#on the bright side - a friend that has been working for the same company but different project is still working there

[hxney-lemcn]

General Romantic Headcanons — Anya, Daisuke x gn! reader

tw: none.

wc: 1k (~500 per character)

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Anya

❥Anya is really soft when it comes to the people she cares about. One of the reasons why she wanted to become a nurse was to help others, so it’s no surprise that she’s very caring, always looking out for you. It’s hard to keep friends in her line of work, so she cherishes you extra, finding solace in your company.

❥She feels a bit silly having a crush when she’s this old. Sure, she hasn’t reached middle aged yet, but having a crush over the age of twenty makes her feel a bit foolish. Yet you always seem to make her fall for you even more. The inside jokes, the late night discussions, your constant encouragement and strong willed belief in her makes her heart flutter. You had been by her side after so many of her lows, the constant rejections from med school and her long trips that separated you for years. She’s not sure what she did to deserve you.

❥When Anya has a crush on you she’ll be a bit more bashful yet confident at the same time. It’s a confusing mix. Some moments have her blushing and shying away, while others she’s teasing and complimenting you. If you tell her how pretty you find her or brush her hair behind her ear she’s done for. It’s like her heart won’t stop beating out of her chest and her face is bright red. Anya will hide her face, trying to stay calm. If she finds you shying away for one thing or another? It’s over, she’s like a cat who spotted its prey. She won’t let it go and continue to tease you until you combust. She loves seeing you in such a state, and it may seem out of character, but with you she feels comfortable enough.

❥Honestly, it's a toss of the coin who confesses first. After long enough, she’ll end up confessing during one of your nightly hangouts, going from how much she cares about you to how she wishes you were together. If you’re the one confessing, do it in a more private setting. She’s not the biggest romantic, but the quiet setting would feel more intimate to her, like it's just the two of you in the big, big world. Anya would be so happy that you both finally crossed that boundary, wishing it could’ve been sooner. 

❥When you start dating things won’t change much. Things just get a bit more comforting and homey. Neither of you hesitate with your innocent affection anymore, threading your fingers together without uncertainty or resting your head on the other’s shoulder without care. If anything you both hang out even more, going on small dates to cafes or reading books at home. What does change is how it's even harder to let her go when work calls. How you dread the upcoming year without her smile or laughter, or how frustrated she gets when she loses to you. 

❥But you don’t worry too much. Anya always comes back, and you’ll continue to be by her side when she inevitably applies to another med school. Listen to her rant about what she experienced, her minor grievances with her coworkers. It’ll be all the sweeter to have her back in your arms, watching the stars and pondering where your futures will lead.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Daisuke

❥Like Anya, Daisuke is soft when it comes to those he loves. He’s just a bit more outgoing about it. The type to show someone a picture of you and be like ‘yeah, that’s my best buddy’. Yes, he is internally dying when he has to call you his friend. 

❥Hands down he’s so obvious with how he’s crushing. Daisuke basically becomes your personal butler with how fast he’s willing to stop what he’s doing for you. You’re hungry? Don’t worry, he’ll get you some food. You’re cold? Hold on, he’s got a really fluffy blanket you’ll love. He’ll take any excuse he can get to prove his worth to you (not that you need him too). He gets extra giddy when you both hang out. It’s just so chill, and he gets to spend more time with you, maybe buy you something that’ll remind you of him. 

Yeah…he’s down bad.

❥Finding reasons to love you? It comes naturally to him. It’s like every day he finds another thing that makes him want to squeeze you. Confessing? Hahaha…uhhh he’s having trouble on that front. Daisuke cherishes what you have so much, he finds it terrifying to shift things. He’s so blindsighted by his own feelings, he’s afraid he’s projecting the hints he thinks you’re giving him. So he keeps his feelings to himself, refraining from touching you for too long or saying something that may give him away…yeah he’s not as good at that as he thinks.

❥You’ll have to confess. Daisuke will just continue to beat around the bush, blushing and pretending like he wasn’t head over heels for you. Confess anywhere, Daisuke doesn’t mind. He’ll be too taken aback at the confession to care if people were staring or not. The moment you tell him you like him he’s on cloud nine. 

He nearly forgets to confess back…

❥Once it’s official (and boundaries are placed), Daisuke will be all over you. It’s like he’ll die if he isn’t touching you in one way or another. Loves love loves holding hands with you, extra points if you fidget with his fingers or rings. He not only loves feeling you by his side, but being useful (whether that be by being your guide in crowded spaces or a fidget toy for you to calm your racing mind) is his top need. It’s just so reassuring to know that you love him, need him, and rely on him. 

❥Loves any and all kinds of dates. From exciting ones like theme parks and haunted houses, to the lowkey ones like sleepovers and going to the park. Can barely take his eyes off you if you dress up (this could be just the smallest touch up like putting on perfume/cologne if you normally don’t or doing your hair differently). Can barely take his eyes off you if you don’t dress up tbh…

❥Daisuke finds himself finally looking forward to what his future holds.

[64rd]

Hats FUCKING off to you, holy shit.

what can I say. modern software development is HELL to the point I achieved complete burnout in record time of two years

[saduko]

PAY YOUR DEBT

Lando Norris x Driver!Reader 7.6K words

Summary: Lando's Austrian crash could not have come at a worse time, and now he's scrambling to find someone to replace him in the upcoming Quadrant video. He's so lucky you care, and that you're horrible at lying. Or in which, reader takes Lando's place during Quadrants; 'Spill Your Guts', and they manage to pull some interesting information out of her.

Childhood Friends to Lovers, Pining, Slowburn

Despite having never met you, the cast of Quadrant were more than familiar with your name for one of a few reasons. The first being that, you were of course, a renowned Formula 1 driver beloved by many. The second being their own proximity with another famous Formula 1 driver who so happened to be your Mclaren teammate. 

For years they watched from a distance, saw your interviews and watched your races, cheering their team in orange on as the two of you dominated race weekends once again. It was obvious Lando was fond of you just off the way the two interacted on track, but beyond their parasocial concept of your relationship, they knew he liked you because of the sheer number of times your name was mentioned in the Quadrant circle. Lando’s inability to refrain from speaking about you was frankly an ongoing joke at this point. Though they playfully rolled their eyes at every mention of your name, they knew they couldn't necessarily criticize him for it either. Its hard not to talk about people you spend a lot of time around, and naturally, with you two being teammates and all, it wasn’t all that strange for him to want speak about you.

And when they consider the fact that your history stems way beyond just the devoted McLaren camaraderie you share, it’s hard to be mad at him when he brings you up. You two did grow up carting together after all, entering every stage of your lives with the other. You were childhood friends.

Except they had also spent a lot of time with Lando. Yeah, you might work with him, but so do they, and they knew he wasn't just talking about you because you were around often. They knew he wasn't just mentioning you because you grew up swerving along the same tracks or because you now wore the same bright papaya orange.

The man so obviously liked you and they all knew it. He mentioned your smile far too often to hide it, and he always seemed a bit too proud when he talked about being the reason you did. Not a single Quadrant member has ever spoken to you before, and yet somehow each one could articulate the way your eyes crinkled tight when you laughed or how your lips pursed hard when you found something funny but didn't want to show it.

He liked you, even if he denied it.

And so the Quadrant cast begged and begged to meet you. Eager to see the woman who has evidently captured the man's attention, despite his insistence to the contrary to no avail. Though, their efforts hadn't entirely fallen on deaf ears; in fact, Lando had been trying to get you in a Quadrant video since he founded the damn company, begging for nearly four years, only to be met with the same dismissive glare from your gleaming eyes every time.

“One day, Lando. Not today.” 

One day, you would say. Though he’s starting to think one day is no day at all. In your defense, opportunities away from the relentless gaze of the media are far and few between and the brief moments of peace you manage to find are precious. The thought of spending that private time filming yet another video for millions to watch has never been particularly enticing. As much as you care for Lando, sometimes you cherish your downtime just a little bit more.

But... this time he was stressed, and you could see it. He was supposed to film a Quadrant video this week. Finally home in London for this week’s Grand Prix, at last, he was able to put a little more effort into his personal business. It was one of the very few times a year he was able to participate in the creative side of the brand. The whole video had been planned, written, set up and was ready to be shot. The date was set, it was finally coming together. But then Lando crashed. He crashed in Austria and now his work at Mclaren had essentially been doubled for Silverstone week and he had no time to film. And now all the week’s worth of effort put into preparing the video had been flung out the window. It was supposed to be yet another spill your guts video focused on Lando and his career but now with last week's events disrupting this week's schedule, they were going to have to rewrite all the questions and find someone to fill his spot.

And so you’d watched him for the past few days on calls, asking around to see who could be available on such short notice. Between his team of producers, the other members of Quadrant and possible candidates for the video, on top of the copious amounts of obligations he had at the Mclaren headquarters, you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty knowing you were spending all the current free time you had between track work lounging around the Hilton pool. You technically had no reason not to help. Changing the script wouldn’t be an easy task with the little time they had. You knew filling in meant they would have their empty spot filled and they wouldn’t need to tweak the script as much. You were a driver too, the questions they would have asked Lando still mostly applied to you as well. And you knew it’d do Lando a huge favor; lift such a massive weight off his already heavy shoulders so he could run around McLaren focusing on what actually mattered most this week - getting his car ready for the upcoming race.

And so you did it. You smiled so kindly at Lando on that faithful Wednesday afternoon and so calmly announced that if he was struggling to find a replacement, you’d be happy to help him out just this once. It was finally one day, you would take the spot for Quadrant.

Landos face had never expressed so much surprise yet simultaneous relief. And it was only a matter of seconds until Landos arm had reached entirely around your waist and your feet had left the ground. You caught a few questioning glares being sent your way from a couple Mclaren engineers in the garage, but the breath struggling to find its way to your lips at the force of it all left you unbothered. “Y/n, thank you so much, you don’t understand how much this helps me out! I owe you so bad.” 

You would never say it to him, but his smile in that moment had almost paid his debt entirely right then and there. All the nerves and doubt about the decision you just made had nearly swept right by as you watched his face light with adoration. But instead you sent him a defeated grin as he placed you down on your heels. “I’m gonna hold you to your words. I better not regret this.”

“You won't, I swear.”

__ Regret this you will. As soon as the quadrant team had received the call that in his place, Lando's fellow teammate would instead be filling in for his absence, they immediately knew this wouldn’t be the video everyone was anticipating. They would take this opportunity to finally squeeze out the information they had been waiting to know for years. This would be their first time meeting you, and god was it a gold's mine worth of an opportunity. Not only would they be able to question you about your life as an F1 driver, they could also question you about your romantic life as an F1 driver, specifically about your relationship with Lando, a topic you successfully eluded everywhere else. But this video was the perfect opportunity. They would have a polygraph on set, and you were doing Lando a favor. You couldn’t leave and most importantly, you couldn’t lie.

The topic of your love life wasn't a new one, and a flurry of greedy journalists digging for a story have attempted to ask about your potential feelings for anyone and everyone on the grid. You always denied ever liking any fellow drivers and kept adamant that your driving and personal lives stay separate. But they had Lando as a secondary source - maybe to a fault - and from everything the man had explained, there was no way you weren't at least a little into him. And they were gonna get it out of you.

Was it a bit unethical? Maybe. Was it manipulative? Perhaps. Had Lando already told them he’d cut their pay if they fucked with you. Absolutely. But he’d be fine once he hears what you would inevitably say. He could thank them after they got you to confess the crush you just had to have on Lando. 

So here you were, staring at a set full of very enthusiastic YouTubers, all beyond eager to be sharing a table with the phantom of a woman they had been hearing about for almost 4 years now.

Not only were you a talented and beloved motorsports athlete, more importantly, you were the girl their mate liked. and as a friend, they were curious, but as youtubers, they were out for blood. And if there's one thing a group of Youtubers were going to do, it was get you to admit your deepest darkest secrets for online content.

There would be no filling, only spilling, they'd be sure of that.

Oblivious as you were, despite how nervous you initially felt about participating in the video, it had been smooth sailing so far along. Everyone was nice enough and you could see why Lando enjoyed the company of these people, they were all quite funny after all, and the questions were not the absolute mood draining, time wasters you were used to receiving.

You were nervous coming into this but maybe this wouldn’t be all that bad.

The table settled from their laughter as Ria finally swallowed whatever it was she had been forced to bite into. Bull testicles? You didn’t want to know, and honestly it didn’t really matter all that much anymore because for the third time round, it was your turn again, and you were now being strapped up to the Polygraph machine.

Max Fewtrell's eyes sparked with a menacing joy as they locked with your own. He was hosting this video, meaning he was safe from the contents of the table, but more importantly, he got to interrogate the girl his best mate was into. He was the only person who knew that for a fact thanks to the multitude of conversations Lando has had with him in private, begging for advice on what to do. As bad as he felt about it, Max could never give Lando a straight answer, he didn’t know his fellow driver, didn’t know what it was she felt, and if she truly meant what she was saying in her interviews, it wasn’t looking too good for his friend.

This was finally his opportunity to help out.

“Y/n…” His voice carried menacingly around the room, dragging out each syllable to draw the suspense. You eyed him playfully, keeping your guard up as his eyes flickered from you to the card in his hand and then back up to you a few times. The last few questions had been relatively tame, all relating to your job; who your favorite team really was, who you disliked the most on the grid, (you'd had your fair few arguments with Stroll, but you bit into an 1000 year old egg because you were not going to admit it.)

A part of you hoped they were giving you easy questions because you were a guest - a good friend of Landos at that, but at the back of your mind you knew better. And that’s why when the question escaped Max’s lips, you really didn’t feel all that surprised. “Do you really mean it when you say you like to keep your professional life and your private life separate?”

Simple enough, but you were smart enough to know the implications of the question, so you hesitated. “... Yes.”

A pause, no buzz. “That’s true.” Ethan comments.

“Okay that’s too easy, let me rephrase it.” Max’s gaze bore straight into your own. “Do you really mean it when you say you don’t see any of the boys on the grid as like, candidates? You don’t find any of them attractive?”

The groan that escaped you was so inherently guttural you hadn’t even noticed you made the noise. Everyone laughed at your reaction and it seemed so light hearted on the surface, but inside your mind was beginning to race, heartbeat speeding up as if the peddle was full throttle. This was exactly what you were nervous about.

You had felt a bit uneasy once finding out a polygraph machine would be present, and crossed your fingers that the team wouldn’t get into the topic of your romantic ties with the boys on the grid. You guess your luck didn't really extend past the track. initially, no ties with the other drivers sparked any fears within you at the question. You really didn't have any romantic ideas of anyone, the others truly were just friends, boys you grew up with, some like brothers. None of the boys had ever made your eyes wander, or ever had your heart skipping beats when you made eye contact. There wasn’t a single driver you could think of that had ever made you nervous or left you hoping for anything more than just a friendship. No one except that one boy. That one stupid boy that had led you into this goddamned position in the first place. That one stupid boy who’s mates were all gathered around the table with eager eyes directed entirely towards you, waiting for an answer. This was truly your worst nightmare. Maybe you did like Lando, maybe the moment had awoken within your days in F2; seeing him grow from the scrawny kid on the track to something else entirely. So what of it? No one needed to know that. Curse you and your incessant want to help that stupid boy through his stress. Why did he need to make you care about him enough to do this? Now, you could ‘fill your guts' if you really wanted to, but with a yes or no question like this, no answer is just as much an answer in itself. You had watched this game enough to know how it worked, and so you opted to take your chances against the polygraph machine. “Yes I mean it.” One phrase. A simple phrase muttered through a guilty smile, and yet you could hear your heart through your ribs as you told the lie and it was so, so silent after that. The anticipation felt like the devil himself had engulfed the room in its glory. The faces at the table had your palms sweating further and Ginge’s ability to hold such intense eye contact left you wondering if there was more to this than it seemed. God, was this the longest 3 seconds of your life. But you were good under pressure. If you can keep your heart steady driving at 350 kilometers an hour, you could keep your heart steady enough to lie your way out of this question-

Beep.

Suddenly the room was ablaze with noise, yelling and screaming as everyone expressed their disbelief yet absolute excitement at the answer. Incoherent sentences thrown your way one on top of the other but your brain couldn’t decipher a single sentence, instead engulfed in the thought of how much this would change the way all the boys spoke to you, how Lando spoke to you, now that they knew you did like someone. You could already hear Danny’s teasing voice followed up by his sly, all knowing smirk. Fuck. Was it too late to back out? Maybe you could bribe Lando into deleting the footage. 

But as you glanced forward into Max’s eyes, you saw the silent omniscient smirk that trickled on to his face - like the calm amidst the chaos - and you knew there was no going back. You were cooked. Your face fell into the palm of your hands, sheepish laughs slipping past your lips as you spoke in a slow, bashful tone, “No! It’s-.. It’s not like that!” But damage control is useless when the damage is already done. “Oh really?!” Ginges thick accent was next to echo across the room over top all the others, “Cause it seems like you’ve been secretly canoodling with some fast bastards and lying to all us about it!”

Ethan was the first to laugh, and soon everyone else's laughter followed suit, and as defeated as you felt a loud chuckle slipped past your lips at the comment. At the very least they were being funny about it and not trying to make a huge deal of it.

However, for the time being they couldn't prove it but once you admitted it, there was no going back, so you figured doubling down and playing dumb was the best option. “No- like, okay; the boys are good looking, they're attractive but that doesn't mean I necessarily like any of them. I grew up with these boys, you know, they’re like brothers to me. Your machine is definitely bugging out or something.”

“Nah, I think it’s working fine.” The reintroduction of Max’s voice had the room settling once again. It seemed all the quadrant members were on the edge of their seats, like they had been anticipating this the whole time.

“But if you’re sure it’s not working properly, I can try asking a different question, rephrase it a little better for you?" Max's face turned towards the camera. "In fact, we have a little tradition here!” His eyes gazing through the lens as he spoke. “Spill your guts tradition says that guests have to answer the final question and rules are no eating on the last round.” Now his eyes turned to you, “Truth’s only, so I hope you have your answer ready.”

You were just moments away from opening your mouth to protest, the words at the tip of your tongue; No thanks it’s fine,’ or even just a ‘I’ve already answered two questions, it’s not my turn anymore.’ as petty as it was. But the words were never able to slip past your overly gnawed on lips before your heart was sinking to the absolute pits of your stomach. “Who do you like on the grid and why is it Lando?”

Panic. “God! No- no it’s not Lando!” Deny. “Definitely, not Lando!” Deny.

The polygraph machine was silent for a moment as everyones eyes flickered over to the screen, and you endured the tension in real time as your forehead came down, lips pursing. And yet nothing came, no beeping sound to be heard. 

To this all the boys are silent, and Ria’s eyes flicker up to Max as the man furrows his brows down. There was no way they managed to make the driver inadvertently admit she liked someone, just for it to not be Lando. You had to like him. All the stories Lando told him, all the words you spoke to him repeated back to Max, all the looks Lando was adamant he observed. All the nights clubbing, celebrating their wins together in videos Max himself saw. Your hands would travel just a little too far up, or your eyes would hold his just a little too long. It had to be Lando. He knows it.

“Okay, okay fair enough. Then I'll ask again, more direct. Y/n, do you like Lan-”

You knew the flaring panic in your eyes was not doing much to help your case, neither were your next words, but by the grace of god, or maybe his pity, that machine didn't beep despite your lie and you had just been handed an out, and lord be damned if you weren't going to capitalize on that inconclusive result. “Wait!” 

You need to be smart about this. You needed to give them something they wanted whilst not giving them everything. A little sacrifice to spare a lifetime of embarrassment, and probably a long and testing conversation between you and Lando. “How about I take one bite of every single thing on this table, chew and swallow instead.” Your eyes held so much hope, pleading for an out but Max only laughs at your soft little doe eyed expression and you couldn't help but frown. 

“Okay, that’d be quite funny.” Ria’s laugh suddenly bit the air, and you had to silently thank her for subverting the attention elsewhere for a moment.

“I wouldn’t do that for no one, especially not for Lando. Are you sure you don’t like him y/n?” You knew Niran was joking but god did his comment make your hands sweat. Calm down.

Max shrugged, ignoring the remarks of his fellow Quadrant members. “Rules are rules, can’t eat your way out of the last question, you have to answer.”

You have to think fast. “...Okay, well…" Hm. "How about this?” It’s the only thing you could think of on the fly, but maybe it’ll work. “I’ll tell you the details, but- I won’t mention any names. So you get to know the whens and what’s, without knowing the who’s." Your laugh was light hearted, though it sounded more nervous than humorous.

A silence suddenly engulfed the room, eyes darting back and forth as the people on the table thought over the offer. In fact the room was so silent, you felt you could hear the gears turning in their heads and you couldn’t help but feel your heart rate speed up just a little more at the prospect. These people were essentially marketing geniuses. They were youtubers whose jobs it was to get as many views as possible. Whatever the decision, you knew it wasn’t about to be in your favor, but about what favored Quadrant as a brand. You were no good at marketing - you drove fast cars even faster for god sake, but damn if you didn’t hope your idea was good enough for them. 

Ginge’s voice was the first to sound. “Nah, nah, stop trying to change the conversation speedy gonzales, you think ‘cause you’re a bloody F1 driver you can- you can bend the rules!? It may slide over there princess but it ain’t gonna slide ‘ere.” His finger pointed down into the table with a glare that almost felt real and you were really trying to think but now you were laughing. 

So was everyone else apparently, because it took you a moment to hear Steve’s smooth voice through all the noise, “Alright, but we’re already putting the girl through a lot.” Then finally Max spoke again. He was really starting to feel like the governing power here, “Okay hear me out. Names are easy to find when you have a story. We get the story and then we evaluate.” His eyes bore directly at you, laughing as he spoke. Max knew with whatever story you told, he could just go right to Lando and together they could eventually connect the dots. He wasn’t trying to out you to everyone… just to Lando.

After a moment of deliberation Aarav spoke, “All agreed?” To which everyone seemed to nod in agreement.

Max nodded his head. “Alright Y/n, you win. In that case, this guy you like-” 

“-I don’t like him-” “-How long are we talking?... This guy you like.” The last comment had a playful laugh leaving your lips as you brought your nail to your mouth. He was purposefully pushing your buttons.

Your lips, previously curled into a smile, had now pursed at the question. “I don’t like him.” You reiterate. “It was like a small little crush if anything.”

“Was it recent?” Max questioned. “No, god it was years ago.”

Beep. Fuck, you completely forgot about the Polygraph. You could ring that stupid things neck. Come on, man throw me a bone or something. Max smiled at the revelation, glancing over at Ria as she spoke through her smirk. “Must be more than just a small little crush if your heart beat is rising at the thought of him.” To this, your head hung low as your laugh sounded. “I plead the fifth.”

You couldn’t even imagine how you would look to any viewers at home once this came out. They had well and truly cornered you here. 

“Well this isn’t a bloody democracy now is it, this is an ambush.” You're very right Ginge this really is an ambush, you thought. There might be no escaping this one.

“When did you first notice you liked this person?” Ria was determined to keep the conversion on track. This is the most anyone had ever gotten out of you regarding your love life, and it being about another driver? Potentially Lando?! They were so close to what they wanted. You were silent for a moment, assessing the people staring on with anticipation. You’d only ever told this story to two people, your mom and your best friend. Were you really about to expose it to the world? The polygraph strapped to your chest said you were. 

“I-... I first felt it a couple years back.”

Compliance. They got you.

“How far back we talking?” Max questioned.

“I don’t know…” your eyes flickered up at him. “Maybe early F2 days?” Ria’s eyes just about bugged out of her head as you answered, hands coming down onto the table with a gasp. “That’s like over 5 years ago!” Her reaction had you groaning, face turning a shade red enough to match the ferraris you race against as you sunk down into your seat. “Now I need to know! There had to have been a moment where you felt it! Because you had been racing with these boys for years! There has to be a moment of clarity, or was it like, progressive? Or-?”

“It- It was definitely progressive in some ways but I do remember the moment it kind of.. hit me.”

“Was it sudden?”

“So sudden.” You laughed. “Tell us!” It felt strange to engage in this conversation, you had sworn to yourself that no one else would ever hear about the feelings you had buried away for years now. Was it better to speak or to die? That truly was the question… But, It was out now, everyone knew you had feelings for one of your teammates; at least one of your F2 ones. What more harm could the details afflict? Besides you’d raced against a multitude of drivers in your F2 career, many of which never even made it to the current F1 grid so the chances of anyone guessing who you were even talking about had to be slim. Speak it was. 

“We were-” The observant eyes of the Quadrant members beamed on at you as you bit your lip in deliberation, but the debate in your brain was finally over, and so you took a breath in.

“We were in between seasons beforehand, so I hadn’t really seen the boys in a few months. And I remember walking into one of the common rooms, where a bunch of the boys were all sitting around before the race, and again, I hadn’t seen these boys for quite a bit.” Your hands moved with every word you spoke, “And the thing about the F2 is that, we were all about 17 to 18 right, so most of the boys had already had their growth spurts, puberty and all that… except for this one guy.” Your eyes were bright as you recalled the memory, a laugh chasing the ends of your lips as the table fell silent.

