodical approach, a line into the protocol when Dahyun is writhing in the drag of your cock fucking deep into her cunt, she’s biting her lip at the fact that she’s shimming her legs more out, wanting to choke herself down the length. My god, you’d love to keep the look she has on her face, lips parted at how badly she just wants you to split her in two, seeing the last hint of her pupils rolling back into her brain when you skate the palms of your hands across her stomach, clutching onto her perky breast when the tempo starts to increase.

When your hands finally nestle into the curve of her hips, they stay there. They’re already at a good place when your cock finally feels all of her, so wet, so tight. A slight throb along the length when you drag yourself out, that small pocket of air escaping before the vice seals shut again. She’s unbelievably perfect, one label off the list from your head when you’re fixed on the sight of your length disappearing inside her, head tilting forward with every stroke back in.

“You’re so - mmh,” Dahyun hitches her breath, shuddering, you could feel the rise and fall of her chest when your hand clutches her thigh. A choked out sob leaves her lips, and you’re impressed at the composure of nailing her cunt, the same spot being hit deep, even deeper, to that one area where she’s lost herself before. “Fucking big for me, this cock - feels so good-”

“Dahyun...” you hiss, shifting your hands down to the soft cushion of her ass, sinking down once again, then another, and then another, sliding her out across the counter before you’re driving her back in, this never-ending piston into the fiery pit of heat, stretching her out, twisting that nimble body of hers into your own creation, coaxing every exhale you catch from her abdomen. “Your pussy is so–”

What you meant to say was, “your pussy is so fucking tight, god damnit-” You know what, the thought can barely even be formed in your head when you meet Dahyun’s eyes, slowly fluttering shut with her teeth slowly disappearing behind her lip. That, and the feeling of her walls imploding your cock to the remnants of awareness you had left.

It’s also pretty funny to think how Dahyun was fucking herself freely over you just an hour ago, only for her to be used like this and she knows you simply can’t help yourself.

“Love, I can’t - shit,” that utterance nearly takes everything ouight of you to say; everything about it is euphoric, the way you have her legs up, bottoming her out. You look at her again, and she has her hand over her mouth, trying to fight that natural clench when your cock fills the heat inside her. “You’re so good for me, spreading yourself open like this. Fuck.”

This is a case that you’ll take to your grave, knowing all of your wife’s body so well to the point that every kiss, thrust, moan, hell even the appearance when she’s like this for you will be more than enough to last as much as possible. Dahyun knows the switch off too - aside from the fact that she’s cock drunk every single fucking time you fuck her brains out - and she loves this. You see it in her pupils, the desperation to tear all the edges apart, the signal for you to finally wreck her in the way that she wants you to.

“Don’t stop,” she begs, chest heaving heavily when her legs wrap around your waist, propping herself up for you to take her waist into your chest, letting out these songs of pleas that’s encouraging you to get to that edge first. You could feel her body going limp, the support is almost reflexive while your hips continue to pummel her out.

“You-” you try to say. Fuck. It goes everything against the directive you’ve put yourself in, the noises of your skin clashing with hers, creating this filthy yet harmonious sound that only gets more and more harder. Dahyun’s breathless moans keep you in check when your motions start to get irregular, inconsistent, keeping yourself busy with your mouth all over her chest. “God, Dahyun–”

“Do it baby,” she whispers into the cuff of your ear, “Keep fucking my pussy. Pound me like this.” Her hand does this simple action, and it’s lethal. All it took was a simple palm to your cheek, it’s filled with little meaning but carries so much intimacy. Moans and grunts continue to slip out while you search for her eyes, feeling that pull in your waist, grip tightening and loosening as you’re mindlessly thrusting. “You’re getting close for me, aren’t you?”

“Honey,” and at this point you’ve got it all spun out of control, “You feel so fucking good.”

“I know, baby.” Dahyun ignores your words of affirmation, smirking. “You know what to do.”

God. She can kill you, bring you back to life, and kill you all over again. Begging was already done before, you’ve fucked her way past her orgasm on mulitiple occasions - using her as your cumdump; doesn’t matter what time of the day or what you’re doing. The endgame was always this: having you completely fucked out in that velvety smooth pussy of hers - all wet and warm enough for you to live in.

With your teeth gritting and a final huff of air blowing past your nostrils, you cum inside her, filling her sloppy cunt all the way up.

Dahyun is sinister, it’s not up for a fair debate. When she coos and hums into your ear canal, you’re battling every urge to just wrap your fingers all over the column of her throat, use the remaining bits of pulse in your member to get her screeching. Alas, you hold yourself back while the ropes of cum are spurting around her walls, her mouth also gaping open when the fourth and fifth pulse out your cock weakly.

There’s this pause soon after, a collection of breath between the two of you that constructs a reconsideration of your choices. Dahyun has this telepathic connection with your mind that makes the connection instantaneous - you don’t say anything because there’s this one look in her eyes, hanging in the atmosphere bathed with afterglow - and she knows.

When you do slide out of her swollen cunt, there’s a considerable amount of your cum dripping out of her, slapping the tip along the outside of her folds just to tease her before retreating away entirely. The image of her legs spread out and her back laid across the sink will be saved into your memory for you to look on sometime in the future, or maybe even next week.

“So,” you mutter, shaking off the small jitters of blood loss to the head when you’re massaging Dahyun’s thighs, “Have I paid off my case in due time?”

Dahyun chuckles, a single finger raised up from the wreck beneath to get a taste, licking her lips following the fingertip. She wiggles up on her hands to sit on the counter again, hair flipped to one side while she lets the shirt fall down to cover her body, “Hate to say it, but you always do.”

“That’s good to know.”

“I’m also saying that you could use my help.”

“Ha Ha,”

“What? I’m serious.”

“I’m serious. Well so am I.” Dahyun sarcastically says, slapping your hip that makes your cock jump suddenly. You can see the dashes appear on her face when she lets out this simple smile, the eyes disappearing reflecting the same expression on her lips. She could saunter around the courtroom making a solid case for the defense, but no one would know the fact she’s all liquid putty when you have your hands on her like this. “I appreciate the thoughtful offer, but I think someone’s gotta guard the house while I handle work.”

“I’m gonna hate you by the end of this.”

“How bout you flip me over and rail my ass on the sink again?”

You’re starting to curse that concrete jungle a little more by the end of it.

–

Okay, to cut to the chase, there might’ve been a slight miscalculation that you had panned out in your head.

You switch on the TV two days later and Dahyun’s already made her way back to ground zero in the city to handle this case, where it completely spirals into an absolute shitshow. All gloves are off when the story gets released out to the public, scapegoating one of Dahyun’s board members having themselves tangled in an affair with one of the staff. Sure, it could've been an analytical approach to brush off the heat that’s only growing by the second - a shitty attempt you might also think; either way, this trial was crucial for your wife’s firm to win because in the scenario that they lose, all credibility and positive imagery surrounding them will plummet and that equals no more lawyer work for Dahyun.

She was optimistic at first while on the phone with you, talking about how this case should’ve been a cakewalk to handle, predicting the possible time period of when she should come back home to finally relax with all that hard work paid off temporarily. You’re smiling at the fact that she sounds composed, no hint of stress lying in her tone, riding on that high when you have her bucking into your hips just an hour before her private plane trip to the firm.

It’s only a matter of time before all of this blows over, you think. Not your fault also when the house feels suddenly empty in the wake of this unexpected catastrophe.

You’re hearing this definition of a fortnight. As in, Dahyun’s projected time when she could get out of the office and have someone else handle the case on her behalf. A little unusual for her to indulge in the understanding of the term itself, not while you’re making yourself dinner with the chops of onions on the cutting board and the phone being on speaker off to the right side.

“Two weeks?” you’re asking, the dice of onion cubes being skated off into the pot left to boil while stirring. “That’s a pretty big ask for you to take up with your boss.”

“Why do you think I’m hitting you with the English lesson?”

“Babe, you’re talking about a term that was used in the freaking 1800s.” you laugh, leaning back on the counter, glass of water in your hand as one of the stupid actions that most people tend to do when talking to their crush. “Would’ve been better if you just said two weeks instead of a fortnight. What do you think I am? Some kid that’s withering their life away over some video game?”

“There you go again.” She laughs out loud. You can envision the picture of her rolling her eyes at you when you spew out complete nonsense that won’t comprehend in her brain since her lifestyle doesn’t line up with it.

“Sorry,” you mutter, smirking with a dimple poking out against the touchscreen. “Seriously, when do you think you’re gonna make it back?”

“Honestly, I don’t think it’ll be anytime soon.” she admits, hearing the click of your tongue over the speaker when you’re accepting the fact that her job might potentially be on the line if she were to leave early. “I know we said two weeks, but in this case-” You can hear her stop short when she clears the lump in her throat before continuing, “This trial might drag on for who knows how long? It might be a few days, two weeks, a month? Everything is laid out for us to fail.”

“And you won’t.” you tell her, reminding the positives going forward. “Maybe it could look bad, but I’m certain that you’ll do a good enough job with what you have to work with. I’m sure of that.”

That sigh of relief you hear through the phone. Yeah, you’re right. I get it. A little reassurance goes a long way for someone in her field dealing with that kind of work - not that you would relate or somewhat imagine what it would be like to be in Dahyun’s shoes, but aside from all bad things, you know that she’s headstrong to the point where none of this should even faze her in the first place.

“You know you can’t go back to the old place, dummy.” you laugh, opening the lid of the pot that unleashes a quick cloud of steam rising above the rim. “Where are you planning on staying in the meantime while working?”

“Minju has a guest room at her place.” Dahyun answers, “I’d figured that I should tell you this, but I think she and her associate are having a little thing together.”

“And this is news to me, how?”

“Because I’ve seen him and her get a lot closer than usual.” she adds, “You do remember that we have this policy that’s strict on relationships around the office–”

“But you and I, along with some other considerable names and high-ranking figures, are the exception. I know. We’ve been over this story a bunch of times already.”

Dahyun straightens herself up on the couch over the phone, folding her legs inward on the seat, sighing, smiling. “Are you eating dinner this late?”

“Well, if you consider ten-thirty to be late to have myself a meal, then yeah, you can call that to be a late dinner.”

“Rude,” she muses. “Can’t your wife have a little bit of curiosity about your day while being alone? Missing me?”

“I guess, but there’s nothing to report on my end.”

She hums, and you can picture the pout she’s putting on whenever you give her an open ended answer that could totally be expanded on if you just put the effort into it. Dahyun knows you're lazy to an extent when it’s off work hours, and she doesn’t blame you for that. “Have you been using your hand to keep yourself occupied while I’m gone, baby?”

“Sweetie,” you chuckle, tongue against the inside part of your bottom lip when you automatically realize what she’s trying to do - what she’s trying to make you do. “No, we’re not doing this.”

“Aw, why not?”

“Because I can only do so much to keep myself sane while you’re not here.”

“Fine,” Dahyun sighs out in defeat, and you turn off the stove to let the signature dish of your mother’s pork stew cool down before you get to eating. “One last thing,” she starts, “Sana wants a favor from you while I’m not there.”

“Hmm?” you sound off, getting a small taste test of the minimal viscosity of the soup you just cooked. “What does she need help with?”

“Just some heavy lifting around her place,” Dahyun answers, yawning. “I told her that she could come by the house to get you and help with whatever she needs.”

“You’re setting me up, aren’t you.”

A soft giggle could be heard in the background on Dahyun’s end. It probably shouldn’t mean anything, but a suspicion starts formulating in the back of your head. This could mean one of two things: you’re either fucked for the potential summer, or fucked for the potential summer.

“Help Sana out tomorrow,” Dahyun instructs. “I don’t think anything bad will happen if you’re stuck with her.”

–

Turns out that Dahyun would be right when you do stand at the steps of Sana’s front door, hand at the hip while the few seconds of silence runs the possible uncertainties through your head.

A swing of the door inward: “Howdy stranger, have my pizza?”

You get a good look at her. She’s wearing these thinly rimmed glasses, the middle wire sitting nicely on the bridge of her nose. Her long sleeve hugs her shoulders nicely, tugging at the fabric while her other arm is raised on the door. The shorts are also doing a number on you internally, highlighting the ridiculously long legs that has miles and miles of skin, aside from the fact that they appear to be too short (and also pink, but fuck, man.) Cozy, homebody type of vibe, is what you end off with.

“Hey.” And this comes off as a half-choke in the fumble of words, “Dahyun said that you needed some help?”

Sana cocks her head off to the side, brows attracted inwardly, lost for a second before she fully realizes the present dilemma that she’d had happen to forget. “Oh, I did ask for a few things.”

“Fingers crossed your to-do list isn’t full?”

She does this subtle nod of her head motioning you to come inside, and you hesitate for a second, peering over past her head of brown hair to see the state of the place and here’s how it looks: everything has a very simplistic aesthetic, blank tones of the furnishings and floorboards complimenting each other the more you and her make your ways around the place. Some boxes are still present here and there, half-open, half-closed, like the items in them haven’t found their rightful place amongst the shelves and cupboards and closets between the rooms. Sana mentions also that her and Julie also have similar tastes, but given the fact that they both haven’t been in the place that often because of their work, it’s pretty disappointing to take away.

“How long have you had this house?” you ask, picking up a picture frame off one of the tables in the living room that has Sana and this other gorgeous girl leaning her head in with hers, you can’t put a name to her, but curiosity will come later when the time is right.

“Just like you, not that long actually,” Sana answers, rounding past the corner towards the kitchen when you pick up on the lasting trail of her footsteps to meet her at point B. “Julie and I only managed to settle in about a few weeks ago before she went overseas for some big movie project that she’s a part of. Other than that, it’s just been me here all by myself.”

“That doesn’t sound fun.”

“I find it calming to have a big house with multiple rooms without the sense of company.”

Your eyes trail off in the distance of this closed space. It looks barren, but rich, with the sense of presence from all of the different decorations and paintings all over the walls and tables. You might mistake this as a museum, an unplanned exhibit with your neighbor as the centerpiece of this gallery.

“So,” you start to say, arms cross when you’re watching Sana on the opposite side of the kitchen island, sipping on a glass of strawberry lemonade, looking back at you with wide eyes, those pouty lips on the rim–

She points to the set of disregarded items off to your left side behind, the same set of boxes you noticed when walking in, “I need to get these things out of there and placed around the house,” and she starts to round the area of the kitchen to get closer to you, “and my garage door needs some fixing since it won’t open for some reason”

“You really think I’m qualified to help you with the garage?” you raise an eyebrow in suspicion.

“Dahyun asked you to help me, so please, make us happy.”

–

The first meeting with Sana happens quite quickly. It should’ve ended there - a simple favor fulfilled and get on with continuing the daily routines around the house and neighborhood.

Except it doesn’t happen that way. Not when Sana catches your attention when you’re taking out the trash, watering Dahyun’s little growing garden, when you’re getting your morning and evening runs up the hill and round the block, she always seems to get you caught in her lines of sight.

You’re not against it however, taking a liking to have a quick chat with Sana about different things that were worth bringing up - it’s the simple camradire that’s developed rapidly after the housewarming party. She’s interested to see you with the garage open, finding a new thing to tinker and fix with the car (although modding a tesla would make some vehicle enthusiasts want to rip out their hair and gouge their fucking eyeballs,) she just makes the minute trip from her house over to yours just to talk.

Dahyun’s calls circulate every now and then, getting the quick rundown of what’s been happening while she’s knee-deep in trial work down at the firm. You simply smile while tapping on the camera switch icon on facetime to have her look at the group of Sana, Jihyo and her summer flirt, Mina, along with a few others just have a communal game night of Mario Kart down at Sana’s place when everything is settled in. Before that, you were explaining the fascination of this ancient city that you’ve been reading into between business calls and graph inputs during work that may sound like you’re a boring professor talking about history.

None of that would matter because Sana’s house is like this ancient city that’s riddled with riches and items of materialistic value that would probably convince someone else that their money is being wasted over meaningless items rather than propper investments. You get a few nods of agreement, maybe some fingersnaps because what you’re saying could be plausible with the amount of knowledge you’ve consumed to tell without boring everybody.

“I could care less if that were the case,” Sana says, leaning closer on the couch while running a hand through her hair, the flowy locks combined with that cropped Prada shirt could have you reeling in an alternate universe, but it doesn’t.

“Sana,” you call out, Jihyo’s also giggling at the fact before you even say it also, “your walk in closet is literally the devotion of this ‘city of gold’ I’m talking about.”

“Hey!” and she’s taking this with a light offense, “I only say that it’s true because where else am I supposed to put the dresses?”

“I suppose they could go somewhere else that doesn’t take up space in the racks?”

“You’re the one who helped me put them up anyway!”

“Don’t get all defensive now because I’m talking about it.”

She cracks this smile while Mina sounds off with a ‘boo’ noise, “You can take your little history tangent up your ass then.”

To that, you raise an open bottle of White Owl to her face, downing a bit of the drink while she rolls her eyes, narrowing while she purses her lips. She’s lining her fingers across the bottom of her chin, intuitively, studying the movements of your hands and eyes, getting a read of what makes you tick.

Even after the activities of game night are all wrapped up, you stay behind in Sana’s house, picking up the assortments of empty glasses and bottles, the charcuterie board that’s scavenged through, except the stack of cheese that was apparently stale and too cold to even dig their teeth in.

“Care for some cereal?” Sana prompts after the final sweep.

“You’re asking me to have a night breakfast?”

“You’re making it sound like it’s something to be frowned upon.”

“Then why the paradoxical proposal?”

She doesn’t bother answering that with a simple hum while you’re chuckling lowly. There’s already two bowls on the counter, and not long after, she’s holding out two boxes: Frosted Flakes and Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

“I like the choices.” you tell her, placing yourself on one of the high chairs while Sana slides one of the boxes over with the jug of milk trailing just behind it. You snap a picture of yours and Sana’s bowls to send over to Dahyun and in which she responds in three seconds - you fell for the cereal bait tactic.

What? I got courted with Frosted Flakes and you know this, they’re great.

She did the same thing to me back in college, but that’s her ‘ol reliable’.

Sana swipes your phone from your hand that you try to get back, but she skips a few feet away and starts to text in your place. “What are you texting Dahyun about?”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“That’s my phone you’re using.”

Sana parts her mouth open, humming once, “I’m too lazy to grab mine from the living room.”

“You’re texting my wife.” you deadpan.

“She was mine first before you came along.”

You roll your eyes. Ouch. But you sigh once the defeat settles itself back in over you. All that you’re just left to do is get these soggy, milky grains down before you eventually pack it up for the night.

“Thanks again for staying back to help,” Sana tells you on the front step of her yard, “worth the treat of cereal as a reward.”

“Nice to have some company, especially when there’s video games that make me feel like a careless child again.”

“We’re all a little starved for a little fun, glad I contributed to that reach of youth.”

And this comes out of nowhere, really, you miss Dahyun around the house and it’s felt like ages since you’ve last seen her.

Sana has her knuckles against her cheek, the fingers are well refined, she has that glow on her face and that small hint of a dimple that breaks out underneath and well - that same pout you saw last time breaks into this perfect grin of hers that’s filled with uncut happiness, the way her eyes arch into that same eye smile Dahyun has really makes you think twice about your situation.

It’s embarrassing, but you miss Dahyun while there’s this small crush of Sana growing inside you. Going against your vow might be one thing, but your heart can’t help itself to only tell you over your mind - well shit. Congrats.

Though, she’s reeling you back in after seeing Hailey’s comet above, calling your name that makes you unsure if you even know your own name.

“Will you be busy for the rest of the week?” She prompts.

“You can just come past the gate and ring the doorbell, I’ll always answer.”

Sana doesn’t say anything more than that, only giving you the usual ‘good night’ message before she sends you off on your way, just a few feet to the side and behind another door.

–

Some weeks pass. It’s late, and hot. The combination of this nightly hot climate doesn’t serve anyone well.

You hear a knock at the door that has you scratching your head over the fact on who would be at your front doorstep around this time. All of that gets thrown out the window when you look up past the column of wood to see Sana standing there, bundled up in gray sweats and an oversized sweater that’s draping her frame, two sizes too big, her shoulder noticeable to see. She has nothing else on or with her besides the phone in her hand.

“It’s the middle of the night,” you announce, squinting at the light towering over you and her in the front patio of the house, letting out a sigh while Sana just wiggles her body side to side, acting all innocent knowing that she knows what she’s doing. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping already?”

Sana finds your reactions to be funny. For every question, you give her a simple or calculated answer. A greeting in the morning or afternoon would be short and sweet ending off with ‘let me know if you ever need anything’ before heading back inside with the daily mail or some vacuum or bundle of rags to clean from the garage. Every blurt or sexual comment would send you coughing or spitting out some of your water when Sana’s dropping by to see what you were doing. Most girls other than Dahyun in her position would be automatically disinterested, not your fault for being naturally dry and introverted.

“Julie crashed at Natty’s place, so I managed to drive myself back home.” Sana replies with a pull of her lips, breaking a sly grin when you return the same nod, prompting her to come inside because it wouldn’t be like you to keep a beautiful girl from around the neighborhood just standing outside your doorstep.

The hums that come out of Sana’s mouth are refreshing, in addition to the little swing of her head back and forth when she moves past the first lounge area of your house to between the dining table and kitchen where she stops short for a second, looking off to the left, formulating a thought. You had the lights dimmed around the place, but you catch the silhouette of her side profile while a hand is behind her back, like one of those poses that she did for a magazine not too long ago that she shared when you finished up moving the last bits of her boxes.

“Why come to my place?” you ask, flicking a light switch that brightens the area right outside leading up to the backyard. “Are you that bored around your house that you just walk over to mine?”

“Not denying that I’m bored,” Sana amends, turning towards you again, “just wanted to give you some company.”

“Sana, it’s late.”

“Remind me again,” she pouts, the lift of her eyebrows makes you slightly cringe, “How long has Dahyun been busy with her work and that trial of hers?”

“Last I heard from her was that she’s almost done closing off the settlements.”

“Good, and you haven’t been losing your mind over the fact that your wife’s not with you.”

“Can I live normally while Dahyun gets to play the main breadwinner in the relationship?”

Sana coos after that. She keeps this longing gaze at you while you’re returning the same fix on her. The end point of her nose, the lines of her cheek, that over peeking collarbone when she sweeps her hair from the front to the back with a little flip; you tell her that the downtime you were mainly focused on was trying to get back to sleeping, but the damn heat was the main excuse and to that she laughs, scrunching her face when she can see right through the poorly constructed lie.

It’s distracting, the small rumbling of this breaking desire - makes you feel uncertain in how you should approach the current dwindling situation.

Falling off the curve, however, Sana asks you: “Do you mind if I can take a swim in your pool?”

–

This should be a page in the history books, ripped away and shrouded in the shadows, never to be disclosed to anyone else that isn’t yourself.

It’s also completely harmless when you’re mindlessly handing Sana one of your spare towels sitting in the bathroom, smiling sincerely when she accepts the simple item of hospitality with the add on of, if you also need some extra clothes to wear because you dipped your feet in the pool with the overhanging flared sweatpants of yours getting stained, I can lend you a pair while it dries up - pick it up tomorrow or have it dropped off-

She floats her way down the steps, towel over her shoulder, “I’d take an extra pair of pants to use after I finish, thank you.”

You nod, letting herself like at home as if her own home wasn’t only less than five seconds away next to yours. The glass sliding door opens up to the balcony when you finally hear the light crash of water being made from the floor below.

There’s something calming about the light blue glow being illuminated from the pool, looking up at the different stars and constellations with today’s moon being somewhat of a mix between a half moon slowly transitioning into a crescent. Dahyun was also with you in this same position after the first night of moving in, pointing out the basic lines of the Big Dipper and the Alpha Centauri, you showing her Orion’s belt before she made a counterargument that it wasn’t a freaking belt, but it just goes to show that you’re just counting the days down until Dahyun gets back from brining the trial win home.

Looking down, you just see Sana the singular hint of honey brown sitting on the edge of the pool before slowly dipping in, getting the ends of her hair wet before tying it up in a high bun and happily floating in place, sighing while the refreshing yet, cool temperature of water settle around her body.

The room of your study looks tempting to set up base camp, not the worst option to consider also as a form to keep yourself occupied while your bubbly neighbor was right outside your backyard swimming in the night.

(God’s really picking and choosing your battles in any way that he pleases, huh?)

You stay the course, grabbing a quick bottle of Heiniken from the fridge when you’re seeing the sight of Sana’s shoulders and arms breaking the flow of water, her head just above the turquoise surface, the light shining beneath her face to get a good glimpse of her rosy cheeks, those lips tugged at the ends of them in a soft smile, the line of her neck also doing you numbers than the beverage in your hand before you’ve even got a propper sip.

