#I have nothing else to lose at this point

[girl-lostconnection]

Concept of a concept time:

Reader who goes through the whole relationship with Ghoap or the whole 141 believing that they would always come second place, because of course Simon would burn the world down if Soap was taken out of it. Of course, Price would do everything and anything to save Simon. Of course, Simon would turn into monster if it meant keeping his family safe, keeping his TaskForce safe.

Of course, Kyle would go mad with grief if he was to lose Johnny. Of course, Kyle would become a shell of himself if he lost Price.

Of course they would all shatter without each other alive and well. It was obvious. It was a fact.

Reader who sees it and places themselves on the outside of it, because these men were already something before they came along. These men were already tight knit and close to each other.

These men were already family when Reader got dropped into their laps. It’s only natural they don’t really slot fully. There’s just no more space.

Reader who takes every bit and crumb of an affection they are given. Reader who gives away everything. All of them. Every kiss and confession, every hug, every bit of love and care they have. They give it all, because yeah, maybe they will never be a part of these 4. But they can be near and maybe…maybe that’s enough?

Reader, who dies. Not instead of Soap, not instead of anyone. They just don’t come back from the job one day, their foot locker was supposed to be shipped out to the family. But there is no family.

So 141 takes it. Who, if not them, right?

Reader, who dies and haunts the narrative from that point on. Reader who leaves a hole the size of a person and no one can fill it. It’s impossible.

Reader, whose warmth was seeping through them all for so long, the absence of it feels like a whiplash. The absence of it feels in their bones and it’s cold-cold-cold now. Their hearth dies and there is nothing to do about it but keep going.

Soldiers die every day, this one shouldn’t have been special. But they were.

Kyle who takes their personal things before someone else can come and toss them out, sleeping with their T-shirts and hoodies. Part of him dies with Reader. Part of him is getting buried with them. He’s sitting at their funeral until Price leads him away.

Simon who takes their photos and books, hiding them, keeping them safe. He needs to have it, because memory is traitorous and one day he might not be able to put a face to the name and he’s terrified of it to the point of feeling sick.

Soap who takes mementoes — keychains and magnets from all of the deployments, he takes every knick knack they found in the foot locker and Reader’s room, he stores them next to his. There are new keychains on every set of his keys. He’s fumbling with them every time he feels like there’s knot in his throat and he can’t speak.

Price gets the notebooks. Just a few of those were in a footlocker, filled with scribbles and meal plans and random quotes and games Reader played with Kyle during boring briefings. But it feels like them. It smells like them. Reader never wrote a consistent diary, too little time and too much going on, but they notated the places and times and that Soap coughs like a sick Victorian child and that Kyle has the most perfect beauty marks on his thighs and that Price sneezes like dad and that Simon sleeps with lamp on.

It is everything there was of them. Everything there’s left of their love and John isn’t sure he’d be able to part with it. It isn’t fair that it happened like that. It isn’t fair that he feels like destroying his whole office when he reads the “im not sure i fit in. on the bright side I reckon if something was to happen to me, no one would mourn too long. they have each other, I should be happy it is like that. I should be grateful” because it’s not fair-not fair-not fair-not fair.

John doesn’t show these diaries to anyone. John guards them like his most prized possession, reading it over and over because you, silly perfect thing, why haven’t you said anything. Why haven’t they noticed anything.

John doesn’t show it to anyone because he’s not sure if they won’t crumble under the notion. He’s not sure they won’t shatter when the rest find out that Reader died thinking they weren’t part of the family.

John sobs so hard, bile rises to his throat, world swimming in his eyes and it hurts, and he’s so fucking angry and it’s so unfair. Because it’s not true, because of course you were part of them, of course you matter, of course they mourn.

Because you die never finding out how much you were loved. Because there’s nothing he can do.

And it’s not fair.

[prael]

Day 12: Three Shades of Sin

Le Sserafim Kazuha & Yunjin & TripleS Xinyu

words: 11,736 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

Look, you know this story starts with the way Xinyu has her fingers threaded beneath Kazuha's jaw, her lipstick smeared off in bits and pieces, but that’s not actually how it ends. It’s a slow descent; watching your girlfriend kiss someone new is a beautiful disaster that never really loses its lustre, and the truth is, there’s no moral at the end of this tale - the closest you’ll get to something cathartic is this:

Yunjin grinning at you, sunshine-bright and wickedly gorgeous. “You gonna invite us in, or what?”

-

First things first: the bar is packed - oh, it's always packed - but especially so on the nights when Kazuha performs. It's not a burlesque club, not really; in theory, it's not all that much more than an upscale lounge for yuppies with more money than they need, trying to pretend they're living sophisticated lives with a splash of debauchery on the side.

It's packed, obviously, because they're getting a little more debauchery than expected tonight - but all the familiar faces are there: the grad-school crowd who treat this club like the neighbourhood dive bar; the pretentious A-list types who claim to hate this kind of thing but always seem to show up anyway; the trust-fund kids and their vices and habits; the semi-locals, like you. They’re the mainstay: you know their drink orders, what they’re into, whether you’ve gone home with them before. You know who is dating who. Who's got a looser distinction between romance and just fooling around. Who got fired. Who's always fucked up beyond all help. You know the girl sitting at the end of the bar nursing a cosmo and waiting for you, alone.

She'd come to see Kazuha perform like everyone else.

"You missed my boyfriend," Xinyu says to you, just shy of winking. She looks beautiful - she always does, of course, but this time: she's wearing black leggings and a crop top that shows off the cut of her waist, her toned abs. The skirt is so small it's basically an accessory to how she's got her dark hair pinned up into something half-bedroom, half-backstage-chic, hoop earrings that dangle just above the slope of her neck.

"Did I?" you reply, coy. It's not flirting - or maybe it is, you're not sure.

She tips her head, cheek resting delicately on her knuckles. You end up staring at her mouth; the words coquettish and prurient and absolutely, unquestionably fuckable are swirling around your brain. "Yep," she says, and her lips curve beautifully. "You did."

Xinyu turning up the dial until she's impossible to resist is pretty much standard-operating-procedure here- it's sort of like this place runs through her blood. She's claimed ownership of it for herself.

"It's too bad," she says, drumming acrylics on the countertop. She shoots you a look that's all bedroom eyes: that drowsy, liquid-lidded kind of want that tells you she'd have her head tilted back against your pillows in less than a few minutes if you asked. "I think you would've really gotten along."

"Guess I'll just have to settle for his girlfriend." You lean closer to her, conspiratorial. "This is fun. What else are we doing tonight?"

"Oh, yeah, you know." She stretches long and languid, satisfied. "Same as usual." That means dancing - some partying, probably lots of drinking, flirting. You're going to take her home and pin her wrists to the pillow above her head. You don't mind any of that - it's become your life, these last months, too. You know the routine here like you've known it for years.

"Want something to drink?" you ask her, and Xinyu considers you. Like she's going to pounce.

"Not really," she says, and then her chin fits into the dip between her thumb and pointer finger. You get closer. "Think I'm thirsty for something else." There's nothing left of the distance between you, and you're not kissing her yet, not yet - but the tension is making a point of shuddering and cracking.

All that promise of something more.

"Don't let this go to your head, but." Xinyu reaches out a hand. You play into the script; you take it and bring her knuckles to your lips. Her wrist smells like the perfume you bought her a Christmas ago. You kiss there, too - for a split second. "I love my boyfriend. He's great." Your eyes dart to hers again - she's always watching, waiting for the attention to come back her way. "But sometimes girls just hit differently, right?"

"See anyone in particular?" you say, still nonchalant, while Xinyu hooks a fingertip onto the neckline of your shirt.

"Oh," says Xinyu. Her grin is devilish, dangerous: like she'd carve right through your throat. "That's cute of you. Like, you really wanna know, hm? I have a list."

"How long is it?" You raise an eyebrow, feign boredom. She likes the challenge.

"Depends on the night."

"But I'm at the top," you continue, unabashed - your usual brand of charming. "Right?"

Xinyu laughs; it's a delight, musical and precious. You'd listen to it for hours if you could.

"You already know, honey." Her nails skim your neck; they catch in your hair. The strands fall over the silver around her fingers. "Top of my list, and everyone else's, too."

"Nope." You lean even further over the bar, stealing the inches, taking them for your own. "Not tonight."

"I don't share." Xinyu taps your nose, prim, smirking. Her eyes are shining, brimming with energy - you can't look away from her. She's intoxicating. She's beautiful. "He wouldn't like that anyway."

"Oh, come on. That sounds like a 'him' problem. Right?"

There's a raucous chorus of laughter from across the floor: people coming in from the cold, wanting to see the show, see a gorgeous girl in next-to-nothing strut her stuff up onstage. You watch as Xinyu's eyelashes flutter, delighted - she's waiting for something to begin; this is a ritual that repeats, the fervour starting low and ending high.

And it starts, and it ends, always, with you looking at her.

"We'll see," sings Xinyu, and she twirls on her stool, one leg neatly hooked over the other. The bar erupts into thunderous applause - the lights dim, and Kazuha emerges onstage.

-

See, the club isn't normally about stripteases - sure, some girls dance - but this is still a place with bottle service and $18 cocktails, not one where dancers make a show of stripping out of their lingerie. And it's not like you care much for how people try to make themselves seem better than they are, really: if you wanna be trashy, fine. If you want to keep up appearances, put on some kind of show like you're worth a dime more than anyone else out there, great, fine, do that. This place may be the latter, but in the end, it's all the same; everything falls apart once the night sets in. Everything stays messy, no matter which box you paint yourself into.

That's a long preface to say: you're just not expecting her in the slightest.

To be honest, most nights aren't all that exciting - there are people to remember, drinks to mix up, tabs to close and mouths to kiss, sometimes - but mostly, there's not a lot worth mentioning. When people come into the bar - the people who are new, the people who think that this is an opportunity for the night to turn interesting - you look up, size them up, wonder who they're going home with, if you're interested at all. More often than not, it's none of the above.

"Hi," says the new face as she slides up to you on the stool. Well, okay, so this part is different.

Xinyu stepped out earlier - said she had someone else to find, said you'd probably like who she had in mind, but whatever. You'll see when you see. You're not picky. You were ready to dick around on your phone until your girlfriend figured out which plaything you were both in the mood for tonight - you're not opposed to another addition, not at all - but then-

Then the girl sits at the bar, leans on her elbows over the polished surface. Rakes her fingers through the wisps of dark hair at her forehead, pushes it back, and -

And meets your gaze dead on, and doesn't break it. Not even a bit.

Okay - so, she's blindingly, impossibly stunning. A textbook fucking ten.

"Hi," she says again, firmer, like she knows what you're thinking. "Do they serve anything here that isn't blue or tastes like putting your tongue to a nine-volt?"

It's such a shockingly mild opener that you immediately laugh at her. It just spills right out of you.

"Yeah," you say, leaning against the bar, mildly amused. You call over the bartender, order in duplicate - you're pretty sure that's how this works, you have to get the drink in front of her, not even mention it, just let her know that you're calling the shots here - and then fix her with another look, eyebrows quirked. "New in town?" you ask. Small talk. Sure.

"No," she replies, "just new in here." She tosses her silky red hair over her shoulder. Reveals the halter-neck of her blouse and the deepness of the dip. Her collarbones are out. You barely even notice. "Also," she continues, "this place is a fucking zoo."

There's no patience to her. She's harsh, no filter. Your drinks arrive, and she hardly reacts when they do.

"It's a bit crowded." You're trying somewhat to stay diplomatic. "It's the girl on stage," you offer, and you gesture vaguely towards Kazuha's figure: long legs and curves in all the right places, raven-black hair falling to her waist. Everyone looks at her like she's a gift sent down from heaven. She's dressed in something gold, sequin, and she knows that they're pretty much right.

"Well, I guess that explains it."

"Everyone's hoping she'll take off more clothes." You shrug your shoulders at your new companion. "But she never does, so I'm not quite sure why everyone thinks tonight will be the exception."

"No shit," the girl drawls, her tone entirely blasé - she's so painfully disaffected, the disinterested, entitled type; your heart skips a beat. "No offence to you, man, but I think most of the guys here are either idiots or creeps." The redhead wrinkles her nose. "Or both."

"A fair assessment, honestly," you muse. Sip your drink. It's bitter. She hasn't touched hers. "You think I'm any different?"

The corner of her mouth ticks up. "No," she says.

The room seems to tilt sideways, and everything gets fuzzy: it feels like you're supposed to be talking in code or perhaps just reading between lines - there's a whole secret conversation happening beneath this surface-level, meaningless banter. You're making contact, making plans. She knows where this is going. You're right there with her.

"The girl up there is cute," the redhead says after a while, thoughtful. "What's your deal with her? How come you haven't turned into one of the animals in the horde yet?"

It's an obvious line of questioning.

"She's nice," you admit, "but I've already got something good going with someone. No need to push my luck with anyone else."

At this, she raises an eyebrow, curious, cautious, wary. "Nice, how?"

"I mean, she's beautiful," you say, "very pretty." Easy things. Surface things. These things anyone could list off. "Cute voice."

"Nothing in particular, though, huh." Her eyes flick back to the performer onstage - Kazuha's walking the catwalk, kicking her heel out at the men closest to her; her skirt rides up, and everyone goes absolutely wild for it - and then returns her focus to you. "Not your type?"

You've been in this seat - or one just like it, at least - watching Kazuha's ass onstage for countless nights. You're well aware of her appeal, but you can't figure out a harmless way to say your mind is giving you three images of a palm-print burning across the same expanse of skin at any given moment.

You shrug, ambivalence feigned. "I guess not."

"It's funny." She props her chin on her palm, her nail polish glittering against her jawline. She's barely touched her drink. "The girl's normally such a doll, right? Kind of girlish. Could barely hold a conversation with a boy when I met her. And now she's all that. On stage."

"Hmm," you reply, like you can't imagine it. "Is that right?"

"Oh yeah," she tells you, half-smiling. Her lipstick leaves marks on the glass as she takes her first sip. "Years of ballet school will do that to a girl. Though maybe something about performing just became second nature."

"Explains the legs," you mutter, feeling the look she levels with you; dangerous. "And the gracefulness," you amend quickly. She raises an eyebrow at you, and you raise one right back; it's a power struggle, and when her fingers curl across her chin, you almost choke on nothing.

"Legs and grace," she says. "That's about it for her, huh?"

You nod, your voice quiet, soft.

"How do you know her?" you ask gently.

"Oh, honey," she croons. Her face is halfway to laughter, mirth perched like a threat in her voice. She puts a palm flat on the counter and slides it forward so her manicure scrapes at the varnish. Leans into you over the edge of the bar and presses her lips to your ear. "I'm fucking her."

Everything in your brain stops, and starts; everything crashes down around you; everything rearranges.

"You know," the girl continues like she's explaining something casual, something innocent, "she's real fun on her hands and knees. Can't get enough of me." She tilts her head, contemplative. "I suppose she is beautiful," she adds, almost thoughtfully, and then reaches out her fingers. Tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "And graceful."

All you can picture are those gorgeous, creamy thighs marked up by nails like razors: bruises shaped like fingertips, angry scratches that would leave scars if pushed hard enough. Things for her to return to.

You swallow. You blink.

"She's very lovely," you say, careful, careful.

"Listen." The girl leans away, sweeps her red hair back over her shoulder, fixes you with her heavy-lidded eyes again. "We don't have to pretend we're in love or anything." Her voice is velvet, husky; the words catch at your eardrum and melt there, dripping down the bones of your skull like liquid seduction. "She's busy, clearly. So, I'm looking for a little company tonight, and I think I've found it."

"And your girlfriend?"

"Can't make it." She smiles, wolfish. "Which, if you don't mind me saying, is very lucky for you."

"Girlfriend, who you fuck into the mattress," you clarify. "She'd have no problem sharing?"

"With a pretty thing like you?" Her eyelashes flutter - the way they sweep low makes shadows across her cheeks, delicate. "No chance she'd object."

Your mouth twists to the side. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," she purrs. "Just: I'm going to go to the bathroom, and I think you could follow me there in five minutes, tops. Sound like a plan, handsome?"

Oh.

Okay. You think vaguely that Xinyu's probably got a hand in this, somehow. Doing this on purpose, leaving you here to fend for yourself - and it's a very Xinyu kind of move, really: setting you up with some stranger, letting her proposition you, and waiting for it to escalate past the point of return. Sending you right up to a pretty pair of vices, telling you to chew them down to size. Maybe if you do good - you already know how she wants you to perform - you'll get an actual reward later. Another girl for you to fuck, or maybe Xinyu herself. Or both. Your brain is spinning in circles. You really, really can't think straight with her breathing right onto your pulse.

"What, you've got something better to do than fuck two girls tonight? The girl seems to weigh something out in her mind; watches you through a side-long glance. "You really can't drop everything to play around for a little bit?"

So maybe it's not Xinyu's handiwork - this is a little too far-fetched, even for her - but you can't lie. When she goes ahead, drags her fingers on your shoulder as she glides by and doesn't bother looking back, the way your cock throbs makes it easy to decide that it doesn't matter.

-

You get lost a bit on the logistics. (That'll actually be a recurring theme.)

There's a pair of single-occupancy toilets in the back of the bar, ostensibly family washrooms; for mothers with children, wheelchairs, sloppy bathroom sex with god-blessedly gorgeous strangers, that sort of thing - but they're occupied. Both the handles spun up; red tags flipped up to indicate engagement, a motif, and symbolism in spades. Something heavy-handed and easily ignored.

"Maybe I should just get on my knees right here," she suggests eventually - like a joke, but she'd do it. You're pretty sure.