“And at this rate - in my 17 year old brain - the only thing that ever really mattered to me was racing. Like I could genuinely have cared less about boys and relationships and all that, I’d never had a boyfriend and I was so disinterested in it. To me these boys were my friends off track and my competitors on, nothing in between. So I remember seeing everyone I hadn't seen for while and not really thinking much of it. But then my eyes kind of looked on and… noticed.. him.” God that sounds so corny but you were trying to be inconspicuous, not give away too many details. It wasn’t working.

“Him?” Max smirked. 

“Him.”  You doubled down. “The person.” You glared as a light laugh sounded. “He had always been a bit more on the smaller side, I guess? A 'late bloomer.'” The phrase came to you. “And I don’t know what the fuck happened in those four months we were away but god did puberty hit that motherfucker like a truck.” This time the laughter was a lot louder and you leant back, suddenly a little more comfortable now that the weight had been lifted off your chest. “It was like, he had gone from this scrawny little kid everyone used to pick on to this… man in the blink of an eye and my brain could not comprehend it.”

“Moment of clarity.” Ria laughed and you laughed alongside her.

“No really! Like that’s really what it felt like. I remember hugging everyone because I hadn’t seen them in so long, but when it came to this guy, I just, like- stared and nodded at him and he gave me the weirdest look cause I'd never done that before!” Your voice was thick with embarrassment as you chuckled, and everyone joined in your laughter. Then you stuck up your pointer finger. “But it gets worse.” You swallowed. “So my brain’s already kind of short circuiting in that moment and I guess he thought my odd behavior just wasn't worth his time because then he just goes on, puts his hands down and takes off his shirt-”

“What?!” Ethan yelled. 

“Because we were racing soon and they always would! They would change around the paddock all the time! It’s so normal, they still do it, and I never, ever thought anything of it, like it never phased me. But this one time, when he just lifted his shirt over his head and I was already feeling things I’d never felt before, I was already confused, and oh my god. I don’t know what happened to me.”

Once again the table was booming with laughter. “No, it was so bad. Definitely one of my worst moments. It got to the point where one of the other boys; no names - had to smack me alongside the head and tell me to stop glaring.”

Max’s eyes lit up as he heard the last part. “Wait, people noticed?” “Not people, just the one, I think. If anyone else did, they never said anything.”

“Huh.” Max nodded. “And you don’t feel this way anymore?”

The word came without hesitance, “No,” you shook your head.

Beep.

Max had just found his jackpot moment. He had the information he needed.

What a week it had been. Between the guilt of Austria, the subsequent frantic Mclaren schedule leading up to Silverstone and the stress of the Quadrant video, Lando felt he could truly take his first breath of fresh air knowing at least one of those problems was officially resolved. 

The day was nearing its end meaning you were probably just about done filming with his crew and were likely headed back to the hotel for some well deserved rest before a hectic day of simulation practice and debriefing tomorrow.

He knows he has already done it 1000 times over, but he really needed to thank you for the favor you did him this week. No matter how much you spoke of all free time you had, he knew you were really just as busy with race prep, it wasn’t the simple ‘schedule squeeze’ you had made it out to be and he was more than grateful.

“What time did you say Y/n was coming back?” Charles’ voice rang loud throughout the room as his eyes flickered up from his phone. A few of the drivers had decided to spend a not so usual night in Max's hotel room sharing a few drinks. Camaraderie and all that, especially after the tension of last week.

“She should be finishing up now.”

“Is she coming back here?” Charles continued, still glancing between his phone and Lando’s eyes, fingers tapping briskly over the screen. 

“I’m not sure, I haven’t spoken to her. Why?” Landos eyebrows furrowed down as he asked. 

“Nothing, Alex was asking, that's all. I think she was going to stop by if so but I’ll tell her don’t worry.” To this Lando hummed. As much as he hoped you would stop by - hoped you would have a few drinks with them because you always got a little touchy and so much more bold with your advances when you did (and he’d be completely lying if he said he didn’t love it everytime) - he also knew how exhausting a day of filming was. Further, he knew his friends, and as much as he had scolded them - put them through the ringer about not messing with you, he knew them well enough to know they would do it anyways. You would probably go straight back to the room, and while he understood, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

Distracted with his thoughts of you, he had almost missed the buzzing of his phone on the table besides the couch armrest he had been leaning against, if it hadn’t been for Carlos’ voice breaking the trail his mind was wandering. “Lando compadre, your phone.”

Snapping his eyes to the side, Lando quickly reached out and turned it over to see Max Fewtrell's name splayed across the screen. And being too lazy to pick up the phone and assuming he was just calling to assure him that filming went well, he swiped his finger across the screen and pressed the speaker button to talk.

“Yeah mate, how’d it go?”

“She has feelings for a driver.” 

Woah. No hello, no how are you, not even a build up to the revelation? It felt as if the world had stopped spinning as every single person in the room froze to look back at Lando with wide eyes.

“W-What?” Landos heart felt still in his chest as he spoke.

“We got her to talk about her relationships on the grid-”

“-You dickhead! I told you not to-”

“-I know you told us not to push her, but It wasn’t me!”

“You’re telling me she just admitted that on her own?” Landos voice was laced with sarcasm, a scoff of knowing disbelief leaving his throat. Bullshit.

“No! … Ria did it.”

“Max you muppet, she was doing me a favor! She probably hates me now.” Lando sighed into his hands before peaking through his fingers to glance around. All three boys; Charles, Carlos and Verstappen all had their heads turned towards the phone with wide eyes. 

“Well, that’s the thing,” Max laughed. “Maybe not! She said there was a driver she had a crush on during her formula 2 days, she wouldn’t admit who and when we asked if she still liked them she said no, but the buzzer went off. She was lying, Lando.” The silence in the room seemed deathly thick as the words left Fewtrells mouth, the three other boys blinking at the words they were hearing. They were sure to be experiencing the same emotions Lando himself had been. Shock, confusion, maybe a little intrigue. The boys had been teasing you for years about your relationship status. You had been single for so long, yet constantly surrounded by men so it was inevitable that the conversations would arise; you had to like someone. Nevertheless, you always stood firm, exclaiming that always being around the boys just made it even easier not to. 

After years of the same answers, with absolutely no indication to suggest otherwise, it was hard not to believe the words you spoke. And when you started dating your then boyfriend a few years ago - now ex, thank god for Lando - and bringing him around the paddock; a random guy none of the boys knew very well, the teasing well and truly died down. You really didn’t like anyone on the grid.

But now here they were hearing that the years of teasing, the years of questions, of loud drunken debates and near screaming matches had all been in effort to hide the truth they all suspected. A truth you had been hiding for over 5 years apparently.

The silence must have stuck out to Max Fewtrell beyond the phone, as he seemed to continue talking in the absence of a response. “Here’s what we managed to get out of her. He was an F2 driver that raced with her. She was close to him because he was one of the first people she saw after off season. She had raced with him before, so it wasn’t a new driver. And get this, he was a ‘late bloomer'- was one of the smallest in the comp before he shot up.”

Suddenly it was as if the gears were beginning to turn in Lando’s head, and he couldn’t help but pick up on the obvious smile Fewtrell definitely wore behind the phone. A late bloomer? There weren't many of those by the time they had reached Formula 2, and if there was one thing Lando was, it was a late bloomer. And it seemed everyone else had put the same cogs together, because now all the boys seated around were looking at him with sly smirks and cocked brows. 

God, there was no way. Not a single chance! Lando had spent the past however many years of his life stumbling after this girl, chasing your shadow in hopes for just a single moment of something more between you. That you would glance at him from a distance for as long as he did you, yearn to talk to him as much as he did you, sit up and think about him as often as he did you. He had liked you for as long as he could remember, and while he admits it may have been more akin to puppy love back in his teen years, that innocent crush quickly developed into something so much more intense as he got to be close to you. He wasn’t really afraid to admit he had feelings for you, and while he's never really said it out loud, he also made no attempts to hide it either, and it quickly became obvious to all your mutual friends that he liked you. 

The two youngest single people on the paddock that grew up together, now teammates, who were forced to be around each other everyday but somehow were still never apart, even when it wasn’t required, together anyway. Except one was obviously in love and the other would never like a driver, personal life and professional life were strictly separate.

Beep. Lies. 

Fuck, no, he couldn’t get his hopes up like this. It’s something, but it also doesn't really mean anything.

“Okay but, there were a lot of damn drivers on the f2 grid. There were a few late bloomers, and she was friends with plenty of the other guys that never made it to Formula 1. She- she could be talking about a lot of people.”

“You didn’t think I'd call you with all this doubt, Bob?” Max’s voice was smug and mischievous and Lando couldn’t help but wince at the dumb nickname. “Respect my name. I wouldn’t leave without something to attest. Apparently she was caught staring at the guy by another driver. Another driver knows, or at least they noticed.”

“F2 years you said?” Verstappen's voice rang loud, it almost made Lando jump from the change in bass. 

“That’s what y/n said.”

Verstappen's eyes seem harsh as his brows move down to come over his lids. “Coming back from the off season?”

“...Yeah?” Fewtrell agrees. 

In the blink of an eye Verstappen’s tense face had quickly fallen into a bright and humorous expression, eyes squinting tight as his head fell back in a loud laugh, “Oh my god!” 

“What?” Lando questions.

“Oh my god, Lando, It’s you!”

A chorus of ‘what’s’, and ‘huh’s’ course the room as Max leans over to give Lando an exhilarated slap on the back of the neck. Lando’s eyes are wide as he leans forward in a wince. Though, wether he was wincing at Max’s sudden motion or the revelation he’d just been subjected to, he wasn’t sure. You? Liking him?!

“It was me who noticed!” His laugh boomed as he spoke. “I remember it because I thought it was funny at the time, and for a while after it I thought she might have liked you because it was so unlike her. But she kept denying ever liking anyone and then she showed up with that prick of a boyfriend after that and I just let it go. I always knew it was something!” Max’s voice went raspy as he spoke in a loud, joyful tone, he was no doubt excited at the news. He loved you and wanted to help you wherever he could. And though he would never say it out loud, watching Lando pine over you; the way he cared for you, the way he would defend you when the media had negative things to say; he did think Lando would be a good match for you. 

Now, Lando on the other hand, Lando’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions as he struggled to conceptualize the bomb that had just been dropped over him. He had spent so long pining after you, thinking you saw him as nothing more than just a teammate or worse, just a friend. The idea of you possibly liking him back was a concept he had spent night dreaming of yet never did he think the day would actually come. He was so unconvinced of it ever happening he almost felt unprepared, unsure of what to do or how to act now. Yet, here it was. The room seemed to buzz with a newfound energy, the boys' playful teasing barely registering as he tried to wrap his head around the idea.

"Lando, you okay?" Carlos asked, his voice softer than usual, breaking through Lando's thoughts.

Lando blinked, looking up to see the concerned yet amused faces of his friends. "Yeah, just... processing."

“She likes you mate!” His best friend's words sounded unreal to him. You like him. You like him too. All this time trying to form something with you, not realizing what you already had.

Crashing that goddamn car may have been the best fucking thing that's ever happened to him.

If he’d known this would have been the outcome of DNFing he’d have sent his car straight into the track barrier years ago. Sacrificing pole position if he had to.

He truly thought nothing could have taken him away from this moment, not a single other thing could pull him back from his thoughts of you. Nothing except you. And the sound of his phone beeping with the tone of an incoming call really did pull him back to reality. Because it was you. You were calling!

The boys incessant chatter had immediately come to a halt as Lando shot up. “She’s calling!” His head turning left to right as he frantically looked around at the boys around him. “She’s calling, what do I do?”

Fewtrell’s voice couldn't have come through any clearer. “Answer you knob!”

And so he did. He analyzed the buttons and clicked the one that ended the call with Max and sent it straight over to you instead. 

His heart stuttered as the line went silent, anticipation pulsing through every inch of his veins. The boys sat back in their seats, eagerly eavesdropping on a conversation that could potentially bring a whole new meaning to the word WAG. But Lando didn’t care, more so he didn’t notice, he truthfully had been so sucked in by the letters of your name he forgot the boys were even there. 

What was he even supposed to say? You didn’t know what he knew, maybe he shouldn’t have answered. And yet he found his voice shakily as his teeth clasped his bottom lip.

“Hello?” His breath stuttered as he spoke, and the line sat silent for just a moment too long for Lando’s liking. Y/n? “Lando, you owe me so bad!”

[kooyabooya]

SPECTRE

m reader x giselle // 32k words

part one of silken promises

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

So.

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

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

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

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

At least you’re not alone on your side. 

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need to hear what matters, Wint.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your point?”

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

–

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

“Appointment? For what, exactly?” 

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

“But-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re not opposed to the proposition already. 

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you’re willing, then yes.” 

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

“I guess you could say.” 

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

“You don’t.” 

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

“What event?” 

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

Anyway, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

“You think?” 

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

“Your problems?” 

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

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

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

“I wanted to come to you.” 

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

“So why didn’t you?”

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

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

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

“You didn’t.” 

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

“I’m glad that you did anyway.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Giselle nods, plummeting your mind deeper into her madness. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?” 

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

“Don’t you know it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should know exactly what I mean.” 

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

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

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

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

–

(Like you needed the necessary explanation. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” 

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

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

“Huh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

Almost done? 

Some last minute submissions. 

Nice. 

Dinner somewhere? 

You ask, you buy. 

What about after? 

I’ll pay you back when we get home. 

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

(She has completely fucked you up.) 

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She swears. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Giselle just blinks. 

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

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

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

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

“You-” 

“Mhm?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shh,” she coos. 

“You-” 

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

“Giselle-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

But even so- 

Even so- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wasn’t asking. You promised.” 

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

That stupid pager is still fucking ringing. 

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

“Prove it.” you taunt. 

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

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

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

“Aren’t you excited.” 

“What’s with that tone?” 

“Tone?” 

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

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

“Right.” 

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Karina laughs. “It has, believe me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

Now: 

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

What’s your point?

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

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

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

Dad- 

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

So there’s two incidents that follow: 

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

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

–

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

“Did you and Giselle just-” 

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s for you to figure out.” 

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

“A lot of things, actually.” 

“Like what?” 

“I’m not telling you.” 

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

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

She nods through it, knowing the whole truth. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please-” 

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

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

“-take-” 

She looks amazing. She feels amazing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.” 

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

“S’good-” 

“Again, baby.” 

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

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

Giselle closes her eyes, breathes in, and realizes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah. You know. 

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

When the thrums of your beating heart start to subside. 

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

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

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

“Tired?” 

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

“Long?” 

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

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

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

“You idiot, I know. Now go.” 

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was hoping that you can talk now.” 

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

“Ning, what the fuck-” 

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

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

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

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

[redcherrykook]

──𐙚 working on love - business party!

────୨ৎ────

content: fluff, kinda silce of life, company party, mutual pining, alcohol mentioned, bestie Jimin is a wingman for em, smoking together, some cutesy kissing, Jk speaking in satoori mentioned

note from cherry: I´m tired of writing smut so here´s this request without smut.. sorry cloud anonie! ily!!!!,,,,this might get a pt2 if you guys want!!

────୨ৎ────

This is the best night you´ve had for a while. A tight, rather modest cream dress, hours spend on that flowy blowout and natural, brown toned make up all sum up the immediate glow radiating from your figure- glowing, for what seems to be the first time after ending that draining relationship.

Wooyoung was a good guy in the beginning. A gentleman inside the crowd modern day Elvis's, someone who did all the smooth talking, picking you up with a boquet and your favorite food, someone who would have bought you the moon if you asked him too.

Similar to how prominent and illuminated tonights moon hangs up so high in the sky, his love dim, not necessarily bright or precisely large- nonetheless, still it felt as thought he was the single source of hope in a darkness you grew comfortable in,

Wooyoungs love never felt raw- like love. apart from there being small muffled butterflies inside your stomach, there was nothing that exceeded any and all expectations you had set, nothing that breached the occasional warmth in your heart when he had once again bought the same boquet.

You had simply swallowed that down, accepting that the hunger you've been yearning for must be yet another illusion that TV has instilled in the minds of vulnerable women, longing for betterment within their limits of fulfilment

Soon enough, even that small light suffocated in your tight hold, you find out that asking for him to stay respectful and loyal seemed to have been too much. He couldn´t keep his promises and when he stopped being present, it only took so much to figure out why.

"Another glass?" he raises his eyebrow, leaning the grey colored, suited body of his against the counter,

you throw back half the glass of champagne, the third one this past hour. Arguably, too much in too little time for a coorprate work party held for networking,

"yes Jimin, i swear I´ll stop after this one" the city lights twinkle from below- from this 12th floor panorama window, even the biggest cars and buildings look small, people become anonymous figures, they loose their character,

become insignificant.

"you´re lying through your teeth" the blonde coworker says, Jimin could read you like a book; from coworkers to friends and quickly, there was nothing too personal to share with him.

His bright smile could never make you get too mad at him when he reported back all of his drunken mistakes and hook ups,

Alcohol brings out the best in people,

and the worst out of the good people

your head turns back to him, leaving the city to continue behind you,

"I know, i just need to breathe a bit"

"with workplace booze? come on"

his chuckle lights up the mood a little bit, "okay, just don´t embarrass us" he says, patting your back as if to reassure his statement

you promise him not to, moving a strand to the side of your face as he gives you a half smile, wandering off to what you presume to be the buffet.

While staring at your chrome nails tapping away at the small glass, the loud chattering from around you fades out briefly, almost as if everyone had completely gone silent,

thats when you spot him; another star emerges,

another radiant glow, you could see him clearer than any other person around, not because he´s tall- broad shoulders and parted, short hair peeking out from the people around- no, he shone like no other

Blurred out the countless voices and handsome faces that thralled around him, almost as if his presence screamed of his arrival, announcing himself as a starlight without even catching a tone of his voice- a glimmer of how he would pronounce your name,

No knowledge of his own unique one, in a strange way, he tugs at something wihin you- a spot you had only discovered now, as if you had met him in a past life or, rather as if you were supposed to see him

Jungkook´s breath gets choked up within his throat,

almost as if the collegues around all parted to make way for you- to reveal your purity, your radiance to him, his eyes land on you like fate,

it must have been fate, seeing you smile slightly with that glass in your hand, before turning your head back to the panorama window,

he watches your bouncy hair move in slow motion, the glitter on your dress sparkles under the warm, dim light of the confrence room,

The curves of your face resonate with him like a painting you see in a museum, only that you had known that painting before- you'd seen it, this being the first you could feel it, feel its vibrant colors meet your eyes in a fight of admiration and anxiety

"wow" his best mate whispers, hitting him in the side with his elbow,

suddenly, everything returns to normal, humans clouding the line of sight to what he must have deemed an angel, he almost sighs in disappointment, still, your glow reflects on the ceiling, disappearing as you also get lost within the crowd yourself, hiding behind the facade of a regular office worker

"what?" he speaks, turning his attention back on his friend who has an impressed smile clutching the contoures of his face,

"what? dude, you were literally standing here with your jaw on the floor"

Jungkook rolls his eyes, "at least i had my eyes on her face you asshole"

Taehyung makes a face that resembles the expression "fair enough", looking between the huddle of people to try and spot you once more,

To no avail, in fact, he wouldn't have been able to, given you had slipped off right away, fetching for another glass of champagne and your emotional support blonde

Despite the chatter that swallows any small sound not relate to business, you can hear your heels clicking around frantically, thinking for any reason to get out of the room with him, any excuse you could deem plausible, until you end up on something that is undeniably so ordinary, it might even be true

In dire need of a whim of fresh air- a cooling breeze on your skin and definitely, in much more predictable nature, in dire need of a cigarette, you attempt to find him, ask him for a quick smoke break before resuming to the party

When you do find Jimin,it seems somebody familiar also did

Somebody who shouldn't feel magnetic, forcefully pulling you into their space,

Jimin's eye smile upon seeing you catches the two men around him off guard, whipping their heads to your direction swiftly,

his eyes land on yours, you can barely make out jimin's arm extending to wave in slow motion, as your eyes become chained to his,

His gaze becomes devoted to you, with every mindless step you take forward, it feeds he look in his eyes, strengthens the chain you've tangled yourself in with

"hey, where have you been y/n?" he asks, smacking your shoulder in an very unprofessional attempt to make your guy's relationship clear,

Jimin wasn't stupid, even he could feel how tense it had gotten,

"Y/n? Thats a pretty name"

You weren't supposed to know how he pronounces your name, he was destined to stay a fantasy,

"Thank you..?"

"Jungkook"

"you're the one with the nice name, Jungkook"

effortlessly, the syllables of his name roll of your tongue,

It send shivers to his body, jimin's eyes are burning a whole through the side of your face and you know it- you know he's aware how much this wasn't planned-

You weren't supposed to feel attraction like this, not to the intensity that ever movie you had seen creeped back up in a matter of seconds, instantly resuming that hopeful flame to burn once more, igniting not only fear- but need

Your eyes avert to the man in the black suit next to him,

"And your name?"

Jungkook's eyes still haven't left yours, awaiting their turn patiently, a lump in his throat grabbing at all rationality, begging for a chance to speak his mind- tell you that you're an angel- one he must have, must hold

For some strange reason,

Even though jungkook swore love was for the books, not for people like him

And even though a couple minutes of anyone's presence is far too little to utter the word love in the first place, he also knew it was inescapable the second you had granted him a smile

"Taehyung" he answers, sliding his hands into his pockets

"You're from wonder group right?" Jimin asks, returning the conversation back to the nuisance that your lame 9-5 is,

The two guys hum, Jungkook reponds first,

"Yeah. Came here because we were invited by the manager of your media department"

"Well, actually not we specifically were invited, everyone was" Taehyung chimes in,

"Media department? Thats.."

"Me. Wow, what a coincidence"

you freeze after your last statement - thinking foolishly, that meeting him maybe was supposed to happen - maybe when your fingers tiredly typed away at the keyboard when sending your invitation, you had to have laced it with a spell

It confirms what he had thought upon seeing your glow in the crowd of dull faces and grey tints,

Fate, you must be his fate

Jimin taps away at the wine glass in his hand, one you haven't caught notice of since your eyes had been occupied by someone who stood closer than a stranger should feel comfortable with,

In a desperate attempt to do something- anything about this encounter, you shoot jimin a look, a look that says help me, rescue me

"Do you smoke?" he asks, earning a nod from your mysterious soulmate and a very serious "nah" from his friend,

breathless, you manage to let out a small hum

"Let's go for one, tae are you good with waiting here a bit man?" Jungkook suggests, breaching out to ways he never knew he even possessed, ways to get you closer- to get to know a unreasonably familiar stranger no reason

other than having every single reason,

Taehyung nods, quickly, the three of you go outside the big glass door, finding a small spot behind the building to avoid any other, personal space invading collegue that might roam around for small talk

It didn't make sense, not even in the slightest when Jimin disappeared after saying he would go get the lighter he had forgotten, especially not when you had just lit your cigarette with one, perfectly working lighter

Jungkook caught on, laughing slightly at your friends attempt to leave you to a collective solitude, the fresh, 11 pm gust of wind feels like a gentle kiss to the face, almost like what you imagine him to feel like

You shouldn't be imagining that at all,

His head turns away from yours when he takes a drag, pushing the thick nicotine cloud out into the pure night,

You do the same, letting the bitter taste overtake your cherry flavored lip balm,

"Didn't know pretty girls smoke" he says, his deep voice thickly laced with a satoori you haven't remarked until this very sentence,

smiling at his sincerity, you take another drag, "didn't know busan men are this bold"

he doesn't feel like a stranger, far more comfortable than one- far less intimidating

"How did you know?" the small smirk on his lips forms into a gentle, bunny like smile once seeing that dead panned look on your face, merging with a hidden chuckle that manages to dominate your features in the end,

"Your satoori" you answer, watching as his plump lips wrap around the cigarette, he blows the smoke out, "hmm" he says, "do you like it?"

