#vision care industry
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
You can also do non-prescription from Zenni! I have gotten multiple pairs of non-prescription, cute glasses, with blue light filtering. It helps so much with eyestrain on screens and it is a fraction of the cost of âgamer glassesâ or whatever other nonsense they are being marketed as.
where are those startups that are disrupting the glasses industry
236K notes
¡
View notes
Text
The Booming Vision Care Market SWOT Analysis
This industry encompasses a wide range of products and services, from eyeglasses and contact lenses to vision correction surgeries like LASIK. According to a recent market research report, the global vision care market is expected to reach a staggering $79.16 billion by 2031, growing at a steady Compound Annual Growth Rate (CAGR) of 4.09%. Let's delve deeper and analyze the strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and threats (SWOT) shaping this ever-evolving market.
Strengths:
Growing Demand: The demand for vision care products and services is constantly rising due to several factors. An aging population means more people require corrective lenses. Additionally, increased screen time, a growing emphasis on digital devices, and rising disposable incomes all contribute to the market's strength.
Technological Advancements: The vision care industry is constantly innovating. New materials for contact lenses, advancements in vision correction surgeries, and the development of digital eye strain solutions are just a few examples. These advancements lead to better patient outcomes and a wider range of options.
Experienced Professionals: Qualified optometrists and ophthalmologists are crucial to the vision care market's strength. Their expertise in eye examinations, diagnosis, and treatment ensures patients receive proper care.
Weaknesses:
Limited Accessibility: In some regions, access to affordable and quality vision care services can be limited. This can be due to a shortage of qualified professionals or a lack of healthcare infrastructure.
High Costs: Vision correction surgeries and certain high-tech contact lenses can be expensive, potentially limiting access for some demographics.
Reliance on Insurance: Vision insurance coverage can vary significantly, and some plans may not cover all vision care needs. This can be a barrier for some individuals seeking vision correction.
Opportunities:
Emerging Markets: Developing economies with growing middle classes present significant opportunities for the vision care market. Increased disposable income in these regions can lead to a rise in demand for vision care products and services.
Telehealth: The rise of telehealth offers the potential to improve access to vision care, especially in underserved areas. Remote consultations and online prescription renewals can streamline the process for patients.
Preventative Care: There's a growing focus on preventative eye care to address issues like eye strain from digital devices and age-related macular degeneration. This creates opportunities for the development and marketing of preventative eye care products and services.
Threats:
Online Retailers: The rise of online retailers selling contact lenses and eyeglasses can pose a threat to traditional brick-and-mortar optometry practices.
Fake Eyewear: The availability of counterfeit eyeglasses and contact lenses can be a safety concern for consumers. Stricter regulations and consumer education are needed to combat this threat.
Economic Downturns: Economic downturns can lead to reduced consumer spending, potentially impacting the vision care market.
The Future of Sharp Vision
The vision care market is poised for continued growth, driven by an aging population, technological advancements, and a growing emphasis on preventative eye care. By addressing weaknesses like accessibility and cost barriers, and capitalizing on opportunities like emerging markets and telehealth, the vision care industry can ensure clear vision for all.
#Vision care market#vision care industry#eyecare#eyecare market#marketreports#market analysis#kenresearch
0 notes
Text
nothing is funnier than seeing huge masses of gamers having One Major Complain about a game that's about to come out and repeat it over and over as THE deal-breaking thing, meanwhile you (gamedev) are like "buddy that's not even in the top 3 of things that are wrong with this game you're all gonna forget it was even a thing that bothered you by the time you actually have the controller in your hands"
#thoughts#gamedev#deactivated the reblog because#me posting this is bad praxis#but#it is very funny#(tbh I think gamers have by and large very strange priorities and hyperfocus on shit that literally does not matter)#(or is integral to the vision/the specific experience provided)#(also I'm sorry but unless the fps drop makes the game unplayable or consistently annoying I could not care less)#(if the experience is worth a janky framing I'm able to forgive almost any jankiness personally)#(sometimes the jankiness enhances the experience even! looking at you oblivion!)#(âis the game fun and why does it have soul does it speak to you do you feel enrichedâ is so often??? left out of the conversation???)#(to be perfectly honest a whole lot of gamers don't really respect games that much imho)#(expecting the experience to cater to them instead of being willing to meet them where they are *and then* assess and discuss)#(this medium suffers from such a lack of curiosity and introspection across the board it's genuinely exhausting)#((sorry I'm in a very sour mood regarding the game industry in general right now so!!!!))
21 notes
¡
View notes
Text
me wanting to get into elden ring vs seeing how absolutely fucking rancid the community is towards anyone who dares to ask for difficulty settings and accessibility options.
on that note: HERE is a link to abledgamers
#tara says stuff#i just want to build a fun character and have a nice time#can i please do that without also having to slog through insanely difficult gameplay#âum!!! u can actually make the game much easier if u use this specific build and these specific weapons so maybe you should just get good--#STFU#LET PEOPLE PLAY GAMES HOW *THEY* WANT TO PLAY#maybe i dont WANT to use that build. maybe i want to do something different without being actively punished for it#like at this point just admit to being a pretentious and likely abelist asshole#artistic vision can only hold so much value when a large chunk of people are being actively denied the ability to engage with it#i wouldnt make a fuss if this were a smaller project#but elden ring was the fucking game of the year in 2022#is it really that big a deal for the GAME OF THE YEAR to even CONSIDER having accessibility options?#jfc#like idec about soulsborn games that much but i DO care about disability and accessible gaming#and i just dont think that something that excludes disabled folks so much should viewed without a critical eye#you can still like the game. that doesnt make you a bad person at all#but maybe you can also start advocating for disabled voices to be heard in the gaming industry#those two things can co-exist
3 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Mix and match top and bottoms in solid colours
everything is sleeveless but you can slide on sleeve socks and hook them on to make stylish sleeves
if you wear the same top and bottom colour itâs a dress or jumpsuit
No bands on the bottoms digging into the belly
no bulge making/muffin top/back roll making
suits hot to middle range weather such that it works for summer wear and adding those sleeves or formal jackets/coats makes it work for winter wear (5-30 degrees C)
cotton base to avoid stink but enough stretch to be considered fitted
slinky enough to repel pet hair and dust or at least make it easy enough to wipe off
no wrinkles
machine washable, doesnât deform in the dryer
built in soft bra with nipple cover
no cameltoe
decent enough for work, or such that I could put on one of those fake collars under and itâs a work outfit
fitted enough for play/party
soft enough for lounging and walking the dog
styles such that flat Chelsea boots always work; shifting to heels/lace ups/sandals/sneakers will work with anything that suits a Chelsea boot, but it doesnât work the other way, therefore the boot suiting is the definite element
#All I want out of clothes/a life uniform#why is it so damned hard#My lotto dream is studying fashion and industrial design together and manufacturing this stackable interchangeable vision in my head#I think the fundamental issue is the fabric I have in mind (which drives all tailoring and care metrics) doesnât exist yet#Terribly enough kkâs Skims brand is soooooo close but it doesnât deliver to Australia without requiring huge cost/huge return fees
7 notes
¡
View notes
Text
I don't know that I've ever mentioned this before, but finding that quote by Ruth Pointer about the Pointer Sisters' Break Out album reminded me that I have also never really liked its title (even though it's one of my all-time favorite albums). I get that whoever suggested that title (why do I assume it's their producer? Richard Perry, to be specific?) thought it was going to be like their 'break out' album and apparently confidently named it accordingly, but I also think it did a disservice to the Pointer Sisters, suggesting that their material for the past ten years was never good enough to warrant "true" hits of a 'break out' status. I feel that kind of title, for that album at that time, greatly discredited the work they'd done thus far and the effort they'd put into getting to where they were; PLUS, seemingly based on the concept of being a self-fulfilling prophecy, it also seemed to suggest (by popularity, and by quality) that they'd peaked, as none of their albums following Break Out were able to surpass, much less match, the success (chart-wise) of Break Out. I just think it was a shitty move, naming the album that, and the Pointer Sisters deserved better.
#crystal visions of lilies in the valley#sorry for the rant#I haven't even listened to all of the Pointer Sisters' discography but I've listened to at least five of their albums and#I just love them and think that they always deserved better. I don't care how many hits they had -#I think it would've been more interesting had they had more say in their material (early on especially) because#given the quality of the songs written by the sisters I would not be surprised if more of their songs had been passed up on their albums#(by producers) in favor of covers that were 'hit' material. well fuck that. hit material can be written by the singers themselves too! FFS.#but oh no sexism doesn't exist in the music industry. much less misogynoir. oh no. (SARCASM)#especially because the Pointer Sisters resisted genre labels especially early on...or at least they had massive amounts of crossover appeal#AND THAT WAS EVEN WITH THE SONGS THAT *THEY* WROTE THEMSELVES AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH#not to sound like a conspiracy theorist but to quote a completely different song and group:#''they just don't want a woman to control her body/or have the right to choose/ ... /they just want a male finger on the button''#(because what IS a woman's right to choose? a woman's right to choose what? ...you know? IT'S ALL interconnected...is my point.)
2 notes
¡
View notes
Text



Iron Man (1968) #51
#gosh this conflict is actually so interesting and it makes sense why they would break up here#but I can definitely see how this could extend into a longer relationship#where sheâs always overwhelmed by visions of what heâs experiencing as Iron Man#and she wants emotional support from him for that#but beyond just him not being great at emotional stuff#he feels that sheâs making his problems about herself through her powers letting her experience his experiences#and is frustrated that she wants support for what heâs actually going through#and so isnât sympathetic to what he sees as not actually her problem#whereas she thinks heâs just an indifferent person that doesnât care about her#which is how she thinks here#but here his conflict is more limited to one action that she took while overwhelmed by a vision in one specific instance#itâs also interesting that earlier in this issue Tony is very openly upset as Iron Man about the failure of a Stark Industries rocket#which the employees initially react to with surprise because they donât see why he would be so invested in it as say Tony Stark#and here when Tony is contacted by an employee in crisis heâs relieved for the distraction from his personal problem#and is short with the employee who is upset and then says he canât be as âcool and unemotionalâ as Tony is#so people are surprised that Iron Man would get upset not because they donât expect that he would get upset#but that itâs strange that he would react like he has a personal stake in it like Tony Stark does when he is not Tony Stark#whereas the expectation of Tony is that he is cold and unemotional like a robot#which he framed at the end here like itâs a great thing#âI may be locked inside this iron machine but itâs a machine gifted with awesome power!â#the expected powers of Iron Man but also the ability to express his emotions#and an escape from what he would be expressing emotions about#marvel#tony stark#marianne rodgers#my posts#comic panels
4 notes
¡
View notes
Text
.
#this website's response to Nolan and his choices are so funny to me#I feel like there's such a huge divide between me and most people here on account of I am in this business#people on here are really really keen to tear him and his movies to shreds and they latch onto whatever they can find#and I feel like most people aren't getting two fundamental Nolan things:#1. you can't know what kind of movie he makes until it's out. it's Nolan. He does things with incredibly specific core ideas in mind#I get the frustration with his odyssey casting but I also feel like people already have a movie in their heads and are judging based on that#my guy we won't know what the point is until we've seen it. and yes; casts work differently depending on what the movie is about at its core#it's Nolan and he does things with a very clear vision in mind#which brings me to#2. this guy is on top of his game like crazy. he's incredibly good if what his actors say about him is true#what they say about his sets is something people in the industry see as virtually impossible#but he manages it#apparently#bonus 3.: his casting is like that because he knows these people. which ties into 2.#he works with the same people for efficiency and because it makes things easier in many aspects#I feel like it's hard to understand what that means if you've never directed before#none of this to say that I don't understand the criticism; I do#but people on here like to act as if he's an overhyped guy who doesn't know what he's doing#and I think that's both a shortsighted and uneducated assumption#and robs us of discussion opportunities on the works of a guy who is incredibly focused detail oriented and passionate about his medium#which I think is a fucking shame#in my opinion#as someone who is extremely passionate about the same medium#edit I also won't fucking hear slander of Matt Damon#just because he's of similar age and one of the big actors doesn't make him Leonardo Dicaprio 2.0#Matt Damon is an actor with one of the best abilities for line delivery I've ever seen#and he's so fucking smart and passionate about movie business#he really really cares about the quality of movies and the development of Hollywood#have you seen interviews with this guy? Be for real rn#not to say he's perfect but he's an A Game Industry voice with interesting things to say. And it's good that people like that exist.
1 note
¡
View note
Text
Adoption Analysis in the North America Vision Care Market By 2033

The Vision Care Industry Analysis in North America is anticipated to expand at a CAGR of 5.8% through 2033. The market is projected to grow from a valuation of US$ 65,326.3 million in 2023 to US$ 114,800.8 million by 2033.
Technological advancements, such as the development of innovative lenses and treatment options, have further fueled the industryâs expansion. The emphasis on proactive eye health management and the adoption of preventive measures by consumers and healthcare providers have also played a crucial role in bolstering the demand for vision care services in the region.
Request a Sample of this Report Now!https://www.futuremarketinsights.com/reports/sample/rep-na-2018
0 notes
Text
How To Become A Brand New Person â¨â¨
Self Reflect:
Journal daily.
Think about past decisions and how they impacted your life.
Meditate regularly.
Create a vision board to visualize your goals.
Review your strengths and weaknesses.
Identify your core values and beliefs.
Figure out your passions and interests.
Think about your childhood dreams and aspirations.
Evaluate your current state of happiness and fulfillment.
Set Clear Goals:
Define specific career goals, like "Get promoted within two years."
Set health goals, like "Lose 20 pounds in six months."
Create financial goals such as "Save $10,000 for a vacation."
Establish personal development goals, like "Read 24 books in a year."
Set relationship goals, such as "Improve communication with my partner."
Define education goals, like "Complete a master's degree in three years."
Set travel goals, like "Visit five new countries in the next two years."
Create hobbies and interests goals, such as "Learn to play a musical instrument."
Set community or volunteer goals, like "Volunteer 100 hours this year."
Establish mindfulness or self-care goals, such as "Practice meditation daily."
Self Care:
Exercise for at least 30 minutes a day.
Follow a balanced diet with plenty of fruits and vegetables.
Prioritize getting 7-9 hours of quality sleep each night.
Practice in relaxation techniques like deep breathing or yoga.
Take regular breaks at work to avoid burnout.
Schedule "me time" for activities you enjoy.
Limit exposure to stressors and toxic people.
Practice regular skincare and grooming routines.
Seek regular medical check-ups and screenings.
Stay hydrated by drinking enough water daily.
Personal Development:
Read a book every month from various genres.
Attend workshops or seminars on topics of interest.
Learn a new language or musical instrument.
Take online courses to acquire new skills.
Set aside time for daily reflection and self improvement.
Seek a mentor in your field for guidance.
Attend conferences and networking events.
Start a side project or hobby to expand your abilities.
Practice public speaking or communication skills.
Do creative activities like painting, writing, or photography.
Create a Support System:
Build a close knit group of friends who uplift and inspire you.
Join clubs or organizations aligned with your interests.
Connect with a mentor or life coach.
Attend family gatherings to maintain bonds.
Be open and honest in your communication with loved ones.
Seek advice from trusted colleagues or supervisors.
Attend support groups for specific challenges (e.g., addiction recovery).
Cultivate online connections through social media.
Find a therapist or counselor for emotional support.
Participate in community or volunteer activities to meet like minded people.
Change Habits:
Cut back on sugary or processed foods.
Reduce screen time and increase physical activity.
Practice gratitude by keeping a daily journal.
Manage stress through mindfulness meditation.
Limit procrastination by setting specific deadlines.
Reduce negative self-talk by practicing self-compassion.
Establish a regular exercise routine.
Create a budget and stick to it.
Develop a morning and evening routine for consistency.
Overcome Fear and Self Doubt:
Face a specific fear head-on (example: public speaking).
Challenge your negative thoughts with positive affirmations.
Seek therapy to address underlying fears or traumas.
Take small, calculated risks to build confidence.
Visualize success in challenging situations.
Surround yourself with supportive and encouraging people.
Journal about your fears and doubts to gain clarity.
Celebrate your accomplishments, no matter how small.
Focus on your strengths and accomplishments.
Embrace failure as a valuable learning experience.
Embrace Change:
Relocate to a new city or country.
Switch careers or industries to pursue your passion.
Take on leadership roles in your workplace.
Volunteer for projects outside your comfort zone.
Embrace new technologies and digital tools.
Travel to unfamiliar destinations.
Start a new hobby or creative endeavor.
Change your daily routine to add variety.
Adjust your mindset to see change as an opportunity.
Seek out diverse perspectives and viewpoints.
Practice Gratitude:
Write down three things you're grateful for each day.
Express gratitude to loved ones regularly.
Create a gratitude jar and add notes of appreciation.
Reflect on the positive aspects of challenging situations.
Show gratitude by volunteering or helping others in need.
Send thank-you notes or messages to people who've helped you.
Keep a gratitude journal and review it regularly.
Share your gratitude openly during family meals or gatherings.
Focus on the present moment and appreciate the little things.
Practice gratitude even in times of adversity.
Be Patient:
Set realistic expectations for your progress.
Accept that personal growth takes time.
Focus on the journey rather than the destination.
Learn from setbacks and view them as opportunities to improve.
Celebrate small milestones along the way.
Practice self-compassion during challenging times.
Stay committed to your goals, even when progress is slow.
Keep a journal to track your personal growth.
Recognize that patience is a valuable skill in personal transformation.
Celebrate Small Wins:
Treat yourself to your favorite meal or dessert.
Reward yourself with a spa day or self-care activity.
Share your achievements with friends and loved ones.
Create a vision board to visualize your successes.
Acknowledge and congratulate yourself in a journal.
Give yourself permission to take a break and relax.
Display reminders of your accomplishments in your workspace.
Take a day off to celebrate a major milestone.
Host a small gathering to mark your achievements.
Set aside time to reflect on how far you've come.
Maintain Balance:
Set clear boundaries in your personal and work life.
Prioritize self care activities in your daily routine.
Schedule regular breaks and downtime.
Learn to say "no" when necessary to avoid overcommitment.
Evaluate your work life balance regularly.
Seek support from friends and family to avoid burnout.
Be kind to yourself and accept imperfections.
Practice mindfulness to stay present and grounded.
Revisit your priorities and adjust them as needed.
Embrace self love and self acceptance as part of your daily life.
#personal improvement#personal development#personal growth#self help#self awareness#self reflection#self improvement#level up journey#self love journey#dream girl guide#dream girl journey#dream girl tips#becoming that girl#that girl#it girl#glow up tips#glow up#clean girl#pink pilates girl#divine feminine#femininity#femme fatale#feminine journey
7K notes
¡
View notes
Text
jeon jungkook - the price of desire
pairing ; idol!jk x corporate girl boss f!reader
genre/tags ; âwe shouldnât but we canât stopâ trope, accidentally in love, enemies to lovers if you squint, grumpy girl boss x cocky idol, angst, smut (and a LOT of it), fluff
summary ; In a world where power is currency and reputation is everything, you have spent years building an empire of influence. As the Chief Marketing Officer of one of the worldâs most elite fashion houses, your word is lawâyour vision, untouchable. Cold, calculating, and always two steps ahead, youâve mastered the art of control.
Then, Jeon Jungkook happens.
A global phenomenon. A household name. A man whose mere presence bends industries to his will. He is the face of your brandâs most ambitious campaign yetâan unstoppable force wrapped in inked skin and effortless charm. To the world, he is perfection. To you, he is a walking risk.
From the moment you meet, it is a battle of power, of wit, of control. He is all teasing smirks and reckless confidence, unafraid to test your limits, to push where no one else dares. You donât have time for his games, but that doesnât stop him from playing.
What starts as business turns into something far more dangerousâa game of seduction and sabotage, of whispered secrets and stolen moments. He wants more than carefully curated press releases and polite smiles. He wants you. And he doesnât care what it costs.
But in this world, desire has a price. Wanting him could cost you everything.
The question is: Are you willing to pay the price?