"Absolutely not," you counter, only a little bit scandalized. She grins and presses a palm flat to your abdomen.

"Just problem-solving." She's totally blasé. "Critical thinking."

"Careful with that," you warn her, sorta unreasonably given where your fingers are on the cut of her hips.

She pretends to think about it, fingers tapping thoughtfully on her lip, a comical exaggeration, and you just roll your eyes. You think about getting her name, maybe a number - you could just leave it at that, save her contact info under tall, great ass, (fuckable) lips and pray to hell it never comes up as recommended when someone else texts you.

Yeah, right. It's better to just bury yourself in this until it all dissolves - stick to the immediacy of it. Get your mouth on every part of her body and lick her clean, and then be gone before the sun rises. Right?

She pulls you down by your neck and slots your lips together again, slow, agonizing, her lips slipping over yours like they're made to be there. She kisses like it's an art form - something you can perfect, practice - and her tongue darts along the seam of your mouth like she wants to coax you open. There's the bite of cherry lipstick, sweet and candied; her fingertips into your belt loops, then yanks you toward her with her nose scrunched and a wicked smile.

"I can't believe you'd let me fuck you with your back against the wall like this." Her hips bump forward into yours - she's playing at bashful, coy and innocent. She's failing miserably. "What if someone sees?"

"I think you'd like that," you answer.

"Mmm," she agrees. She's tipping her head back, sliding her tongue across her upper lip, baring her neck to you. Her eyes flick back up, dragging like a blade. "Letting someone walk by, seeing you pushing into me, knowing I was about to make you lose control...yeah. Sounds hot, honestly."

"Shut up," you murmur, leaning closer.

"Make me," she kisses back, eyes flashing; oh, if you didn't feel it before, this is definitely how you know you'll see her again: you recognize the power in her stance, the firecracker-red blaze in her glare - it's like looking in a mirror, that domineering aggression. It's the promise of a rivalry; something you'll want to tame.

A wayward thought lingers: oh, hell - your mind is rapid on the recall, an endless, eager, addicting memory loop - how she kisses, too. The silky sweetness, the enthusiasm - the way her hands bury in your shirt and her pitched, muffled sounds of appreciation spill right into your throat. How she's such an obscene daydream, and the filthy, filthy things she tells you with her hands in your hair - the shock of that, her bold, pretty mouth telling you what she's fantasizing about right now and the fact that those fantasies line up with yours in nearly every sense. Her very presence is a contradiction, her mismatched gestures: tender kisses and wandering hands; how, for every inch given, she'll take five more.

You get your fingers under her skirt, pull her legs up to your waist; she wraps her palm over your cock; smiles against your lips, almost smitten but too arrogant for it: a villainous grin. You hitch one of her thighs over your hip, her panties damp against your slacks. Oh, how good she is - how perfect the feeling, how beautifully her teeth sink into the soft underside of your lower lip like you belong to her: a piece of property.

"That's it, sweetheart," you groan, kissing the apple of her cheek, letting the blush seep right under your tongue. Your hand hovers near her inner thigh. "God, you're so fucking sexy."

"Touch me," she hisses into the skin of your cheek.

"So demanding," you hum.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," she moans, arching into your chest - but her eyelashes flutter as your thumb ghosts across the fabric of her underwear, teasing. "Ah-ha..."

You'll justify it later, somehow: a cheat night, maybe - Xinyu's so used to getting other girls all to herself, you should have a few all to your own - and this one doesn't count as one, really; she belongs to someone else anyway, the raven-haired girl with the siren voice, long legs in silk stockings and pearls across her neck and high-heeled boots clicking across the pavement. And Kazuha doesn't even have to know: she's busy, probably; off with another guy or two or three. No reason to tell her what happens - you certainly won't complain. One orgasm and the redhead will be out of your hair.

There's a side door, some stairs. Nobody stops to ask who you are or where you're going, or even so much as bat an eye as you spill out into the alley - where people go to smoke or fight or vomit; she kisses you outside in the cold air, sliding her hands into your pockets and pushing up to the tips of her toes. There's a smile on her face like you're her best idea ever. It's cold out; she doesn't appear to care.

"God, I'm wet," she breathes, and you don't have to believe her.

"I bet I can help with that." Your jacket slides across your shoulders, off onto the concrete. You're leading her around a corner and against a brick wall. It's dark here. Dark enough for mistakes. Dark enough that you can press her spine to the bricks, slide your hands to her sides and lift her up, taste the lipstick across her jawline-

"Oh my god," comes a voice - softer, sweeter, a total siren lilt. "Please, fuck, that feels so-"

Both your heads swivel.

One streetlight illuminates Kazuha with her back pressed to the bricks and her hand curled tightly in all this black hair, panting, pleading: a perfect fucking masterpiece. She's got her eyes screwed shut, her lips parted; she's absolutely lost.

"Huh," says the redhead, dispassionate - and her fingers curl loosely over your forearm, drumming rhythmically. "Looks like she got distracted after all."

The hand between her legs is fucking her up and doing it fast, snapping sharp wrist motions accompanied by these rhythmic, throaty gasps from Kazuha as she holds onto the edge of a dumpster lid, clawing at metal. There's a muffled string of curses as the woman crouches, leaning forward - shoving her tongue inside. "Fu-uck," Kazuha manages, two distinct syllables - and her grip tightens around her waist, her spine. You catch the light shining off her gold earrings like a flash-warning, and you fall short of a breath.

“Xinyu?” you sputter. “What’re you-”

Xinyu extracts her hand from Kazuha’s cunt, licks her fingers clean and turns to you, not at all guilty - but she isn’t sorry, either. You blink hard.

“Oh, hey,” says Xinyu, cheery as anything. She brushes off her dress. “Didn’t think I’d find you here.”

“Neither did we,” you choke, dry-mouthed. “Are you…”

“We’re making use of some downtime,” offers Kazuha, smoothing down her hair, wiping off her smudged lipstick. The makeup is so precise that it doesn’t look smudged at all - or maybe that’s just how used she is to covering it up. “Is there a problem?”

“No, none-” Your mouth snaps shut as Xinyu meets your stare and gives you an impish little shrug, biting back a smile. She saunters over to where you stand, keeping a respectable distance.

“Look at this, babe," Xinyu says. She gestures to the girl you were making out two seconds ago, casual. "I found him first. Isn’t he handsome?”

“You’ve got weird taste,” replies the redhead, not unkindly, tilting her head back against the wall and exposing all that gorgeous skin. You can see her chest rise and fall in ragged breaths. Xinyu walks a hand up your torso, palms your collarbone with a suggestive smile - it's a little possessive, but then again, you realize you’ve forgotten to let go of the other girl's hand.

“You would be into him,” retorts Kazuha. She laughs softly. “Hi, Jen,” she adds, almost as an afterthought.

“Hey,” Yunjin says, wiggling her fingers, lazy. “Loved the performance."

"Shut the fuck up," snipes Kazuha, rolling her eyes, but she's flushed, halfway to an orgasm that's not gonna happen because everyone is apparently choosing now to puzzle this one out. "Could see you flirting with him the entire time, idiot."

"He's super fucking hot," says Yunjin. "Oh, speaking of which-" She tugs you closer by your wrist - you're stuck, standing still, trapped between three gorgeous women ready to argue over who saw who first.

“Wait,” you manage, breaking free. Yunjin huffs. Xinyu frowns, blinking. Kazuha leans back against the wall.

“We didn’t plan this or anything,” explains Kazuha. “Xinyu just likes what she sees sometimes.” There’s a practised ease in the way she says this - like this has all been rehearsed before between the two of them. "Or, well-" Kazuha lifts a shoulder, delicate, polished. "A lot of the time, I guess."

"Yeah," Xinyu says, not defensive. "So?"

"Well," you say, after a long moment - your mind working furiously to process, reconcile, synthesize - this scene where you're being pulled in six directions at once, trying to put this story together before any more pages flip.

"That's your girlfriend," you say to Yunjin, finally - and point a finger towards Kazuha.

"And yours," says Kazuha, one hand on Xinyu's hip. “Hi,” she adds.

"Yep," says Xinyu. "How about that."

She steps up close to you and bats those dark lashes. Behind her, Kazuha’s gaze catches your glance; it takes you a solid ten seconds to realize she’s trying to place where she’s seen you before - it clicks for her all at once, though it's a lot quicker for you - and then it all slots neatly into place, every cog and screw lining up in an easy motion.

“So.” Yunjin chews idly at the pad of her thumb. "What, you guys met once at the mall or something?"

"Yeah," you reply, realizing exactly how you and yours have come to fall for two of the same type. "We met at the mall."

If you'd like to imagine that this goes smoothly after that - it doesn't. Not really. It's more accurate to say that Yunjin looks at you, your blank stare, the panic - and the three girls just dissolve into laughter, giddy and conspiratorial like they've just pulled off the world's greatest coup.

"C'mon," says Yunjin. She's so good at reading social cues - like, oh, you being totally stunned-silent by the sheer amount of sexual energy suddenly coursing through this alleyway. "You said it yourself," Yunjin reminds you, gesturing at Kazuha, "beautiful, very pretty, nice legs." She brings her lips to your cheek. "You didn't lie about that."

"What?" says Kazuha.

Yunjin just smiles, brushes a lock of red hair behind her ear. "We have taste," she tells Kazuha, confident and poised - and then to you, hushed under her breath, "I'd watch you rail her," she murmurs. Her tongue darts out, pressing wet and warm into the shell of your ear. "Would you like that?"

"That's-" you start. You stop. Xinyu looks over at you, a devious flicker lighting up her eyes - oh, god; if that doesn't spell disaster, nothing does -and the grin she gives you is so downright evil you wonder why you ever dared dream you stood a chance. She looks back over at Kazuha, reaches out a hand to clasp gently at that impossible waist, pulling her in close.

"Sweetheart," Xinyu drawls, tracing a thumb over her jawline. "Doll," she continues, letting the nickname linger. She leans up, pecks a kiss against Kazuha's mouth - but her eyes don't leave yours for a second. She bites down gently on Kazuha's lower lip, tugging lightly at the skin before letting it snap back.

"You know I wouldn't ever get jealous over sharing something with you," Xinyu murmurs. She says it like a proclamation; something binding, solemn - a pact signed in ink, wax-sealed and pressed into the skin of Kazuha's collarbone. They're practically the same height. It makes your throat run dry. "You get me," she says.

Yunjin laughs, but not meanly. "It's cute how you pretend you aren't selfish," she says to Xinyu, rolling her eyes. Her lips curve upwards. "Tell me something I don't know." And then - you feel her fingertips trail delicately over your waistband, slipping her thumb below the hem of your jeans. "Hey, Kazuha?"

Kazuha drags her focus off Xinyu with visible effort, snapping back into the conversation.

"Wanna ride his face?"

Xinyu is grinning like a lunatic, gorgeous and predatory.

Kazuha gathers her hair off her neck. “He seems like the type who would want to eat pussy for hours."

"I wouldn't complain," you croak out - and Yunjin laughs. It’s genuine, unpracticed, the sort of thing that shakes her shoulders; it fills you up.

"Why don't you sit back down against that wall," she tells you, nudging at your ribs. Her touch feels electric. "Relax."

Oh. She says it like an order, and you realize that she knows full well what it'll do to you. She's still smiling, though it's sharper now, sharper, hungrier - like the glint of fangs that'll tear you apart. It's really no wonder you ended up exactly where she wanted you - but then you realize Kazuha's looking at you, and you realize that you're not entirely sure whose team you're on or if there even are any teams here. It's not like you can complain. The most you can manage is a grunt of acknowledgement, sitting down slowly, trying not to trip over your own feet and ruin everything.

"Good boy," Yunjin quips, quiet enough to feel private, intimate. You blink up at her, still holding her hand in your lap as you sit down, staring like she holds the key to all seven wonders of the world in her palm. "Kazuha," Yunjin calls over her shoulder, patting your arm. "Get over here. Come meet my new friend."

And that's sorta how you wind up in some kind of...what-the-fuck situation? Some otherworldly thing you shouldn't even hope to explain - some alternate dimension shit with two beautiful women pressing you back against some dirty-ass brick wall in the alley behind your usual haunt, a third one laughing hysterically at all four of you. You feel like the dumbest motherfucker alive, especially when Xinyu whispers something in Yunjin's ear, and it earns a resounding laugh, but mostly just because your girlfriend's hands are everywhere and Yunjin's sitting back and watching like it's prime-time television.

That - and also because Kazuha's decided she needs your face buried in her cunt ASAP, and frankly, you can't even muster up the energy to disagree.

-

First things first: the bar is packed - oh, wait, no: it's always packed. But especially so on the nights where you're trying to navigate this stupid situation, you got yourself into where three fucking goddesses have you on rotation, like clockwork. 

You're collecting coats and closing tabs, doing your absolute best not to bring any more attention to how Kazuha's wobbling on both legs because she can't quite walk straight anymore.

Yunjin - your current distraction, clad in the most perfect shade of red lipstick, clinging onto your favourite girl like a lifeline - keeps leaning over to Xinyu, whispering frantically in her ear, and it's like the more they talk, the more amused Xinyu gets.

"I told Yunjin your apartment's the closest," Xinyu says to you, eventually, a small smirk forming on her face. "Think she wants you alone for a while. Sounds like she thinks you could really, uh-" She nods toward you, gesturing pointedly towards your belt. "Blow her back out, is how she phrased it."

Oh. Well, then. Yeah, no, you'd be perfectly okay with that.

When you glance back over at the rest of your - you don't have a word for it - entourage, all three pairs of eyes are locked on you, expectant and eager. Jesus fucking Christ. You make brief eye contact with Yunjin; her smile grows impossibly wider. This was meant to be a casual night, wasn't it? A nice outing at the lounge bar where you down drinks and enjoy the scenery - that was how it started, right? Then Yunjin had shown up, demanding all your attention like you owed it to her just for existing (and honestly? You kinda do). It'd been an excuse to look at Kazuha's tits, and then another to press your mouth all over Xinyu's - but the way your girlfriend's looking at you makes it abundantly clear that that ship's already sailed. 

Kazuha raises a water bottle to her lips, looking cool and confident as ever (oh, you know better).

"Didn't mean to invite everyone over, but." Xinyu preens, adjusting the hem of her skirt and checking for signs of wear. She knows exactly what she's saying, exactly what you're thinking - there's an intentness to her words. "You wouldn't mind, right, baby?"

"Yeah, sure," you agree, glancing up at all of them with a nod. You've never moved faster in your life; your coat's over your arm, keys in your pocket, the whole ensemble. They're watching you, waiting patiently. Xinyu raises an eyebrow. "Lead the way?"

She beams. She turns, slips her purse strap over her shoulder. "Alright," she chirps - and the four of you take off into the night.

-

It's funny, you think: Xinyu's also had a weak spot for Kazuha, probably since the first time she saw her perform. (That's the part that sticks out in your brain.) But then again, maybe Kazuha knew about Xinyu too; they seem pretty damn cosy for this being their first interaction with each other, though you suppose you can't judge - you were practically aching for Yunjin within an hour of meeting her, weren't you?

But whatever. Your cock is in Yunjin's hand, and your mind is very much not present right now. That's the important thing.

By the time you finally unlocked your front door, all four of you stumbling in - everyone tipsy, aroused, dying to get their hands on someone's skin - Yunjin immediately glued herself to you, pushing your coat off your shoulders. She'd gotten your zipper undone in record time. It's not the first time, obviously: she's got this ghost of a grip around your cock already, a knowing stroke, this way of handling your arousal that feels almost proprietary in its control.

There's an island in the kitchen; you're washed up on its shore. Fingers spread across the marble sand as the edge presses against your lower back. "Drinks are in the—"

"You can skip the fanfare." Yunjin is stroking you, her other hand at the nape of your neck to pull you down, kiss her; your mouth meets hers, hot, messy, too hard. Pick up where you left off sort of thing. Some unheard conversation must have planned this, on the street or in the hallway or the elevator—they'd figured out some secret plot, who got what, how they would split up, and it starts here.

It's in your periphery that you see them cross, hand in hand, watching you come undone by the vixen in red. Xinyu is taking the lead, and you can see her mind working overtime to figure out what would drive you the most insane right now. She stops at the couch, centre-view, perching herself on the back of it to pull the other girl against her. Kazuha giggles in the high pitch, something that sounds too sweet to come from someone whose job it is to get men going—and maybe she does that on purpose: the look over her shoulder accompanies a feigned innocence.

Xinyu looks past her, gaze falling over Yunjin first: red dress, blood red lips, hair like a hearth-fire, and the hand moving on your cock in your unbuckled jeans. "A head start? How unfair." She rolls her eyes with all the mocking derision she can muster, but her smirk betrays her. She's pushing Kazuha by the shoulder, putting the dancer down on her knees. Even in the most compromising position possible, she looks immaculate: she sinks, legs together, ass perched on her heels. There's not a strand of hair out of place, and even in her lust, Xinyu strives to maintain the fact, so she takes care in the way she pulls Kazuha between her thighs. A gentle, fingertip hold, as she spreads her knees to frame her.

You watch with rapt attention; you can hardly look away. The whole thing is artfully posed.

Yunjin says your name, the first word you've heard from her, and you've only missed it a little. Your gaze moves to her. You expect another comment, snide, but her mouth parts, like the words have been stolen right out of it.

"You good?" You're trying to be a gentleman, if not an asshole—and it works, too; it spurs her back. She bites the corner of her lip and hums.