"A lot" truthfully, your answer tumbles out, scanning his response with a longing look on your face, the lit drug burns away between your fingers, forgotten, discarded by a much stronger one that's about 5'10 with an eyebrow piercing

"Glad to hear that, sweetheart " it slips past his lips, naturally yet simultaneously intentional- just like the way he makes sure to lay on his accent nicely

His cigarette bud drops to the floor, he puts it out, then turning to be stood in front of you, smiling softly with a newfound gentleness to his seductive appeal,

"You're beautiful, i mean that. I saw you earlier and i honestly couldn't stop thinking about you. I was going crazy looking for you"

he laughs slightly at the last bit, shyly toying with the metal ring at the corner of his bottom lip, the adrenaline of your sheer beauty and captivating allure overcoming and reluctance he would usually feel held back by, nothing could stop him from talking to the angel he had become keen on,

Your blush deepness, eyes flickering down to his lips, "thank you, i couldn't get my mind off of you either. Didn't know you were looking for me"

his slender fingers reach forward, moving a flowing strand behind your ear with ease before carefully caressing the side of your cheek with his knuckle, tender- soft, as if he had known not to apply pressure to your fragile heart and mind,

"Of course i was. Call me crazy but i swear you were glowing" both of you grin stupidly, you relish in the feeling of his plam flattening against your cheek, embracing it with care- he waited, waited for you to stop him, for you to tell him he's a crazy creep that needs to learn the meaning of a boundary

But you never do, instead, you silently thank him for his honesty, telling yourself he must be your soulmate,

That the television must have been right about love,

your shaky, cold hands lace with his deeply colored hair, fingers dancing between the locs as his breath hitches, getting closer on your face,

your eyes connect briefly, then your lips do too, longer- intertwined with a bond you knew exist from the very first second,

a bond that was so simple it couldn't be explained, so simple, it only took one look to determine it's existance

The nicotine on his lips melts with your cherry lip balm and own, bitter taste, pressing along the soft pillows of your love drunken lips, he thought about love for a moment,

Jungkook now knew that the books were always written about people like him

[iris-qt]

𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞

🪻 ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

🪻 ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

🪻 ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

🪻 ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴏᴜᴛ…ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴜʏꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ!

🪻 ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ ɪꜱ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴛᴏɪᴄ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʟᴍ…ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴇꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴏɴ ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ꜱʜʏ, ʙᴜᴍʙʟɪɴɢ ʙᴏʏ

Perhaps it was your awkward glances. Or maybe the way you’d do something silly like accidentally write the wrong year for today’s date then nervously survey the area as if anyone would notice. If anyone were to notice they’d have to be looking very closely…practically observing you. And that is precisely the gift Theodore Nott had been given as he was sat one bench above you in the DADA classroom his gaze directly hitting your paper and the side of your stressed and contorted face.

Yes this test was difficult but Theodore has studied incessantly for it. You see, Theodore Nott never studies but he had a plan. A plan that he chickened out on last minute.

The night prior he had been sitting in the library waiting for your arrival. He knows you arrive around 8pm right after dinner and quidditch practice. You were about to sit when Theodore Nott appeared in your peripheral with a slight deranged half smile on his face. His face rarely showed emotion but there was something manic in it at the moment per your mental Theo facial expression log.

“Hi Theo, you okay?” you lightly laugh as you see him stumble a bit.

Theodore mentally thanked himself for evading his friends’ questions as to where he heads off to around this time because if they saw the usually stoic Nott stumbling over his feet in front of this girl he’d never hear the end of it.

“Yes…yes I was just wondering if you needed some studying company?”

You smile warmly at him his presence itself warming you up from the cold you had just endure in the November night air while at Quidditch practice.

“I’ll definitely need someone to wake me up in case I fall asleep reading about the theoretical applications of non-verbal spell casting…you’re hired Nott.”

Theo smirks as he sits himself down a bit too close to you. He realizes in a panic and jerks back almost tilting over in his haste if you hadn’t steadied his chair.

“Theo, maybe you should cut down on those cigarettes,” you smirk as a light rouge paints his carved face.

Theo feels like digging a hole in the library ground and burying himself in it away from your hypnotic gaze but, at the same time, he cannot help but bask in it.

Initially his plan was working as he hoped it would. You admitted the things you didn’t know and Theo helped you brush up on it and quizzed you on certain terms. You both had even found some time to laugh and joke about things such as the drawer filled collection of ballerina hair gel Theo had found Draco hoarding in the “forbidden drawer”. They were both becoming comfortable and Theo lost his edge as he melted into your presence. Things went downhill after that as perhaps Theo became a bit too comfortable. As he was watching you read a portion of your textbook…your lips moving in slow motion and your eyebrows scrunched in the most adorable manner…he couldn’t help but mutter under his breath out:

“You’re so cute..”

You perked up as you couldn’t believe your ears. While your brain was immersed in the world of DADA your senses were in high alert within the presence of the boy you adored in silence.

“What did you just say?”

Theo at this point went into full lockdown mode as he slightly jumped exclaiming “I said you look like a boot!!” he blurted out as if that would salvage him in her eyes…her gorgeous, bright eyes.

You looked quite puzzled as you didn’t know exactly what that meant. Perhaps it was the way you had styled your hair? Or done your makeup? His sentence made zero sense and you weren’t quite sure how to feel.

Theo, however, had lost his marbles while he seemed expressionless on the outside his brain was short-circuiting.

“Uh…you know what I think I need to leave to um…use the loo? Yes I wonder what they put in that pumpkin juice because let me just tell you, y/n, it was NOT good…you think the elves are after me?,” he laughs nervously as he quickly slams his book shut attracting the attention of every student in the library as the sound echoes off the shelves.

“Merlin, where’d I get that strength!” he strains out with that same deranged, manic look returning to his face except this time in more volume. Before you could utter a word Theo scrambles out of the library. It takes you a few seconds to piece together what just happened but you eventually stand up leaving your things behind to find Theo. But once you reach the entrance of the library he was long gone…

You had spent a while pondering that occurrence and what he said to you. That night you had laid awake in bed. You were sure he had said you were cute, right? I mean obviously. Theodore had always been jumpy since you had officially met him that one day in 5th year in Potions as you two were partners. He was quiet yet endearing and you had fallen instantly. The only problem was your adoration for him had always felt like a dead end. As shy as he seemed Theo got around and to be fair you’d never felt like you had a chance…were you blind? No of course not. You were realistic…right?

And so we return to the day of the test and Theo who had finished 20 minutes early due to his vast knowledge he has filled his privileged brain with simply for, well, you. You were his everything. You had stolen the very air he breathed from the moment you slid in next to him in Potions. You held his breath captive and he simply couldn’t act human next to you. You loosened him up more than any of his expensive Italian cigarettes could. He was addicted.

After class Theo had begun his walk to his next class when he heard his favorite voice calling his name. God if he could only record your voice in one of those muggle devices. Mental note to buy one of those next time he secretly visited muggle London. He slowly spun around gripping his messenger bag for dear life for he could feel himself becoming light headed already.

“I think I had an aneurysm taking that test,” you laugh indulging in Theo’s dazed expression as it fuels your confidence. “I just wanted to tell you that you look cute..” you purposefully mumble the last part so that Theo could barely catch your words.

Theo’s heart soared and dropped and did somersaults all at the same time when he heard your words. “Wh-what?”

“I said you look like a grapefruit!” you yell falling into a fit of laughter as Theo gazes at you looking dumbstruck.

“I think this is the part I run away,” you quip raising your eyebrow at him playfully

“No I think this is the part I shake myself out of it and just ask the girl of my dreams on a date,” Theo breathes out attempting to recover from his actions the day before

You put your hand above your eyes as if shielding them from the sun as you stare into the distance. “Where is she? Can I meet her?” you bite back your laughter, gazing up at Theo’s watercolor eyes alive with the most tender of emotions.

Theo laughs shaking his head hesitantly removing your hand from your face and clasping it in his as if it were a rare jewel he has been searching for for decades and had finally found it. As if you were his life’s work finally accomplished.

“Look no further, y/n, she’s standing right here.”

[spideyjimin]

wrong time | jjk

⤷ part of the timing series 

⏤ pairing: jungkook x female reader

⏤ genre: parent au, exes to lovers, ceo au, angst, fluff, and smut

⏤ rating: 18+

⏤ warnings: dilf!jungkook, tattooed!jungkook, swearing, mention of breakup, mention of jk being a fuckboy, broken hearts, nervousness, communication issues, mention of going through a dark period, oc wasn’t really nice, mention of sickness, mention of the hard side of parenthood, jk and oc are workalcoholics, the closure conversation, mention of sex, mention of death, mention of grief, mention of cheating,  sexual tension, dom!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, nipple play, pet names, penetrative sex, protected sex, rough sex, and creampie

⏤ words: 13,986

⏤ summary: meeting ten years later the girl he deeply fell in love with is something Jungkook never thought would happen. But here you are, standing before his eyes with a bright smile on your face as you walk through the massive lobby of his company. At that exact moment, he realizes that the two of you fell in love at the wrong time but is now the right time?  

⏤ author’s note: wrong time is finally all yours! i actually can’t believe it’s finally posted after almost a year of work! but it also makes me incredibly happy to release it. the past year has been a crazy year and this fic is a reflection of all that. most of the things mentioned in the fic are things that i experienced so this makes wrong time even more special to my heart 💞 i really want to thank my nikki @xpeachesncream​ for her support, i know i couldn’t have done it without her! 💞 enjoy the fic & let me know what you thought of it!💞 

MASTERLIST

A bright smile spreads across Jungkook’s face as he stares down at his five years old daughter, Arya. In the past ten years, he has made quite a lot of mistakes but Arya will forever remain his best mistake.

“Have a wonderful day, my little queenie,” he says while kneeling down at his daughter’s level.

His smile grows wider when his eyes linger a little longer on the small human being that he adores with his entire soul. She looks extremely tiny in her navy blue dress and with her massive backpack. Arya doesn’t get to choose what she wears when she goes to school, she has her uniform. So outside school, her father lets her pick whatever she wants to dress.

“You too, dadda,” she says before throwing her minuscule body into Jungkook’s arms.

Having his daughter in his arms is what truly brings warmth and happiness to his broken soul. For this, he’d sell his soul to the devil, and for her, he’d fight every battle. Well, honestly speaking, he has been battling his own demons since the moment he found out he’d become a father. He never wanted her daughter to have an absent or mentally sick father. He wanted to be present for her from the beginning.

“Tonight mommy will pick you up, and you’ll stay with her for the week, okay?”

Jungkook is the CEO of Jeon Industries, the company he built from ashes seven years ago. Due to his extremely busy schedule, he only gets to spend the weekends with his daughter. Every monday morning, he drops her at school before passing by her mother’s house to drop her things off, and then, he goes to work.

“Yes, dadda, I know,” she says with a nod.

The only thing he deeply regrets is offering this family dynamic to his daughter. She always lives in between two houses, and only spends the weekdays with her mother and the weekends with her father. He wished to give her the same family he grew up in, but despite that, he knows that his little baby is very happy which is the most important for him.

“If anything happens, you ask mommy to call me, okay princess?”

The little girl nods once more before newly squeezing her father in her arms.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be with mama,” she simply replies.  

Eunji, Arya’s mother has become a great friend of Jungkook, and he knows that she’ll take good care of his tiny princess. But he’s always scared something might happen to her. A life without her is something he doesn’t want to imagine. A little over six years ago, he wouldn’t even be able to imagine himself becoming a father but today, it is the other way around. This little girl has brought so much light into his life. A light he never thought he’d find.

“Bye, dadda,” she says before pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

A small smile appears on his face while he turns around and stands up to look at his little girl walking to the school’s entrance. His eyes don’t leave her tiny figure until she reaches her school and disappears from his field of vision. At that moment, he feels a little twinge in his heart. He’ll deeply miss Arya for the next few days, but that’s the way it is.

The only way to spend every single day with her is to get into a relationship with her mother, but ever since he met her, he has never loved her. There’s only one woman he ever loved. It’s the one that got away. You. Even after those past ten years, he’s still not over you. And to be honest, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over you. The void you left inside his heart is tremendous and nobody, except you, will ever be able to fill it.  

After a couple of minutes of standing in front of his daughter’s school, he walks to his car with his hands in his suit pants’ pockets. With his head down, he tries to wipe away the fact that he already misses his daughter and that he still misses you after all this time. Some years ago, he believed that by now he would have had his life together but he’s still as lost as he was after the breakup.

Things are for sure different because he has Arya and he’s used to living with this sadness. He has also become the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the country. He has also stopped being a fuckboy, he tries to find someone that’ll want to spend the rest of their life with him but it’s not easy when he compares all the girls to his old lover. None of them actually stand a chance.

His phone rings, causing him to remove it from his pocket. The name of his assistant is appearing on the screen, and without thinking, he picks up the call. It’s always important when Davy calls him.

“Hey Davy,” he says as he answers the call.

“Hello, Mr. Jeon,” the man on the other side of the call says, “Mr. Kim is here and wants to speak with you urgently.”

A deep sight leaves his lips. Kim Taehyung is his best scientist. Without this man, Jeon Industries wouldn’t have grown as much as it has over the past three years. So if he wants to speak with him urgently, it must be extremely important.

“I’m on my way,” he simply answers.

Today, he was planning on taking the morning off to rest a bit. The past few months have been extremely crazy with the expansion of Jeon Industries but when you’re a CEO, you actually never get to rest. There’s always something.

The call directly ends and Jungkook doesn’t waste one more minute before rushing to his car to get to his company as soon as possible. A million ideas run through his mind as he drives to his office. There are a lot of possible urgent matters to discuss.

However, he doesn’t want to start imagining the worst-case scenario so he turns the music up. Music is his getaway, the way he found to escape how empty he feels every day, the way he found to cheer himself up to find the courage to hide from everyone how broken he truly is. Usually, being with Arya also helps him to feel better.

Work is also his escapism but lately, he’s been trying to live more and work less. He’s been also considering trying to find a new arrangement with Eunji in order to spend a day with Arya during the week. Or to even completely change the arrangement. Spending more time with his little girl is his top priority, he just needs to figure out things first. Plus, changing the arrangement would completely turn Arya’s life upside down, and he doesn’t want to do that before being sure that his busy schedule can be rearranged.

In less than twenty minutes, Jungkook reaches the massive building sheltering Jeon Industries. He parks his car in the company’s underground parking before quickly jumping out of the car and walking to the elevator. This first elevator only goes to the first floor which is the main entrance of his company. Then, he’ll have to walk a bit to reach the other elevator that will bring him to his office.

Once he reaches the first floor, he crosses it, his eyes scanning the people in the room. As usual, it is crowded with workers. While looking at every face, he recognizes a familiar one. A face he wished he had forgotten. A face that has been haunting him night and day for the past ten years. A face that made his heart beat faster. Well, in fact, his heart is actually going completely crazy right now.

Jungkook halts to take a proper look at that face he never thought he would ever see again. That face is yours, the lover he lost years ago. He rubs his eyes, wanting to make sure that he’s not dreaming. Tiredness can make him imagine things, especially when it comes to you. But after rubbing his eyes, you’re still there, talking to a person next to you and smiling.

Meeting ten years later the girl he deeply fell in love with is something Jungkook never thought would happen. But here you are, standing before his eyes with a bright smile on your face as you walk through the massive lobby of his company.

His heart breaks a little because it is so unfortunate that he gets to see you here and now. Since he has to rush to his office to discuss whatever he has to with Taehyung, he won’t have the time to at least say hi to you. Something he would like to do. His eyes follow you as you disappear into the lobby with that person.

He wishes he was the reason behind your smile.

The past month has been an incredible one for you.  

You joined Jeon Industries as a scientist which is more than an honor for you. This company is one of the biggest at the moment, and for sure, it’s a privilege to be working amongst the most talented scientists in the country. Being there for the past month has been rewarding.

But outside that, you’ve been feeling extremely proud of Jungkook. He has built this entire empire from ashes and he did it so well. The company is well known in South Korea and very slowly, it is getting known worldwide. People are fighting to get a job here, you’ve seen it when you were applying for your current job. This is bigger than what he ever dreamed of or at least, bigger than what he told you about.

You still remember how he used to talk about his project of creating his little company. He’d spent hours imagining how it would be to start a business, how it would be to find the first employee, how it’d be to do experiences, and also, how it would simply feel to run a firm. His head was full of dreams that he would constantly share with you. You assume that he must feel like he has achieved everything in life.

A little smile appears on your face as you remember the old times. It isn’t always all rainbows and sunshine but there wasn’t any doubt that you both loved each other. Falling in love with him was absolutely wonderful. You’d fall in love all over again just to experience that strong feeling again.

For sure, since Jungkook, you got other boyfriends and you even got engaged. However, falling for them was never as close as falling for Jungkook. It was even far from that but it doesn’t change that it was still beautiful. Love is an incredible life experience, something you’d fight for every single day of your life. You even got a tattoo of the word “love” in japanese on your shoulder.

Right now, you’re walking to a meeting room with your team. Kim Taehyung, the director of your department, wants to have a little meeting. Probably to discuss the new project or probably to discuss the last project’s results.

Soon enough, everyone enters the meeting room. To your surprise, Taehyung is already there, patiently waiting for the team to arrive. But what really surprises you is the person sitting next to Taehyung. Jeon Jungkook. They are both talking, a little smile on the big boss’ face.

Instantly, your heart starts hammering in your chest, ready to burst at any moment. Although you hoped never to meet him here, you knew it was in vain. This is his fucking company. This is all his, including you. There was no way you’d never see him.

As you get closer to both men, you take in the man you once loved with all your soul. To say that he hasn’t changed would be a complete lie. He still looks the same but he’s a very different man. Slowly, his face turns to meet you. Unlike you, he doesn’t seem surprised to see you entering the meeting room.

When your eyes meet, you feel like it becomes obvious to everyone that your heart is about to explode while Jungkook’s expression becomes more serious. It is almost as if he’s becoming cold but you can’t really tell because in ten years a person can change a lot. So maybe he’s simply normal right now.

As you look at him, it feels like time has completely stopped. Your heart is beating way too strongly in your chest, your hands are getting sweaty, and you purse your lips. Right now, as you’re standing in front of Jungkook, you’re starting to regret working here. For sure, it’s very prestigious but the CEO is your damn ex. Having to face him will for sure be extremely hard.

“Hey everyone,” Taehyung says with a little smile appearing on his face.

With those words, your eyes move from Jungkook to Taehyung. Your thoughts are focused again on work, not the man who owns this company.

“Thanks, everyone for coming,” he pursues.  

The director keeps on talking, explaining the last project you all worked on and its results. Your heart swells with pride when he explains the results and shows the good work of your team. As you deeply listen to your superior, you completely forget that Jungkook is even here. Work has always been your safe place. For sure, it shouldn’t be but it is what has helped you to get yourself together and to overcome your devastating breakup. A breakup that you caused.

Truth be told, you never wanted to end things with Jungkook but you needed it. This relationship brought so much crap to the surface, and you were in a very dark place. To be honest, you didn’t want to deal with your ex because everything was so overwhelming so you pushed him away. You never wanted to hurt him but in the end, that’s exactly what you did. Before even ending things, you were already pushing him away, you were always finding an excuse to not spend time with him. Back then, you discovered that you were good at finding excuses.

But you did wrong.

For sure, you could have talked with him. You could have communicated what was going on with him and even today, you know that he would have helped you. He would have remained by your side until you felt better. But you didn’t want that because you knew he deserved better. Well, that’s what you have been repeating yourself for the past years. But was it really the truth? Was he really better off without you?

Honestly, that’s something you’ll never know because you chose to walk away. You chose to be the one that got away. You didn’t choose to stay and fight your inner demons with him by your side. You chose to do it on your own, and eventually, you tried to replace the void he created in your heart with other guys. Only, it never worked because you were damaged, deeply damaged.

It only got better when you decided to work on yourself and make things work for yourself. For the past six years, you’ve been doing tremendous work on yourself. It’s never easy but you’ve found peace within yourself. Even if you’d like to credit yourself for that bravery, it was actually your ex-fiancé who opened your eyes.

Kangdae entered your life when everything was only chaos. You never thought it would work between you two but through that chaos, he was the light at the end of the tunnel. He showed you how broken you were and that you could get some help, that there wouldn’t be any shame to do so. He held your hand when you were completely shattered. Not once did he give up on you. Not once did he accept that you would break up with him.

Eventually, with time, you started healing with Kang by your side. After three years of relationship, he proposed to you but it was obvious that you had some more healing to do. Neither of you wanted to rush the marriage. So you took your time.

However, you never got married to him.

As you started healing fully, things slowly fell apart. The love between you and Kang didn’t die but it changed into something different. It wasn’t romantic love anymore, it was more a friendship love. So you both agreed to cancel the wedding but Kang stayed in your life. He’s your friend now.

He’s also the reason why you’re sitting in this meeting room at Jeon Industries. Even though you really wanted to apply, you were very insecure because you knew the chances to meet Jungkook were high. Kang encouraged you to still take the risk since it will be such an asset for you and your career to work at your ex’s company.

For a brief moment, your eyes move from Taehyung to Jungkook. It feels unreal to be standing in front of him so many years later. Never have you thought you’d see him again because of the way you broke his heart. Nobody deserves to be hurt that way. Your heart aches as your eyes quickly gaze at your ex, the overwhelming pain causes you to look away.

The entire meeting goes well, both Taehyung and Jungkook are extremely proud of your team’s achievement. You’re also extremely proud of your hard work, it has definitely paid off. Nothing makes you happier than your superior and the big boss complimenting your effort.

Once the meeting is over, everybody stands up and gets ready to leave the room.

“Miss y/l/n, would you please stay?” The deep voice of Jungkook resonates in the small room.

You turn around to look at the man who just spoke. Your hands start shaking, your heart suddenly beats fast. You simply nod while your eyes scan the room, watching all your coworkers leave the room. Taehyung closes the door after looking at the two of you. He wonders what the CEO would want to discuss with you. To his knowledge, Jungkook wasn’t aware of your existence until an hour ago.

For a solid minute, none of you says a thing. You avoid looking at him while he takes the time to admire the woman you have become. There’s absolutely no doubt that you have changed. You’re a lot more frail than you were back then, and to be honest, Jungkook prefers the way you looked before. But he’s aware that things have changed and a lot of time passed.

“Mr. Jeon…” you start saying but he cuts you off.

“Jungkook, please,” he says.

There’s no way he’s letting you call him Mr. Jeon.

“Jungkook,” you correct yourself, “how can I help you?”

His eyes move to the massive screen hanging on the wall to his right. Now, yours are looking at him. Jungkook has changed considerably. The black tight suit he’s wearing is very different from the blue jeans and sweater he used to wear. Under that black suit jacket, he’s wearing a grey shirt. By the looks of it, he also seems to be a lot more muscular. His strong arm lifts up to run his fingers through his hair.

That is a clear sign that he’s nervous, an old habit he didn’t lose. A deep sigh leaves his lips, and you can’t help but smile. Even though he looks different, some of his old habits haven’t changed.

“Since we weren’t alone during this meeting, I just wanted to take the time to say ‘hi’ to you in person,” he nervously says.

Your heart gets warmer as you hear his words. This comes as a total surprise to you. You were expecting Jungkook to ignore you and even to treat you like shit but right now, he’s being extremely nice.

“Thanks Jungkook,” you say, “hi to you as well,” a little smile appears on your face.

Although Jungkook was kind of a fuckboy when you met him long ago, he had the biggest heart you’d ever met. The simple fact that he wanted to say hi to you shows that his heart is still as big or maybe even bigger.

“It’s weird to have you as one of my employees but I promise that I’ll try not to make things awkward,” he adds.

“I’ll try as well,” you reply.

The man in front of you finally looks at you. A smile appears on his face.

“Thanks,” he says.

You simply nod, a weird smile displaying on your face. Even though you don’t feel awkward, it still feels weird to be in this meeting room alone with your ex. The one whose heart you broke.

“I have to go,” he adds, “it was a pleasure to see you.”

The CEO of the company leaves the meeting room in silence. You take a moment to get yourself together before doing the same. Today was definitely an emotionally intense day but hopefully, things will only get easier from now on.

But you couldn’t be more wrong.

“So you’ve seen Jk?” your best friend Lux says.

Lux has been your best friend since you were 18. She actually appeared in your life at the same time as Jungkook, she was in the front row when you were flirting and when you started dating a couple of months later. She’s been a very important person in your life, she’s been there through the very dark periods. Without her support, you’re not sure you would have made it.

“It’s Jungkook,” you correct her.

Jk is too personal, there’s no way that you’ll call him that way. Plus, he’s your boss now so it’s preferable to keep things professional.

“And yes, I’ve seen him and I even spoke with him,” you add.

She definitely looks surprised because she never thought you’d speak again. Lux remained in contact with Jungkook following the breakup, they were friends as well and she knows how broken he has been since then. She thought that he wouldn’t speak to you at all after what happened.

“We had a meeting about the project I worked on,” you simply say.

For a moment, you consider not telling her that he said ‘hi’ but it’s not a good idea to lie or keep secrets to your best friend. Eventually, she’ll find out about it so it’s preferable to tell her everything right now.

“And afterward, he asked me to stay to simply say ‘hi’,” you continue.

She actually cannot believe what she’s hearing.

“Jk said hi to you?” she surprisingly asks.

“Yeah, I can’t believe it as well but that’s exactly what happened,” you reply.

The two of you keep talking about that for a little while but the conversation quickly changes to something different. Honestly, you don’t really want to talk about the past and the biggest mistake you probably did. Lux got it without you having to say it, and you’re thankful she understands it. Also talking again about Jungkook would be torture for her as well. After the breakup, she was the one being there for you, she was the one picking up every single shattered piece of your heart and trying to mend it with her love.

You had the toughest conversations with her, she was the one putting you in front of what you did and she never spared you. As she was still in contact with Jungkook she knew how he was but she never said anything to you. There was no point in telling you how devastated he was. She just made sure you understood how big of a mess you made.