Sana looks towards the back of the house, you raise the bottle up to let her know that you’re still here, noticing the pile of clothes on one of the lounge chairs, neatly folded with her phone as the cherry on top.

Here’s where you make mistake #1: The second bottle in your left hand needs a drinker, and you step your way out into the boardwalk of your pool. A missing piece of detail that you completely ignored was how Sana’s pile of clothes was lacking one vital part–

“I find it to be pretty peculiar for my wife’s friend to be skinny dipping in my pool at around this hour.” you inform Sana of the situation, to which she softly laughs at the observation while you’re kneeling at the edge, placing the two bottles off to the side that you’ll get back to later.

Sana floats her way to the edge of the pool right next to you, arms hanging on the deep end while looking up, “Didn’t think I needed the necessary layers, no?”

“You want to tell me about layers when you’re wearing nothing underneath.”

“Where’s the fun in having swimsuits and trunks?” she teases, “it’s too much of a hassle for me to go through the exhausting process of changing in your spare bathroom that’s miles away from the pool.”

“There was literally a bathroom for you next to the kitchen that you passed by to get here.“

“Why don’t you join me? The pool’s too big to have one person inside.”

No. No. Don’t even think about–

“And if I refuse?” you ask quickly, naively.

Sana leans her head back, and your eyes can’t help in anything besides fucking you up. The waves of the water cleared up, returning to its calm, idle state where you catch the highlighted sallow skin against the light, catching her hips and legs flowing freely. She lets her lower body rise up to the surface, hands still alongside the edge almost as if she’s lounging on the nearby chairs - it also hits you that she’s doing it on purpose, the fact that her bare ass is just out in the open air for you to see–

Right on cue, mistake #2: you sit down nicely, criss-cross like a little kid; and Sana scoots herself to where you’re sitting, closely, dangerously.

“I’ve got some pull for you to rethink, take my offer into some light consideration.” she muses, and the leaning closer coming from you is seriously not helping. She’s got her hand laying below your knee, and she might as well be right under you with the ground advantage.

That same lean is also curious; it’s also pretty familiar too - how the natural state of gravity works, Dahyun reeled you in to some similar form a long while ago - forget if or maybe if the fact she looked first or you looked first, it doesn’t matter. One key difference between that event and now was the fact that you realize that you’ve toppled over and into the swimming pool, clothes still on and everything, the brisk feeling of water washing over before you find yourself breathing, ears getting flushed out and replaced with Sana’s sweet laugh to top if all off.

You swipe your hands through your soaked face, slowly floating to the shallow end while cringing at the present moment that just occurred. The blend on your shirt and sweats mold to your figure, like someone had slapped clay on you. Chlorine is not good for the eyes, obviously, so keep rubbing your eyes and clearing out any sinuses while telling Sana that you’re not inviting her in the next time after this night.

Sana has this effect on people, so natural and open to the point with others that she’s hugging everyone and doing skinship as she pleases, you’re not far off from the latter, in fact–

“I thought you’d be a little more vocal with the fact I pulled you in,” she tells you, turning away slightly when you splash a hint of water as she approaches you.

“It’s cold,” you say blankly, slicking your hair back while Sana closes the distance. Sly smile and everything.

“That’s all you have to say?” she asks, “So dry.”

“Aside from the fact that you’re swimming naked in my pool, I think there’s more pressing issues for me to take care of.”

Pressing issues noted, Sana is well within arms reach, except you have another look at her charming face, her body under the water - she’s well defined in all avenues, fair skin that would even rival Dahyun’s for a quick comparison, her hands continue to do their own thing when they’re measuring the shape of your middle, fingertips grazing the soaked shirt and all.

“I’m sorry” she breathes out, the faintest apology of them all.

You’ve got your arms around her waist, not a care to fully realize what you’re actually doing; it’s a collapse in real time, her hand to the back of your neck: mistake #3.

With a simple press of her lips on yours, she grips tightly, the draw of air clouding the intoxicating taste that has you humming a bit, the slide of her fingers down the line of your jaw before going off the rails with replacing the hand with a full on arm, hooking onto your neck while you move up to her upper back.

But this inferno was unraveling.

Her legs fill the gap between yours, hands are now on both sides of her face, thumb sliding across that prominent cheek bone that will have you sculpting out the details some other time. She’s kissing you like she wanted this to happen, the desperation, hunger even, like it would be the last thing needed over everything else, and you’d give that to her. It’s all sinking, that box of thoughts that was supposed to stay at the bottom of the ocean, the sealed lock intact and with no key to open, it’s resurfacing like the breaths of air you and Sana share with your faces just centimeters away from each other.

“Do you think you can forgive me?” she stops to ask.

A fucking truck of reasoning is what hits you, pulling back even more but your hands are now keeping Sana in place, just right above her ass holding at the hips. “Yes- no-” She pulls you in for another convincing kiss before another could be stolen on her cheek, the same sigh she sounded in your throat a few seconds ago comes around. “I don’t know anymore.”

“It’s okay to not know.” Sana’s face softens when you can’t even bother to look her in the eyes now, tilting your chin up to support, lightly stroking it. “We probably shouldn’t.”

She’s right. You’ve got to end this and you have to end it now.

“But what if we did?” You’re left breathing, in disbelief.

“Would you want to find out?” Sana asks again, unsure but also confident. “There’s this kind of luxury I’m fascinated with discovering the unknown.”

You’re thinking of these different stories in your head, the different kinds of graphs and tables riddled with numbers trying to come up with a logical case, predicting a scenario where you could forget about all of this, count the days until you won’t be alone again with the right person. Except Sana is dishing out all of these simple motions that have you leaning in for more, yearning. A hand is being slid across the shoulder, her face is suddenly closer with yours when you pull her towards you. “I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t afraid.”

“Don’t feel bad,” she tells you, a comforting whisper, wisping in the breeze. “You’ll be able to catch on quickly.”

(If there was anything that you’ve noticed while starting this new chapter: you’ve learned that the sly smile armed by Minatozaki Sana will have anybody flipping over, ruining lives and starting fires.)

All common sense gets tossed out of the pool when you kiss her again, a choice that will have its own consequences when the time is right, the floodgates of sin opening harshly while you've just signed your one-way ticket straight to hell.

–

Another thing that you learn from the houses that are oozing with richness up and down the street is that money and sex have powerful selling points.

This may be subject to change, but when you have an art piece like Sana stolen from the museum of her house (figuratively), all fingers and charges point toward theft, the necessary offenses that follow after don’t really matter as of right now.

–

It’s not that difficult for you to fall in a place like this: carrying Sana up the steps but only stopping short at the doorway when she’s lapping her tongue into your mouth. She’s still wet in your hands from the pool, and you have the wall play as a part to keep her in place - the fit of your lips breaking apart before they find themselves again.

“Mmm,” Sana hums into your mouth when you finally let her down, on the balls of her feet while your hands wrap around her waist again, knee lightly nudging the apparent line of your cock with the pads of her fingers soon after, testing it.

“Hey,” you mumble, pulling away with an audible smack from her lips, tongue licking your mouth while she softly laughs, and again - it’s definitely on purpose when her hand palms your cock more firmly through the soaked sweatpants that has you gasping for a millisecond. “Trying to get on with it faster now, are we?”

Her hand sets itself on your chest, eyes meeting with hers half-lidded, she knows what she’s doing, she knows that this is wrong, and she most definitely knows that this is on purpose. You tilt your head more deeper only for her to stop you for not more than two seconds, before easily allowing you to kiss her once again.

“Who’s leading?” Sana laughs at herself, still stark naked when your hands land at the rise of her hip, massaging the slope of her ass with the droplets of water gliding across your palms. “Wouldn’t be right of me to do all of the hard work, begging at the fact that you’re about to fuck me over in this huge house, get your fingers inside and finally have that perfect dick that Dahyun always talks about.”

“She told you?”

“Much like every time we catch up. Always.”

“What do you know so far?”

Sana sighs when you kiss her again, the lines on her face softening like a flush of anxiety that suddenly went away in a matter of a second. Your hand is quick to travel to the back of her head, pull the elastic of her hair tie that lets her locks flow down while the counterpart is palming her warm, bare cunt, eliciting a slight gasp while you’re smiling into her skin. “She- she told me that you were disappointing the first time y-you guys did it.”

“Oh?” you mutter, thumb tapping on her clit that makes her whole body stiffen while the pad of your middle finger slowly scoops under her folds, noting how much she’s gotten slick in the short span of time. “The inexperience was the main factor.”

Another finger pushes inside, feeling the stretch while your ear receives the steady decline of Sana’s breaths, lip being pulled inward by the upper row of her teeth while her chest heaves, the heat becoming too unbearable to handle. She’s not one to let you take the easy route, putting her lips back with yours while you scoop under her luscious ass, walking past the doorway and into the bedroom - a space where Dahyun’s appearance was the common one - now introducing a newcomer that will make her case to stay.

The landing on the bed isn’t gentle, and Sana slightly sets herself up on one elbow, while you’re tugging the sopped clothes off your body, trying to get a read into this pretty woman’s eyes of the things you want to do to her. You’ll make her cum, flip her into the mattress, have her bouncing on your cock later, get her whimpering while you drink in the sight of her pretty face just blown out, euphoric, the writing’s already on the wall before you even get a chance to draw the pen.

“You think I’m gonna disappoint you with my performance? Maybe prove that Dahyun’s point still stands?” you ask her, making your space bigger over hers when you’re on top of her, pulling from the hips to get her to meet your thighs. Sana bites her lip in a short excitement, keeping her gaze on yours when her fingers finally wrap around your cock, giving a few experimental pumps while she spreads wider, opening the gates to an avenue that will have you packing your bags to the next house over. “Imagine if–”

“I’ll make you shut up about your worries, now fill my pussy up. With your fingers, your cock, just anything, please.”

She’s desperate for you, and you have to admit it too, but when that first rush of every single sensation registering in your mind from the very instant you have your cock wrapped around her, sliding inside those lines with the small tug of your hips, pushing more while you could feel nails rip into your skin.

It’s a new entry of data, the approach of how Sana’s pussy is downright perfect for you. There’s a slight throb, a misfire when the strokes are still hesitant, uncertain exchanges of breaths with the slow blinks between her eyes and yours. Uninviting, but all the more welcoming with her walls, clinging into the deeper ends of her cunt, breaking down the imaginary lines of numbers and rope circling through your head.

“My, fuck–” and you also choke out something too when she says that, the muted cry she let out while you take a moment to readjust, sliding out before you yank Sana’s hips onto your cock again. “T-this is everything.”

Like you need the exposition on the term everything. All of your worries wash away when you thrust more ferociously, the internal bomb in your brain ticking away the time every single speck of seconds that passes through burying your cock inside her. You’re nowhere near gentle at this point, the squeeze that has you mirroring Sana’s “hnns” over the claps of your thighs with hers, taking advantage of the arch in her back by hooking your arms underneath while one of her long legs locks around you.

“So good,” she just groans out, relishing in the feeling of it. “Don’t stop–”

You’re also not safe from it either, fingers resting alongside her midriff where her hands are placed on top, grasping at the new angle of your hips where it has her wheezing, the fresh spot of heat hitting the base also making your lose your sense of awareness, reduced to nothing but just a desolate being of a husband that’s throwing their marriage away.

Her creaming cunt only keeps you focused, the pretty sounds and remarks coming out of her mouth has you giving her expressions of confusion, lust, shock, and maybe that longing look of when you see someone at first sight and it just kills you, right then and there. The sheets come undone, a pillow is used as a secondary support underneath her back, a clutch of the tit and she does this simple evil grab of your hips while you’re ruthlessly pounding into her helpless body, utilized as a vice the more you hold your end of the bargain.

“Sana, you’re–” and again, the mind blanks out of this small blurb of praise before she just giggles for her response, fucking her so throughly that you’re running the different combinations of tempos to get her even more ruined, fucked dumb, maybe even have her begging to be used over your cock like this again soon - the eventuality of that notion will be all too apparent when the sun rises the next morning.

She just clings to you, keeping your hips in motion while her hands cup around your face once more, pulling inward for that press of lips all over again like the beginning. You feel the wobbling lip, a thumb quick to keep her coaxing while she whimpers in absolute bliss.

“I want you,” she huffs, and you’re falling through the cracks with every steady stroke of your cock between the opening of her legs, “to make me cum. Make a mess out of me and this pussy.”

You’re taking shelter between her mounds, not wanting to look up in pension for the cardinal sins committed tonight, lips swiping up and down her neck that has Sana moan out in approval, the clamp of her walls tightening every return back to the bottom, her hands are over your back, tracing lines, fantasizing. She’s a fucking waterfall every thrust you take.

“I’m- fuck–you’re gonna–gonna make me cum so fucking hard.” you feel the pulse impending, the muffled squeak that she makes in your lips, she’ll be the first to fall. That eruption happens fast, the spasm and tighter grab in her walls around you while she’s crying for now.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for this incident, a flashpoint in time that was probably bound to happen, fucking Sana in the walls of your own bedroom this hard– “You’re something else, just like you were meant to have me like this, God.”

“Keep fucking me like this - god that feels so good, You and your cock it’s-” she huffs, barely smiling. She can see you slipping, at the edge, the litany of moans sounding like a siren out at sea. That mess she requested, you’ll give it to her, bury your cock in the deepest depths where it shouldn’t even be humanly possible, where the molten hot walls are bursting the thickness of your head, grinding out every cell and fiber - it’s possible. “Fuck, that’s so hot when you’re all fucked out for me.”

“Sana,” you say, and she has your hand over her tongue, licking up the thumb, and you’ll swear that it’ll do damage to you for centuries.

“Mhm,” she responds nicely, the last bit of the hum coming out as a hitched whimper, “Cum inside me.”

That’s how she’ll want to do things. If she wants something, she’ll get it. You do the same amount of damage to her like she did to you while she’s begging, whimpering, getting all of the lovely noises of being fucked out to oblivion out of her mouth until she’s leaking - washing you over, from the legs, to the pillows and sheets. Stretching her out perfectly, get her to slur out phrases that she would say normally on occasions not like this, only to come back around and have you fill in between the gaps.

You slip, she slips, it won’t matter, because you or her will make the catch, that extra push deep, maybe harder. The velvety drag already has you addicted to her, the sight of her body above this hips was just the plus.

“God, Sana. So fucking wonderful.” you snarl against the line of her cheek, one last final dip that has your cum flooding deep into her warm, velvety cunt.

The throbs of your cock has Sana mumuring softly, saying something like - yes, yes, keep fucking your cum into me, so that I can feel it - nice and hot, god yes.

You slide out halfway, and her hips buck from the tender motion while your hands rub her thighs. And you also black out for a second when a few more spurts coat her walls even more, the pullout quick for a fist around the head of your cock, covering her waist in the remaining bits of cum still left inside you - well fucked and sloppy.

Sana’s eyelids flutter shut, your hand rubbing along the oblique of your hips, that sense of desire finally fading away when you fully realize what had just transpired in the past hour or so. The lights are off in the house with the illuminating glow of the moon breaking through the window, tinnitus ringing in your eardrums and your eyes are fixated on Sana again, cross-eyed on the cum-soaked fingers she has, taking the liberty of sucking on them shamelessly, and the fucking noises she makes has your jaw to the floor.

“Thank you,” she says, sweetly, innocently, sitting up on the bed with her legs crossed, the trail of cum still apparent on her stomach. “You certainly did not disappoint.”

You, my friend, are entirely fucked.

“What’s gonna happen to us now?” you ask her, rubbing your face and shaking your head in disapproval while Sana cleans the rest of herself up with her fingers. “I think we made–”

“Did I not tell you to worry?” Sana’s quick to shut you down, her look cross while you don’t even bother to meet her in the eye. This is supposed to feel wrong, it shouldn’t feel like anything else besides that. She scoots herself over to you with a quick kiss to your cheek, one that you accept openly, but still feel pensive over.

“We can talk about it later,” she says, sliding herself into the rumpled sheets, patting down the open space next to her. “Would you mind if I stay the night? In your room? And in your bed?”

“I can’t really turn down that offer,” you laugh, following along with a hand trailing up the side of her figure, giving a meaningful press of lips to the spot of her hair, “I actually like the company now.”

“Would you also mind if I want it later when I can’t sleep?”

“I’m seriously gonna hate you for this when we’re done.”

“But I’m asking nicely.” she says, and hums this sweet tone when you lay next to her, feeling her ass shimmying against your cock underneath. “You’ll say yes,right?”

“Keep up with the needy act, and maybe I’ll have to fuck the want right out of you.”

Sana rolls herself on top of you, finger tracing the lines of your face again, sketching, the bottom of her lip tugged by a pair of teeth. There’s that sly smile again, mischievous. It’s the reality now, she’s won you over.

“Consider it a gift for you.” she adds, kissing you again before she goes slack on your chest, the wave of sleep finally setting in.

–

(This actually comes later when you can’t dream a wink, staring up at the high ceiling:

It only takes little effort for someone to make a house into a home - and you learn to the best extent possible, Sana slots in that missing piece where Dahyun is supposed to fill - without even fully realizing it.

Her and Dahyun are two sides of the same coin, both give you this sense of ease and confusion that has you looking off while they’re trying to hide the inevitable laughs. They’re both also moodmakers with the way they look at you with the earnest smile, a reminder of one and the other that you’re not too far behind to follow.

Every nick of the mouth moving, the glint in their eyes that will break you down from the shackles of rational thoughts while the springs in your bed are supporting the absolute fucking you’re doing over them.

Maybe this summer will be saved after all.)

–

When the crack of dawn breaks through the sunrise, you’re trying to recollect what little thoughts you have left of your deteriorating marriage; as in, what’s gonna happen to you when Dahyun finds out you’ve slept with her close friend who just happens to live in the house right next door, aside from other things. This space was now tainted in the heinous acts you’ve committed but the only thing that was filling the front of your mind was the amount of work emails you saw on your phone while waking up.

“You’re just gonna leave me here in the bed all alone?” Sana asks, your back still turned to her when you mindlessly flick up the switch to your bathroom.

A simple spin on the ball of your heel, and the image is just majestic to witness.

This 5’3 brunette that’s all sunshine and rainbows, replaced by a deity that oozes sexiness and uncapped lust, lays on the side of her frame with an elbow propped up to support her head, hair still having that post-fuck frizziness to it, the sheets are covering most of her middle, but that outreaching left leg exposed, folds in, and you catch that slope of her hip, her ass is also not that far behind to look over.

You already know her body all too well. If you could put someone that’s remotely close to the Greek god of Aphrodite, Sana would come very close to that.

“Are you really expecting yourself to stay here?” you ask, fishing for your toothbrush before washing it with one hand, the other grabbing the minty toothpaste that was adjacent to it in the cup. “You know that I have work, not to mention working at home too.”

You watch from the doorway when she sits up, the romp of her sheets falling over in front that shows that pale chest, her firm breasts that lay beneath her fine collarbones, there’s a new set of hickeys - the hickeys, showing your favorite spot to soothe her while she’s wailing in your arms, the rise and fall of her shoulders every breath let out has another wanting bite of her swollen lips.

“Is it too much to keep you company?” she asks again, tugging on the comforter, hoping that she’ll get the right answer out of you.

“It’s not that I mind about the company of you, it’s the fact that others would get suspicious.” you retort, placing down the brush filled toothpaste on the counter, “That’s the last thing that I want to happen.”

“How long has Dahyun been at trial with her firm?”

“At least a couple weeks at this point.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“You need to go home.”

“But your place is a lot nicer than mine, clean also.” she smiles, looking up little by little when you approach her on the edge of the bed. A hand is outreached with hers, and it’s damning how well it fits with yours, the automatic reflex of brushing your thumb over the highest peak of her middle knuckle. You don’t even flinch at the fact that she’s moved your hand over to her breast, tracing her nipple. It’s not hard to ease into these seductive advances, softly chuckling at the way Sana’s tit has a sort of weight to them - perky, but impossible to resist.

“What am I gonna do with you?” you ask yourself, a little loudly for Sana to hear too, “I have to get ready.”

“Breakfast on the table?”

“Have you freshen up before you do the walk of shame next door.” you whisper, helping her up, swooping under her legs in a bridal carry. The tangle of her hairs on your chest when she leans her head in, laughing, the smell of citrus and lingering sweat. “The comforter was too heavy and hot anyway.”

Sana just giggles, waving her feet in the air, into the bathroom where her skin glows a little bit lighter. “What’s the point of having that open room next to yours if it’s not used?”

–

(There’s a lot of questions that don’t get answered. Partly because Sana can’t concentrate while you’re kneeling between her legs in the shower, lapping away at her clit, washing away any slick that’s left out; her fingers are splayed out across the tile, slipping, dripping away from her hips.

You also shouldn’t be whispering these sweet nothings into her ear either, kissing her as if in another reality, maybe this too, could be a thing. It isn’t fair, it’s not right. She comes off as urgent, hoping to keep your mind off of the responsibilities sitting at your desk for just a little while longer. “Don’t do this to me.” That’s a plea, your mouth hovering over her neck, she has your dress shirt draped over her on the kitchen island with her knees apart again, filling in the space while she’s all porcelain teeth and warm tongue. She tugs on your lips like she wants every last bit of you, and it’s not worth fighting for. Her mouth gets on the cuff of your ear, and she whispers this spell, a curse rather, impending your fate even more:

“I think you know all of the things that I would do to you.”)

–

Fucking Sana has its own luxury.

This living art piece wandering about in your house where no one else knows. She comes to your place, you go to hers, it’s a trade off that’s very easy to do when you’re just a few steps away from each other’s doors.

We could also talk about benefits. The benefits. She asks for a couple favors - a helping hand to clean the house (yours or hers) as an example - you have some requests of your own, mostly to just have a quick bite of her cooking or pull some aged alcohol that was gifted to you a long while ago, half the bottle already gone before the end of one night. It usually ends up with you sinking inside of her, caressing her gentle body, kissing the nape of her neck when your hips mesh with hers perfectly.

It’s a new fun that’s profound in yourself. This super popular model that has every hot contact of companies you could name off the top of your head in her phone, taking a quick hiatus for some ‘me’ time. She’s got a solid income, her closet is full of brands that you take note of to give to Dahyun later down the line, and the sex man, it’s just fucking- well, terrific.

If having Sana all to yourself was the prime exclusivity in its own right, the girls she invites over make everything much more interesting, just aside from the fact that she comes unannounced most of the time. Oh, and that girl in her picture framed back at her place, Chou Tzuyu, she’s a real sweetheart. You’ll have her tag along with Sana no matter what time of the day it is (or night, because you’ll always be free outside of work when it counts).

Sana usually stays in your house more compared to hers, and she usually seeks you out first with a longing press of lips on yours. Tender, sweet, before you get into the best part of your regular business day, bending her over the nearest piece of furniture and dumping a nice hot load between her thighs while she goes on doing whatever you need her to do around the house to keep herself busy.

She doesn’t let you have your way that easily. There’s this business call you’re doing, talking about how the numbers don’t really add up for this list of statistic report you were handed an hour prior, trying to fight the gravity of your head leaning forward–

“Sana, your fucking mouth. So good, jesus.” you mutter, cradling her head while she taps your cock on her perfect lips, laving her tongue over before she dips down again, pushing you past the tightness of her throat.

–of the very person pushing your thighs apart underneath the desk when she primes at the very angle, bobbing her head slowly while maintaining that hypnotic friction of her hand over your shaft.

You hit the key binded to the mute button on the call, not giving a single ear of the person in the session rambling about well, if we could get an extra day or two with the new inputs for the program, then maybe we the numbers that are put together can line up with the graph - ‘and, let me get this straight–’

“Mmph, god.” You’re broken down to just a few simple actions, combing Sana’s hair, guiding her silkly mouth onto your cock, and she doesn’t let up the fucking pace. You’ve got your fingers intertwined with hers on your thigh, not giving a care of how she’s so persistent to get you off like this, choking, drawing back for some air - her pinky and ring finger moving in this motion on the tip that has you shuddering.

“Such a fucking hard worker,” she says, biting her lip, the glare in her eyes that’s nearly demonic while her tongue slips along the underside and upper part of your cock. “How could you talk so calmly while your dick is in my mouth?”

“I’ve had practice before,” you answer, slightly smirking at the memory of Dahyun doing the exact same to you long ago, it’s no different.

Keeping it together wasn’t the option anymore, while the rush of Sana’s mouth is drawn back to you, proceeding with the online meeting as planned, discussing the future plans delegated to your coworkers. Too bad that they can’t hear the litany of gurgles and gags happening below your desk, struggling to not use one hand and keep Sana buried under there, watching with that lustful look in your eyes when she knows you’re about to pop, the shake of your leg as the sole hint to what she needs before putting both hands into the mix, all wet while every ounce of focus gets diluted to the ceiling.