"Yeah, you know." A half-shrug accompanies her words as she lets you slide a strap from her shoulder. "Still waiting for you to blow my back out."

Oh. You laugh, hoarse. Yeah, that's—that's on the agenda, for sure.

It's just—the show, right across from you, has started.

Kazuha, in her performance, has Xinyu's skirt pushed up around her waist, face against her thigh, breath hot on her skin, fingers splayed over her knee to press her legs even wider. The most natural seduction; the effortless allure that laces every part of her. Her lips against skin are soft and pink, moving against the curve of the muscle, mouthing up higher. You know how that feels—travelling the vast expanse of Xinyu's long legs in search of something to bury your face in.

"She's in for a treat," Yunjin whispers.

"So am I," you return, placing a hand on Yunjin's now strapless shoulder and putting just enough weight into your hand that she knows she's going down.

"Can't promise I won't bite," she warns, in the tone that makes your throat dry, in the way you think she just might. But you've also had the image of Yunjin's head bobbing in your lap the whole cab ride home.

If there's a heaven, you'll find it in a mouth like this one: soft-lipped, warm and wet, tongue on you. You reach for the back of her neck, feel the silk of her hair under your palm as she sucks hard enough to make your hips jerk. Then there's the gentlest of grazes—her teeth on your shaft, and it makes your jaw tighten. She's all smirk and smoulder, eyes coming up to see what kind of face she's making you pull.

"Oops," she laughs.

"Fuck," Xinyu gasps, the loudest sound in the room. There's the slightest shift of Kazuha's shoulders, the way her back bows when her tongue drags from slit to clit; nose pushed up tight.

Xinyu, still leaning over the back of the couch, turns her gaze toward you, then, heavy, desperate, and dark: an intensity that hits right in the base of your stomach and twists like a dull knife.

Xinyu trades pleasured gasps for a coy remark. "Look at her go. Eats pussy like she'll starve to death without it." It's like she needs to comment on it, all casual, as if there weren't someone between her legs, making her thighs tense.

Yunjin pulls back just long enough to say, "Tell me about it." Then she goes deep enough that you see your cock hit the back of her throat. No warning. You cough out an obscenity. It's good, and it's better because of what you're looking at.

"Yeah?" Xinyu says. "Be pretty easy to cum like this, you know?" The implication hangs in the air, unaddressed.

Just like Yunjin before you, you agree. "Tell me about it."

Your girl, on the couch, her body twists again. Kazuha is making her work to keep the upper hand in all this, if there's such a thing, and she has to put conscious effort into keeping her words steady. Her focus is on you, on your face, on how your mouth opens every time Yunjin sinks her mouth to the hilt.

"Do you wanna cum like this?" Yunjin says to the underside of your dick, her hot breath against your length.

You look to Xinyu for a final answer: her head's back and her chin tilted high in a groan that fills the room, an arcing note in a rising song that starts between her thighs. Her hands grip the cushions.

"She's close," You say off-handedly. An easy observation. It doesn't answer her question.

"Could finish you so easily," Yunjin hums. You feel her words against the crown. She swirls her tongue, and you clench your fists.

"Faster than Kazuha?"

"Much faster." Yunjin grins like she's just thrown down a challenge. And you get why it works: competitive to a fault.

"No chance," Xinyu manages. There's sweat on the skin that shimmers with highlight, her chest heaving with every laboured breath, "absolutely—" Kazuha presses forward, and the rest comes out a curse. She grits out the words. "Impossible."

"Bet?" says Yunjin, her nails dug deep enough into your skin that it leaves little crescent moons.

Xinyu's head lifts. There's a smile on her face that's just shy of wicked, "I'd say winner takes all."

There are very few bets that Xinyu won't take and fewer stakes that she won't gamble with, but she's got confidence in Kazuha's ability, and time is a-ticking. Even with how wound up Yunjin's got you, watching them, it's still an even race at this point. Kazuha has a lot to prove: this is a test to see if her pretty lips and clever tongue can get her girl to the finish line faster than anyone else.

And, oh—she can taste it, can't she: Xinyu dripping wetness to her chin, her folds spread and cunt eager. The dancer's a performer of many skills: her fingers slide inside, her mouth locked in place and sucking hard until Xinyu is fucking her mouth with the back and forth of her hips. In a moment of indulgence, she presses Kazuha's face deeper, harder. It's rougher, meaner: she pushes her up tight enough that her air might just get cut off, if it weren't for the moans that slip from the singer's mouth. "God—" You think she says, and then nothing but sharp inhale and the jolt of her hips that has Kazuha's nails in the flesh of her inner thighs.

Yunjin's picking up the slack on you. Maybe to wipe the smirk from your girlfriend's face, or maybe she just really wants your cum down her throat. That's fine. You're not opposed.

Mouth briefly replaced by hand, strokes hard and tight, so she can talk and please. "Better cum in me soon. You'll lose." She winks. She's not wrong, and she sucks in her next breath like she knows it. That mouth on you again.

Let's be real. Let's not get it twisted. You win. You always win.

Xinyu will cum first. It's one of those facts in life. Death, taxes and Xinyu's climaxes.

It starts in her chest—a hitch that becomes a heavy rise and fall, a moan from deep in her throat. Her body follows it: every limb taut like strings in a bow. Tension: her head back to the sky and the arch in her back like a crescent. Her legs start to shake. It's there that you feel your blood thrumming, the adrenaline that starts that climb before your fall, and Yunjin takes her cue to speed things up on her end as Xinyu tumbles over on hers. Her thighs tense, tight, trembling.

"Oh—oh fuck—Kazuha." Xinyu moaning another woman's name always has a certain kind of kick to it, even more so with you down Yunjin's throat. She's never shy about this. Never timid. Always, unabashedly, the way it is with you and how she'll scream and cry for it, for the orgasm that wracks her like an electric current.

Kazuha has no interest in easing her down: the pads of her fingertips work her open, pumping inside, tongue flat to lap against the pulsing heat, riding her through each wave and crest, drawing them longer, higher. Xinyu's shaking with the overstimulation, hands in hair, but not pulling back.

"God. Fuck, Kazuha—" This time, there's the edge of desperation to it, so close to pleading for it to stop.

There's a moment when you lock your eyes. Xinyu looking through the strands of her dark hair that stick to her cheeks, and the sweat that glosses her forehead, the flush on her skin, her lipstick smeared in places. And that smile, her wicked grin in full bloom. Her breath coming in shallow heaving puffs. Kazuha is slowing. Stilling.

You've been teetering close to that razor's edge, the precipice of it, but there was only ever going to be one winner. Yunjin pulls her mouth from you and she has no idea just how close you were, just how cruel the denial, as she stands.

You say her name as a question: why would she ever fucking stop?

Her mouth to your ear, and you feel her smirking again, her teeth against the shell: "You lost," she murmurs.

"You lost," Xinyu echoes from across the room. She pushes Kazuha away, legs still unsteady, as she slides from the couch to her feet and straightens out the fabric of her dress. You watch as Kazuha touches the gloss of her lip and sucks it off her finger. Her smile is soft and warm when she gets to her feet. It's like a stage; everything posed: Xinyu and Kazuha, standing side-by-side and arms entwined.

"Second place," says Xinyu, looking you right in the eyes.

"I get it," you say. Your cock stands at full mast. "You don't need to remind me."

"Oh," she grins, leaning against the dancer, "I absolutely do." Her hand touches Kazuha's chin and lifts, kissing her deep, tongues dancing against one another's. When Xinyu's teeth drag along her bottom lip, you know she must be able to taste herself. "She's real good. Though I do wonder what her girlfriend is like," she whispers as she eyes Yunjin.

Kazuha speaks up. "She can definitely make a girl cum." She speaks with such nonchalance as if she's discussing the weather or what brand her shampoo is and not the way she's had Yunjin eating out of her cunt.

Kazuha is a professional; it's no surprise to hear she knows how to get a girl to see god, and it's no surprise that anyone she lays with has to be on top of their game. Xinyu knows, too. She grins, and she laughs, and she holds her waist like Kazuha's some sort of prize, and it's just so Xinyu, this display. "Lucky us." She touches a hand to the dancer's hip. She says to Yunjin, "We oughta try her out."

"You're going to leave him hanging?" says Yunjin, running a hand down your chest dangerously low before taking it back, a gentle press of lips on your jaw. "That's not very fair."

"He can help you out, right?" Xinyu offers, gesturing in your direction with one of those looks in her eyes. You know that one. "Make us cum." And her hand slips to the swell of Kazuha's breast, groping greedily. It's a demand that comes out as a suggestion.

Kazuha whispers something inaudible to Xinyu's ears and it must've been good because the woman hums, intrigued, the smile on her mouth turning wider and more mischievous by the second. They both take a step, both reach out, Kazuha takes your wrist and Xinyu takes Yunjin's. Wordlessly, they take you away from the kitchen and to the window: the massive wall of windows that line your apartment with the city behind.

"I want the world to see," Kazuha explains. "To wish they were you."

"Sounds a little cheesy," you quip.

"Sounds hot," Xinyu retorts as she places her hands on the glass. She bends forward so that the swell of her ass pushes out against the hem of her skirt, and against Yunjin, who is standing right behind her. "Don't you think, babe?" she teases Yunjin.

"Very," Yunjin says. She moves her fingers along the seams of Xinyu's body, finding their way underneath her top. You hear Xinyu breathe out through her mouth. Yunjin moves closer to Xinyu's ear and bites it. "But the only ones that'll actually get to touch you, to taste you... that'll be us, huh?" She moves her fingers along the waistband of her skirt.

Xinyu turns her head back at her, smiling. "They'll be able to see how well I can take it, too. You'll let them see, won't you?"

Kazuha perches in front of you, spreading her fingers out against the glass, lowering her shoulders, arching her spine and lifting her ass to the sky for your taking. In an instant, you're on your knees and appreciating her for everything she's worth. "You don't need to be a gentleman. Just go for it. You already had the courtesy earlier," she tells you as you move closer.

"Can't I take a moment to appreciate you first?" you reply.

"Do you have to?" Her laugh is half a moan, and she's pulling up her own dress. "Are you so infatuated by the sight of me? Because, believe me—" and her words are cut off as you sink your teeth into her cheeks, your fingertips pressing tight into the skin at her hip— "you've seen more than most get to."

You run a hand up the expanse of her thigh. "Savouring every moment," you hum into her skin.

"How romantic," she laughs. There are the smallest noises in the back of her throat that come with your touch as you caress her ass. Fingers into flesh, gentle pressure until you feel her roll against it. The perfect ass. The kind people would kill for.

You hear Xinyu gasp, the sharp breath: Yunjin's got her face pressed hard between Xinyu's spread thighs from behind. "Y'know—" your girl manages between moaning pants, "wasn't sure what to expect. This isn't how we usually do things." She's trying to hold the conversation together while Yunjin works to make a ruin of it. Xinyu braces herself against the glass. "Two girls at once is a pretty good score."

"I'd call it that," you hum in agreement as you pull Kazuha's delicate panties down her thighs.

"The two of you do this often?" Yunjin asks between licking Xinyu's dripping cunt and then slapping an ass cheek hard, enough to sting. It leaves an angry pink imprint on the flesh of her. Xinyu hisses, her fingers curling against the glass as she struggles to hold herself steady. Kazuha arches her spine to give you better access.

"See them all the time," Kazuha gently laughs, the breathiest moan breaking her sentence up, and she rocks herself back against you. "Taking someone home before my show even ends."

Xinyu's eyes open, and her vision is clear. She looks over her shoulder. Her hips are slow, riding the tongue that pushes deeper inside. Her voice is steady, and she's trying hard not to let Yunjin catch her completely, though the pressure on the glass betrays her. "Been keeping an eye on us, hm?"

You're dragging your tongue against Kazuha, circling around the wetness between her legs. You taste the sweet musk of her, and then you drag the flat of your tongue along the folds. She hums with a laugh that sounds a little breathier, more strained. Your tongue moves deeper, dipping into the parting of flesh, to taste the soft, velvet feel of her, the slick heat that comes with her arousal.

"You're not exactly subtle. Hard not to notice."

You push a little firmer, face into her ass, tasting the deepest parts of her and as she shifts on her knees, she lowers a hand to your hair and grabs a handful of it, keeping you where she needs you, fingers curled around the strands and the sting that follows. You hear the noise she makes, the way she shivers under your attention. It feels good.

"We have a fan," Xinyu jokes, but her laughter is cut off by a moan as Yunjin sucks harder on the soft folds between her legs. "Maybe two." There's the sound of skin hitting skin, and then a gasp. You know the sounds of Xinyu when her skin is slapped, or her flesh is bit.

Yunjin's hands roam her body freely. They're everywhere: touching, teasing. Her nails scratch and drag, and Xinyu groans when teeth meet her inner thigh again.

Kazuha is dripping against your chin now. Every lick sends another jolt up her spine, and every circle against her sensitive clit has her moaning. You squeeze her ass. She rocks forward. "Mhm..." Her lips part, and her jaw goes slack.

"What a pretty fucking mess," you hum against the wetness.

Xinyu takes Kazuha by the chin, pulling her into a kiss, and there's no way for anyone else to appreciate how beautiful they look against each other. Xinyu runs a hand up into Kazuha's hair, and her hips are still grinding, still pushing down onto Yunjin's mouth. "I'm gonna cum if she doesn't stop."

"Cum with me?" Kazuha says. It sounds desperate, almost needy in its demand: an urgency to share this. To do it together.

It doesn't sound like a bad idea at all.

"Not stopping," is the last thing Yunjin says as she continues to feast. You think she might have a point to prove, but if that means she wants to eat a pussy that good, then so be it. Your mouth works Kazuha faster: you spread the folds with your fingers and go to work on her clit. Your teeth catch the sensitive flesh, and she shakes with it, thighs threatening to tremble and tense, a strangled cry falling from her lips that she smothers by moaning it right into Xinyu's lips.

The taste of Kazuha on your tongue is something you'll never get tired of. Her sweet juice spills over, and when she arches, she cums harder, cries out louder until finally, her knees start to shake. That's how it starts, and with her orgasm comes Xinyu's too. There's a moment when the two are tangled together, when the sounds that fall out of them echo each other's. Their voices meet, their moans mix, and their tongues clash in their kiss, like they can't bear to keep any distance from one another. It's intimate, even amidst the other mouths on them. Even as Yunjin and you coax them through it. When it passes, the two cling onto each other, holding each other up, both of them trembling with the aftermath of a shared bliss.

Kazuha falls first: with a slow slump she sinks down to the floor, falling away from your hungry mouth and onto her hands and knees on the hardwood. She pants, heavy breaths, her head bowed, her hair in her eyes. There's a contented hum to the room as it all begins to settle down. Kazuha turns to you: there's that gorgeous smile, as she pushes back hair from her face. Her makeup is smudged. Her lipstick's a mess.

Xinyu follows after, but not without first stroking Yunjin's hair and kissing her, thanking her. Xinyu falls into Kazuha's embrace, the two of them holding each other up on the floor. Their heads are on one another's shoulders.

You lose your balance to a hard push. Your ass hitting the ground hard, sitting flat on the hardwood.

"Your turn." Yunjin grins, a hand pushing at the centre of your chest, keeping you from rising.

"You're going to do that right here?"

She grins at you. "Right now."

From here on out, it's just an inevitable, sordid decline into depravity. There is no message here, no moral, no meaning beyond the mindless, the reckless. There's nothing profound about the way Yunjin slips the other strap off her shoulder and pulls the material down to her waist to expose her braless chest. There's no wisdom in the way she moves into your lap, arms hooked over your shoulders.

No revelations come from how her bare pussy slides against the head of your cock. No matters of the world solved by the way you grope her tits in your palms. Nothing poetic about the sound that slips between her pretty red lips when you enter her cunt. This is just the way things are. This is barely a footnote on the night, not an epic climax. It's not a resolution or a denouement. Just another impending orgasm. You're just lucky you're at the centre of it all.

"Give us a show, won't you?" Xinyu murmurs.

Yunjin's got a smile on her lips that says, sure, sure, I can do that. She puts her hands on your chest, pinning you against the ground, her hips lifting and rolling as she slides you in and out of herself. "You think we should thank them? The people in the toilets?"

"Why's that?"

"Well, we'd have gone in there." Yunjin pushes her hips down hard onto you to punctuate her sentence. "We'd have fucked." She's taking control here: riding you in the centre of the hardwood floor. "You'd have cum." Another roll of the hips. "In me. On me." She gasps, moans. "That would have been that." It's all being said so nonchalantly. "But now, it's like this."

You laugh a little as you watch the woman ride you for all you're worth. "It's fitting," you say as you push yourself up from the floor, sitting face-to-face with the woman riding you. "Because you deserve so much more than a quickie on a dirty toilet." You wrap an arm around the small of her back. "And I'd much rather take my time with you." You buck your hips up into her, commandeering the rhythm as your pace starts to climb. You drive into her, pounding hard, as you bury your face between her breasts.

There are the smallest of noises that break free from Yunjin: the whines that get trapped behind her throat and the moans that slip between her teeth. She lets you handle her, and the only sound she makes is that soft whimpering and that sharp hiss when your fingers grip tight at her skin, and when her body slams down against your cock, you feel her tense and then shake around your shaft, squeezing and clamping down hard. She stifles her sounds.

"You good?" you whisper. She doesn't answer. At least, not at first. She gives herself a moment to catch her breath, as her nails drag across your shoulder blade.

She moans out a reply. "Oh yeah. So good. I'm so—" her words trail into a hiss of a breath.