But even if you broke Jungkook’s heart, you knew ⏤ and still know ⏤ that it was the best decision to end things. You did what you thought was the best for you back then. People can call you selfish but in the end, it was better that way. God only knows what you could have done if you stayed. Probably you would have broken Jungkook’s heart even more by staying.

However, karma is a bitch. Eventually, Jungkook later broke your heart as well. The day that it happened was the day when Lux told you that he was going to become a father. That day, you wanted to reach him and try to save things. Imagining him becoming the father of that child that wasn’t yours was devastating. It brought you back to all the moments when you discussed having children, what would be the name of your first girl or first boy, what they would possibly look like physically, or even their personalities.  

Then, the second heartbreak was the day his daughter was born. Her name was Arya, the name you had chosen together for your daughter. That moment, you deeply regretted every single decision you took from the moment Jungkook came into your life.

Although Lux saw how broken you were when you found out about Arya, she found it absolutely beautiful that he chose that name for his baby girl. She was the living proof that he was still in love with you, that you were still on his mind. She believed that he was completely crazy to give that little girl the name he chose with his ex. Luckily, he wasn’t dating the mother otherwise she would have all the reasons to leave him.

Lux slips a sheet of paper on the table. While taking it, you frown with confusion. It seems a bit sneaky but for sure, if she’s doing it, it’s something important. You read what’s written on the paper. There’s an address but you don’t know where it is or what could be there.

“What is this?” you question her.

“It’s Jk’s address,” she responds.  

Although she hasn’t remained super friends with your ex, she has been at his place, and he has been part of her life. You’re aware of it, she never hid anything from you because there’s no point. She’s been in between even though she stayed more your friend than his. She’s deeply sorry about how things ended because things were great when you were together.

“He already took the first step and talked to you,” she starts explaining. “Now, it’s your turn to gather your courage and have the conversation you were supposed to have years ago.”

Well, after your breakup, you avoided at all costs talking to him when he was begging to have a conversation. The famous closure conversation. But you denied him that right for the past ten years which wasn’t cool of you. He didn’t deserve that, you were a real bitch but you were hurt. Hurt people hurt others. You were convinced things would be a hundred times better if you wouldn’t speak and see each other.

“Tell him everything, explain yourself so both of you can move on and have a great professional relationship,” she adds.

Slowly your hands start shaking as you read the address in the paper you’re holding. The thought of having a real and deep conversation with him scares you but Lux is right. More than anything else, Jungkook deserves it. He deserves to know the full truth, to know what led you to hurt him the way you did.

Of course, you contemplated so many times talking to him but you never found the courage within yourself to do it. But maybe now is the time.

“I’ll think about it,” you tell her.

For sure, you need some time to think about everything. You can’t knock at his door tomorrow and start venting about the reasons you broke up ten years ago. It’s not fair for him nor to yourself. You need to think and consider how to formulate every thought that has been on your mind for the past years.

You fold the paper to put it in your bag. There’s no doubt that for the next couple of days and probably even weeks, you’ll keep staring at it thinking about the right thing to do.

“How’s your little man doing?” you ask your best friend to completely change the topic of conversation.

Lux became the mother of John four months ago. She’s half-korean and half-english, and a couple of years ago, while on holiday in England, she met Henry. They started a long-distance relationship, and she considered moving to England because she was madly in love with him, but in the end, he decided to move to South Korea. They moved in together, and shortly after, she got pregnant. They decided to keep the baby and to make you the godmother. Little John has been a blessing in your life.

“I think he’s getting sick, he’s a little bit warmer today but Henry is staying with him right now so if anything happens, he’ll call me,” she says.

“Why didn’t you say that earlier?” you ask with surprise. “Go home, right now, Lux, or I kick you in the ass!” you almost yell.

How can that woman be here talking with you when she believes her little boy is sick.

“It’s okay,” she says, “Henry has everything under control, he’s also his father, and I could use some time out of home with you.”  

You frown, wondering if your best friend is doing well. Becoming a parent is something huge, but Lux has been handling things great so far, even though she never hid that it’s hard.

“I’m okay,” she adds when she notices your expression, “but I just want to breathe a bit.”

You nod, partially understanding what she means. You don’t have a kid so you can’t exactly understand what she’s feeling however you can imagine how it feels. You’ve seen how she’s been doing since your little godson arrived. She’s been extremely tired although very happy. It’s obviously very hard for her and most of the time, you don’t know how to help her.

Of course, you sometimes take care of John so she can rest a bit more or spend some time with Henry. Sometimes, you surprisingly appear at her place to help her out with whatever she needs. You can’t do much but you try to be there. That’s pretty much all you can do.

“If you need me to help you out with John…”

Her phone starts ringing, cutting you off. That’s Henry. But he doesn’t come with great news. He had taken John to the hospital because his condition was getting worse.

Lux immediately stands up, waves you goodbye, and rushes to her car to join her men. Since you were on a terrace, you paid for both your orders before leaving the place.

It was good to talk to her today, especially after seeing Jungkook at work some days ago. It has been on your mind since you’ve seen him. It was weird to see him and even have a little chat with him. But now, you’re even more sure that it wouldn’t be a one-time thing. You’ll for sure speak with him once more which is probably going to cause more sleepless nights because all you can think about is Jungkook. Hopefully, once you’ll talk, you’ll be able to sleep better and move on from all this.  

Once again, you couldn’t be more wrong.

Jungkook has spent the last month not sleeping properly. His ex ⏤ you ⏤ has been haunting him even more than usual so he’s been a total mess. His brain is on fire, he can’t even think correctly. Arya has been his escape because work couldn’t be anymore. He’s been working more from home, avoiding coming to the office as much as possible. Exceptionally, Eunji has agreed to let her daughter spend more time with Jungkook.

Today is no exception, he worked from home. He just arrived home with Arya, he picked her up. Eunji enjoyed the fact that Jungkook has been more with her daughter to take some holidays. So now and for the next week, Arya will spend all her time with her daddy. She couldn’t be happier.

Arya and her father are currently eating pancakes that they prepared together. All this time with his daughter has been filling his heart. In a way, seeing you again has brought something so special to him. A lot of time with his baby. However, he’s totally aware that one day, he’ll have to physically go back to work. But only when he’ll sleep a bit more.

His eyes never cease to watch his little girl. He’s very lucky to have her, she brings so much happiness into his life. For sure, he would trade anything for moments like these.

“Daddy,” Arya starts saying. “My friends have a mommy and a daddy in the same house. Why you and mommy are not in the same house?”

He has a twinge in his heart. This is such a heartbreaking question but he knew that one day, this question would come. Probably, throughout the years, his daughter will raise questions about the fact that he’s not dating or even married to Eunji. But what concerns him, even more, is when he’ll start his life with someone else. One day, he’ll date someone. A person important enough that he’ll introduce to his daughter. There’s even a possibility that he’ll have children with that person. What would happen then with Arya? Would she be jealous of her siblings because they would have both their parents in a relationship while her parents don’t love each other in a romantic way?

“You know, baby,” he starts saying while thinking about the right words to use. “Usually when a mommy and a daddy live in the same house, it’s because they are in love like they are a girlfriend and a boyfriend but your mommy and I are not in love that way. I like your mommy but not in the way to be her boyfriend.”

The only person he has ever loved that way is you, but he totally lost you when you ran away like a thief. Eunji is somebody that he deeply cherishes but he’ll never be in love with her.

“Oh, it makes sense,” she says with a smile on her face. “But you not want mommy to be your girlfriend?”

Now, he’s the one having a little smile on his face. She’s definitely trying to understand the situation at a very young age, but that doesn’t mean she wants her parents to be like every other parent. Jungkook’s mom has already told him a million times that he doesn’t have to be worried about all this. The normal for Arya is having her parents in 2 different houses and not being in a relationship. For the moment, she’s just very young but she feels safe in this situation because he always made sure with Eunji that everything works well and that she feels loved all the time.

“No, baby,” he answers.

She nods, and he knows that she understands everything. It’s such a relief that she was just asking to understand.

“When mommy is back?” She asks.

“Next week and until there, you’ll always be with me,” he replies.

“Mommy will call us?” She questions.

Eunji has been calling every day to see her little girl. Even though she’s enjoying her holidays with her boyfriend ⏤ a boyfriend Arya isn’t aware of ⏤, she misses her baby every second of the day. She’s her mother, she carried her for nine months before bringing her to the world.

“Of course, she will,” he answers, “and if we don’t get a call before you go to bed, we’ll call her, okay?”

She nods before eating a bit of her Minnie Mouse-shaped pancake. She loves shaped pancakes and Jungkook always does them in the way she wants. If she wants regular pancakes, that’s definitely a sign to get worried.

The two of them keep eating pancakes while discussing all the interesting things Arya did at school today. She always speaks with such enthusiasm about what she did, she adores going to school and learning new things. Both Jungkook and Eunji believe she’s precocious. She’s extremely smart for her age but they try to not force her into anything. She does whatever she wants and they support her no matter what she decides. The most important thing is her happiness.

Once they are done eating, she goes to her little room to play with her little toys. Jungkook goes back to the desk that was set up in one of the empty rooms of his massive mansion. He turns on his computer and quickly checks the last unread emails he received. There are quite a few but that’s totally normal.

After a couple of minutes, his bodyguard knocks at the door.

“There’s a certain y/n at the door,” he says.

Jungkook’s heart stops and his entire body freezes. What on earth are you doing here? And how did you find out where he lives? This is honestly something he didn’t expect to arrive. He’s been avoiding being at work to not see you in person, however, he’s been checking every email you sent and he’s been also following very closely your progress at work. His mind has been even more flooded than usual by you.

“Thanks, Jin,” he adds before standing up.

The CEO of Jeon Industries rearranges his shirt and takes a quick glance at the mirror. He swapped his usual costume for a white t-shirt and jeans. When he’s at home, he just likes to feel comfortable like anyone else. There’s no need to put expensive clothes on to simply stay at home.

As he nervously walks to the entrance door, he thinks about all the possible reasons that would explain your presence here. Nothing really comes up to his mind which makes him even more nervous. Once in front of the door, he takes a deep breath and opens it.

You’re right there, standing in front of the door. Since he has seen you again, Jungkook has noticed that you now wear makeup. It wasn’t the case before, you used to prefer the natural look and he was kind of a fan of it. He used to find you astonishingly courageous for not using any makeup when most people wouldn’t dare go out without at least foundation on their face.

But as he’s watching you, he realizes once more how the two of you have changed since the last time you saw each other. A lot of time has passed since you both broke up. It even felt that it was a lifetime ago that he was part of your history.

“Hi, y/n,” he says with a little smile appearing on his face.

“Hello Jungkook,” you say.

None of you says anything which creates a little awkward tension.

“Sorry for coming out of nowhere, I just wanted to talk with you if it’s possible,” you explain.

Jungkook simply nods before opening the door wider to let you in. After a second of hesitation, you enter the massive mansion that he owes. This man has for sure achieved all of his dreams, there are absolutely no doubts about it. The two of you walk to his cozy living room, it looks smaller than what you imagined but it’s still pretty huge for a living room.

“Do you want to drink or eat something?” he asks.

“No, thanks,” you simply answer.

Well, you only came here to finally have that deep conversation with him. It took you one long month to decide to come but you’re finally here. You only want to go straight to the point. As you look around, you notice a lot of pictures of him with a little girl. That must be Arya, you think. Damn, you had forgotten about her. What if she’s here? For sure, you don’t want her to hear your conversation. You ignore totally how it will go. Maybe you’ll start yelling or crying. You don’t want her to find her father in such a state.

“Is your daughter here?” you question.

Your ex only nods.

“Maybe, I shouldn’t have come,” you respond. “Your time with your daughter is precious.”

Jungkook couldn’t agree more but having a conversation with you is probably something he’ll only get once in his life. His daughter, he’ll get to see her right after and then for the rest of his life. Right now, speaking with you seems more important than anything else. He’s been waiting for so long to have a conversation with you and tell you what he’s been feeling.

“I was working,” he immediately tells you, “she’s playing in her little room.”

A little smile appears on your face as you imagine the little girl in the pictures playing. She definitely looks adorable based on what you can see in the living room, and she must look even more adorable in person. You never got to see pictures of her since Lux told you that Jungkook became a father because you didn’t want to see the baby of your ex.

“We can speak,” he adds.

Well, if he says that you can speak, then you have no other choice than to do it. You nod and he invites you to take a seat on the couch. As you sit down, you feel your body slowly trembling. To say that you’re nervous is an understatement. You’re going to have a conversation with your ex, a conversation you were supposed to have ten years ago.

But what scares you the most is that this discussion will bring up all the things that broke you years ago. It’s true that throughout that time, you got to see a therapist and work through everything but it’s still different. You’re going to tell your ex why you left him.

“How did you find out where I was living?”

“Lux gave me your address,” you tell him, “she’s the one who pushed me to come talk to you.”

In the end, she was right. Jungkook took the first step and talked to you in the meeting room so now it’s your turn to make the second step. The past month, you’ve been thinking about it a lot and he deserves to know everything, even if it’s ten years later.

“So we’re lucky to have her in our lives,” he simply responds.

For sure, you’re more than lucky to have her. She’s your rock. However, you totally ignore what she represents to him because she doesn’t really talk about the relationship she has with him. Something that you have been really thankful for.

“Indeed,” you say while nodding.

Your eyes quickly scan the man sitting in front of you. A part of his tattooed sleeve is noticeable as he’s wearing a white t-shirt. This is something completely new to you. Back when you were dating, Jungkook only had one tattoo, his first. The part of his tattooed arm that you can see looks actually very good, it definitely suits him very well. But what really captivates all your attention is how broader he has become. You can perfectly see his toned figure. There’s no doubt that he has been working out a lot for the past years.

“I first wanted to apologize for everything, including how I treated you before we broke up and following the breakup,” you start saying.

Jungkook nods with a very serious look on his face. “I appreciate it,” he says. He bites his lower lip, holding back what he really wants to say but then, he remembers that there’s absolutely no point in holding back what he’s been dreaming to tell you since the breakup. “But a simple apology ten years later can’t brush away all the pain you put me through.”

At his words, your heart breaks even more. It’s one thing to imagine and believe that you deeply hurt him but it’s totally another thing to hear him say it. But you deserve to hear that. Before you weren’t strong enough to hear it but now you are. Well, it’s definitely going to hurt but you’ll be able to handle it better.

“I know but you still deserve an apology for everything I did to you,” you answer. “You didn’t deserve any of this and I’m sincerely and deeply sorry.”

This is something you truly mean. You’re perfectly aware that you did things completely wrong so before anything else, he deserves to hear that you’re sorry.

Jungkook runs his fingers through his hair while closing for a brief moment his eyes. He never thought that he’d hear those words one day and he definitely never thought he’d need to hear them. His life moved on even though he didn’t get to have your apology. Right now, it feels like he’s being violently pushed back in the past but he definitely needs this moment. He needs to understand what happened ten years ago.

Even though he loves Lux with his entire soul, he refused to put her in an awkward position and never asked her anything. Of course, he’s aware that she knows everything but it wouldn’t have been nice of him to ask her anything about you. The person who needed to explain what happened was you. Nobody else but you.  

“You broke me, yn,” he says with a shaky voice. “You broke me in a way nobody else did before and in a way nobody else ever did after you.”

Although you broke him, he still feels safe near you to tell you the full truth. You’re the only person that has ever made him feel that way and he knows he’ll never find this with anyone else.

Your eyes roam at his face, he’s definitely devastated. He can’t fool anyone, it’s written in his eyes. That definitely destroys you even more. This conversation will for sure leave his print in you. There’s no way that after this your life will be the same.

“My daughter is living proof of how much you destroyed me,” his eyes stare deep into yours. “I wanted to forget my own pain and the only way I could was to fuck any girl who would want it. I don’t even remember the day Arya was made because I was completely blinded by my heartache.”

The fact that he can’t remember the day his daughter was conceived made him cry a lot of times. In those moments, he deeply hates you because if you had never broken him that way, he would remember. But then he rationalizes. Without the breakup and the pain, his daughter wouldn’t even exist.  

“Even today the ache is still unbearable but I got used to it,” he finishes.

Well, it’s the same for you. There’s been so much pain in your life for more than ten years but with time, you got used to it. There were also people that eased it in some way but it has never left you.

“I’m so sorry for everything,” you say once again, “but I was in so much pain back then, and I thought it was best to push you away.”

Jungkook’s heart breaks a little because he knows a bit about what happened. Well, he actually knows the thing that tormented you but he also doesn’t have the full picture.

“My sister‘s death devastated me,” you start saying.

At your words, his heart breaks a little more. Jungkook had the opportunity to meet your sister, he got to be around her and create memories with her. She was a beautiful person, she was funny, full of life and always smiling. Tragically, she lost her life in a terrible car accident with her boyfriend. He still remembers when you got the news, he was the one holding you when you fell on the floor, when your world fell apart. After that moment, you never were the same. To say that it broke you is more than an understatement. A part of you stopped shining as before following the passing of your sister.

“My heart was violently ripped from my chest,” tears start forming in your eyes. “I didn’t know who I was without her, I didn’t know how to keep living without her. Going home without her being there anymore was heartbreaking, I’d fall apart every single time.”

Remembering that very dark period is hard for the two of you. Mourning your sister has been a very long process, it took you years before you were able to speak about her without falling apart. Exceptionally, being with Jungkook makes you vulnerable and it’s making it hard to remember that time of your life.

“Although you were there, I wanted to do my grieving on my own because it was mine,” you tell him. “It was overwhelming but it was my pain, not yours so I was the one who needed to learn to live with it because nobody could do that for me.”

Even if you loved him with your entire soul and knew he’d always be by your side, this was something you needed to do by yourself. Having Jungkook by your side was just distracting you, it was making you forget the pain but you weren’t allowing yourself to feel which was what you needed.

“So I started pushing you back because with you around me, I would just think about you and how you were feeling, I wasn’t focusing on myself.”

Despite the fact that it hurts him that you pushed him away a few months after the tragic death of your sister, today he gets why you did it. He wanted to be there and help you when you needed it the most but he’s understanding that it was your grief and you needed to figure out on your own how to deal with it.  

“Around that time, I don’t know if you recall but I kissed a guy at a party,” you tell him.

Jungkook nods. That kiss was what really crushed your relationship. Things weren’t the same after you confessed you had kissed a guy. It was a guy you had a crush on before you met Jungkook, you deeply wanted to date him but things never happened because he was in a relationship with a girl. Back when it happened, he was having a hard time with his ex. You were such at a low point in your life, you were completely drunk and he was there, being nice to you.

Instantly, you regretted what you did. Jungkook was a sweetheart with you, always there by your side even when you were pushing him away. He loved you with his entire heart and you were destroying everything. But most importantly, you were hurting the person you loved the most.  

“I felt even worse after cheating on you,” you add.

Your ex doesn’t say anything, he’d like to say over again that he never considered that kiss as cheating. He still doesn’t because cheating to him goes further than a kiss. Cheating is seeing someone, talking to that person regularly, flirting with them, and having sex with them. For him, a simple kiss isn’t cheating. But that wasn’t your opinion. You saw that as cheating.

“I started hating myself for what I did to you, I wasn’t able to look at myself in the mirror and I wasn’t able to be with you, pretending like nothing happened,” a tear starts running down your face. “That little voice in my head was telling me over and over again that I wasn’t worthy of your love, that I actually never was.”

Things start to make a little more sense to Jungkook. You were at a very low point in your life, you were making a mess and you were not feeling lovable anymore.

“I had forgiven you for the kiss, I told you over again that to me, it wasn’t cheating what you did,” he explains again with a visible ache in his eyes. “It was a simple kiss and I don’t consider that as cheating.”

You look away, tears running down your face. Life was tough back then and you’re ashamed of everything you did back then. Pushing Jungkook away was for sure the best decision you took back then. There’s no doubt you would have hurt him way more and he wouldn’t deserve it.

“I never deserved your love, Jungkook,” you confess. “I knew you’d forgive me and I was not deserving of that forgiveness at that time. I was hurting you over and over again and you didn’t deserve that, you were worthy of all the love in the world which I wasn’t able to give you back then.”

For sure, he understands your reasons but man, he would have preferred you told him all this ten years ago. Probably, it wouldn’t have avoided the breakup but maybe, things would have been completely different.

“I was so disgusted by myself,” you add.

Jungkook gets closer to you, his hand grabs your chin before slowly and carefully turning your face to look at him. Hearing how hard you were on yourself saddens him more than you can imagine. There’s no need in being disgusted by yourself. What you did was wrong, he did feel disrespected but he thinks that you’re being a bit too harsh on yourself.

“At some point, I even felt like I did that to be a ‘good’ girl for my parents,” your eyes look deep into his.

It was no secret that your parents weren’t supporters of your relationship. They were nice to him but they never believed he was the right one for you and they also didn’t like him that much. They were always saying that he wasn’t treating you right when at the very end, you were the one not treating him right. But they accepted him because you were staying with him and defending him whenever they would say something negative about him. Clearly after 2 years of relationship, they didn’t have much choice than accept it. However, after your sister’s passing, they started being less hard on him because he was there for all of you.  

“Your parents never liked me,” a little smile appears on his face. “But it was understandable, I was kind of a fuckboy before meeting you and I was still looking like one during our relationship.”

That is true but it wasn’t right the way they treated him. You weren’t asking them to actually like him but to accept him and respect him. Being with him was your choice and they had to respect that. If he wasn’t the right person for you, it’d be up to you to understand it, not them.

“That was not an excuse though,” you answer.

The man in front of you nods, his thumb caressing your chin. It’s definitely strange for the two of you to feel his fingers touching your skin. It seems like it was a lifetime ago since you last touched each other.  

“This is what…”

Before you can finish your sentence, Jungkook’s eyes look to the right when you both hear little footsteps. As he looks to the right, you turn your face in the same direction. A little girl, wearing a large yellow t-shirt with matching shorts, is staring at the two of you with visible confusion. She’s holding in her little hands a drawing. Her father immediately stands up to reach her.

“Daddy, who is her?” she asks her father.

Jungkook gets down on his knees to be at her level. His hands gently caress her little shoulders in a way to try to comfort her.

“She’s an old friend of mine,” he starts saying to Arya. “We were friends a very long time ago and she visited me today.”

She nods, her little eyes looking at you. You give her a little smile. She’s absolutely adorable. There’s absolutely no doubt she’s Jungkook’s daughter but she isn’t a mini copy of him. She’s still a lot different than him, at least that’s what you think.

“Would you go say ‘hello’ to her?” he tells his daughter.

Once more, she nods before slowly walking to you. Seeing this little girl reminds you of how deeply you want a child of your own. However, it feels like it’s not going to happen any time soon. You still need to find a man who you’ll fall in love with and whom you'd like to start a family with. But at this pace, you won't have children until you're 40.

“Hello, I am Arya,” she says with a little smile. “My daddy is Jangkoo.”

The way she pronounces her father’s name makes you smile and makes your heart melt. She’s so cute, that’s something she definitely inherited from her father. Your ex smiles as well when he hears his little girl speaking.

“Hey, Arya,” you say with a big smile. “It’s a pleasure meeting you. My name is Yn.”

Jungkook watches the two of you interact together. That’s for sure something he never thought he’d witness in his life. Technically, if his daughter wouldn’t have come up to the living room, the chance of meeting her would be actually very low.

“Is that a drawing you’re holding in your hands?” You ask her.

She nods before showing you with pride her drawing.

“This is dadda,” she tells you while showing you an apparent man.

“It definitely looks a lot like him, you’re very talented Arya,” you tell her.

She instantly smiles brightly at you, she spent a lot of time drawing her father so she’s super proud to hear that. Of course, outside the colors of his outfit and the ‘dadda’ written on top of his head, it’s hard to tell that it’s him but the most important is her intention.

“Dadda is at home with me and we are eating pancakes,” she explains while showing her representation of eating pancakes with her father.

This definitely melts your heart. Now, you’re a hundred percent sure that Jungkook is the best father to this little girl. She won the lottery with him, and she definitely knows it, you can tell it. She speaks with so much pride about her father, he’s her superhero.

While speaking with his little girl, you totally forget the rest. It’s like there’s just you and her. Even Jungkook disappeared although you were here in the first place to talk to him. But this girl is absolutely adorable and she doesn’t seem shy at all.

Jungkook watches with marvell the two of you interacting together. He has never seen Arya behaving this way around anybody else. That convinces him even more that you’re the one. It can’t be anybody else but you. There’s for sure a lot more that needs to be discussed between the two of you but as he’s watching you with his daughter, he can’t keep but wondering if ten years ago, he fell in love with you at the wrong time. Would today be the right time to try again?

For the past week, you and Jungkook have been occasionally talking by messages. After meeting his daughter, you exchanged numbers before leaving his place. It was weird but you’ve been happier than ever talking with him. Of course, it has been making you nervous and anxious because it has brought back a lot of the pain you felt around the time you broke up.