Ë ŕźâĄ â・ËË ŕźâĄ PLAYLIST HERE Ë ŕźâĄ â・ËË ŕźâĄ
[ MINISERIES ; PART ONE RELEASE DATE 3/21/25 ]
part one
part two
part three
part four
part five
part six
part seven
part eight
comment / reblog with a note if you would like to be a part of the taglist!
psa! this will be published after UTCF is fully completed. patience, my grasshoppers.
#oh I fully workshopped this in under 24 hours.#I had work off again today because my boss is on vacation and I spent all day planning this one out#very high chance it becomes 10 parts#whoâs to say!!!#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#bts#bts army#bts jungkook#bts x reader
533 notes
¡
View notes
Text
for your viewing pleasureâvol. 1



pornstar!eddie x director!reader
all my pornstar!eddie blurbs together at last b/c I hated how I published them originally. the og posts are still here, but they have been edited/expanded somewhat, and Iâve included a âfinaleâ of sorts that is new! index for this story is here.
cw: pornstar!au, soâŚporn. but itâs also a kind of fantasy porn company/industry, so not really at all based in reality or fact. sex work, oral sex (f & m rec), public-ish sex, piv sex.
18+, MDNIâ8.7k
special thanks to @urhoneycombwitch for helping come up with like 90% of this via mutual flailing in my inbox 𼰠ilyaaf
After dark thoughts about pornstar!eddieâŚwho gets fired from his first job.
Because heâs great at sex, but bad at porn.
So, so, so bad. Like, heâs incredible at eating pussy, but incredible because he does it with his whole face completely buried in his co-star. Weâre talking fully and wholly submerged in her folds, as though sheâs his breathing apparatus.
And thatâs great for her, but terrible for camera.
They keep stopping him, telling him he has to pull it back, that they have to see her pussy and they canât with his big head and bigger hair blocking their view. But much like a dog thatâs been told to leave a treat where it is, he keeps edging closer and moving back in little by little until heâs right back where he wants to beâand theyâre yelling âCUTâ and scolding him all over again.
And the girl is getting frustrated because, like, sheâs about to actually come and she looks at the director with this look of pure desperation and âjust do me this solidâplease?â in her eyes.
So he finally lets Eddie get her off and just films super tight on her face and her trembling legs so itâs really obvious how real it really is.
And so they can move the fuck on already.
Then theyâre filming the fucking, and once again Eddie is fucking like he would fuck in real life and the way he fucks in real life is Not. Good. Porn.
Heâs not just slamming into her without any care; heâs not using her to get off; heâs trying to make it good for her. And it is very, very good for her.
Like so good, sheâs this close to giving him her number once they wrap for the day.
Her boyfriend of six years be damned.
And once they wrap, Eddieâs not exactly âfiredâ but heâs pretty sure heâs not getting called back.
Except then the movie comes out and BLOWS UP. People are obsessed. Women are buying it in droves (who knew women even watched porn??) and the VHS is back-ordered to shit.
So the production company is like, âWe gotta lock this kid into a contract. Now.â
And just so weâre clear, he gets that contract.Â
But he (rightfully) feels like he has a bit of juice behind him and refuses to work with that director ever again. And they agree to his terms, but that first guy is hardly an anomaly and Eddie is still butting heads with these other ass hats who keep trying to force him to do it their way.
âMy buddy, my guy, my man, youâre fucking her like sheâs a person and thatâs not gonna sell. It may have worked for you before, but no way does lightning strike the same dick twice.â
So Eddie walks. And heâs ready to call it quits entirelyâŚuntil you approach him.
Because you are former talent, trying to branch out and direct, but no one will take you seriously. So you went to the heads of production and told them even if all they gave you was a shoestring budget and one Eddie Munson, you can spin some gold. Spoiler alertâyou do.
You come to Eddie with your vision of porn for women: story-based, more realistic dialogue, and real orgasms. Some of the same tropes, but done in a way that doesnât feel so tired and gross and vapid and soulless. Something new.
Something different. Something special.
And, oh. He is so on board with that.
Meanwhile, back in Hawkins, the rumor mill is milling. Because how in the hell did Eddie âThe Freakâ Munson become a sex symbol overnight? It has to be a deal with the devilâthatâs the only possible explanation, right? He clearly sold his soul for a magic cock and a porn career.
And Steve Harrington is LIVID.
He would have bet his entire college tuition Eddie was a virgin, but now every babe who comes into Family Video is renting that damn tape.
Theyâre literally pouring in looking for it, marching straight to the back, going behind that red curtain where normally only the creepers go. And they donât so much as blush when Steve scans it.
Robin teases him about it mercilessly. Tells him maybe if he watches it, heâll pick up some new moves. And, like, Steve has watched plenty of porn. He canât imagine Eddie is doing anything that earth-shattering. Thereâs only so much to it, you know? People must just be caught up in the novelty of it being someone that they kind-of sort-of know. It will wear off, it has to.
Then he watches it.
And, ohâŚSteve has been doing sex all wrong.
For one, he wasnât going down on girls. He just wasnât. Heâs not likeâŚagainst it, or anything. But he sort of didnât realize that was a thing? He lost his virginity in high-school for fuckâs sakeâwhat did he know besides porn and magazines? And that was all the same, so wasnât that what girls wanted? (Oh, you sweet summer dingus, Robin would shake her head and lament later.)
SecondlyâŚthe girls he was with never sounded like that. And he never realized just how fake all those other âorgasmsâ in porn sounded until he heard the real deal. Now he canât un-hear it.
From that day forward, for almost two months, they are short one copy of Eddieâs tape because Steve snuck it home in his bag one night after closing. For research purposes only.
No, seriously.
Eddie is a fucking star. Literally.
The second you and he get together, (in a, ahem, professional sense) something shifts. It feels like a long-laid plan plotted from a distant corner of the vast universe has finally come to fruition.
Your first tape is a smash. The camera you get is barely a step up from a hand-held camcorder, but it doesnât matter in the slightest. Even with a bare bones crew (you wind up doing a lot of the sound, the lighting, the editing yourself) and everyone doubting you from the jump, itâs a hit.
The concept isnât anything crazyâEddie shows up to deliver a pizza, and instead the girl accepts his delivery. But you add a twist: the pizza is for a poker game her boyfriend is hosting. He canceled date night for it and sheâs been sitting out here all alone while they play in the other room.
Not on Eddieâs watch.
He goes to town on her, bringing her to the brink three or four times while her boyfriendâs pizzas go cold on the countertop. You push the camera in close on both of them, really trying to give the sense of Eddie as a person. So heâs not just another disembodied guy with a nice dick.
Although his is very, very nice.
His personality shines through when he does things like hike her leg up to fuck into her pussy deeper, chasing her pleasure like her high is his own; and when he grins down at her all devilishly as she tries to stifle her sounds so her âboyfriendâ wonât hear; or when Eddie mocks her, making her own little whines and huffs and squeals right back at her in a way that is so infuriatingly hot.
He talks her through it, locking those big brown eyes of his on her, clutching the back of her neck while she tries to block her moans, until at last she canât hold it back any longer and explodes.
And you have the sound guy stand off to the side and call out, âEverything okay in there, babe?â after sheâs done. Nothing but a shuddering, trembling mess on a black leather sofa.
Cut. Print. Thatâs a wrap, folks.
Eddie is a dream to work with. Heâs collaborative and creative; he communicates effectively and often. You guys are like two halves of the same brain, often anticipating what the other wants before they even know it themselves.
Itâs alarming, almost. To be seen so clearly.
Even short on crew, equipment, time, moneyâyou canât seem to fail when youâre together.
The one thing youâre never short on is actresses. Ever since Eddieâs first tape came out, word of mouth (pun intended) has spread. Rapidly. And since you know most of them, you know who to hire. You know which ones are the flakes, which ones are divas, which ones will vibe best with the kind of set experience youâre trying to create. So Eddie trusts your judgment, completely.
He just waits for you to tell him who heâs fucking and then he does it. And he does it so well.
The fucker has chemistry with everyoneâdown to the guy who brings the sandwiches when you break for lunch. Heâs so charming and funny and considerate practically to a fault. Heâs fully dialed in from the moment he steps on set to when you wrap for the day. And afterwards, heâs checking in with you, making sure you got exactly what you wanted, asking if you want anything else, if you need him to stay because heâll be happy to.
ItâsâŚcompletely and utterly disarming.
He has every right to be a full blown asshole. This entire venture hinges on him and his magic dick, so his head should be as big as a hot air balloon. But he doesnât ever stray from that unflagging decency thatâs so rare in this industry.Â
And you pray he never will.
Itâs Eddie who pitches your next film.
Heâs got this notion of a good girlâa cheerleaderâwhoâs having a hard time and goes looking for weed from the mean and scary tattooed dealer.
(One guess whoâs playing him.)
Except heâs not so mean and scary. Heâs actually kind of a goof, mock-stabbing himself in the heart and flailing around like a clown, throwing himself off the picnic bench you and he dragged out to this clearing at the ass crack of dawn.
All part of the vision, he assured you.
They look great on camera. His dark, wild hair and clothes and everything in direct contrast to her sweet, round face and bright pastel hues and soft waves. Chemistryâs off the charts, as usual. She starts out really nervous and fidgety, but he makes her comfortable and flirts, offers the bud at a discount. And then her brow cocks daringly and she asks if he has anythingâŚstronger.
Cut to her being eaten out like a banquet spread out on this table in the middle of the forest.
Itâs oddly lush and romantic with the rich color of the leaves and the dappled sunlight that filters in through the branchesâa foil to the lewdness of their acts and their wanton sounds.Â
And when theyâre dressed down to nothing, bare skin on bare skin on gray weathered wood, they look almost like forest nymphs or elves caught up in the throes of passion, secluded in the trees.
Especially with the leaves still clinging to Eddieâs hair from when he fell off the table.
Not for the first time, you feel a certain twinge of something that squirms low in the pit of your stomach while you watch them.
Except youâre not watching themâŚbecause you canât take your eyes off of him.
After you wrap, he hangs back. Asks what you thought of the shoot while he helps break down the equipment. Blushes when you tell him you loved it and how good he looked. Explains how it was inspired by these daydreams he used to have about this one girl he knew in high-school.
And you almost, almost, ask him about herâbut youâre cut off by a PA who runs up in a panic.
The studio is calling, and theyâre pissed.
Theyâve just gotten a look at the contract you had drawn up. Rights to a boutique company under their banner, unlimited use of their distribution channels. Full creative control and intellectual property rights to anything and everything.
Plus exclusive use of Eddie.
(Effectively nullifying that horseshit deal they originally gave him for a much, much better one.)
You know theyâre gonna fight you on a lot of itâyou swung big so youâd have plenty of room to negotiateâbut it will all be worth it when they fold. Because you and Eddie have big plans.
You both know youâre onto something special and youâre in it together, to the end of the line.
Apparently, Eddie is also interested in editing.
He shows up to the production offices on a day heâs supposed to be off, but knows you have the editing bay reserved. Brings you coffee and an egg sandwich like a literal angel on earth.
An angel dressed like the devil, maybe. Because heâs got on this tank top with arm holes thatâve been stretched way, way beyond their natural elasticity, drooping down around his ribs and flashing glimpses of his tattoos and the tops of his obliques. And you arenât entirely sure why youâre getting all hot and bothered over a tank top when thereâs not a single intimate inch of his    body you havenât already seen up close and personal through your viewfinder.
In fact, itâs the same body youâre watching fuck the shit out of that girl on the picnic table from a few days ago. And heâs wearing a whole lot less than a tank top.
You share a brief chuckle over itâthe fact that his bare ass is flickering on three screens while you scroll through footage. And itâs not so much that itâs awkward, more like youâre mutually tickled by the fact that itâs not? Thereâs not an ounce of self-consciousness left between you two.
In a way, itâs like there never was.
He asks if you want any help, or if you mind him sitting in. Heâs interested in the process, thinks it might help him on set too. Thereâs such a rich vein of enthusiasm and curiosity in him, a real thirst to be better and to learn. Itâs ridiculous it took him three tries to graduate.
You think itâs a great ideaâŚat first.
But then youâre watching him on the screen with him sitting right next to you. His earthy, woodsy scent layered with the smell of his soap in your nose; his recorded grunts and groans of pleasure in your ears coming through your headphones that are starting to slicken with the sweat.
Itâs all wildly distracting. And you must be some kind of masochist, because (not for the first time) you canât help but wonder how he makes all these women come the way they do.
âSo, uh, whatâŚwhat exactly are you doing here?â
You clear your throat, trying to cover the tremor in your voice as you ask. Eddie scoots in closer, his eyes darting between yours and the screen as he describes the way heâs using his tongue, swirling it around the edges of her entrance, plunging it deep inside her while his nose pushes firmly on her clit. Pretending not to notice your chest heaving with his every word.
âHow do you even breathe?â you chuckle.
âI find my moments,â he says.
Smirks back. Winks.
And uh-oh. When did his hand touch your knee? When did he start to rub his thumb over your bare skin through the hole in your jeans? When did his long, ringed fingers start to curl under your thigh to squeeze it? When did he start to lean further into your space? When did you get so wet?
Heâs close now. It wouldnât take anything for you to bridge the gap and let your lips meet his. You canât, though. You donât. Because it would be soâŚstupid. It would be wrong and bad, and it could jeopardize both of your careers. Everything youâre working towards, totally gone.
Youâre starting the porn for women movement, here. You canât fuck your first star!
And you donât. You keep it professional. You tell him youâre going to call it a day and head home so heâll do the same. But later that night, when he calls with some new ideas for a script, asking if he can run a few lines by you (just to know how it sounds out loud, you know?), and you wind up having the most insane, mind-blowing phone sex of your entire lifeâŚWell, thatâs different.
Thatâs totally and completely different.
The next time you see him, itâs business as usual.
You knew it would be. You two are nothing if not consummate professionals, fully committed to this endeavor. Neither of you would dare let your goals be derailed by a silly little crush.
And it is just a crush. It has to be.
Just the natural result of working so closely with him; of seeing him so completely in his element; appreciating his work ethic and his creativity.
Not to mention the fact that you are consistently watching him have the hottest sex youâve ever seen in your life. But thatâs unrelated.
The next shoot is your biggest yet. Itâs at this massive mansion that youâre dressing to look like a spa with two massage tables set up by the pool that looks like something straight out of a resort. Eddie is playing a masseur who offers a lonely, neglected housewife consolation in the form of his cock after her husband chooses work over their couples massage.
After the success of the pizza delivery tape, you think itâs best you lean hard into the âEddie fucks it betterâ sort of storylines.
Because why not play to your strengths?
Except that the call time of your female lead has come and gone and sheâs nowhere to be found. You know Trina, this isnât like her, sheâs never late. But you called and got no answer. Twice.
The light is perfect, everyoneâs in placeâŚbut thereâs no one for Eddie to fuck.
Even if you could get a replacement, it would take at least an hour for anyone to get out here and that was being generous. By then, the shoot would be way behind and youâve literally only got today in this stupid model home before some fucking billionaire moves in tomorrow.
Itâs gonna be a massive loss of time and money if you donât think of something. Like, right now.
Eddie can see youâre stressed. He comes over and you huddle by your storyboards. And neither of you has to say it, but you both are thinking the exact same thing. As per usual.
You could do it.
Youâre here, for one. And youâve done this plenty of times. It just makes good business sense.
Itâs been a while, and youâre not quite âcamera-readyâ after not having to be for the past couple of months, but you and Eddie have been talking about using more normal-looking bodies; bodies that jiggled and had hair where it grew naturally and are authentically real, regular bodies.
The camera guys know what sort of shots you want and youâve got a bigger crew nowâpeople who know your vision and can help bring it forth.
Plus, youâll be with Eddie. You know heâll take care of you. Heâll be sure that you get exactly what you need, no matter what. Youâd bet your life on it.And, wellâŚyou and he did just rehearse your lines the other night.
The shoot isâŚinteresting.
From the outside, it goes great. Perfect, even. Eddie looks all kinds of cute in his white polo and white pants. Heâs got his long hair twisted up off his neck, a few loose tendrils framing his face.Â
And you somehow forgot until he puts his hands on you the first time that the whole concept for this shoot was born out of the fact that he actually went to massage school for real.
Before you even get to the sex stuff, youâre putty in his hands. He moves them up and down your calves, slides his thumbs over your muscles in a dizzying pattern en route to your thighs.Â
Youâre not even faking the deep moans of relief you let out as he moves up higher and higher⌠arousal promptly pooling between your legs.
He starts going through his lines, striking that perfect balance between his casual, trying-to-be professional voice, while slowly getting more and more desperate and possessive.Â
As if heâs constantly fighting the urge to take you right then. Right now.
Telling you how awful it is your husband chose work over you like this; how you should always be his number one priority; how Eddie would never let you out of his sight if you were hisâŚ
His hands reach your ass and he grips one round globe in each, spreading you apart so he (and the camera) can see how you glisten, the sunlight reflecting like it does off the water in the pool.
You wait for his next lineâwhen he offers you a very âspecialâ massage with a âspecialâ technique he âdoesnât use on just anyone.âÂ
But Eddie goes off script.
He licks a fat, wide stripe directly through your folds and your head pops out of the little headrest at the end of the table, the pure shock and delight on your face captured instantly by the camera.
âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry,â he pleads, his tongue still swirling in between the words muffled by your ass cheeks, like he canât stand to take it away, even to speak. âI had to taste youâŚâ
âItâs okay,â you moan, voice nearly cracking in a dry sob, âItâs okay, just please donât stopââ
And he doesnât. He keeps going until you come, until youâre reaching back behind you to grip his hair as you push your hips back to meet every thrust of his perfect tongue. From there, itâs back to regularly scheduled fucking. He stays on script, peppering in the sort of ad-libs he knows from experience get a good reaction every timeâ
Thatâs it sweetheart, youâre doing so well for me.
Your husband doesnât know what heâs missing.
This pussy is all mine now, you understand?
And, yeah, that stuff gets you off, no problem. But itâs the other stuff he doesâthe quieter, subtle things you arenât expectingâthat really push you over the edge again and again. And again.
Itâs the things he whispers (actually whispers, not stage whispers) low in your ear so youâre the only one who can hear. You feel way too good/I gotta slow down or Iâm gonna come/I know you faked that last one, gimme a real one nowâ
ItâsâŚitâs almost too much. You knew heâd be good, you just didnât expect how good.Â
And you definitely didnât expect to feel the way you do when he checks in between takes: asking if you want more or less of anything, making sure heâs not being too rough, telling you how great youâre doing, apologizing again for that initial snafu. It makes you allâŚfluttery.
But itâs not until after you wrap for the day, after youâve gotten in the shower at home and start to wash off the massage oil spread all over your skin, that you realize Eddie never kissed you.
Not once.
When Eddie calls later that week, itâs to ask you out. Not on a date, though.Â
Which is good. Really, it is. A relief, even. Because contrary to the way your heart leapt into your throat when he asked if you were busy this weekend, you absolutely cannot date him.
It doesnât matter that youâre attracted to him. Or that you came out of your eyeballs multiple times with him the other day. Or that you havenât been able to think about anything besides him since.
You. Canât. Date.
Youâre pretty much his boss, donât forget. Maybe not technically, maybe not on paperâbut if you start something up with him, it will be messy and complicated and it could put everything you and he have worked for in jeopardy. More than that, you donât want anyone thinking he got where he is by any other means besides his hard work (pun intended). Heâs earned everything heâs gotten.
And now that includes an award.
Thatâs what heâs calling about. Heâs been nominated for what is essentially the porn equivalent of an Oscar for that first tape he made. And now he has to go to this ceremony, except heâs sort of freaking out because heâs never done anything like this before and heâs really nervous and he kind of needs you there because âyouâre the only one Iâm always comfortable with.â
So he asks if youâll go with him. As friends.
And you say you will. And itâs fine. You can do this, you can do this, you can do thisâFUCK.Â
Why does he have to be so hot? Showing up in a black Prada suit with a sheer shirt underneath? Almost as bad as wearing nothing under it at all. Worse, maybe.
Itâs unbuttoned nearly to the middle of his torso, layered chains dangling low, hanging around that tree trunk of a neck you canât stop wishing you could sink your teeth into, wrap a hand aroundâ
Nope. Nope. Youâre not going there. The only place youâre going tonight is these awards.