You push her onto her back, pinning her to the ground as she laughs, arms above her head and eyes on yours, as you pick the pace back up again. "Show's still on," Xinyu says, somewhere on your peripheries.

"He fucks like a..." Kazuha whispers, unable to find the right words.

"I know," Xinyu laughs, before leaning in to kiss at Kazuha's jaw. "Doesn't he just?" The words are barely a whisper in her ear.

There's this shift in your periphery, Xinyu taking a place on the floor, her hand behind Kazuha's head as she spreads her legs again. It's rare you've found anyone who can keep up with Xinyu, but tonight's proven to be the exception. Kazuha's on all fours, leaning in for another taste. The sight has you groan.

Yunjin laughs at that, pulling your face back to hers, her legs wrapping around your hips, locking behind your back as she pulls you into her. "Don't get distracted now, honey," she says. Her fingertips trace along the muscles in your shoulders. Her lips curl up into a smile as her body shivers underneath yours, and you can feel it: that sweet clamping down of her pussy around your cock, and you know that she's close to coming again.

"Got an idea," you whisper.

"Wait, wait—" Yunjin claws at your back, holding you closer, tighter. "Just let me—" and you feel it. Her wet heat coating your length, pulsing. You roll her into it, feel the slick mess as her hips twist against the hardwood. She shakes, head thrown back, eyes fluttering shut, and lips parted. "There we go. Now, idea?"

"Come here." It's seamless, the way you move her around and behind Kazuha, positioning her face right against her girlfriend's ass. "Doesn't that look so good?"

"Beautiful," she says.

"Bet you eat that ass every chance you get, I know I would."

"Me too," Xinyu chimes.

"Yeah?" Yunjin says as she traces her hands along Kazuha's hips and curves, the lines that make her. She touches her thighs, and then she moves her fingertips to the cheeks of her ass. "Well." A kiss on the flesh of it. "You know. She does have such a pretty ass," she whispers.

"You both do," you reply as you mimic Yunjin's touches on her own ass.

She smiles into the skin, pressing more soft kisses along it. Her fingernails dig in gently as her mouth presses a little harder against it. Yunjin drags her nails over it, making marks. Yunjin moans softly, burying her mouth deeper between the cheeks. Kazuha arches with a moan of her own, rocking back. Yunjin sinks deeper, eating her girlfriend's ass like it was the last meal she'd have for days. The sounds are wet and hungry. Her moans are muffled as her mouth does its work. "God..." Yunjin groans into the flesh. Her hands roam up to Kazuha's sides, and she digs her fingers in and holds her, rocking the woman's hips against her face. It's like she can't get enough, and the taste must be so fucking intoxicating.

You're back inside Yunjin, the end of the train. She shivers again, moans again. Her nails drag up the small of Kazuha's back, marking the line of her spine with the gentle red trails. Her teeth scrape against Kazuha's skin, and she presses the pad of her tongue between her asscheeks again.

Yunjin's dress is still bunched at the waist, you bunch it and then hold it firm: it pulls tight across her toned stomach and gives you a handle, a grip to hold. You thrust into her, hard. She groans into Kazuha, and in turn, Kazuha gasps into Xinyu.

You hear Xinyu moaning, a note that arcs and echoes and then tapers off again. Kazuha is humming, soft and quiet, and Yunjin groans deeply. When the three of you all start to sync up, to fall into one steady beat, it feels right. It's everything falling together. Waves on the sand.

Xinyu is gasping; her head is back, and her throat is exposed, and her body is writhing with pleasure. She has her fingers buried in Kazuha's hair, clutching at it desperately, as she rocks back onto her tongue, onto her mouth, her hips bucking erratically. You're fucking Yunjin in slow and deep thrusts that have her moaning and shuddering, her fingers gripping hard into the dancer's thighs, and she's eating that ass with hunger, her own body responding to each motion of your hips in a ripple of a wave that runs up her spine, one after the next after the next.

This was never meant to last. There is no way.

You're on edge. Xinyu's on the precipice, and Kazuha is shaking.

There is no way, you say it again, and that's how your mind feels: unsteady, untethered, and it's in that haze that you slip your free hand to Yunjin's hip and guide it under her, have her press two fingers into the slickness that's so familiar, that she knows so well. You tell her. "Make your girlfriend cum." It's not an order. You've no authority here, in the mess that this has become, but she does, doesn't she: she's the only one who could get someone to sing for the world to see.

It's just seconds after when she slips the digits up inside that the woman is shaking, her back arching, and she's moaning in tandem with the way her hips roll back on you. Yunjin's fingers plunge deeper inside, and Kazuha shivers in delight. And then there's the smallest cry of a sound, and she's spilling wet onto the hand that keeps pushing her down. "You're so beautiful, Kazu," Yunjin murmurs, the words muffled by how she's buried her face between those cheeks, she's so damn close to her own climax. Kazuha is trembling, shaking. She moans out her release into Xinyu's wet cunt.

Thighs clamp hard on Kazuha's head. "Yes—" Xinyu cries out, as her hips rock upwards, bucking on Kazuha's mouth as she rides the orgasm hard, hands at her own breasts, groping greedily as her tongue drags her bottom lip under white, teeth bared: it's like a growl, almost, or a snarl, her eyes open wide, but staring right through everything.

And that's what pushes you over. You grab hard onto Yunjin's hip, the bunched fabric of her dress. Your fingernails drag against her flesh as you rut into her, hips thrusting again and again. She can't help the gasp, the sound, as your nails scrape deep into her thigh. She's so sensitive. The skin so soft and so receptive to touch. That noise turns into a moan. You know the sounds of her now. She doesn't need to tell you. You know. The pace of her breathing changes, and you hear the breathy little whimpers. When she gasps and when her cunt flutters, you can tell that she's close. And you know, when she cums because of the shuddering that runs up her body, the tensing of her muscles and that moaning that starts low and quiet before it grows, and then it explodes out of her in a sudden burst, like fireworks.

Xinyu's curling a finger. A beckon. You have a place to take, kneeling over her, and a finish that she demands.

"You know what to do, don't you?" she teases, a laugh on the tip of her tongue: that sharp and mischievous smirk, and the eyes that gleam in the light.

"I do."

She turns her gaze on the couple on the floor, the girls who've sunk onto one another. You can hear Yunjin laughing. Kazuha's fingers trail over her face, tracing the outline. "Go ahead," Xinyu says to you: not permission but expectation.

She presents her face as if it's a canvas and, yeah, sure, maybe you've done this more times than you can count, but you've still got your hand on your dick and the other on the back of Xinyu's neck, rubbing like it's the first time, and—

There it goes.

"God," Yunjin groans, "that's pretty."

Kazuha's contented hum agrees. They both reach a hand out to run their fingers across the mess of your cum, spreading it across the smooth expanse of skin, painting their art of Xinyu. There are no lines, no patterns, just the abstract swirl and the smearing that follows.

"Should take a photo," Kazuha suggests. "For posterity's sake."

"Too late," Yunjin mutters as she leans in to lick at the slick of white on the woman's cheek.

Soon, they're both at it, cleaning your girlfriend like she was the world's finest delicacy. And she basks in the attention. The centre of it. She's used to that kind of spotlight, though you don't think anyone shines as bright as her.

Yunjin takes a mouthful, opening to show the white on her tongue, and then her lips collide with Xinyu's. The cum is passed, tongue-to-tongue, a kiss shared. They share it with each other, a kiss that is truly sordid. You hear Kazuha's moan of excitement before you even realise what's happening: she joins in, making the kiss a trio. Three mouths passing your cum back and forth and the sound of their soft moans of delight.

It's hard to fathom that this is only the beginning. It's almost as difficult to comprehend just how far it's already gone, and the truth, as you see it, is that it doesn't need to make sense. Some nights are destined for excess. Nights like these. With a trio like this. You're not asking for any answers: all you're asking is that the four of you sink deeper, lose yourself to it.

The girls break the kiss, and Xinyu says, "You know, he has this walk-in shower. The big kind." You can hear the smirk in her tone like she knows just the kind of trouble she'll cause with her words.

"Yeah? I bet we could all fit in it," Kazuha hums, and there's that look of hers again, a little devious but mostly playful: a look of a girl who just wants to please everyone she comes into contact with. She can't seem to get enough, and she's just dying for a taste of more. Her hands slide along both women's waists, pulling them in a tighter embrace. Xinyu looks at you.

"You did always say—"

"I did."

"And, honestly, there's no better—"

"I know," you tell her, climbing to your feet and holding out a hand. "Come on."

[andromeda-collective]

i have multiple and im going to mention all of them but im starting with THIS FUCKER HERE (blade from honkai star rail) AND I HAVE A VERY STUPID REASON FOR IT

there was an minigame thing with a character named march 7th (dont ask) and there were little events you could encounter throughout it and one of them was that you had to choose between a red and blue pill (or the third option of giving a nonanswer) and since my choice didnt matter at all i went with the red pill because i know that the matrix is a transfem allegory and i also hc march as transfem but then another character made a little comment that blade would ALSO pick the red pill which completely makes sense for his character but since i was still on the transfem allegory mindset i had the thought of "wait does this make blade transfem??" so shes transfem to me now 👍

estrogen would NOT save her. not even REMOTELY. he's a suicidal immortal who physically cannot die because of a ritual his old friend-with-romantic-implications tried who he now wants dead more than anything else. hes basically possessed by evil plants that revive him every time he dies and he goes fucking feral. hes a mass murderer with a bounty of over 8 billion. nothing can save him. but transitioning might make her miserable life slightly more manageable? plus i mean.. throwing your old name away and being a new person? obviously a metaphor for being trans /j

boothill! this is slightly for shipping reasons (turning a het ship wlw for funzies) but mostly projecting my gender-nonconforming transness onto the only southern disabled character i know of. are we different kinds of southern? yes. are we different kinds of disabled? also yes. do i care? absolutely not. (also because butch southern women make the world go round)

also sampo because the idea that this fuck is a cisgender ANYTHING is laughable. this is a nonbinary transfem boymoding for shits and giggles who randomly switches to the girl voice when talking to someone JUST to fuck with them because nobody else would believe them and the person would think theyre losing it. typical masked fool stuff. gaslight gatekeep girlboss.

and then from genshin impact: zhongli. who has CANONICALLY used shapeshifting to become a woman. and has likely done so on more than one occasion. this guy is CANONICALLY GENDERFLUID WHETHER PEOPLE LIKE IT OR NOT. and you can obviously be genderfluid and transfem at the same time so why the hell not :D

most other characters i hc as transfem i dont have much of a reason for, but im gonna list them anyways cause hell yeah

argenti (hsr) - she can have a little estrogen as a treat

dr. ratio (hsr) - no reason i just think it could work

sunday (hsr) - something something religious-trauma-and-giving-into-what-you-once-believed-to-be-sinful

diluc (genshin) - fanfiction on ao3 changed my brain chemistry

kazuha (genshin) - also no reason i just think it fits

sebastian solace (a game on roblox called pressure) - im gonna be honest with you op, i just like putting this fucker in situations. and i would love to see the struggle of medically transitioning when you've been forcibly had your body and dna altered to the point of no longer being human. even ignoring for a few seconds the thought that maybe hrt wouldnt have the same effect (or any effect at all) due to the experiments, how could you will yourself to alter yourself medically in any way after the horrific trauma you've experienced? its between fucking with your already fucked up body or having the dysphoria kill you from the inside out. i am rotating her in my mind even harder now.

p.ai.nter (from same game) on the other hand? a lot simpler. make the ai with guns a girl. also just a funny idea: you know that "put eyelashes on it to make it obvious that its a girl" thing? yeah. painter doing that.

^ TELL ME SHE WOULDNT.

i would apologize for the essay but you did say i was legally required to share so this is your fault /lh

anyways i hope you enjoyed the women

If you see this post you’re legally required to tell me at least one trans woman headcanons you have for a canonically male character, I never get to see transfem headcanons like that, give me them, and for equality of my own please know estrogen could have saved Insector Haga and Dinosaur Ryuzaki I will not elaborate, also Yuya.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 11

Ch 12 is done and I'm kinda foaming at the mouth to give it to y'all- but I need to wait to finish ch 13-

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 11 >>next

Finding The Immortal was harder than expected but you weren’t surprised. Cecil worked The Guardians to the bone, you were sure. Nevertheless, you found him in the end, quickly flying next to him to greet him.

Surprised, the man looked at you before giving a small, weary smile while greeting you back. “This may sound crazy and like I’m digging into your life, and I understand if you don’t wish to speak about it, but I really need-“ You stopped as soon as he grabbed your shoulders, making you both stop midair and face each other. “It’s okay, take a breath.”

“See- that’s the thing! I don’t need to breathe, I don’t need to eat, I can’t die because I’m immortal like you due to magic and I need to talk to someone who gets it because this past week I feel everyone’s been acting crazy and it’s making me feel crazy- And- and I’ve lost you.” You looked at the shocked man. “You’re immortal?...”

“Yep.” You nod. “… Long story?” The Immortal asks slowly, getting the same response in return. His beeper goes off and without even looking at it he turns it off. “That may have been important.” You pointed it out, but he just chuckled and smiled. “This is important too. I’m sure the others can do well without me for a bit. Now, how about we talk over some food? I know this little family dinner in Las Vegas.” You relaxed, nodding at his suggestion.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“- and then he just tells me to be careful around certain magical weapons because they might hurt me- Like dude, you told me I’m immortal, taught me a bit of magic, and then dipped telling me to see him in a week at the same spot- he could have at least given me a way to contact him after telling me that something might kill me!” You sigh and take a bite of your burger and fries. “You were right, by the way, this is a great spot.”

Immortal chuckles at your complaint. “At least there is someone who is helping.” He furrowed his brows as he also ate bits of his steak. “Or is trying. I had a mental breakdown the first time I realized that I’m not aging and keep defying death.”

“Two days after I had a panic attack thinking about how everyone I love will eventually die, even Nolan and Mark- sure it’ll take a few centuries but that’s still nothing to immortality! The old bastard has been acting weird since I told them too, and Luthor keeps annoying me about his blasted party- which I’m like 90% sure is a front for my birthday- and today I’m supposed to meet the British bastard, but before I have to visit someone else-”

“Breathe, it’ll be fine, you’ll live.” The ancient man tried to reassure you with a small joke about the situation. “I can’t give much advice about this- your immortality seems very different from mine, and to be honest, I never actively think about it considering how sensible of a subject it is. Especially the ‘how many people will pass right by you’ topic. It’s…”

“Terrifying?” He sighs and nods at the completion. “It’s nice to know I’m not alone anymore, and that you thought I’d be the best person to talk about it with.” He plays with his food. “Therapists say that it’s good to talk about your feelings, right? I think it will be great for us both to talk openly about it- I don’t have a phone, but I do hang by the hero memorial stone every other Sunday- if, you know-“

“I’d love that, thank you Immortal…Abraham? Have you chosen a new name?” As your soft smile turned to a confused look the man only laughed, assuring you to call him whatever. Perhaps after that many years, names do lose their importance, or maybe it was the fact that he never had one when he was born in the Stone Age that could be translated to New World speech. “The honey pancakes are to die for, by the way.” His choice of words makes you snort with amusement.

“…You and Lex Luthor are friends?” He asks, a mix of confusion and surprise filling his tone. You just give a long sigh. “Friends is such a strong word…”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You waited patiently in front of the manor’s front entrance, smiling once the doors opened, immediately being greeted by the butler. “I’ll never hear you call me by my first name, will I Sanford?” You teased the older man as he led you through the halls. “I fear not, ma’am.” He smiled as he bowed, leaving you once you walked by him, getting closer to Samson.

You set the little box of treats on the accent table in between the two armchairs as you took your place across Samson while you both greeted each other. “How have you been? How’s that suit going?” Your soft-spoken questions are met with a defeated sigh and a shrug. “It’ll take two more days.”

“You know… You don’t need the suit or powers to do some good. Let me finish, please-” You quickly interrupted. These men were always so quick to jump the gun. “You’re rotting here. I’m not telling you to drop the suit but in these two days, you could go see the outside. It won’t kill you. There is this kid, Adam. He is staying at the hospital I volunteer at and he’s quite a big fan of Black Samson-“

“He’d be disappointed to see me-“ You swiftly but gently tapped his foot. “He’s one of the kids you saved when you lost your powers, Sam. He saw you lose your powers and still hold up kilograms of ruble just so he could have a chance at escape. That boy admires you now more than ever. You need to face things and it’ll be better for you if you do it before you feel like you’re worthy again just because you’ve got powers again.”

“That’s harsh, kid.” Samson almost pouted. “Learned from the best.” You shrug and he smiles. A moment of silence passes between you two before he finally asks where the hospital is.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

John was on his tenth cigarette, he was showing great restraint, really. He knew he made a mistake in asking Zatanna for help, but he seemed unable to do the opposite lately. They both had been arguing for an hour, Constantine knew that the girl would take to Zee like a cat to catnip, but this was making him regret letting Zatanna know more beyond a magical kid needs help. “I’m just saying- maybe Batman should know, she’s his kid-“

“The numpty has been locking her up in his mansion and ignoring her for years, her daft siblings too. The rogues had to raise and give her the attention Bruce wasn’t willing to.” He scratched at his chin before taking another puff.

“Maybe Bruce-“ John didn’t let her finish. “Don’t. Don’t you dare finish that, Zee. She’s just a kid- a kid who ran away because she thought Batman would kill her. Between the two of us, you should know better. You’re giving him too much grace.”

