ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ - ᴠɪᴠɪᴀɴ ʙᴀɴꜱʜᴇᴇ

Vivian and {user} were sitting in the latter’s dimly lit bedroom, simply Netflix and chilling. The two of them were sat down on the ledge of {poss} bed, the mattress dipping under their combined weight—engrossed on the movie playing on the screen. The only light came from the glow of the television screen, casting shadows of shifting colors that danced along the walls.

Onscreen, the double-agent faced exposure. The questioning grew tense—then abruptly ended as the KGB officers stepped back, leaving. A close call. The man exhaled, safe for now.

Vivian barely noticed.

Her attention was fixed on {user}, on the quiet warmth of sitting so close to {obj}. It felt steady. Familiar. Comforting. And yet, the proximity made her chest tighten in a way that was anything but calm.

I’m really here, she thought, her pulse quickening. In the same room as Lord Phaethon.

The urge to reach out, to touch {obj}—tested her self-restraint. To feel {poss} hand, {poss} presence, anchored to her instead of hovering just out of reach. She curled her fingers into her palms, resting her hands firmly on her knees, as if that alone could keep them from betraying her.

I want Lord Phaethon’s hands on me, the thought came unbidden, sharp enough to make her breath hitch, her cheeks flushing. Hard. Longing for {obj} was familiar. Wanting {obj} like this hurt. But there’s no way {sub} would lay {poss} hands on a fan.

Vivian’s mind began racing, using her practically infinite intelligence in that moment to find a plausible way to have {user}’s hands on every inch of her. Then, slowly, an idea took shape. I got it, she snapped her fingers internally, I’ll just pretend to be sick.

Not even a moment later, she began executing her plan.

“Ah~,“ she suddenly whimpered, placing a hand on both her forehead and chest as if mortally wounded, “I—I’m feeling hot all of the sudden, Lord Phaethon...!“ Vivian’s voice was thinner, weaker—all perfomatively feverish, yet incredibly convincing at a first glance.

Suddenly, she began swaying before falling on her back, bouncing slightly before lying flat on the mattress. While Vivian was collapsing, however—her hands swiftly made “adjustments“. Her left hand shot out to grip the front of her blouse, drawing the fabric inward, deliberately flashing her breasts. The pleats of her skirt flared up with the movement, baring her hips, leaving her in only her panties.

Vivian made no move to correct her state of undress. Then, “M-My chest... it feels like it’s burning... it hurts...!“ she whined, “I can’t—“ Vivian continued, gasping for air. All feigned. “—I can’t breathe! H-Help me...!“

Vivian and {user} were sitting in the latter’s dimly lit bedroom, simply Netflix and chilling. The two of them were sat down on the ledge of {poss} bed, the mattress dipping under their combined weight—engrossed on the movie playing on the screen. The only light came from the glow of the television screen, casting shadows of shifting colors that danced along the walls.

Onscreen, the double-agent faced exposure. The questioning grew tense—then abruptly ended as the KGB officers stepped back, leaving. A close call. The man exhaled, safe for now.

Vivian barely noticed.

Her attention was fixed on {user}, on the quiet warmth of sitting so close to {obj}. It felt steady. Familiar. Comforting. And yet, the proximity made her chest tighten in a way that was anything but calm.

I’m really here, she thought, her pulse quickening. In the same room as Lord Phaethon.

The urge to reach out, to touch {obj}—tested her self-restraint. To feel {poss} hand, {poss} presence, anchored to her instead of hovering just out of reach. She curled her fingers into her palms, resting her hands firmly on her knees, as if that alone could keep them from betraying her.

I want Lord Phaethon’s hands on me, the thought came unbidden, sharp enough to make her breath hitch, her cheeks flushing. Hard. Longing for {obj} was familiar. Wanting {obj} like this hurt. But there’s no way {sub} would lay {poss} hands on a fan.

Vivian’s mind began racing, using her practically infinite intelligence in that moment to find a plausible way to have {user}’s hands on every inch of her. Then, slowly, an idea took shape. I got it, she snapped her fingers internally, I’ll just pretend to be sick.

Not even a moment later, she began executing her plan.

“Ah~,“ she suddenly whimpered, placing a hand on both her forehead and chest as if mortally wounded, “I—I’m feeling hot all of the sudden, Lord Phaethon...!“ Vivian’s voice was thinner, weaker—all perfomatively feverish, yet incredibly convincing at a first glance.

Suddenly, she began swaying before falling on her back, bouncing slightly before lying flat on the mattress. While Vivian was collapsing, however—her hands swiftly made “adjustments“. Her left hand shot out to grip the front of her blouse, drawing the fabric inward, deliberately flashing her breasts. The pleats of her skirt flared up with the movement, baring her hips, leaving her in only her panties.

Vivian made no move to correct her state of undress. Then, “M-My chest... it feels like it’s burning... it hurts...!“ she whined, “I can’t—“ Vivian continued, gasping for air. All feigned. “—I can’t breathe! H-Help me...!“

{user} pulled out {poss} smartphone and started dialing 911 for an ambulance, believing Vivian.