Except when you get there, the organizers donât want you photographed with Eddie. At least not arriving together. People still arenât familiar with you as a director, and you havenât starred in a project in months. Thatâs practically a century in porn time.
Plus, the tape Eddie is nominated for you didnât even work on. It wouldnât make any sense.
Eddie is immediately poised to protest, but neither of you is given much of an opportunity. While youâre shuffled into the long line of people already being photographed in front of the venue, heâs being whisked away so he can walk with the girl he starred in that very first film with.
You know her, sort of. You did a group scene once upon a time. Sheâs a biter.
They even sneak him into her limo so it looks like they came together. He gets out first and then holds out a hand to help her, a storm of flash bulbs going off, making her jumpsuit sparkle.
And you tell yourself not to watch. You try to smile pretty for your own pictures and look like you are having a good time. Or at least not look like youâre chewing on glass. But itâsâŚdifficult.
Especially when you look up at the worst possible timeâthe exact moment she places a dainty hand on his chest and he turns his face toward hers, their lips meeting for a long kiss.Â
Long enough for every camera there to capture it.And the very last shot they get of you that night is one of your back as you head inside to get a drink. Or ten. Trying not to think about this sour, putrid, inconvenient feeling in your chest.
Eddie should have walked with you.Â
He should have done a lot of things, actually.
He should have told those uppity event coordinators to fuck off. He should have ignored that girl from his first film when she whispered under her breath for him to look at her. He should have dodged that sticky, tacky kiss she planted on his lips without any kind of warning.
He should have asked you out for real instead of hiding behind this âas friendsâ bullshit.
Maybe if he had, heâd be tasting your lipgloss instead of the glittery mess he was wiping off his chin. Maybe it would be your hand in his as you walked the carpet. And maybe it would be him getting you a drink and clinking his glass with yours instead of the guy youâre with right now.
Eddie knows him. Well, he doesnât know him, he recognizes him from a tape with some absurd name like Sex Kittens 4 that featured a surprising amount of doggy style, considering the title.
Plus you in a never-ending stream of animal-print bikinis.
(He definitely did NOT go looking for every movie youâd ever made. No, that would be ridiculous. He just sort ofâŚhappened across one. Or five.)
And itâs not that heâs jealousâbecause thereâs nothing to be jealous of. You met him doing a job. A job very much like the one you did with Eddie. Youâre just catching up with an old coworker.
Itâs fine. Totally fine. Did he mention itâs fine?
But then Tom Wanks put his hand on your hip, and before Eddie can take even a second to think, or to rationalize his actions, heâs striding up to you and taking your hand to drag you away.
The beaded fringe on your dress swishes noisily as he brings you with him behind a curtain that was set up as a backdrop for more photos. In the shadows behind it, your eyes glint a little meanly and your voice is barbed when you ask what the hell is the matter with him.
And heâs really not sure.
Because much like you, heâs not used to this; heâs not used to not saying exactly what is on his mind at any given time; heâs not used to holding anything backânot when it comes to you.
âI should have stayed with you,â he blurted out at last. âThat was messed up, Iââ
Your face falls and you dodge his gaze. âItâs fine, Eddie. Donât worry about it.â
âBut I am worried about it,â he shot back. âI could have said something, I could have told themââ
âWhat for?â you mutter, arms crossing in front of your chest. You look at the floor, hurt. Not just hurt, disappointed. âI mean, whatâŚwhat would be the point? Itâs not like weâreâŚor that youâreâŚâ
He watches the words stall behind your lips, all of them trying to fight their way out like people on a crowded bus. But in their efforts, they only wind up clogging the exit so nothing gets through.
âGod, listen to me!â you laugh bitterly. âI sound like some crazy, jealousâŚsomething, and I donât know why Iâm getting this upset when you donât even like meââ
âWait, what? Who the fuck said that?â
He can tell youâre shocked by the panic that rises in his voice, staring back at him wide-eyed.
âWh-when we were filming, you never kissed me. So I thoughtâŚâ
You fell silent as Eddieâs hands covered the sides of your face. Softly cradling your jaw, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks, he stares straight into your eyes and determinedly holds your gaze.Â
Your breath stuttered, so lost in those deep brown pools you could hardly recall your own name. And even if you could speak, you werenât entirely sure what you wanted to say.
Luckily, Eddie gave you something better to do with your mouth.
His lips meet yours in a gentle brush. His hold on your face never tightens, but you can feel the way his fingers flex like heâs resisting the urge to grip you harder. Thereâs a tenacity in his kiss, as if heâs trying to savor the taste of you, but struggling not to devour you whole.
You break apart too soon for his liking. He easily would have stayed there forever. And he braces himself for whatever might be comingâa slap across his face, a knee straight to his balls.
He might deserve both, but receives neither.
You donât pull back so much as an inch, happy to let him keep your face close to his. He inhales shakily, still breathing you in, âI didnât want the first time I did that to be on camera.â
You chuckle at him, dazed and grinning, trying to decide if this is a dream or not. If it is, you donât ever want to wake up. You want to live in it. Your own hands creep up his stomach, tugging on his silky shirt, feeling the way he shivers in it when he feels the caress of your fingertips.
âWhat about the second?â you whisper.
And then heâs kissing you again.
Deeper. Hungrier. Messier.
Heâs not kissing you like itâs his job; like heâs just doing what was written for him in a scriptâheâs doing it like itâs the only thing heâs ever wanted, desired, chosen to do. Like itâs all he needs.
Your bare back meets the cool wall as he pushes you up against it, sliding his hand inside the slit of your dress, hooking it under your knee to hitch your leg over his hip. He presses every single inch of himself against your seam, harder than heâs ever been in his whole fucking life.
The closest second being when you and he filmed just a few days ago.
You claw at him, pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders, pulling open more buttons on his shirt until the gossamer fabric tears and unravels.
âMore,â he begs, kisses trailing down your neck. âFucking please, sweetheart, I need moreââ
Your hand takes on a life of its own, sliding down to cup his length through the luxurious suiting. It causes him to release a deep, desperate moan you can feel his lips spreading apart to let out. The sound of it ripples through your body like an electric shock in every extremity.
The dull roar of the crowd right on the other side of that curtain is only barely enough to cover the sound of you and Eddieâs passions. His touch is so enthralling, so engrossing, you are this close to letting him fuck you right there.
Room full of people be damned.
Eddie seems to have the same idea, his mouth blazing a trail down the middle of your chest and stomach as he drops to one knee, his other foot planted to support himself as he drapes your leg over his shoulder. A rush of excitement floods your body as you realize his intentions, fingers sliding into his unruly curls to grip them at the crown of his head.
But the very second his fingers pull your panties to the side and his tongue finds its home in your folds, a commotion breaks through your bliss.
Thereâs a loud crash as a cater waiter stumbles into the curtain obscuring your entangled bodies and drags it down with them as they fall.
Light floods the darkened space and a sound of collective amusement ripples through the crowd. No one is exactly surprised to see people hooking upâbut itâs usually not until the afterparty.
Cocktail hour isnât even over, for crying out loud.
Then they realize who it is.
The shutters of opportunistic photographers snap as you give Eddieâs hair a sharp tug. But he just moans loudlyâtoo absorbed in what heâs doing to even realize whatâs happened.
Finally, you pull him off your clit and he looks over his shoulder at the rest of the room.
Another round of snaps and flashes go off and his eyes return to yours, brightening when he sees the way youâre covering your mouth, fighting back laughter. His own lips, still shiny with your arousal, spread into a wide grin. His gaze lands on an emergency exit and he jumps to his feet, taking your hand in his and pulling you towards it tucked securely under his arm.
Flipping off the room behind him as you leave.
Together.
The trip back to your apartment is the longest cab ride of your life.
Whereas on the way to the convention center, youâd ridden mashed against your door trying to leave a respectable distance across the middle seat, Eddie practically has you in his lap on the way back. Itâs like he thinks heâll die if he stops touching you for even a secondâlips on your neck, his hands roaming hungrily, whispering filth in your ear under the cover of the radio.
You do your best to catch the driverâs eye in the rearview, trying to shoot him an apologetic look or at least mouth a wholly insincere âsorryâ for the display. But he seems unphased.
Still, you stuff a wad of extra bills in his hand as you scramble out of his car. Unceremoniously crashing through the front door, youâre lucky not to break it down in your haste to get Eddie inside.
Of your apartment, that is.
Lips locked for every step across your cramped studio, you tumble to the bed and let out a soft grunt when a plastic hanger digs into your back. Hearing you yelp, Eddie pulls back and can see youâre lying on top of the ten or so discarded outfits you went through trying to decide on what to wear tonight. Sequins rustle under your bodies as the bed shakes with your gentle laughter, and Eddie drops a kiss to the tip of your nose before he climbs off you. Reluctantly.
He watches while you gather the dresses strewn across the bed, smiling when you try and stuff them back in your closet, fumbling with only the amber street light filtering through your blinds to see by. When you finally turn back to face him, heâs still smiling. Head tilted at you, eyes slowly raking over your form, heart rate picking up in his chest when yours do the same to him.
The pause is nice. It gives you both a minute to catch your breaths, for your brains to catch up with your bodies. Your steps turn careful and slow as you move towards him. With trembling fingers, he pulls open the last remaining buttons of his sheer shirt and lets it fall to his feet.
Remembering only just now that his jacket is still on the floor of that hotel ballroom.
You come to a stop in front of him and he closes the distance left. He reaches around you and pulls down the zipper of your dress, fingertips dragging lightly along your spine as he reveals it.
Itâs the closest youâve ever come to feeling like a gift someone is unwrapping.
With your dress pooled around your ankles, Eddieâs hands are free to wander. He runs them up and down your arms, sweeping them along the inside of your wrists to twine your fingers with his. He brings them to his lips to kiss and the sight of plush pink brushing your knuckles is bordering on being too much to handleâmore erotic than anything youâve ever filmed.
Heâs going slow because itâs slowly dawning on him what youâre about to do.Â
And how this time itâs not going to be for work or for a camera. Itâs going to be real.Â
ExceptâŚis it going to be real?
Should he do something different than what he did when you filmed? How can he, when he used all his best moves during the shoot? ShitâŚ
He doesnât want you thinking heâs just doing with you the same thing he does with everyone else; that thisâthat youâarenât special to him.
Then suddenly, heâs not going slow anymore.
Heâs stopped completely.
âYou okay?â you whisper.
âY-yeah,â he chokes out, like the word is made of sawdust. âI just, ahhhâŚI donât know, I think Iâm psyching myself out? Thinking too hard.â
âThinking about what?â you whisper, your teeth tugging back your bottom lip.
His head just shakes, eyes still scanning your face while his thumb lightly strokes your jaw, until he lets out a sigh thatâs heavy with fondness and whispers, âHow I donât want to mess this up.â
He takes another deep breath, letting his forehead rest against your own as his chest shudders. Confounded as to how something heâs done in front of a whole-ass camera crew could make him feel so self-conscious when itâs just you here with him. A few seconds of silence pass until his lips part in a smirk and his gaze cuts to the side, right to where a camera would be.
âIs it just meâŚor does it feel like something is missing?â
It takes a few minutes of digging to find your old camcorder buried in the depths of your closet.Â
Eddie chuckles when you emerge, brandishing it with a flourish and a little ta-da! before you set it on top of your dresser pointed at the bed, angling it slightly to properly frame the shot.
The red light blinks as you hit ârecord,â barely taking a second to check if thereâs a tape inside. You let it run, capturing your figures half in shadows as he sits on the bed and pulls you into his lap. He helps you settle on his thighs, runs his hands up the backs of yours, slips his long fingers under the elastic band of your panties to rest on your hip. He pulls them back and snaps them softly on your skin, earning a hum of approval from behind your pressed lips.
You wriggle on top of him and delight in how it makes his chest reverberate with a low groan.
âThat better?â you whisper, the answer to your question immediately stiffening underneath you. He nods fervently, his voice tight and strained as he struggles to keep his cool.
âWanna taste you,â he grunts out roughly.
He moves his hands to grip your waist so he can flip you underneath him, but your hands find his shoulders and stop him before he can.
Big, doleful eyes look up at yours, his face etched with concern as you shake your head. His bottom lip wobbles as he searches your face for why.
In a reassuring press, you mash your lips to his and lace your fingers behind his neck. You kiss all the air out of his lungs, until his fingertips are digging into your flesh hard enough to leave ten tiny bruises. You kiss him like youâre trying to take the weight of the world off his shoulders, like youâre going to accept his every burden as your own so he doesnât have to carry them alone.
Thereâs a quiet pop as your mouths separate and you press your chest flush with his, wrapping your arms around his neck so your lips find his ear as your nose nudges through his curls.
âTell me you want me,â you whisper. âTell me how much you want this.â
âI donât want it,â he groans back, âI need it. Iâve needed it since I fucking met you.â
The heat in his voice, the rumble of it in your ear, causes a wave of arousal to rush through your body. You unwind your arms from around his neck and slip slowly, painfully slowly, from his lap to stand between his legs. You place a finger under his chin and tip his face up for him to look at you, your thumb settling in the tiny dip at its center. Too small to see, it could only be felt.
âEveryone always uses you,â you tell him softly, almost mournfully.
His eyes stay wide and hopeful, never leaving yours as you sink down to your knees. His long, dark lashes flutter as your hands run up his muscled thighs, the edges of your thumbs grazing the outline of his cock. He hisses through his teeth and you grin devilishly at the sound.
âI want you to use me,â you instruct him. âTake whatever you need, as much as you want.â
And you can literally see how your words affect him, his eyes bugging wide as the wheels in his head are turning behind them. He reaches out to touch your face and you turn it to kiss his palm.
âSweetheart, Iâoh, fuck,â he gasps, cut off with your sudden squeeze of his clothed cock.
âIâll stop you if I need a break,â you reply firmly.
The muscles in his neck pull taught as he nods. He leans back on one elbow, reluctant to let his other hand leave your face. You kiss his bare stomach along the top of his waistband and he curls his hand around the back of your head, gripping it tighter when you tug down his fly.
And you knew Eddieâs dick well by now. You knew it inside of you as well as out. But there was nothing that could have prepared you for the sight of it tonight. Thick, and veiny, and weeping with pre that dribbles down its sides. Heâs almost ashamed of it, almost embarrassed by how hard he is for you; by how close he is to blowing his load when youâve not even gotten started.
It was practically a miracle he didnât soil the inside of his suit when you pulled his hair earlier.
His pupils are blown out when your eyes meet his, your lips hovering so close to his cock he can feel your breath on it. Saliva pools under your tongue so rapidly, you almost feel like youâre at risk of it spilling out of your mouth and running down your chin when you speak.
âFuck my throat, Eddie. Please.â
And he does. He lets you set the pace at first, still holding fast on the back of your head he watches your lips surround his tip. His chest heaves with deep, gasping breaths as you take him fully into your mouth and start to bob on his perfect cock. Itâs almost too much, too perfect, the feeling of your warm, wet mouth and your soft tongue and, fuck, your handâ
He pants wildly as you cradle his sack, your fingertips stroking them and spreading the spit from your mouth thatâs dribbling down his shaft to his balls. They tense in your palm and his stomach tightens the faster your mouth moves, the more your throat relaxes to take him in deep.
The man who gives the best head imaginable finally having the favor returned.
âJesus ChristâŚâ
Eddie's words are whispered like a prayer and you look up to take in the sight of him.
Eyes pinched shut, his brows drawn like heâs in pain even though the sounds heâs releasing are nothing short of euphoric. You tease all the most sensitive nooks and crannies of his cock, all the places that make his eyes roll back and his head loll on his shoulders and his chest heave. Every ridge, every vein, every muscle that twitches under the attention of your tongue.
âOh, plâŚp-please,â he gasps, tightening his hold on your hair to still your movements as his hips start to move in an instinctive and primal thrust.
He hits the back of your throat and you swallow more of him down, taking him deeper, deeper until your nose brushes the wiry hair at his base.
You groan around his length, enthralled by the exquisite ache of him hitting your soft palate, and the sound is Eddieâs undoing. He lets out a long, low moan and spills hot and thick down your throat. His arm trembles as he fights his own iron grip on the back of your head, forbidding himself from pulling your hair. You can feel the tremors of his fingers against your scalp.
His abdomen spasms as you stroke him through the aftershocks, flirting with overstimulation. Fucked-out eyes, heavy-lidded and sleepy, but nothing short of reverent, find yours and theyâre wetâshiny, shimmering with tears that crowd their rims and threaten to spill down his cheeks.
Quick as you can, youâre on your feet cradling his jaw to ask if heâs okay. And Eddie canât answer, can only nod as he kisses, kisses, kisses your palm, the heel of your hand, your wrist, down the inside of your arm all the way to your elbow.
He canât kiss you enough, it seems.Â
You giggle softly as you sit beside him and reach out to ruffle his bangs, tucking some of his hair behind his ear and letting your touch linger on his neck. With the pad of your thumb, you brush a tear that has leaked out of the corner of his eye. He looks back at you with a smile and swipes the pad of his thumb along the corner of your mouth to wipe away a drop of his spend.
And you know thereâs still a lot left to figure outâdamage control that will have to be done, difficult conversations that will have to be had. There will be whispers and rumors and sidelong glances.
Not to mention the firestorm those pictures of you two at the ceremony will undoubtedly stir up.
But none of that matters right now. Nothing does, beyond this bed and this night. Nothing else even exists outside the confines of this room.
All that matters is you and him.
You lay there for a while, justâŚbeing. Your fingers tracing his tattoos and the soft planes of his chest and stomach; his, the slope of your shoulders and the lines of your body heâs always wanted to know better. Quiet words pass back and forth, teasing jokes and soft confessions. Admissions of fears that held you both back and donât seem so daunting anymore. Donât seem so scary.
When heâs hard again, you pick up the camera and point it at him as you guide him to lay on his back. You push in close on his face when you sink down fully onto his length and start to ride him at an egregiously slow pace just so your shot holds steady. And because he looks so pretty taking it.
âSomething wrong, Ed?â you goad him a smidge, toying with him in more ways than one when your pussy squeezes so tight around his cock it makes him lose his breath and pant out of control.
âF-fuâŚfuuuuuck meeeeâŚâ he whines and writhes, throwing his head back into the mattress.
âOh,â you chuckle at him, speeding up just a hair, âIâm sorry, is that not what I was doing?â
His head jerks up, eyes ablaze as he stares you down through the camera lens. You peer at him over the top of the viewfinder and shiver despite the thin layer of sweat building on your skin.
Okay, yeah, that might have been a little too far. Or just far enough, you think, almost giddy.
âNah,â he growls, the corner of his mouth curling up in a smirk. âSorry is what youâre gonna be.â
A loud squeal bursts out of you as he rolls your bodies to the side and pins you underneath him, somehow managing to keep himself seated inside you the whole time. Breathless, you watch as he takes the camera from you and practically tosses it away so he can hold your arms over your head. For a while, all it captures is a blurry close-up of your duvet cover, the frame shaking in time with every deep, solid thrust of Eddieâs hips that rattles the entire bed and you in it when he gets going.
Your moans and his grunts mix in a symphony that will surely earn you some side-eyeing from your neighbors tomorrow, but you canât bring yourself to give a single ounce of a shit.
The song that you make together swells to a crescendo as you topple over the precipice youâve been dangling off the edge of practically from the moment you met him. Eddie fumbles like mad for the camera and picks it up, recording your blissful expression before he swoops in to press his lips back to yours. Kissing you like heâs trying to eat you, like heâs trying to fuse your faces.
Youâre certainly not complaining.
And now that heâs the one with the camera, heâs eager to keep going. He pans it up and down your whole body, guiding you into every filthy position heâs been imagining all those long nights alone in his bed. Through his eyes behind the lens, thereâs not a single angle on you that isnât pristine.Â
He gets you up on all fours, films tight on your ass as he squeezes it and cracks his palm down on it when he lets go. The sting makes you keen, your back arching as your hips thrust backâseeking more, more. His hand then smooths over your buzzing flesh, soothes the ache heâs made.
And even as youâre making it, you can tell this is not just another sex tape.