But you’ve been trying to just go with the flow. This is hard for the two of you, you’re very aware of it. Everything is different but at the same time, still the same.

Outside the talking through messages, you haven’t spoken to or seen him which you believe has been helpful. Being around him would have made you even more nervous. For sure, there’s more to talk about since you were interrupted by his daughter but you need more time to prepare yourself for the rest of the conversation.

Today is saturday. You’re chilling at home, watching ‘The Cown’ on Netflix. Although you adore going out with friends, you also enjoy staying at home to rest, especially after a tough week at work like this past week was. You’re drinking a cappuccino that you prepared a couple of minutes ago.

The doorbell rings which surprises you a lot. You’re definitely not expecting anyone today. The plan is to absolutely avoid seeing people but to enjoy your own company. It's a self-care day. You put your cappuccino on the coffee table before standing up to open the door.    

To your surprise, as you open the door, Jungkook appears before your eyes. Your eyes open wide as you see him, to say that it’s a surprise is an understatement. He was the last person you’d expect to see here because he doesn’t know where you live. Well, at least, that’s what you thought.

“Hi,” you finally say.

A little smile appears on his face when he sees you. He’s happy to see you, he’s been avoiding you at all costs because he was more than scared to finish the conversation you started at his place.

“Hi, Yn,” he says to you.

Hearing his voice instantly appeases you. That’s the superpower of Jungkook. Well, that’s one amongst others. That deep voice of his always had a comforting effect on you, but a hug in his strong arms would always be even more comforting. All your worries would disappear instantly and it would warm your heart in a way that you can’t even describe.

“Come on in,” you answer as you invite him inside.

The best is that no one that works with you sees your boss in front of your place. That would cause a lot of unnecessary drama at work. Something that you want to avoid. It’s already not easy to have your ex as your boss. Jungkook enters your little apartment, his eyes looking around him.  

“How did you get my address?”

This question brings you back to when you appear at his place.

“You’re my employee, it’s easy to find all your personal data,” he simply answers.

Well, in fact, in 2 clicks, he found your address. That’s the perk of being the CEO of the company and having you as his employee.

“Right,” you say with a little smile. “Take a seat on the couch,” you invite him to sit down. “Would you like to drink or eat something?” you propose.

“No, thanks,” he replies.

Jungkook sits down on your couch, and you take a place next to him but you both face each other. As you quickly look at him, you can’t help but notice the way his eyes are glomming. He’s different, something has definitely changed.

“Listen,” Jungkook doesn’t waste a minute. “Talking to you last week was very good and helpful.”

You nod, your heart beating a little faster in your chest and your hands getting sweatier. The nervousness is increasing like crazy, your place is getting hotter but you need to listen to what he has to say.

“Talking to you got me to understand how you were feeling and I’m very thankful for that,” he adds.

You can sense that there is a ‘but’ coming. He wouldn’t come to just thank you for everything you said a week ago. There are 10 years of pain inside his heart and that can’t be erased with a simple ‘thank you’.  

“But that was a conversation we were supposed to have years ago, not now.”

He’s totally right, this is something you should have talked about right after the breakup. This almost feels like it’s too late. Back then, you were in no state to have this conversation. It wouldn’t have been constructive, it would have only been you accusing him of small things that he did throughout your relationship. That wouldn’t have helped any of you and Jungkook would have ended up hating you more. More pain wasn’t necessary.

“I was convinced you were the one, even during the past ten years, I was still convinced about it,” he adds. “Nobody could ever make me feel half of the way you made me feel. I spent the last years looking for you in every girl I could find. I’d sleep and date a lot of girls but it’d be heartbreaking when I realized what I was doing with those girls.”

It breaks your heart even more. You were never worthy of his love, and maybe, you’ll never be. However, you still love him. You never stopped loving him and you never will because he is the love of your life. There’s no doubt about it. You’re ready to wait all the time that he needs. Even if you have to wait ten years.

“I also believe that you’re the love of my life,” you shyly reply.

Jungkook’s heart starts racing crazily in his chest. This isn’t something he was expecting to hear but he would be lying if he said that he isn’t happy to hear those words. For the past years, he was convinced that you simply stopped loving him although he was still thinking that you were the one. Call him crazy but it was a gut feeling. You can’t really ignore that kind of feeling.

The man next to you gets closer, both your hearts beating extremely fast. Something is building in the air, you both can feel it. It’s the little tension that you were so used to feeling when you were together but that has gone missing for the past ten years. So it is extremely weird and none of you knows what to do.

As a consequence, you bite your lower lip while he runs his fingers through his hair, trying to avoid looking down at your low-necked shirt. He knows that if he does look, it’ll be the end of him. But for sure, when the two of you are alone in a closed-door room, the chances that you don’t end up having sex are very low. It happened all the time during your relationship and also the day after the breakup.

However, as much as he tried looking away, your natural scent is something that has always brought him to his knees. He always adored the way you smell and it hasn’t changed since the last time he saw you. His eyes glare down at your chest, noticing instantly that you’re not using any bra. Your breast is almost fully displayed before his clearly hungry eyes. Your ex takes a deep breath.

While your eyes glance at his face, you notice the way his stare looks down on your body. It instantly excites you, and you can sense your panties getting wetter. No man has been able to cause an instant reaction like this, only Jungkook can. Your body always reacts to whatever he does. Without noticing it, both of you lick and bite your lips. The tension is making the two of you very very hungry, there’s absolutely no way you’ll resist any of this.

His fingers finally touch the skin of your chest, causing you to sigh with pleasure. They slowly but surely start tracing their way to your left breast, your eyes closing at the burning sensation of his fingers caressing your skin. Slowly, he pushes your low-cut shirt to the left, exposing your breast to his greedy eyes. Without any hesitation, he brings his mouth to your nipple to vigorously suck it. A whine instantly leaves your lips because damn, that feels beyond good.

As he sucks your nipple, he also nibbles it, causing you to moan a bit louder. His actions lead to the growing wetness inside your panties. This is fucking good. And it’s just the beginning. The torture this man will put you through for the upcoming minutes or hours will drive you completely insane. He’ll bring you down to your knees in seconds.

After a little while that felt like an eternity to you, he presses gentle kisses in between your breasts, slowly approaching your right nipple to give it the same treatment as the left one. Your hands find their way to his dark hair, tugging it while he abuses your right breast. Right now, you’re in complete ecstasy.

Before you can even comprehend what is happening, Jungkook is undressing you, leaving you completely naked on the couch. In no time, he’s naked as well with a condom on his hands. Your eyes inevitably look down at his cock. His massive cock. To be honest, you had forgotten how big it was but damn, you absolutely don’t want to wait to feel it inside you. He quickly put the condom on before placing himself in between your legs.

Jungkook touches your intimate area to feel how wet you are.

“Damn, you’re so wet,” he whispers.

Even if you’re extremely wet, he knows that wouldn’t be enough before penetrating you. It’ll still hurt you if he just goes and he definitely doesn’t want to cause any pain to you. He wants this moment to only bring tremendous pleasure to both of you. So he decides to tease you with his cock, rubbing it against your inner lips. Moans flow from your mouth as you feel the overwhelming pleasure growing inside your body. Right now, it seems like you haven’t been touched properly in years. And even if Jungkook has already made love to you millions of times when you were together, everything feels extremely different.

“Shit, I want to fuck you so bad, yn,” he whines.

“Me too, Jungkook,” you reply.

With everything happening at the moment, it’s almost impossible for you to form a proper sentence. All you know is that you’re desperate to have sex with this man. Your moans are the actual proof of it.  

After what appears like an eternity for you, he buries his thick cock inside your soaked core, stretching your velvety walls. His large hands find their way to your waist, caressing your soft skin while his doe eyes filled with lust look into yours. Both of you groan as he slowly pushes his long and thick cock inside you.  

“So fucking good,” you mumble as your eyes roll back.

The feeling of having him inside you and filling you up to the brim is something you did miss a lot. Although you had sex with a lot of different guys over the past years, Jungkook does it very differently but in a very good way. And it’s just the beginning. But honestly, you have a crazily immense sexual drive. You haven’t really been a saint since you last saw your ex, that is currently on top of you. All men that flirted with you and ended up in your bed have actually loved your wild sexual appetite.

Your ex leans closer, pushing his cock a bit deeper inside you and snatching a loud moan out of you.    

“You’re absolutely sexy, baby,” he whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “So sexy that I want to fuck you all day long,” his deep voice groans in your ear.

His teeth bite your earlobe before his tongue licks your ear. A deep moan leaves your lips while you feel yourself grow even wetter. This man knows exactly how to bring you down on your knees for him. And you don’t even want to start on the effect of his filthy words said with his deep voice on you.

“Then do it,” you dare to say as you want to push him to go absolutely wild today.

Jungkook is a man. Usually, men adore being pushed and they’ll fuck you just the way you want. Today, you want him to be rough with you. You want him to fuck you until all you know is to scream his name. You want all the neighbors to know how good your ex makes you feel. You want him to come inside the condom again and again until none of you can handle it anymore.

“I already plan to do it, princess,” he pulls back a bit to look you in the eyes, and a smirk arises on his face. “Tomorrow you won’t even be able to walk at all.”

You desire nothing more than this. To be completely sore and swollen down there.

“You have absolutely no idea of all the things I desire to do to you,” he presses a gentle kiss on your cheek. “You’ll beg me to never stop,” he adds.  

Jungkook slowly pushes back, only leaving the tip of his cock inside you. His eyes never leave your figure, watching you moan under him. That’s a sound he loves, and he missed it a lot. He dreamed of this a lot since the last time you had sex.

“Then, show me no mercy, Jungkook,” you answer.

A smirk appears on his face, satisfied to hear you say those words. Damn, he wants nothing more than to drive you completely crazy.

Brutally, he pushes his cock fully inside you, and a loud moan leaves your lips. For a little while, he doesn't move, hovering over you and watching you with delight. His eyes look down on your body. For sure, your body is different than it was ten years ago but you’re still absolutely stunning. Your skin is still very soft like he remember it was.

For the two of you, this seems like something totally new while being something very familiar. It’s quite odd but it feels good. Sex usually feels good, the two of you can say it out of experience. Jungkook groans as he watches himself buried deep inside you.

“Your cunt still takes me so fucking well, princess.”

You close your eyes, completely enjoying having him fully inside you. What you like the most about shutting down your eyes during intercourse is how you connect more to your body. With your eyes closed, you can deeply experience everything that is going on. However, it can also be extremely overwhelming, especially when the man you’re having sex with is awfully good in bed.  

Once Jungkook sees that you’re ready to take more, he brutally pulls back before slamming himself back into you. The couch under you squeaks while a very deep moan escapes your lips. If he does it again, the sofa’s back is going to hit the wall and even probably destroy it. However, right now, you absolutely don’t give a shit.  

Jungkook once again stops when he’s fully inside you, torturing you just to hear you begging him to fuck you. He hasn’t heard you beg for anything in years so it’s just legitimate he craves it deeply at this precise moment.

“Please,” you say grumbling, “fuck me.”

Jungkook leans closer again. “I love to hear you begging, princess,” he whispers before licking the spot just under your ear.

He pushes his cock back before slamming into you with both hands on your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts. The slick sound of your pussy soaking his cock as well as your moans are filling the room. All those sounds remind you that you’re doing something completely nasty with your ex but damn, this is beyond amazing.  

“Shit,” you gasp while he thrusts into you with no mercy, “you feel so good.”

You’re completely drunk in the feeling of his cock filling you up, his hips hitting against yours with every thrust he makes. This all causes sparks of pleasure to shoot throughout your body, your arousal dripping from your core and creaming the condom on his cock. Jungkook smirks as he notices the sticky mess you’re slowly causing. His cock is buried deep inside you, brushing against your walls that causes you to moan even louder each time. You grip the couch as hard as possible to steady yourself from Jungkook’s hard thrusts, but it definitely is an impossible mission.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby girl,” he hisses before biting his lower lip. His hands press harder into your skin when he feels your walls tighten around him. “And making such a mess on my cock.”

Every time he pushes his hips back, he watches with delight the way the condom is completely covered with your arousal. Nothing drives him crazier than seeing this, you can see it in his eyes.

“You love it, don’t you?” You ask him. His doe eyes look up at you, and they are filled with lust, making you shiver as they look at you.

Jungkook bends down, pressing a sloppy kiss on your lips while his thrusts slow down. A desperate whine gushes from you, a sound that he instantly swallows. His hands move up on your body, grabbing your breasts and squeezing them to make you moan with desire before his fingers start playing with your nipples. Moans flood out of your mouth as your ex keeps torturing your body at a slow pace. Your hands irresistibly grab his hair, tugging it as much as possible.

“It feels so good,” you whine, “fuck, Kook.”

The nickname surprises both of you but it left your lips in the heat of the moment. For sure, it’ll be the only time you’ll say it, at least for now. But it warms his heart to hear you call him by this nickname.

His thrusts are slow and harsh again, and his fingers on your nipples are just too much for you. They are extremely sensitive but it’s absolutely normal. Once someone starts playing with them, they just get sensitive and it just brings a lot of delight to you.  

Gradually, Jungkook begins to thrust hard into you again, and you moan at the feeling of his brutal thrust. Your walls suck his cock as he slams his hips into you with more force. His fingers keep playing with your very sensitive nipples, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. It’s clear that he knows how to drive somebody crazy.

His eyes look at you, completely contorted with pleasure as it slowly builds within you. Your moans are getting louder, you’re not one to hold back or stifle your groans because that’s for sure an indicator to Jungkook of how good he’s making you feel and if he’s doing things well.

“Moan louder, baby,” he says as he goes deeper and harder to make you scream with pleasure. He loves it so damn much.  

His hands can feel the way your body quivers with each thrust. The way he’s torturing your body is only making you lose yourself further but damn, you haven’t been fucked this way ever in your life. This is magical, your entire body has completely surrendered to this man.  

“Fuck,” he groans when he feels the warmth of your walls wrapping tighter around him. “Your cunt is clenching so hard, baby.”

The sweat is dampening his body, sticking his long hair to his face. That vision alone can make you come undone right now. As you stare at him, you can’t help but think how lucky you are to be doing this right now. His eyes stare down at you with passion and lust as his tongue licks his lower lips. He keeps growling your name, thrusting into you with more urgency each time.

“Fuck,” you say as you move your hips to meet his thrust.

Jungkook leans forward, pressing another sloppy kiss on your lips. He’s been enjoying sensing your lips on his, even if the kiss is a disaster. Currently, all he craves is you, and in any way. Your eyes never cease to look at him, he’s mesmerizing and incredibly hot. Man, he’s even hotter than he was years ago. You bite your bottom lip as you admire him.

“Gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” He asks, and you nod.

All you want right now is to do as he wishes and you’re also very close to exploding due to all the pleasure he’s causing. But Jungkook wants to hear you begging to come, he wants to know how badly you want to come.

“Use your words, baby girl.”

His fingers pinch your nipples harder, making the wave of pleasure grow bigger inside you. A loud moan escapes your lips.

“I want to come,” you manage to say, “I wanna come so-so bad.”

Jungkook feels his cock twitching inside of you, a low groan rumbling in his throat as you practically beg him to let you come. He smirks like he has won the award for the best fuck of the year. One of his hands slowly goes down on your body, passing your stomach, and landing on your throbbing clit. His fingers start to rub your sensitive spot as his cock keeps hitting your sensitive walls.

“Beg for it, baby girl,” he says.

His fingers show no mercy on your clit, and you’re not even sure if you’ll be able to beg for anything before coming. You’re a complete mess right now, and you’ve completely surrendered to the overwhelming sensations you’re experiencing.

“Please, Kook,” you manage to say.

With the way he’s torturing you, you can’t even form a proper sentence. You actually can’t even think at all, outside the fact that you love what Jungkook is doing to you.  

“Tell me, baby girl,” he keeps teasing you with a smirk on his face.

For sure, he would have loved to experience other positions with you for more pleasure. But this is just the beginning. He’ll let you come now and later, he’ll torture you with other sex positions. He won’t leave you alone today, that he’s sure about.

“Let me come.”

His smirk grows bigger on his face, happy to have you begging him to come. Teasing you is something that he’s enjoying a lot. The wave of pleasure inside you is growing bigger and bigger, becoming way too overwhelming. You’re moaning like a mess, but at this stage, you couldn’t care less.      

“Do it, princess, come for me.”

Those words are what you needed to hear to let go of everything. Instantly, the wave of pleasure that was growing inside of you violently hits you, making you come hard around him. Your arousal totally covers the condom on his cock and your walls squeeze him over and over again.

While you’re completely euphoric from your orgasm, he speeds up the pace of his hips slamming into you, wanting to chase his own high. He’s aware that in a matter of seconds, he’ll burst into the condom. Breathy whines escape his pretty lips as he looks down at the mess you made. His eyes are completely hypnotized where your bodies meet.

It doesn’t take him too long to be hit by his own orgasm, desperate moans leaving his mouth when it happens. His eyes roll back with pleasure as his body tenses up and releases his load inside the condom, loud cries of euphoria leaving his lips.

You move a bit on the couch to leave him some room to lie down. There’s not a lot of place for the two of you on the couch next to each other.

“Maybe you can rest on top of me,” he suggests as he removes the condom from his cock.

You simply nod while standing up to let him rest how ever he wants on the couch. The second he’s well installed, you rest on top of him, your head against his chest. His beating heart rocks you, his strong arms holding you tight against him. For a little while, none of you speaks. His hands caress your body which soothes you after this wild moment.

“Once we really calm down from this ecstatic sex, would you like to go on a date with me?” Jungkook asks.

[architectureandfilmblog]

"Settlement" housing surveys and dominates the landscape, West Bank, Palestine

THE ARCHITECTURE OF VIOLENCE (2014)

It feels like an important time to revisit this short documentary. Part of the Rebel Architecture series, the film examines, clearly and concisely, the use of design as a weapon of intimidation and subjugation within the Palestine Israel conflict.  One element it focuses on is Palestine's 'architecture of occupation': the way the built environment, even in the form of suburban 'settlement' housing (in which tracts of Israeli homes have been built in occupied territories like the West Bank), has been deliberately shaped to intimidate, surveil, segregate, and even dehumanise.

"Settlements are built on hilltops, overlooking Palestinian valleys, to dominate. They're laid out to create a suburban-scale optical device that can survey the territory. The bright red roofs of the houses are mandated by law... to allow military to understand what's friend and foe: where to bomb and where not to."

"...When you put Israeli colonies on highways, you accelerate Israeli movement through the space. In the same way, with every twist and turn of terrain, Palestinians encounter a checkpoint, a border, a fence, a valley they cannot cross..."

It's important for architects and urban designers everywhere to understand that our craft has the potential to be weaponised. It's important that, no matter whom the client, we think about how a project will impact everyone whose life it touches.  But sadly, as essential as these considerations are, they're of no immediate help to civilians from both sides who are suffering in Gaza and the rest of Palestine and Israel right now. So, it seems worth sharing:

Some ways that we can help:

1. Speak up. Send an email to your elected representative. Sign petitions. Stand up in any forum you can against human rights violations, and against both islamaphobic and antisemitic behaviour.

2. Contribute to a trusted aid organisation working in Gaza, such as Unicef or the British Red Cross. Sites like  charitynavigator and charitychecker can be used to check it's a group who'll use it well.

3. Understand the context. Short videos here and here provide a clear introduction/overview.

4. Boycott companies that are directly profiting from the illegal occupation, and from human rights violations.

(Images: Ronen Zvulun/Reuters via Guardian, Léopold Lambert/Funambulist)

[armpirate]

Wander through my body || San

Boyfriend exp.

pairing: Idol!Choi San x fem!reader

w.c.: 4k

Warnings: Smut, vanilla sex, oral sex (female and male receiving), masturbation (female receiving), unprotected sex (not you, wrap it up, folks). If you're a minor, refrain from reading it. Also, if you don't like this content, just keep scrolling.

Summary: Your boyfriend has been having a hard time, after he was forced to cancel a trip you were excited about. Even if you have told him everything is okay, he's still stuck on the idea that you're mad about it, so you come up with the idea of showing him how you're okay through actions rather than words.

Aprox. time of reading: 17 minutes

MASTERLIST

The huge teddy bear rested over the right side of your couch, after you placed it there. You weren't convinced of leaving it there, but it wasn't like you had many other free spots to leave something that was as big as you. Your boyfriend did mean it when he said he'd try to make it up to you, although you didn't expect that would mean seeing your small studio filled with heart-shaped balloons, cuddly teddy bears, and giant tulip buckets.

Earlier that day, he had called you to brag about all the gifts he prepared, including your favorite flower in different bright colors -that, surprisingly, fitted with the aesthetic of your apartment perfectly.

You couldn't say you were widely surprised though. Since you two started dating, San had always been the perfect boyfriend. He loved romance as much as he loved you, and showing his affection by using it was one of his best skills.

A walk next to the Han River in the night while holding hands, or sitting next to your window to see the snow falling down in front of you as you were cuddled next to each other, covered with a soft blanket... Those were the type of things he made you used to. And you loved it each time, because you treasured the efforts he made to see you, although his schedule was too tight.

His idol life was crazy, and you knew it before you started dating each other, when you met at Kangdae's, one of your friends in common, birthday party. San caught your eye immediately. Not only was he dangerously attractive, but his personality trapped you in the moment -and you were afraid you would never escape it. And he felt the same way, although -unlike you- he tried to tear down the walls that you kept building up, until you were completely defenseless to his charm.

One year later, you couldn't be more glad of avoiding everything that could've kept you away from him.

It was difficult at times, but you always managed to make it work.

Barely having time to see each other, the sometimes forced long-distance relationship, having to date in the dark, last-minute canceled dates because rehearsal took longer than he expected... And that week it was the cancellation of a week-long trip you both had been talking about for weeks, their tour would be finished and also neither of your coworkers asked for days off during that period of time -which allowed you to have that freedom to choose.

You already made sure to have that week off from work, when San assured you there would be no problem since there was nothing scheduled for those dates. Although thankfully you didn't buy the tickets nor booked the hotel. Just when you called him for it, the tone of his voice warned you that the next thing that would come out of his lips was something you wouldn't like.

It upsetted you, because you were already acting as if that trip was happening without a problem. But the guilty tone in your boyfriend's voice hurted you more. It was something out of his control. It wasn't like he had any type of control over his team, and the way they dealt with contracts for the group. He was already seeing himself packing his bags in a few months to go with you to Bali after you confirmed you were allowed to have that week off, until he stepped inside his company with the news that Ateez was going to be participating in a festival in Japan that same weekend -which meant he'd be required to rehearse for it. Ever since that happened, he had always been looking after you, calling you several times a day -even if he was using those tiny breaks to eat, even if that meant he stayed up at night -because he was on the other side of the world-, and sending several gifts to your place -where you didn't have any space left for more.

He didn't need to make up for anything, yet he made sure he did.

The emotional responsibility he showed, every single time he thought you were disappointed, was something you hadn't seen in any of your exes before -not even in most of your friends. It was definitely one of the things that you treasured with dear life, and that encouraged you to treat him better every day.

That week you barely had time to text back, or see him whenever he invited you over to the dorm when Mingi and Seonghwa weren't around, and the day he opted to show up at your place, he found the door closing up in his nose, with your eyes widening in surprise when you saw him.

San had never seen you reacting that way when he showed up, and that added to how distant you seemed that week, made him worry. His knocks on the door were gentle, yet insistent, while his voice called your name with an inquiring tone that made you struggle with the way your living room looked.

Ever since he came back from tour, everything seemed fine. You both went back to those late night dates, filled with cuddles that made him never want to leave your side, your random visits to the company... He didn't exaggerate when he thought that he saw you just as much as he saw the members -and he spent almost all day with them. But everything went off a few days back. All of a sudden, you stopped visiting him and seemed conflicted if he showed up to pick you up at work instead. It seemed like he was still on tour by the way you restricted your relationship to texts and calls.

At first, San thought that maybe work was busier than usual that week. But the worst side of his brain couldn't stop wondering whether you could've met someone else or not, or whether you started needing some space after dating for so long. Or if he did something to make you act that way. And it was then when he realized: you were supposed to be on that trip for two days already, yet there you were at home.

Meanwhile, you were inside, trying to choose whether to let him ruin your surprise or knowingly hurt him and give him a hard time to protect it. Work had been a mess, but trying to prepare the way your living room looked, along with all the small details you had to pay attention to, barely gave you time to breathe. If you finished your shift at six, at one past six you were going from one shop to the other to get everything you needed before he left for Japan. And you spent the whole previous day building the "stage" in your free corner of your living room, just to make sure it'd look fine before the day of the surprise came.

"Give me one minute" you screamed.

You weren't going to ruin your surprise. You were just going to give it to him earlier than planned.

Double checking the comfort space, you sighed and walked to the door. That wasn't the way you imagined that day, although you still didn't know if that was for good or bad.

His eyebrows were slightly furrowed at the top of his nose, and his eyes seemed bigger by the way confusion invaded them, by the way he was unable to read the expression on your face.