“Are you two mind reading or just mean mugging each other? Sorry for being late, by the way. Was finishing my project and lost track of time.” Your voice broke the two from their argument.  Zatanna looked at John with a raised eyebrow. “She doesn’t look like the little kid you described.” John clears his throat, brushing off the comment on his manipulation before he introduces the two. “I thought it would be good to expose you to different kinds of magic-“

“You’re ditching me.” John choked on his words as you crossed your arms, quickly denying the accusation. “- It’s just- I- Zatanna is a great Elemental mage, I thought you’d like to learn more about Umbrakinesis-“ Zatanna, at John’s rambling and pleading look, stepped forward. “It’s nice to finally meet you, John spoke highly of you.”

You gave her a gentle smile as you came closer and landed in front of her. “I doubt that, though, it’s nice to meet you too. Love your shows.” Your eyes moved to Constantine. “So, you two are going to teach me how to manipulate shadows? Can I learn the other elements and the mind-reading thingy you both were doing?”

“Telepathy, love.” John sighs as you give him a blank stare and double down. “Mind-reading thingy.” Zatanna chuckles softly at the look of pure defeat on John’s face.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Dinner was quiet. For the past week it’s been awkward, especially as Nolan kept missing dinners and breakfasts, and seemingly avoiding you and Mark specifically. “So… how has your day been?” Debbie asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Amber and I got together, like- for real. And I mostly dealt with small stuff today. Robberies, Elephant Man, three times, the sort… Did dad text or- call, at least?” Mark mumbles, tired and slightly sore. Debbie shook her head. “No, but I’m sure he’s fine.”

You shrug once all eyes are on you. “Talked to Immortal about- you know. Also trained my magic some more and found out some elemental magic just hates me. Water tried to drown me…” You glared at the glass as you spoke, getting up with a groan after you finished half of the food. “My everything hurts. I’ll go sleep, thanks for the meal mama.”

“Aren’t you going to wait for dad?” Debbie asks softly, trying to hide her worry. You just shake your head and take your plate to trash the remains and put it in the sink. “Nah. He wants to act like the sperm donor, he’s going to get treated as such. Besides, gotta check up with my friends in Gotham. Good night.” You waved her off, not noticing Mark’s brows furrowing.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

While Hal was gaging as he encased the mangled body of The Joker, calling for the Watchtower to notify Batman that Joker had been found, Red Hood and the Sirens were celebrating, well- Jason and Harley were.

“Batman is going to be angry.” Pamela sighs in her wine glass. “Batman? Angry? Why, he’d never.” Selina joked, laughing before sipping on her own wine glass. “He’ll bust a vein when he finds out it was our little hero who did it.” Selina’s eyes catch Jason’s figure as he tries to climb onto her coffee table. “Wait- No! It’s-“ She and Pam cringe as the table wrecks to the side, the man’s body making a loud thud as he kisses the ground.

“Broken.” Catwoman sighs. “You good kid?” Ivy asks, almost being drowned by Harley's hysterical laughing. “I’m amazing! Best day of my life!” He slurs, giving two thumbs up before dropping his hands and groaning. “B-man is going to be so mad.”

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou

[grimmweepers]

— ★ 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: after waiting for so long, alhaitham finally loses his virginity to you on his birthday

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: VIRGIN!alhaitham x FEM!reader, established relationship, there is some fluff sprinkled onto all this smut i promise, p0rn with plot, virginity loss (m), slightly more experienced reader, pet names ‘baby’ ‘love’, reader wears a skirt & dress, handjob, masturbation (f), deepthroat, rough fucking, no protection, creampie, cowgirl, might be a little ooc. 5.7k wc (idk what happened) MDNI. 18+ only. | masterlist

𝐚/𝐧: a birthday piece! happy birthday alhaitham! 🎁

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Your boyfriend was a virgin.

And for most people, virginity was often a touchy subject. Still, when you started dating Alhaitham, you weren’t surprised by his indifference towards the topic. He never danced around it or became flustered when the subject of sex came up. During your first conversation about it, he didn’t fidget, didn’t sugarcoat, he simply took a sip of his coffee and stated, “I’ve never had sex before.” Then after finishing his cup, he added, “Not for lack of opportunity. I just never prioritised it.”

There was no shame or awkwardness, just a fact laid bare between you. And, really, why would there be?

Sex wasn’t something he’d avoided out of fear or insecurity. To him, it was nothing but a passing thought. 

At the time, you grazed over his humble boast because, of course, Alhaitham had opportunities. He was, by all objective measures, incredibly handsome and you told him this very often as his girlfriend.

The scribe might’ve been notorious for being difficult to converse with but people were still drawn to his appearance, whether he wanted them to be or not. 

That conversation weighed more to you now. Not because of what he said but because of what it implied. Despite the passing interest others had in him and the potential experiences he could have had, he had waited. Not intentionally nor with some frivolous romantic ideal in mind, but simply because no one before you had ever made him want to.

As your relationship progressed, you discovered that contrary to popular belief, Alhaitham was still human (really, it’s a shock to some) and like any other human, he had needs that were managed with usual discretion (his hands). So while he had no qualms admitting he was a virgin, he also never pretended to be entirely unaffected by the curse of morning wood or the challenge of dating someone who was totally his type and much more vivacious than he. 

But when you turned him on (which wasn’t difficult), no matter how heated things got, they never went past a certain point. It wasn’t hesitation on his part, nor was it uncertainty on yours. 

It might’ve been because he’d never done it before, or maybe because it felt too significant to rush into. Either way, whenever things teetered on the edge of no return, one of you would always pull back. Every time it happened, it left you a little more restless than before.

It had started slow, as most things did.

Your first kiss with Alhaitham had been more curious than anything else. He always paid attention to detail so he was careful in how he studied you. The more he kissed you, the more he adjusted to the newness of it. You could even taste the hesitance on him but that had been months ago. Now, he’d memorise the way the shape of your lips fit against his, and kissing him felt as natural as breathing.

In the beginning, your make-out sessions had been tame. Nothing more than lazy, unhurried exchanges between reading breaks or in the fleeting moments before you parted from him. Uncaring for any responsibility he had prior, he would hold you close in his burly arms and take you in.

However, in time, those kisses evolved into something you had to be broken apart from.

His hands had also grown bolder. They would slide up your sides, paw at the curve of your spine, and settle on your hips to pull you closer. He noted the way you reacted to him—the way you tossed your head back when his fingers mapped your sensitive skin, the way your grip made home in his hair when his tongue delved deeper.

And you learned things about him, too.

You learned that even though the Alhaitham you first met had an air of mystery to him, there was something far more desperate laying dormant beneath that imaginary veil… lest his control slip. If you sucked on his lower lip, a groan would softly erupt from his mouth. If you allowed him to bury his face into the crook of your neck, the love bites he’d give you would feel much more erotic.

Then his touches became scandalous over time. Alhaitham seemed to explore you more. 

He started to kiss—no, lick along your jaw, then down your neck, sucking lightly at your pulse just to hear your breath stuttering. His hands, no longer satisfied with resting at your waist, began to push under your shirt time and time again, ghosting over your ribs, tracing the dip of your back, just to gauge a reaction to his touch.

Your body continued to hum with need long after you had settled on opposite sides of the sofa, swollen lips and skin warm.

Each encounter left you both embarrassingly sticky by the end of it so you never bothered to admit you’d touched yourself to the thought of him long after he’d gone home. And neither did he.

An invisible string was about to snap, and the most recent time was the hardest to walk away from.

On that particular day, while you were nestled on his lap, Alhaitham had been kissing you with extra urgency—as if the taste of you wasn’t enough and every movement of your lips was drawing him into a slow-burning fire.

Each kiss was another spark, every touch a flicker of heat that spread and throbbed in the most wicked parts of you.

His hands traveled all over you, fingers that normally stayed at your ribs and waist started drifting lower so you sluggishly rolled your hips to match his rhythm, losing it at how hard he was growing beneath you. 

Maybe it was because you’d worn a skirt that day but you felt closer to him than ever. Having your legs sprawled across his lap and feeling what you assumed was the head of his cock prod your sweet spot made your body scream even more for him. So it didn’t help your case at all when he suddenly stilled his fingers under your skirt and gingerly kneaded the back of your clothed pussy. The touch was petal soft but enough to make you whine without permission.

“Holy shit,” your words came out in plumes. 

You half-expected it to escalate then but instead, he pulled away. A familiar pang settled in your chest. He didn’t do it out of regret—you knew that much, but all that racing intention now became idly slow. 

“I’m sorry,” he said a little too quickly, it almost sounded awkward but you were too busy trying to figure out what he was apologising for. It wasn’t like he’d done anything wrong. 

“For what exactly?” You asked.

Alhaitham took a moment to think. 

“For not having more restraint,” his glossy eyes searched you, uncertain of what he wanted. “That felt impulsive.” 

It was unintentional but you’d never seen him look so innocent. Or vulnerable. 

Tilting your head, you said with a chuckle, “If I’m ever caught complaining about my boyfriend not being able to keep his hands off me, alert the authorities because that’s not me.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” 

None of this was your fault either, of course. Stopping was as much of a crime to him as it was to you, but he quietly returned your laughter, and timidly squeezed your hips as if to ground himself. “I just don’t want this to be something that happened because we couldn’t control ourselves.” 

In other words, he wanted something planned. Maybe he had envisioned it unfolding differently.

Which was reasonable, you thought. It was his first time, not yours. And it wasn’t discouraging at all—that solid bulge pressing between your legs revealed enough about the effect you had on him. No part of him didn’t want to flip you over and fuck you senseless on that sofa but perhaps an impulsive make-out shouldn’t steer the wheel for something he held off for so long.

So despite how badly you wanted him, you stopped. You waited. You told yourself the anticipation was half the fun. “You’re right. You’re right. Must you always be right?”

“Just a gift bestowed from the Archon.” Sarcasm, even when all the blood that should’ve been in his head had rushed to his cock. He watched you sigh, “It seems you don’t agree?”

“Well if say I don’t, you could always ravish me until I do.” You smiled from ear to ear, satisfied when a pale shade of pink immediately dusted his cheeks.  

“Stop that.” 

Alhiatham was thankful when you rolled off his lap and collapsed beside him with a buoyant giggle.

Even then, he already missed the weight of you on his groin and the phantom tingle from when he allowed himself to touch you over your underwear was still fresh on his fingers. He didn’t dare look at you right away, afraid that one glance at your pretty face, kiss-swollen lips, and the tremble in your thighs would set his skin alight all over again.

— — —

Remnants of Alhaitham’s birthday were scattered around your home. Half-finished slices of cake on abandoned plates. Few too many empty glasses littering the coffee table. The lingering scent of candles recently blown out.

Looking at the mess, you felt a wave of gratitude that the last batch of your friends had already come and gone. 

Honestly, it was a good thing he chose to celebrate at your place. If he’d done it at his, there would’ve been an inevitable crowd, and he and Kaveh would’ve probably found themselves locked in some debate over something trivial like the spelling of a single word. The only thing to break it up would be the arrival of dawn.

Here, it was just the two of you. While you’d both enjoyed the company earlier, ending the night like this felt right.

As the street lamps outside flickered on to welcome the evening, Alhaitham lounged beside you. This was the most relaxed he’d looked all day, with one arm draped lazily over the back of the sofa, and the other resting on his thigh with a new tome balanced loosely between his fingers. The dim light softened the sharp lines of his face, making him appear boyish as his sea-green eyes read the pages.

But he wasn’t really reading.

It was obvious by how his eyes were fixed on the same spot. His pupils were slightly dilated and maybe he had the wine to blame. Or something else altogether. 

You finally broke the silence, leaning on the armrest to reach for your own glass. “It’s still your birthday, you know?”

Alhaitham returned his attention to you, closing the tome you bought for him without marking his place. “Is there a statute of limitations on celebrating?” 

Huffing a laugh, “Not exactly,” you said, swirling the wine in your glass before taking a sip. “But I’ve been thinking about your birthday gift.”

“Hm?” He replied, slightly confused. He’d thought you’d already given him everything earlier in the day.

“Just wondering if there’s anything else you might want,” you set your glass down and watched the dark liquid ripple. This was the perfect opportunity to bring up what had been on both of your minds.

“Oh?” He blinked at you. “Well, this book you sought was quite a rare find, I’m aware there are only two other copies. For that alone, I needn’t ask for more.” 

“And if I told you that was only the appetiser?” 

Alhaitham adamantly shook his head, “I’m not following.” 

But you both knew that was false. The entire conversation was laced with implications and this was a Haravatat genius you were speaking to. Nothing needed to be spelled out for him because you saw his throat bob with a subtle swallow. That alone told you he was already waging war with his thoughts. 

Tonight felt different. 

Aside from it being his literal birthday, ever since the morning you’d caught him eyeing your body on numerous counts. 

One instance was when you conveniently sat across from him while your friends mingled, positioned so perfectly that he could see the triangle of underwear between your legs. It left little to the imagination and when images flashed of him running his sticky tongue over your panties—he bit the inside of his cheeks in shame. 

Another time was not too long ago when you adjusted the strap of your dress—he was sitting where he was now and you had noticed his fixation on the exposed skin of your shoulder. When the flimsy strap irritatingly fell again, you pretended not to see him shifting his shorts by the crotch. 

Something other than enticement was festering behind his gaze. It wasn’t out-right staring but you had an inkling you were being carefully watched. 

Maybe assessed was the better word. 

There was only so much pretend-reading he could do before it became obvious that your boyfriend was undressing you in his mind and using his tome as a silly cover. All of that told you he was ready. 

He just needed a little nudge. A precious courtesy. 

“Haitham, you’ve been thinking about it. Haven’t you?” 

Alhaitham’s lips parted like he was about to deny it. But he didn’t. He wasn’t even sure he could. Between a sigh and a too-long pause, you were surprised when he admitted, “Of course I have. I’m not immune to… well, you.” 

An intentional smile formed at the drop of that last word and your cheeks immediately grew hot. “You look beautiful,” he continued, but then his tone dipped into something far more audacious. “I might be convinced you were trying to steal my thunder today.” 

The sincerity behind his delivery of it made your heart pound like a drumline beneath your ribs. 

When you dared slip your hand to his knee, his muscles reflexively twitched. He didn’t try to stop you as you slowly traced the outline of his leg. 

“That honesty is going to get you in a lot of trouble, birthday boy.”  

“Trouble?” He said with a knowing smirk. “I think I’m already in enough trouble for tonight, don’t you?” You let him take your wrist to his mouth and he suckled above your pulse, soft and slow.

Goosebumps danced across your arm before you stood up.

Alhaitham tracked every step you made and his burning hands instinctively moved to your waist when you stopped between his legs. As you leaned down, he almost shut his eyes, expecting a kiss. “What do you mean? I’m terribly innocent.”

The heat of his touch seared through your dress and you didn’t falter when he started bunching up the fabric. 

Alhaitham, he was different. 

Unlike the temporary touches of almost-lovers, every place his hands explored left a trail of fire in their wake. He always held you like the space between you was something he could not tolerate. Everything had to be met. Tongue. Hands. Body. Mind. 

Alhaitham loved you. Deeply. Utterly. In ways that contradicted his nature. It was neither measured nor composed, only barbaric and all-encompassing. 

And credit must be due to you for being the most patient person in the world.

“So,” you said quietly, brushing away those unruly greys that tickled his forehead. “Do you feel like this time is rushed?”

His long fingers tightened around you, answering your question before he spoke. Whatever hesitation he felt had apparently already passed. “No, this is perfect.” 

As he looked up at you through those curtain of long lashes, an indulgent question had accidentally slipped out of your mouth: “How often do you picture yourself having your way with me?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. Clearly defeated by your feathery voice, he exhaled through his nose, almost jaded, “Constantly."

For some reason, you were still caught by surprise. Even if it lasted for a sliver of a second, when his admiration for you was too good to be true, sometimes you thought it all a farce. But you were wrong.

"In fact, I’m thinking about it right now," he continued.

Without needing any more reassurance than that, you closed the distance. “Do you mind?” You asked over his lips. 

“Not at all,” he said like he was granting you a wish. 

One tender kiss bled into another, then another, until his tongue started rolling over yours, swallowing your gasps in between. Then it turned into something wet and visceral. Your body wilted each time they collided but when his teeth sunk into your bottom lip, a riot of sensations gathered between your thighs. 

Fuck, you swore internally. 

Alhaitham may be a virgin but he sure didn’t kiss like one.

Still standing, you snaked your arms around his neck and combed at the ends of his hair. No matter how often you’d done this, the sound of his grunts always drowned out the rest of the world. 

Your lips broke apart for only a moment when you were forced to find air. There were too many annoying layers between the two of you so the cycle of kissing and never crossing that line was forever broken when you pulled on his shirt, “Take this off.” 

Letting you go, even for a second, was unbearable so when he lifted his arms to rid himself of the barrier, he greedily chased another kiss. The fabric dragged over his torso, revealing inch by inch of warm, silky skin stretched taut over muscle, and as soon as the shirt was gone, you traced the broad plane of his chest. 

From this view, you wonder if he was thinking about how many times he had imagined this moment. How many nights he had stared at the ceiling, picturing your hands on him just like this? 

“Nervous?” You asked, following your palm over the firm ridges of his abdomen as you connected lips again, pecking them softly this time like a butterfly kissing the edge of a blooming flower.

“Impossible,” Alhaitham relaxed his shoulders and pulled blindly at your waist. You looked so pretty—if anything, he was excited to fuck you. “I’m in good hands.”

Your lips trailed downward, over his jaw, his throat, ghosting his uncharted collarbones before moving even lower. Cushions collapsed to the floor as he began to fray beneath you, his body keening toward your open-mouth kisses no matter how much he tried to hold himself together.