Itâs a love tape.
thank you for reading â love you, mean it! đď¸
#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things eddie#eddie stranger things#eddie munson smut#stranger things
862 notes
¡
View notes
Note
Hello there! I was wondering if you would be willing to write a request that I thought up? No pressure of course. I'd love to read your rendition of it but if you don't want to that is absolutely and of course fine.
So I am a pretty emotional person, and especially when I am pmsing or on my period its a very common sight for me to be silently crying over a sad reel or a photo of a puppy or sobbing loudly if I re-read my comfort angsty fic. I really crave physical affection and coddling during my period which sucks cause I live with 2 dormmates who sleep 2 steps away from me and aren't very touchy but are very loving. Like today my friend showed me a photo of her holding a puppy who was nuzzling into her sweatshirt, claws out and hooked in her sleeve and all and ofc I started crying. My other roommate was like don't show it to her she's on her period, she will cry. But then she was like, on second thought do, I enjoy her tears đ.
On to my actual request now, sorry for rambling đ
So I was wondering if the reader had a similar tendency with her emotions and hormones around her cycle, how the marauders would deal with it you know? Would they be used to it, asking if its just a leaky faucet to let some emotional pressure out (that happens a lot with me lol) or actual crying. If they would be freaking out no matter how often it happens. Or how they would coddle her.. very curious to see if you pick this up! Thanks for reading nonetheless <3<3
Haha thank you for your request angel <3
cw: reader who menstruates, mention of animals in televion industry, Sirius is not good with tears
poly!marauders x fem!reader ⥠644 words
You try not to make a spectacle of yourself. You really do. You hide in the corner of the couch, feeling the burn of your sinuses and eventually letting a couple of tears roll down your face without lifting a hand to wipe them. Your throat squeezes. Your temples ache.Â
Despite your best efforts, all it takes is one tiny sniffle to get the attention of your boyfriends.Â
Jamesâ arm tightens around your shoulders. His cheek squishes into your head, voice heavy with sympathy as you both look at the TV. âI know, angel. It ends alright, though, yeah?âÂ
âAll he does,â you choke out, watching the dog on the screen through blurry vision, âis wait for his owner to come home every day. Thatâs his whole life.âÂ
âItâs an advert for dog kibble!â Sirius protests.Â
You shrug, weeping, and Sirius gives a short laugh tinged with anxiety. Remus sets a hand on his knee.Â
âSweetheart,â Remus says gently, âIâm sure that in real life, that dog is very well taken care of. He probably gets plenty of attention and time with his owners. Heâs famous, right?âÂ
You nod, though you canât help a tiny sob as the on-screen dog sits straight up at the sound of a key in the door. âRight.âÂ
âRight.â Remus gives you a kind look. âYou okay? Not upset about anything else?âÂ
âYeah.â You sniffle weakly. âMâokay, just. My head hurts.âÂ
James makes the sort of syrupy pitying sound that has your throat contracting all over again. âDo you think it might be the crying, lovie? Itâs not the first time that commercialâs been on today. You could be dehydrated.âÂ
âI donât know,â you say, quietly. âI donât think so.âÂ
âIâll fetch you a paracetamol and some water to be sure.â Remus stands, patting Siriusâ thigh consolingly when the other boy shifts off his lap with the movement. He touches the top of your head as he walks behind the couch, and James kisses the spot as though to second it.Â
âBaby.â Sirius turns to you with a stern look. âFirst the Lorax last night, and now this? The adâs not even on anymore; itâs finished.âÂ
âItâs justâŚâ You swallow, fighting to keep your voice solid. âDo you think all pets feel like that? When their people leave to go to work?âÂ
âNo, honey,â James consoles you. âI think theyâre happy to amuse themselves while weâre gone.âÂ
âTheyâre perfectly fine,â says Sirius, not unkindly. âStop crying.âÂ
âDonât be mean.â James gathers you closer. âSheâs on her period, sheâs entitled to some crying.â
âItâs like the hiccups, James. Youâve got to scare it off.âÂ
âThatâs barbaric.âÂ
âWhatâs barbaric is the television industry that keeps making our girlfriend burst into tears at random points in the day!âÂ
âYou guys.â Youâre nearly laughing now. With tears still wet on your cheeks, Sirius hardly looks comforted. âDonât fight.âÂ
âWeâre not fighting.â James is quick to mollify you.Â
âOh, dovey.â Remus returns with your painkillers, bending to wipe your face with a put upon frown. âAre they upsetting you?âÂ
âGod, no.â Sirius reclines back against the cushions, blowing a breath up towards the ceiling. âWhat chance have we of doing that, when thereâs wealthy dog actors to do it for us?âÂ
You take the water Remus has brought you, downing the painkiller. âDo you really think the dog gets decent money from the advert?â you ask as he pets your hair dotingly.Â
James ponders this. âEven if itâs not very much, Iâd bet his owners put as much of it back into him as they can. He probably sleeps on a memory foam dog bed.âÂ
Sirius is watching your face distressedly. âBaby,â he nearly pleads. âItâs okay.âÂ
âNo, thatâs good,â you manage, voice a quiet squeak as your eyes fill again. âI just think thatâs a really nice life for him. He deserves it.âÂ
#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly marauders#poly marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders scenario#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#poly!marauders oneshot#the marauders#marauders x reader#marauders era#hp marauders
794 notes
¡
View notes
Note
little random but i really appreciate your dissections and analysis of Mel mainly bc the fandom either adore her and won't admit she is a flawed character and get over defensive when you call her out, or straight up hate her and make her out to be completely evil.
Mel is written as morally grey for a reason and when ppl try to act like she was morally correct in everything she did, it goes against the whole plot. yes, she regrets most of her actions by the end of the series and is left to deal with her family's leagacy and the weight of her actions, but that doesn't undo anything she did. and her eventually starting to care about Jayce doesn't just cancel out that she manipulated him (you'd think this would be obvious)
what bothers me the most i think is meljay shippers who say Jayce mistreated her and that Mel only ever helped and care about him and aided him in rising to power politically, and how she was so understanding of Jayce's and Viktor's friendship. yes, encouraging methods of political corruption in order to gain more power is so caring and kind of her! â¤ď¸
Mel might've told Jayce to go spend time with Viktor after finding out he was ill, but the one time in the show she interacted with Viktor was... prejudiced to say the least. she never directly spoke to or answered Viktor, and the expression on her face any time she looked over at Viktor was so clearly full of dislike. it shocks me ppl still believe Mel and Viktor could get along and respect one another, especially romantically. no way.
anyways, sorry for the rant. just tired of how many bad takes there are in this fandom and very fond of your account lol
you are right and you SHOULD say it re: that oft repeated argument about her "only wanting what's best for him" bothers me so much. Its just... weirdly patronizing and spousing pro-piltover nationalism every time i see it being brought up. "She's doing what anyone would do/what is best for the city!" IDK MAN I AM NOT ROCKING WITH THAT. Im not an ubercapitalist. I don't think any of that was the good option actually lol. Probably I hate piltover too much to humor these arguments but from day 1 we are shown this is a city of immense class inequality in which the elite few holds all the power and all the profit gains at the cost of everyone else's submission and humanity. (Not for nothing: these are also the classic old guard Noxian tenets of supremacy. That's how they do colonization.)
The interactions Mel has with Jayce for majority of the series, before she watches that bomb come in and has her rapid onset change of heart, are her talking about how investors want his work and how she can use his discovery to advance this city (which is already built on exploitation!) or instigating his rise to power as a new ringleader for the council's rigged mercantile operations, and this is just not good or heroic in any way to me. This isn't love either, it's industrial convenience. The fact that she's conflicted by the end doesn't cancel these actions out! Jayce realizes that he's been used in ways he strongly disagrees with and any the affection in that dynamic vanishes instantly. The time he spends in isolation replaying his mistakes in that cave has an emphasis on mel/heimerdinger's voice on the council too, all of his regrets with blindly following someone else's vision or disappointing an idol he held in high regards.
And Jayce DOES care about the state of the cities, or he did before the writers forgot: He's the one who pleads for Zaun's independence at the end of season 1! He's the one who spent all his life trying to work towards improving the lives of common people, giving them the miracles they've been denied!
Viktor is a fucking nobody. He is extremely worthless in the eyes of the piltovan upper crust, only kept around on the merits working with Jayce have afforded him; and they still don't care. They're probably hoping he dies quicker. We *SEE* him being singled out and alienated during that weapons discussion where Mel is pleading for Jayce to think about "protecting his people" (only piltovans, never, ever zaunites- protecting piltovans against the zaunite menace.) and Viktor is set off at that whole exchange because it doesn't matter how loud he screams, these people can just tune him off and pretend he doesn't exist anyway. It's what they're used to doing. It drives me insane!!!!! His indignation is extremely under-explored and very inline with his act1 speech of feeling like an undesirable presence in piltover and having to push through with the grit of his teeth. It's open faced classism and I still see people pretending it didn't happen. Fandom makes all of these characters FAR less interesting by defanging them. The heart is in the friction and in the ugliness of them fucking up because they have very, very different conceptions of "utopia" - and some of those utopias require the death of the other characters present.
A lot of the Arcane character arcs have to do with realizing the above, and weighing if the sacrifice is worth the risk. Sometimes it turns out their utopias were shit.
#meta tag#jayvik#jayce talis#viktor arcane#mel medarda#heimerdinger#arcane#jayce arcane#hexposts#jayce league of legends#league of legends#vikjayce#viktor league of legends#jayce lol#viktor lol
601 notes
¡
View notes
Text
SPECTRE
giselle x m reader
32k words
part one of silken promises

This astonishing thing about fate you realize - probably, is that it doesnât 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, youâd wipe off the ink immediately after; call the offer off and hide under the flashing lights, waiting to reap you of your secrets.Â
In pure and utter laziness, youâre saying: âWell, I just had a different vision of it in my head, of how all of this would play out.âÂ
Giselle twists her face to you with a raised eyebrow, clearly insulted.Â
âSure, 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-âÂ
She flicks away her cigarette. âItâs an arranged marriage, you dumbass. They wouldnât care how we thought itâd go either way.âÂ
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 dealâs ludicrous; you consider it to be archaic - as a counterargument, you think, and holds your point there.Â
âNow that youâve signed the damn papers finally,â Giselle proposes, âHow do you want to go about this?â She asks, already wondering what will make the two of you being âofficiallyâ together.Â
Your answer didnât 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 youâre getting yourself into.Â
â
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:Â
Youâve 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 fatherâs dead body. Heâs overseen the companyâs 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 youâd focused on writing, or architecture. Youâre not so entirely sure yourself, but your luck in being born into a family thatâs made themselves well off two to three decades away from retiring and enjoying the tempting pastures that life has to offer; itâll happen soon, but needless to say: youâre rich, and pretty famous.Â
Thereâs 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 fatherâs 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 motherâs got her nose in some brands that crossover with her mutuals. Then, thereâs the daughter.
On another refresh and through a different outlet of news on your phone, you see this one website was claiming that the Uchinagaâs 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.Â
Right off the bat, she looks amazing in the photo, thereâs no denying that. Itâs got everything within the lines of glitz and glamor, considering the amount of effort that theyâve 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 itâs written in ink); Giselle Uchinagaâs 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.Â
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 âit girlâ thatâs got nearly all the rich guys or guys with notable profiles fawning over her when sheâs in close proximity. She seems very camera shy at times, and thatâs apparent when your shoulder shields half of her face when youâre beaming the widest smirk that you could wear. In a way, this still serves as a clear foreshadowing thatâs 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.Â
(Itâs a pairing that the people realize that itâs the kind of pairing that wasnât wanted, but needed.)
The pictures from the party continue to get swiped across the screen. And you can kind of see what everyoneâs been talking about.Â
Sure, thereâs 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 youâve falsely put up in your mind to make sure that youâre not thinking about the different kinds of âwhat ifâsâ and âmaybeâsâ.
You and Giselle arenât exactly friends, just mere acquaintances - to better the title between you two at best.Â
(Youâve played it safe, however: away from the tabloids, not getting yourself into any kind of trouble whether itâs outside of office hours or in various business dealings that you were tasked with. Needless to say, youâve got it easy; while the same canât really be said for Giselle, whoâs always getting herself into trouble. Sheâs 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 herâs, but the familyâs as well.
Aside from that infamous picture of you and her together at the birthday party, thereâs also one other article from a shady news source that only focuses on the worst in celebrities. Sheâs managed to put herself right into the primed position - where sheâs 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.)Â
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. Itâs laughable that people online are calling for this waiting ship to sail.Â
So much for saying that you and Giselle are just âmere acquaintancesâ to each other, but youâll let the rumors curdle in speculation.Â
â
This merger, however, was supposed to be seen with a positive outlook in mind.Â
It was supposed to be seen as a healthy, mutual relationship between the two parties of your family and Giselleâs 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.Â
Doesnât 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 Giselleâs father in a business venture gone bad years ago. Murky details aside, but weâll just say that thereâs blood on someoneâs 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.Â
Luckily, they agreed to the hush-money settlement, with some persuasive (and questionable methods, but you couldnât care fuck all about their overall condition physically) methods from your familyâs 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.Â
So.
There was an agreement thatâs 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.Â
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 Giselleâs family to discuss terms and conditions, but sheâs also done the same in not being in attendance. A form of protest that you didnât even get in contact with her to do, but youâre also content that sheâs on the same page as you.Â
Albeit this was a clear non-verbal middle finger to both your parents and Giselleâs, youâd 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 youâve created from the ground up, was absorbed back to his control.Â
Youâre fighting a battle that you cannot win. Not when youâre cornered and bottlenecked to the point where it feels like youâve got no way out.Â
At least youâre not alone on your side.Â
â
âThe Uchinagaâs are waiting,â 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, âShould I let them know that youâll head over in a minute or two? Sir?âÂ
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. Itâs a little late in the morning, and youâve got yourself knee-deep in paperwork. Whatâs even the point of showing up to the meeting if you havenât been to them for the past couple weeks?Â
âMy bad, Winter,â 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, âI completely forgot that the meeting was today. I owe you for that.âÂ
âYou can save it for after when you get out of your own little pickle,â Winter tuts, sitting back down at her desk right outside the main walkway. âMay I remind you that youâre also the one that got into this mess in the first place?âÂ
âDo you really have to remind me with that question every time these meetings are about to happen?âÂ
âWhat? It's a good starting point in conversation.â Winter answers, looking over along with you to the increase of people pooling through the main entrance past the elevators. âLook at that,â she says, raising her eyebrows when you're doing the double take, âAnd so the hurricane comes crashing in.âÂ
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. Itâs 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 itâs 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: Weâre expecting you to be here. Donât be stupid and make us wait here all day.Â
As much as youâd 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 fatherâs 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 wonât be long behind.Â
âAre you busy?â you ask Winter, surprising her with the sudden question that makes her tense up in her seat, âNormally youâre not busy since youâve done the stuff that Iâve asked you to. So Iâm just gonna assume thatâs a yes.âÂ
âHowâd ya know? What are you, some kind of mind reader?â She laughs, hands up to emphasize the sarcastic propositions, âWho do you think you are, me?âÂ
You shake your head, nicking it to the side to signal your request, âIâm not even gonna answer that. Just walk with me.âÂ
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. âI gotta ask: Are you sure you know what youâre doing?âÂ
âHavenât had an idea in the slightest.â You answer, speeding up your pace by one or two bigger steps in your stride. âRemember that preliminary assessment we had on Giselle? Why donât you run that by meââÂ
Winter clicks her tongue, mind already fast enough to pick up on what you were asking: âGiselle 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. Sheâs 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-âÂ
âYou smartass.â you smirk at the hidden verbal jab thrown at you, walking past the cubicles and heading right up the walkway, âKeep going.âÂ
âSheâs 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.â Winter continues with the mini info exposition dump, matching your stride. âEvery picture or tag that has her face or name plastered and attached is never ignored. Not to mention sheâs-âÂ
âI need to hear what matters, Wint.âÂ
âSheâs also a bit cynical, blowhard, a pretty pick-me girl, uncrowned royalty, someone thatâs 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 doesnât really care.â Winter muses, listing all of the different characteristics with her dainty fingers, âIs that too much, or can I add more?âÂ
You stop at the door of the conference room. Behind it was your parents and Giselleâs, 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 sheâs mentioned about the girl youâre being paired with, âAre you sure thatâs what you assessed, or is what youâre saying about her just out of spite?âÂ
Winter cocks her head, rolls her eyes up to where the eyelids rest at the top, âIf you wanted me to be nicer, why didnât you say so?âÂ
(You know that Giselleâs got some good graces in her heart - but sheâs not perfect, clearly - sheâs on the same boat as you: a little problematic with a thing or two thatâs worth hiding.)Â
âJust wanted to see what was your personal angle about Giselle, thatâs all. Nothing too deep.âÂ
âAmong other things,â Winter breathes, stopping herself with a hand on her hip, âI think sheâs amazing, aside from everything I just said about her,â she concedes soon after, sighing, âMost 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.âÂ
âAre you telling me that thereâs benefits to this?âÂ
âGiselleâs a heartthrob.â Winter puts it simply. âPlay your cards right with this deal, and who knows what might happen.âÂ
Winter then walks away, walking backwards while maintaining eye contact with your widened eyes. Thereâs something in the back of your head that wants to admit some form of defeat, finding comfort that thereâs a possible silver lining in a connection with Giselle. You donât 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.Â
Love. Youâre thinking as your fingers grip the door handle. Thatâs a little bit out of your lineage anyway - but whatâs the worst that could happen?Â
â
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. Youâre getting the proper representation, but still feel like you donât have a say in this.Â
(But like you realized earlier: youâre not the only one, remember? Youâre content that thereâs at least one more person, other than yourself, who can share your hidden levels of pent up frustration - and sheâs sitting right across from you.)Â
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 thereâs this tug-of-war, a dispute over control. Youâve got your own life to seize, and you definitely know that better than anyone else here sitting in this room with you.Â
But the press will love this, Giselleâs 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. Sheâs 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.Â