The meeting eventually ends while groaning at Sana’s throat bottoming you out, spilling inside that heat with a weak buck of your hips, shoving everything into her where your balls meet her chin. It just happens, more and more; her mouth is so fucked for you that some of the cum gets on her teeth when you slide out of her. The worst part: you’re still fucking leaking, getting it on her bottom lip, another rope above her eyebrow; the splatter doesn’t even end when she lightly presses a thumb down at the base and you get another drop to her cheek - it still isn’t fair when she wraps her fingers around, lightly stoking while your entire lower half of your body is still twitching once the work is all done.

Sana can be evil, but she goes back to being a bundle of joy when she plants a kiss to the tip, pushing your chair back and kisses you back on the lips, wiping some remnants of your cum from your lips onto her fingertip while she sucks them cleanly. “Productive call?”

“Got a few more clients to talk to, but thanks. I needed that.” you sigh, fingers on her chin to assess the proof, nodding Sana off to go ahead and wash up before cooking lunch.

“You still want the usual meal?”

–

Sana goes away for a few days, and the place gets hollow again.

You have the phone in your ear with your manager to talk about potential vacation time (talk about great timing too), and with a press of a button on the TV, you see the headline on the channel broadcast:

Dahyun and her firm won the trial. Which means that she’s finally coming home.

–

Dahyun’s homecoming is a bit short lived when you wait for her right on the street, her personal chauffeur rolling away while she’s walking to you with a duffel bag, a carry-on luggage, and her briefcase that she sets down before jumping into your arms. She smells soapy, a nice tinge of lavender when you bury your nose into the midpoint of her collar and neck. You tell her that you’re proud, give her the necessary congrats before dishing out the reassurance that you didn’t burn the goddamn place down while she was out saving her own job.

“You didn’t miss much,” you say, watching Dahyun take a longing bite of the salmon dish you cooked for her, the hum of approval with that smile you’ve missed so much for god knows how many weeks has it been. “Besides the fact that you were saving your career, I kept myself busy with the projects at mine.”

“Really,” she starts, “I would think that you’d drive yourself insane up until I finally managed to get back. That racing sim setup would literally drive your attention away from me, so I thought that was one of the things to keep you busy.”

“I didn’t even have the whole thing unboxed yet,” you manage, swiping her glass of water for you to drink out of while she drives the knife into the food for another slice. “If anything, I was just cooped up in my office while keeping the house nice and tidy.”

“Good to know. Have you been doing stuff with the others while I was gone?”

“Who do you mean?”

“I mean. Jihyo, Mina, maybe even Sana.” Dahyun says, and your gaze shifts from stoic to this more pensive one; like the last name makes you remember things that you’re not supposed to. “You did help with Sana right?”

“I did. I was hoping that she left a handful of messages for you to read when you got off the plane.”

The doorbell rings, and your wife is quick to answer it with that fast-paced walk of hers. By the time she opens the door, the home is filled with a familiar sound that was echoing through the hallways not that long ago, a week, three weeks even.

Sana greets Dahyun with a loving embrace much like yours earlier this morning. Their conversation was pretty much filled with the usual ‘when did you get back?”, ‘you have to fill me in on everything that happened at your work!’, and ‘did you give him a hard time with the stuff you asked him to do?’ All of these questions have your head at an angle when you see the pair of them cling onto each other, like lost friends who haven’t seen each other but miraculously reunite at an airport after who knows what time frame you’d put them in.

(Sana gives you this gaze, one that will have you kicking your heels while she combs down Dahyun’s hair, that sly smile of a girl who knows what they did, what she does to you.)

You do nothing, just give her the simple wave and smile like nothing ever happened, while your mind plays a whole different tune and movie in the back of your head.

–

(A small tidbit about montages: these moments in time from here on out to help shape up how stories play going forward. It’s not pretty, playing Sana’s game of chess while the ‘oh, my wife doesn’t know I cheated on her with her best friend who just happens to be our next door neighbor’ runs in your head.

The blips don’t also fucking help either:

Instance #1: Another house party hosted by you and Dahyun where you bump into Sana in the kitchen, who returns with a playful tap to your crotch and a smack to your ass that has you buckling forward while you hear her laugh fade into the crowd.

Instance #2: Sana comes over for a movie night with Dahyun. While she went to use the bathroom, she uses this as an advantage to straddle over your lap, sucking your face up with her lips like a vacuum in the dark before she hurries back to her original spot on the couch, fixing up her hair and wiping her lips, playfully pointing at the hickey underneath your jaw that has you rolling her eyes by the time Dahyun settles back in the seat.

And finally, instance #3: The infamous office room incident. Where you had a dinner party with the neighbors again to celebrate your promotional achievement of heading this massive project that would benefit into making electric cars more affordable for the common money maker. Everyone is having fun with the drinks and partying aspect of it while Sana is on her knees, again, in the dark, deepthroating your cock with the door open for anyone to notice. All urges are off the table when you and her stow yourselves away into the guest room (with the meticulously placed soundproof foam pads all over the walls) when you have Sana’s light body bouncing over your cock, hammering down her hot cunt for a few minutes while she bites her own finger when you switch up the tempo to be more slow, loving, a deliberate way where she can really feel every throb inside her. She has a hand to the small of your back, you’re covering her moans with your palm, making her cum over and over until she’s walking to her house with a stutter in her step.

More incidents did occur, but there’s got to be a sense of craziness if we’re thinking of going through all of them.)

–

“I’d say that things are pretty normal now,” you say, arm around Dahyun’s back with fingertips just grazing the top of her ass, legs over your lap while taking shade on the couch in the backyard patio, hanging out with a quartet of drinks on the table, two for you, and the other two for Sana and Tzuyu.

They’re here on another hot Thursday, not wanting to risk a brownout with the a/c running for more than the viable six to eight hours that you’d normally have while working, taking a dip in the pool for a bit. Two pretty girls in clad bikinis: Sana in a revealing two piece that barely covers her nipples and pussy, Tzuyu in a striking singular bathing suit that shows those luscious thighs almost having you drool when she gets out of the water.

“This was so much better than just walking around in our underwear around the house.” Tzuyu says, laughing, grabbing her bottle of this brand you pulled from the fridge when she takes a nice swig. You remember the faint memory of waking up one morning with Tzuyu and Sana, both of them taking turns fucking you in different parts around the house. Tzuyu on the couch in the living room and Sana again on your office chair, hopping along your cock while you’re typing in a report on the desktop.

Sana’s laugh fills the atmosphere when she talks about pushing Dahyun into the pool, her look unamused when you stare at her in bewilderment while she sees Dahyun slap your shoulder, motioning you to take on the defensive. “You really have nothing else better to do than to spend your time with us.”

“You and Dahyun are good company.” Sana says, dismissively, hand on Tzuyu’s thigh to also include her in the conversation.

Dahyun shifts her legs off of your lap, pulling them in towards her while you sit up, leaning forward for the empty bottles before you’re stopped by Sana and Tzuyu, who both offered to get another round of drinks back inside while you relax. The pair of them both walk away, arm in arm, two beautiful girls with both bearing breathtaking asses, all within line of your eyesight.

“You don’t think I know,” Dahyun says, snapping your gaze immediately back to her.

“Know what?” you say, crossing your arm over while she leans in closer to you, making a face that looks very serious, but not threatening. A lick of your inner lip sends you uneasy while Dahyun’s eyes stare deeply into your soul. That deepening pit of anxiety inside your stomach has you second guessing on whether or not being honest and transparent with your wife should be the best route to go knowing what you did. What you’ve done.

“Nothing,” she answers after, “Wanted to test something out of you.” Dahyun then leans her head into your collarbone while you stare out into the blue horizon hearing the sounds of Sana and Tzuyu come back with another bundle of bottles waiting to be downed.

–

This happens entirely on a whim, and when you’re not even a part of the picture.

Sana answers the door to her house, eyes shooting up when Dahyun’s at the top step, smiling with a bag from the bakery and a full bottle of sparkling cider.

It’s the usual game of the catch-up conversation, Dahyun talks about her draining work from the trial, plus her extended vacation time handed by her boss. Sana talks about the upcoming collabs that she’s been appointed to, a plane waiting with an open door for her on the taxiway by the end of the month.

Exchanging laughs, quick memories of their past hangouts. The high-school reunion type vibe has this sense of nostalgic feeling between the two of them, but Dahyun drops the act completely out of nowhere to talk about more pressing matters.

“How long?” she asks Sana, placing her glass neatly on the counter across from her.

“What are you talking about?” Sana says, swallowing down a lump of bread down her throat, worrying. “Did I do something wrong?”

“I know you’ve been getting cozy with him,” Dahyun says flatly, “I just want you to tell me if that’s true or not.”

“About?”

“Getting his dick all up inside of you like you wanted.”

“I thought you were okay with it?”

“I never said anything remotely close to that.” Dahyun sighs, grabbing the half-full bottle of cider before downing it straight from the opening, placing it down right after while Sana taps her finger on the counter. “Besides, he’s probably worried that our marriage is ruined.”

“Doesn’t seem that way.”

“Sana, what are you implying?”

“What I’m implying,” Sana prompts sweetly, stepping towards Dahyun around the counter, snaking a hand down her waist where it’s open in the crop-top, kissing her by surprise. Dahyun’s mouth opens wider, fingers curling around the nape of Sana’s neck, like an old memory locked away coming to light again. “Is that we show your lovely man that shouldn’t be the case between us.”

She dips her face into Dahyun’s again, the kiss more intoxicating than the first initial contact. It’s how Dahyun melts down from Sana, the way her spine curves backwards, Sana’s hands there at the perfect time to support her, both of them are panting into it, how open they were about their feelings for each other before you waltzed in to have Dahyun all to yourself.

“I hate how I like you and him both.” Dahyun gasps when Sana plants her lips across her neck, her hands grasping her waist and ass that gets this hum of approval from Sana on her skin. “Maybe we could find a probable compromise to solve this little problem?”

“Is it the same compromise I’m thinking of seeing his pretty eyes when we cum all over his cock?” Sana asks with a wink while Dahyun just giggles into her chest.

“I love it when you and I are on the same page.”

–

A sigh leaves your lips when you hear how the metal grinds inside the lock of your doorknob, pushing the front door open to see the surprise of an article of clothing, sitting at your feet, tilting your head to the side when you pick it up to see that it was a cropped shirt. The soft sound of the humidifier fills the eerie silence when your eyes notice another piece of clothing a few inches away from the shirt, connecting the dots in your mind realizing the trail of clothes up the stairs.

Once up the steps, the pieces start to get larger: first a shirt, then some stockings, the door leading into your bedroom was ajar, the knob hanging with two pairs of panties. The hinges on your door squeak but so quietly, and your ears are greeted with a familiar laugh, not just one, but two.

Without producing any more noise to make your presence known, your eye captures the sight of Sana on your bed, dipping her head lower to a girl laying underneath, caressing her face while the other girl giggles, returning the kiss openly. It’s pretty peculiar, when you also realize that both of them are naked on your mattress, it’s also really fucking peculiar when you connect the dots that the girl laying underneath Sana is Dahyun of all people.

“I suppose that Sana’s little secret was finally let out by her.” you finally say, leaning on the door frame with the smooth wood wide open. And when the both look up at you, Sana looking up and forward, Dahyun looking from under while laying still, fuck, it’s sending signals to your brain at the image of them on top of each other like this, a mesh of skin on skin, their pretty faces stacked on their chins - you could sketch it on an easel, because that’s a literal art piece in real time.

Your mind doesn’t even register the few seconds after, when both Dahyun and Sana make way towards you, the movement of their bodies in perfect sync, hypnotized at the way you watch how they stand on their tiptoes - ghosting their hands all over your chest and hips while your hands tend to their asses, palm at the defined fit of them, softly laughing.

“We had,” Sana and Dahyun both say each word in different pauses, something straight out of a horror movie at the way they ad lib each other’s utterances. “An idea,” Sana adds. “That you’d hope you’ll like.” Dahyun finishes. “Would you like to see what we were discussing?”

(God picked your battles, and maybe you could let him off the hook just this once.)

“Impress me,” you simply say, while Sana pulls your head into hers when she kisses you in front of Dahyun.

–

So Sana and Dahyun return to the positions where you first found them.

The only difference being, Dahyun hanging her head off the bed upside down, dragging her tongue across the seam of your balls while Sana’s tongue slips inside your mouth, her slender fingers giving these languid strokes to your cock while the pair of them just hum in content, getting you ready when all of the gears are primed to click.

The contrast between the two of them, Sana being gentle with her lips while Dahyun is the complete opposite with hers, aggressive with the way her tongue swipes across the underside of your cock, her hands wrapped around your thighs to get more of those lavish licks at the base that has you counting stars behind your eyelids early.

“How are you rock fucking hard?” Sana husks, brushing her lips against yours while Dahyun leaves a path of pecks to your inner thigh before she rolls her body over, looking up with her doe eyes while Sana lets herself fall right next to her, flipping her hair back while the sheets crinkle at the elbows, reflecting the same look before flashing her eyes back at Dahyun. “Makes me wonder who you’re gonna finish inside of at the end of this.”

“Didn’t know that this was a competition,” you say, mind zoning out when Sana draws her tongue up your underside now in a quick lick, Dahyun smiling on the opposite end doing the same exact thing, that will most definitely bite back your words.

It’s only right that Dahyun gets to be the first to push your head into her mouth, inhaling a bit while her tongue smoothes out across the area, delicately brushing along the length that sends the synapses in your spine on an electrical current. Sana just looks in awe at how much your wife is taking you, twisting a hand in play while she plants a wet kiss to her temple.

You could get lost in the finesse of how Dahyun’s small hands skate up your length, the cushion of her mouth already enough to have your tongue between your teeth, but Sana didn’t come her to just watch, tapping lightly on her shoulder and sliding you out of one heat into the next, and the expectation you had for Sana blowing you always gets thrown out the window.

“Fucking whore she is,” Dahyun rasps when Sana lowers her lips more down your cock, rolling along with the lightest graze of her teeth along the top, a twitch of your legs with a billowing puff of your cheeks to let them know that what they’re doing is working. How many times has he let you blow him under the desk? You hear Dahyun ask Sana, pulling some stray strands of hair from her side when she clasps her lips at the base, keeping you there in the sweltering heat.

“Oh Dahyun,” Sana reprimands, “You have no idea how much I’ve made him cum while you were away.”

A hand is thrown into the mix, behind both of their heads when they meet the glints in their eyes, uniformly taking your cockhead from the side, slowly sliding down at the suction, how they both fluidly slide you in their mouths in alternating fashion. Sana popping with her mouth, Dahyun swiping along the slit the next second.

“Christ girls,” and you could hear the giggles of satisfaction to your amazement when they both have a hand along the length, stroking slowly to the point you can’t even look them in the eye. “You had this planned for a while now, haven’t you?”

“I was against Sana’s crazy idea,” Dahyun purrs, face flushed when you notice that Sana’s hand is at her rear, fingers dipping into her cunt that’s already slicked up, waiting to be stretched, “but then she convinced me otherwise after some- propper persuasion.”

“Tell me,” Sana chimes in, that innocent pout with her pursed lips doing absolutely no justice to how she looks right now, “Who do you think is the bigger slut between the two of us, me? Or Dahyunie?”

Dahyun guwaffs when she leans into your palm, slapping your cock along her lips while you thumb the soft skin on her temple, swiping the underside of your head makes you grit your teeth at the amount of teasing they’re both doing. “Maybe he should fuck our faces to see,” she suggests, “Who could choke the hardest over this fucking cock.”

(With a pair of wide open eyes, you could only mouth the word, “fuck.”)

“You’d like that anyway, won’t you daddy?”

The obedience settles in when both of these girls let their hands rest on the edge of the bed, finger and thumb wrapped around your cock when you tell both of them to hang their mouths open, rubbing your tip around the rim of Sana’s lips when she opens wider, wider until her jaw fully slacks at the whole length, and you love how she’s a pro at this.

You take your deserved pleasure of how each of these girls' mouths feel around you. Sana’s lips being so unbearably perfect with those pretty lips of hers, sliding out and have Dahyun practically inhale your cock next, her eyes blinking up over the tight seal she has over you. “Jesus, baby–”

Sana helps play the guide fucking your cock more into Dahyun’s mouth, the subtle flick she has sliding around with every move and thrust flushing into her throat. Her small lips were already ahead of the curve mirroring Sana’s movements a few minutes ago, the pressure sending waves from your hips up, lightly clutching her hair to keep the ache building.

“Taking your baby so well, huh?” Sana growls over the sound of Dahyun desperately slipping her head down your length. “You like how she’s deepthroating you after not having your cock for a whole month?”

“Feels so fucking good,” you answer, spreading your legs apart to keep Dahyun’s mouth on your cock warm, moaning so loud when Sana’s other hand works your balls, fingernails scratching along the ridges of skin while she fingers her, the moans sending vibrations along your shaft nearly breaking you. “Keep- gonna cum on this pretty fucking face.”

Borderline filthy, almost off the fucking rails. Sana doesn’t like to play fair when she pulls Dahyun off of your cock, the drag of her tongue stripped off with a line spit connecting to her lips that’s soon catered to Sana’s mouth kissing Dahyun again, and the sight in itself is a blessing that you’ll never take for granted, how their faces tilt every second they meet, the smile breaking at the corner where you could notice them, delicately letting their fingers explore their faces, hooking into their hair and necks, the rise and fall of their shoulder every breath taken.

Sana’s head spins out of control when she’s pushed onto the pillows of the bed, propping on her elbows while Dahyun spreads her knees apart more, kissing up the line of her inner thigh. “Dahyun,” she rasps, head reeling back when she’s getting close to the center, “I’ve been dreaming of this to happen for so long: you eating me out while your husband is oh- looks like he’s already ahead of the–”

You don’t pay attention to their short exchange of words, relishing in the taste of Dahyun’s pussy, licking past the slit when you grip her asscheeks a little more tighter, a slip of the tongue over her clit, lapping up in the ways that you know your wife likes.

Like the trail of clothes to the bedroom, your vibrations transfer up to Dahyun’s mouth and into Sana’s cunt; it’s a connecting line of fucking when you slide your tongue deeper, where the heat is the most hot, hooking your arms over Dahyun’s thigh’s while Sana grips her head, whimpering the moans where she’s left struggling for air.

“Look at us, Dahyun, shit, he’s eating away at you, you’re eating away at me, this is so fucking good.”

Sana’s the first to sputter, the amount of hums in approval, cracking under the faults. You and Dahyun are on the same page when you’re slipping two fingers in - then three; Dahyun catches on while getting fucked over, adding her four fingers into Sana’s stretching pussy. She’s gonna lose it.

That whine she makes, when she’s over the edge, it’s the missing symphony in your ears.

“Yes, I’m cum– gonna fucking cum,” she cries out, Dahyun leans all the way in, back arched in a way that would rival a gymnast. The way your fingers are clutching at her snowy skin, enough to easily scratch and draw bruises, she’s quivering when you’ve also made her reach the peak like Sana: these meaningless sounds, air getting more static through their tracheas.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” Dahyun whines out matching Sana’s volume, hips tensing while your mouth is pressing against the pucker of her ass, tongue and finger tag teaming while she fucks Sana through her sensitive pussy, past the first hurdle of cumming and skating a pair of fingertips over her clit, making Sana lock her knees while the circles on her nub continue, speaking complete nonsense and in mewls.

“I’ll fuck you now, just like you wanted.” you spit, pulling yourself closer to Dahyun by the hips, her whole body relaxing when you have the head of your cock, skimming the folds of her pussy while Sana cradles her head on her boobs, leaving languid kisses while Sana puts her legs up underneath.

“Need it–” Dahyun pants, only to be shut up by Sana kissing her again to keep her dazed.

“What do you need, honey?” you ask, leaning forward to kiss the line of her back, hand massaging her waist before you retract your hand up the dunes of her hip, onto the divot of her hip while impulsively smacking your wife’s ass that makes her yelp at how hard you hit it.

“Your cock- need your cock inside me-” She can barely answer while she’s drunk at the teasing of your cock along her pussy while Sana’s lips work her neck. “Need you to fuck me.”

“Well, he’s gonna have his work cut out for you isn’t he?” Sana asks, massaging Dahyun’s waist while the top of your thigh meets Sana’s ass, licking your finger to make her squeal when you rub it on her clit, and you get several. “Fucking our brains till we’re drained.” she tells you, watching as you stroke the length of your cock. How long could you hold out? How much can you handle? You’ll be good for us, let you easy- until you’re cumming a whole fucking mess.

Sana means business, Dahyun is already putty just waiting to be put back into a tube and spilled over on the bed. “You two will be good girls for me, and I’ll fuck you guys right.”

You mean what you say, it’s in existence. And when you push your head into Dahyun’s perfect pussy, the opening rips out a tone within her that you’ll always remember - sucking in an air at the clamp, taking you all the way. Sana smiles at the wince Dahyun makes, holding her face when you pull back, slowly thrusting halfway, the tightness leaving you speechless.

That very moment where you’re sinking - where you don’t even have to say anything. (Because Dahyun was just made to take your cock that doesn’t feel undeserving at all.) Her ass is spread out, cunt gripping the whole fucking length while she buries her head into Sana’s neck. You could also hear a hush come from Sana’s lips while you’re still fixated on your cock disappearing inside of Dahyun.

“Just-” Dahyun sputters, the octave in her voice going up pitch by pitch, fucking her soaking hole while you’re pushing everything to the possible ability you can, where you can feel the clench around your head, sobbing, hands over the dough of her ass, getting her cock drunk until you senselessly empty yourself inside her.

“Harder,” Sana chides, tongue on the neck while she’s the supporting beam of the shaking girl laying on top of her. “I want her to be broken in two.”

So you keep pounding, this familiar angle with your hips to where Dahyun has died before, shrieking while she feels like she’s floating in her head. When you see her head move over to the side, her profile in view, you’re blown away by the fade of her blush, Sana’s hand underneath to her chin, her back arched to the highest point she could possibly have it in, pistoning yourself in like it wasn’t the daily routine as it is, not ever realizing that it would never stop being like this.

When her moans reach the apex, you could see Dahyun mouthing something, a wobbling lip hindering for her to even say the words properly - Baby, I’m gonna fucking– cum so hard on your-

One final push in, and her entire lower half shakes, a dam finally cracking under the pressure.

Sana’s just there to admire the artwork of her face, while reassuring that everything will be taken care of once all of this is done, a kiss to the lips while your cock continues to slowly plunge deep, cumming on your hips, the warmth too comfy to even leave. This would be great, one more sense of presence in the bed that will be a mainstay from now on.

“Look at you doing so well for him,” Sana says, and she’s still laughing, drunk on the sounds of Dahyun while her half-lidded eyes are telling a different tale. “You’ve missed his big fucking cock, fitting so perfectly inside you, hmm? Look at how much you creamed all over him, ugh, filthy.”

Dahyun just shudders while you’re massaging her inner thigh, pulling the head of your cock out of her fucked pussy, slapping the head agasint the sensitive clit, and you chuckle lightly at the small twitches she makes every hit that she feels; once, twice, thrice, and even the fourth.

“Was that enough to satisfy you?” you ask, learning over to get your face in between the two pretty girls, getting a whiff of your wife’s hair while Sana’s quick to plant her lips on the cuff of your ear, bold, trying to hide how badly she wants the next go at you railing her. “Could you take more tries before your cunt gets my load all up inside of you?”

“She’s not gonna answer that for you right away.” Sana sliding herself down, her fingers fluttering around your shaft. She does these circular motions alongside the skin that had your head sideways the other day back on the couch, realizing how sterile you were at being delicately handled, she’ll play that to her advantage, and she always finds something new.

“Now that you had your fill with her,” she continues on with this while showering Dahyun with peppered kisses across her breasts. “Don’t you think I should have a go? Make you throb to the point where I get to feel the teeny bits of precum before you burst?”

“Sana, that’s not nice.” you tell her, lightly tapping Dahyun’s waist, leaning over to the nook of her neck to whisper something. Have her something to do while keeping Sana’s mouth occupied, because I hate how she doesn’t shut up about things like these. And Dahyun follows along, still coming down on her high, shimmying her way up on her knees and when she finally hovers over Sana’s face, you see the quick peek of her tongue tip in preparation while your fingers are working fast around Sana’s thighs, pulling her towards you and priming Dahyun for the perfect angle.

“Should we shut this little slut up, honey?’ Dahyun asks, biting her lip at you while you slapping your cock along Sana’s folds, to an amount enough for her to hide the growl coming out of her mouth. “I think she’s a little too antsy for the both of us.”