"What are you doing here?" you first asked, moving to the side so he'd be able to step inside.

"We've barely seen each other this week, and I missed you" San admitted, taking off his shoes before he turned back to you. "I know you're still mad, but...".

You were the one frowning as soon as he started speaking "Mad? About what?".

"I know it's not easy, and I know you were looking forward to that trip, but I promise I'll make it up to you".

Your hands rested on your hips as you heard what got him so worried to go to your apartment that late, out of nowhere. While you completely moved on from that topic days after it happened, he was still stuck there and the disappointment he thought it made you feel after months. If you were doubting on giving him his surprise in a few days, that was the sign that he needed to see why you were actually distant for that week.

Just clicking your tongue, and quickly twisting your neck, you took a step in his direction, reaching for his wrist to drag him inside your studio.

He was confused by the way you pulled him deeper in your house, walking behind you. As he followed you, there was a sound of waves that kept sounding louder with every step you two took, but he didn't pay much attention to it, it was the least of his worries at that moment. It all seemed like always when you two reached the entrance to your living room, except for the few plushies that he sent, that were decorating the shelves. Until his eyes fell over the corner in the living room that was empty. There was a huge beach poster, and the sand at the bottom of it was followed by a wide carpet with a print in a similar tone. Over it, a tiny table that had nothing on it, except for two empty glasses with two pink small paper parasols.

"Crafts were never my thing, so I'll say it for you: it looks a bit lame. But it's still unfinished., I didn't even prepare the drinks to make it spot on" you tried to justify yourself. "I know how bad you felt, and still feel, about that trip. And I tried to make this to make you feel better about it, but the only conclusion you could reach with this is never leaving me in charge of building anything".

The warm hug San trapped you in contrasted with your light jokes about the build up of your surprise. His face was hidden on the curve of your neck, feeling his nose and his lips pressed against your oversized t-shirt, while his arms surrounded your body, one hand cupping your head against his chest while the other pulled you in tighter by your waist.

"No, princess. It's perfect" he assured, with his face sinking deeper on your body -as if that were possible.

Finally smiling, your arms changed places. You wrapped his neck, standing on your tiptoes to be able to land a sweet kiss on his neck, while his arms hugged you tight from your waist.

"You don't need to make up for anything, babe" your fingers tangled on his locks, caressing the back of his head. "You never had to".

You squeezed his cheeks, lightly moving back to be able to look into his eyes during your embrace. His smile was so wide, despite not showing his teeth, that his eyes looked completely squinted.

"At first I thought you were planning on breaking up with me" he mentioned with a pout.

"Oh, you aren't getting rid of me so easily" you joked, pulling in for a peck on his lips.

The shape of his mouth slowly changed, going from the pout to fully adapt to the way your lips moved on his. His fingers pressed on a particular spot, between the curve of your waist and your spine that made you gasp, hugging tighter onto him as you smiled during the kiss. The tip of his tongue peeked through his lips as he smirked, guiding yours lips to his with the hand on your nape.

You had been dating for so long, but everytime his tongue rubbed against yours had the same effect on you. A wave of electricity ran through your body, feeling something waking up every time he flicked it against yours. Your knees went momentarily weak, forcing you to close your fist tight on the fabric of his black t-shirt.

San broke the kiss first, rubbing his nose on yours, before he said "I didn't bring a swimsuit".

That comment made you giggle, moving your face away to look back on him. You tried to seem serious, but you couldn't hold back the smile on your face when you were aware of the way his eyebrow kept rising.

"Lucky you, you don't need that on this beach".

You both mirrored each other's expression, mocking the way your eyebrows raised in a flirty way, while you two were dying to burst out laughing before you kissed again. San guided your steps until you were stepping on the carpet, breaking the kiss again to take his socks off and leave a short kiss on your belly before he was back on kissing you, joining you over the fake sand.

Being first to take off his clothes, he threw his t-shirt away, gluing your body to his while his hands moved down your oversized t-shirt to lift it up slowly. At the same time his hands moved up over the curve of your back, his lips traced a trail of open mouthed kisses that went from your chin to the line of your jaw, that he followed as if it was a path until he reached your earlobe. Once he sucked on that sensitive spot, you knew it was over for you. A heavy gasp fell from your lips, followed by your head tilting to the side, while you were only able to move your fingertips across his collarbones to reach his shoulders.

His skin was burning under your touch, making you the only one to blame for the way he was feeling.

Soon after, your t-shirt was flying across the room, having San's chest sinking and his growing bulge twitching when he saw you had no bra on. He pulled you close again, trapping your hips in his hands and catching one of your hard nipples in his lips. The moves of his tongue and mouth were slow on you, twirling and sucking on the hard button carefully, showing his devotion the best way he could while you cupped his head in your hands. With the change of one nipple to the other, a small one escaped your lips, along with your hips moving forward to his, rubbing your lower belly against his dick.

San moved down on you, keeping a route of wet kisses through your belly, until he stopped on the edge of your shorts. With his eyes closed, and still kissing the invisible line that separated your naked skin from your clothes, he got rid of the last pieces of fabric left on your body. He went lower, ghosting his lips over the place where your slit started, making your clit throb at the feeling of his warmth breathing over you.

"Lift your leg, princess" he asked, opening his hand in front of you.

Supporting yourself on his shoulder, you raised your leg, resting the back of your knee on his palm, which he moved higher to your thigh to raise your leg a bit more. The air seemed to get thicker with every small move of his tongue on you, making you eager to feel his tongue doing more than just soft kitten licks over your clit and teasing your entrance. His other hand was secured around your forearm, assuring you he had you even if you lost balance. It was something that was bound to happen when his lips enclosed around your bundle of nerves, pulling from it while his tongue drew small circles on it.

San kept testing you, changing his moves, changing the speed -going from fast to slow in a way that caused a short circuit in your brain-, going from your clit to your entrance to ignore both and shower with kids your inner thigh. And when he heard the first moan, it was over for you. Once that sound joined the sound of waves coming out of your small speaker, San sank his face deeper in your core, flicking his tongue a few more times until he moved back to look up at you.

Standing up, he was again towering over you, linking your lips on a messier kiss, that made you aware of the mix of his spit and your own taste on his tongue. He saw your intentions when you broke the kiss again, letting go of his lips with a loud sound before you sank to your knees. Although he stopped before you were able to. Reaching to the first thing to his reach, he handed you one of the plushies he had gifted you.

"Put it under your knees. It won't hurt you like that" he excused himself.

His gesture made you smile through all the lust mist in the air, reminding you that man was always looking after you, even if his brain wasn't completely conscious.

You undid his belt and unzipped his pants, eager to pull them down and see him completely naked. You both have had sex several times, but it always felt like the first time. There was always that nervousness to seeing him naked for the first time -even if it vanished quite fast.

His hand cupped your cheek when the tip of your tongue flicked around his tip, rubbing his thumb on your skin. The way his finger moved sometimes stopped, because he was way too focused on how warm your tongue and lips felt as you licked and teased his shaft, until he was aware and he went back to caressing you to let you know everything was fine.

Spitting a bit on his tip, you moved your hand softly, spreading the wetness all over his dick before you finally wrapped your lips around his tip. A soft groan was heart over you, a hint of what you were provoking on his body with just a few moves, and that went straight to your core. You kept moving down, taking him slowly, inch by inch, until you reached that point where you'd almost gag and that'd make you move back up slowly. You bobbed your head over his cock, with a steady yet slow pace, joining your hands to the way your lips were taking him in so good it felt like heaven for him.

His eyes were always closed when you looked up at him, with his head thrown back, while his lips were parted, sometimes mumbling praises, but other times just gasping and moaning with every move you made. And it was like that that day. He reassured you through the touch of his fingertips on your cheek, feeling how you sucked in every time you moved back to the tip and feeling it get thicker under his palm every time you took him in.

You were indeed heaven for him.

"Babe, stop" he stopped you, gulping thick when you reached his tip again. "Let me make love to you".

You cleaned the corners of your mouth and threw the teddy bear away, before he kneeled with you. His kisses were soft and sweet, but something on them that day made them feel way more tender. As if he was indeed treasuring that moment to the depths of his heart because he didn't want to forget it, sucking onto your lips so deeply every time your heads rolled that you thought you'd end up dizzy from it.

Through kisses and hidden touches, he helped you lay on your back at the same time he lied on top of you, molding himself to the spot in between your legs. Your hips instantly lifted to his touch, feeling that throbbing sensation again when he rubbed your clit a few times, moving lower through your folds until he reached your entrance. The moan you let out when two of his fingers slipped in you broke the kiss, but he just stayed there, admiring every millimeter of your face, knowing he was the only one you reached that way for. You wrapped around him tight, making him groan when he felt your walls enclosing around his digits as perfectly as he remembered.

"Does it feel good?" he asked, rubbing his nose on yours.

"Yes" you moaned, rocking your hips subtly against his hand.

A few seconds later, you were feeling empty again, when he pulled his fingers out to rub the tip of his dick through your folds to lube himself with your arousal, ghosting over your entrance every time he moved down. With one last annoyed gasp from you, San smirked, finally lining his length to thrust inside of you slowly.

Once he made sure it was fully in, he showered your neck and face with kisses, thrusting his hips back and forth slowly, feeling your walls taking him in like he belonged there.

San always worshiped your body through sex, moving his hands over your curves, letting his fingers wander through your body as if it was his most desired destination. He always gave the best balance between love and sex, rolling his hips for the best angle, while he whispered sweet things into your ear or spread soft kisses over your shoulder.

Sex between you two was always a full on representation of intimacy on all the possible levels. It wasn't only how you became one whenever he pounded into you, but also the nakedness of looking into each other's eyes, the romance of every little touch to encourage the other, and the passion of being vocal through moans and some mumbled words that made no sense.

He rested his forehead on yours, moving one hand to your hip while the other played with your hair. Your hips lifted after the first friction of his pelvis on your clit, looking for that same friction with every thrust he made. And San was aware, rolling his hips in a way that made that friction hold onto his arms and wrap your legs tighter around his hips.

"You feel so good, love" you moaned against his lips, moving your mouth down to bite his chin and kiss his skin.

"Does it feel good, hmm?" he asked with a raspy voice. "You wrap around me so well".

"Go a bit faster, babe" that whine went along a tight clench around his dick, that made him aware of how you were feeling almost instantly.

His thrusts were a bit faster, and deeper, just like you asked for it, making you hold onto his forearm and shoulder before he sunk his head on the curve of your neck. Your skin clapped with every thrust, just adding that intensity you both needed to push you closer to the edge. You felt the way his muscles contracted against your body with every move of his hips, while his gaps kept turning to high-pitched moans in your ear as he ran after his release. The synergy of all those sounds only worked as the last drop before everything overflowed.

Your back arched as you hugged him tight throughout your prolonged moan that announced your orgasm smacking into your system, while San sank his nails on your flesh and bit on your shoulder to drown his moan on your skin as he spilled inside of you.

You stayed like that for a few minutes, helping each other to calm down through touches and gentle kisses on the other's skin, thinking of getting some oxygen back before you looked into each other again.

"You liked the surprise?" your breathing was shaky as you spoke.

With a smirk, San nodded "You make me feel so lucky to have you".

You pouted to his words, tilting your head a bit, before you pulled him in for another kiss.

Maybe you'd keep that corner for a few more days until he left for Japan...

[fantasylandblues]

modern!lucemond college au

modern lucemond fics have had a real chokehold on me for a while, so here's my attempt at a lucemond college au! (i wanted to include some minor jacegon at some point but still don't know how's that gonna go lol.) this turned into a whole ass drabble but just hear me out (and pls be nice!!!):

Lucerys Velaryon (22) is an undergrad student majoring in ocean studies. Aemond Targaryen (26) is getting his post-grad in modern-age westerosi politics at the same institution, the Crownlands College of King's Landing, Westeros, of valyrian tradition.

in his free time, Lucerys takes theatre lessons at school. he has a scholarship and makes the best of it, although he wouldn't consider himself to be particularly bright (he also has some trouble focusing). he walks with the determination of someone who's got places to be, though maybe that's just to appear stronger or more confident than he actually is. Luce's got a somewhat tall build now, but years of being undermined by his peers have worn down his shoulders and his joyful, boyish appearence.

his older brother, Jacaerys (24), is the one who got him into theatre in the first place, although Jace now pursues his passion for the martial arts, teaching children and teenagers alike. he's known for being short tempered among his friends and family, but is as good with those kids as he once was with his little brother during their formative years. they currently share a two bedroom apartment and often hang out at their neighbors', Baela and Rhaena's, sisters who sometimes feel like perfect female versions of them.

Aemond lives alone, but often meets up with his confidant and cool sister Helaena (27) at the campus restaurant. Helaena is an English professor there at Crownlands with a passion for teaching medieval histories. she has the study of biology as her main hobby and is often seen carrying a book or two on entomology which she borrows from the library on her free time.

it's not uncommon to catch Aemond at the olympic pool well past everyone's school hours, swimming focusedly as a way to clear his mind. he comes from a somewhat influent family, the Targaryens, and knows he will soon be introduced to the actual world of westerosi politics, so he gets to focus all of his energy on his studies and training, almost as if striving to achieve the best version of himself. back home, he cares for his pet lizard, Vhagar - named after the goddess of war in valyrian mythology, a name only his sister could come up with.

he's lost his eye and gained that terrible scar in a scrap with his brother many years ago, which needless to say went too far. he remembers seeing Aegon with their father's letter opener in hand, and then waking up in the hospital to his mother's worried eyes. there are days in which he proudly wears unnatural, dark-colored prosthetics, and days in which he just puts in a clear one and patches it up.

his brother Aegon (29) works remotely as a manager in their grandfather's company, a job he doesn't particularly like but was left with no choice but to take. he is still recovering from the car accident that left him paralysed from the waist down and with severe burns along his body. with his little daughter by his side, he's been dealing with this new life surprisingly well, as well as finding a new joy for parenting.

despite being bitter for years on end, Aemond could no longer hold a grudge against him after the terrible accident. they have been finding ways to remedy their relationship ever since.

beloved by his colleagues, Lucerys is easy to talk to, somewhat extroverted and ballsy, even, although he would rather shield from too much intimacy. being gay is an issue he thinks he's got handled, thank you very much, if that means getting with guys in seedy corners and never bringing that up in conversation. people know, of course, but it bothers Jace that he's never ever heard a mention of a special name.

that day, he strides out of the school's pool bathrooms with the uneasiness that's left in the bottom of his stomach after one of those types of encounters. a few swimmers are packing their stuff up for the day, and he looks just so out of place in his jeans and t-shirt.

Aemond knows confidently what he wants, yet is hard to approach for those who haven't earned his trust, and would very much like to mantain that hardened image. but it doesn't bother him that he craves like a human being, that he craves small and he craves grabbable, just enough to leave small bruises where his hands have been, and he would definitely benefit from fisting a handful of those brown locks he's just laid eyes upon. or maybe he shouldn't be thinking that while clad in nothing but tight swim attire.

let me know if this is anything! my askbox is open for feedback and shenanigans~

[risingoftime]

can you do a riri fic where she says move your hand/ being aggressive during yk 🤭

𝖘𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖘 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖊𝖙𝖘 | 𝖗𝖎𝖗𝖎 𝖔 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

synopsis:  Riri had just returned to her hometown after her time at Wakanda and MIT. After her school year of stress, she’s looking forward to finally spending the summer with her childhood best friend. Yet, the feelings she ran away from all return once she’s with her again.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: smut, friends to lovers, implied cheating, fingering, softdom!riri, overstimulation, strap use!, min plot, cursing, multiple positions, strap riding, mutual orgasm.

18+ | minors do not interact

➴ feel free to send me more thots

The knocking on my window jolted me awake. Quickly wiping away the drool from my lips, I saw Riri staring back at me. I almost pushed her over when I whipped open the car door. Enfolding her in my arms, I squeezed her body close to mine and spun around. The scent wavering off her skin made me more entranced with Riri—a sweet vanilla and saffron cologne she always wore, her signature. Her head rested on my shoulder, and we stood momentarily until I pulled away to get a better look at my best friend. Riri had never been the girly type growing up. She used to always wear her hair out in a heap of curls and wore clothes that accentuated her masculine features. Riri claimed it was “easier” to wear loose clothing when working in the garage. Today, she kept her hair braided in straight-back cornrows, allowing me to see her face, unlike before. That wasn’t the only change that I noticed about her. She had a restless look, bags under her eyes and an unreadable emotion that I couldn’t place.

“I’ve missed you so much!” I shook her as I said so. Riri had just rolled her eyes in response with the same goofy smile she had when we were kids. “Yeah, I could see that. I waited at the terminal for almost an hour, ringing off your phone as you drooled on yourself.” Sneaking a peak at the time, I saw 4:47 pm flash across my iPhone. 

“I’m so sorry! How did you even find me?” 

“I can’t miss this bright ass red car you built with my Dad. It’s a sight for sore eyes. Is that the Cuda you’ve always been talking about? I didn’t know you finished  it.” Riri trailed her fingers on the car's tail and popped my trunk to begin putting her bags inside. The car has been my dream for as long as I can remember. It’s a 72 Plymouth Cuda that Mr. Williams and I restored to ride like new. I’ve spent my spare time outside university lecturers working in the shop. So this car was just a perk. 

“Yeah, and if you’ve been listening to me during our calls, you’d know that already.” 

I flicked Riri in the temple of her head, opened the passenger door for her to enter, and hopped in shortly after. Before starting the engine, I told her, “We have a lot to catch up on.” 

Riri took her time before driving to my house, and I expected nothing less. From the looks of it, Riri needed those moments with her family to unwind. Either way, it gave me more time to prepare for her to sleep over. Since she’s been gone, I’ve moved into my parent's basement after they renovated the house. So not only did I have a bigger room, but I also had a living space and my bathroom away from my younger siblings, which meant more privacy when I had company. And I wanted Riri all to myself tonight without interruption, to talk, of course. 

I don’t know when I developed feelings for Riri, but I assume they had always laid dormant, waiting patiently to be known. It arose during our first goodbye when Riri had to leave for MIT. My throat felt thick, like it was hard to swallow, and my chest hurt at the sight of her packed bags in front of her house. The feeling was foreign to me as I had never felt strongly about anyone in that way before. Not even for my past ex-boyfriends. I never truly cared who came and left as long as I had Riri by my side. So naturally, when she left for school, I was distraught. I tried to convince her to stay in our city and work for our Dad’s mechanic shop, but I knew in my heart that she was destined for more. Her mind was one of her best qualities. Since she was a child, it was unmistakable that Riri was a scientific protege. I couldn’t live with myself if I were the reason why she never went after her dreams and aspirations. Yet now, as she came back home for summer break, I was unsure how I would go another year without her near. 

I waited patiently in my living room and assessed the space around me. I lit candles, and Riri’s favourite snacks, hidden from my curious siblings, were now perfectly arranged on my coffee table. Since childhood, we’ve been inseparable, literally. Both of our Dads had been best friends since college and decided to move their families to the same neighbourhood. Riri and I ended up doing everything together because of it. We went to the same school, played in the same soccer league, visited our Dads at their mechanic shop, and rode our bikes whenever the weather allowed. Sunday dinners would either be at hers or mine, and if we were lucky, we could convince our parents to let us order takeout. I can’t remember a time as a kid without Riri not being too far behind. She captivated all of my dearest memories. I felt the same—nerves and excitement from the airport. Riri would be here any minute now, and I couldn’t stop watching the clock. Our calls and texts had been less frequent this year as Riri’s workload and responsibilities were never-ending, making me even more impatient to see her finally. 

Heavy footsteps descended the staircase, and I instantly knew who it was before I could see the face behind the wall. “Riri, I still don’t understand how you’re 5ft and walk as if you’re a grown man,” I laughed. Riri looked down at her feet-covered Nike socks once she entered the basement and shrugged nonchalantly before making a beeline toward the snacks on the table. Her eyes instantly lit up once she saw the arrangements of sweet and sour candy from our childhood.  

“No way! I didn’t even know these were still sold in stores,” she squealed. 

Riri hugged me before opening the snacks, beginning with the gummy worms. She sorted the candies by colour, leaving two piles for her and me. I never minded this because they all tasted similar to me, but not Riri; she’s always adamant about them tasting different. Reaching forward, I grabbed one from what I assumed was my pile, which Riri claimed to dislike. 

“Cheers?” I turned to her on the couch, holding the worm in my hand to reach her halfway, and bumped mine against hers before biting off the gummy. 

“I never understood why we always used to do that as kids. Looking back, we thought it was so cool, but it’s corny now that we’re older” Riri smiled in between bites and held a handful of the worms in her lap. Although she appeared to be different, deep down, Riri was still the person I called my best friend. 

“Aren’t all traditions a bit corny?” I asked. 

“I guess… But what did I miss while I was gone? You said we needed to catch up.” 

Stretching out my legs in front of me, I reached forward to grab the wine bottle and poured myself a glass. “Yeah, we do. But first, you need to tell me why you’ve been MIA at MIT. It’s not like you not return my calls or texts. And now? You show up like everything is normal. Did you forget I know you like the back of my hand?” I raised my eyebrow at Riri, beckoning her to respond. She pursed her lips as if she was in deep thought about what to say. The silence stretched between us until she broke. 

“I wish I could tell you, I do. Just know that I wasn’t purposefully ignoring you. Can we call it even? It’s not like you haven’t done the same in the past.”

“Speaking of, how’s Jayden?”  The smirk on her face returned when she brought up my ex. 

“First of all, Jayden and I are irrelevant; second of all, why do you keep changing the subject? Does this have something to do with Princess Shuri visiting your dorms?” 

“How did you find out about that?” Riri exclaimed. Her body turned frigid, and her posture was upright and tense. She was unaware when others kept tabs on her, probably how she got involved with Wakandan royalty. 

“You’re roommate MJ told me. I still have her number from when I visited you last time.” The bitter taste remained in my mouth from having to go as low as contacting Riri’s MIT friends to know why she had been airing my calls. After all, I’m her best friend. I should know about what’s going on in her life. But, instead, time and distance felt like it was driving us further apart. It felt like a knife had stabbed me in my chest. 

“Look, I would’ve told you everything if I could. It’s just complicated,” Riri sighed. 

“Yeah, I know you would. I was just worried about you. Next time, give me a heads up before you disappear like that again.” 

“You were worried about me?” Her facial features perked up at the thought. 

“Of course, I worry about you! You drove me to the point of tracking down your fucking roommate. That’s such a stupid question to ask me, Riri.” To my surprise, the girl had the nerve to laugh. 

“It’s so hard for me to take you seriously when you talk like that. You’re cute when you’re upset.” 

“I won’t be so cute when I shove my foot up your ass.” The smile on her face grew more prominent, and what was said next made my mouth drop in shock. 

“Careful. I might be into that shit.” 

I felt my heart race at the thought of what kinks Riri might have. She’s never been the most forthcoming about her sexual escapades. Riri hasn’t ever told me about her dating life. I just always assumed she didn’t have one. But her comment piqued my interest. 

“Oh really, so what are you into? MJ?” I asked. 

“MJ has a boyfriend, and what I like… I don’t think that she could handle that.”

 I narrowed my eyes at her, “handle what? Riri, you’re 5ft.” Her legs were spread out before her, taking up more space as she got comfortable. It was playful banter, but I could feel my head spinning from our conversation's whirlwind and the implications of Riri’s sexual escapades. I wasn’t used to being on the other side of this. Usually, I would be the one spilling all of the juicy secrets. A part of me was bothered that she had another life that she had never alluded to. One that was kept between the sheets. 

“You'd be surprised. I could make you forget about that sorry ass Jayden’s name.” Her cockiness always ticked me off, yet now I was outright embarrassed. I had been more than forthcoming with Riri about Jay’s weak ass stroke game, and now she was throwing it back in my face. 

“It wasn’t like he was that memorable anyways,” I retorted. I ignored Riri’s suggestion, unsure if it was wise to venture and explore that side of our relationship. It wasn’t that I hadn’t noticed the tension or stolen glances that were exchanged between us. I was just scared to make the first move.

 “And I doubt you could have me hooked on you just like that. For all I know, you’re a holy virgin.” I held a poker face to conceal my beating heart and the jittery nerves that kept my body on edge. Riri’s eyes raked over my body, and suddenly my clothing felt invisible. 

“Give me five minutes. That’s all I need to get you begging for me.”

 Picturing what Riri’s hands were capable of with me underneath her. I’ve watched her work in the shop, observing how her nimble fingers can reach all the tricky spots to complete a job. I couldn't help but now wonder what they were capable of.  I bit my lip to distract myself from the oncoming images that shadowed my rational thoughts.

“Five minutes,” she repeated, “and I'll compensate for all the stress I caused.” 

Riri could tell my mind was turning and debating what to say next. She closed the space between us. I looked down at our legs and how hers brushed against mine. With every move, Riri had made my body even more hyper-aware of what would happen. Her fingers trailed along my legs, hinting at her intentions. My breath hitched at the contact. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had sex or a good fuck. Jayden was a pretty boy but wasn’t good for anything else but to look at. He kept me company for the time being until what I wanted flew in. Now that it was in front of me, I was unsure if I had the confidence to take it. 