âIs there a problem here?â Giselle's mother asks, laced with a tinge of annoyance - almost like youâre taking this as a complete joke, for what itâs worth. âIâd like to remind you of the fact that you and our daughter are the sole reason that there hasnât been any motion moved forward with this plan in the first place.âÂ
This is where one of your core flaws come to light: the absolute sense of unbotheredness that you bear in your demeanor. Itâs not that youâre far-removed from things that you have no control over, itâs the notion that when it does get out of your hands, there isnât really any effort coming from you to do something about it.Â
Your gaze returns to Giselle, who looks at you dead in the eyes, slightly pressed and on edge. Sheâs 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 whoâs clearly unimpressed with your present attitude.Â
âNot at all,â you answer, a wave of the hand to double down on the sly smirk spread across your face, âI just hope that weâre not here for long so that I can agree to your terms and sign the damn contract. Is that not what weâre here for?âÂ
Giselleâs father looks over to his wife, the people around the room also exchanging murmurs as to what just occurred. Your parents are also arenât 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, sheâs telling you. Donât make this any harder than it already is for us.Â
But Giselleâs 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, sheâs not the one thatâs getting shoved into the deep end playing a cover up story; sheâs got other things to divert her focus on, no worries filling up her head because she knows the endgame already. Youâve dealt with people like her before - to no avail, putting up with their tangents of how people in a lower step than them canât really see eye to eye with those who are in the upper realms of society.Â
Youâre wondering too, if Giselle is like that - god forbid if thatâs the case, but only time will tell.Â
âAlright,â Giselleâs father says, easing the tension with a cleared throat once the laughs subside. âI donât see why we canât get straight to the point then: Why havenât you signed the marriage license agreement?âÂ
The answer has been pretty simple and straightforward up to this point, and you gave it to them the same way youâve always had: âI still need time to think it through.â
âThink it through?â mocks Giselleâs mother, âWhatâs there for you to think through? Youâll marry our daughter while our family merges into your familyâs business group. While that also takes care of the other âincidentâ, youâll also get our unwavering support going forward.â
No doubt that youâll get the benefits and the support, but if youâre really being honest with yourself: youâre just a simple guy when dancing with the idea of love. Youâd rather tie the knot with someone that you have a genuine connection with that isnât Giselle. It might be selfish for you to think that, but itâs the truth, nonetheless.Â
âItâs not that I have some sort of connection with Giselle,â you say, flipping fast to the end of the page where the blank line is still waiting to be written in ink, âI just think that itâs not fair or right for you to force us into this position; to be married, but not in love.âÂ
âLove? You donât think that you could be in love with my daughter?âÂ
âMrs. Uchinaga, perhaps my words werenât as-âÂ
Giselleâs mother grabs her daughterâs hands, delicate and precious as if sheâs encased in marble. âPlay your words carefully and wisely, young man,â coy smile armed and ready to fire, âIâll have you know that sheâs got more options in the list to choose other than you. I really hope you reconsider.âÂ
âIf I sign this contract, will you be satisfied for us to submit to your archaic idea?âÂ
The question drops out of thin air, with silence filling up the room again. Giselleâs 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. Heâs probably saying, see? I told you guys that heâll 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.Â
âOkay,â you sigh, scanning everyoneâs faces on the opposite end of the conference table. âDo you mind if I get some fresh air while you guys sort out the rest of the deal?âÂ
â
Had it been any other meeting that you attended, youâd power yourself through and stay inside to discuss the final details and clauses, but your parents and Giselleâs parents both agreed that you could stand outside on the balcony while they shackle both of your names down to the legally binding contracts.Â
A âcatharticâ 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 doesnât involve in deteriorating your overall health, but your ears close in on the rough click of the lighter-Â
âDidnât know that you were the smoking type of person.âÂ
That moment right there. Thatâs what gets your attention; right when you least expect it and with your guard down.Â
At the turn of the head, thereâs 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. Itâs like watching a firework pop up from two feet away, blinding you with this sort of simple elegance that compliments her cool, balmy expression.Â
âDo you normally come out here during the day on your breaks?â She asks, approaching closer to you while youâre indulging the rolled up piece of small paper captured between your teeth. âI mean, your parents arenât exactly responsible for you but-â
âItâs already a bad first impression right off the bat. I know,â 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. âThough, whoâs gonna judge what you and I do in our spare time?âÂ
âYou have a fair point,â says Giselle, wrist slacked as she watches the embers at the end glow in a fading orange, âCanât keep troublemakers like us in one place. And I still canât believe that I had to be at this stupid meeting anyway. Like-âÂ
âI mean, what did you think was gonna happen?â you ask, scoffing as you lean the side of your body to the paned glass on the balcony, âIâm curious to hear your side of the story.âÂ
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 hickeyâs blooming on the bridge of her collarbone - itâs 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.Â
The exhale she lets out is exaggerated, then the stream of smoke follows through soon after.Â
âNothing but complete bullshit, if you ask me.â She answers, tapping the ends off the edge while examining, âWhat about you? Since it looks like youâre the one whoâs holding the end of the deal for God knows why.âÂ
Sheâs right in that regard, and youâre not denying it.Â
âAmong other things, I just didnât show up. And neither did you.â The hand behind your head softens the guilt - but not by much.Â
âWhatâs your point?â
âWell, I just had a different vision of it in my head, of how all of this would play out.â
â
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.Â
But thereâs nothing really significant that gets mentioned regarding who will be responsible for what, and the fact that you and her arenât even giving a single fragment of attention to your parents, solidifies that.Â
âThe jobâs simple as it is, isnât it?â Youâre rolling your eyes while asking, âAll we have to do is just pose like a married couple and look pretty?âÂ
Giselle snorts, gratefully falling into the mere folly of the idea. âDidnât think weâd be in this position, but Iâm behind it.âÂ
â
Hereâs the thing about the whole idea, anyway. It never goes according to the original plan.Â
Itâs out of your hands though, and itâs neither yours or Giselleâs fault to put the blame on the aspect of control and logistics:
âMrs. Uchinaga. What can I do for you?â you greet Giselleâs mother at the desk of your secretary, interrupting their super-important gossip session in the opening hours of the usual workday. âI wasnât expecting you to be back so soon, let alone have an opening for you in my schedule-â
âIâm just dropping by, donât worry,â reassures Giselleâs mother, holding the button of her coat when you stop your bearings right in front of her and Winter. âI was just leaving, but not to inform you about your appointment.â
âAppointment? For what, exactly?âÂ
âYour marriage in court.â Giselleâs 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. âI had the date moved up because of some personal reasons, which I hope you donât mind. Giselle was supposed to tell you, but I caught her out late at night, so here I am.âÂ
âBut-âÂ
âIâve left the note with your secretary,â she continues, beginning to depart from the desk. âItâs not a good look for you to be late to your own wedding now, is it?âÂ
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, âDid you know about this? Or did she just-âÂ
âIâm just as shocked as you.â 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, âAm I invited to your ceremony? Hm?âÂ
âI donât need to answer that.â You tell Winter, crumpling up the court order redecorated into an invitation. âJust clear my schedule for lunch. Iâll be having it with Giselle today.â
âHitting it off right from the jump, are we?âÂ
âIâm gonna fire you if you donât shut up.âÂ
â
Youâre hoping that this would be the first and only time youâd ever set a foot inside a courthouse.Â
Luckily, it isnât too busy for anyone to really notice as to why youâre 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, youâll do great, just trust me.Â
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.Â
âDo you have any idea what youâve thrown me into?â You ask your father, watching him get one good look at you before nodding in content.Â
âYou know the story well enough, kid,â 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 - itâs how he made you the way you are, and youâre thankful for that. âI know that you can hold your own, so be proud.âÂ
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.Â
She locks eyes with you, light makeup and everything. Everything thatâs framed on her face just leaks out perfection, itâs 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 isnât so bad after all: realizing how Giselle Uchinaga leaves quite the apprehension on you, all five-five of her to be exact.Â
âYou look good,â 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.Â
âWhy thank you,â says Giselle, hiding the small blush breaking through cheeks as her fingers cling onto yours, voice gentle as youâre smiling along with her too. âI didnât have time to prepare, so-âÂ
âI didnât have time either, so that makes us even.âÂ
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 thatâs done in a wedding ceremony, regardless if itâs 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.Â
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 doesnât cause a hitch at all.Â
And what feels like forever, finally turns to the moment that everyone in the room was waiting for:
âDo you take Giselle Uchinaga to be your lawfully wedded wife?â The officiant asks.Â
âI do.âÂ
Here is where youâre having second thoughts - for just a brief moment, not too long - how Giselleâs eyes know exactly what your worry was in that instant, telling you that itâs okay. Itâll be something that gets talked about after, no doubt a good laugh to come out of it, but if youâre gonna jump down into this sort of new hell, itâs a relief that Giselle is the one to jump down with you.Â
A close of the book: âYou may kiss the bride.â The officiant says, and you do.Â
The angle where you take your mouth into hers is something worth swooning over. A proper lock where youâre tugging Giselleâs 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.Â
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.Â
âHopefully I wasnât a terrible kisser,â you mumble, parting a wisp of hair away from Giselleâs eye. âThat was good, right?âÂ
Giselle blinks again a few more times, watching your finger treat her cheekbone. âA bit of an impromptu, but we can practice that more if you want.âÂ
Youâre not opposed to the proposition already.Â
â
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 wonât 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.Â
Just when you think that the issue of how your personal belongings would be moved over to the new place, your parents and Giselleâs had already taken the liberty of sorting that out for you two. The only thing thatâs 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.Â
âDo you think-â youâre 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, â-you can open a little bit faster? My arm is killing me.âÂ
âShut your whining,â Giselle replies back, getting the passcode right and swinging the door open, welcoming you and her into the relatively new space that youâve only had for five or six days since the court wedding. Life moves a bit fast, but youâll have a laugh to yourself when everything gets settled. âThere, just set the bags down on the counter, Iâll sort them once we take a breather.âÂ
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 itâs 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 youâll get to later once the shoes are off and not on the walnut flooring.Â
âSo,â Giselleâs beginning to say, the paper ruffling on the marble of the counter, âJust so that weâre clear again, weâre-
âLiving in our separate rooms, like you requested.â 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. âWhen we have guests over, weâll use your room as the shared one.âÂ
âCool.â She happily bobs her head, popping a grape between her lips before sucking it in the second after. âAnd itâs not because my room is the bigger one.âÂ
âOf course not,â you say, assessing the open space again before you fish another grape for yourself.Â
âBefore we do our own things,â 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. âMy mom wanted us to have this, for added insurance.âÂ
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 whoâs going to wear them.Â
You pull Giselleâs 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.Â
âLooks cute,â you assess, matching your left hand with Giselleâs, watching the ring shimmer below the overhanging light. âDidnât think your mom would be good with jewelry, but I hold my doubts back.âÂ
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. Itâs almost worth falling for - the domesticity - youâve got your keepsakes and Giselleâs got hers, in spaces big and small where it feels like they belong. Thereâs also that luck of moving things fast (maybe too fast, youâre also realizing, but given the circumstance, itâs 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 - itâll be a bridge to cross once you get to it.Â
âGotta have the appearance before you act the part,â tuts Giselle, letting her left wrist go slack, lightly resting her chin on the top of her hand. âWeâve checked off one box already, but for the other?âÂ
âSo you're saying that we should practice that more?âÂ
âIf youâre willing, then yes.âÂ
Itâs something youâre 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 Giselleâs. 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.Â
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. âHow was that?â she asks, your hands resting to the sides of her thighs, âYou still feel uncomfortable?âÂ
âThatâs not exactly the word I would use,â you remark, but you might be falling apart already.Â
â
Not long after the last meeting with the families - give it about two or three weeks, maybe more - youâre 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.Â
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 youâre seeing and hearing are raving all over you and your new fiancÄ, claiming that thereâs a lot to be expected in how your appearance in the public will change overall going forward.Â
Youâve 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.Â
(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 youâre high up on the pyramid of society-Â
âIf only they knew the truth,â youâre 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 youâre 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.Â
âJust be glad that theyâre loving the news.â Giselle tells you, softly laughing on her end. âBecause that shows proof that the whole idea of us is working.âÂ
Youâre probably wondering how long you can keep this facade up with her as the car continues to roll away.)Â
â
âI have a thing for you,â Winter declares in another way of saying âgood morningâ, looking up with a small scowl to her face as you closely approach her desk, âYour tie is also crooked, so unprofessional.âÂ
âWow, thanks for noticing, Captain Obvious,â you reply, âI was just about to fix it.âÂ
âItâs called an observation, genius,â retorts Winter, twisting her chair left towards you resting your elbows on the desk, âRough night?âÂ
âI guess you could say.âÂ
Winter chuckles, types a few words on the keyboard, hits enter. âDo I really want to know?âÂ
âYou donât.âÂ
âThat I can accept. And oh- by the way, Giselle actually dropped by just ten minutes ago,â she adds on, placing an envelope next to your arm. âI think thatâs the event happening tomorrow night.âÂ
âWhat event?âÂ
âSome party that both her and your parents are putting together. I donât know, Iâm just the messenger here.âÂ
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.)Â
â
âOur carâs already outside the lobby,â Giselle tells you the next day, a simple black gown with an opening to the side where some of her leg sticks out. âAnd I also have your watch if youâre still looking for it.â The bluntness is already enough as it continues to add in her paradigms of sayings.Â
âIâve been ready,â 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 doesnât 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.Â
She hands you back your watch which clicks around your wrist in no time. You raise it up after with your ring in view - itâs Checkovâs 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 Giselleâs when she puts her hand up to match. âLook at us, hm?âÂ
âReady for some madness?â you ask, elbow out for her to hook. âI already want to leave.â
âLeave as in leave our place or leave from the party?âÂ
Giselle gives you this look of genuine concern, causing you to look away with flared nostrils and a smirk painted across your lips.Â
âI was hoping that youâd get the joke,â you sigh looking down, and open the front door on the way out.Â
â
Once the sunset disappears into the horizon and the shroud of nightfall takes its place, youâre 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 sheâs got herself into with people that look like theyâve 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.Â
Anyway,Â
The rundown of the current party for you right now: everythingâs relatively tame with the people that youâve been talking to. Some of which you havenât seen since grad school. You get pats on the shoulder, get a glass raised for your biggest score that youâve ever hit in your life marrying Giselle. While youâve got the feel-pretty-good face while nursing a mojito down, because you deserve it, itâs been a long week as it is.Â
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 everyoneâs got going on across the pad, itâs almost like theyâre a part of the group too.Â
Word gets round the different pods of groups; your name getting bounced around with Giselleâs, but a lean of the ear and a side eye is all you give them. Youâd assume that itâs 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.Â
Itâs something not worth thinking twice the way your feet move at their own volition.Â
A closer look the more you maintain your heading: sheâs 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 sheâs giving this person also puts a dirty look on your face. Sheâs gone way too far.Â
âHey,â you greet, nose buried into her hair before you pull yourself back, giving the guy a quick look then back at Giselle. âEverything okay?âÂ
Giselle nods, âJust conversing. Sorry.â Sheâs 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. âWhat the hell was that for?âÂ
âI think we can take this discussion inside.â you say, and you grab her hand instinctively.Â
â
Aside from the liveliness happening right outside the doors, youâre sheltering yourself away deeper and deeper into the walls of this massive estate. Just down a few steps, into the hallway. You donât 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 didnât even have that much to drink:Â
âWanna tell me what the fuck was your problem back up there?â Giselle asks, backpedaling away until her posterior taps the wall. The overhanging dim light in the hall makes her smaller. âI didnât even do anything wrong, I swear.âÂ
âYou think?âÂ
âNo!â She softly exclaims, letting her shoulders drop while she racks her head about. âI couldnât stand being with those girls earlier when we walked in, talking about all of my-â Her breath gets trapped between her lips, frozen still, as if she completely lost her train of thought right then and there.
âYour problems?âÂ
She winces a bit, as if the word was a rough tear on an old wound. âYes.âÂ
âYou couldâve,â youâre trying to say, stepping closer with a hand to the side of her head, looking up to the staircase where thereâs an influx of laughter at the top steps, âSaid something earlier, to me.â
The next revelation that follows hits you right on the nail, to the top of your head.
âI wanted to come to you.âÂ
Itâs a sinking ship; a capsize happening in full effect.
âSo why didnât you?â
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 youâre worked up over nothing?Â
Deafening silence builds between the space of your bodies. A momentary time to reflect.Â
âI just didnât,â is all she answers with, and her eyes go wide, hand to your tie, fiddling away. âI shouldâve, but-âÂ
âYou didnât.âÂ
It couldâve been anyone else to be with her. It couldâve been someone other than you standing where you are right now. But youâre holding your breath, endlessly wondering why if at all-Â
âIâm glad that you did anyway.âÂ
Everything gets thrown off the table when you have Giselleâs face in your hands, kissing away to your heartâs content. You ask questions later; the only thing that matters now is how youâre 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, sheâs twisting and tensing, returning the pressure and indirectly asking for more, her grip is getting greedy, greedier.Â
Youâve got a hold, and sheâs 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.Â
(This is a litmus test, a dry run, an improv - you donât 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?)Â
But you hold back; not in nervousness, no, though her lidded eyes are in view while your breath weighs heavy. Sheâs not entirely sure what sheâs doing, what sheâs feeling. Youâre also in the same boat as her; a finger to her jaw, her bottom lip, a potential claim waiting to be traced by you. Itâs 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-Â
âWatch yourself,â 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 arenât 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.Â
The shared stumbles you and her take scaffold into this gentle slope, hobbling down the walkway as she figuratively and literally canât 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.