“Ladies first,” you smirk, providing the common courtesy, dipping your cockhead in before backing out, catching the small ‘fuck’ being let out by Sana. Dahyun takes the quick moment of weakness as an opportunity to finally sit on her face, her hand also quick to rub her clit while the woman’s open mouth on her pussy starts to tear away at the threads, and you know Sana well enough to describe the feelings.

It’s listed as this: tight, so fucking tight to the point that it should be considered to a world class delicacy that’s not meant to be enjoyed leisurely.

That sharp draw of air through the thin lines of your teeth, finding that leverage into her cunt, easing into her, trying not to get ahead of yourself when she’s finally flush with your hips. You could hear the hum of satisfaction through Dahyun, her hand gripping Sana’s hairs between her legs, lightly grinding her cunt over her wet, hot mouth.

“Right there, yeah, there we go.” How your cock stretches alongside the walls, spreading her apart. It’s always a real show to keep both eyes open on, no quarter of the inch left behind. Sana would be this tornado that swoops in places, taking people off their feet. In trade for that, she offers a grace with her person - a vibe that comes off as rich, tied to materialism, to be used as a personal fucktoy when the time is right, and that instance of ‘time’ happens to be legitimately, every time.

You could take days to figure out how you managed to get in this position. It’ll only take you hours, minutes; hell, maybe even less than a few milliseconds to wrap your head around the fact of how full you make Sana with your cock, providing the same structure of strokes, slowly building up pace like with Dahyun a few minutes ago.

“How’s he feeling, Sana? Does he fill you up well like he said that he would?” Dahyun finally says, hair curtaining the right side of her face while Sana’s eyes can only look up while her mouth works her pussy again. The gluttal sounds of moans and chokes and smacks of Sana’s lips on Dahyun’s other lips, the only thing that she can do while you’re splitting Sana apart, her also doing some small movements so that she could fuck herself back onto your cock.

Dahyun pulls her hips up for Sana to speak, “Oh baby, it’s fucking me so deep. Want him - want daddy to fuck this pretty pussy–all for him.”

“Is that something you can do…fuck her cunt the same way you fucked my cunt?”

This takes a pause, flashing a gaze to Dahyun while you could feel the muscles flex in Sana’s legs and hips, driving yourself into her continuously, keeping a rhythm in check. The demand that’s being proposed doesn’t even register in your mind and Dahyun does this swift motion of doing a complete one-eighty of her hips, pressing her ass down onto Sana’s forehead, leaning over with a hand onto her waist while the other pulls your face in with her small fingers. You’ll have to pay attention, because her lips are quick to keep you from snapping out of Sana’s perfect pussy.

“What are you asking me to–”

“I want you–” one kiss to get you drunk from Dahyun, “to fuck her properly–” another kiss to keep focus, “until she cums–” nothing wrong with having a third kiss, “all over this perfect cock.”

Your hand is quick to reach across for Dahyun’s breast, kneading it in a way that she knows that she’s still yours, her eyes flickering down to the sight of your cock sinking back into Sana’s blown cunt, floating a pair of fingers on the clit, watching as you tear her apart, not wanting to shy or look away herself.

Sana’s quick to pull her face off of Dahyun’s ass, gasping for air before sweeping the flat of her tongue across her pussy once again, “So fucking perfect for me, daddy, please, don’t stop,” is what she says to you while you can see her legs go limp slightly from the sides.

The creaks of your lofted bed frame are singing at the shift of movement between the bedsheets and pillows, pulling yourself (with Sana inside still) up to the edge, planting both of your knees when you bottom yourself a little bit more deeper. You notice the image of Sana’s face fucked out, how she’s blushing, twisting her head to the right with her eyes closed, Dahyun manages to stave off to the side, taking a momentary break while you carry on with teasing Sana’s swollen clit, getting a few whines, moving her head against the sheets in a brief tantrum.

“Had enough yet?” you had the frame of asking, smiling alongside the line of Sana’s neck while the temporary angle of your cock just nudges that one spot you’ve managed to hit a couple times, the symphony of Sana’s little ‘oh’s’ when a small move of the hips just has Sana’s cunt clenching the head of your cock to send you gasping as well.

“Stop - stop with the questions,” she huffs, body stiffening before the wave of relaxation when you’re leaving more pretty bruises along the drawn canvas of her middle, licking up the deserved sweat of your hard work that’s also staining the sheets, along with the soaking that’s between your legs and hers.

You get a command, Sana looks up in a panic when Dahyun tells you to start fucking her harder, lifting the small of her back to get her horizontal with the mattress.

The levels just only seem to go up higher than then; Sana’s eyes being pulled down and rolled back. She knows you’re hitting the right spot, because of how she’s lightly pulling her legs up, you doing most of the support when she’s drawing these hitches of air, shuddering all over your waist while you push her beyond that edge. Her head is doing this bobbing motion when you slide with that upstroke, and you could feel the drag of her nails digging into your forearms that would seem accidental in another circumstance.

Dahyun plays spectator, catching her breath, hand toying between her thighs while you’re fucking the girl beneath you into a spilled puddle all over your lap.

“Are you seriously getting off without my help?” you ask, effortlessly gliding into the folds of Sana’s cunt. “Touching yourself while your best friend is taking my cock, sweetie? God, look at her, she’s wrecked.”

Sana pulls you in with little strength she has left, able to get her arms around your neck and shoulders, tightening that pull even more against you.

“Want you to cum,” she pleads, “I want you to cum inside and just, fuck, you don’t–” It’s miserable, hopeless, the power you have to just do exactly that with the way both Dahyun and Sana are both moaning and panting and just straight up rubbing both of their swollen clits while the length of your cock is still drowning in one of them.

It’s how you do these broad strokes, slowly, strategically, a technique that you’ve perfected over the amounts of times you’ve got yourself completely fucked over, balls tapping above the pucker of Sana’s ass when pulling yourself in from the top of her thighs, a holding point while doing the best punishment of teasing you could ever do for someone like her.

(Calling Dahyun over: shut this bitch up for me, please?)

It’ll do you numbers in which: you’re still fucking Sana insanely hard still, with Dahyun’s head hovering above the present action.

Sana’s clutching on to Dahyun’s leg, pressing her eyes into the skin, not wanting to let this fantastic feeling ever end, muttering all of the lovely things that she’s told you before multiple times. You could see the tug on her lips, tilting your head at how familiar the look was because you’ve seen it the first few times at how she couldn’t believe that you’d feel this good inside her, to get her stomach transformed into ashes and have her seeing stars. Sana’s body is “Pandora’s box’ full of lust, just waiting to be opened until you’ll give her opulence of what she needs from you, to fill her up.

“Fuck her through and through,” Dahyun orders with this hint of anger, “need to see her cum–”

“Give me your mouth, princess,” retreating from Sana’s exhausted cunt and getting Dahyun’s mouth all over you, cleaning up the mess of Sana’s slick right off of your length, stomach dipping when her throat swallows almost the entire half.

Your ears are zeroing in on the gags your wife is making on your cock, doing a double feature while her fingers are rubbing Sana’s clit to keep that ache, grasping a high ponytail with one hand, sucking away that will have you dreaming that the tension is almost tempting of spilling inside her throat right at that second. Dialing back with what little warning you have left, slipping back into the other hot warmth below her chin.

Despite the numbness clouding your brain, the obscene sounds of hums and whines tie in perfect tandem while you’re gliding back into Sana’s cunt, alternating between the tender rings of muscles, stretching around your cock in a one-two step: Dahyun’s mouth sliding and slobbering down your length, teasing Sana with your cockhead in her cunt massaging the walls around that squeezing vice.

You’re not at fault for when it happens: face red hot from within, the sound that rips through your vocal cords while your knees buck at the sensation of Sana’s ass bouncing back off the edge of the bed, and the small gyration of her hips when you’ve driven all the way to the hilt, she can sense it too.

Again, you’re not at fault for the way your cock pulsates that first second inside Sana’s sopping fuckhole, the first shots at the deepest pit where you could take it, twitching while you’re trying to save yourself from losing all of it from the first hold. Any second longer inside that lovely heat will have you rethinking your life choices up until this point.

You pull out, fist tight around your cock when you could see the lower point of your tip, giving an act of generosity firing another shot of cum inside Sana, cock out in the air where Dahyun sees the opportunity to lean in, drinking in the remaining spill that–

Scratch that, it’s not remaining, because you’re cumming everywhere.

There’s drops of white spilling from the front of her lower lips, pumping out the leaks on the flat of Sana’s stomach. Shit, you even managed to get a few globs on Dahyun’s cheek, even up to Sana’s right tit. It’s all fucked, you almost topple over on top the both of them, the arm serving as a last gasp foothold while the color drains from your face.

Dahyun pushes you up with both of her hands, staring at you with the splotches of your release slowly sliding down alongside her cheek. She’s taken aback with the load, but what she does with it–

(Well, don’t be surprised. She’s the love of your life for god’s sake.)

Two fingers skate off some of the cum off her profile, rubbing it on her lips. You draw yourself away while Dahyun helps Sana sit up on the bed, her hand quick to dip under her cunt where she picks up more of your cum that you’ve spilt inside. Sana catches on quick to lick off the cum off of Dahyun’s cheek, tongue sliding across the plane to swallow, the small ‘mms’ and audible smacks of lips colliding. Dahyun just laughs when she examines her palm, placing it underneath her mouth and Sana’s both of them licking the dribble up like two birds in a bath, washed over with sweat and slick and filthy and–

“So fucking gross,” Dahyun says, finger to the arch of Sana’s brow, wiping a wisp of hair off. “Like, are you gonna be so full of yourself–”

“Hey,” Sana tuts, “Don’t get all mad now that I’ve managed to push his buttons better than you.” She then slumps herself over Dahyun’s lap, hand massaging her waist while Dahyun leans back on her palms, crossing one leg up the edge to support her head. They both get secluded in their own little world, whispering these different sayings to each other with a soft smile at one, a scrunched nose to the other.

You manage to slot yourself to the side, next to Dahyun, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, “I thought this wasn’t a competition over me.”

The pair simply roll their eyes, Dahyun runs her fingers through Sana’s hair, unconsciously, affectionately. They’re still coming down from all the fucked out clarities while they simply - just - look. Being proven wrong wasn’t that much of a loss in itself; in fact, it was actually inviting when you’re giving them the same confused expression that has the brain questioning everything from the plain existence to whether or not this new reality was even sustainable amongst the three of you.

“We could all agree to an accord together,” Sana says enthusiastically, “like distinguished human beings- or, something like that.”

(I mean, there’s a blueprint to draw up for that extra room anyway, but you’ll get to that later.)

–

It’s during one Saturday morning, when the plates and bowls of today’s breakfast are already in the sink, you have a single carry-on duffel bag in your hand, placed on the highest step of the stairs, taking in that crisp air through your nose. Everything comes to a gentle slope, the clouds are high up in the sky, meshed up together, shielding the landscape from the beaming sun, and the time hasn’t even hit noon yet.

“I just don’t get it.” you beam, elbows on the railing while your eyes get caught up in a pair of blue jay’s gliding past the street, fascinated by the companionship of nature. Only to have your attention drawn to the awaiting car on the driveway, Dahyun’s personal chauffeur (and to this day you’re still wondering if that person even gets paid or not). “All of this trouble of having a vacation, get reeled back into working, have more time off than expected, but still decide to take up another work order again?”

Dahyun steps out the doorway, slapping your arm, leaving your face with a small wince that you play off with dead eyes. “I could call Nayeon to put in a word for Momo. If you’re making such a big deal out of it, I might as well tell them myself that I wanted more time off than need be.”

“You said that it was work related.” you tell her as the counterargument.

“But it’s not!” Sana bursts out, all smiles while you’re walking down the pathway with another bag in your hand onto the asphalt. “Such a buzzkill, as if you didn’t want the whole place to yourself to burn down. You spend wayyyy too much time up in your little office, so consider this to be punishment.”

“Where did this come from?” you ask, flustered, with arms up trying to play the innocence card.

Dahyun pulls Sana’s singular luggage from her hand and into the trunk of the car, the bag you were carrying also next to be put before a shut off of the compartment. “We’ve been planning this for sometime, and now we’ve decided to do it. Together.” She pulls up her own passport with an airline ticket shoved in between the pages. You could probably guess where they’re going, judging from the assortment of clothes that they’ve packed, it must be somewhere tropical, like Cancun or in the Bahamas, maybe even Malaysia was on the cards, but you take it with a grain of salt.

“Is this supposed to be a besties trip that I didn’t even know about until now?” you ask the two girls standing behind the car, leaning back onto the glossy material of the paint job while your arms are bridged between your chest. “I’m also assuming that this is predetermined–”

“Stop being so analytical.” Sana groans out, “You really have to think twice about what our summer plans were?”

“Maybe he just needs a few conditions.” Dahyun adds on, nudging Sana’s shoulder to which her face suddenly lights up in excitement. “Besides, he’s really good at reading between the lines, like, you know, he has a good thing for body language - go ahead, test him, I’m sure that he’ll show off like he always does.”

(It’s how you catch yourself shaking your head downwards to the Earth, hiding the grin that’s breaking on your face because Dahyun knows how well you observe your surroundings. She’s trying to play dumb at the fact that she went ahead to grab your duffel bag while getting the shower ready for yourself. You also notice that Dahyun’s driver got her roughly about ten minutes early to put your bag in the trunk and pretend that nothing ever happened. It’s cute when she gets sneaky and mischievous, because Sana will always buy into what she devises to get you stressed, a migraine pounding through the back of your head, taking it out when you have both of them moaning underneath or straddled on top of you.)

So you say: “Are there any guarantees to this if I do what you ask?”

Dahyun puts her passport out in front, shifting her thumb over to show yours underneath. You pretend to be shocked with lifted eyebrows, but you already have them figured out.

“Honey,” Sana says, blinking with her teeth peering through her smile, “I can guarantee that you've got us both.”

#twice smut #sana smut #male reader smut #kpop smut #minatozaki sana #twice sana #kpop fanfic #male reader #twice x male reader

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cauliflowercounty · 3 months

Text

Knives Dance (Part I)

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

After years of writing *literally nothing,* I never expected bald Austin Butler to inspire me again :)

Life does wonderful things sometimes. Feyd Rautha is a fucking snack. And whoops it looks like I invented a planet and a culture :/

Summary: You're the daughter of the Duke of the House of Ronen, and your father and Vladimir Harkonnen have arranged a marriage between you and Feyd-Rautha to join your two houses. When the House of Harkonnen pays a visit to your planet, Feyd discovers something unforeseen within himself during an assassination attempt…

Reader: she/her pronouns

Warnings: innuendo/suggestive content, attempted assassination, blood, violence, multiple murders

Word Count: 4.2k

Part I | Part II | Part III

The hydraulics whirr as the black metal ramp of the Harkonnen vessel opens downward onto the stone landing pad on planet Youra and hits the ground with a low thunk. Feyd follows his uncle as he floats out of the vessel toward the doors of the Youran citadel, which is nestled in the center of a towering mountain covered in dense forest. Through the canopy, he sees the flickering lights from within the treehouses that adorn the forest cover.

The fortress itself is bathed in a warm, yellow glow from the round floating lanterns that surround it. As they hover, they seem to spiral upwards in a concentric spiral and extend their reach up into the night sky. A line of Youran soldiers flank the walkway, dressed in ceremonial garb of earthy, brown leathers with teal accents and intricate geometric patterns. As the Harkonnens pass, the soldiers bow their heads to them, allowing the carved silver helmets to shine in the evening light.

The environment here could not be further from that of Giedi Prime with its cold, industrial landscape devoid of color and the stench of sulfur and gas. The jungle air here is saccharine and floral on Feyd’s tongue. He feels the brush of the evening breeze flowing past him out toward the sea from the surrounding jungle. As he breathes in, he notices the richness of the air, imbued with the essence of all the flora that have made Youra a treasure trove for natural resources and experimental medicines, reminding him why he and his uncle have arrived on this planet.

The endeavor to secure spice on Arrakis had not gone as smoothly as the Harkonnens had hoped, especially with constant Fremen attacks sabotaging their forces and Rabban’s pitiful attempt at countermeasures. The current state of their operation and the number of soldiers they were losing daily called for acquiring a new tactical advantage. As much as they hated to admit it, they would have been foolish not to seek one out.

The advantage lay on Youra, the planet of island rainforests and the home of the minor House of Ronen, where an uncountable number of plant and animal species flourished, supplying the population with life-saving natural compounds the renowned scientists had been extracting from nature and developing for centuries. Through this arranged marriage, the wealth of chemical knowledge and access to the raw materials would become House Harkonnen’s. Feyd could begin to taste his ascension to power. This was simply the next step necessary to turn the tides of this conflict on Arrakis, which would inevitably end in him assuming the title of Baron if not Emperor.

With a low rumble, the double doors in front of Feyd open to reveal your father and yourself. Laying eyes on you for the first time, Feyd stops in place, his heavy black boots almost stuck on the ground. When the conversation of an arranged marriage came up with his uncle, he was beyond apathetic, knowing that this would be a political move in which he had no obligation to have any investment. The woman would become his wife only by title. To his astonishment, he is entranced by your beauty, to the point of speechlessness. He almost completely ignores your father’s greeting and speech about the union of your two houses. You are radiant with your skin that glows in the light, unlike that of the Harkonnen women he is used to seeing. You look into his eyes, and he feels almost locked in, the rest of the world fading until all he sees is you.

“Welcome to our home, na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” you say to him, not breaking eye contact from underneath your headdress. Your striking eyes bore deep into his soul. It’s almost as if they’re calling to him. What’s most interesting to Feyd is that they don’t seem to contain a hint of fear or apprehension. He is used to making those around him crumple under the weight of their own terror with his mere presence so he can exploit those emotions and manipulate them as his own personal playthings. In defiance of his reputation, you seem undeterred by him staring straight at you. As your eyes glimmer in the lamplight, he feels his breath almost catch as they taunt him, draw him. Snapping himself out of the trance, a smirk forms on his lips, remembering how his uncle taught him to behave. He forces himself to relish the thought of toying with your apparent resolve.

As he looks down, he eyes your lavish, floor-length regalia. The same deep brown and teal that your father and the soldiers wear decorates the patterns on your cloak. He notices lines of gold thread woven into your hair, an appropriate show of the natural resources of your planet.

Strange, he thinks. The cloak is rather large and heavy. Despite matching the designs of the other Youran garb, it seems out of place to be a traditional outfit for the aristocracy of a rainforest civilization where the warm and humid conditions should prove inhospitable for cloaks of this nature.

The delicate, meek flower he was expecting to relish picking apart with ease you are not. He’s figured out you're a woman with something you’re intent on hiding from him. You’ve put on this front either bravely or stupidly, and Feyd-Rautha will peel back every layer one calculated move at a time until you are finally entirely his.

He steps forward and reaches down to take your hand in his. “My betrothed…” he whispers to you, his voice low and gravelly. “We finally meet, Little One. I must say you look exquisite. I expected nothing less.” He brings your fingers up to his lips and brushes his lips across them before pressing firm a kiss on the back of your hand His uncle seems most disgusted by Feyd’s tenderness, but Feyd keeps his gaze on you through hooded eyes, knowing that the first move in any game is imperative to the success of his endeavor. He sees yours flicker for a moment as your body tenses listening to his praise. He’s got you right where he wants you.

–

Dinner is filled with monotonous diplomacy, tiresome pleasantries, and planning of the wedding to take place on Giedi Prime, but Feyd hasn’t let his attention break from you. It’s as if the kiss he planted on your hand was the catalyst for the first crack in the wall you’ve put up, and now he’s waiting for the perfect moment to make his next move.

All of dinner he’s watched as you attentively listened to his uncle and your father exchange words and eat your dinner. He hasn’t failed to notice how your eyes dart over to look at him through your lashes. With every gesture you make and every word you say, he feels unequivocally enraptured. As much as he’s tried to suppress his emotions and stay faithful to his uncle’s teachings, grounded in violence and viciousness, his mind starts to wander.

He wonders what must it be like to have your touch flutter across his chest when he watches you delicately grasp your water goblet. When you fold your lips around your cup to drink, he imagines what they must feel like on his skin if you were to drag them down his neck tantalizingly slow. What if you were close enough to him to have your breath fan out across his skin as your lips caressed his? What must it be like to hold your softness in his hands? The very idea makes his breath hitch.

Of the many thoughts he has as he watches you, many of them becoming increasingly lewd as dinner continues, one remains in his head: if he is this captured by just your face and gaze, basking in the light of what you’re concealing under your cloak, must be heaven adjacent.

His desire to use you and leverage your own will against you is being chipped away little by little. Feyd’s hardened persona that his uncle helped construct is withering with every second he spends in your presence. The notion is nearly frightening to Feyd, but with every single glance and gesture, his heart, which may have turned to stone long ago, is beginning to accept it.

Feyd rips his attention away from you as your father stands to thank the Harkonnens once again for coming. “I shall have my servants show you where you shall be staying,” your father announces as he rises from his seat. “I have arranged for our head researchers to show you what progress we have had in our synthetic undertakings as of late. I guarantee you will be very interested in what they have to offer.”

As you stand, he notices how your hands pull together the front seam of your cloak, preventing it from opening. Curious.

You bid him goodnight and turn away to head to your quarters as a Youran servant beckons him to the guest wing. That night, Feyd cannot rest as he lays awake in bed in the opulent guest suite, images of you running through his head, and he almost smiles thinking about when you say his name so sweetly.

“Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.”

–

The next day, Feyd sees little of you. In the morning, he makes his way to your quarters only to be informed by a servant at your door that you have already departed for the day. When he asks where you have gone, the servant provides a murky response about your duties as Lady of the House and wedding preparations, which he as her betrothed would “surely understand.” Just as he decides he will find you himself, he is seized by his uncle as to meet the Youran ministers of culture, science, and development to learn about their acquisition.

Feyd cannot deny that your homeworld is impressive. It’s steeped in centuries of exploration and inquiry with unmatched record-keeping of not only science but tradition, too. The ceilings are vaulted and adorned with gold. The walls of the citadel are covered in elaborate murals painted on with vibrant colors or carved into the surfaces. Some depict traditional folktales, gods, and ceremonies while those opposite them describe the evolutionary lines of species, a true testament to Youra’s modernity and dedication to preserving your peoples’ history in living memory. If only he knew which mural decorates the wall concealing you.

As the picture of your world’s history becomes clearer, the air of mystery surrounding you only grows. Not once has he heard talk of you after his interaction with that servant, but throughout the day he has sensed hushed whispers that are almost certainly about him instead. As he passes soldiers, some of them almost seem to leer at his presence.

A few times, he thinks he can almost see the hem of your cape disappear around corners, but when he goes to investigate, there is nobody there. The anger he expected to have inside him due to your avoidance is nowhere to be seen, and only a burning intrigue remains.

“What a little enigma my wife is,” he thinks to himself when he enters the banquet hall for dinner as the last ray of sunlight fades from the windows as the sun dips below the horizon.

Almost on cue, the doors to the hall open again and to his gratification, it is you. He stands up from his seat and walks over to you. He cannot deny his own inclination when you smile at him softly, putting him at ease.

“Good evening, Na-Baron,” you greet as he stops in front of you. Your dulcet tones go straight to his heart, causing it to skip a beat. “I hope I’ve not kept you waiting long.”

“Not at all.” He takes your hands in his once again, running his thumb along the back of them and savoring the feeling of your soft skin. This time when his heart swells, he lets it happen, surrendering himself to your charm. “I would wait an eternity for you,” he says, realizing you enjoy it when he romances you.

“You don’t strike me as a man who likes to be kept waiting,” you reply, looking up into his eyes. “I am surprised you are not frustrated with me.”

“I make exceptions,” he replies, noticing how your lips curl into a small smile. “… for when it truly matters. Since you’ve been absent all day, tell me, Little One, what have you been doing while you were hiding from me all day?”

You let out a gentle exhale. “I assumed you might be curious about that,” you say to him, as you clasp his hands in yours, beginning to tug him backwards to the doors. “Would you join me outside before we eat, Na-Baron? I have something I want to show you that I’ve been working on in preparation for our marriage.”

Allowing you to lead him, he follows you as you pull him through the halls of the fortress. He senses the answers to the questions he’s been asking himself are within his grasp. You both head outdoors and descend a grand staircase toward a courtyard nestled in the center of the fortress that overlooks the ocean that is now a murky midnight blue.

The nighttime lanterns light the way once again, and you both continue into the courtyard which is unlike anything he’s ever seen before. The ground seems to be a single sheet of rust colored stone that is marbled with shards shimmery metals. The slab has massive circles cut into it spaced in a perfect grid. Inside the circle is a golden pool of luminescent water. Tall, half moon shaped walls cradle each pool with glyphs and carvings etched into them.