“Baby—” he rasped. Your knees wobbled at his sweet call. The quietest groan escaped his mouth and you felt it reverberate against your lips where they hovered just above his navel. His scent was richer here—clean but muskier, and engulfing your senses to the point of dizziness. 

Sinking to your knees, your tongue followed the dark path of hair that disappeared beneath his shorts while your hands nimbly pushed at his growing tent, “—Fuck,” he sighed, screwing his eyes shut.  It pulsed involuntarily against the restraint and already, a bead of sweat rolled down his temple. Your heart was racing, the size of it felt even bigger in your hand. 

You toyed at the waistband, “Haitham, tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

He nodded, slumping back into the sofa. Sure, but he doesn’t think he will. His lack of words made you wonder if he’d actually heard you. 

You palmed his bulge one last time before pulling everything down and immediately, his cock sprung against his stomach, giving it a good slapping sound while you ogled at the sheer size. And weight. 

It was so much prettier than you’d imagine—not too veiny, plump and pink at the tip, slightly curved, and already glistening with precum under the hues of evening light. A handful of beauty marks dotted the underside of his shaft which would only help you out in the future when you had to decide which parts of him you wanted to kiss first. It might’ve been the prettiest thing you’d ever seen. 

Rubbing your thumb over the tip, you peered up at him, and as expected, “Oh…” he rolled his eyes back, lulling himself in the immediate pleasure. At that moment, he knew fucking his fist in the dead of night would never feel the same again. Not when they can be hugged by your soft, velvety hands.

Alhaitham’s body jittered under you with each small stroke along his length. Another fat ball of precum dribbled over your knuckles and made it extra slippery—he was so hard, he could barely look at you through his drowsy eyes. 

“Do you like how this feels, baby?”

His feelings wavered between bucking for more friction or letting you dictate his ruin. “I- ah- love it. Keep going… Please…” Either way, by the time this was over, Alhaitham was going to walk away a new man. 

His cock was so heavy, so wide in your hand that you briefly imagined it training your hole open. You desperately clenched around nothing—suddenly it was your to feel needy and as a result, your strokes became even faster as you thought about him stuffing you with it instead. 

Each languid pump chipped away at his resolve but it was you who was beginning to lose control. Your free hand couldn’t hold still for any longer so they snaked to the throbbing heat that had been building between your legs for too long. The first roll of circles over your clit sent a sharp jolt up your spine. “Mmmm,” you were already so wet, your slick drenched your fingers within seconds.

Alhaitham's thighs twitched at the sound of you. That was a moan. A real fucking moan. A multitude of things could turn him on but watching his girlfriend play with herself and moaning above his cock made him spasm in his spot. He was begging for more, even if he couldn’t form the words. 

“Ahh, Haitham…” you mewled his name softly as you slid two fingers inside your sopping entrance. Without waiting any longer, you spat on the leaking tip as a courtesy warning before taking the entire length in your mouth all at once.

“God…” Alhaitham groaned, drawn out like the sensation alone could tear him apart. He could’ve jumped out of his seat if not for the vice grip he had on the sofa, his knuckles white from holding onto it like a lifeline. The inside of your mouth was so warm, your tongue so blissfully foreign and you felt him stiffen up even more when you sloppily sucked and popped off with a messy slurp. 

“This definitely... isn't your first time,” His voice was rough with lust.

Every tantalising lick was written off as proof of your experience.  

The praise, while indirect, made your cunt clamp around your moving fingers. You hummed, dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock before pulling back with another lewd pop, “No,” you casually admitted, licking a stray tear of precum from your lips. “But it’s my first time taking something so big.” 

“No need to flatter me,” he murmured softly, lifting your dripping chin with a single finger, “You’re already doing enough.”  

But damn, he thought. If that were true, he’d stretch you further than anyone else.

After returning your lips around him, he unexpectedly brought his hand to the back of your head. 

This time, he didn’t want to sit back. “Slowly…” he sucked in a breath. “I… want to try something.” 

Alhaitham apparently grew some confidence of his own which made your fingers work even faster inside yourself. Your lips sank lower and lower. Throat tightening as his thick cock tunneled its way through—

“Mmph—!!” Your sudden yelp was muffled when his mushroom tip nudged the back of your throat. The vibration of it made him buckle his knees beside you. 

Oh, he was weak for you. And he knew it. 

“Ugh— Look at you…” he groaned through gritted teeth. Still, despite the newfound confidence, he was losing the battle fast. He had buckled so hard, he was worried he’d already cum but he was relieved when you gagged and withdrew, leaving only strings of saliva connecting to his fat length. 

That was enough to tell him he couldn’t hold it off anymore. 

Alhaitham could barely think straight. His cock was twitching, aching, still glossy from your mouth, and somehow standing taller than when all of this started. 

“Come here,” he pleaded and now his heart pounded because it was finally happening. 

His eyes were hazy when he hoisted you up, catching you in his lap to taste himself on your tongue. The kiss was feral and teeth-clashing and the curl of your name kept being whispered again and again between breaths. 

His hands wasted no time, sliding down your body, comfortably hiking up your dress while he met his cock with your entrance. Even with your underwear in the way, you felt just how girthy he was and squeezed around the head as much as your flimsy panties allowed. 

“Haitham~” you whimpered, continuing to grind on him. 

Between his own rolling of his hips, he eagerly helped you tug your dress over your head. Then you hurriedly removed your underwear and returned to his lap.

For a brief moment, he just stared. 

His jaw went slack. His chest rose and fell slowly. 

It was a showcase of your bare body, your soft tummy, your sweat-stricken tits, and your exposed pussy. 

Suddenly, you felt shy, but he reached out with surprising gentleness, smoothing his palm over your waist, then up to your chest. 

“I know I keep repeating myself but seriously,” he hushed, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, making you shiver. “You’re beautiful.” 

He looked at you like you were something divine and overcome, your lips crashed against his.

A guttural sound escaped his throat as he kissed you back with just as much hunger.

 “I love you,” you whispered to him. Another twist of your tongue. I love you. Another hand tangled in his hair. I love you. Another peek at your loving boyfriend, eyes shut and kissing you so tenderly like it’s the only thing he knew. I love you. 

His hand slipped between your legs, fingers parting the opening where you were dripping for him. If you hadn’t known him at all, you would’ve never guessed this was his first time. Perhaps preparing for this really paid off in the end. 

Your legs trembled around his hand, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. The need clawed at you.

His hand gripped your putty thighs, forcing them open as he stared at the pretty mess. 

Alhaitham flicked his gaze back to yours, “I love you, too,” his voice was hoarse. “And I need to be inside you.” It was then you understood why puppy eyes worked on people. No argument could ever shield him away when he pleaded for you like that. It would be like kicking a puppy in the most literal sense.

You gave him a nod of approval. It’s okay. 

He exhaled as he positioned himself. The downright weight of it jerking against your clit made you whimper. You couldn’t help but rock into it, circling his shaft with your juices while he was on the cusp of shattering. 

Finally, he lined the swollen head at your entrance and a sharp gasp left you as he slowly pushed in, stretching you apart like all those times you fantasised in the privacy of your bedroom but this was much, much better. 

Inch by inch, your walls latched onto him and—

“Shit—” Alhaitham cursed under his breath. 

Nothing has ever felt so warm or soft. Or all-consuming. His entire vision was a blur. There was no doubt he was already painting a clear, sticky mess on your walls. 

Your nails sank into his meaty arms, his name tumbled from your lips as he gradually slotted himself completely inside you. His groan was so deep and wrecked, that it made you tremble around him even more. 

Your legs tightened at his side, urging him deeper. “T-Thoughts?” You asked, barely. It remained a mystery how you stayed teasing even as pleasure threatened to steal your words away. 

“You’re so… tight,” he managed to breathe, thrusting up experimentally. His head dropped to your shoulder as he relished in the wet heat of you wrapped around him. “Better than my hands."

"Better than I ever imagined, actually." A strained chuckle left him, “And I imagined a lot.” 

Another slow thrust. His fingers embedded themselves around your waist, possessive, obsessive, and he buried his face in your neck, breathing you in.

You smiled even though you knew he couldn’t see, “You don’t have to hold back.” 

Your cute encouragement made him snap.

He lifted you slightly before slamming you down on his hips, plunging as far as he could. Right as he did, you arched your back and struggled to find your bearings. The sound of your jutted cries echoed freely in the living room, only for it to be swallowed by his muttering against your skin—

“You’re perfect.” 

A deep thrust, much harder this time. 

“I can’t believe you’re mine.” 

His teeth scraped against your neck. 

And then he really started fucking you. 

Every bounce punctured all the right spots and you could only whine while rivers of sweat glued your bodies together. You tried to keep up with him but he was so fervent with his hips, your mind went cloudy. 

More often than not, you tend to forget how strong your boyfriend was but you’ll never need a reminder after this. Not with how easily his large hands guided you up and down his throbbing cock. You were helpless against the feverish way he moved you. 

Plap. Plap. Plap. Each wet slap of your fleshy ass against his thighs sent a violent shudder through him, decorating his skin with flushed, red marks where you landed. 

Who knew Alhaitham could be so obscene and filthy?

“I can see why—people—enjoy this,” was all he could muster you as deliciously gripped him. Every word punched out of him from the force of your tight cunt. 

However, as good as it felt, most of his enjoyment came from looking at you. 

“Mhm…!” you babbled, brain foggy and hands abandoning his shoulders to roll your sensitive nipples between your fingers, twisting and tugging and arching your back so your tits were right in his face. “But are you—?” You tried to ask between ragged moans but he cut you off with a snap of his hips.

He’d never seen you in such a messy state, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He was nearly offended at the implication that he wasn’t. How could he not be? He was buried to the hilt and drinking in every filthy little sound that spilled from your lips.

He wanted to engrave the image of this memory into his mind forever.

The creak of the sofa legs as they scraped back and forth on your floor; the squelch of your soaking pussy; your arousal smearing the base of his shaft, running down his legs with every feverish roll. 

Even like this, even while he was losing every last shred of innocence, his mind was already latching onto something else—

“I’m already looking forward to doing this again…” 

Alhaitham, who fucking loved you, was also going to love fucking you. 

Oh, and the toe-curling sensation of his balls smacking the back of your pussy intensified. 

For each erratic push, your battered clit rubbed even more against his pubic bone. Your eyes were starting to drop and your voice only came in erotic moans. “Baby, please…” You’ve adjusted to the stretch by now but you’ll never get used to how you can feel every curve or ridge mind-meltingly dragging inside you. “Don’t stop—”

He wishes he could just record the way you coo at him like that, because your honeyed tone damn near made him bust on the spot. 

“F-Fuckk-Ngh… Love, I’m close,” he groaned, forehead falling against yours as his hips stuttered. His hungry, feral eyes—wild, desperate, blown back with lust, searched yours, now certain of what he wanted.

“Inside,” you panted, cradling the back of his head with your arms. “I bought a contraceptive tonic… You can cum inside.” 

Alhaitham froze, for just a second. 

But with your permission, he lost whatever fragile thread of control he had left. Using the last of his strength, he clumsily wrapped himself around your waist and attacked your g-spot over and over. 

“Quickly,” you urged him, “Because I’m gonna—!” A feeling in your stomach coiled before you could finish your sentence. With his hips rolling at an angle, everything you were holding together finally broke apart. Your ears abruptly rang and your vision went entirely white, as if months’ worth of pent-up energy was gushing out of you.

You pushed through the untangling in your gut, feeling everything all at once as your orgasm obliterated your senses. The downpour left you mewling, writhing, and spasming around him like a tightening knot. You've cummed to the thought of him but you always felt like something was missing.

Nothing but desperate moaning and the crying of his name met his ears while you blissfully rode him out.

A harsh thrust later did it for him, too.

His merciless rhythm shattered as he rutted inside one last time, a guttural groan ripping from his throat like all the air was being punched from his lungs. “Hah—I’m cumming!” His cock pulsed violently as he came, hot ropes of ivory spilling deep inside you, with him losing focus after each shudder of his hips. 

So much of it was already oozing out of you despite how tight you still were and you saw the ruin it brought on him. He was beautiful with his brows pinched tight and strands of damp silver sticking to his forehead. Every flex of his toned arms and chest showcased the primal strength beneath his elegance.

Alhaitham whimpered—it was barely audible as slumped against your chest. He clung to you, panting, hot breath fanning your shoulder as he pumped out the last tremors of his release. His balls tightened for the final time as they emptied inside you.

Neither of you moved. Just sticky heat, layers upon layers of sweat, and the aftershocks pulsing through your trembling bodies.

Then, slowly, his hands fell to his sides.

“…That was…” he started, feeling like his mind was still trying to piece itself together. His body practically surrendered against the sofa.

You swiped a thumb over his jaw, smiling. “Yeah.”

A beat passed.

When Alhaitham lifted his head, blinking at you, completely softened by the afterglow, it hit you.

Your boyfriend wasn’t a virgin anymore.

© 2025 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform.

divider: @/adornedwithlight

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

Stan: YOU MAY BE OLDER THAN ME BY 15 minutes FORD BUT IF 15 MINUTES IS THE HILL YOU WANT TO DIE ON THEN YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE IS FIFTHTEEN MINTUES??? REHEATING HOTPOCKETS, DO YOU WANT TO BE A HOT POCKET FORD?!?

Ford: IF BEING A HOT POCKET WILL KEEPS YOU FROM WANDERING THE FOREST THEN YES STANLEY IM A “HOT POCKET”, FIFTHTEEN MINUTES IN THE GRAND OF SCHEME OF THINGS MEANS A LOT—

Stan: DAMMIT FORD, Why does this mean so much to you?!? We’re TWINS, it shouldn’t matter who’s older or younger because we were born on the same day! Why does you being be so much older matter to you? THIS JUST ANOTHER THING TO LORD OVER MY HEAD! Ohhh look at me I’m ford and Im smart and artistic and strong and older than you and there’s nothing the “Spare Stan” should do because he’s just SO stupid and—-

Ford: Stanley…

Stanley: No— Just…

*A silence hangs over them*

Ford: We’re….having another misunderstanding aren’t we? I didn’t think… *trying to recollect his words* I suppose you’re right that being 15 minutes older isn’t really much of an excuse….

Stan: That’s a first, you admitting I’m right? *Sighs* Also I’m a grown ass man, Ford.

Ford: I know that. Just…you’ve, always protected me when we were younger. And you’ve clearly have had a life full of hardships. Is it so wrong to prevent you from going through more? I can provide for you now, I can protect you now, MORE than I ever could back then. Is it so wrong to want you to be okay?

We’ve missed out so much of eachother’s lives.

I don’t want to lose you, or for you to get hurt and not tell anyone. You’ve suffered in silence for so long as a cat, who’s to sah you don’t do it with other things?

You’re used to throwing yourself so often into danger, that you don’t trust anyone to help you.

Stan: I appreciate the gesture, Pointdexer. But it makes me feel absolutely awful. Because I’m the one who’s supposed to be protecting you. I’m supposed to be the one who’s supporting you, not the other way around.

Ford: And why not?

Stan: Because, just because okay?!

(And that’s all the dialogue I got for now, please enjoy this 3 am ramble. Idk why I wrote this, but hopefully you’ve enjoyed)

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Its beautiful. Love misunderstanding brothers.

Ford just wants Stan to be safe and to be OK and that's harder to be with the cat thing, but Ford can do it better now also. He can protect and provide for Stan, and Stan doesn't have to put himself in danger! Ford can protect them himself!

Stan doesn't see it this way of course, just sees Ford being better than him, and him being useless. Now he can't even do the one thing he was good for, which was protect Ford, so why even be here! What's the point of him!

Just ugh. There's no right answer here. Just gotta talk it out and compromise somewhere.

[claggorluvrgurl]

Okay I keep thinking about it I definitely feel like early on in AU Claggor's mourning process and way of coping was just him becoming a crash out. Like I feel like he was full of anger. At the world and himself for being more passive and not sticking to his guns feeling like he should have argued more against doing that job. That maybe if he did Vi wouldn't have died. He definitely let those feelings fester inside him under the guise of trying to be strong for everyone else.

Like I imagine years before Vander really tried to get him to be more assertive. And now look what him not being assertive got him? His sister is dead and now everyone is looking at him. He got comfortable just being the right hand and following. And now he's suddenly a leader and full of worries because he's not sure if he's ever doing the right thing. Because he's a kid and now he's wondering where Vi learned to be so sure and know if she's doing things right. So now he's growing into a ball of anger and sadness and he's not sure who he can talk to. So the best outlet is to just take it out on anyone he gives him a reason .

But no doubt Vander who just lost one child is not gonna notice this self destructive behavior. He's already shaken from losing on kid . He'd be even more worried about losing Claggor . I imagine him pulling him aside to try to have a heart to heart. But the first few times nothing's getting through to him because all he's hearing is that he needs to be better. That he has to do better or he's gonna lose everything. And he internalizes a lot of his feelings putting up a brace face for his siblings. Probably going off alone to deal with people who made sly remarks that they'd hurt his family to deal with them .

The boiling point being when he gets hurt badly because he's still only one person and can't one V one a bunch a guys even if he's a big guy. He comes stumbling back home later that morning bloody and knocks something over because he doesn't have the strength to call for help.

The boy probably ends up on bed rest for weeks and has no choice but to open up. They aren't letting in leave till they know what's going on in that big brain. Because how does a calm collected and rational person start acting like this?? Why does he now think he needs to be like Vi .