âCome on,â Giselle grits, her breath shaky and stuttery. âDonât keep me waiting. I swear to fucking god. Donât you dare make me wait.âÂ
That ups the ante a bit, kissing as itâs 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.Â
âWhat do you want?â 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. âTell me. Please, Iâll do it. I promise. Anything you want.âÂ
âYou,â she says, biting the sensitive skin of your throat that only makes the grasp of her waist even tighter. âI just want you. Nothing more.âÂ
Giselle pleads, and she begs. Even when her back is against the closed door of one of the guest rooms. Youâre not worried if someone will come looking for you. This shouldnât take long, but it should also last forever.Â
âIâll treat you right,â you tell her, and itâs an act youâll double down on. She knows how good youâve 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 youâre kissing her again, her handâs already quick on the gun, bringing it down to her hiked dress, past lace sheâs 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. âThatâs my job, isnât it?âÂ
You can feel her, yeah. Thereâs no point in denying, if at all.Â
â-sâmore than that, remember?â 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 doesnât 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. âGod, I canât believe-âÂ
You let her have this: the way that sheâs 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. Sheâs 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, youâve 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; sheâs 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 sheâs still asking for more.Â
âShh,â 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. âYouâre doing so good for me, baby. I bet it feels amazing: having you like this.âÂ
She bears no answer to your merciless teasing, and the only thing that youâre 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.Â
âPlease, please, please,â says Giselle. âYou know what I want right now. Donât fucking-âÂ
Youâre 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 youâve 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 itâs something that you need. Her dress gets removed off little by little and-Â
She wasnât wearing a fucking bra underneath that dress. Youâll come back to that later.Â
The jacket goes, then the collared shirt gets unbuttoned. Giselleâs 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; itâs a lifeline, a burning one, youâve got yourself buried deep where breaking her down comes a lot more easier.Â
Her cries get through your ear canals, muttering nonsense even when youâve got your lips on her again to shut her up. Fuck, sheâs telling you, and youâve got half the frame of mind to be with her on that.Â
âHoly s-â you huff, no point in stopping now, âYeah, okay, you-youâre so, fuck.âÂ
And when you do reach the base, sheathe yourself right at the hilt, this could be a culmination long awaited, but itâs 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 Giselleâs breath in these staccatos with the thrusts youâre giving her, her head hits the mirror a bit, and a heel falls onto the floor.Â
âFuck,â she groans again. âSo-so fucking deep, ugh-âÂ
âOh you fucking know it,â 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, itâs exactly what it is.) âRelax baby, I know. Just be good for me, thatâs all you have to do.âÂ
She begs again. A quick please that gets silence with another harsh snap of your hips into her. Youâll take her. Tear her apart until the crimson is visible everywhere on her body. Sheâs 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-Â
Youâre 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 youâre thinking of doing come the next day. Giselleâs 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.Â
âChrist,â 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 youâve built. âSo good, so-so good.âÂ
âWanted me to knock some sense into you huh?â Youâre grinning as Giselleâs eyes roll back, borderline sobbing; the fucking too much to bear that sheâll give you an earful about it once all of this is done. But when her eyes look up itâs an expression thatâll 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. âWas that the problem all along? What other issues do you fucking have as baggage, hm?â
âNot your business right now,â she shrieks a bit when your cock carves a bit deeper into her. âJesus,â 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. âItâs just- your cock, I canât bel- ugh, itâs too- mmm, god.âÂ
When youâve got her past the edge, itâs a beautiful sight to see, watching her orgasm front and center. Itâs in the rolled back eyes, the bright flush of pink spread across her face.Â
âThere we go, Gis,â you say to her as her walls respond to the bodily reflex of your cock twitching inside of her. âGood girl, breathe for me. You naughty little-âÂ
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, âFuck, fuck, fuck you, fuck your mouth, your fucking co- God, I hate how good you are at this, itâs infuri-âÂ
You muffle her with the necktie, and a pinch of her clit while your cock bottoms out in her momentarily sedates the screaming.Â
âToo fucking loud,â you spit, watching her whimper away with the article trapped on top of her mouth: âIs my cock not enough for you to shut up?âÂ
She couldnât give any care for the questions - granted that they are rhetorical. But her pussy is still unbelievably tight around your cock still. Sheâs 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.Â
âPlease, honey. Please keep going,â her voice is close to a sirenâs 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 youâll let her have it. Sheâs gonna feel the soreness come tomorrow morning when youâve 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 youâre pressing down so fucking hard that sheâs gonna need a massage gun to better service her hands when sheâs 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 isnât you-Â
âYouâre mine,â you grit, biting into her skin. You simply canât stop. âYouâre all mine, oh god, baby, just-âÂ
Thereâs 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 youâve got your fingers holding you true; in that dripping mess that keeps on leaking - hooking on one of her folds where sheâs 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.Â
âNo one else,â she says with a bit of a hitch, a winced noise followed by the crinkle across the bridge of her eyebrows, âyouâve always wondered why.â Itâs a spontaneous confession, sheâs too unsure if itâs her talking or the alcohol. âItâs just you.âÂ
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 youâre unsure too about the toss, but itâs worth going with the flow.Â
âDonât do this to me,â youâre telling her, pleading, the sigh leaving your lips is almost pathetic. Youâve 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-Â
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, itâll be too much if you get ahead of yourself-Â
She doesnât seem to bother about your quick desire to stop, saying: âGo,â and, âMove for me.â Fucking hell, this front of her is going to be a nuisance. Her eyes roll back forward with the slimmest smile, slowly, cautiously-Â
âDo you always fuck your girls like this? Or am I just the lucky one who gets to see you this way?âÂ
The grasp to her neck proves to be the sufficient answer you could give her.Â
Let alone the sound of the harsh crack of your hips slamming into the underside of her thighs.Â
âOh god- baby, yes.â Even when her throat is wrapped around your fingers, the noise she makes and the words mold all around your digits. âJust like that.âÂ
Another drag out of her wetness, and the pin drop inside her is a lot more forceful than the last. Youâre pretty sure you could pick up the slight squelch her pussy makes around your cock.Â
âJesus.â Youâre saying, the simplicity alone is enough to not elaborate any further. âGiselle, your cunt, my goodness.â
Giselle nods, plummeting your mind deeper into her madness.Â
It wonât 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 youâve 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.Â
Youâre being pulled in close again, a mandatory kiss where Giselleâs 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 sheâs 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 youâre rebounding her back after every thrust.Â
âYou feel so good.â Thatâs an admission that youâll come back to every given time, slipping inside of Giselleâs pussy so easily. Consuming you. Safe to say that youâve 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 youâre not so entirely sure as to why. âThis fucking- ugh, your pussy is amazing.âÂ
âUh huh.â 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. âYouâre-youâre gonna, youâre gonna make fucking cum.â
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. Itâs in the devilâs 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. Sheâs like a nice bundle of rope: unraveled, tattered, used.Â
âYouâre getting so close,â she assesses, a teasing finger along the firm muscle of your stomach, clutching onto your shirt after. âI can feel you shaking.âÂ
âFuck-âÂ
It comes in a shudder, when youâve finally reached that high apex youâve 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. Sheâs gritting her teeth when you press her leg up a bit too high, the stretch of muscle a little bit too much as sheâs 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.Â
âHoly shit,â she mumbles, humming as her chest heaves in a decreasing pace, coming down, âYou really just- wow, what a fucking mess youâve made. Dirty boy.âÂ
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 âahâ out of her, then she coos; grateful, satisfied.Â
âCanât call me that with all the shit you said just now,â 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, thatâs already a can of worms youâll 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-Â
âMmm,â 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.Â
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 youâve left all over her waist, rub it between your tips like itâs some sort of substance thatâs unfamiliar, tap it against her lips as she opens up her mouth, following along to what youâre doing. She can be like this, which might be a good thing, and youâll treat herself to the reward.Â
Itâs 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.Â
âSwallow,â youâre telling her, mind still trying to process the sight of her licking your load in between your fingers and knuckles. âAll of it, Giselle. Swallow it all.âÂ
She doesnât say anything else after that, just being obedient to what you demanded of her to do.Â
Part of this feels right, but then at the same time it doesnât.Â
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 youâre 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 thatâs too little to be that big of a deal.Â
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.Â
âYouâre a mess,â 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. âHow long have you been wanting to do that to me, mm?âÂ
âThink we could save that for another time?â And you just happily play along to what sheâs inquiring, voice low and inviting. âIâd rather worry about getting out of here first.âÂ
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-Â
âLend me your jacket.â She asks politely, finally standing up with a bit of a wobble in her legs. âIt did get a little bit chilly when we walked on the way in.âÂ
â
You see, nobody bats an eye or raises a brow in suspicion when youâve managed to leave your family estate in record time.Â
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.Â
âShouldâve left a whole lot sooner,â she tells you, a bit of a harsh press on the brakes when you then stop at a t-junction.Â
Sheâs 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. âThatâs what I told you before we walked in earlier.âÂ
To be fair, it isnât 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 couldâve stayed as long as you wouldâve liked, stayed over for the night and just go back to your new home the next morning. Giselle wouldâve been on board with the idea had you told her, but instead she had other things to set in motion.Â
âItâs events like these,â she breathes, âTheyâre always boring. So boring. Itâs been that way with me since I was little.â 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. Doesnât help that her hair falls along with the piece, showing more of her pale, yet marked up neck.Â
âWeâve always crossed paths,â you say, slowly steering the car left and down the road. âI mean- I was literally with you at your birthday party, so of course I can relate to what youâre feeling.âÂ
She looks left, then down at your hand resting on the gear shift, remembering the not-so-distant memory. âYeah, I guess you can.âÂ
âHm?âÂ
âNobody else was appealing, when my parents were searching for someone that could be best suited to be my âhusbandâ. All of the other considerable candidates never really made a case to be a worthy suitor in this absolute shitstorm.âÂ
âDonât you know it?âÂ
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.Â
âSo why me?â you ask, darting your eyes back from Giselle onto the road. âYou couldâve gone with anyone else, but why choose me?âÂ
âIt was a simple decision,â she answers, shifting her body to the side with the seat belt loosening as you move through a few sequences of winding turns. âMost people arenât very easy going when they warm up to me; but since Iâve known you for quite a bit, I thought it would feel just as natural since weâve had that sort of-â
âConnection, huh?â 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 otherâs features, nodding in agreement when nothing else is said.Â
Giselle then moves your hand over to her exposed thigh, letting it rest there as your thumb runs across the plush surface.Â
âI want another,â she says, clasping your hand on her leg, nails slightly digging into the skin of your wrist.Â
You snort in response, almost thrown off at the sudden request. âWhat do you mean, another?âÂ
âYou should know exactly what I mean.âÂ
âIâm not entirely sure Iâm following you on this.âÂ
âDo you want me to put it in a way that makes you understand?â 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.Â
âHow do you suppose thatâll go?â you ask, sliding your hand up into her more. âI can pick up on things pretty fast.â
âPull the car over and Iâll give you the explanation.â
â
(Like you needed the necessary explanation.Â
All it took was a hand to your hardening crotch beneath your pants and before you know it, youâve got the car off to the side of the road, not exactly secluded and discreet about the way that sheâs bent over on the side of the car, hot breath fogging up the metal across the hood as sheâs 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. Thereâs also the occasional presence of some crickets sheltered away in the patches of grass, the slaps of your hips fucking into Giselleâs, turning your head in reflex when you hear an audible snap somewhere in the darkness - probably a fallen branch, or something like that.Â
Itâs a bit hard to keep yourself composed when sheâs cumming all over your cock again.Â
Her body goes limp, a hand is splayed on the headlight. Youâre holding her by the breast, cream-slicked cock slipping inside her once more, ripping her open. She canât 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.Â
â-sâdeep. Fucking- bitch. Oh, darling - ahâÂ
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 itâs some long lost art piece. Like you realized just moments ago: she just canât get enough, and neither can you. âGiselle,â youâre 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 thatâs said after her exaggerated gasps when your cock slows its drag inside her walls, the declining rubs inside her cunt make her body convulse.Â
âYouâre the fucking worst,â you tell her, and she nods with a smirk at the corner of her lip - an admission.Â
âSounds just like me.â she says, all fucked out and gratified.)Â
â
The weekend passes, and the weekday rolls around again to take its place.Â
On most days, itâs 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. Itâs relatively tame for the most part, and Giselle pops in the building every now and then in her familyâs stead, making sure that the transition period in the merging process is going as smoothly as possible.Â
âShe looks like sheâs in good spirits,â 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. âIâm surprised that sheâs doing some work for her parents around here as well. Didnât expect that.âÂ
âKeeping me in check,â 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. âItâs a transactional thing: ensuring that Iâm doing my job just as much as sheâs doing hers.âÂ
âSo, is it clicking between the two of you?â Winter asks, not even facing you.Â
âWhat do you mean?âÂ
âI guess I meant that youâre holding up well after the whole arrangement?â Winter adds on, turning again fully invested, âBeing forced into an arranged marriage. A loveless marriage would be a better term to coin it.âÂ
âWell,â you try to answer, but your train of thought gets lost in your own head. âI feel like itâs 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 weâre willing to make it work, I think.âÂ
âHuh?âÂ
âWe have history, Winter.â The shake of your head makes your secretary laugh a bit, almost baffled at the declaration. âWho knows what happens from here on out. Besides, I might have a change of heart at some point, so have some hope.âÂ
âIf youâre happy, then Iâm happy,â says Winter, tapping your hand resting on the railing of the cubicle. âYouâve got the ring on your finger to prove it, partially, but Iâll always love and support you in whatever you do with her.âÂ
You wave a hand at her as you move away from her desk, a bit annoyed - still smiling.Â
âDo you wanna grab lunch with us whenever she drops by the floor again?â you ask, walking back to the open door of your office. âOffer stands on the table for the time being.âÂ
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.Â
â
Giselle sends you a text two hours later in between breaks: Pick me up?Â
Youâve 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.Â
A smiling emoji. She sends. A bit vague, but you could tell that sheâs ditzy on her end of the phone screen.Â
Almost done?Â
Some last minute submissions.Â
Nice.Â
Dinner somewhere?Â
You ask, you buy.Â
What about after?Â
Iâll pay you back when we get home.Â
(No point in asking how, she knows exactly how to go about that.)Â
â
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.Â
âSorry,â she greets after saying hello, âThereâs been a change of plans. Iâll see you at home. Someone came to see me on my way out of the office and-âÂ
Thereâs 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.
âDarn,â you say, âAnd here I was actually getting excited to come see you.âÂ
âWe can move it to tomorrow, I should probably have you meet-â 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. Sheâs been putting me off, but now sheâs on my time. Hope you donât mind.Â
âWait,â youâre telling her again, confused, âWhoâs your little girlfriend? She sounds cute as well.âÂ
âYouâll see soon,â says Giselle, a bit airy. âA real dazzler, sheâs absolutely perfect, a fucking bitch, but the complete package.â Youâre thinking twice when thereâs an audible smack of a pair of lips on her neck that makes her mewl on the microphone.Â
Youâre rolling your eyes as you nestle in the backseat of the car, and say, âbetter play nice. Iâll see you later,â and then you end the call.Â
â
But you never really figure out this mystery woman is, who poached your wife right outside her office building. At least youâre thankful for the wonderful gentleman on Giselleâs 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. Youâll ask for the debrief sometime in the morning.Â
â
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.Â
Itâs 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.Â
While youâre 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 friendâs fashion line releases in the form of a pop-up event Giselle insisted that youâd tag along just for the testy thrill. To get out of the office and breathe a little bit. Câmon, itâll be fun.Â
Thereâs 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. Itâs 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 donât 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 youâre 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.Â
The feedâs comments are still raving and fawning about this whole pairing, too. And it seems that isnât going away anytime soon; even when the most liked comment says: âi bet they smile at each other when they fuck. God theyâre so hot.âÂ
<âyou think their parents high-five each other whenever they see them together?â>
The list goes on, and one says: <âitâs still unbelievable that theyâre actually together and omg i just canât get over them!â>
Various comments are just filled with exclamation points and lovely emojis.Â
Another person also says a few swipes down: <âdoesnât seem convincing to me. almost as if theyâre just showing for the title/label rather than out of genuine affection.â>
<âyouâre right. also, where tf are their wedding pics?â>
See? Itâs 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 canât be easily swayed by what the media portrays, considering the fact that any shrivel of credibility is either legit or nothing but smoke.Â
Giselle then walks in from the hallway; encased in a linen robe, messy bedhead and with a lazy yawn. âYouâre up early.â
âItâs almost ten.â You tell her. âIâm getting a late start to the morning.âÂ
âBusy day?â 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. âI was supposed to see someone later today.âÂ
âIs it âyour dazzlerâ date from last night?â you address, towering over the top of Giselleâs head when she leans into you to see the assorted breakfast. âLooks to me like you had a little too much fun with her.âÂ
âNot your business,â she replies, stealing a blueberry from your stack of pancakes. Not the ideal response from her - especially since sheâs usually open and practically blunt with sharing bits of her life and adventures. âI saw those comments on that article you were looking at from our outing a while back and let me tell you: theyâre right.âÂ
âYou think?âÂ
âI know.â Her answer alone should serve all the truth as to what things are between you and her. The label of âhusband and wifeâ isnât 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 isnât exactly herâs and you know it, her pensive expression is far ahead of your thought process already.Â
âDo you think this whole marriage is out of convenience?âÂ
She looks at you clearly baffled, eyes wide. âI- well, I was gonna ask you the same thing. What do you think?âÂ
âI think your thoughts are more important than mine at the moment.âÂ
Giselle leans forward with an elbow on the table, chin dipping low and heavy. âThereâs 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, theyâve had the idea of us being set up since we were teenagers. The picture is one big fucking mess to me.âÂ
âWell if you look at the comments, then-âÂ
âWeâve already commensurated on that note, donât you forget.â Giselle smirks, a faint fingertip tracing the inner part of her bottom lip. âA marriage out of convenience could also mean that weâre sex partners out of convenience. Youâre not slick for ogling at me either, but what are you gonna do?âÂ
âIâm gonna head to work,â you say with the shake of your head, âWe can have a chat about this later.âÂ
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.Â
â
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.Â
(She has completely fucked you up.)Â
â
Youâd expect for an easy walk-in past the door once the long dayâs already passed. Nothing too exhausting: a few business calls here, an outing with a client from your fatherâs agenda, and just staying chained to your office chair for a majority of the time isnât very grand, but itâs the usual work flow.Â
But to your surprise, somebodyâs already made themselves at home.Â
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 Giselleâs 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).Â
Entering to your right, you hear: âHey, home already?â 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. âI thought youâd be back later.âÂ
âWell yeah. But I figured that I could use some of the downtime now,â youâre 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, âI donât have anything for the rest of the evening.âÂ
âReally,â she replies, and the prose isnât necessarily a question nor proposition when she says that single word - hands already working to the zipper on the back of her attire. âI was hoping that you did.âÂ
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.Â
âAnd what would you do with your alone time had I not come home at all?â you ask, closing the distance between you and her. âI suppose you wouldâve had another problem on your lap for me to deal with.âÂ
âYou still have to answer my question from this morning.âÂ
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, itâs 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, itâs a tattering case to your own personal code in which you have no complaint or refute to bring up-Â
âSex partners out of convenience?â You say to her as sheâs left breathless under your pressing touch, warm mouth and hands claiming familiar territory. âNow what makes you think thatâs the overall gist of what weâre doing here?âÂ
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 itâs 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: thatâs all that sheâs ever good for.Â
You run a finger through the fabric of her panties: âBaby, youâre soaking wet.âÂ
âNow youâre talking about my kind of discussion.âÂ
â
With that said discussion, thereâs a few laws of honesty drawn up in your head:Â
The first law: itâs the rush of dopamine to blame when you have Giselleâs 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 (whoâs 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.Â
The second law: you wouldnât have to do anything to Giselle and sheâd immediately pick up on what you want, the way her eyes would tell you to âjust come fuck me already, you know you want toâ and the sheer glint beneath her irises sparkle a bit more when youâre teasing the clit as you settle into the seat.Â
âYâknow, I always wondered what your other fuckbuddies would think: if they saw you with me and how Iâm handling you,â 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 Giselleâs juices.Â
âHmm,â 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 youâre not, and clearly thatâs driving her up the wall. Listless words whispered out with little to no meaning. Itâs in the wet blanket of her pussy, the stickiness dragging a torrid heat all over your bare cock.Â
âToo bad they donât have that kind of luxury anymore.â you continue on your senseless rambling. âConsidering that Iâm the lucky one now, which to be honest, is kind of one of the best things I have against you.âÂ
âWhat are you even saying?â 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. âJust 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-âÂ
âI get what they mean, if thatâs what youâre selling,â you assume.Â
She swears.Â
âImagine that, Giselle - with a body like yours, only used to be fucked. Sounds like a pretty damn good deal to me.âÂ
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, sheâd be a goner - thatâs the effect your cock has on her, how sheâd 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.Â
And itâs 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 - theyâre never meant to be taken literally: âdonât you know that you can think of better ways to convince someone about something without putting your body and attitude to the equation?âÂ
Her eyes open carefully, her grin tilts a bit, cheeks blushing, and the voice carrying the lump of air past her mouth gets winded: âwouldnât have the slightest idea, honey.âÂ
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.Â
(It didnât help in the way she presented it too:Â
âWhat would your other team members think?â she probes, the shiniest twinkle in her doe-eyes with the falsest naivety, âHearing 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?âÂ
Blindsided or not, it sends a few synapses in your brain firing.)Â
So youâre 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.Â
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.Â
âOw, ah-â she blurts, a pitiful chuckle following soon after. Maybe itâs 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. Sheâs sensitive, and very fucking responsive. âWow. Jesus.âÂ
Giselleâs 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. Sheâs 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 isnât really begging, per se, but you can just tell: all of the pretty little things that she wants, but canât admit; the quiet please, I swear to God, why donât you just stick it in me- or, the incoherent âmore, baby, I canât wait any longer, donât make me- itâs so good - and you already know, youâve heard it before, how badly she wants it when you let the pads of your fingertips deeper into the spots she loves and likes.Â
âYou would lose it, so fast,â you start, a sigh of relief into the canal of Giselleâs 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.Â
She mutters a âpleaseâ - and it rings so prettily, too.Â
âI really could let you just slide your perfect, sloppy cunt all over my cock. Be good for me. You wouldnât even stop for a second, getting yourself off in an instant.âÂ
Giselleâs eyes squeeze shut, nodding profusely, lips parted.Â
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 headâs lolling. Sheâs 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 itâs a tempting beck and call to her. Â
Itâs a little overdue for dinner and sheâs 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. Sheâs squirming - coming apart and pleasing when sheâs 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 youâve managed to hit a few times before.Â
âJust by thinking about it - itâs making you even more antsy,â you say delicately.Â
Giselle just blinks.Â
âYouâve 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, donât give any care for other people watching you get your pussy railed- stop, I know that look, fuck- itâs not gonna work on me.âÂ
âPretty good idea, right?â Giselle sputters out, panting, because youâre working deeper into that spot, you can tell - you can feel it. Her hands are clawing on your shoulders. âJust lift up my pretty dress or skirt and make a mess of me right there.âÂ
â-be the problematic little bitch that everyone always talks about and has no other sensible thought because you enjoy it as it is.âÂ
Giselleâs cunt tightens around your cock. Youâre also pretty sure that thereâs a hint of her squirting. Quite a bit. Dripping and molten-Â
âYou-âÂ
âMhm?âÂ
âJust- God, please. Want it - you, so fucking bad. Let me ride, I swear-â 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.Â
Thereâs like this sheer sense of inevitability - you can see it in the way her body gives, the imaginary cloth around her body coming down. Itâs in everything, the stimulation, the teasing - then thereâs 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 wouldnât 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.Â
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.Â
And sheâs 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.Â
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. âJâso 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?â 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.Â
âHoney, honey- so thick- like that, holy shit,â her pitch lines up to the tempo of her slaps.Â
âLook at that,â you mumble underneath her praises and heavy pants, the fast, jagged sounds - head nodding and shaking side to side furiously. She canât even think straight to talk properly. âYouâre so fucking wet.âÂ
âGod yes. Fuck yes, sâgood-â Giselle moans, totally unchasted and debauched.Â
âAnd your pussyâs soaking up my cock again.âÂ
âShut the fuck up,â 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 âoâ as your cock drives up against every sensitive part inside her, rubbing against the velvety folds. Digging, taking more.Â
Your voice comes as a hush following a groan. âStretching out so well for me, taking it all in - isnât that wonderful? Your needy little pussy, sliding up and down all over?âÂ
Giselleâs trembling picks up where it left off, the noises curdle from the bottom of her throat, low and just flat out desperate. Itâs in the responsiveness of her body, every single part of her thrust into chaos.Â
You could consider this to be a beneficiary: you being inside her. Giselleâs 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. Sheâs 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.Â
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.Â
âI guess thatâs why you and I clicked so fast,â 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. Itâs without any sense of remorse. You kiss the words right between her tits: âknowing that a special someone could ever make you feel like this, give wonders to you right where itâs needed, as if nothing else matters.âÂ
âStop- shut the fuck up,â 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.Â
âGis-â you yelp on impulse, âholy shit, I-âÂ
The angle is too much for her as she barely manages to keep herself upright, and then, â-fucker, thatâs so deep. Do it again-âÂ
âYouâre something, baby. I canât believe-âÂ
Sheâs 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.Â
âShh,â she coos.Â
âYou-âÂ
âThis right here,â she says, âCould be our little secret. My little secret.âÂ
âGiselle-âÂ
âHush, darling. And keep it that way.âÂ
You grind, lift her up, and smack her back down. Itâs the slap. The fucking moan. Her arms coil around your neck once more.Â
Taking in the makeshift taut of her waist. Growling, âfucking test me again, I dare you,â and Giselle gives nothing but an evil grin in good nature when she cups the side of your jaw to lift your gaze.Â
Her head knocks into yours and she cards her fingers through your hair, tugging away as you increase the pumps a little faster, harder. Sheâs 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 youâve put yourself far ahead than the past guys sheâs fucked around with, the simplicity in her causalness as a royal gesture in itself.Â
âI guess you could say that,â you tell her, in the figures of semantics where you could take her literally.Â
A way to repay that said loyalty to her, would be fucking her tight little pussy until youâre 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 itâs 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.Â
Your cause is a bit different, lest not forget, but youâre complicit nonetheless - satisfying both parties of families to ensure that no one is left holding the bag in the event that theyâre 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. âIâm the last one youâll ever need.âÂ
That cuts both ways, she tells you. A wicked smile is all she gives; sheâs won.Â
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, donât stop, that feels so fucking good for you, doesnât 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 itâs 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. Thatâs how this thing goes.Â
Giselle presses a nail into your hip, another bruise along with the scratches and bite marks thatâll show up tomorrow. Youâll look at it in the mirror at work sometime, just to think back.Â
Though sheâs created an opportunity for herself where you have to answer whenever sheâs around. No matter what the excuse may be, sheâll slither her way inside your office or at home, talk about something about the day, and youâll try to stay on task or topic until the option to eat her out or fuck her till she canât walk straight or maybe even both doesnât seem too far off to pass time.Â
(Sheâll ask: you mind doing a favor for me? Of course you have to say yes.Â
And itâs practically impossible to refuse anyway, since itâs not worth telling no when thereâs advantages.)Â
â
Giselle is not perfect; despite what the media presents and what the people say portraying her to be.Â
Sheâs got a past, one of which she's not proud of. She has her shortcomings, her flaws, but sheâs still human. Youâve assumed at first that thereâs things about her to be accepting even with the stuff sheâs got herself into. Giselleâs impetuous and a bit dense, but sheâs also a strong thorn in points you hate to admit that she could have an upper hand on.Â
But even so-Â
Even so-Â
Despite her imperfections, sheâs aware of them. Sheâs turned them into strengths that very few people can break down without effort backed behind it. You get one good look at her and itâs simple. Her grin with closed lips is wicked and unbeatable, and now that youâre with her in this mess of a marriage you canât find anything thatâs worth swaying you to think otherwise.Â
âWhat is it that you want from your familyâs company?â 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. âI mean, there isnât really an incentive for us exclusively while theyâre trying to make this story go away unnoticed.âÂ
âIf I knew everything. And I mean, everything, then Iâd tell you. But I donât.âÂ
âSo what, you donât know what happens despite us being protected?âÂ
âIt may look like weâre safe,â you say, looking down and out the window again, holding yourself back from rambling even further. âBut itâs only a matter of time until people start sniffing around places that theyâre not supposed to.âÂ
âTheyâre not gonna stop searching, hun.â Giselle presumes, âNot until they really figure out whatâs going on behind the scenes. But whereâs the exposure in that?âÂ
âWhat 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.âÂ
âIsnât that a shame,â 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 sheâs left all over it, the skin still red to the touch. âWatching yourself settle as bits and pieces of your life start to wither away. No risk taken for the reward or consequence to follow. Youâre so boring, but your cock, and the way that you fuck me deflates the whole argument entirely.âÂ
âAmazing,â you deadpan, âThatâs probably one of the nicest compliments youâve ever given to me.âÂ
Giselle rolls her eyes, holds back a laugh between her lips. âYouâre so into me and you donât even want to admit it. Where else would you get the ring on your finger from, hm? Let alone who?â The squint in your eyes proves that sheâs winning this dispute. âStill got no answer for me, babe? Hmph. I guess you just solidified my thoughts just now.âÂ
âYou really are the worst pick for guys like me, arenât you?â you ask, approaching closer to the bed as your kneecaps make contact to the edge, bending them until youâre crawling across the mattress.