“What is this place?” he asks you, basking in the light emanating from all of the pools that surround the both of you as you continue down the center aisle.

“This is my favorite place in the castle,” you explain. “It’s where we keep one of every species our researchers are currently studying. The rock wall above the pools describes each evolutionary line and the discoveries about it we’ve made. There’s one I want to show you if you would allow me.”

He nods as you bring him to a pool whose accompanying slab remains blank. Looking down into the water, he spots a single indigo fish with long, delicate fins that trail behind it in the water. He watches as it circles the pool. It slows and shudders momentarily. A single incandescent scale breaks off and floats to the bottom of the pool. You kneel to gather the scale from the bottom, holding it so that he can see how the light flickers off its surface.

“Does it intrigue you?” he hears you ask, and he nods in return as something he thought he lost long ago begins to emerge inside of him: his sense of wonder.

“I have never seen such a creature. Would you tell me about it?”

“It would be my pleasure,” you grin. “This fish was discovered on an archipelago on the other side of the planet. I’ve been studying this fish with our most expert researchers. The pools it lives in almost disappear during the dry season, but we’ve found that they survive to the wet season because of their scales somehow. My father doesn’t know any of this. He still thinks we know nothing of this creature.”

“It’s marvelous,” he whispers to you, eyeing the small bubbles floating to the top of the water from the fish’s gills.

“I wanted to show you this fish because this is at the heart of our culture on Youra. Our people are on a constant mission to learn and discover, so we can help and care for those we hold dearest. With our marriage, the House of Harkonnen will be a part of that endeavor. I’m showing you this fish because when the fish shed their scales at the beginning of the wet season, they contain a high concentration of a novel compound that allows living things to retain water.”

He sees you fidget with your own hands as you explain. You’re nervous, he realizes.

“We have been able to extract it from the scales they drop,” you say with a slight waiver in your voice. Here you are bearing your hard work and dedication, your soul to him. Your vulnerability is evident. Before you were so confident with your gaze and now your eyes never stay on him for more than a fraction of a moment. If you were anyone else, he would have taken full advantage the opportunity to leverage your weakness, but he cannot bring himself to do so. “This knowledge is my gift to you na-Baron. I have been aware of your endeavors on Arrakis. I realize you may not be as invested in this arrangement as we are, but I wanted to give you this to mark the beginning of what is to come… I don’t expect you to do anything in return. Only wanted to communicate my intentions.”

His heart quivers as his mind darts back to the countless times his uncle has “gifted” things to him as rewards for doing his bidding. The concubines, armor, and weapons all fall to the wayside; now they’re all tainted in Feyd's mind by his uncle's conniving ways. They were never gifts in earnest, always being transactional or part of another of his uncle’s Machiavellian schemes. Never in his life had he been given something so thoughtful, something intended to truly protect him. The previous notions he had before of possessing you are bitter on his tongue. Now, he could never and the shame he feels for maybe the first time in years begins to burn into his psyche.

“Na-Baron,” you plead, bringing him out of his own thoughts. “Say something, please.”

“Thank you,” he finally says, taking your hands in his and giving them a squeeze. “I am grateful for your generosity, my little flower.”

Your eyes well up with tears and you let out a relieved sigh before your emotions bubble out of you. “You cannot fathom how happy I am to hear you say those words,” you say, bringing your hands to his again. “I was so worried about showing you this!”

Right when he opens his mouth to respond, his instincts as a warrior kick in as he hears the soft whistle of something flying through the air towards the both of you. In a flash, he’s grabbed you by your shoulder to force you to your knees as you let out a bewildered yelp. The sound lights his veins on fire and fills him with rage.

Against the blank stone slab of the fish’s pool he sees it: a green splatter of a sinister substance that drips down the stone in long tendrils. Below, the shattered remains of a poisoned dart sinking into the water. You’ve seen it, too. He swivels himself around in the direction the arrow came from. A hooded figure is emerging from behind another one of the stone walls, a serrated dagger in hand, poised to strike you down. Feyd reprimands himself for leaving his weapons behind in his room in the name of diplomacy, but he’s prepared to fight empty handed to protect you and punish your assailant.

Before he realizes, you’ve shed your cloak, allowing it to drop to the floor behind you and Feyd can finally see what you’ve been hiding. You’re wearing a sage green dress with a bodice plated in iron that’s been secured to in place with intricate leather straps and golden loops that wrap deliciously around your figure. The symmetric slits in your dress that extend almost to your hips reveal your garters where two silver daggers that curve into formidable hooks are secured to your outer thighs.

As soon as he realizes you’re armed, you’ve already grasped the leather wrapped handles of your weapons and drawn them from your thighs with a flourish, launching yourself at your attacker. The ground reverberates with your power, and your blades ring out as they clash with your opponent’s. The man grunts upon impact and with a vigorous push, you knock his weapon upwards and away from you as you swipe at his face with the other hand. When he stumbles backwards, his face covering is swept to the side.

“Ozran!” you growl as the man regains his composure. “What is the meaning of this? Traitor!”

“I could say the same for you, Lady Ronen, revealing our secrets to that Harkonnen!” Ozran snarls at you, his eyes wild as he begins swiping sloppily at your head, which you dodge with ease. Feyd knows the man is getting desperate. Ozran is quickly realizing running away would have been the best option after his poisoned arrow missed.

Ozran attempts to shake off his regret by hurling himself at you, trying to recover the situation now that he’s committed to one-on-one combat with you. “I will not stand by and have the rewards of our peoples’ work reaped by them. Without a daughter to marry off, our intelligence will remain ours, and I will protect it to the end, even if that means killing you.”

Feyd hears you tisk at his pitiful attempt at your life as your heel makes contact with his nose. Blood gushes from his nostrils and drips down his chin in thick droplets. He staggers back and loses his footing as you drive your blades into him, your footsteps smearing his blood on the floor as you move. Ozran’s hope drains from his eyes, and he coughs as you pull your knives back, his blood spilling onto the stone floor from the gaping hole in his body. He drops his weapon and it clatters on the ground beside him.

“Too bad you couldn’t get close enough to actually do any damage,” you say sweetly to him as he wheezes. “You were never a man worthy of battle. I’m surprised you even worked up the courage to merely attempt to kill me.”

“D-don’t worry, dear Lady,” he sneers as his knees hit the floor. “There are more of us who don’t appreciate our leaders betraying our ideals. They will avenge me, and you will join me in death.” With that, his body crumples in the pool of his own blood. Drawing his last breath, Feyd sees Ozran’s consciousness fade. From the shadows and behind the other stone walls, he senses more figures lurking.

“Na-Baron!” you call, as you throw Feyd your second knife, which he catches with a flick of his wrist as you pick up Ozran’s weapon. Your dagger is robust and extraordinarily crafted, truly a weapon worthy of your status Feyd thinks. With that, he joins you in battle when Ozran’s allies pounce, eager to avenge their fallen comrade. One by one, he cuts the treasonous soldiers down with you by his side, slashing their throats, stabbing them in their backs, hearing their bones break, and tendons tear. It’s exhilarating, fighting not just for you, but with you in perfect synchronization.

When the last one falls, their mangled bodies are piled around you. He looks at you with complete admiration in his eyes. Without a second thought, he pulls you close with desperation. Cradling your face in his free hand, he kisses you roughly and swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, tasting the familiar tang of iron. As you kiss him back with a fervor that makes his senses sing, he uses his other arm to pull you close, if he’s worried that you will join the souls of the dead around you and leave this world, something he can’t bear to think of now.

Reluctantly, you both break away from the kiss, resting your foreheads against one another. Your breaths are thick and heaving. You look down at his dominant hand, which still holds your second dagger.

“Are you going to kill me now, Na-Baron?” you ask as you look up at him, and he instinctively throws the knife away, letting it clatter on the floor. He shakes his head.

“I never anticipated my betrothed to have such prowess in battle,” he whispers lowly, returning his hand to your body. He drags his fingers across the places where the straps of your dress make indentations in your skin, making you shiver at his touch. His grip on your waist tightens when he palms your supple skin. You hum a sigh of satisfaction that is almost music to Feyd’s ears, and he could listen to it all day. “Watching you cut down each of them… What a lovely surprise it was… You are truly an unexpected paragon, my dear.”

“Unexpected…” you chuckle, blushing at his flattery. “May I ask another question of you?”

“Of course,” he replies, peering down at you with an ardent stare.

“Before coming here, were you aware there are many dangerous things in the rainforest, Na-Baron?” He nods. “Then why would you assume I am not one of them?”

“Clever girl,” he grins, pressing another kiss on your forehead.

“From now on, my blades will fight for you, Feyd-Rautha.”

“And mine for you, my love,” he replies as he dips his lips back down to yours. What a fool he was before, anticipating so little from his future wife. Now he knows better. He realizes who you really are, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough.

Thank you for reading!

Knives Dance Part II OUT NOW!

Let me know if you want to be added to my Feyd tag list

Taglist:

@austinbutlerslovers

#dune 2 #dune part two #dune part 2 #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #x reader #austin butler

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luveline · 11 months

Note

What would happen if Roan went through a phase of calling Eddie by his name instead of dad because she hears reader and Wayne calling him it?

(This was loosely inspired by this TikTok https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJqukwNU/)

thank you for your request! eddie and roan —roan starts calling eddie by his first name and he doesn't know how to feel. fem!reader, 1.5k

"Eddie? You want horseradish?" Wayne asks, wiping his hands in a rag.

Your eyes widen as Roan leaps up into your lap. You wrap your arms around her and almost get your teeth knocked out as she makes herself comfortable, one of her high ponytails tickling your cheek. Your laughter shakes you both.

"Yeah, please. Ro, horseradish?" Eddie asks, standing behind the chair next to yours, hand out to receive the jar of horseradish.

He takes the spoon. Roan settles at a sideways angle, giving you an ample view of her wrinkled nose. "No thanks, that stuff is stinky."

"You can't have tenderloin without horseradish, sweetheart," Wayne says, putting your plate in front of you. Fragrant steam wafts your way. "Now come on, sit in your own seat."

Roan sighs and turns to you morosely. "They always do this."

"They're tearing us apart," you say agreeably, fondly, rubbing her arm before lifting her from your lap and into the seat right beside you.

"They don't do anything. Horseradish smells a little strong, but that doesn't mean it isn't really, really yummy," Eddie says, sitting in the seat to your left.

It's dark outside, later than you intended to eat. Wayne and Eddie went out looking for ground beef to make meatballs and came back with beef tenderloin instead, which takes way longer to cook. It's been a nice evening while you were waiting, filled with VHS kids movies, conversation, and a secret bowl of hard pretzels.

"You said those pickled onions were yummy, too," Roan says, clearly disbelieving as Wayne puts her plate down in front of her.

"They're an acquired taste," Eddie says.

"A what?" Roan asks.

"They're not for everybody," Wayne explains. "Do you need help cutting your dinner?"

"It's okay," Roan says, picking up her fork eagerly. The tines look longer, more dangerous in her small hand, but you've learned not to worry.

"Come on, sweetheart, I'll cut it up for you," Eddie says, rolling up his sleeves.

You pick up your drink as Wayne offers it with a thank you, eyes closing in momentary bliss. Wayne makes the best sweet tea, and he doesn't skimp on the ice.

"No thank you, Eddie," Roan says, stabbing a piece of tenderloin. The fork scratches across the plate. Unbothered, she brings the beef to her mouth.

You almost choke on your drink.

"Excuse me?" Eddie asks.

You laugh. Wayne sits down for the first time in the last hour and tucks in his chair, shaking his head in defeat as he grabs for the horseradish and begins spooning it onto his plate.

"I said no thanks," Roan repeats around a nibble of beef.

"I heard that part. What did you call me?"

"What, Eddie?" Roan asks. A little smile has her lips tilting upward, a fleck of beef on her chin. It's evidence that she knows what she's done.

You lean over to wipe her chin. "Oh no."

"No thank you dad," Eddie says emphatically. "Dad, daddy, hell, I'll accept papa."

"Everybody else calls you Eddie," Roan says, shrugging little shoulders, her hair bouncing either side of her face.

"I'm not everybody else's dad," Eddie says, slipping between your chair and Roan's. He sounds strange —not upset but shocked, an unusual colour on him. He eases the knife and fork out of her hands and begins slicing up her food into smaller bites. "I'm your dad."

"Okie dokie, Eddie."

You can see Eddie sticking his tongue in his cheek while he stands there. He isn't mad; he rarely gets angry over things like this, and even less with Roan. Doesn't mean he likes what's happening, though.

The evening continues like that. Roan can tell Eddie doesn't like being called by his name and it eggs her on. By the end of the night she's smirking every time she speaks to him, Wayne's clearly amused, and you're not sure how to feel.

You have to use the bathroom, catching Eddie on the way back with a kind hand on his wrist.

"Hey, handsome," you say, looking over the soft slopes of his cheeks, his puppy dog browns, his brows where they've furrowed. You stroke the pulsing vein bisecting his forehead in concern. "You cool?"

"Why is she calling me Eddie?" he asks, shaking his head gently.

"'Cos she could tell you didn't like it. Want me to ask her to cut it out?"

Eddie nudges you. He's dressed nice for a day at home, a slightly too tight t-shirt bragging the lines of his chest and stretched at the curves of his biceps. You tug on one mindlessly.

"No. Maybe I'll start calling her daughter, see if that works. Or tell her she can't call me dad, reverse psychology."

"Probably shouldn't."

"No, I shouldn't." He covers your hand at his sleeve. "Thanks for worrying about me, but it's fine." His face inches closer to yours. "It's kind of funny. I guess I just got so used to being called dad I didn't realise I'd miss it this fast."

"She'll forget it by tomorrow," you assure him, closing your eyes quick as he presses a good kiss to the corner of your mouth. More than a year down the line and still his kisses make your heart skip.

"She better."

Eddie steals another kiss before giving your hand a finger-tingling squeeze and ditching you for the bathroom.

You return to the living room faster than Roan must anticipate, catching her crouched by the doorway, eavesdropping. You raise your eyebrows at her.

"Whatcha looking for, gorgeous?"

Roan looks as though she might pretend otherwise, but eventually admits, "I heard what dad said."

"Which part?"

"That he misses being called dad. Am I in trouble?"

"Do you feel like you're in trouble?" you ask, bending at the waist to meet her eyes.

"No, but," —she touches her tummy— "I feel bad."

You hold your arms out for a hug. Roan grabs your waist as much as she can with her shorter arms, head tilted to the side as you murmur in her ear, "It was only a joke, babe. Right? You were just being funny. Daddy doesn't mind."

"Are you sure?"

"You're so lovely," you praise, easing her head back, your hand encapsulating her cheek and ear. Her hair and skin are incredibly soft beneath your palm. "You have a super big heart, just like daddy. It's no biggie, okay? Ask him when he comes back if you want to. I know he'll tell you you're not in trouble."

You rub the apple of her cheek in a tight circle as you stand. Roan nods against your hand, her back straightening as the bathroom door closes and Eddie's footsteps approach. He beams when he discovers you both together.

"Everything okay?" he asks, wiping his hands in his shirt.

You encourage Roan toward him. "Tell dad."

"Tell me what?" he asks.

Roan puts her hand out toward him. You make you way to the kitchen as Eddie takes it.

Wayne's smoking a cigarette by the open back door, smoke furling lazily from between his fingers and out into the backyard.

You turn your attention to Eddie pulling Roan up onto his hip, poking at her sweetheart chin. "Babe?" he asks her.

"You're good with her," Wayne says, flicking Ash haphazard into the breeze. "I don't think I've ever told you that. You can see how much she trusts you."

Internally, you glow like the heart of star, joy like an intense and sparkling heat. Externally, you stay cool. Wayne is a chill man. You endeavour to be totally chill.

"Thank you," you say, crossing your arms across your stomach. "I have a really good teacher."

Wayne brings his cigarette to his lips. "You do," he says, taking a drag through his smile. He looks past you to where Eddie's standing, his arm holding Roan like a seatbelt to his chest.

"Sorry if I hurt your feelings," Roan says quietly, looking down at his shoulder.

Eddie nudges her face with his, forcing her to look up. Her hesitance melts away at the loving smile on his face, more so when he says, "You didn't hurt my feelings, superstar. Don't get me wrong, I don't want you to call me Eddie 'cos I'm your dad. That's nice for me. It feels kind of like getting a hug. It makes me really proud 'cos it's you, but I was just being dramatic. You'll get it when you're older, all the grown up junk."

It's charming to hear his attempt at explaining sentimentality.

"Plus," Eddie whispers, nose to nose with her, "it was a little funny."

Roan presents her face for kissing. Eddie plants a big one on either cheek.

"I love you," he says.

"I love you too, dad." Roan fidgets. "What about if I can call you Eddie on the weekends?"

"I'll have to think about it."

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seeingivy · 15 days

Text

espresso

actor!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my dream girl fic

previous part linked here

songs mentioned: love is embarassing by olivia rodrigo (based on this npr tiny desk) and espresso by sabrina carpenter (based on this performance)

[eren]: like how irritated are you on a scale of one to ten?

[mikasa]: ONE THOUSAND

[eren]: i wasn’t asking you…

[stacy, publicist]: ET team is asking for a comment on bad blood. let me know if there’s anything you want to say

[megumi]: yuuji called me cute? but then he took it back, but it kind of seemed like he was too shy to be saying it in the first place? idk….

[megumi]: honest to god, do you think he thinks i'm cute?

[leah]: call the parents when you get a chance! same old same old :/

you silence the ringer on your phone, before turning to your right, where your producer, will, musters the peachiest smile he can produce. and you can tell from the nervousness in his demeanor that he’s a little too cowardly to ask the question on his mind, unlike eren.

you can appreciate that about him. that there’s some type of scarcity he holds in every interaction he has with you – like he’s intentionally picking out everything he says to you, in an effort to be careful.

“you know how these types of things go. do you think i’ll get the first spot?” you ask.

will doesn’t respond immediately - which gives you your answer – as you slump against his plush green couch, while his daughter ellie tasks herself with tangling in between your legs.

ellie is will’s two year toddler with beautiful long eyelashes and a tiny button nose. you had met her when she was barely six months old and an expressive little bundle of blankets, when you first signed on as one of his new artists at dancing lady.

you were still debating it at the time, deciding to go the singer-songwriter route and picking dancing lady over real sun. and while you were heavily leading towards the former over the latter, due to the lack of former victoria’s secrets models wandering around, it was will’s normalness that sold you entirely.

do you mind if my daughter is here sometimes? i just got divorced and well…sometimes it’s kind of hard to find childcare…or afford it.

it reminded you of your own parents, dragging you and leah to the side room of the clinic or leaving you in the spare classrooms on weekdays when you were a kid. and though those days are long gone, the feeling still remains.

sometimes it still feels like you’re chasing that – trying to hold everything you’ve acquired desperately close to you, just because you know it can slip out of your fingers the second you look away. more specifically, what it feels like to feels like to have nothing.

you were more than happy to oblige will’s request – and well, ellie was adorable.

it was an added bonus that there was a familiarity that will exuded – and it was wholly comforting in the littered sea of plastic that you always seemed to be floating in.

“three exclusive versions will boost their sales considerably.” will states, his tone miserable.

you sigh, before reaching for your phone and scrolling the notifications away. and while it’s in entirely bad taste – scrolling through twitter was one of the worst vices you had. reading the think pieces, the timelines of all of your bad blood (you thought the timeline was a little bit on the nose), and worst of all – the hate comments that seemed to litter your feed.

“you could always do the same thing.” he offers.

“absolutely not. i’m a no remix, no features, and no multiple versions artist. it feels a little tasteless doing something like that just for a number one spot. i don’t want my fans to drop fifteen dollars just to hear exclusive versions of my songs when they’ve already paid for the original.” you state.

“and you don’t want thing one and thing two to know that you’ve gotten under their skin.” will adds.

as much as you cared about getting the number one spot – because deep down, you really did – letting kim know that she had settled under your skin and caused an irritation, for a second time now, was far worse than occupying a lower spot.

deep down, it was really about getting your flowers. that’s what it all meant to you – the awards, the charts, and the fans – nitpicking each parts of your songs, getting to watch your life on display and then get to revel in your thoughts about it.

it was the one place that you got to control the narrative. because while no one is there at the after parties or the award shows, or even in the room with you or on the date, what you get to put out there is the closest to that.

and the second it’s out there, it stops being yours. and starts being everyone elses. it’s freeing that way – packing it into a neat box and dropping it on people’s doorsteps.

you give up. there were always more songs.

“yeah. that too.” you respond.

will gives you a nod, before swinging back in his chair to mix the backing tracks on his laptop, as you turn your attention to ellie and place your hands in her dark brown hair. the braid that you did earlier is entirely messed up now, no thanks to the fact that she spent the last hour of recording running around to her heart’s desire.

you give her a smile, tapping on the tops of your thighs and gesturing for her to jump up, as you comb through the tangled knots with your fingers, before fixing her soft hair back into the little flower hair tie you had placed in her hair earlier.

“i’d love to take a flamethrower to the next awards show. melt some plastic while i’m ahead.” will mumbles, which earns him a hearty laugh from you.

“and i’d help you free willy.”

you press a kiss to ellie’s hairline before tapping the top of her head to signal you were done. and she gives you a giggly smile back before she returns to her usual shenanigans, by climbing under the glass table and sticking her feet up on the metal.

“you’re so gross. don’t call me that.” will groans.

you give him a smile instead.

“how was studio eleven anyways?” he asks.

“good. i got to see megumi after a really long time and historia was great. oh, and this god awful idiot tried to hit on me.”

you’d be lying if you said you had stopped thinking about ryomen sukuna after you met him two days ago. that there was something intriguing about him, that you couldn’t exactly put your finger on – that led to you thinking about him far too much.

all in all, there was one thing that you prided yourself on and it was being resourceful. being knowledgeable, taking the time to learn more, and keeping yourself informed. it was what kickstarted your career, being able to watch people and learn the sleight of hands, and more importantly, apply them.

it’s how you got picked out of the group by fame as old as time – the lynch family. because it was one thing to be a pretty face, to have talent, but being able to sniff out the star and pick the needle out of the haystack – it wasn’t something that could be taught. and it’s something that you learned, at age eleven, fast.

the entire income of your household depended on it. and that tends to foster some type of ambition.

and while you’re no longer associated with the lynch family, having now run as far from them as you can, the ability holds. and in moments like this, it even turned out to be useful – being so resourceful.

megumi, very lovingly so, called it stalking. and well, sometimes that’s exactly what it was. and in the two days you had to spare, you had learned almost anything and everything you could have about ryomen sukuna.

he owns a coffee shop in los angeles, called play coffee, that he’s been working at since he was sixteen. and he offered to become the main investor after they almost went down under. he also loves to joke about how they almost fired him for how shit he was at making matcha lattes.

he’s had a long and complicated history but there’s some pull that he has that keeps him around. because dating your manager, getting caught with weed at fifteen, and an anticipatory slander campaign – it would be enough to ruin someone else. or at the very least, kick them down.

but not him.

his fans speculate that he has twelve tattoos, his most popular being of the tarot card, the hanging man (which you then subsequently googled). upright, meaning sacrifice, release, and martyrdom. and reversed meaning stalling, needless sacrifice, and fear of sacrifice.

his most recent release – as patrick zweig in challengers, which you rushed to watch with embarrassing speed (and consequently, got fan edits for that you can’t help but watch – is suspected to get him shortlisted for a selling star award, which is just one stop away from him winning an institute award next.

all and all, he was on the come up. with the hit movie and now the expected hit show, one thing was clear to you.

that sukuna was the one to look out for. mainly because there was something electric about watching him on the screen. because the way he moves, speaks, and walks on the screen – there’s something so mesmerizing about it that you can’t help but tear yourself away.

“did you entertain it?” will asks.

“no. he started off by blatantly lying.”

will scoffs.

“was he cute at least?”

you roll your eyes.

that was the understatement of the century.

“shut up, will.”

and the acidic tone in your voice is enough to pique will’s attention, as he now swirls around in the chair, and gives you the most irritating and accusatory smile he can muster.

“i said shut up.” you repeat.

“i literally didn’t say a single word.”

“but you thought it. i can tell.” you bite back.

“you’re a child.” will responds.

sukuna wastes no time in arriving to the performance at the npr offices. and it works out considerably well – with your giggling fans questioning his presence and asking for pictures, accompanied by a blind item that he sent in to one of the biggest twitter accounts himself.

[sukuna]: so what did megumi say?