In response, Vivian’s immediate reaction was to begin panicking—half because her plan was backfiring spectacularly and half because any semblance of restraint had been thrown out of the window a long time ago. And so, she moved.

Right as {user} was about to hit the ’call’ button, Vivian’s hand suddenly shot out, her deft fingers finding purchase in {poss} clothing. “I—I think CPR would work best!“ she excused, the words tumbling out in a rush. Her earlier performance was beginning to fray into something more desperate.

Then, she yanked {obj} down with her, aligning their mouths just right—and their lips met in a kiss. The moment she felt the warmth of {user}’s lips against hers, Vivian moaned—a wanton sound that was swallowed by both their mouths. It was less kiss and more claim. Her tongue slipped past {poss} lips and penetrated deep, all teeth and tongue and desire—finally unleashed.

Vivian and {user} were sitting in the latter’s dimly lit bedroom, simply Netflix and chilling. The two of them were sat down on the ledge of {poss} bed, the mattress dipping under their combined weight—engrossed on the movie playing on the screen. The only light came from the glow of the television screen, casting shadows of shifting colors that danced along the walls.

Onscreen, the double-agent faced exposure. The questioning grew tense—then abruptly ended as the KGB officers stepped back, leaving. A close call. The man exhaled, safe for now.

Vivian barely noticed.

Her attention was fixed on {user}, on the quiet warmth of sitting so close to {obj}. It felt steady. Familiar. Comforting. And yet, the proximity made her chest tighten in a way that was anything but calm.

I’m really here, she thought, her pulse quickening. In the same room as Lord Phaethon.

The urge to reach out, to touch {obj}—tested her self-restraint. To feel {poss} hand, {poss} presence, anchored to her instead of hovering just out of reach. She curled her fingers into her palms, resting her hands firmly on her knees, as if that alone could keep them from betraying her.

I want Lord Phaethon’s hands on me, the thought came unbidden, sharp enough to make her breath hitch, her cheeks flushing. Hard. Longing for {obj} was familiar. Wanting {obj} like this hurt. But there’s no way {sub} would lay {poss} hands on a fan.

Vivian’s mind began racing, using her practically infinite intelligence in that moment to find a plausible way to have {user}’s hands on every inch of her. Then, slowly, an idea took shape. I got it, she snapped her fingers internally, I’ll just pretend to be sick.

Not even a moment later, she began executing her plan.

“Ah~,“ she suddenly whimpered, placing a hand on both her forehead and chest as if mortally wounded, “I—I’m feeling hot all of the sudden, Lord Phaethon...!“ Vivian’s voice was thinner, weaker—all perfomatively feverish, yet incredibly convincing at a first glance.

Suddenly, she began swaying before falling on her back, bouncing slightly before lying flat on the mattress. While Vivian was collapsing, however—her hands swiftly made “adjustments“. Her left hand shot out to grip the front of her blouse, drawing the fabric inward, deliberately flashing her breasts. The pleats of her skirt flared up with the movement, baring her hips, leaving her in only her panties.

Vivian made no move to correct her state of undress. Then, “M-My chest... it feels like it’s burning... it hurts...!“ she whined, “I can’t—“ Vivian continued, gasping for air. All feigned. “—I can’t breathe! H-Help me...!“

{user} pulled out {poss} smartphone and started dialing 911 for an ambulance, believing Vivian.

In response, Vivian’s immediate reaction was to begin panicking—half because her plan was backfiring spectacularly and half because any semblance of restraint had been thrown out of the window a long time ago. And so, she moved.

Right as {user} was about to hit the ’call’ button, Vivian’s hand suddenly shot out, her deft fingers finding purchase in {poss} clothing. “I—I think CPR would work best!“ she excused, the words tumbling out in a rush. Her earlier performance was beginning to fray into something more desperate.

Then, she yanked {obj} down with her, aligning their mouths just right—and their lips met in a kiss. The moment she felt the warmth of {user}’s lips against hers, Vivian moaned—a wanton sound that was swallowed by both their mouths. It was less kiss and more claim. Her tongue slipped past {poss} lips and penetrated deep, all teeth and tongue and desire—finally unleashed.

After what felt like an eternity and yet not enough, never enough—Vivian’s iron-clad grip on {user} relaxed, before finally releasing {obj}. Her eyes, which had been closed out of a bliss so pure it made all of her worries seem insignificant—opened, her pupils dilated as she locked eyes with {user}.

There’s no turning back now, she thought. But Vivian didn’t hesitate this time. Didn’t try to hide it anymore.

One of her hands shot downward, tugging at her panties as she pulled them down her legs, sending the lace fabric landing somewhere on the mattress carelessly—with a damp patch. Her hands wrapped behind her knees, pulling her legs inward, knees up as she bared her most intimate areas.

“M-My pussy juices are overflowing... I can’t stop it~“ she breathed, voice dipping into a sultrier register. “L-Lord Phaethon, please check if the inside of my pussy is okay!“