“If we do this, Riri, I can’t forget it happened.” 

“Neither can I, and I don’t want to.”  Riri’s hand brushed against my cheek, and my breath hitched as her face approached nearer. I could smell the candy on her, the sugar remnants still on Riri’s lips. I craved to know what it would feel like to be the one who could lick it off. I felt the familiar wet spot between my legs from the mere thought of having Riri’s body against mine. Once her lips met mine, all my thoughts drifted away and were replaced by lustful impulses. It began soft and tentative, as if we were kids again, unsure of the other. Riri’s full lips were unbelievably soft as I lightly bit her bottom lip, encouraging her to open up further for my tongue to slip inside. The taste of sugar invigorated my senses, awakening every cell in my body and urging me to wrap my arms around Riri’s waist. I pressed myself towards her until our bodies were flushed against each other. I was practically on top of her at this point. I only paused between our heated makeout to bring my legs on either side of Riri to straddle her. I had been so distracted earlier that I hadn’t noticed the bulge between her legs. My mind began to reel at the realization of what it might be that I was feeling underneath me. Moving my hips in search of any friction that it could provide, I could feel myself begin to feel desperate, almost ready to beg for Riri to rub her fingers along my pussy. 

“Let’s go to my bedroom,” I said, sounding husky and breathless. 

Riri nodded in response and picked me up to stand upright from the couch. I guided her along the corridor to my room, and she wasted no time throwing me onto the bed. My eyes were wide from the shock of her strength. I noted how her back flexed when she removed her sweater and the light happy trail that led down to the band of her boxers once she turned to face me. My eyes lingered on the outline of her strap. Riri’s gaze met mine, then smirked, clearly aware of where I was looking. 

“Take off your clothes.”

Slowly, I lifted my shirt to reveal the pushup bra underneath. Stealing a glance at Riri, I could decipher the temptation and desire that lay dormant as she licked her lips. She looked as if she was ready to pounce at any second, making me want to move aggravatingly slowly. I tried to make her wait like she had done to me. Moving to the edge of the bed, I discarded the pants I wore onto the floor. I looked up at Riri for a sign of what may happen next. She stood between my legs and brought her hand to wrap around my neck, forcing my head back. I had completely submitted myself to her, trusting her fully. Riri applied pressure on either side of my neck, and when my mouth parted from the new sensation, she connected her lips to mine and slipped her tongue inside—breathing in each other’s air as her fingers circled the thin fabric that barely kept my lower lips covered. Riri’s fingertips rubbed my clit in an aggravatingly slow motion. I bucked my hips forward, urging her to increase her speed. At this moment, I didn’t want anything more than to be consumed by Riri’s presence. 

“Open your legs wider,” Riri commanded. 

I did as I was told, pushing my thighs further apart to permit more accessible access to my throbbing center. Riri dived deeper, teasing the entrance of my pussy, only allowing a fraction of her index and middle finger to thrust inside. The moan that escaped from me was sinful. 

“Riri, please” 

“Please, what?” she replied. 

“Please stop playing with me” My voice came out a pitch higher and sounded whiny. 

“Your wish is my command, Princess.”

Riri repositioned herself so that her bottom half was flush against mine while she moved her fingers further inside. She used her hips to guide her hand to apply pressure. I could feel myself get wetter the longer she continued. The sounds of my pussy filled the room, leaving no secret to what was happening in my bedroom. Riri left sloppy kisses on my collarbone to my neck until she reached my ear, only pausing to whisper, “Can I put it in?” I knew what she was referring to and nodded my head. I didn’t trust myself to be able to get the words out. 

“Use your words.”

“Yes.” 

“Yes, what?” Frustration briefly overtook me, and I was reminded that I was telling my childhood best friend to fuck me. I suddenly felt shy as I said, “Yes, Riri, please put it in.” 

“See, now, was that so hard to say?” 

I didn’t answer her question and watched Riri instead as she removed her pants and briefs to reveal an opaque pink dildo attached to her strap. Not the colour that I was expecting, but the size surprised me. It could’ve at least been 7 inches bigger than Jayden, that’s for sure. Riri held the pink dick in her hand and slowly glided it along my pussy, taking extra time to rub the tip against my clit before lowering it inside and stretching me out. Riri went slow at first until her full length was inside. My legs had already begun to shake from the new sensation that I felt from the girth of the dildo. 

“How does it feel, baby?” Riri began to grind her hips while thrusting in and out of my pussy. Her pace remained unhurried. She was enjoying watching my facial expressions with a sultry smile. When I didn’t respond immediately, Riri began increasing her tempo, and I couldn’t silence the escaping moan. “Fuck- so good,” I sighed.  She kept pounding inside me until my broken cries turned into gasps. I slyly moved my hands down to her torso to slow her down. Instead, Riri grabbed my hands and pinned them down onto the mattress. 

“C'mon, you can take it.” Riri’s lips hovered over mine, keeping eye contact throughout. I am completely and utterly lost in her trance. I’m convinced she wants to leave her mark, leave me so drunk off of her that I wouldn’t be able to think of glancing at another man. “Riri, I can’t; I’m going to cum” I whispered. I sigh into her kiss as Riri swirls her tongue around mine and wraps my legs around her waist to lock her closer. She released my hands to wrap her arms around me and flipped us over in the bed, so I was now on top of her. 

“Ride it out, baby girl” Riri kept her hands around my waist to keep me in place. I took my time to adjust to the new position that she had put us in and bobbed my hips on the strap, loving how deep it could go and fill my hole. I began desperately grinding in search of more. It brought felicity that I had not known before, so intensely that I hadn’t noticed how loud I was getting with each movement. “Shhh, baby,” Riri growled. “Shit,” we didn’t have the house to ourselves. I bit my lip as a reminder to remain quiet while I felt the orgasm take over me and my fluids slipping down onto the harness she wore. My core began to contract, and my legs began to tremble as I whimpered in her ear. “I’m cumming, Riri.” 

"Yeah?" Riri planted her feet on the mattress, balancing myself on top of her before she began thrusting upwards. 

“I’m not done yet,” she said. 

My pussy gripped around her as she kissed my G-spot with each thrust, pushing me to my next peak. "I can feel it on my clit" Her low voice was shaky, and it turned me on even more at the thought of her getting off from fucking me and using me like a toy. It sent a wave of urgency and need to make her cum. I was pinned against her and unable to free myself from her grip. “Keep bouncing on it, baby” Riri’s mouth was open agape, and she struggled to keep her eyes open as her small sighs of euphoria became moans. “Mmph.” Riri was unrelenting in chasing her high. My pussy got wetter from watching her face conform to a blissed-out state. 

“I’m so close, don’t move” Her voice was staggered and pleading. 

“Me too,” I replied. 

The last thing I saw was Riri’s eyes rolling back until my orgasm overtook me. I didn’t care who would hear as we moaned in each other’s mouths, breathing in the same air. My head spun out from cumming so hard. Riri’s legs collapsed, making the bed squeak from the sudden movement. When I opened my eyes, Riri analyzed me with a peaceful expression. 

“What? Why are you staring at me?” I asked. 

“You’re so beautiful” She smiled the same smile that she had at the airport earlier. I gave her a side eye and tried to shake my body off her, but her firm hold on me remained. 

“Aren’t you going to let me go?” I asked. 

“Not after you gave me great sex like that. I’m ready to go for round two,” Riri stated. 

“Round two?” I shrieked.

It was apparent that what had just occurred between us was longer than five minutes, but I couldn’t stop. Once I kissed Riri, I had already gained an insatiable appetite for her. I was left yearning for more and more. While lying there with Riri, I wondered what had I gotten myself into? 

[especiallythewomenandthechildren]

As If Destiny (part two)🌹

Part One🌹

Summary: You've always been kind hearted yet admirably defiant. Or that is at least one of the ways Coriolanus Snow would describe you. Ever since grade school, you have always been on the same level as him in academics and one of his few competitors for the Plinth Prize. But as tragedy struck your family, Coriolanus thought you would fall away from his life, but instead, you got even more intertwined (not to mention the complicated past knots tying your families together).

Warnings: Terminal illness, parent death, death and brutality (it is the hunger games after all) characters may be ooc. I read the book a while ago but don't really remember much of Snows way of thinking (I mean I know its toxic and insane but yk the other things) so I will mostly be basing off the film and my own thoughts. Also I can't spell for the life of me so be prepared for bad spelling and grammar. Enjoy loves!

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The rest of the day went by quick, with you avoiding Coriolanus as much as possible.

You attempted to be subtle and it probably would have worked on anyone else (besides Sejanus) but Snow was far too intelligent and analytical to not take notice. It was lunch hour and you had made it this far through the day and internally begged that he had long forgotten, but of course, he didn't.

You and Sejanus were in deep conversation about the new renovations occurring in the Capital park and how you were planning on going down there one day and help with the planting and such. Well you were -untill the smack of a lunch tray was heard next to you. You and Sejanus both look up to see a slight smile on Coryo's lips.

"Seat taken?"

Sejanus quickly gestured for him to take his seat with a bright smile while you moved your chair to make more space for you both as he sat next to you while Sejanus was across you both.

"No. Nope. You both are going to be bickering all of lunch and I would like to enjoy my meal in the PEACEFUL company of my friends."

"That was dramatic, even for you, Snow." You playfully chided with a grin.

You baited him and he readily took it, refuting that he has never been or is dramatic. You open your both to refute him when your mutual friend cut you both off

You both shut up at that, you with a slight pout that made Coryo laugh. You were ready to roast the man alive when you got a painful kick to the shin by Sejanus as a warning. With a quick glare, you went back to your meal that consisted of a hearty sandwich and a few fruits on the side along with a cookie for desert. Both boys had a similar portion, Coriolanus with a little more.

It was indeed peaceful as the three of you ate your meal and stared out the vast windows to the beautiful capital. In a quite whisper, Coryo turns to you and asks "How's your wrist?"

You turn to him a bit surprised and embarrassed. You looked into his clear blue eyes and assured him you were completely fine and thanked him for pointing it out. He nodded along but was clearly waiting for you to elaborate. It makes sense why he was waiting. Why did you have so much blood and how did you not feel it?

You were thinking about telling him that it was your mother's. Your peers knew that she was ill and they, along with their parents, sent their well wishes.

But they didn't know how bad it was. No one besides you, father, house staff, and the Plinths, who have become a second family to you.

You always wondered if the wishes were truly sincere. Your mother, Cloria, was an absolute darling of the Capital and everyone loved her so it wouldn't be surprising if they were but then again, they mostly sent them towards the way of your father. He wasn't a cruel or hateful man and a rather good father and person but he was one of the most powerful people in the Capital, thus Panem, and people would be willing to do anything to get on his good side in hopes of sharing that power.

"Are you not hungry, Y/N?" Coriolanus asks you.

You spaced out again. great. You shake your head and offer your lunch to him, seeing as he already finished his and heard his stomach grumble.

"Oh, no that's okay, thank you!"

He flashes you his charming smile that might have caught you off guard but right now, you frankly didn't care. You simply just pushed the tray in his direction until it nearly pushed off his prior tray off the table while you entered the conversation he and Sejanus were having when you were in your head.

The rest of lunch and school day went fine, no more mysterious blotches of blood or the curious stare of those beautiful blue eyes. You made your routine walk home and checked in with your mother, who looked somehow even worse than this morning. She was fast asleep but looked in so much pain and her slight jerks proved your assumption right.

He, like you, never stopped thinking about her and always stayed by her side the second he made it home.

You were questioning whether or not to wake her when the sound of your father's footsteps interrupted. You turned around and gave him a quick hug while he placed a quick kiss on your hairline.

He gave the usual small talk on how school is and how Sejanus is doing. He asked those questions and gave replies to all of your responses but he never once took his eyes off his wife.

You let him know you were going to freshen up and head over to the Plinths and with one last hug, you were on your way.

As soon as your turned, you heard him enter your mother's makeshift hospital room within your penthouse. You sighed thinking about Sejanus's comment on how you were suffering. As you changed and cleaned off, you pondered.

You knew he didnt mean you were suffering like your mother, in physical pain. But were you like your father? You would argue you weren't, you weren't losing the love of your life, the mother of your child. And could you be suffering if you tried to spend as much time away from her as possible?

You weren't suffering, you were a coward. When news of your mother spread, you know some of your peers were slightly pleased, even if with no mal intention, as it was expected that your grades and performance would slip. But it actually turned out to be the exact opposite. You threw yourself in your assignments, the only peace you found besides the warm home of the Plinths. The home, at this point, you have already began the walk to along the paved walkways of the city.

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"That was absolutely delicious, thank you Mrs. Plinth" you try to be as cheery as possible. The meal, some sort of opulent wheat mixture with savory fish, was truly one of the best you've ever had and that's saying something in the Plinth house. But you knew you didn't need to have to amplify your reactions in front of them but it felt rude with any other reaction. She opened her mouth "Why thank you darling but please call me m-" her request was cut off by her son clearing his throat.

The table went silent. You all knew that she was going to request you to call her "Ma", as Mrs. Plinth was far too formal for your relationship with her. She already considered you a daughter but she knew the issue calling her ma might cause you. You were at their dinner table to avoid the constant coughes and screams of your actual mother after all.

You send a reassuring smile and she attempts to bring back the causal mood. "So y/n, Sejanus tells me that you both have an enormous paper for Rhaen." You and Sejanus laugh, knowing how much you both complained about your professor to her. You nod in agreement, informing her that you were probably going to head to the libary after dinner to start on it.

Your confession was received with a groan by Sejanus (which was quickly chided by his ma).

"We just got it today y/n. You can wait a few days, you've been doing so much work lately".

You knew he was trying to make sure you don't get too burnt out, especially before graduation, final exams, and the awarding of the Plinth Prize. But you simply shook your head and reiterated that you are going to start the oh so dreaded assignment.

And that's exactly what you did. That night. The night after. And the night after. It was on your fourth night of extreme working conditions that you were interrupted. You were on your conclusion, tens of pages in, when someone cleared their throat above you. You didn't know what time it was as you always worked untill you were kicked out by the librarian.

"Please, I just have a few more sentences and I'll be completely done. And I mean it this time I swear!"

You didn't even bother to look up, trying to finish up as quickly as possible.

"Wait you already finished Rhaens paper?"

That was indeed not the voice of the ancient looking librarian. You look up, eyes in pain from staring down at your paper for so long, and see once again, those deep blue eyes of Coriolanus Snow.

"What are you doing here?"

You ask, extremely curious why he is here so late at night. wait it was night right? You quickly scan the windows in fear of seeing the breaks of dawn. When you were met with pitch black darkness, you breathed a sigh of relief. Relief so deep that you completely forgot the charming blonde was right in front of you.

"I think I should be asking why you are here. And frankly how long have you been here."

He replies to your current state, which you assumed was quite disheveled. You just shrugged and spread your arms to gesture to your piles of books and papers. He nods in uncertainty while analyzing your face, taking in every detail, seemingly to figure out some sort of mystery you didn't understand.

You just stared back waiting for him to ask the clear questions in his mind. But he just kept on analyzing. Your perception of time was completely warped but even you could understand he was taking too long.

"Hey so since you've been staring for so long, how is my skin care routine looking?"

You said in a slightly irritated tone. He was interrupting your precious moments of focus so he could do whatever he was doing.

Seemingly slightly startled, as if he forgot you were there, he shook his head in apology.

"Is this why you don't sleep at night y/n?"He asks.

Now it was your turn to stare at him. More like a weird mixture of gawking, squinting, and glaring. You were going to open your mouth to question him and why in the world Sejanus told him (as he was the only one who knew), but he put his hands up in defense.

"Sejanus didn't tell me if that's what you were thinking. It's clear on your face. You have bags, you look pale, and you are never focused in class. I never wished to ask as I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or attacked."

He confessed the last part a little quieter, seeming to remember your reaction when he pointed out the blood on your sleeve.

You ducked your head, a habit nowadays, and tried to recollect yourself. Figure out some sort of response. If you told him yes, you were days without proper sleep because of your writing, it wouldn't technically be lying. But it didn't feel right. Coriolanus would understand, you were sure of it. You knew he lost his mother and he would sympathize.

You also wanted to assure him you weren't trying to be cutthroat about the Plinth Prize. In fact, you wished he wins it rather than you, he worked harder than you and most definitely than any of your other classmates.

But any response was cut by the voice of the actual ancient looking librarian.

"You said you were just going to get your book and leave young man. We closed ten minutes ago and yet you both, especially you miss, have overstayed. Go home. It's far too late and your families must be worrying. You are academy students are you not?"

Her stern words echoed into the empty libary that you just noticed. You both nodded to her question and she responded with a heavy sigh, shaking her wrinkly head while muttering something about teenagers nowadays. You were going to ponder that if she is upset with you two being good students and dedicated to your work was bad, how were teens back in her days? And you most likley would have ended up down a rabbit hole of thoughts if you didn't notice Coryo picking up your books and putting then in your bag.

"Oh you don't need to do that, I got it!"

You got up, far too fast and nearly fell over. He quickly grabbed you by your arm and pulled you back, steadying you. You stare up at him surprised and still a bit shook as he flashes you "yeah sure you are" kind of look. He finishes up clearing your table before giving you his arm to lead you out the libary, speed walking past the harsh glare of the old woman, a few giggles coming out of you due to your situation.

You and him walked in silence for a few minutes and you took it all in. It was late at night and you were on the arm Coriolanus Snow as he carried your bag and took you home. Once the thought hit you, you were sure that you were blushing, hoping the lights of the Capital didn't illuminate it too much. But it wasn't a bad thought. No, not in the slightest.

You found it endearing, even a slight desire. you are definitely in a hazy state, your voice of reason mentioned at your attempts to delude the intentions of his actions.

"Would it be okay if I took you upstairs? I want to make sure you make it there safely" He wonders as you reach the base of your complex. Aww, he wants to make sure you made it home safely.

His concern was a quick reminder however of your weak state and inability to move nor act (or think, that little voice chimed in) normally. In reality, he probably didn't want to be arrested for your murder because he was simply the last person seen with you before you fell down the stairs because you can't even count the number on your fingers properly.

You nodded and he led the way, opening up the door for you. You weren't really conscious as he clicked the button for the elevator (something you forgot existed in your imagination of how the night would have gone if the boy was not with you) or when you both got to your front door. But your consciousness came in full force and all of your sleepy haze went away as you heard the absolutely horrific screams of your mother.

how did you forget. how did you forget. Somehow, on your entire walk with Coriolanus and when asked if he could take you up, you completely forgot what would be awaiting you. And the absolute horror it must be for him. You quickly turn to him, as he looked like he was going to kick down the door and come to her rescue. You rushed to pull him back, attempting to assure him.

"It's okay Coryo! She just gets like this sometimes. My father is with her and so are nurses. I promise, it's okay. Thank you truly for taking me home, go get some rest".

You try to assure him with a smile, but he wasn't looking at you. He was staring straight ahead at your door, his chest rising up and down in deep pants and breaths. You try to get his attention but it wasn't working, so you put a few finger on his chin and make him look at you.

Looking deep in his eyes, you evenly say "It's okay. Please, just go home Coryo, I'm sure your family is worried where you are."

He says nothing for a moment, simply gazing deep into your sympathetic eyes. In a whisper, his question comes out more as a statement.

"This why you haven't been sleeping?"

You sigh, knowing there is no need to deflect now. You nod and take a breath, ready to turn around and head into your home, knowing you will be up for hours. Then another round of your mother's shrieks hit your ears and you cringed back tears and shuddered at the sound.

You were still close enough to Coryo that you backed up into him in reaction. He quickly wrapped an arm around you protectively, as if he could shield you from her pain. You didn't know what to do, so you just stood there, wrapped by his arm just listening untill it intensified for a quick second as the door opened.

Rhayes, your long-time family chauffeur but who is more of uncle as he has been serving your family since your mother was your age, came out. He seemed stunned and alarmed, you assumed from the scene inside but the way he stared at Coriolanus arm around your torso made you question.

"Apologies, miss y/n, I thought I heard voices".

His eyes flicked over you both once again as he spoke.

You wondered how to explain your situation and were going to move Coryo's arm off you before he interrupted with "No need, we simply came by to let someone know y/n will be staying with my family, if that is alright."

It seemed both you and Rhayes were shocked into stillness. He however recovered much faster.

"Is that so?" He asked skeptically, looking at you for confirmation.

You were thinking about brushing Coriolanus statement off and letting him peacefully rest for the night, not wishing to be a burden to him or his family. But he seemed concerned, was he not? You couldn't trust yourself at this point, but you could trust the slight squeeze he gave with his hand to let you know it was okay.

You nodded your head in agreement and that seemed to worry Rhayes even more, a look of guilt in his eyes.

"Would you please tell my father that I stayed with a friend and will be back tomorrow. I still have work to get done."

Your loyal driver takes in the situation once more and nods his head in obedience, wishing you a good night and well wishes with your ever growing work.

He opened the door into the now silent home as your mother has seemed to have calmed and looked back at you with those deep brown eyes of his, searching for something, as he closed the door. You didn't realize the quick glare however, he sent deep into the eyes of the Snow heir. Once the door was closed, Coryo moved his arm from snaking around your waist and around your front, to holding your hand and leading you towards the elevator once more.

He dragged you a few feet when you stopped, making him turn around fast and landing quite close to your face. You were looking up into his eyes, which seemed to sparkle under the dim warm lights of your penthouse hallways. He looked back into your eyes, something that seems to be happening quite often lately.

"Are you sure?"

You were nervous to ask, not wishing to offend him (and in all honesty, dreading returning back to your situation). He seemed to somehow deepen your shared stare and leaned in a little bit closer.

He whispered "Let's go home darling".

⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆

A/N: AHHHHHH! Two chapters back to back! Don't expect this pace to keep up however, especially with school returning back (only for a few more weeks but still). I know it was LONG and maybe unnecessarily so. You guys are warriors for reading through all that! I know I said that characters may be ooc but Snow may be the most. I know he seems pretty fluffy rn but I am trying my best not too change him too much as I find him interesting with his flaws. Also, in later chapters, you will see that he is now the only one with a flawed character and outlook (cough reader cough). But hey, maybe this time, he will use one of those chances to reform. or not. Guess you just have to wait and see! Thank you again and much love❤️

@notyourwildestdream 🌹

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

Gregariousness (Geo x Sociable and Loud! MC/Reader)

For @ch1mmichurry! Hope you enjoy Anon! :] - Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer Gregariousness: the quality of enjoying the company of other people.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Geo…well…to say he resents noise would be an understatement.

He prefers solitude, silence, serenity. You, on the other hand, are the opposite of all 3.

You’ve always been the life of the party, the one willing to perform stupid stunts or sing karaoke because…as you quote: “Why not.”

You remind him way too much of Deryl, which he also doesn’t appreciate, but hey, you’re friends with his friends, so he’s got to deal with you.

Only starts warming up once he realises you’re not an obnoxious little shit.

When you befriend the others, and start trying to talk to him (his attempts at intimidation only put a small dent into your confidence, unfortunately); he’ll tell you to shut up.

Plot twist, you don’t.

In fact, you make it a goal to try and talk to him.

“Geode! How’re you doin’?”

“Piss off.” 

Until the day he actually gets angry at you (mostly for existing).

Then you get crushed into smithereens a smidge upset and stop trying to get him to warm up (dw you’ve got Deryl and Crowe for emotional support).

But he got so used to it he honestly misses it (to his disdain).

So he starts anonymously sending you gifts, and learns to play the songs you like (in secret, obviously)

Will claim he ‘happened upon them’ if he ends up playing near you at some point (idek maybe their school have a theatre or smth???)

Anyway, eventually decides he’s fond of you (Geo thinking he’s fond of you actually means he *really* likes you btw)

Will approach you every now and then (he’s gotta worm his way in first, like you did to him), to the stage where he’ll just ‘coincidentally’ be in the same spots as you.

To him, you’re like a beam of bright light that sears away at the walls he’s built up over several years, and part of him yearns for said walls to fall. (Sadly that part of him is teensy small and it’ll take a long time for him to fully open up)

Doesn’t actively attempt to murder you if you call him Geode after a while, as long as Deryl doesn’t find out. Then he totally would.

If you’re more physically affectionate, he’ll rarely let you give him headpats. He’ll pretend he fucking hates them, but by this point you know him too well.

Doesn’t exactly understand why you need to socialise so often, but he won’t stop you…he simply wants to know:

Who you’re with.

Where you are.

What you’re doing.

Are there people he resents there.

Are you going to drink.

And that’s him being lenient.

Seems to be the most nonchalant mf ever, but trust me, if he ends up liking you, he’ll end up stalking observing you, ensuring you’re safe and making sure to swoop in as soon as he decides you’ve talked to enough people that day.

Essentially, he won’t be fond of the need for interaction (isn’t he more than enough?) but he’ll last. He likes his alone time, after all.