[yuuji]: IDK HE LIKE KIND OF LOOKED AWAY WHEN I CALLED HIM CUTE BEFORE I STARTED BACKTRACKING

[sukuna]: …

[sukuna]: about y/n dipshit

[yuuji]: WORD WORD

[yuuji]: she is single. not talking to anyone yet. he kind of made it seem like she’s not that upset about her breakup tho? if that makes sense

[yuuji]: apparently, she almost never is? not in a heartless type of way though, just in a…i’m not gonna let a man get me down type of way

[yuuji]: that sounded more corny when i typed it that way…

[yuuji]: he said she just knows her worth. that’s all.

sukuna hopes he’s worth a shot.

it’s an entire somersault in his stomach when he sees you walk out, a lilac purple guitar in your hands that you set down, before giving an excited smile to the fans cheering for you at his side, blowing spare kisses to the people in the front.

it’s hard not to stare full on. though he supposes for his purposes, that’s the exact type of thing he should be doing. and the plethora of information that he learned in the free time he had in the past two days swims in his head.

you like silver jewelry and not gold. the ring on your middle finger is one that a fan gifted you in lisbon and you got your cartilage pierced at a tattoo parlor after taking one of your last finals in college.

you took a few classes here and there at new york university – poetry, screenwriting, and women in politics. you were born and raised in new york, having started your singing career at the ripe age of sixteen before you were scouted at twenty.

“hi guys! i’m y/n – i’m so flattered that npr invited me here to sing a few songs for you. it’s so cool to be here with all of you guys and kind of show you some of the new stuff i’ve been working on and play some old ones while i’m ahead. but yeah –”

sukuna watches as you pause, making eye contact with him for the first time before you pick up the guitar and swing the strap over your shoulder.

sukuna pretends that it doesn’t make his heart swell up in hope, that his presence was enough to warrant a pause from you.

“well, right. this first song is a new one that i’ve been working on for quite some time. it’s one of my recent favorites, i wrote it around a month ago after i went to this stupid afterparty from one of the events that my studio was holding and it’s about some of the company i’ve kept. it’s called love is embarrassing.” you state.

I told my friends you were the one After I'd known you, like, a month And then, you kissed some girl from high school And I stayed in bed for, like, a week When you said space was what you need Waited by my phone like a goddamn fool

sukuna quickly realizes that there’s something about singing that does it for you. because your entire demeanor changes. you relax your shoulders from the tense position they’re usually in, swing your hips to the beat of the song, and make very expressive facial expressions that in his two days of research he hasn’t seen otherwise.

And now, it don't mean a thing God, love's fuckin' embarrassing Just watch as I crucify myself For some weird second string Loser who's not worth mentioning My God, love's embarrassing as hell

and in the twenty minutes that follow your half and hour performance, he’s able to convince the body guards that he knows you – after providing an autograph, of course – and then knocks on the door of your dressing room before walking straight in.

sukuna can tell that it startles you at first, as he walks in to find your wide eyes, before you visibly relax at the sight of him. and he delights in the smile that spreads across your face as you lean back in the chair as he takes his rightful spot behind you, placing his hands on the sidebars of your chair and leaning forward.

“princess bubblegum. you again. to what do i owe the pleasure?” you ask.

“figured i’d stop by, marceline. i’m a huge fan.”

you smile back at sukuna through the mirror, biting down on the side of your cheek, as you reach for your lipgloss and toy with the cap in your shaky fingers.

“you weren’t even singing along.” you state.

“two of those songs were new. and i’m learning.” sukuna clarifies.

you grin.

“you’re doing your homework.”

“i’m somewhat of an overachiever.”

you push out of your chair, turning around to rest against the back of the vanity as you reach for one of the purple candies on your desk and pop it into the side of your cheek.

“i’m guessing you didn’t harass my team, my social media managers, and two of my friends for tickets for nothing. you want something.” you state.

“perceptive. are you always like this, dove?” sukuna asks.

“does that bother you? it’s something you’ll have to get used to.” you ask.

“quite the contrary. i enjoy a challenge.”

you hum, twisting the plastic in your fingers.

“really. what do you want?”

sukuna nods, before crossing the way and leaning against the edge of your vanity at your side.

“i think that you and i could be really useful to each other. i know that your song is about to get blocked by kim and her bullshit and well…”

“your show is about to get tanked by whatever it is she has coming next.” you finish.

sukuna grins.

“you know about my show? have you been stalking me?”

you feel your cheeks burn.

“because of megumi, sweetheart. nothing more nothing less.”

sukuna feels his chest pang slightly, from the embarrassment. because of course you know about the show from megumi.

“right, well. seriously. kim and aimee aren’t the biggest fans of you. and well, it would really piss them off if you started dating me, even if it was just for looks. what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

you sigh, pushing off the edge of your chair, as you stand close to him. and you’re able to smell it again, the minty musk, as you give him a smile.

“i appreciate the offer. but, i’m not interested in getting tangled up with them again.”

“they started it already. you don’t want to bite back?” sukuna goads.

“i’m not the type.” you respond.

sukuna pauses.

“from what i’ve seen, i don’t necessarily think that's true.”

“have you got me all figured out, sukuna?” you ask.

he loves the way his mouth rolls off your tongue and the accusatory tone in your voice when you say it. you’re trying to get him to take the bait, like the two of you are playing a game.

and he leans closer, smiling down at you as he wraps he cups your cheek with his left hand, before pinching at your cheek.

“i’m almost positive that i do.” he responds.

and he’s quick with it, reaching forward and tucking the stray strands of your hair behind your ear, before basically teleporting to the door.

“either way, you know where to find me if you change your mind.” he states, before slamming the door shut behind him.

“okay, so like why haven’t you just…asked him out yet?” you ask.

you watch as megumi spits the majority of the shot he just downed back into the glass, before slamming it down and leaning forward on the table.

“are you insane?”

“i think you might be. i mean, he’s literally flirting with you in these texts.” you respond.

you scroll through the chat again – noting the cute 0.5 picture of yuuji as the profile picture – earning you a glare from megumi before he snatches the phone back. you give him a pointed look, before shrugging and lifting your own glass to your lips.

“i just…get really nervous.” he stutters.

“well, i can give you a few pointers. first things first, when he tries to kiss you, don’t dodge him. and when you do actually muster up the courage, don’t bite him by accident.”

meugmi shoots you a glare and you can’t help but smirk at him.

there’s nothing as special as a first boyfriend. the novelty of it all – holding hands in between classes, texting the night before to plan a hug at dismissal, and in your case, having things tumble down when he starts sobbing after you kiss for the first time.

“hey. are…are you crying?”

you were positive that you did it right. the seven videos that you had watched the night prior and the excessive consulting from leah was exactly what you put into practice. closing your eyes, leaning forward, and pressing your lips against his. but you’re not sure what exactly happened, because two seconds later there was bright red blood coming out of your lips and an incessant amount of apologies coming out of megumi’s mouth.

but after you had reassured him that it was perfectly fine and that it was an accident, there was something still lingering in the air. because in the few seconds that followed when you tried to initiate it again, megumi dodged it all together and nearly flopped on to the pavement as he put his head in his hands.

there was something awkward about the entire thing. that weird pit in your stomach, the way your skin seemed to course in embarrassment at the fact that he didn’t really seem to enjoy it, and the metallic taste still lingering on your slightly swollen lip.

“are you okay, megumi?” you ask.

“yeah. yeah, i’m sorry. we can do it again.”

you frown.

“we don’t have to.”

“do you want to?” he asks.

you take him in fully – eyes wide and skin pale – as you reach forward, placing one of his hands on your shoulder.

“well, not if you’re going to look at me all weird after. you’re kind of freaking me out, megs.”

he sighs, before nervously rubbing his fingertips against his palms, as he gives you a shaky nod. it’s only then that you note that the scabs on his knuckles have barely peeled, an indication that he’s been picking at them. and really, an insinuation that something is bothering him.

“i won’t stop being your friend if we don’t date anymore.” you clarify.

megumi gives you a halfhearted smile.

“well, that’s just because you don’t have other friends.” he mumbles.

you snort, before shoving him in the side.

“asshole.”

“bitch.”

and you’re not sure what it is, maybe the fact that the joke has broken the ice a little bit, but he leans forward, his hands shaking as he peers his steely blue eyes into yours.

“y/n. can i please tell you a secret?” he whispers.

“okay.”

he pauses.

“i don’t like you.”

you pinch your llps in a line.

“charming.”

he shakes his head, almost like he’s frustrated.

“i mean. i don’t think i could like you.”

“wow. keep it coming, fushiguro.”

he glares in response.

“you know, you could try letting me finish.” megumi deadpans.

“the opportunity was just too good. but really, do finish.”

megumi bites at the sides of his lips, before taking a deep breath.

“you’re like my best friend. i think you’re really funny, really cool, and sometimes you’re the only person i want to be around, even if we’re kind of just sitting around quietly. and you’re pretty so i figured that…that if i tried to date you, it would work.”

“huh?”

“like, you’re the best girl to do it. there’s no one like you. but…but if i kiss you and i feel nothing…maybe that means it’s not about personality or liking people….and more about the fact that…that you’re a girl and not a boy…and i guess i can’t get over that.”

you pause.

“why would i need to be a boy?” you whisper.

and in the five seconds it takes to mutter those eight words, you clock the reason all together.

it’s because megumi is gay.

“i was like fourteen.” megumi deadpans.

“and that’s no reason to forget the lessons you learned. no biting, no dodging, just –”

megumi shakes his hand in the air, his face curled up in disgust, as he pushes another one of the shots towards you.

“this is disgusting. let’s talk about something else.”

while megumi pretends to be a larger than life hater of your resourcefulness, he’s truly the only person who can match your energy sometimes. which in this case, includes pressing your ear against one of the private rooms in the club, trying to catch the end of the conversation.

“i can barely hear shit. the music is way too loud.”

“yeah. this is making it sound all muffled.” megumi responds.

you look to your left to find him crouched on the floor, the diaphragm of a stethoscope pressed against the wall as he leans forward to listen.

“are you fucking insane? where did you even get that?”

“lost and found.”

“who the fuck brings a stethoscope to the club?”

“it’s the first week of october, dumbass. some girl probably dressed up as a sexy nurse and left it on the floor.”

“give me that.” you hiss.

“fuck no, get your own.”

“they’re my ex-friends. and currently trying to stop me from charting. hand it over.”

megumi gives you a glare, as you place the pieces in your ear, and the two of you lean forward against the wall again. and while it does little to help except piercing your ears. though all you hear is the shuffling of chairs, as you give megumi a wide-eyed look, to stand up and yank the earpieces out.

and really, it is horrible timing because as the two of you stand up – with you linking your arms in with megumi’s to hide the stethoscope behind his back – as you shoot aimee and kim a peachy smile. and it’s a sickly sweet smile that aimee and kim give you, accompanied with a look up and down the length of your figure.

“hi peach.” aimee states.

you can feel your skin burn at the same old shitty nickname.

“we were just talking about you.” kim starts.

“likely thing for the two of you to be doing.” megumi mutters.

kim shoots megumi an irritated glare, before reaching forward, and placing one of her hands on your shoulder.

“i had a question for you. are you dating kuna?” kim asks.

you pinch your nose in disgust.

“what's it to you?”

kim smiles.

“we dated for a long time. just wanted to make sure he’s in good hands.” she clarifies.

“it was barely three months.” you state.

like always, kim sours quickly.

“and it’ll be even shorter when it comes to you.” kim states.

you roll your eyes. but before you can respond, she leans forward, pressing her fingers against your ear to fix your hair, before batting her eyelashes at you.

“i don’t want you to get hurt again. and well, you better quit while you’re ahead, peach. guys like that won’t stick around for girls like you. you can’t exactly give him what he wants.”

on the almost quiet drive home, with weary looks from megumi, you make seven calls, canceling your plans for tomorrow and making your plan while you’re ahead.

“you’re so skilled with balls.”

sukuna rolls his eyes, only to turn to his left and find what might be his most agitating (and his secret personal favorite) co-star, satoru gojo.

“you should invest in a tape recorder. listen to the tape back at the end of the day and do some reflection.” sukuna states, before lifting the ball into the air and watching it swish into the net.

in their last few days of press, the marketing team for the show decided that the group of them were going to be participating in a charity all-stars basketball game. it was one of the most anticipated events of the year, with celebrities being on both teams, and special surprise performances for the halftime show.

the combined sales of the tickets, signed jerseys, and meet and greets raised tens of thousands of dollars, and all in all, it was one of the better events that sukuna found himself being forced to attend. that and the fact that athletics were something that sukuna was skilled at – something reinforced by the fact that his team was almost ten up at the halftime mark.

sukuna takes his seat on the courtside bench, satoru handing him a gatorade as the two of them lean forward on their knees. it’s kind of intentional – the two of them sitting together, posing the way they were – only because it made for really good press.

he catches sight of kim and aimee on the other side of the court, posing for the camera by pressing a kiss to each other’s cheeks, before leaning back in their chair, entirely bored.

“ladies and gentleman, please welcome our special half-time show guest, y/n l/n.”

sukuna nearly jolts up in his chair as the lights flash in the center of the court – to the sight of you wearing a light pink crew neck and a white tennis skirt – with a light pink ribbon tangled into your hair.

“was she always on the setlist?”

“don’t think so.” satoru mumbles back.

Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso Move it up, down, left, right, oh Switch it up like Nintendo Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso

sukuna supposes that it should be a bad sign that this is the second time in a few days that he finds himself being mesmerized by your presence. and that this time, satoru’s noticed.

“dude. you’re like drooling.” he whispers.

“shut the fuck up.”

Too bad your ex don't do it for ya Walked in and dream came trued it for ya Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya I know I Mountain Dew it for ya That morning coffee, brewed it for ya One touch and I brand newed it for ya

sukuna watches as you shoot him a wink, before throwing the sparkly microphone in your hand to one of your backup dancers, and turning around.

and really, it’s one of the most overwhelming feelings he’s had – that wholehearted and blissful exhilaration that pounds in his chest – as he watches you pull your crewneck over your head, only to be wearing his jersey underneath. (that and the fact that the resounding cheers that erupt after the fact are music to his fucking ears).

I'm working late 'cause I'm a singer Oh, he looks so cute wrapped around my finger My twisted humor, make him laugh so often My honey bee, come and get this pollen

he can feel his heart drop in his chest as you spare a wink, before returning to your choreography.

“so that’s why you’re fucking drooling.” satoru states, giving him a hearty smile as he wraps one of his arms around his shoulder.

sukuna can’t even muster an irritated look to give back to satoru.

“who fucking wouldn’t?” sukuna mutters.

“that’s real cute, dude. the espresso thing.”

“what espresso thing?” sukuna asks.

“you know. because you own the coffee shop and shit? isn’t that what she means?” satoru asks.

of course that’s what you meant. and it’s in that split second that every hunch that sukuna has – that you’re every bit of what he expected, that you were just like him, that you were the exact type he knew you were – as he stands up, crossing his hands over his chest as he gives you a smile.

and he can feel his heart pounding as you pull the ear pieces out to hang around your shoulders before walking over to him, your hands behind your back as you give him a sweet smile. only to turn immediately to his left and look at satoru.

“hi.”

he watches as satoru spits the gatorade back into the bottle, before standing up and running his hands through his hair. it slightly irritates him, the slight change in satoru’s demeanor.

“hi?”

you extend your hand out.

“i’m y/n.”

and sukuna’s irritation gets even worse as satoru lifts your knuckles to his lips and presses a kiss against your hand.

“satoru.” he responds.

you give him a smile.

“that’s cute.”

you try not to relish in the way that sukuna clicks his tongue in his cheek, trying his best to hide his frustration, as you look up at satoru.

“to be honest, i kind of came here with an ulterior motive.”

“my favorite kind of motive.” satoru responds.

you walk over to satoru’s side, linking your hand in with his, as you point to the other side of the court.

“you see that empty black seat right there?”

“next to aimee lynch?”

“that’s my seat.”

satoru looks down at you, as he leans forward.

“we can’t have you sitting there.” he whispers.

“only if you insist.” you respond.

satoru puts his bottle down and you watch as he retreats to the other side to retrieve the chair, as you turn over to sukuna.

“hi lavagirl.” you state.

sukuna grins in response.

“her hair is a little more neon than mine, but it’s always a pleasure, sharkboy.” sukuna responds.

you give him a smile, noting the flashing cameras at your side, as you bring your hands forward, holding the sharpie up in between the two of you.

“what’s this?” sukuna asks.

“i got one of the last jersey’s. it wasn’t signed.” you ask.

sukuna feigns shock.

“you poor baby. we can’t have that, now can we?”

you shake your head as sukuna smiles, taking the pen from your fingers, before signaling for you to turn around with his pointer finger.

and it makes you shiver as he bends down, taking the time to move the hair to the side of your shoulder before scribbling on your back. and that burning warmth that pools in your stomach gets even worse as his breath tickles your neck, before he leans over and presses a kiss to the nape of your neck.

“one thing.” he whispers.

you swallow hard, the whisper in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“what’s that?”

you watch as satoru walks up, placing the chair right next to his, as you and sukuna shoot him a smile.

“try to rile me up and it’ll be more than that next time.”

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sixosix · 6 months

Text

ALL EYES ON YOU, MY MAGICIAN | LYNEY

please note that lyney and mc are 20+ in this series !! genshin hasn’t explicitly stated lyney’s age but there are a couple scenes where lyney talks about drinking— and i’m stating this now because lyney and mc drink alcohol for this chapter.

warnings drinking, kissing (kinda), hopeless pining, dialogue heavy orz, wc 3.8k

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

You and Aether once again find yourselves in an inconspicuous meeting spot, which was just a shadowy corner of Cafe Lutece, your exchanges veiled by the guise of three friends casually eating dinner. Paimon is, of course, stuffing her mouth with the array of desserts; Aether is sipping on a drink she ordered for him, brows furrowed in deep thought, and you’re still wondering why Lyney lied to your face.

After your spar with Lyney, you realized a few things. 1) He knows more than he lets on. 2) He knows that you’re onto him. 3) He could have easily called you out on it, but he didn’t. What was his goal here? Is he playing along?

Or is he hiding something bigger than what you’re trying to go after? Magicians tend to play little tricks to hide a grander one.

Aether hums thoughtfully. “Do you believe him?”

“Definitely not,” you reply swiftly—bitterly, too, because you don’t know what you’re looking for. “I feel like I’m walking straight into a trap.”

You’re a hypocrite, but you’re essentially doing this for them, so you’re better than a hypocrite, at least.

Aether frowns, contemplating. Paimon speaks up on his behalf, fork in hand, “That's strange. Paimon thought you were close! With what it looked like when we found you talking to him.”

“Why?” you demand. It was Lyney who was getting close—literally. “What does it look like to you? I mean, to me, it's as if saying the wrong thing would prompt him to kill me himself. If he wanted to."

Aether suggests, "You should check your eyes."

You huff, stubbornly taking a huge sip of your Fonta. These things taste great. Their sweetness always left you craving it even when you don’t like drinking. Paimon, because she’s an expert, sensed your newly acquired favorite and insisted that Aether buy you one.

“I feel kind of bad now. It seems that my blackmail is just getting in the way of your drama with Lyney,” Aether admits.

“We don't have drama,” you dismiss, which is instinctual by this point, “We just hated each other. He used to get on my nerves a lot—and turns out he doesn’t plan on stopping.”

Under the muted glow of the street lamps, your words trail off. Your gaze lingers on your palms. It is not obvious—you’d have to look closely, but there were scars on your palms. Most of them were from tending to plants and sharp tools, while the others were marks of burns. You wonder how Lyney noticed.

Aether calls for your name. You’re dragged back to reality when Paimon waves her tiny hands in front of your face.

“Right, sorry,” you laugh humorlessly, turning your hands back around. “Um, what should we do about Lord Tartaglia?"

Aether and Paimon share a confused glance. “Childe? What's up with Childe?”

“I told them that I'm under his faction as a cover.”

“Oh, that's no problem,” Aether assures, snorting dismissively. “Childe still owes me a lot—I'll tell him to keep his mouth shut.”

You glance around the area. There were only a few customers. A Melusine kicks her feet by the entrance as she digs in on her cake, a young man whose face is buried in his palms, and a little girl and her mother share a plate of Conch Madeleine. How sweet.

“Will that work?” you whisper, “I am trying to extract Fatui information. People usually get killed over this.”

Aether, with a sly grin, says, “Again, Childe owes me a lot. My magic word is Teucer.”

Feeling a little hopeful, you decide to look on the brighter side of things. A Harbinger and an Outlander by your side against Lyney and The Knave sounds more promising than years' worth of memorizing Fontaine Flowers’ textbook definitions and a rusty polearm.

“Is there anything you want to find out in particular?” you ask.

"Anything about my sister, really,” Aether says dejectedly. “I've traveled from Mondstadt to Fontaine, and only one Archon gave me a sliver of info. If you find anything, that’s all I ask for.”

Getting blackmailed by such an earnest brother is possibly the most troublesome way of getting blackmailed. Seeing such a longing expression on his face— archons, these idiot brothers caring too much and using it against your family-oriented soft spot.

“And you’ll leave Rosalie alone, right?”

“That’s our deal,” Aether says. “Though, I think Rosalie loves Paimon. You wouldn’t be able to get rid of us that easily.”

You separate ways after Paimon finishes her food. She politely and sweetly asks you to question Rosalie when she will make her next batch of dinner so they can come over. You tell her sure, but you hope not because Paimon, as cute as she is, would end up spilling a secret or two when her stomach is happy and satisfied.

Rosalie is probably waiting for you to get home. You hurry your steps.

Before you can reach the door, a tall, hooded figure swings it open and shoulders past you, not allowing you even a glimpse of the stranger’s face. When you turn, the figure has stopped and looked at you over their shoulder. You can't tell if you've made eye contact; the shadows dancing on their face make it too dark to discern their features.

Feeling uncomfortable, you turn back and shoulder the door open. You feel uneasy knowing that they had been inside Rosalie’s shop. Rosalie has a lot of lovesick admirers, ones that you didn’t hesitate presenting lousy customer service to to scare them away.

Rosalie is humming happily as you enter, moving pots of plants around to display by the window. She brightens when you wave at her. “Y/N! Just in time—would you mind helping me replace these with the newer batch?”

She doesn’t seem to be creeped out.

You can’t help but ask, “Was that a customer earlier?”

“Mhm,” Rosalie says absentmindedly, fixing the pot in a perfect angle that would show the blooming flowers to the streets. “Bought one of our imports from Snezhnaya—you know the ones that would have died in the next two weeks or so? Our rain is no match for Snezhnaya’s snow, but they were beautiful petals. I’m glad they could be of use, somehow.”

You hum, heaving up a heavy pot of Calla Lilies onto a vacant space. “They were.”

“I didn’t make her pay because I felt terrible knowing it wouldn’t last long, but she insisted!” Rosalie wipes sweat off her brow.

You gesture at the little Lumidouce Bell by the counter, growing taller by the day. “Are we not going to display that, too?”

“We’re displaying it there—it is not for sale,” Rosalie says. “We can’t let them think I’m selling it.”

“It’s just a flower.”

Rosalie wipes off the dirt from her fingers on her apron and pokes at your nose with her pinky. “Yes, but it’s your flower.”

You feel your face warm, flattered, and endlessly endeared. “Right.”

Rosalie smiles knowingly, rising from her knees. “Before I forget—check behind the counter, will you? A package of yours arrived today.”

“A package?” You don’t remember ordering anything. You don’t think you’ve ordered anything at all your entire life.

Everything you owned was either hand-me-downs (courtesy of the House’s previous members and now Rosalie’s collection of dresses) or little things here and there with the money you earned from working in the flower shop. They were all bought and chosen, with Rosalie doing so on your behalf, with your unwillingness to step outside when unnecessary.

“It’s tall,” Rosalie says conspiratorially, “twice the size of a guitar case! Are you practicing the double bass in secret?”

“No…?” You walk behind the counter and find the package beside the door. Rosalie wasn’t exaggerating—it’s taller than you. “Does it say who’s it from?”

“I tried looking, but it only has a cute little cat drawn on it,” Rosalie says, walking past you in a flurry of ruffled skirts.

You frown at it. A cat? You inspect the bottom of the package; sure enough, it has a little cat drawn on it, winking up at you. What the hell?

“The cat is wearing a top hat, did you see?” Rosalie asks loudly to overpower the running water.

Nevermind. You know exactly who sent you this package. The double bass in question is a spear, hence its height. It’s here already? Lyney sure works fast. To think that you never escaped the ever-generous donations of the House—even now, when you aren’t an orphan there.

You sigh. You just told him you didn’t want to owe anything.