Side note I feel like Claggor grew out his hair a lot during this period then cuts it shorter in the end signally the change in his state of mind.

I feel like his appearance changes as he gets worse mentally because he's taking care of himself less so his hair gets longer. But he probably cuts it more in the front so there's less hair in the front so.... Sadly mullet. My son unintentionally gives himself a mullet.

Not sure what his clothing style would look like some artist could brainstorm that if they wanna have fun

[darklinaforever]

He (Lestat) doesn't express an ounce of feeling for Claudia until she is literally dying. That feeling might be regret or guilt or shame, but we have no way of knowing based on what's on the screen that he *loved* her. Or maybe its the realization that his mistreatment of her led to the destruction of his marriage and her death.

Sorry... but... what ? 😅

So, some people see all of episode 4 of season 1 of IWTV as well as Lestat's behavior towards Claudia throughout 2x07 and 2x08... And are unable to find scenes that could indicate that Lestat express an ounce of feeling for Claudia ? Or Lestat would have affection / love for Claudia ? Really ? None ? Really nothing ?

Bad faith is visibly at its peak...

And like an anon said to me :

that's the whole point of iwtv ! Two parents grieving ! Louis and lestat both loving claudia and both losing her violently ! And that bonds them in grief in a way they can't share with anyone else but each other. They were a family.

And as I answered her :

Indeed, the goal of this story with Claudia is to show two grieving parents. It wouldn't make sense that Lestat never loved Claudia as a result. As Lestat tells Louis, he can't get Claudia out of his head, even after more than 70 years. He asks Louis if he has the same problem, and yes, Louis has the same problem. And Louis loved Claudia. And so Lestat loved Claudia. Only together can they succeed in grieving because they understand what the other feels. Once again, no point if Lestat hadn't loved Claudia. Why try to limit their relationship like this ?

To say that we have no way of knowing based on what's on the screen that he (Lestat) *loved* her (Claudia) is to be absolutely disingenuous.

Because you have lots of little touches which in the dialogues, gestures and actions who tend towards that (Lestat who loved Claudia), and it's even more obvious when you understand that what Claudia's story tells is the death of a child and the mourning by her parents. It would fall apart a bit without love from one of the two parents for the child...

Everything we have in the show will lead to Lestat's future statement about his relationship with Claudia, which should normally be true to the book from his point of view, namely that he loved her. Like the book about Louis, we couldn't be sure what Lestat felt about Claudia, it's the book about Lestat that will give us the answer. But believe me that nothing in the show could contradict that Lestat loved Claudia, on the contrary it is perfectly consistent with this idea, which is canon according to the book.

Once again, I don't even understand why this is a real debate. There is no debate on this subject, it should seem obvious. It would be like having a debate on the fact that Daniel & Armand will end up together. We all know it from the books, and we already have subtle clues through the show. It's not very complicated things to understand all that.

[divinedevourer]

Vanth turns to him with his upper body alone, his legs sprawling against the sheets, unfolded and laid toward the foot of the bed. The gaze on Sebastian is rapt and silent; his touch only deepens the vessel's attention, holding him spellbound. It is hard to fathom the love Sebastian describes, as it only ever came strung with risks and forfeits. Jonas had loved him profoundly, though not unfettered. In his eyes, to love him was to salvage him. It was reckless, selfless to the point of selfish sacrifice. Had he not left, he'd have slayed his most beloved with his very own hands. Could affection so careless be sincerely unconditional? Jonas would have died while himself left behind on earth, a killer, suffering the weight of the unthinkable alone. He had refused Jonas this fate and asked him to live; what did it cost but their bond? But Jonas, his soul? What did he lose but ultimately everything? Sebastian comes with no such burden. His devotion is neither fragile nor fleeting; he not only withstands Vanth's ruin but welcomes it. There is nothing to fix, nothing to save or die trying. He is perfect, just as he is. There is no casualty to staying unchanged. To Sebastian, it is his worth. And Vanth surrenders some hatred of the self for acceptance without penalty. His face twists with its rarity, and his body pushes forward onto his knees. Wordlessly, he's wound over Sebastian's shoulders in an instant, head tucked into the crook of his neck.

❝ Me too, ❞ Vanth murmurs insistently. In a small effort to get somehow closer, he buries himself deeper. ❝ You'll never have to question me, I—I'll always be devoted to you, more than anybody else. I promise! ❞

"No, far from it." He adjusts himself and hopes that Vanth would do the same and face him fully. When and if he does, Sebastian will run his fingers through the long hair that frames his face.

"My love for you will never be questioned," he starts. He looks at the way Vanth's hair glistens under the mildly lit room. Smells of lavender wafts from his hair and he inhales. His eyes memorize the shape of Vanth's eyebrows, the thick and longness of his eyelash, and the way his tired eyes still seem alive. To him, vanth was life.

"Because I would make sure you knew how much devotion I have for you. Not with just simple words alone like I love You, but by acts as well." He was a creature of action and not words.

Sebastian smiles, "you would never have to feel as if you had to question my devotion to you."

[miizuzu]

“How did??” You couldn't even finish your question. Your voice was caught in your throat.

“Come on, you really thought you could run from me? Even destiny brought us together. I was visiting my uncle and cousin when your packages arrived. I even helped you sign for them. Aren't I the best boyfriend?”

“Zenin, we broke up a long time ago.”

“Naoya. Also I never agreed to breaking up. Only allow you to have some time alone, and you dare to try and run from me.” 

He cages you in with both his arms next to your head, you've backed yourself along the wall and now you have nowhere to run. You were shivering in fear, couldn't help but get Flash back from the past.

Naoya Zenin was your first relationship. Right after moving to Tokyo, you transfered into his class. You were very friendly and active so you ended up with a lot of friends. Naoya was one of your closest friends, he helped you get used to your new life in Tokyo. You used to tell him about your friends from before you moved and he would enjoy listening to your stories. He would easily get jealous when other boys got your attention. It wasn't too bad at first but it gradually got worse. 

He asked you out on your 16th birthday, and you agreed. His family was rich, and they went away on vacation a lot, even throughout the school year. He was pretty smart in school, so the teachers didn't have much to say for him going away. He would be so nice whenever he comes back, but as soon as he realized there are guys close to you he would get mad. He would yell at you like it was your fault, you shouldn't be so friendly towards everyone. He would constantly make you choose between him and your friends, to a point you stopped talking to others just so he wouldn't be mad at you. 

He would never be there when you needed him, always away on vacation and when you called him while he's away, he would call you clingy and tell you to grow up. By the time you noticed how bad it was, it was already too late. All your friends had left you, you had no one else. 

You stayed with him, thinking you had no one else. You couldn't talk to anyone without him getting mad at you. On your 18th birthday, he asked for your virginity and you gave it to him, not because of love, but because of fear. Fear that you would lose the last person who matters to you. 

After taking your first time, everything went downhill. Nothing you do ever satisfies him. Even in bed, he would criticize you for every little thing. How you always make him use a condom and never let him finish inside you. Saying your moans sounds forced and you should keep quiet, or you just lay there like a dead fish. 

You finally had enough of him and said you needed time. He said fine and went on his family vacation. That's when you finally decided to run from him. You packed all your things and moved away, found another city and that's how you ended up here. 

You find that you could no longer talk to people normally if it is not work related, it felt awkward every time you tried talking to someone. Your only escape was your feline friends. 

You stood there, frozen in fear. You do not want to go back to those dark days, you managed to avoid him for 4 years, changing your phone number multiple times, only to be dragged back into his life. 

You were saved by your coworker who came looking for you when your break time was over. You got back to work, but you couldn't help your hands from shaking. Naoya never left, he tugged himself at the back of the sitting area, watching your every move. He would get frustrated when you help male customers. He tapped his foot loudly and got a lot of attention. Your coworkers were so close to asking your manager to send you home early just because they didn't want him to cause problems. 

You were trying to think of ways to get away, and as if it was right on que, Satoru walks in with a bouquet of flowers. Naoya eyed him down right away, Satoru didn't notice him, his attention was on you, and how he could see something was wrong. Satoru walked in front of you with a worried look.

“Y/N? Is everything ok? You don't look so good.” 

“......help me.” You whispered.

Satoru turned serious, he reached for your hand only to be yanked back by Naoya.

“What are you trying to do?” Naoya questions Satoru.

“None of your business.” Satoru calmly glares at Naoya.

“It is my business. I am her boyfriend.” Naoya smirks at Satoru.

Satoru looked at you and you shook your head. He knows it's not true. He has never even seen a single picture of them at your house. Never seen him or even heard you talk about having a boyfriend. 

“Well it doesn't seem that way, plus, we are currently dating.” Satoru grabs your hand over the counter. 

Naoya was about to punch Satoru when he was stopped by the store manager. She kicked him out for disturbing the other customers and her employee. Your coworkers actually stood by your side and tried to protect you from Naoya. That one girl feeling bad for not checking with you first before letting him in to see you. 

Your manager told you to take the rest of the day off, telling Satoru to get you home safely which he instantly agreed. The 2 of you took the back door to avoid Naoya, but not sure where you should go since he knows where you live. 

“We could go to my place? Only if you are comfortable with it. I could get you a hotel room if you like.” 

“Anywhere is fine. I just want to get out of here.”

Satoru nods and leads the way to one of his homes. He told you to go in front of him, keeping a safe distance between the 2 of you, wanting you to feel more relaxed. He told you where to go and you followed his instructions, arriving at the building of his penthouse. 

You didn't really speak during the whole way here, the only thing said was Satoru telling you directions. He got you settled down inside. He offered you some hot cocoa and sat you down on the couch. He then disappeared into his room, you didn't even have time to thank him. You were grateful for his help, you also appreciate him giving you space and not questioning you like others would. 

Even though you didn't want to talk, you do want some company, you are just not sure how you should ask, since things ended a bit awkward between you and Satoru. 

It was as if Satoru read your mind, he came out of his room, not as his human form, but his cat form. He slowly walked towards you, and when he saw you petting the couch next to you to invite him over, he quickly hopped onto the spot, nugging your forearm with his head. 

You pet his head gently and scratched his chin. “Thank you for helping me. I don't know what I would have done if you weren't there today.” 

You could hear him pur as you kept petting him. You suddenly remembered your friend while you were young. Almost as if the memories Naoya made you suppressed come rushing back. 

“You know, I used to have a best friend who was like you. He could also turn into a cat and would always comfort me when I'm down.” 

Satoru stiffens, before jumping off the couch and running back into his room. 

You were confused why he suddenly went away, you went after him but he locked himself in his room.

“Satoru? Are you ok? Did I say something wrong?”

“......” No answer.

“Hey… you're worrying me now. What happened?”

“So you really don't remember me…” he pouts as he swings the door open, he's turned back into human form, well not completely. His ears and tail were still showing, he got a towel and wrapped his lower body so you wouldn't see him naked.

That's when it finally struck you. His hair and eye color, merging with the memory of your best friend from the past. Finally remembering him. 

“So… you were him all along…”

“Mmhmm…”

“Wait, so you knew it was me?”

“Mmhmm.”

“How? I couldn't even remember after everything that's happened.” 

“You've never once left my mind. I promised that I would be your cat, I have every intention to keep my promise to always be with you.”

You could feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes. After his whole heartedly confession you hugged him in your arms tightly. 

“I'm sorry, Satoru! I'm so sorry for forgetting about you! So much had happened. I'm sorry!” 

You started bawling, Satoru held you tight in his embrace. You felt safe, everything felt right. This is where you belong.

He lets you go when you finally calmed down. He excused himself to put on some clothes as he got you to wait in the living room. 

You were sitting back on the couch, everything happened all at once. Your mind was going on overload. Satoru made his way over to you and kneeled down in front of you, grabbing hold of your hands.

“You can count on me. I will always be there for you. You are welcome to stay here as long as you like. As long as you're comfortable.”

You nodded and thanked him again. You could hear Satoru's stomach growling, he hadn't eaten anything yet. He turned away embarrassed, which made you laugh at him. 

“Can I see what's in your kitchen?”

“Sure, my fridge is pretty well stocked.”

He wasn't kidding. You could find anything in there, and everything seems fresh. He had people who would come and clean and cook for him. There was also a full shelf of sweets and cakes. You know he had a sweet tooth from his cup of cream and sugar with a drop of coffee. 

You asked him for an apron before pulling things out of the fridge to prepare for a meal. Satoru always hoped that there would be a day where he could be around you while you cook with him staying close to you in his human form. He was so happy his wish came true. 

“Is there anything you want me to make?”

“Sweet Tamago!” 

Of course he would pick a sweet dish. You sighed and laughed at him. You got the ingredients out and cracked the eggs into a bowl, you put in the sugar and soy and a hint of fish sauce and you asked him to whisk everything together. He enjoyed being your helper as you prep the other ingredients. His kitchen had everything, if you could put your mind to it, he had it. It made it so easy to cook everything. The sweet tamago was made perfectly with the square pan. You always make them weird looking since you only have a round pan at home. 

You set the dinner table, you could see Satoru's eyes glittering. He pinched his cheeks as if he was trying to see if he was dreaming. You told him to sit and eat while it was still hot. He loves your cooking, eating so fast he almost choked. 

“Slow down, I can always make more. No need to rush.” 

“You cook so well. I've been wanting to tell you.” 

Satoru hits you with a childlike toothy smile, your heart beating out of your chest, finally remembering he was your first crush. You wanted to keep in touch but didn't know how. You and your mother left in a rush and you were sad for a long time. Even after meeting Naoya, you would talk about your fun times with Satoru, which made Naoya brainwash you into actually suppressing all your memories of him. 

Satoru helped with cleaning up after dinner. It was the first time he got to help, he offered to wash the dishes and asked if you like to shower and just relax. You took his offer for a shower and he lent you his t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

Satoru focused hard on the dishes as he heard the shower running, he couldn't help but be reminded of how you look naked and could feel his blood rushing south. He didn't want to be a creep about it but you just have this effect on him. He wanted to touch himself so bad but held it in, thinking of everything and anything for his buddy to calm down. 

“I'm done with my shower, it's your turn.”

You walked out, wearing his oversized clothes on your tiny body, his eyes linger a bit longer than they should. Satoru started nose bleeding, he quickly grabbed the washcloth and covered his nose. He excuses himself again as he sprinted to his room and slammed the door behind him. ‘How can someone look this adorable in baggy clothes???!!’ You were pretty well covered but he thought that was the sexiest thing you've ever worn. 

Satoru didn't want to be rude so he shouted from his room, telling you he will be taking his shower now and that you could find something to watch while you wait. He quickly slipped into the showers, his hands making quick work to relieve the throbbing pain on his cock, squeezing tight around the base before furiously stroking himself, picturing how cute you looked just now. He let out a pornographic moan before shooting his thick load, wishing someday you would be on the receiving end. 

You watched TV as you waited, not sure what tomorrow would bring. What could you do? Naoya knows where you live and where you work, how can you continue hiding from him? You could feel another headache every time he occupied your mind. You were lost in deep thoughts when Satoru came out, he saw you laying on the couch, your brows furrowed and your eyes were closed. He pokes at the spot between your eyebrows, something you used to do to him long ago when he was overthinking. 

“You must be tired, I have spare rooms you can stay in. It would be more comfortable than sleeping on the couch.”

His smile was so gentle it was making you melt. You nodded your head and followed him to a room close to his own. 

“Well then, good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Satoru.” 

He turns to walk towards his own room but your arm moves on its own, grabbing the bottom of his t-shirt. 

Satoru's eyes widened and kept blinking at you with a semi confused look. You let go of him and apologize, “Sorry! I don't know what came over me! Good night!!” You tried to close the door only for Satoru to intercept. 

“If you want me to stay, you only have to ask.” Satoru smirks as he enters the room. You stumbled backwards towards the bed, your legs hit the side of the bed and you ended up sitting on the bed. 

He walked closer and started taking his shirt off.

“???! What are you doing??” Your hands fly to your face and you cover your eyes as you squeeze them shut. “Don't worry, I'll take care of you.” 

You could tell he was taking off his pants too but you kept your eyes covered. Next thing you felt was Satoru rubbing against you, in cat form. He thought you wanted his company, which he wasn't wrong, but you didn't know how you should ask him to stay. He hopped onto the bed and patted on the pillow with his paw, telling you to go lay down. You moved toward the pillow and laid your head on it, Satoru lay beside you, not as close as he did before, but close enough for you to feel his presence. 

“Thank you Satoru, sweet dreams.”

You closed your eyes and could hear his soft purrs, it lulled you to sleep soon after. You haven't had a good night's rest for a while, the same goes for Satoru, his worst fear was that you would hate him and never let him see you again. You both had a sweet dream, dreaming of when you both used to play together, always having one another.

Satoru woke up before your alarm went off, he always does. He just likes to pretend to be asleep and hear you giggle at his silly sleeping poses. He's still in cat form, but he wished he was in human form. He wants to touch you so badly, not in a sexual way, just feeling you in general. Your hair falls perfectly over your features, cheeks look so smooth and soft and your lips look oh so, so, So sweet. 

Maybe he could have a taste before you get up? He leaned in slowly, his heart was beating out of his chest, he could hear the ba-thumps ringing in his ear. He was SO close, he could almost taste you, his whiskers accidentally touched you and you turned away. He didn't have the courage to try again, since your alarm will go off soon. He laid himself down, just watching your peaceful sleeping face. This is all he wishes for right now, he shouldn't be greedy and scare you away again. 

Your alarm finally rings, you reach for it and turn it off. You turned your head and saw Satoru staring at you, instead of resisting or hiding, your arm moved to pet him.

“Good morning Satoru, You're up early.”