You both agree to try and improve (you talk quieter around him, he tries to be a tad warmer), and, if this mutually beneficial relationship situationship works out, well. He’ll appreciate it.

The fact you - despite still being a walking, talking megaphone - still actively make an effort is good for him; he has patience, he can wait as long as both sides show commitment to the cause.

Will ask you out at the end of school, so if he you died of happiness, no nosy shitbiscuits will try and pull something. (I think he is the type to believe in the Evil Eye, at least somewhat)

Because albeit your nature, people adore you…or hate you, but you don’t care.

So yes, Geode does lov- appreciate you. And will continue to do so. For the rest of his life. What can he do? He’s in love with very fond of you!

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------- A/N: Gonna work on a set of headcanons/short story oneshots for a...pretty angsty idea I had. (I love angst so much it's a tad concering actually)...but no matter! Send requests my way, I'm more than happy to oblige with requests. :]]

[defilerwyrm]

May i ask how's the recovery process after gender affirming surgeries?

If you mean how's it going now: my last surgery was in 2022 so at this point I'm 100% healed up. I was SUPPOSED to get my implants in December 2023 but my insurance company has been fucking me over at every turn so that's still on hold.

If you mean how was it at the time:

Top surgery (2018) was pretty easy for me since I have a desk job. I stayed with family in town for the first 2 weeks, during which time I basically did nothing but sleep, wake up long enough to use the toilet, take a dry shower, eat something, take more pain meds, then go back to sleep. I had 4 weeks off work, so after that I was a little sore and still confined to button-down shirts because I couldn't raise my arms above shoulder level; then I went back to work and all was normal for the next month. But...

Because I am an unlucky son of a bitch, I had a rare complication: I developed a seroma that dehysced (i.e. a hole opened up along my suture line that leaked large amounts of greasy, bright orange fluid made up of lymph and blood), which was not painful at all but was absolutely disgusting and very alarming to experience—but not a medical emergency or anything, and was easily fixed with a revision surgery. I took another 2 (I think?) weeks off work and it's been fine ever since. The left side of my chest is a little funny but I don't really care, it was fully worth it. Please note that I did not have drains. If you have drains, you're even LESS likely to have this problem.

Hysterectomy (2019) was much the same: I slept through the first two weeks and spent the next 2 in a recliner with an ice pack on my lower belly, playing a lot of Stardew Valley and getting into Critical Role. I was lucky enough to live with a friend who loves cooking. I ate a lot of soup. The soreness wasn't that bad, but I have a policy of staying ahead of the pain by using timers for how often I should be taking them. The worst part of it was the pain meds, tbh, because I really don't like the way oxycodone makes me feel; at the same time, I'm grateful for that fact because it keeps me from forming a habit.

Phalloplasty etc (2021) was kinda rough to start. I had 3 months off work that time. Slept through the first 2 weeks as usual. But for the first 3 weeks total I had a suprapubic catheter in and man I fuckin' hate being cathed. I felt like I needed to pee at all times, even immediately after draining the cath bag. Awful. Learning to pee standing up was...let's just say I did a lot of laundry and cleaning, lol. This was made worse by the fact that I had two fistulae (holes that go through the urethra all the way to the outside)—like I said, I've got bad luck. One of them healed up all on its own, like most of them do. The other one required a revision 8 months later, which meant being cathed again for a while, SIGH. But back to post-op for phallo: I had physical therapy for my left arm to make sure I kept a good range of motion; I kept the graft bandaged with daily gentle cleanup, application of ointments, and rebandaging; and had to take dry showers for the first uhhhhh. 2 weeks at least, maybe 3 or 4? After I got the cath out, things were MUCH easier. I was just kinda vaguely tired and sore and spent most of my time lying down. My libido came back at the start of the 2nd month, which was frustrating af because it wasn't till the start of the 3rd month that I was healed up enough to do anything about it (but once I could, holy FUCK it was incredible).

[preciouslandmermaid]

quiet fury in your head [ix]

Dream of the Endless x AFAB!Reader!Goddess / Sandman Fanfiction

Note: I was working on the playlist I have for this story and it inspired me to get this chapter out. Truthfully, I had about 80% of the chapter already written AGES ago, and so all I had to do was add the beginning scene/tweak a few things lol

No use of Y/N. See part 1 for all the tags tbh.

Warnings: self-harm in a ritualistic way + blood/injury + angst

Rating: 18+

(Read on AO3)    ||   (masterpost for other chapters)  

The wind gently tugs at your cloak as you stand on the pier. It is wholly unnecessary to be here on the pier, but this is how Dream leaves for his Odyssey, and you’ve always enjoyed the cyclical rhythm of repetition. You were once a trio. There’s power in rituals and repetition. You won’t leave the Dreaming through the waters, but you’ll leave while standing on this pier, the same way Dream does.

“No fanfare or farewell,” Lucienne’s voice floats to your ears. “I’m glad I caught you before you left.”

“Are you?” You glance over your shoulder and your eyebrows tick upward. Lucienne is not alone. Of the Dreaming inhabitants, you bonded with Lucienne and Dima, but there had been other passing connections throughout the centuries. You had not felt them significant at the time, but the presence of Abel, Cain, and the Corinthian proves differently. I have touched their lives even if they have not touched mine. You turn and face the small gathering. The brothers, Abel and Cain, were less of a surprise than the Corinthian who stood with his hands in his pockets and the light reflecting off his sunglasses.

“I wished to give you this,” Lucienne says while passing a leather-bound book to your hands. Instinctively, you open to see the language written within, but blank pages flutter before you like a flurry of white moths, a storm of white sheets.

A fist squeezes inside your throat. “Your kindness is witnessed, Lucienne,” you respond stiffly. This is not an offering like the times of old. This is a gift. Lucienne, loyal to Dream and his Realm, took the time to give you something to remember her by.

“I admit I will miss your presence in the library,” she says, “and our lessons.”

“I will return to the Dreaming someday,” you inform her and her gentle, melancholy smile brightens and reaches her dark, intelligent eyes. Lucienne steps back, nods her head and, the brothers rush into the space she once occupied.

“Lady,” Abel bows, “my brother and I will miss your visits.”

Cain says, “We will miss your stories, especially.”

Throughout the centuries, there had been a handful of times when boredom and loneliness brought you to the brother’s home. You enjoyed watching their endless story – the death and rebirth – the tragedy and anger. It reminded you of your sisters. They’ve always allowed you to stay the for the evening if you agreed to share a story of your people—be it the other Gods or creatures of folktale.

“And your company,” Abel says with a sharp glance at Cain.

“I already said that,” Cain replies hotly. This is their destiny, the wind tugs at the hem of your dark cloak, and I cannot stay to watch it play out once more. You have your future to write. Sisters to bury. A friend to find. A new Godhood to shape.

“Be well,” you cut in before they can continue to argue, “and I will return with new stories.”

It may be a millennium before you return, but time has no bearing on a dream. The brothers bicker quietly as they shuffle back toward the shore. You draw your breath into your lungs and briefly hold it. The Corinthian’s golden head cocks to the side and is studying you when he approaches. You taste the memory of saltwater and bright storms. You will not be bowed by a Nightmare. You exhale and push your shoulders back.

“Have you come to claim your favor?” you ask softly. You feel Lucienne’s eyes on you and imagine how the sight may appear—Corinthian and yourself standing close and speaking in low, intimate tones, as the waters of Odyssey gently lap and wave beneath the dark pier.

His lips quirk. “No. Although, I’m happy to hear you haven’t forgotten it.”

“Of course not. I do not offer promises and favors lightly,” the haughtiness in your tone reminds you of your Old Self – the Goddess of Rage, the Lady Nemain of the Three Sisters. If he has nothing to offer and no farewells to give then I will be on my way. I cannot – I do not wish to delay any longer. I have waited long enough.

You say, “Farewell, Corinthian,” and a shroud of raven feathers encircles you as you vanish from the Dreaming.

************

You stand alone in a scorched grove of ash and blackened soil. The mountains in the distance are haloed by rings of gray smoke and rivers of luminous, orange lava spilled into the valley, inflaming dry brush and shrubs, and boiling once beautiful lakes into sulfur. The sky overhead flashes with lightning, and the air tastes of eroded stone and thunder, of smoldering wood and lonely, empty grief. Your fists clench at your sides.

The Otherworld was a place of verdant, wild fertility, and blue skies. Surely, it could not all be lost, could it? Something must have grown from the ashes. Your hope burns inside your chest.

“I am proud of you, pet,” Desire says, wearing Dream’s face. Their arrival is merely mildly surprising, though not wholly unexpected. You keep shifting through the black soil, pushing dirt with a stick and kicking aside rocks.

“I haven’t buried their tokens yet,” you reply.

“You will and perhaps...in doing so…” Desire trails off, smirking coyly.

You stop and cross your arms. It’s strange to see Dream wearing an expression like this one. It looks wrong and unnatural, yet your stomach clenches as if it is him. A low stirring of desire coils and you tamper it away. This is not your Dream. It is not Morpheus.

“What?” You prod against Desire’s continued silence.

“There’s still magic here,” they say with a wink before vanishing.

“Your secrets no longer tempt me,” you mutter, though Desire has long since vanished. There is nothing Desire can offer you. They cannot revive your sisters and would offer you only impostors. They would look, and perhaps act as Badb and Macha, but it would not be them. You are here to see the destruction for yourself and bury your sisters. Nothing more and nothing less.

All of the beautiful oak Dagda’s trees have been chopped and reduced to low stumps. Some were torn asunder from the earth and cast aside, their roots gnarled and twisted, or blackened into white-gray charcoal. Dagda. your Chieftain God had a white beard that twisted like tree roots and wise, ebony eyes—a face that you will always remember, but are destined to never see again. You swallow past the lump inside your throat.

It takes minutes or hours before you find the Heart Tree—Dagda’s magnificent oak. The symbol of his power and his standing with the Gods.

Or, rather, you find what remains of it.

The massive stump could fit an entire village within its rings. You drag your fingers across the rough, dark bark of its sprawling roots and then dig your fingertips into the divots and cracks with a strenuous exhale. The hem of your bloody dress catches on the jagged surface and you tugged it free, tearing it.

You ignore the rip and continue to climb.

You claw your way to the edge and pull yourself onto the flat, spiral-marked surface of Dagda’s Heart Tree. You do not stop crawling until you reach its center and collapse, face first, into the soft and sweet-smelling oak. Your fingertips are scarlet, blood seeping into your nail beds, and your hands are chaffed raw.

A raven lands near your forearm, “Lady Morrigan?”

“I am alright.” You lie, knowing her connection to Morpheus, and hating that he might see your sorrow and shame. The destruction is real. The death is real. There is nothing left of the Otherworld.

If only you had defeated Lugh, you might have saved your sisters and saved your home. Your nose squishes against the wood, and you breathe deep and seek an impression of Dagda’s magic within the layered bark.

Please, you beg the impassive wood, please, I do not wish to be alone forever.

The raven nudges her beak into your elbow. You sense that she is attempting to comfort you and wish you had any energy to smile or offer gratitude.

************

Dream sits on his throne, and holds your feather between his forefinger and thumb, and watches the play of light on the glossy, obsidian surface.

You have not moved from your fetal position on the large, forgotten tree stump. He watches through his raven – Myrtle—and his chest aches at the marks of grief shadowed beneath your eyes. He wishes to spare you from suffering.

Again and again, he considers summoning you to the Dreaming, using this feather like a sigil, and returning you to your rightful place beside him. But he resists the temptation. He has released you and you promised you would return.

He contemplates whether or not he made the correct choice. However, as long as Myrtle remains, he could take an odyssey into the Otherworld if you need him. He twirls the feather between his fingers and sighs. A sense of melancholy and regret found a home inside his chest. I should have followed. But I cannot abandon my responsibilities within the Dreaming for the sake of a whim.

************

Your weary bones ache as you walk. The feasting hall stands against the ashen backdrop like a skeletal, black behemoth. You pluck a piece of charcoal from the shifting ash and gravel and draw your old tattoos onto your skin. They had faded over time as your followers diminished and the rest of your pantheon died.

It’s time to mourn your sisters. It’s time to lay their tokens beneath the Heart Tree as Desire instructed.

You are the last remaining Goddess of a forgotten and abandoned worship. You are the last of your kind. And you owe it – to yourself, to the mortal you once were, to your sisters – to continue to live and find a way to rebuild what you lost.

You find the homestead that you shared and it is remarkably unburnt. A collection of small animal skulls hangs on red threads from the ceiling in Badb’s room and its rich, perfumed scent of dried flowers lingers in the smoky air.

You gasp and stubbornly wipe away the tears clinging to your eyes.

Macha’s room glows with warmth, swaths of carnelian and crimson fabrics are draped over the wooden beams, and elaborate woven rugs cover the floor. You snip a crow’s skull from its thread and collect Macha’s hairbrush made of horsehair. These tokens, you think, will suffice.

Lastly, you approach your room and behold the sight of a lifetime eons ago. The walls are covered with your favorite offerings—bronze spears that glimmer when the sun cuts through the open window. You break the tip of a spear and stand at the center of your sparse room with a rueful smile. Dream’s raven lands on the windowsill and caws.

You bow your head in silent appreciation. You had sensed her vigil. You know her presence meant Morpheus is watching over you as well, but that particular knowledge is harder to stomach.

You do not want him to be privy to this ritual. Your grief is choking your lungs.

It is not a long walk to return to the Heart Tree, though it feels as if it takes centuries. Your mind fills with a certain blackly-clad dressed individual in a starry cloak and unfathomable eyes. Oh, Morpheus. Your time in the Dreaming has softened you to him. You recall how he stood on the beach framed by cobalt waves with his hands clasped behind his back. You had watched his subjects and their subdued and hidden adoration of their Maker, and how even the blades of grass turned toward him.

He is an isolated, dark star in a kaleidoscope of wonder and radiance.

You wonder if it meant something that he offered you mercy, that he warranted you an exploration of the Otherworld because he felt some type of kinship to you. Could he see me as an equal now? You shake your head. These musings are useless. They serve little purpose but to make your chest ache with ruinous desire. You set aside all thoughts of Morpheus and his inscrutable sentiments.

The bronze spear tip is warm in your palm. You were once the Queen of Raven’s, weren’t you? You nudge against the raven’s mind, feeling Morpheus there, and learn the raven’s name is Myrtle.

You meet her dark eyes and see Morpheus in them, “I’m sorry,” You say earnestly, abandoning your sense of pride for this one, single precious moment. With a firm mental hand, you push his essence from Myrtle, and she flies– startled – into the air.

The soil is waiting.

You press the gilded point to your vulnerable inner wrist. A God should not be able to bleed. However, your weakened powers are heightened within the Otherworld, even if it is a shadow of itself. You bleed if you will it. A pinprick of deep crimson wells at the slight pressure of your hand.

“Farewell, sisters.”

You drag the point upward toward your inner elbow and rivulets of blood pour onto Badb’s and Macha’s tokens. You speak the poems of remembrance and farewell in a pleading and undulating tone that is reminiscent of your followers chanting beneath full moons. Your skin burns. The ash and dirt stir at your feet.

Your bloody fingers are freckled with dirt as you dig and bury Badb’s skull and Macha’s hairbrush beneath the Heart Tree’s roots. There. I have finished my task for Desire. I am free. I am free to live at last.

Your eyes snap backward into your skull. You see stars. You see your sisters. A rush of cold air whips around your face. You see Lugh’s laughing face. You see the glorious battlefields. The ground trembles. You see, through Myrtle’s eyes, that one of the volcanoes has erupted.

The Otherworld thickens with soot, memory, and supplication.

Morpheus’ face appears before you.

“You said you wished to see the Otherworld. Not that you wished to revive your sisters.” He clutches your bleeding wrist with wild, bright, and burning eyes. His voice is as impassive as stone.

Is that what I was doing? You wonder, though your dry lips cannot form the words. An icy panic latches itself onto your heart. The Otherworld is crumbling – it is dying. You feel it. A part of you, the part of you that is Badb, abruptly understands that the Otherworld has been waiting for your return. This is your fate and your doom.

Desire wanted me to come here...they said magic remained...did they know? Morpheus squeezes your bloody wrist. But your broken skin stubbornly refuses to heal. Did they believe I could revive my sisters in the end?

The Otherworld opens its arms to you. You are its doom and its epilogue. It wanted all its children home before it imploded like a dying star. You are a stream returning to the ocean. You are a plant wilting and rotting to compost. The Otherworld cracks.

“This is how it ends. You – Morpheus – were destined to be my undoing – my ruin.” Your voice sounds like Badb’s, raspy and weary and older than the stars themselves.

“You’re lying,” he seethes and his rage is cold. You taste his fear in the wind. I do not wish to leave you either, Morpheus. His eyes harden like black ice. If he does not believe you, well, it does not matter because the End is coming for you. Everything ends. Even Gods.

Something hot trickles down your cheeks.

“My fate is yours, Dream,” you shout over the cacophony of the tempest and volcanic earthquakes, “it has always been yours.”

Finally, you understand the prophecy. Nemain of the Three Sisters, The Banshee Queen, is meant to die in the arms of Dream the Endless. This is how your story goes:

He will always save you from Lugh’s poison. You will always venture into the Dreaming and marvel at its splendor.

Desire will always find you. Dream will always release you from the Dreaming’s prison...and protection.

You will always return to the Otherworld and bury your sister’s tokens.

And he will always lose you.

You will always be dead, worse off than a shade, with your name forgotten and history buried. You have already done this and will do it all again. This is what it means to be a God. A story. A written ending cannot be changed.

Perhaps the act of burying your sister’s tokens will be enough to return your sisters to the collective consciousness. Desire said there is magic here. You don’t need the whole tree. A small acorn of magic will be enough.

Let the stories sing of the magnificent Morrigan. Let her be courageous and devious, wicked, and wise. Let her contain all the fractured angles of a glistening gemstone. And let your name, Nemain, fall into dusted obscurity among the annuals of history. It will be enough. If you can change the narrative, in this small, wonderful way, then all of it—your loneliness, guilt, despair, grief, and longing—it’ll be worth it. You mentally sing your wish to the winds.

“No.” His anger thaws. “No.” He must’ve seen the resignation and sincerity in your face. “You promised you would return.”

You hold Dream’s face between your hands. You realize the wetness gliding over your face isn’t sweat or blood, but tears and you blink them away. Gods do not cry. And, more selfishly, you don’t want your final moments to be blurred.

“It would seem I am unable to honor my promise. I hope you will not hate me for it, though I will not fault you if you do.”

“I do not,” he says fiercely, his pale hands are marred with your blood, and they grip your face in desperation as the Otherworld collapses.

A faint, white light shines and sparkles through the fissures. A flicker of frustration etches across Dream’s usually calm, proud face.

“Come to the Dreaming.”

Even at the end of all things, you will not obey his orders. He would do well to understand that.

“I do not belong there,” you say with some difficulty, “you said so upon our first meeting and it was the truth. I am neither dream, nor nightmare, nor memory.”

“And what of my memories?” He pins you beneath his weighted gaze. “I do not forget so easily.”

You surge forward and kiss him with a tumultuous, wounded heart. Dream is motionless. You groan against his stubborn mouth, wishing for reciprocation, and hating the way your heart shatters at his stoicism. It is an odd feeling to let the tears fall.

You are not a creature of tears and sorrow. You are a herald of death and blood lust. Or you were. You were.

Dream slants his mouth over yours, adjusting, and you shudder, mollified.

You will fracture into oblivion and obscurity, yes, but at least you have this moment. In an era of solitude and bereavement, you will not face death alone. The dirt shimmers with light. You pull away from him with the solemn decision to face your death with your eyes open.

Morpheus’ intense expression steals the breath from your lungs. You burn alive like a sacrificial lamb in the light of his eyes.

“The Morrigan,” he whispers your name in reverence, “Queen of Nightmares.”

************ After the Otherworld shattered in brilliant light, his sister did not come and claim the Morrigan’s soul. This fact offers a paltry balm to his wounded heart. You might still yet live. Somewhere. Though Dream doesn’t know how to find you.

You do not dream, so he cannot find you within the Dreaming. And although your raven father no longer vibrates with echoes of your magic, he carries it with him, trapped in a desperate and melancholy hope within his breast pocket.

He cannot undo destiny. If it was your fate to become ‘undone’ – as you put it – then that was your fate. There is no bargain to be made, no trick to reveal, and no nightmare to banish. He considers calling upon his brother, Destiny, but what purpose would that serve? He knows how the story ends. He was there.

He focuses on his duties, his realm, and his creations.

It rains often.

He creates a Nightmare with black, feathered wings and sharp fangs, but struggles to complete the Nightmare’s eyes. He can only think of your eyes—deep, electrifying, the amount of swirling stars within them varying based on your mood—and he cannot get it right.

The Nightmare remains unfinished.

He doesn’t lament over the unfairness of losing you. He is Endless. This is the way things are, the way they were always meant to be, and it would be unproductive to whinge over it.

He has found himself at the stormy cliffside more often than expected. He stands with his hands clasped behind his back and focuses on remembrance—he’ll recall the sublime shape of your spine, the arch of your neck exposed to him with an up-do hairstyle, the play of your emotions across your face, fierce and breathtaking, even when sharpened with malice. He recalls the way your eyes looked on that final, fateful day. The galaxies within your irises had imploded, creating a field of black holes, and streaks of warping and bulbous light consumed the darkness before cannibalizing itself.

Another day, he returns to the mountainside where he secretly witnessed your first and only smile. He lifts his palm and lets the snowflakes settle on his skin with iced, tiny kisses.

He recalls your tearful expression, accepting his scorn, his denial, in light of everything you’d done. Your instinctive selfishness and desire for survival, luminous anger, and gilded conceit.

He doesn’t offer forgiveness or mercy for his creations. His realm requires ancient laws and stalwart order. That is how it functions. But he offered those gifts to you because you were not of his realm.

You were an outsider, who effortlessly wove yourself into the tapestry of the Dreaming – into him. He felt your touch, rich like blood, delicate as spring’s bloom, in the whispered nightmares you left behind.

Your final gift to him had been a kiss that seared his soul and bound him forever.

To him, none can compare, and he aches like a man starved for food at a banquet.

He has sensed Lucienne’s worry for him. However, she’s loyal and smart enough to not broach the topic.

He knows when others are speaking of you because they hush when he enters a room. Save for Corinthian. In the days after your annihilation, your death, Corinthian approached him and petitioned himself to search the living, waking world to try and find you.

He saw it for what it was. A poor, thinly veiled attempt to escape the Dreaming. He denied him.

Under the full, blue-gray moonlight, Dream stands in a field of pink camellias, pale red carnations, and purple heliotropes dappled with fresh rainwater. He pulls your feather from his coat and slides it across his lips – a poor substitution to your touch – but it’s all he has.

****

A/N: Flower meanings: pink camellias symbolize longing, pale red carnations symbolize an aching heart, while heliotropes symbolize eternal love/devotion.

[jbaileyfansite]

On June 6, the 2024 IndieWire Honors ceremony will celebrate 13 creators and stars responsible for some of the most stellar work of the TV season. Curated and selected by IndieWire’s editorial team, this event is a new edition of its IndieWire Honors event focused entirely on television. We’re showcasing their work with new interviews leading up to the Los Angeles event.

Ahead, “Fellow Travelers” star Jonathan Bailey writes about the many qualities that earmarked the collaboration between our Wavelength Award winners, showrunner Ron Nyswaner and star and executive producer Matt Bomer.

When it comes to celebrating the collaboration of Ron Nyswaner and Matt Bomer, I have to acknowledge how both of them influenced me long before I came onto “Fellow Travelers.” Their work on both sides of the camera has permeated in the same way.

Ron’s writing has always been so significant to me because of his ability to provocatively Trojan-horse brutal truths with tender, human experiences and romances. And this has sculpted my understanding of how to be and how to love. Matt Bomer is someone who visibly made me understand what was possible as I grew up in a world where it seemed that being an out gay actor wasn’t going to be an easy task. There he was — brilliant and visible, a lighthouse.

Now, to see the two of them come together and shine so bright in and around the work of “Fellow Travelers” and to understand the journey it took them both to get to this place, is remarkable. They really are warriors in the same way as Tim and Hawk.

When I first spoke to Ron, he said to me, “This project has been 10 years in the making. It might be my life’s work.” And I replied to him, “Well, whoever you invite to play Tim or any of these characters, it will be their life’s work as well.”

With Matt, we started in Gold Struck Coffee on Cumberland Avenue (the jokes write themselves). The two of us had an hour-long conversation about how we felt, our apprehensions, the opportunity, and the thrill we felt seeing the stories of Tim and Hawk on the page. He led the whole company of actors with such elegant grace and intelligence. He’s a force for good on set and a brilliant friend.

It has been extraordinary to see the work of “Fellow Travelers” celebrated, and that is a reflection of so many people in so many different capacities, but all of whom are being led by these two amazing people, Matt and Ron. And as a society, as a community, and as people who love television, we should always be grateful to them.

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