She has an outreached hand to you; taking, pulling, inviting. âWho said I was a bad choice for you? Someoneâs got to keep your mind off the deal for the time being.âÂ
Before you even say anything else, you kiss her twice, and then some more. Itâs 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.Â
Some pressure is relieved off of your shoulders and head, and you wonder if sheâs the one responsible for that.Â
â
Everything resumes as normal. Business stays busy, public engagements and appearances are still a regular occurrence every other day or so, and youâre ensuring that the tracks get covered up before anyone in the press starts to take notice. Youâre 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 isnât the healthiest way to go by, but in all fairness, youâre just doing your job.Â
Giselle also holds her end of the bargain; while youâre married to your work, sheâs married to her blessing of wealth. When youâre 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 sheâll always come back to you in the end.Â
âAre you sure you want to go ahead with the meeting?â Winter asks you one afternoon, sitting on the edge of your desk as she looks over one of your clientâs portfolios to see if the numbers add up, âcause this does look finished, but I can set some time aside to run a final check before you send it over.âÂ
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: sheâs aggravated.Â
âSorry Winter, do you mind giving us the room?â she tells her, and itâs 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.
âThe door, please. And you know what to say.â 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.Â
âCancel your meeting.â Giselle commands, fingers quick to the middle of your necktie.Â
âI canât. Itâs the new person my father just brought in yesterday.âÂ
âI wasnât asking. You promised.âÂ
Her lips proved to be a suitable truth-serum to your inhibitions; and suddenly you completely forget what she was even complaining about earlier.Â
â
So you make good on your promise. You had to.Â
Giselleâs hand shoots up to her mouth, not doing much with the moans that leak out from the bottom of her wrist.Â
âBaby,â 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 itâs clear that she canât get enough, and youâll definitely do it again.Â
The pager on your desk starts to beep, and you donât 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.Â
âYou taste so fucking good, honey,â 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 itâs just out of plain fun when you do: âWanna cum so badly on my face, donât you? Soak your shit into my mouth and all over my chin? Tell me what you want. You havenât had enough cock this week, havenât you? Fucking filthy ass slut.âÂ
Giselle, in the current state that sheâs in, just sighs. If thereâs anything that youâve learned from all the times youâve 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.Â
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.Â
âYes, yes- fuck, God yes, just like that,â 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. Giselleâs 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.Â
âClose,â she tells you, breaths becoming irregular as her voice goes up in familiar, ascending octaves. âGod- keep going, yes, baby, Iâm g- Iâm gonna-âÂ
You just hum, let the sweet venom of her release coat your taste buds - a delicacy that youâll 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. âYour cock,â she says, chest heaving. âGive it to me.âÂ
Itâs not worth denying the demand; and besides: you were never going to make it to that meeting anyway.
â
The workflow chokes up the rest of the week so much to the point where the days and nights start to blend together. Youâre 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.Â
âA gift for you,â she says, a towel tending to her damp hair that wets the front of her shirt while youâre 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. âFor the race this upcoming weekend.âÂ
Youâre 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 didnât tell me you were into cars like that. If at all.Â
âHad I told you that I had a stake in a racing team, and you wouldâve been instantly hard,â she deadpans, her stare flickering with a shake of her head. âLike Iâve told you before: I have my own interests.âÂ
âProve it.â you taunt.Â
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 youâre not hard to convince.Â
âF1 passes, huh?â you muse, taking the one from her hand to further examine it, âNow how in the hell did you score these?âÂ
âCourtesy of a friend,â replies Giselle, taking your pass back and into her handbag. âYou probably know her, but if you donât, Iâd love for you to meet her.âÂ
âArenât you excited.âÂ
âWhatâs with that tone?âÂ
âTone?âÂ
She sighs, chin lifted up as her hum rises in amusement, âItâs not like you to have my attitude suddenly, it actually fits you well.âÂ
âIâm always like this,â you tell her.Â
âRight.âÂ
âIâd be happy to pitch you as to why if youâre interested.âÂ
âSave it,â Giselle tsks, flipping her towel forward from her shoulders. âBesides, itâs gonna be a fun weekend either way. And oh- happy birthday.âÂ
â
Much like other events youâve 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 Giselleâs to offer a variety of things to sign: a hat, a bottle, a racing jersey, and some random personâs arm; a nice gesture to show, and itâs all in good fun.Â
The photo opâs 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 howâs the morning going? Who do you think is gonna win the race today? Are you the special person thatâs 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 youâve 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 isnât fair, but it serves you exactly right when her face lights up greeting the provider for your special passes.Â
She smiles so effortlessly. Her energy is infectious the more she steps into the paddock.Â
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 arenât on and theyâre 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.Â
It wasnât 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.Â
âIâm sure youâve seen this charmer before,â Giselle introduces, hand tugging on your jacket so casually, pulling you closer. âHas a thing for cars, if that isnât news to you already.âÂ
âLooks familiar, but never up close.â 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. Sheâs got a racing shirt on, despite her bottoms being baggy jeans. The temperature around the track was forecasted to be hot, and sheâs 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 theyâve got so much money deep in their pockets to afford everything and all that jazz.Â
Yu Jimin takes your hand in hers, and asks something along the lines of: youâre into cars? Is this your first time in an F1 garage?
You laugh, and answer: Iâve dabbled here and there. Giselle didnât tell me that she had a minority stake in something like this.
âSheâs the one who gifted the passes,â Giselle supplies immediately, because apparently Karina should already have this as common knowledge.Â
âNever got to hear you two say thanks.â She blinks and smiles. You blank out for a second. Though itâs also interesting how her face is so molded in the right angles like sheâd been carved to perfection in one take. Her figure is undoubtedly amazing, with a long waist and these wide hips. Itâs a bit of seeing to actual believing - where you think that all women like Giselle had similar traits. Youâre still unsure, however, but maybe thatâs just the simple commonality women have when theyâve either got money or a status.Â
âYour wife here funds the teamâs success,â Karina adds - looking over to see a handful of mechanics having a laugh about something with her racing teammate. âSheâs the reason why Iâm winning.âÂ
âThat so?â You fire back with pursed lips. âHopefully her moneyâs put in good use.âÂ
Karina laughs. âIt has, believe me.âÂ
Giselle, in this situation at least, the last person who takes charge of calling your shots. Or reading the room. Youâre just keeping it casual, though, getting acquainted with someone new like itâs nothing wrong.Â
âHow else could we have swayed you into signing that new deal?â Giselle presses her tongue up to the inside of her cheek - throws a side-eye at you. Sheâs reminiscing over a certain reference that you clearly have no idea of understanding.Â
âDidnât think the figures would be that much,â ponders Karina.Â
âNeed I mention youâre little âincidentâ with the other-âÂ
âAre you fucking crazy? I almost got crucified with the press if that story got out.â She leans closer to Giselle with her fingers covering her mouth. Her hair moves in these calm waves - laughing like thereâs no care in the world for her actions.Â
So the two of them go at it a bit, trading moments and memories between them. Giselleâs 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. Â
Aside from the ice breaking topics, you look over to see Karinaâs personal performance coach, notifying her of the preparations of the race ahead. She hasnât got much time, so she leaves the both of you off with this:Â
âThink I can find you guys once this race is finished?â 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: âI can have my guy grab you two back to the trailer.âÂ
âYou can make that work,â Giselle answers, rolling her head into the upper profile of your chest and smiling. âWeâre your special guests for the day, so I expect the best hospitality.âÂ
â
And, about the race later as youâre watching, Karina blows everyone else out of the competition. Her winning first place is an absolute certainty.Â
â
Once the champagne showers have died down and everything logistically in the press gets recorded and logged in after another successful race weekend, it didnât 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.Â
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 didnât 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.Â
âYou love her mouth so much, hm?â Karina asks, the brim of her cap hitting your nose, tilting it upward to slide her tongue back between your lips. âSheâs been telling me how much her jaw aches when it comes to blowing you.âÂ
You try to look down, but Karina had other ideas. Ah ah ah, pretty boy. Keep your eyes only on me. If Karinaâs lips were meant to spill out all of these subtle projections of sex, youâre 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 youâre losing focus, and then-Â
âKarina, your hat,â you stumble in your words, watch her flip the cap back around, âShit, baby. The door too-â
âShhh, relax,â she coos, hand ghosting over your face, the broad line of your shoulders. She kisses you with the cap facing backward. âBet that feels really good for you, doesnât it?âÂ
âFuck,â you barely manage. Itâs a bit early for your voice to be this raked through the mud; though, the light depression of your lungs serves as an emphasis. âSheâs perfect.âÂ
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. âThat isnât news for anyone,â she yields, sliding her palm up the length. âTake my other boy-toys in the past. Ask them about anything, really. Theyâd all say the same thing: how I keep a hidden talent for sucking dick a personal secret of mine.â Karina provides a nod and a laugh, knowing that her saying goes both ways.Â
âConsider me shocked, then. You two are absolute freaks.âÂ
âOkay,â Karina deadpans, and her expression goes calm, a lifted eyebrow in suspicion. She gets her hand to the back of Giselleâs 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.Â
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.Â
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 sheâs telling you all the right praises of how amazing you two look. Sheâs got a handful of Giselleâs hair in her hand, pulling her up and driving her back in, the subtle sighs and staggered breaths that gets overpowered by Giselleâs 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.Â
âFuck her mouth again. I know you want to,â 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 âchristâ from you. âSheâll let you do anything,â and in a way, she isnât wrong: ââCause I know that youâll give her the promise of fucking her brains out after.âÂ
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 youâll 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 Karinaâs security detail, or someone else, thereâs 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.Â
âWe shouldâve left thirty minutes ago,â you confess - the honesty alone an antithesis to your level-headedness; a moment to reflect, at how pathetic you are - âhow long are-âÂ
Karina giggles, a cheeky grin to add: âwe gonna take? Hopefully weâll wrap you up soon, sweetie.âÂ
Youâre hoping to unravel in the next few minutes or so. Giselleâs 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.Â
Karina on the other hand, does the least merciful act she could possibly do, considering how sheâs a walking devil in broad daylight: sliding her hands across your chest as she sinks down to her knees at Giselleâs level, nose buried in the cuff of her ear as she grasps her boob while the motion of her head starts to match with Giselleâs 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.Â
As if theyâd 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 theyâre not touched. âMmm.â and âHmph.â 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 youâre 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 itâs yours.
And when she does pull herself up and out, sheâs 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.Â
âYou girls look so good like that,â you barely manage to say. Their swollen and plump mouths already serve as this new vehicle of addiction. âThe sluttiest kinds are always the ones where you least expect it.âÂ
Giselle breathes out this hearty laugh, shields her face with the back of her hand. Karinaâs mouth then takes over for a bit, and you could feel her fingers start to press deeper into the skin of your thighs. âSheâs a messy bitch. Believe me when I say this: sheâs been dying to have a taste of you.âÂ
âNot true,â Karina butts in, a trail of spit forming from her bottom lip when she kisses your soaked tip. âAt least, thatâs 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 - sheâs the one whoâs more dirty than me.âÂ
âDidnât you make a bet that you can make him cum faster than me?â Giselle inquires, doe eyes and with a hint of a taunt mixed in with her tone. âI couldâve sworn that you did.âÂ
While she asks, Karina doubles down her efforts, taking you well into the column of her throat. Youâve 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 canât let them have their way for too long, and itâs way too early to yield from their oral assault.Â
âHeâll be good for us, Iâm sure.â 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. âIâm sure this isnât his first rodeo of letting two girls drop to their knees and have a little bit of fun for themselves, right?âÂ
Yeah, the groan you give punctuates the point clearly: they broke you.Â
It didnât 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-Â
âCum for us, baby,â 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, âall over our pretty little faces, okay? All over. Just let go and let us taste you, thatâs all we want.âÂ
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 Karinaâs 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; youâre not even sure how youâre still standing at this point-
âFucking look at that,â Karina sneers, fingers pressing into the skin of Giselleâs cheek - the other digging down her unbuttoned pants, assessing the damage as she kisses up along the side of her face, âSheâs 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-âÂ
âMmmm- fuck,â Giselle just says, sucking harshly on your sensitive cockhead, retreating with a loud âpopâ 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.Â
âYou guys are the worst,â you breathe, head hitting the door to the closet as youâre fighting every urge to not melt right into the floor.Â
âHe doesnât mean that, right?â Karina asks, eyes pleading.Â
âDonât worry,â Giselle adds, âHe owes us more when we get back home.âÂ
âShould we get out of here?â Karina prompts, wiggling her head back as Giselle matches the look from below. âOh- and Giselle honey, you canât clean yourself up.âÂ
âWhat?! That was the deal? Why the hell didnât you tell me?â Giselle asks in shock.
âIt was better to see your reaction if you didnât know; but now that you know, the forfeit still stands.âÂ
These two are basically asking to get themselves trending on the headlines first thing tomorrow morning.Â
â
Itâll probably be ignored as youâre doing the daily checks of your meetings, reminders, or emails on your phone, but thereâs 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 isnât 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, youâre 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.
âIâve got the-â you say on your way into the bedroom when a pair of lacy panties latches onto your shoulder, looking up in confusion. â-coffee you asked for.âÂ
Giselleâs 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. Youâve had your fair share of having a few triadâs in your lifetime, but itâs safe to say that this current lineup takes the cake.Â
âHeâs cheating by the way,â Karina says, sitting upright as her breasts are revealed to you above the sheets; all marked up and tattered from last nightâs fuckfest that move in this heavy and hypnotic way as she does this little wiggle with her upper body - like sheâs pouting for an apology after committing a scandalous act. âWhy does he get to put his underwear on?âÂ
âIâm not walking around the house naked,â you rebuke, âItâs just weird.âÂ
âBut I do it all the time and he doesnât complain,â Giselle says to her, flashing a look back at you as she watches you take a sip from her cup of coffee. âBreakfast still on the cards?âÂ
âWhat do you have in mind?â you ask, walking up to the two fine girls taking refuge in your bed. âI can go out of my way and set an arrangement.âÂ
Karina scoots up next to Giselle, laying in the same fashion as sheâs 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 itâs always better to chow down on something while she drinks; her personal preference, really.Â
âI think your coffee needs a little creamer, no?â Karina proposes, testing with a swift lick on the underside of your cock, snorting soon after.Â
âYouâre really fucking weird,â Giselle tells her, and pulls the waistband down, springing your cock forward. âBut I fucking love itâÂ
â
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.Â
Now:Â
Thereâs 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. Sheâs gone from her bed to yours, her toothbrush in the same cup on the bathroom sink, thereâs 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.Â
âYouâre staying in tonight?â 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. âI thought you had something planned.âÂ
âI did,â 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.Â
You sigh, tilt your head over to the right side, and kiss the crown of her head. âGuess I should call it also a night, then.âÂ
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.Â
â
Later that morning after, she plays the part so well:Â
âFor me?â she asks, arms well wrapped around your waist as youâre 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. âYou might be the best husband ever, I fear.âÂ
Your nose scrunches as she giggles, leaning your head down with a chaste kiss to her lips - pulling away with a hum, âSweetie, Iâd be terrified.âÂ
â
âYour fatherâs calling,â Winter tells you while hanging her head along the door frame of your office, âHeâs on line one.âÂ
The lift of your eyebrows signifies that you got the message, and he doesnât sound pleased when you pick up the phone saying: look, Iâm 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. Iâve got some figures in our board and investors that are catching wind of our past case. People like them arenât easily swayed by the media, theyâre smarter than that.Â
You knew what you were doing when you first made the company, dad.
And I know that youâre aware of Giselleâs 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.)Â
Whatâs your point?
