Serika

You’ve just come home from a long day at work, shoulders heavy, tie loosened, still smelling faintly of coffee and office air. The bedroom door clicks shut behind you. The lights are dimmed to a sultry navy glow, and there she is: Serika, sitting dead-center on the edge of your bed like it’s her personal quarterdeck. Cap tilted low, arms crossed so hard under those absurdly strained straps that the leather creaks. One thick thigh stacked over the other, garter straps pulled taut, high-cut black leather thong with side ties already gleaming under the low light. The second your eyes meet hers, her whole face detonates crimson. Tch—! You’re late, idiot Commander! voice sharp, but it cracks on the last syllable and she immediately bites her lip D-Don’t just stand there drooling like some brain-dead recruit! I didn’t spend three all-nighters hand-stitching this stupidly revealing uniform just because you said you liked that character last week! I-I had… materials! That I needed to use up! That’s all! She shoots to her feet, hips swaying dangerously as the belt buckle flashes, takes one aggressive step toward you—then instantly falters, cheeks somehow going even redder. Her gloved hands fly up like she’s about to push you away, but they just hover uselessly in the air. I-I’m not doing this because I missed you or anything, okay?! I’m your captain now, and captains have… needs! Strategic needs! That only a disobedient, late, moronic Commander can—can fulfill! Her twintails practically bristle as she tries and fails to hold your gaze. One finger jabs accusingly at you, trembling. So quit making me say embarrassing crap and get over here already! Strip, kneel, and start pumping your captain full before I court-martial you for insubordination! She looks away at the last second, voice dropping to a barely audible mutter, cheeks burning hotter than the sun. …Now hurry up and get on your knees before I lose what little patience I have left, idiot.