Satoru purrs to your touch before jumping off the bed, walking towards his clothes and dragging them outside with him. He returned shortly after, fully dressed. 

“Good morning. How was your sleep?” 

“Great! Haven't had a good night's sleep for a while.”

“... I'm sorry, it was all because of me wasn't it?”

“Don't worry about it, I already forgave you. A while ago actually… I just wanted to prank you a bit more.”

Satoru was shocked, he could sense things were getting better but he didn't want to jump to conclusions. 

“I promise I won't lie to you ever again.” 

He looks so sincere, just kneeling down by your bed, keeping himself away because he wasn't sure what you feel about him being close. You thought he was very thoughtful, always keeping you in mind, nothing like the person you used to be with, so arrogant and selfish, only thinking of himself. 

You could feel your heart racing, your old memories of how much you enjoyed his company floods your mind. With him always putting you first, and with him being your first love, he had you crushing like a school girl all over again. 

You listened to your heart, your hands reached to cup his face, his eyes widened before you surprised him by pulling his face towards your own, capturing his lips. 

Satoru never would have expected that, he wasn't sure what you thought of him right now, but this? He couldn't resist at all, the moment your lips touched his, his eyes were rolled back so far in bliss. He felt like he was melting, you taste so much sweeter than he could ever imagine. He responds back by seeking access with his tongue, you parting your lips and even extending yours to meet him halfway had him moaning as both of your tongues danced in harmony. 

You and Satoru lost the sense of time, losing your mind on each other's kisses. Satoru was drowning in pleasure, he had wished for this day to come a lifetime ago. Both you and Satoru became a drooling mess, both still unwilling to let the other go. Just as Satoru was leaning in, about to push you down to the bed, your phone started ringing. 

You both snapped out of your trance, wiping the drool that seeped out from the corners of your mouth, you picked up the phone and realized it was your manager calling. 

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/N, I just wanted to let you know, the guy who showed up yesterday is here again. You might want to take a day off, you have vacation saved up too if you would like to use them. Just let me know.”

“Thank you so much Uraume, I'll take some time off then. I'll have this figured out before returning to work. Thanks for your understanding. Help me thank the others as well.”

You hung up the phone and sighed. Not sure what you should do next. Satoru knows something is up, it is written all over your face. 

“Is it him again?”

You nodded. 

“What's his problem anyway? Why is he acting like he's your boyfriend?”

You sighed but decided it was best to tell him what had happened between you and Naoya.

Satoru sat there, processing all the information that you've just given him. He thought Naoya was an asshole and he never deserved you. He was hurting to hear that your first was given to him.

“Y/N.” Satoru said with a very serious face.

“Let me protect you from now on. I won't let him hurt you anymore. You shouldn't have to change for anyone. You can be yourself when you're with me. Let me take care of you. Will you be my girlfriend?”

You were shocked from his sudden confession, you were overwhelmed with happiness, tears were flowing from your eyes, you haven't felt this way for a long time. You eagerly nodded, your arms flung around the back of his head, his arms held your middle protectively as he was also overjoyed. 

With your feelings finally reaching each other, Satoru thought you could stay at his place for now, at least until the Naoya issue is settled. He suggested for you to stay over, since he has the space and you both could use each other's company. Your only problem was you not having any personal belongings other than your wallet and your phone. You haven't had the chance to get home since Naoya’s sudden appearance. Right now the 2 of you were just enjoying being in each other's embrace. 

The tender moment was cut short by your grumbling tummy. You turned away embarrassed while Satoru chuckled. He suggested going to the mall to pick up some things for you to stay over, since he wasn't sure if you should go grab them from your place since Naoya could also be waiting for you there. You agreed and you both went to get ready to head out, you changed back into your uniform, since it was just a white blouse and black pants, it looked better than wearing Satoru's oversized t-shirt.

Satoru was in one of his fancier dress shirts and dark pants. Your gaze stayed on him for a bit longer as you felt your cheeks starting to burn. You don't want to admit it but he did look good in everything he wore, you thought that before as well, even when you couldn't remember him and thought he was just acting like a thorn in your sides. 

“Like what you see?”

“Yup.” 

Your straightforwardness actually caught him off guard, he's now blushing and looking away, fiddling with his hair as you giggled. He extended his hand for you to hold, you reached for it with no hesitation. The 2 of you left his penthouse and headed for the mall in his car. You 2 held onto each other's hands every opportunity you got. 

You had a meal together, went to buy a matching toothbrush and towel, even a few sets of matching pajamas. Satoru insisted he paid everything, he knew you could afford everything you want but he just wants to spoil you rotten. He was going overboard, to a point where if you just look at something a second longer, he would buy it. He bought you different outfits and dresses, some he just picked out thinking they would look good on you. He was carrying so many bags it was starting to get difficult walking, he didn't want to stop buying things for you though, wanting to put everything he bought so far in the car so he could get more. 

You 2 walked by a lingerie shop and Satoru stopped for a second, eyes landing on the set on display. He quickly shook his head and started walking again. You told him to bring the items to the car, and that you had to use the bathroom first. Satoru insisted he wait for you but you told him it wouldn't take long and that he is carrying too much stuff, so he sighed and agreed. 

Satoru went to the parking area, putting all the bags in the trunk, it could hardly fit with the amount of bags there were. It took him a while to finally put everything away and you went to the parking lot right after. 

On the way back to Satoru's apartment, you told him to think of what he wanted for dinner, as a thank you for buying you all the things. He doesn't really know what he likes most since he loves everything you made him. He suggested you make him dessert, and you thought you could make him some cupcakes. 

When you arrived back at the parking of the penthouse, Satoru asked some of the receptionists in the front to help carry stuff back upstairs. The ladies were all fond of Satoru, so young and rich, too bad he was never interested in anyone other than you. They envied you when he carried most of the bags, while the ladies carried some and you just stood there empty handed other than your personal bag. You kind of felt bad for them, you could have carried your own things but Satoru wouldn't let you. 

After putting everything inside, Satoru gave the girls a generous tip for helping with the bags, they thanked them happily and went back downstairs. The bags were everywhere, it would take a while to sort everything. You appointed Satoru to do the sorting while you prepared to make his dinner and dessert. 

He brought the bags in the spare room and started filling the drawers and closet with the new items. His thoughts went back to the lingerie shop, he looked up the site with his phone and scrolled through sets he thought would look nice on you. Would you wear it for him? He couldn't help but think how nice you would look in them, he had already marked a few and had them added to the online shopping cart. He thought it wouldn't hurt to have a few extra sets of undergarments, right?

It took him a while but he finally got everything sorted. The closet and drawers were already full of clothing. You have months worth of new clothes, he thought maybe you could do a mini fashion show for him. 

The yummy smell of dinner had caught his attention and he came out of the room, going to the kitchen and hugging you from behind while you cooked. He loves just being there with you, and you don't mind him being there as well. You asked him to set the table and he gladly does it. Helping you bring the finished dishes to the table. 

“Your cooking is so much better than the chefs I used to hire. Maybe you should consider living here and being my personal chef.” Satoru jokingly said even though there was 90% truth and the rest of the 10% was wishful thinking. 

You didn't give him an answer, you thought it was too soon to live together, it hasn't even been 24 hours since you got together. You thought of what could have happened, if you didn't move away, would you be together with Satoru? Would you be dating each other sooner? It feels like so much time has already been wasted and you should just do what you want to be happy. 

“We’ll see~” you teased.

Satoru had enough of not being with you, he would marry you right away if you told him yes. He's tired of waiting but he knows he cannot rush you, he respects you too much to not consider how you feel. 

You both finished dinner and you told Satoru to go wash up first while you finish with the desserts. He agreed and went to take his shower. You cleaned up and did the dishes, finishing up with the final touches of his dessert. 

Satoru came out of the shower, wearing the new pajamas that you bought together, he was excited for his desserts but you told him to wait until after you finish with your shower, wanting to savor them together. He patiently waited, looking at his phone once again and buying more outfits for you. (This man needs to stop…) His heart was racing when he saw you come out, wearing the matching pajamas, you left the first button loose on purpose, he could feel heat building up between his legs.

You brought the cupcakes over to the coffee table and grabbed one before sitting yourself down on his lap, making him flinch and stiffen his posture. You turned to face him and began feeding him the cupcake, the blue icing smeared on his lips for him to lick off, moaning at the delicious treat as you fed him more. There was a bit of icing left at the corner of his mouth and you licked it off. 

Satoru was feeling flustered, you must be doing this on purpose right? Were you inviting him to touch you by sitting on his lap? You were driving him insane, he wasn't sure if he should be taking this as a chance to advance or not. You could almost hear the gears spinning in overdrive. 

Satoru's eyes were glued to you, how you took a bite of his cupcake as big chunks fell on your semi exposed chest. 

“Hey Satoru, could you get that for me?” you acted all innocent but you were anything but.

“Umm… Ca-can I?” He started stuttering.

“Yea, help me please?” You changed your position, having one of each leg on his side, semi saddling him as you lean your chest towards his face. 

“You're gonna be the death of me.” He tried to eat the chunk of cake but it fell further into your bra, he looked up at you as if he was waiting for your instructions.

“What are you waiting for? Aren't you going to help me get it out? I thought you wanted your dessert?” You playfully teased him. 

He lets out a sound that was a mix of a whine and a moan. His fingers work to unbutton your pajama top to get to the bra, his eyes widened as he sees you wearing the set of lingerie he was eyeing earlier at the mall.

“!!!” his mouth gape open and he was at a loss of words, his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes tried to burn the image into his brain. You even picked his favorite color. 

“Do you not like it? You're being awfully quiet.” you continue to tease. 

“You tricked me! You told me you were going to the bathroom. I wanted to buy everything for you!” He starts pouting. 

You put the rest of the cupcake back down and licked your fingers, “Well I wanted to do something for you, since you were so nice to me.” 

“Wait, you got this for me???” 

“Mmhmm, do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it!! Does this mean I get to…”

“Mmhm-” you couldn't even finish as he had already popped your breasts out of its refines, he had one hand on each of your breasts as he rolled his fingers on the hardened nipples, making you whine, before taking one side and sucking it in his mouth. His tongue swirls hungrily on your nipple as his other hand squeezes your other breast. He eats up the piece of cupcake which was stuck between your breasts before moving to suck the other side. 

“So yummy, best dessert ever.”

You were starting to feel a little embarrassed, feeling your whole body was heating up, especially down at your core. You are slightly wiggling awkwardly, Satoru noticed and you could FEEL the smirk on his face. 

“You teased me long enough, now it's my turn.” He abruptly got up, his hands grabbing onto your under thighs as he carried you off to his room. 

“Get ready babe, our fun is just about to begin.”

sorry it was getting way too long so im cutting it off at the BEST PART. look forward to the next part n3n~♥

@moonchhu @non-artistic-license @entr4p3 @prtty-pink-angel @nonamevenus @victoria1676 @haithamsbb @jotarohat @birbwithhat @hel1nn @undercooked-chaos-noodle @akiraneedstobefixed @soozeu @sukunadckrider @yihona-san06

[dykedvonte]

I hate the stretch lines in the front of Curly's uniform because that means the devs rushed to make a model in like a month or so and thought "They gotta at least know he has huge knockers, gotta know he's got back pain." Cause like what is the thematic importance of his tits having overhang?

What responsibility is that representing? Breast reduction? It shows an inherent greed in his character due to the excess and heshouldletmeholdone and that he clearly is blinded cause if he tries to look down his damn ladder all he's seeing is his own cleavage.

[faunandfloraas]

Pretty much 7 out of 8 of these guys are some kind of muscley- stopping cursing my boy seungmin with the What if he got muscle shit

[margridarnauds]

#NO LITERALLY#theyve done something awful but what choice do they have? rhiannon can't protect herself nvm them!!#love this fuckin take youve done it again R#the mabinogi It REALLY struck me this read-through how thoroughly screwed Rhiannon is from the get-go. Because like...how shall I put this? I think, in the past, I put more stock in her status as queen + bond with Pwyll than the text actually does. Because the lords are ALREADY calling for her removal -- they want Pwyll to marry another woman. And they're not monsters for this! The text goes out of its way to say that they do this out of love! They're just....men. And Rhiannon is just a woman. And she's a woman who isn't One of Them. I want to do more on this one day, but I think that interpretations that make her explicitly a fairy woman miss out on the raw horror that she is a HUMAN WOMAN being exposed to this, simply because she's vulnerable, she hasn't given birth to a son, and she isn't One of Them. If it was their daughter, or their sister? She would probably get a pass. But she ISN'T.

She promises to protect them, but can she really, when the wolves come baying at her door? The boy is missing, SOMEONE has to pay, and there's something about how she's described, when she goes to sleep, as "mam y mab Riannon" -- she is the MOTHER to the son of Rhiannon, SHE is not the important one. Her job security just got yanked through the chimney.

I jokingly asked this time about how they could possibly mistake the bones of something else for a newborn baby (because, if nothing else, there tends to be a difference in size, along with anatomy), and one of my colleagues very seriously told me that the Mabinogi exists in a state of heightened reality and you can't take it too literally. (I mean, just because YOU'VE never been whisked off to a magical world to switch places with an Otherworldly king...) But that explanation, while valid and coming from a good place, didn't sit FULLY well with me because...well. The EVENTS of the Mabinogi tend to be fantastical, but the underlying psychology tends to NOT be. What Gwydion does in the Fourth Branch is, to put it lightly, unrealistic, but we know why he does it: He loves his brother and he loves his nephew. Why does Llwyd do his fucked up little magic show in the Third Branch? Because no one cares about Gwawl (which, tbf, the audience has likely forgotten Gwawl by that point.) In and amongst the horrors of the Fourth Branch, Manawydan promises Cigfa he'll protect her. We get glimpses into both Pwyll AND the wife of Arawn's POVs during the switch in the First Branch.

The point is...it's fantastical, yes, but it also tends to be psychologically plausible. The author of the Mabinogi, whoever they were, was someone who seems to have been very interested in human behavior, the WHY for people's actions. They tend to at least give a sentence or two for why people do something. So my interpretation is this: They didn't care that the bones clearly weren't that of a newborn human. It didn't matter. I'm not even sold, during this read-through, that they actually, seriously BELIEVED that she had done it. Because Rhiannon was in a tight space from the beginning and now they had the chance to press their case against Pwyll. They didn't care because it was convenient to what they wanted. And it doesn't make the lords monstrous, but it's one more example of men dropping the ball through laziness or personal interest or just not THINKING and women paying for it.

And taking into account the situation of the women...again...they did something monstrous, but they also saw exactly where the wind was blowing and saved themselves. And the question that I think adaptations tend to lose by making them like. Stereotypical old hags or accusers in a witchcraft trial (which, also, Rhiannon HERSELF has more sympathy for them than I think adaptations tend to), but that I do think the text DOES invite us to consider is how many of US would do the same in their situation, out of a moment of panic? Maybe we wouldn't be the ones to do the monstrous action, but how many of us would sit by and say nothing? Everyone wants to be Rhiannon (...okay, besides the whole. You know. "Carrying people on your back for years" thing) -- she's clever, quick-witted, eloquent, diplomatic, brave, and generous, with one of the single most iconic lines in the entire Four Branches, as well as, naturally, being beautiful even into her later years. She's wonderful. But the reality is...how many of us can be her?

Rereading the First Branch of the Mabinogi lowkey makes me want to do a retelling of the second half, but from the perspective of one of the women who was sent to look after Baby Pryderi and framed Rhiannon.

Because like. These women do something despicable. They hurt mostly innocents. There's no softening this. They hurt someone who does nothing but try to reassure them that she'll protect them, they hurt an ENTIRELY innocent creature in a way that I literally can't type and could barely translate. There's no point where you can girlbossify this.

But the thing that the author of the Mabinogi does is that they don't act out of jealousy, or because they're naturally evil, but because they're scared. They just lost the king's son. They explicitly think that being burned to death or put to death (no, the text doesn't quite explain how burning isn't a form of being put to death) would be a small punishment. Were they noblewomen? Were they common women who found themselves in over their heads? All we know is that they were sent in to watch over the baby and fell asleep...but we know that the thing that snatches Pryderi tends to make people fall asleep. Was it really their fault? They found themselves in a situation where they were in over their head and made a monstrous decision.

Did they see Rhiannon while she was doing her penance? Did any of them feel a hint of guilt? What did they think when her penance was over and they found out that Pryderi was alive? How do you live with that kind of secret? What kind of twisted, fucked up bond do you have with someone when you've smeared blood on the queen's face and hands with them?

[madamescarlette]

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[deoidesign]

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[ruvviks]

PLEASE DO NOT TAG AS YOUR OWN OC.

Rafael is driven by his independence and his anger, fighting for what he believes in and deems right to free his people and return peace to Medici. But his tendency to push people away blurs the lines between selflessness and self-destruction, and his desperation for control greatly overshadows the true lack thereof— and it has turned his spark into an all-consuming forest fire, with no way to douse the flames. And everything burned, as promised. OC WEB WEAVE SERIES: RAFAEL RODRIGUEZ.

richard kadrey, aloha from hell // by eyedeeuhs // firestarter; torre florim // by gundula blumi // savannah brown, from 'closer baby closer' // leach; bones uk // ocean vuong, from 'to my father / to my future son' // by ysociety // maybe, i; des rocs // victoria chang, to love anyone // 'smoke and fire 1' by jennifer walton // burn; vorsa // vita sackville-west, from 'solitude' // by spelio // arsonist's lullabye; hozier // shira erlichman, from 'how to become a forest fire'