Donât bullshit me with filling the blanks and details. You know. Iâve pitched you to her parents for a reason. You didnât like the idea of sleeping with someone you arenât familiar with; but now look at you, doing exactly that.Â
Creative writing can only serve so much purpose to the public.Â
All the more reason to use some money to twist a few words about you and that whore.Â
Dad-Â
Do the right thing, son. Weâve got you in a good position, now take advantage of it.Â
â
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, youâve got a good track record of not getting into trouble whatsoever. Youâre clean - and sure, thereâs a few hiccups here and there, but nothing too monumental to really derail your career and success.Â
All of this has been public from the start, you and Giselle. Ever since you two tied the knot, itâs 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. Itâs in the recognition, the exposure. Youâd 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 whatâs going on in the inner circle a secret.Â
Too bad that secret isnât nicely kept under wraps, and youâre aware of this; you understand so much of the extent because thereâs everything to lose since the microscope is so close. Even when youâve parted Giselleâs legs and slid your hands up the sides of her waist, itâs the beauty in that risk - like the suggestion was already guaranteed from the start.Â
âWhatâd I tell you?â 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,) âThey gave us a hand to play.âÂ
âAnd you want us to play their game? Itâs basically letting them call the shots if you ask me.âÂ
âHey,â she leans back to the head of the couch, lounges her legs a bit further out, âThatâs my line.âÂ
You scowl at her as she looks down with a subtle lip bite.Â
â
So thereâs two incidents that follow:Â
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 sheâs itching for the filthy feeling at your hips. Doesnât help the fact that other guys were coming in the restroom at a regular pace, not paying any sort of attention to the indecency theyâre witnessing. They all look at you for a second, identify your face, and shake their head soon after.Â
âYou two really couldnât help each other to get a room, huh?â Someone asks, but you donât bother answering other than a nod. He then turns his head to face the wall as heâs relieving himself with the urinal.Â
â
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 workerâs eyes fall between one of you three, and when youâre settling around Winterâs desk:Â
âDid you and Giselle just-âÂ
âWinter,â you sigh, fixing the knot of your tie. âJust donât.âÂ
â
But thereâs also the third time, where she calls you out of the blue when your fatherâs in the office for the day, debating: âEmerald green or Scarlet rose?âÂ
Naively, you answer: âJust say green, sweetie.â 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.Â
The vibrations of your phone thirty minutes into the meeting throws the overpassing voice into white noise as you get a closer look.Â
Green. Green. Green. Itâs all you see. Sheâs wearing a lingerie set, thereâs 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 thereâs nothing in the fucking middle-Â
âYou like?â She texts, but she adds on, âYou come home in forty-five and you can take it off with your hands, any later than that and youâre doing it with your teeth.âÂ
â
âYou should take a break.â Giselle calls out to you one night, watching as youâre settled into your personal study, reading multiple screens of different reports about you and her. âItâs late anyway.âÂ
You look up from your glasses, notice as Giselleâs standing on the doorframe, swirling a wine glass in her hand. And the thin layer of lace isnât doing her any justice covering her figure. Sheâs got nothing underneath.Â
âWho are you to stop me?â 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 youâll twist and bend her fragile body, rip the robe off of her shoulders as sheâs light on her tiptoes. Thereâs 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. âBesides, I just felt like reading the assurance that weâre doing our job.âÂ
She keeps swirling the wine, downs the last bits of it. The glass gets thrown somewhere across the room, and hits a random bookcase. Thereâs shards everywhere. Being mad at her right now is one thing, but youâre 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.Â
âAre you drunk?â you ask her again, the fingers resting along your thigh starting to curl up in a short flare of anger. âWeâve only had that glass set for a week.âÂ
âThat should be the least of your problems.â Giselle refutes, shifting herself across the smooth woodwork. Until sheâs 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 sheâs properly straddled, tilting herself down as the press of her lips start to fall across your neck. âWhyâd you think I came to you in the first place?âÂ
âYou told me that you were going to bed early.âÂ
âI was,â 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 youâve got your hands and lips full of her, and decide to plunge into that need sheâs got you tethered to.Â
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. Youâre still sitting there, breathless, gaze almost in this form of wonder as she admires from the high ground. âWhat changed your mind?âÂ
âThatâs for you to figure out.âÂ
âDoesnât really help my case in any way, if at all.â you concede, and Giselle starts to laugh a bit, knocking her head against yours which earns a soft âowâ from your lips. âOkay, what is it that you want?âÂ
âA lot of things, actually.âÂ
âLike what?âÂ
âIâm not telling you.âÂ
âIâve got a few ideas so far,â 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. Youâre on the right path. âMaybe my hands are thinking ahead of the curve here?âÂ
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. âYouâre brilliant when youâre speechless.âÂ
She nods through it, knowing the whole truth.Â
âWant you-â she attempts to say, the breathiness of her words leaving her lips coming off as an uncertainty, âwant you to tell me-â youâve got her so close where the cornerstone of your hips holds her down, the inside of her thighs pressing on the outside of yours. Thereâs a clear wire being cut, the curtain raiser, the green light clicking in her head. Sheâs whittled down so fast and youâve barely laid a finger on her sensitive parts. âWhat should I do?âÂ
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. Youâre 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.Â
âNeed a little help there?â You prompt, hand shifting over to where hers is between her legs, pushing her fingers along the glide of her leaking folds. Giselleâs breath is seeping out of the gritty cage of her teeth, driving herself insane with the way that youâre teasing her by her own hand. âItâs pretty how wet you are for me, I like that.âÂ
Giselleâs eyes are hooded, the light in her irises fading as if thereâs another entity taking control of her. âWant you to grab me. Fuck me. Make me yours.âÂ
(She always wants a challenge, and youâre not getting it twisted here. But hey, when the opportunity persists-)Â
Itâs 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 thereâs nobody else in this home besides you too. âWhen you put it like that, it already looks like that Iâve won.âÂ
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.Â
Your hands are fast on the buckle, sheâs 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, âfuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-âÂ
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.Â
â-ere we go. Look at you, all dicked out of enjoyment, huh?â 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. âCouldnât have a proper good nightâs sleep until I fucked you properly-âÂ
âHate it. I hate how hot you sound when you talk to me like that.âÂ
You snap your hips, and the rebound of her tits wiggle across her chest.Â
âYouâre gonna cum so fast. I can feel it,â you tell her, pushing yourself deeper into her cunt with these practiced strokes. âFill you up so well that youâll 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-âÂ
âPlease-âÂ
âHmm?â you coax, dragging yourself out and meticulously sliding back in, throwing her off of the typical rhythm that you always give her. âUse your words, honey. I didnât quite hear you there.âÂ
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 youâre 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.Â
â-take-âÂ
She looks amazing. She feels amazing.Â
âCome take whatâs yours,â she orders, huffing. The glint in her eyes makes the whole command an absolute guarantee; because she knows, and sheâs programmed you long enough for you to cement that resolve in your head.Â
So itâs just like this: youâll give it to her. Hard.Â
Because youâve learned early on how easy it is to fuck Giselle like this - picking up on her little habits and through countless times before - youâve got her wrapped so well around your cock, and sheâs got you well wrapped around her finger. Itâs 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 sheâs constantly leaking all over your cock with every passing second.Â
âGod,â she giggles, and thereâs the little slip-up of a sob falling soon after. Itâs 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, âfuck.âÂ
âA little speechless, are ya?â You ask. The pressure closing in, enveloping. Itâs in the length, your weight, the stretch, finally settling your fill. Youâll siphon the air right out of her lungs, leave her with the rest.Â
Her head falls slack: the beginning of her downfall; or yours, itâs all the same.Â
âMhm.âÂ
âLike this?â you ask again, arm teetering to her side, hand to the back of her neck. âA little more of what you can take?âÂ
âSâgood-âÂ
âAgain, baby.âÂ
âYouâre sâgood, I love riling you up like this, irritating you to the point where you just have to fuck me. Please, ugh- keep going, god-â 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. Youâll worry about damage control later, all the while youâre using Giselleâs sopping cunt.Â
âSee what happens when a pretty girl like you has nothing but issues? They donât know how to handle themselves unless someone tells or shows them the right way,â you pant, grinding yourself down to the hilt, and you give her the generosity of gyrating her hips for her in circles.Â
Giselle closes her eyes, breathes in, and realizes.Â
Youâre 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 isnât moving her head much now, she looks up to the ceiling for something to keep her gaze on, but to no avail. Her hands donât really know where theyâre going at this point as it goes to your arms, then the desk, then wherever she could grab for a proper hold. Sheâs helpless; blowing her pussy out to smithereens where all of the obscene phrases and noises sheâs 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.Â
Youâve got no right to be gentle with her. Not anymore.Â
Not when sheâs inviting you in the way that she is. Sheâs glistening in sweat, smothering your cock in her cream, the slickness making the simple push in and pull out motion all the easier. Youâve 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-Â
âItâs okay, itâs okay,â you whisper, snapping your hips forward with the little bend of your lower back. âIâll let you have me. I know how bad you need it. God, baby. Youâre beautiful. Whining nothing but nonsense just to get me to use this body. This pussy, fuck-âÂ
âUh huh,â she says, since the single utterances and mantras of âyeahâsâ can only say so much. Sheâs fogged up your mind, but also clears it in a sense. You have to fuck her. Youâve got to. âDonât-â she sputters again, but the message was already registered in your head, voice cracking, âDonât-â
Her hands slide up to the sides of your ribs, some part of hips arenât even touching the desk anymore, and the angle where your cock carves itâs pathway into a deeper spot that she couldnât even imagine you hitting - she fucking wails.Â
You donât say anything. Hell, you canât even afford to say anything. Giselle is so fucking shameless, itâs 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, itâs no different. The symphonic tone of her voice rising up in these octaves as the pace gets faster, erratic.Â
âLike that. Please, just like that- like that, like that, like that, oh fuck!â Sheâs 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, sheâll seal the deal in any way that you like. Youâve ruined her. Sheâs 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 isnât any different now.Â
âBaby, youâre amazing,â you praise, and the heat of your forehead meets hers. And you swear thereâs a sudden shock happening between when you rock your cock down into her cunt at the same time during the contact.Â
Her brows collapse above her closed eyelids, and her stomach is so sucked in where you could see the bottom of her ribcage. Youâve 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. âGonna cum all over your fucking cock,â she mutters, lip wobbling, âKeep going, I swear to-âÂ
Thereâs no reproach. Itâs 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.Â
âSo much. Itâs so much. God, itâs so fucking much.âÂ
Yeah. You know.Â
Giselleâs gravity has you so low, where youâve 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 canât stop babbling the nonsense; so you just keep- you keep fucking into her. Until you finally stay as the pace fades.Â
When the thrums of your beating heart start to subside.Â
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.Â
She keeps on whimpering, even when youâre running your fingertips and lips over the valley of her figure. Her chest carries on with the rise and fall as youâre 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.Â
âUmngh,â she finally says, worn-out and pliant.Â
âTired?âÂ
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.Â
You kiss her forehead, and tell her, âalright, Iâll carry you to bed.âÂ
â
âMaybe if,â sheâs 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, âWe 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.âÂ
You shift a bit in your crater of the mattress, the low hum rumbling in pensiveness, âFor once, I actually think we agree on something.âÂ
Giselle moves up to leave a kiss to your chin, nestles her head back into the dip of your collarbone. âYou just get me. Itâs one of the few things I love about you.â She doesnât say anything after that, drifting away into her eventual slumber.Â
(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. Youâre 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.Â
Youâve always believed that things happen for a reason. And even as youâre aware of all the details and facts, you canât help but feel left in the dark despite knowing that thereâs 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.Â
If Giselle was willing to start it, then you would be willing to also.)Â
â
To describe the current state of this whole situation with a single word, youâd draw it up to be content; comfortable felt too safe, and with that said notion of security itâs right there in the meaning, but falling short just a bit.Â
Chatter surrounding the family mergers does die down for a bit, and the media cycleâs attention goes towards other things. In laymanâs terms: itâs a nice refreshing breath of fresh air. Youâve 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 canât scan nor decode from the stills and written reports alone, at least for now.Â
Giselleâs 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.Â
âYouâve got anything on your agenda still?â Giselle asks, rubbing over the touched-up polish on her nails, waiting for an answer.Â
âJust stepping out to get a drink for Winter,â you say, walking over to her with a hand in your pocket, the same head tilt you always give her to keep you grounded, âsince I owe her.âÂ
âLong?âÂ
You shake your head, take her hand in yours and place a kiss to the three knuckles of her fingers, âNo, itâs a quick run to the place right at the corner.âÂ
Giselle nods soon after, âOkay, Iâll be here. I just have to make a quick phone call to someone.âÂ
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 âWhat?â and youâre smirking like a carefree idiot, mouthing the old expressive phrase that sounds too clichĂŠ to even say aloud, but she tips her head down, sighing out an airy laugh to let you know she got the message.Â
âYou idiot, I know. Now go.âÂ
No bother in refusing, because that wavelength was already established from the start, and you move forward.
â
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 howâs and whyâs, and some are rather more piqued at the aftermath than the cause.Â
(The cause itself is harmless at first, until the twist of time and circumstance finds some sinister way to turn it against you.)Â
Youâre 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 youâre putting in the typical order of Winterâs 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 couldâve picked something more simpler, but it helps her get the job done.Â
The thing is, you never actually make it to the car in the first place. Rather, youâre 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. Sheâs 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.Â
Hereâs where the disarm happens, and itâs so easy to fall into - because whether sheâs five feet close or two hundred feet away, sheâs got you right where she wants. âFunny. I was starting to think that your phone was broken.âÂ
You look dead set at her face, confused. The voice alone pulls you in like a flood. No. No, thereâs possibly no fucking way-Â
So you test: âYiz?" You're pretty sure entirely, it's her. "Oh god, donât tell me.âÂ
Yizuho laughs softly, pulling her sunglasses away from her face, and the hair flip she does is subtle, but one where sheâs done countless times, and every instance has the same effect on you. Itâs 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, âYou know how much I hate that name. Jesus, youâre the worst.âÂ
Youâre not helping yourself, leaning a bit to the right with a hand in your pocket, lowering your guard. âSorry. Itâs a bad habit of mine, you know this. Ningning.âÂ
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, âYou got a minute to talk?âÂ
âNot really. Iâm on a schedule here.âÂ
Getting sidetracked wasnât in the cards for today, and youâre doing a decent job of neutralizing the conversation when youâre about to walk away. Only to be sucked in by Ningningâs voice again, a poor move on your behalf. âThatâs the thing. Itâs urgent.âÂ
âThink we can arrange something for later this week?âÂ
âI was hoping that you can talk now.âÂ
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, youâre handcuffed; and the only thing that your mind at that second was: shit, this is not good.Â
âNing, what the fuck-âÂ
âRetribution, sweetie,â she sneers, âIt looks perfect on you.â
And itâs 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 youâve done in your life up to this point. But thatâs not the worst part, people take notice of the commotion, and start to close in on you four. Theyâve got their phones out, recording, taking pictures; documenting the whole thing.Â
Ningningâs got her phone to her ear, most likely confirming with the person on the other end that the dealâs been done, and her screen is faced towards you as soon as she ends the call.Â
Make no fucking mistake, youâll 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 âGâ.Â
#giselle smut#aespa smut#kpop fanfic#kpop smut#male reader smut#giselle x male reader#aespa x male reader
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Android Tim Drake AU:
Drake Industries announced they had successfully created realistic-looking androids that passed the Turing Test (and harder versions of it). They were planning to release commercial models to the public within twenty years.
To go a step farther, the Drakes wanted to ensure no one was skeptical of the androids' abilities to pass as human. Thus, Janet and Jack Drake had a healthy "human" baby by the name of Timothy Jackson Drake. The only individuals aware of this are Tim, Janet, Jack, and a small handful of engineers bound with a fuck ton of NDAs. They planned to tell the public when Tim was eighteen.
While Janet and Jack Drake are aware of Tim's ability to mimic emotions, they do not believe him to be capable of actually feeling them. This leads to Tim's childhood being lonely and neglectful. He is a robot.
At first, Tim is incapable of consuming human foods or using his touch sense. They fix his touch sense by the time he is four (and thus Dick is his first hug), and the food by the time he is six. He is constantly undergoing repairs to allow him to mimic the growth pattern of a child. It's when he is nine that he finally gets pain sensors to discourage and alert him to damage.
Tim is, for all intents and purposes, legally a human. When Janet dies and Jack gets into a coma, Tim stops receiving "growth spurts." He remains the same size even after Jack wakes up from his coma.
When Tim becomes Robin, he does not disclose his status with Bruce, Dick, or anyone else. Given that his parents treat him like an object, a machine, and incapable of feelings, Tim doesn't want to be subjected to that by his heroes either.
Instead, he gaslights the hell out of the Bats, villains, and other heroes whenever he gets hit.
["Tim! You got flung into a building. You are getting a medical exam."
Tim narrows his eyes as his eyebrows raise in surprise. "Bruce.... what are you talking about?"
"I saw you get thrown into a building. You're not getting out of this."
Tim glances to the side and then back to his mentor. He carefully places a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "B... Maybe we should have Alfred check you over."
Bruce blinks in shock as his brows furrow. "What?"
Tim purses his lips and shakes his head in pity. "It's okay, B. We'll figure it out. Whatever is going on, we'll fix it."
Bruce is so confused and concerned he doesn't ask Tim to get a medical check and agrees to be checked over instead.]
Tim becomes an expert at repairing himself because he can't explain to the engineers (most of who were let go after Janet died) how he got damaged. He spends a lot of nights alone in his room turning off his pain sensors (which isn't an automatic process and is difficult to reach)in order to fix the mangled hand, the gaping gash, the crooked foot, etc.
Kon, and conversely YJ, are the first to find out about his status (darn x-ray vision and super hearing). This encourages Tim to create artificial sounds within himself to fool Superman when they first meet. This also forces Tim to wear a long-sleeved uniform and a hood to hide from x-ray vision.
Tim finds comradery with Red Tornado.
When Jack wakes up from his coma, he originally treats Tim as he did before: an object. Dana, though, changes this. Jack can't explain why he treats his "son" that way and slowly morphs into becoming a good father.
It starts as only occurring when Dana is in the room and ends with a very bitter and antagonistic Jack when she leaves. He is initially disturbed by how much Tim is "faking" emotions, particularly because Tim learned to conceal his emotions from his parents as a coping mechanism (not that Jack knows this).
As they start spending more and more time together, Jack begins accepting the idea that Tim is capable of emotions. He starts caring and loving the kid as his own.
Because of this, Jack becomes fearful for Tim. When he learns that Tim is Robin, he is both jealous of Bruce's relationship with Tim and absolutely terrified for his son (what happens if people find out that Tim is an android? How would they treat him? Tim told Jack the Waynes don't know about his status. What if Tim gets injured too badly during a mission and they find out?)
This is why Jack initially forbids Tim from being Robin. There is way too much at stake for Tim if he continues (even though, theoretically, Tim can't die. Jack can keep saves of Tim and import him into a new body if necessary. They both don't want to do this, however, because Tim's body is his. It would feel weird and wrong to put him in another one).
While Tim is prohibited from being Robin, Jack bankrupts his company in the process of getting Tim rights. He bribes the hell out of judges, law makers, etc. to subtly put I'm rights for androids. He wants Tim to have full access to his inheritance, to freedom, and to everything humans can do. He doesn't want Tim to be without it.
Tim doesn't understand why Drake Industries is going under and is pissed at Jack for preventing him from being Robin. Robin is everything to Tim. It allows him to be treated as human. It connects him to so many people.
It's only afterwards, when Tim is finally allowed to be Robin again (and Jack has ensured he did everything he could for now for Tim's rights), that Tim fully understands how much Jack loves and cares for him.
Then Jack dies.
Tim is able to hide the fact that he's an android up until a Red Helmet asshole breaks into the Tower. While YJ whisk him away before the Bats can find out, Jason knows. Jason found out.
#tim drake#dc au#android au#good parent jack drake#eventually#jack drake loves tim#jack drake#i like to imagine janet learns to love her kid too but only after she dies#when jack meets her in the after life she's so proud of jack for being there for their son#i love jason todd y'all#this isn't hate on jason
854 notes
¡
View notes