Still, you tear open the carton. It rips in a clean line, unraveling itself. You gasp at the sight of the most beautiful spear you’ve ever laid your eyes on. It’s far from elegant, the tip resembling the sharpened spine of a dragon, as if a hunter’s trophy. The shaft, fading from blood red to black on its tip as scales, feels sleek to the touch when you run your fingers through it.

A piece of paper is taped onto it, folded in half, and has the words READ ME printed in bold ink. You cast a glance at Rosalie, who’s still out of sight, then swiftly read the contents of the letter.

Come with me to the banquet tomorrow morning, with an address attached.

Your first thought is to rip it to shreds. Your second one—which happens to be the louder one—is curious about the event. Why invite you? Is this a trap? Did he want to show you something?

A banquet… You catch a reflection of yourself on the shop’s window, seeing a muddy apron, a loose blouse, and pants that most probably belonged to a man before you got your hands on it. A banquet invitation by the famous Great Magician Lyney is like a challenge to your wealth and fame, but Lyney’s not like that. Curiosity ends up winning.

“Rosalie?” you call out.

She emerges from the door. Her dress, even for gardening—unlike yours—is gorgeous and grand and definitely meant for banquets. She unties her apron. “Yes, darling?”

And that’s how you ended up getting all dolled up. Having learned your lesson from last time, you asked Rosalie to loosen your corset. This gown is larger than your previous one, fluffing around your waist and pooling by your feet in a graceful heap of velvet fabric.

You can’t help but notice the wine-red shade of Rosalie’s lips matched the skirt of the gown.

“Can I borrow the lip color you use?” you ask quietly, feeling like you’re already asking too much from her.

You cast your gaze to the floor, too nervous to behold Rosalie’s expression. You didn’t get to see how she smiles fondly or how her eyes crinkle as you fidget on your feet. When she returns from fetching her box of cosmetics, she holds your chin and grins.

“Thanks, maman,” you try to say, with your mouth wide open and all as she paints your lips.

The brush pauses. Rosalie’s face softens. “Of course, Mon bébé. Always.”

As you enter the main hall, a man in a suit greets you with a tray of glasses in hand. He waits patiently and doesn’t leave until you reluctantly take one with a muttered thanks.

Where is Lyney?

You scan the place. The chandelier twinkles with diamonds, raining on everyone’s heads with a colorful reflection that illuminated their jewelry. Although Rosalie’s gowns were far more expensive than anything you’ve ever worn, it almost seems like it’s nothing compared to the over-the-top dresses and suits excuse of a wealth showcase.

They’re all talking and laughing with each other, sipping idly on their half-empty champagne. Feeling out of place, you tip the glass back and swallow quietly.

Its acidity makes you wince, but the taste bursts with a rich flavor. The last time you consumed anything alcoholic, it was your 18th birthday, and Rosalie slid over a glass of wine. The day ended in you throwing up on the sidewalk, but the memory is sweet. It has you going for one more sip.

The banquet-goers pay you no mind as you walk further inside. They chatter, eat, and tip their heads back to drink, but they don’t spare you even a glance. Perhaps they can smell the money off of you—which was none.

Meow, you hear by your feet.

“Oh!” you say, pleasantly surprised. You bend down to offer your hand out. “Hello, kitty. That’s a dashing hat you have there.”

The cat purrs and rubs itself on the back of your palm. Its dark fur is soft, a telltale sign of a well-groomed cat.

“Are you here with someone?” you ask politely, expecting no response, but the cat starts moving its paws and saunters off with a destination.

With nothing else to do, you obediently follow.

The cat strolls off. It brushes past leather shoes and ruffles and layers of skirts. It walks like it knows exactly where it’s going in the grand room. Maybe the little guy actually does. Its hat bounces as it trots, which reminds you of a particular lilac-eyed individual.

But you stopped following, eventually, because your eyes caught on— speak of the devil.

Lyney grins as cards fly across from one hand to another in a smooth movement. There aren't any stage props or spotlights flashing down on him, yet everyone watches with rapt gazes. That's always been his real talent: a magnet for attention by simply waving his hands. By batting his eyes, he's got everyone enamored.

For all his talk about keeping a fair distance with his admirers, you can’t blame any of them for believing Lyney’s comfort in their presence, his ease in the way they crowd him. He’s a splendid actor.

For some reason, this brings out an unpleasant feeling in your chest. It makes you want to reach out and show them what he’s truly like without a mask—but that doesn’t sound right to you, either. They don’t have to know what Lyney’s like when he wraps his arms around your personal space.

Maybe the alcohol is getting to you.

Before you can turn away, fingers clasp around your forearm and pull you against a body.

Lyney’s smiling wide, a jarring contrast to the fake one seconds ago. “You’re here!”

You get flustered, aware of his audience directing their attention to both of you. “I told you I didn’t like owing anyone anything.”

Lyney laughs melodically, kissing the back of your palm. Is he aware of all these eyes? He has to be—that’s his life’s work. Perhaps he doesn’t care. Perhaps he wants to show off as much as you do.

The air was thick the moment you entered the banquet, scents of all perfumes and roasted meats clashing and clinging to your nose, but suddenly it felt a lot more charged. Like you could faintly register the hair on your arms standing up in attention as you hold Lyney’s gaze.

“Forgive me; I missed you and had to come up with an excuse, somehow,” he says, winking up at you.

“We just saw each other two days ago,” you say.

When the tray of wine passes by once more, you eagerly draw out another glass. The faint buzz in the back of your head is not strong enough to drown out your stupid thoughts about Lyney, of all people.

The man of the hour—Lyney, because he always is—does the same. He murmurs, “You look breathtaking.”

“You should’ve warned me that the banquet would be ten times fancier than what I had in mind,” you say in return.

“And yet, even unprepared, no soul can take their eyes off you.”

You hope Lyney’s just saying that as a compliment, and it’s not what’s actually happening. You crane your neck and notice a whispering crowd as they stare at you. It wasn’t the whole truth. Even when pressed against Lyney, all eyes are on him. You face Lyney, suddenly conscious.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you, even once when his fingers reached out to fish out a champagne flute. Lyney still has that stupid smile on his face, the rim of his glass against his lips. You’re hit with the startling realization that you want to kiss him.

Fuck, what?

Your face burns, breath hitching in a way that has you choking on your drink. What the hell are you thinking? Are you out of your mind?

“I need another drink,” you say after downing your current one in half.

Lyney frowns, patting your back. His warmth sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. “I think what you need is water. How many glasses have you had already?”

You don’t want to be sober when you’re faced with Lyney. You don’t want to be sober when Lyney’s so close. “Not enough,” you say, because you don’t want to be sober right now.

The rest of the signs of intoxication start to settle as the laughter that rings somewhere from afar softens into an echo. The warm lights that showered the room seemed to glow when they rested on Lyney’s face. Though, you can’t quite tell if it’s intoxication or if it’s Lyney’s magic.

“What’s this banquet for?”

Lyney hums, taking one long sip. His lips press against the glass. “We’re celebrating father’s return.”

You think of The Knave instead, tall and intimidating when you stand across her, and wince. “She’s back?”

“Mhm,” Lyney says, his eyes tracing over your face, “has been for a while now, but the orphans decided to throw a little something for her. Can’t you tell? Half of the people in this room are Fatui.”

Oh.

You couldn’t tell, but you should’ve known. The Orphans were raised and trained to be masters of deception, blending seamlessly.

“But… why?” You’re starting to feel some weight on your tongue.

“We needed sponsors for a party this grand,” Lyney leans in to whisper, eyes gleaming, “and a party this grand would surely attract important people who know a lot.”

You want to ask why he’s telling you all of this freely, but you catch the flush dancing on his cheeks, and it faintly registers that Lyney must be a little drunk as well.

“Lyney, I—”

“Don't worry.” He’s still whispering. You have to draw closer to hear him. “I wouldn't have invited you if ‘Father’ personally came here. It’s just us, and no one will bother you if you’re with me.”

“Then why invite me here?”

Lyney smiles playfully, posture elegant with practice yet shoulders loose with the champagne. “I thought you would have been eager to learn more about the House’s current state.”

Was this a jab to his suspicions? Or was this him trying to reach out and employ a sense of nostalgia? You’re not drunk enough for this.

“Most of the ones we grew up with were sent off to other regions. But the one hosting—do you remember Cecilia?

You remember Cecilia. You have scars that remind you of Cecilia. “How has she been? Good, I hope? No grudges against me?”

“She never held any grudges,” Lyney laughs, and he tells you all about how they’ve all been since you left.

Without meaning to, you and Lyney end up recalling memories back in the House. And without thinking hard about it, you pluck another glass, then another, emboldened by the taste and fruits of alcohol—emboldened by how each sip has you feeling light. You don’t realize it, but you and Lyney end up pressed against each other, fondly remembering memories you thought you left behind. You could never run too far.

Maybe it’s your inhibitions dissipating along with the fizz of the champagne. Maybe it’s the atmosphere. Maybe it’s when Lyney’s tongue darted out to wet his lip, the words died in your mouth, and your head is heavy and very much feeling like it wants to be caught by Lyney. With his face.

“Hey,” Lyney says, his hand trailing across your jaw. As if he’s stopping you. “We’re pretty out of it right now. Don’t kiss me.”

You scowl. “Why? you hate me that much?”

Lyney’s eyes widen. “No. Don’t—don’t pout at me like that.” He covers your mouth. “That’s not fair.”

You haven’t even realized you were pouting. You wave his hand off and slump against him, curling against his comforting warmth. You like the view of the flush on Lyney’s neck crawling all the way up to his ears.

Lyney sighs, his back leaning against the wall as he holds you. You haven’t even noticed that you and Lyney were huddled together in a dark corner. “It would’ve been easier if we hated each other, huh?” He traces his thumb over your lip, looking forlorn. “I wouldn’t have hesitated to protect my status as a Fatuus the moment you came back out of thin air.”

You want to shut him up. “You’re talking too much. Just kiss me.”

“No,” Lyney says, but he doesn’t push you off of him either. “Let’s get you water.”

Ugh. The thought of water makes you sick. You resist the urge to vomit and nuzzle your nose on his collarbone, visibly relaxing when he steadies you with hands on both sides of your hips. This is better than water.

“Did you like my gift?” Lyney whispers to your ear.

You nod against his neck. “It was cool. I didn't know how to repay you, but now… now I regret coming here.”

“Why’s that?”

You run your fingers through his hair, messing up the braid on the side of his head. “Because I want to kiss you, and you’re being annoying. The nerve you have when you’re looking at me like that.”

Lyney slumps against the wall, defeated. “Don’t just say that, Y/N. You can’t go around saying that.”

“I’m not. Why else am I all over you instead of someone else?”

You watch in fascination as Lyney’s pupils dilate. Lyney’s skin feels so soft to the touch and inexplicably warm. Why is he denying you? Surely he feels it, too. Surely he wants it, too.

“Hey,” you whisper, and Lyney trembles. “What’s—what… What are you and Lynette up to? There has to be a reason you’re here, right? Tell me.”

Lyney frowns, pulling away to face you. “What?”

But then light rolls into view, stinging your eyes at the abrupt radiance. Someone has turned the lights on, possibly the culprit of this assault and rude interruption.

“Oh, shit,” a voice says.

Lyney stiffens, hands moving protectively around your torso, shielding you from the light that floods in when the door opens.

“M-Master Childe!” Lyney exclaims, looking torn between standing up and keeping you shielded, still. He has lipstick on his jaw; you want to point at it and laugh.

“Lord Tartaglia’s here?” you ask, stumbling over his name.

“Um,” Lord Tartaglia stands frozen by the doorway, “I’ll be leaving you two to it.”

ive never gotten drunk before so idk how off i am from the real deal, but i did consult my friend who has gotten drunk so hopefully i was at least not too inaccurate LMFAOO

NO WAY NEW CHAPTER. and theyre being stupid. now ay..... TYSM FOR READIN!!!!!! and sorry if this took a while i was being stupid too and decided to rewrite a big chunk last minute. LMK WHAT U THINK

TAGLIST.

@thenyxsky @aeferkssr @1mewo1 @lacrimae-lotos @meigalaxy @hyacinth-daze @miwafei @popochakku @svasilios @heyhazelnut101 @kruinka @waveto-earth @superstar-ethereal @mxplesyrvp @achilleas-dream @episodecete @jellifizz @auranny @motherscrustytoenailclippings @lovelyevil @iawaaaaaaa @rionah @esmetrees @cherryig @kzhwaif @mystiquemare @unknownlololol @sanluvssu @blvdmrcnry @kascar-chronicle @idontevenknow129 @tarathecogsci @lunavixia @beaniedoodz @wendolrea @avalordream @egoistars @rains-mae @magnificentfireball @poemzcheng @fiannee @ask-kurayami-akura @sc4rlett-letter @xxxion

#606: THAWED #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n

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corruptedcaps · 28 days

Text

The Corrupted Daughter

Finally after long last here is the follow up to this year's MARCH MADNESS winner The Corrupted Queen. Enjoy!

---

Abigail strode loudly through her vast facility and ignored the various bowing her lowly employees were giving her. She usually loved basking in their sycophantic behaviour but right now she was majorly pissed off.

Slamming the door of her cavernous office shut, she approached her large ornate mirror and took a moment to look at her perfect reflection. It had been nearly 20 years since the various corrupted objects that now adorned her body had escaped from their cages and transformed her from a nobody scientist into the formidable queen bitch she was now. Despite the passage of time, the evil that powered her allowed her to remain unchanged, a vision of leather, latex and lethal power.

“Mirror where is Lilith, where is my daughter?” Abigail finally said having reminisced enough. Her reflection began to swirl and turn black. Over the years she had acquired many new artifacts that she absorbed in some way shape or form but some objects like the mirror could not be assimilated for obvious reason. However, that didn’t mean they were of no use to her.

An image began to reveal itself in the mirror, blurry at first and growing steadily sharper until she recognized it as the facility she was in. It showed the black windowless building from the outside with the name “QA” in giant white letters along the side. Of course most people assumed it was a company called Quality Assurance, but everyone who worked for her knew it meant Queen Abigail.

“This is it? Nothing more specific? I should have the metal department melt you down.” Abigail said disdainfully.

“I’m sorry my Queen but as you know your daughter is immune to-” The mirror began to speak but Abigail quickly cut it off.

“You don’t need to remind me.” Abigail said with a tone that told the mirror not to say another word. Abigail sighed annoyedly as she walked to her desk.

Each day her daughter was testing her patience. Abigail had once hoped that Lilith would one day stand side by side with her and rule together as a powerful combination but that idea was dashed when she tried to give her her first corrupted item at the age of thirteen.

Lilith had embraced being a spoilt brat for the first twelve years of her life in a way that made Abigail immensely proud. Lilith herself was looking forward to getting her first of what she assumed would be many corrupted items.

“Mommy what will this allow me to do?” Lilith said as she eagerly took the corrupted necklace from her mother.

“You’ll be able to make any boy your age your puppet. It’s just a small taste of the power you’ll-” Abigail had said but was cut short by a her daughter screaming. The necklace was heating up fast and Abigail barely got it off Lilith before it exploded.

At first Abigail thought it was sabotage and she had many members of her team tortured to find the truth but when she gifted a new item to Lilith and the same thing happened it was clear something else was at play.

In a cruel twist of irony for the Queen of Corruption, her daughter was immune to very same evil magic that fuelled Abigail’s rise to power. Abigail tried to console her daughter but as the weeks and months followed, Lilith grew bitter and resentful of all corruption. Before long it morphed into hatred directed at her mother.

The following years Lilith grew further from Abigail, rejecting her bratty life she had once loved. She became a kinder more gentler person. She started slowly destroying the many corrupted artifacts stored in the building. She soon went by ‘Lily’, feeling ‘Lilith’ was too evil sounding.

By the age of fifteen she had fled her home and found solace in the underground rebels that fought Abigail. With Lily on their side it became even easier to destroy the corrupted objects that Abigail sought.

Now nearly five years later, Lily was the leader of the rebels and had just destroyed the biggest shipment in the history of Abigail’s company. Abigail’s pressed her fingers next to her temples, her headache growing. She looked at the lockers that adorned her wall, filled with items of corruption she had collected over the years. At least she still had those.

Just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse the doors to her office burst and in strolled her daughter and a small contingent of her army. Abigail looked nonplussed however.

“Hello darling, having a sleepover with some friends are you?” Abigail said sarcastically as she rose lazily from her seat.

“Your tyranny ends today mother!” Lily said confidently. Abigail looked at her daughter with sadness, so much wasted potential.

“Oh does it? Well you might find that a little hard to accomplish when you’re fighting your own men.” Abigail said with a smirk and a flick of her wrist causing one of her many lockers to open. A simple pair of earrings sat inside but with the door now open and Abigail's command, the earrings flew through the air towards Lucy’s lieutenant. They would corrupt him into a formidable bitch under Abigail’s control.

However the man stood steadfast and as the earrings rocketed towards him. A the last second he suddenly produced a small box from behind himself and held it out in front. The earrings flew straight in and he closed the box shut. Abigail was shocked but didn’t let her smirking superiority wane.

“Clever girl aren’t we? Your little capture boxes are cute but my security will be by any second with an overwhelming amount of-” Abigail began.

“Corruption? I don’t think so.” Lucy said with a knowingly smile as she and her men parted, revealing a large stack of boxes behind them. Most were vibrating with the dark corruption inside but all were locked away safely. Abigail look worried for the first time in two decades.

“It’s over, I’m here to free everyone from this wicked evil, including you mom!” Lily said determinedly but Abigail wasn’t about to give up so easily.

With furious rage she started to command all the lockers to open and the various objects flew out towards the formidable army in front of her. Lily's men were too fast however, easily capturing opbject after object, while advancing towards Abigail.

In desperation, Abigail started to remove items from her own body and hurl them at the men. Bracelets, rings, boots, gloves, everything she could send at them she did, even as she felt her power wane by doing so. She knew if she could get just one of them she’d gain the upper hand but Lily had trained them well, they captured item after item with precision as they advanced on her.

Before long she was one the ground, all that was remaining were her notorious corrupted black pigtails. Lily’s men held Abigail down. Lily approached with a box in hand and quickly scooped the tendrils into it. Lily and her men watched as Abigail’s body convulsed and reverted back to her plain form of Abby. Still as young as the day she was corrupted but now lacking any power.

“Lily?…” Abby said groggily.

“That’s right mom, you just rest for now. My men will take care of you and I’ll get started on destroying these.” Lily said compassionately to her weak mother.

Lily stepped over towards the pile of boxes and looked at them dauntingly. There was a lot to get through but it would be all worth it. Opening the box in her hand she grasped the hair. Its strands weaved violently in her hand but Lily knew within a few seconds it would be nothing more than dust.

However when after a few seconds this didn’t happen, Lily instead started to hear a voice in her head.

“Lillllllly. Beautiful and pure Lily. Don’t you remember how good it was to be a spoilt brat? You were being moulded into being a corrupted princess and you loved it. Even now as a rebel you couldn't resist amassing an army of loyal followers. You’ve enjoyed the power haven’t you? Put us out Lily. You were to be a princess but let us make you a queen.” The voice purred.

What no one had expected was that Lily’s power to destroy the evil artifacts was dependent on her mother’s connection to the corruption. With her mother being purged of the evil, Lily’s power was suddenly gone, along with her immunity to being corrupted.

Lily’s breathing grew deeper as the voice of temptation started to overwhelm her. She could feel the hair pulsating in her hand, desperately needing to be set free. It's desire was infectious and Lily found herself starting to stroke the hair lovingly, almost in a trance.

“Wear uuuuuussssss Quuuuuueeeeennnnn Lillllllllttttttthhhhhh.” The voice hissed from the hair that only Lily could hear. Images danced in her head of being wicked and bad, of being all powerful and beautiful. Memories of her youth, of being a bratty bitch were flooding back into her mind making a wicked smile curl up on her lips as her panties became wet.

“Yesssss, it's what I deserve!” Lily purred as the temptation grew too much and she lifted the wig to her head. Letting go of it, she groaned as it snaked its way over her head and buried deep into her scalp.

Throwing her head back she groaned in ecstasy as the wig that was once her mother’s filled her mind with evil and depraved thoughts. A long since buried part of her mind was unlocked.

“Mmmm fuck yesssss! Make me into the wicked hawt slut I was destined to be! All of you!” She yelled as she began picking up box after box, letting the corrupted items out. Each item attacked her body with ferocity, even as it began to change rapidly.

Her breasts heaved and broke out from her small bra but were quickly captured by a tight latex dress. Long talon like nails grew from her fingertips as black latex gloves covered them like a sheath.

“I was denied my birth right for so long! Now I can become the bad bitch I was always meant to be! That I always wanted to be!" She groaned as she used her new power to open the boxes even faster. By the time her men realised what was happening, it was too late. They turned to see their leader had transformed into a wicked reflection of her former self.

“Lily! You must resist-” One of them cried out before Lilith rolled her eyes and commanded a corrupted item, a pair of pink stripper heels, to attack him. They wrapped tightly and quickly around his feet. The corruption slithered up his legs transforming him. Within seconds he had changed into a beautiful babe with big tits and blonde hair. Any conflict in his face melted away into an evil smile.

“Alan? No dude you have to fight it!” One of the other men implored to the new beauty.

“It’s Amber now worm, and why would I fight perfection. Don’t worry Queen Lilith will make you see our way.” The new bitch purred as a pair of earrings flew onto one of the other men. Amber giggled as she watched the man spasm as his body became feminine and beautiful.

Without the boxes to protect them, the men fell one by one to the wicked corruption of Lilith who felt her power increase with each new man she transformed. She could hear their voices in her head and she had full control over them. It was a little overwhelming at first but became more pleasurable as the seconds ticked on.

Abby however used her daughter's distracted mind to quickly slip out of the room unnoticed. Abby had been on the other end of this situation before and knew that Lilith would soon be unsatisfied with her power and would demand more and no one knew more than Abby.

With one last lingering look at her corrupted daughter, Abby vowed to save her family. Meanwhile outside in the dark night, the 'A' on the ominous building changed to an 'L'.

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #corrupted clothing #evil bitch #power transfer #m2f #corrupted shoes #corrupted hair #corrupted wig

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lazyjellyfish300 · 2 months

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Dad's "Best" Friend Peter B. comes to Dinner🍝🍷

DBF!Peter B. Parker x Fem shy less experienced!Reader

Synopsis: Your dad's new friend from work comes over for dinner and he's a lot cuter than you were expecting. 💋 Word count 5.8k

A/N: Giving my man Miguel a damn break for once LMAO. Jk, it won't be for long, I just have like 6 wips with him at the moment and can't decide which one to work on. 😩 Then I had a dream about Peter B. and so now let me get this out of my system. I was gonna let us f*ck but then I got to 5k words so part 2?! Lmk.

TW: MINORS DNI, LEGAL AGE GAP: PETER B. IS 38, READER IS IN LATE TWENTIES, SMUT (69, ORAL SEX F AND M RECEIVING, READER HASN'T HAD AN ORGASM BEFORE/LESS EXPERIENCED, FINGERING, HANDJOB, ORGASM) IMPLIED DIFFICULT RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR DAD, READER IS SHY WITH SOCIAL ANXIETY

------

"Dad...."

"You're not burning the meat, are you?"

"It's literally the same spaghetti sauce I always make! Out."

Your dad shoves a spoon into the pan of bubbling red tomato sauce and steals a taste, huffing frantically like a dragon at the hot temperature.

"It's not ready yet! Jesus..."

You shoo your dad out of the kitchen for the umpteenth time with a roll of your eyes. Normally, you couldn't give two shits about making dinner, particularly when your dad almost always found something to complain about whenever you cooked, leading you to take a semi-permanent hiatus.

However, you found out he was inviting his new friend from work, and you quickly realized you'd rather die than subject an innocent stranger to the atrocity that was your dad's cooking skills.

Instead you let him handle dessert, easily solved with a frozen ice cream cake from the store. You looked at the clock nervously that was creeping up on 7 pm. The guest would be due to arrive at any time.

You didn't worry about dressing up too much since you were running around all evening, wearing one of your college crew neck sweaters and favorite leggings. At least you cared to match your fuzzy socks this time with your hair just the way you liked to wear it and a freshly done face with the level of makeup you'd flaunt for special occasions.

At the sound of a small knock from the door, your dad grumbles, saying he'll answer it and he shuffles towards it with a burnt tongue. You resume anxiously tending to the sauce, mentally preparing yourself to socially mask for the next two hours.

You hear a man's voice. It's mellow and humble, turning down your dad's overbearing insistence on waiting on him hand and foot, meekly asserting he can hang his own suit jacket and graciously thanking him for inviting him over.

At the sound of their approaching footsteps in the kitchen, you turn, offering your most gorgeous smile to the new stranger, your dad's new so-called "best friend" (a title easily acquired by anyone who let him mindlessly yap about world governments for longer than five minutes), and extend your hand to him.

You feel your pupils dilate when you're greeted with a firm yet soft grip that contains almost a fraction of the warmth as the silken chestnut brown of his eyes.

He looks younger than your dad, somewhere in his late thirties. He's tall, about 6'2 with a lean muscular build that's highlighted in the way his white button down shirt hugs his arms, the bottom of which is tucked into gray slacks that sit on his narrow waist. He wears a pleasant smile with dazzling teeth.

His tone of voice is soothing, almost innocent with an edge of allure in the way he said certain phrases that you can't quite put your finger on, kind of like how he said...

"You must be my friend's daughter. He didn't mention how lovely you are..." Making your cheeks nearly hotter than the spaghetti you prepared.

"Ah, well, she gets it from her old man!" Your dad cuts in. You can't help but sigh and turn your attention back to the food, not knowing that Peter's eyes wouldn't leave you the rest of the evening.

At dinner, you politely dish up both men a healthy serving of buttery spaghetti and the rich, homemade sauce. A medley of sweet tomatoes and fresh garlic fills your belly as you all silently eat. The gentle sounds of your metal forks tapping against the porcelain of your plates and the hollow sound of wine being sipped from a glass.

Your dad blabs and practically monopolizes the majority of the dinner conversation. You tune in only to the part where he introduces Peter B. a little further, a small smile playing on your lips as you nod and listen intently as he tells his story.

He's Peter Benjamin Parker, a 38 year-old divorcee with a nearly four year old daughter who works in finance alongside your dad.

They bonded over similar interests and your dad loudly cuts in and says since Peter was one of the only people at work who truly recognized his potential for what it was, he'd told him he'd repay him one of these days with a homemade dinner and glass of wine at his place, to which he simply couldn't say no.

Your dad goes to butt in and steer the conversation back to his isolated ramblings but Peter politely cuts him off,

"I'd like to hear more about you," he says with a smile. The twinkle in his eye throws off your train of thought as you struggle to form an answer with some semblance of clarity.

You tell him you're in your late twenties, trying to balance college and work while living with your dad in hopes of getting your own place when you graduate. He nods solemnly and seriously as you describe your dreams and ambitions for the future, occasionally validating you with a gentle hum or a "go on," with the ghost of a smile on his lips as he listens intently, none of the other topics of the evening seized his attention quite so strongly as you are now.

Your dad seems to accept defeat at his failure to reclaim the conversation and shifts all his attention to the food in front of him, stuffing his face as you converse with Peter. You find your cheeks start to hurt towards the end of dinner from all the smiles he's drawing out of you with his questions and his silly quips that you can't help but beam at, even if they would sound atrocious coming from anyone else.

Somehow, this new friend of your dad's fell out of the handsome tree and managed to knock every single branch on his way down of things you found yourself wildly attracted to, the wine in your glass pushing you closer to him by the time dinner ended.

At your dad's suggestion, you played a few rounds of a card game called Thirty-One, the smirk on Peter's face widening even more in silent admiration as you won hand after hand. A smile breaking across your lips when Peter let out an exasperated laugh at your knocking for a close 30 right after he just got done dealing. He touched your hand, his soft fingertips lingering on your knuckles as he joked with your dad that you had to have sabotaged the deck when he wasn't looking as your dad threw his cards on the table with a shake of his head and a loud yawn at his pitiful 15 and Peter's sad 23.

You watched Peter as he skillfully shuffled and stacked the cards away into a neat pile. Those long, gentle fingers of his expertly bending and handling the cards, making them all fall perfectly in a flawless cascade against his palms, your heart nearly coming to a dead stop in your chest when you feel the top of his knee momentarily press against yours underneath the table.

Soon after dessert and one or two more red wine glasses, your dad is waddling towards his room down the hall scratching his back, teasing you two not to stay up too late and telling Peter he's welcome to whatever leftovers he wants in the fridge and the guest bedroom next to his in case he's unable to drive. You nod and mutter goodnight, the air flooded with awkward tension as his door clicks softly behind him.

You shyly stand up, and tell Peter you should probably do the dishes, to which Peter offers to help. You shake your head but he doesn't take no for an answer, the dimple in his smile growing as he rolls up his sleeves over his forearms, striding towards the kitchen before you can utter one more word in protest. Soon, you're rinsing the dishes as he scrubs, he'll pause every so often and turn down the volume of the water coming from the sink so he can hear you a little better, modest whiffs of his cologne coming from his neck that make you a little weak in the knees as he seems to get closer and closer to you on your side of the sink, an entire colony of butterflies soaring in your tummy every time his hand brushes against yours as he hands you a new dish.

You humbly suggest a movie afterwards before you call it a night as you take turns drying your hands on the dish rag. He smiles and follows you to the couch, sitting next to you. You feel your face heat up and you try to find something to watch, making a busy, quiet clicking noise with your teeth to fill the gaps of silence between you two.

You know you're not at the point that you can just turn on one of your cheesy chick flicks with him, so, you randomly suggest a scary movie, knowing damn well that you're a huge chicken when it came to watching them.

The corner of Peter's mouth twitches a little. Scary movies, the oldest trick in the book. Neither of you were born yesterday. A guy and a girl with obvious tension between the two of them, sitting late at night on a couch all alone, with a scary movie playing that would inevitably make the space between them very, very thin. You know it, and he knows it, but he nods his head.

"You sure you wanna watch a scary one?"

You shrug innocently, and respond in an overly optimistic manner. "Yeah, I mean, they're not too bad. I might need to close my eyes for certain parts but I can handle it."

Peter smirks. "Okay...if you say so."

You select the movie, and as the screen loads, Peter says to you in a lower tone, "You know, at any point in time, you can pause it and put on something else."

You shake your head. "Nahhh. I'll be fine," shooting him an overconfident smile.

A few jump scares in, the blanket on your lap is tickling the bottom of your nose as you hold it to your face, occasionally bringing it up over your forehead with a few small whimpers.

Peter's doing his best to play it cool as well, but he finds himself also jumping at some of the more intense scenes, mostly because of how reactive you are, your elbow occasionally bumping his, making him shudder in alarm at parts that weren't even that scary, your nervous energy feeding onto him.

At one point, it's obvious that another big scare is coming up as the main character starts to walk down a dark hall, the unsettling hum of the chilling music blasting from the speakers, both of you holding your breath.

You look to your left and Peter looks to his right, your faces meeting in the middle. You both giggle as you look at each other, neither of you brave enough to turn your attention back to the screen.

"What's happening?" you whisper playfully to him.

He chuckles and whispers back, "I don't know."

"Just look and tell me if that one scary guy is about to come on."

Peter smiles and shakes his head, "No, you do it."

"Peter! For fuck's sake, pleaseee..." you hiss giving him a playful nudge with your elbow.

Peter sighs and slowly turns back towards the screen, then he pauses the movie. Your head is still turned to him, your cheek pressed against the back of the couch in an effort to hide your gaze from whatever spooky image is on screen.

"You can look, there's nothing there, I paused it." Peter whispers.

You turn, and bam, the demon's face is frozen perfectly in a menacing look, taking up the entire frame. You let out a little scream and immediately clap your hands to your mouth as Peter cracks up. You reach out and smack him, both of your hands alternating as Peter playfully tries to weakly defend himself with his own.

"You...bastard! I'm gonna kill you Peter!" You say through clenched teeth, throwing a spare pillow into his chest.

Peter catches one of your hands and the smile fades from both of your faces as you feel your hands fully touch for the first time. His palm gently smooths over yours, interlacing his fingers.

You feel your stomach flutter, and his does the same. He pulls you a little closer and he smirks down at you when you fall against his chest.

"Hi...", he whispers, his eyes getting lost in yours.

"Hey..." you answer softly. You're about to dive headfirst into those sweet brown eyes when you realize:

Shit-your dad.

Your heart hammers in your chest a little as you turn your head quickly to the side, sitting up and peering over the couch to see any signs of activity coming from his bedroom down the hall.

"Shit...he might have woken up." You murmur.

"Nah...I don't hear anything." Peter cranes his neck as well, his chin lightly brushing the top of your head as he pulls you even closer so his arm is around you on the back of the couch.

"I could've sworn I heard something," you murmur. Your heart rate has sped up tremendously, you can feel him right there, on the side of your face. If you turn and look at him, it's over.

Peter smiles softly, his eyes on you while you're still focused on the back of the hall. The top of his pointer finger gently grazes the outline of your jaw, pausing just on the corner of your chin. He presses it a little harder, gently guiding your gaze to look at him.

You feel your cheeks utterly burn as you face him fully, hyper aware of the minimal distance between your noses. Your breath catches in your throat as you see his eyelids droop, and then eventually close as he leans in to kiss you.

You wet your lips, leaning in as well, then finally meet his in a soft, delicate first kiss. Peter gently draws in air through his nose, releasing the breath in the form of a soft moan into your mouth as he moves his lips again, this time perfectly sandwiching them between his. Your lashes flutter at the tantalizing sensation as you allow your lips to dance with his, your stomach practically flying away when you feel his free hand gently press against the side of your neck.

He scoops you in closer with his arm that was laying on the back of the sofa, then bringing it to cup your face also. He holds your face tenderly in his hands, smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks as he makes out with you on the sofa, his tongue gently gliding over your lips, coating them in the wet warmness of his mouth.

The sweetness of the tomatoes, and the dark red wine laced on his tongue bring you even closer, the heat between your bodies almost becoming too much for your respective places from where you sit, begging to be transferred onto the other's skin.

Peter pulls you into his lap and you take it a step further, straddling him with one leg on either side of his lap, your hands tangling themselves in his sandy brown hair, weaving between those light grey streaks with a soft, high pitched moan.

"Fuck..." Peter groans at your noises. He gently turns your head to the side for better access and his lips start attacking your neck. Soft and messy, he blazes a trail of wetness all along your collarbone, his fingers gently tugging at the neckline of your sweater. You indulge him and slip it off, leaving him breathless as you sit there straddling his lap in your bra. "Look at you..."

You bite your lip with a smile and lean back, freeing your breasts, allowing the soft globes to spill out from over the top of the cups.

Peter lets out a breathy moan at the sight, "Beautiful...mmm..." and leans forward, eagerly locking his lips around your left breast, while gently rolling the nipple of your right. You moan and slowly tilt your head back, your breaths shaky as you let Peter enjoy your body, feeling the soft, wet pad of his tongue swiftly swirl around your nipple, leaving the bud nice and perky as his lips suck and release it with a tiny plop. The chilly air around it makes goosebumps appear all across your chest, and Peter switches sides, taking your right breast in his mouth. He lets his tongue trace circle after circle around the delicate areola, moaning at the taste of your skin, making you suck in air between your teeth as he hollows his cheeks, beginning to lightly suck your breast as though he were trying to make you cum from the motion alone.

Your breaths are growing higher and higher in pitch. Your brow furrows as your mind is ripped between two directions of trying to relax and focus on all the pleasure he's giving you while controlling the volume of your moans.

Your lips fall open as you feel Peter gently start rolling his hips underneath you, the fabric of his pants straining against his raging erection. You start humping your pussy against him, and he closes his eyes, letting out a deep sigh as he moans your name.

"Yeah, Peter....?" you answer breathlessly as you gently roll your hips in a circle.

Peter can barely speak at this point, his mouth wide open as he leans back, his hands rubbing your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze before they snake behind your back, unclasping your bra.

"Shit..." He breaths out as he sets your breasts free with a little bounce and your entire upper torso is now exposed to him. He tosses your bra onto the couch next to him, biting his lip as his hands run and caress all over every square inch of your body. "How're you so perfect...come closer, beautiful..."

You gasp a little as you feel his hand grab you around the back of your neck, forcing your lips a little more intensely against his this time. You moan, sucking and biting his lip, not minding the bit of stubble from his face pricking your cheeks, allowing your soft giggles to escape into his mouth.

"Mmm....what's so funny, cutie?" Peter smirks his lips against yours, one of his hands tugging at your leggings. Your breathing speeds up, a sharp, high pitched moan leaving your lips when you feel his hand cup your clothed pussy.

Peter smiles devilishly, biting his lip as well as he holds you in his hand, his hand gently pulsing and applying more pressure against your throbbing cunt. "This feels good?"

"Peter..."

"What, baby?" He teases, cocking his head a little at you, the heel of his palm pressing against your clothed clit.

"I need you...fuck, I need you.." you whine.

"Need me how, baby?" He whispers, this time pressing a wet, loving kiss to your lips. "Hmmm, baby... tell me?"

"I...w-want you to fuck me..."

Peter gives a low groan, continuing to fondle your pussy outside of your clothes, driving you mad.

"Yeah, pretty girl...?"

"Yes Peter....please baby...?"

Peter lets out a little chuckle and presses a soft kiss to your lips. "I will, sweetheart...just be patient for me." He shifts underneath you, pulling you off his lap. You catch your breath, panting as you watch him pull up a couch pillow and prop it behind you.

Peter catches the back of your head with his hand, leaning in to press another kiss to your lips as he gently lays you backwards, your hair spread out on the pillow, groaning at the sight of the beautiful half naked goddess laid out for him.

"You're absolutely perfect..."

You bite your lip and reach up, one of your fingers teasing the buttons of his shirt. "Your turn to show me..."

His cheeks burn pink but he flashes you a little smile as he unbuttons it completely and lets the flaps fall away from his body, giving you a delicious view of his chest and stomach, the dark brown hair decorating his pecks and the lean muscle underneath, from the slightest pudge of his belly at the bottom, making your mouth water. His shoulder muscles ripple faintly as he removes his shirt altogether and sets it to the side, returning to running his hands up and down your thighs.

Those big beautiful brown eyes stay locked with yours as he presses a kiss to your sternum. You giggle and tangle a hand in his hair as he moves down your tummy, the low tones of his voice vibrating against your body, and traveling straight to your pussy.

He kisses your stomach one more time and gently hooks his fingers underneath your panties and leggings. You lift your hips for him in silent obedience, your lips falling open as you watch his face utterly burn with lust as he pulls them off of you.

Peter lets out a low groan, licking his lips as he lets his eyes roam all over your naked body. Those brown eyes find yours again, taking note of your labored breaths. He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, his thumb smoothing along the shape of your bottom lip. "You doing okay, beautiful?" He asks in a low tone, slightly rubbing his nose against yours.

You nod slowly, your face burning. "It's just, Peter I-"

"Yes, sweetheart?" His eyes search you with concern, the gray five o'clock shadow of his face highlighted in the soft yellow glow coming from the lone reading lamp on the other side of the room by the TV. He's unbelievably handsome, this caring man who was only a stranger hours ago, looking at you as though his gaze alone could somehow convey the degree of worship he felt you deserved, somehow managing to show greater care and tenderness to your body than any other man you dealt with before. You'd let him do this every day if it meant you'd never get used to this intoxicating feeling.

"I've never um..."

"Mhmm?"

"I've never had a..."

"You're a virgin?" He asks softly, stroking your cheek.

"No I mean, I've just never finished before..."

"You haven't had an orgasm before...?" he asks you quietly. You nod in shy affirmation, a new heat wave making itself apparent underneath your cheeks.

Peter nods in quiet understanding, the backs of his knuckles stroking your face in silent reassurance. He leans in, kissing you once more. You hum into the kiss, and you feel his soft tongue prodding the tip of your lips again. You feel another shot of arousal wet itself between your thighs as his tongue pushes into your mouth, bringing the kiss to that deep state of passion from before. You start making out with him again, the grip on his hair tightening as you feel him gently lower his body weight onto you.

He eventually pulls away, leaving a fresh trail of kisses down your neck, pausing once more to suckle on your perky tits, leaving your nipples hard and pointy in his wake. He worships your tummy, licking a stripe down the plush middle, pausing at the top of your sex where he draws a circle with his tongue, causing you to buck your hips.

"I could be your first..." He murmurs, inhaling deeply, his fingers curling around your hips as he looks up at you with his deep brown eyes. "I'll make you cum tonight..."

You let out a soft whine, stroking his cheek and he leans affectionately into your touch. "Peter..."

"Do you want that baby...hmmm?" He comes up closer to your face, caging your body underneath him as he looks lovingly down into your eyes. "Tell me you want it sweetheart, and I'll do that for you tonight."

He purrs, leaning down to pepper more messy kisses to your neck, leading you to whimper. "I want it...I want you, Peter..."

"Want me to what, pretty girl?" He murmurs from your neck. "I need to be sure you're okay with it, darling. Tell me what you want me to do to you tonight..."

"Make me cum..."

Peter's face gets hot. He brings his face from your neck, looking at you as he starts to slide down your body towards your pussy. "Okay, sweetheart...you got it."

He gives you another devilish smile as he locks his arms around your thighs, "It's okay, baby..." He presses a kiss to your clit, making you shudder with anticipation. "We don't wanna wake up your dad, remember?"

You nod, your fingers coming down to tangle themselves in his mop of sandy brown hair once again. "Peter..."

"I've got you, baby...I'll go nice and slow..."

Your back arches and your pretty lips fall open when you feel Peter's thick tongue massage the folds of your pussy. You feel him let out a low groan, his soft murmurs being swallowed up by the plushness of your thighs around his head.

He humps his aching cock against the sofa as he continues to eat your pussy, his tongue gliding up and down your lips for several more moments before he dips inside, exploring the velvet of your walls as he lets his tongue indulge, steadily fucking you, working his tongue in a steady rhythm as he prods it in and out of your weeping cunt. Your hands come to play with your tits for more stimulation, one of his hands coming up to join yours as he rolls your tender nipple between his fingers.

Never in your life did you think sex could feel this fucking good, the way he's so gloriously eating you out, not caring and groaning at the very sight of you, swallowing every drop of your pussy like it's water and he's a parched man in the desert, plunging his face into that sweet oasis between your thighs. You whimper and move your hips up and down in tandem with his tongue. He greedily digs his nails into the backs of your thighs and ass, shoving your pussy against his face as he buries himself nose deep.

"Mmm.... you're driving me crazy, sweetheart...might have to eat you all night."

Peter pulls away, he can feel himself about to cum in his pants. He lays back on the couch and takes you by the hand, guiding your dripping pussy over his equally glistening face, brown eyes blown wide with lust as he pulls you closer.

You bite your lip at the sexy sight of your arousal smeared all over his gorgeous face, lowering yourself onto him slowly, moaning when you feel his tongue moving inside you again, his hands seizing your hips, slamming you down onto his nose.

"That's better..." Peter groans and continues dining on your pussy, his hips humping the air, his fingers becoming more gentle as they press into your hips, rocking you on his tongue. Your mouth waters at the outline of his cock and you reach forward, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants, taking his hard cock out from his boxers, your eyes fluttering at its generous length and slightly pink tip, brimming with precum.

Peter chuckles from underneath you, "Mmmm, haha....baby, what are you-ah!"

He groans and lets his head flop back onto the pillow with his eyes shut when he feels you take him in your mouth, the slick inside of your cheeks caressing the length of his cock as you take him as deep as you can. He holds his breath, only releasing a long groan of pleasure as you begin bobbing your head, softly using your mouth as a fleshlight as you passionately suck him off.

"Baby....ah, baby....fuck..."

He groans loudly.

"Shh..." you coo sweetly, pressing sloppy kisses onto his sensitive tip. "Don't wanna wake him up, remember."

"Mmmnnhhh....." Peter groans loudly again, thrusting his cock a little deeper in your mouth. "Baby...you're perfect." He bites his lip, letting himself ride the wave of pleasure you're sending all throughout his body for another lengthy moment before he starts softly licking, then pushing his tongue back inside the soft plush of your pussy.

The room is a quiet, sloppy mess with gentle moans and playful shushes bouncing off the walls as you pleasure each other in the 69 position. This is by far the filthiest thing you've ever done. Fucking this sweet man who was older than you but treated you and ate you like a goddess. This tall, lean rugged man with a kind voice and big brown eyes. Your dad's friend, a stranger, letting the beautiful daughter of his new friend suck his cock in his living room while the house was asleep.

You clench your teeth, pausing from sucking Peter's cock as you feel yourself inching towards an unfamiliar, tingly feeling building on itself deep in your body.

The feeling is better than just good. It's surpassed good at this point. It's absolutely euphoric. The way this man is making you ride his face and wiggling his tongue against every spot inside of you that sets your core on fire.

"I'm gonna cum, Peter..."

A switch goes off in his brain and you feel him amp up the flicker of his tongue, this time directly over your tender clit, you clench and seize involuntarily but to no avail as his arms lock you over his face.

"Peter...Peter please..." You moans turn to pathetic to pleas but they fall on deaf ears. Peter continues drowning in your pussy, his wet tongue pressed against your clit, pressing and pulsing, prodding you closer to the edge you've never met, that sweet peak of ecstasy you've only heard and read about.

"Cum for me beautiful...all over my face..."

The blissful end Peter is bringing lovingly, rapidly to your whole body, a smug smile on his face as he watches your desperate reaction, fighting against every natural urge in your body to scream as you come undone. Peter closes his eyes with a loud groan as you cum all over his face, littering tiny kisses all over your thighs as he sucks each droplet onto his tongue.

---

Peter's cleaning himself up with a spare towel you fetched from the hall closet, not minding the simmering ache in his cock with all his bottled up cum, giving you that rugged, dimpled smile as you plant a soft kiss on his cheek in affectionate gratitude, his button down shirt now hanging off your body in a simple display of aftercare.

It would have to do for now. Had this little encounter occured at his place, he'd already have you in a warm bath, only to likely give in to his quieted inhibitions before he fucked you once more, your breathy squeals reverberating against his bathroom tile.

A soft thump from down the hall sends you both reeling, you become a basketball star on the spot as you aim and hurtle the cum rag through the air, launching it into your open bedroom door and onto your darkened bed, yanking the large blanket over both of you on the couch, gulping when you hear your dad's muffled footsteps getting increasingly louder, then tapering off as they disappear inside the bathroom with a noisy grunt.

Peter's hand finds yours underneath the blanket. The sheer comfort of his soft palm sending waves of warmth up your arm and across your chest. Peter looks over the edge of the couch to find your dad disappearing inside his room with a quiet latch of his door, pulling you against his chest once more, weaving little kisses into your hair.

"That was a close one..." you murmur, nuzzling a little closer against his bare chest.

He chuckles quietly. "Can't let him know I'm completely crazy about his pretty daughter..."

You giggle and bring his fingers to your lips, a quiet spark in his chest that threatens to fan into an uncontrolled burn once again as you softly kiss his fingertips, his lips gently parting as he purrs contentedly under your touch.

"You never fucked me like you said you would."

Peter smiles, biting his lip as he teases one of his fingers into your mouth. "I didn't, did I..."

You hum, swirling your tongue around his finger just like you were doing to his cock. Peter groans at the erotic memory.

"How about I take you on a real date first..."

"Really?" You smile, which he can't help but blush too at your excitement.

"Yes, really. As much as I'd like to go to your room and take you right now, I want our first time together to be special."

He gently toys with your lips, not removing his eyes from them in an intimate stare. "I'd want to have all the time in the world with you. No interruptions...no sneaky dads down the hallway..." He teases, to which your cheeks burn as you look away.

"Just all night with you and me, sweetheart. But only after I buy you whatever food your heart desires. Sounds good?"

Your smile nearly breaks your cheeks as you melt at his romantic proposition. "Sounds perfect to me," you answer softly.

"Good..." He flashes a dazzling smile back at you, cradling your face in his hands.

The heat from his skin pressed against your bare cheek deliberately makes your mind go fuzzy, your eyes seized by a delayed wave of tiredness as your body realizes the late hour.

Peter senses it too, doing his best to lay you back on the couch so you can sleep undisturbed but you pull him closer,

"Just a little longer, Peter?"

"Haha...awh, baby. If you say so. Just a little longer."

He hugs you close against his chest, your face tucked into the crook of his neck, fighting off sleep just a bit more so he can cuddle his new beautiful girlfriend while her dad stayed clueless in dreamland down the hall, trying to figure out what flowers he'd present you with at dinner, maybe a little bracelet or locket to go with it to mark you as his.

He sighs and strokes your shoulder but doesn't dare to close his eyes as he bids you quiet goodnight with a kiss on your sleeping lips, stealing a spare t-shirt from your dad from the laundry basket and his suit jacket off the coat rack on the way out. His white button down with his scent enveloping you in restful sleep on the couch.

----

@huniedeux @mrsoharaa @reverieblondie @slushycoookie @monarchberrysblog @gltzpzy I know you wanna read it Alicia lol 😁🤭

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