#I’m writing in a windstorm

[urhoneycombwitch]

managed to write 2k more of pure (unholy) smut for the roommates before our power went out 🥳🥳🥳

[aprilisthecruelestmonth]

April is the Cruelest Month Whump Event 2025!

Here we are again! The second year of AitCM!

It's a good month to whump our favorite characters!

In AitCM, to complete, you only have to write 15 days, and the other fifteen days you read & rec a fic that fits one the prompts for the day. (Feel free to create and promote art pieces as well!)

This not only makes it easier to fit into a busy schedule, but it helps promote your favorite writers!

You are more than welcome, of course, to write all thirty days or rec all thirty days—or both—but that is not necessary to complete the challenge.

Join us in filling the world with spectacular whump stories!

Tag us in your stories, recs, and art!

The prompt list for your convenience:

Day One:

Cornered-|-Whipped-|-Blood on hands-|- “Please… let me go”

Day Two:

Brave face-|-Branding-|-Self-sacrifice-|- “Pick on someone your own size”

Day Three:

Paranoia-|-Framed-|-Can’t Speak-|- “I don’t want to hear it”

Day Four:

Falling from a high place-|-Hunted-|-Fever-|- “I’m scared”

Day Five:

Slavery-|-Mind Control-|-Forced to beg-|- “It’s too late to ask for forgiveness”

Day Six:

Overprotective-|-Hidden Injury-|-Amputation-|- “I can’t do this”

Day Seven:

Panic Attack-|-Poisoned-|-Exhaustion-|- “No, no hospitals”

Day Eight:

Blackmail-|-Cursed-|-Made to watch-|- “Why did you do it?”

Day Nine:

Amnesia-|-Explosion-|-Failed Escape-|- “I don’t feel a pulse”

Day Ten:

Touch starved-|-Gunshots-|-Presumed Dead-|- “It’s your fault”

Day Eleven:

Nausea-|-Concussion-|-Secret Reveal-|- “Why did you come back?”

Day Twelve:

Dehydration-|-Tied up-|-Torture-|- “I wish you were dead”

Day Thirteen:

Explosion-|-Fainting-|-Fighting through the pain-|- “What did you say?”

Day Fourteen:

Medical Injury-|-Drugged-|-Pre-mortem Autopsy-|- “It’s not too late”

Day Fifteen:

Screams-|-Drowning-|-Fallen through the ice-|- “I’m so, so sorry”

Day Sixteen:

Sleep Deprivation-|-Choked-|-Hostage Situation-|- “Give them room to breathe”

Day Seventeen:

Phobias-|-Burned-|-Public Execution -|- “Just grin and bear it”

Day Eighteen:

Abandonment Issues-|-Used as Bait-|-Unconventional Weapon-|- “We can’t leave them”

Day Nineteen:

Stranded-|-Animal Bites-|-Self-surgery-|- “Not everyone makes it out”

Day Twenty:

Earthquake-|-Collapsed-|-Suffocation-|- “Everything hurts”

Day Twenty-One:

Stockholm Syndrome-|-Broken Bone-|-Withdrawl-|- “Don’t leave me here”

Day Twenty-Two:

Migraine-|-seizure-|-Running on Adrenaline -|- “Don’t speak”

Day Twenty-Three:

Confrontation-|-Stumbling-|-Scar Reveal-|- “Don’t let them in”

Day Twenty-Four:

Vengeance-|-Humiliated-|-A Game of Roulette-|- “Why can’t I move?”

Day Twenty-Five:

Stalker-|-Blindfolded-|-Friendly Fire-|- “You said you loved me”

Day Twenty-Six:

Infection-|-Beaten-|-Failed Escape -|- “It’s too late. They’re inside”

Day Twenty-Seven:

Weeping-|-Kidnapped-|-Running out of air-|- “It’s not my blood”

Day Twenty-Eight:

Over Work-|-Accident-|-Head Injury -|- “Where does it hurt?”

Day Twenty-Nine:

Windstorm-|-Broken Trust-|-No place to go-|- “I don’t want to talk about it”

Day Thirty:

Being Carried-|-Hyperventilating-|-Waking up disoriented-|- “I just need a hug”

Alt prompts:

1- Insomnia

2- Fall Guy

3- Whumper turned Caretaker

4- Twisted Knife

5- Pick who dies

6- Hot Coals

7- Ice Burns

8- Pulling Teeth

9- Waterboarding

10- Electrocution

Choose one or more of the prompts daily (or use an alt prompt) and get to work!

The minimum requirement is 100 words. It's not terribly strict. If 100 words seems too daunting, try to get as close as you can. There is no maximum word count, though.

Post your stories to our Ao3 collection:

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/April_is_the_Cruelest_Month_2025_Event

Do your best and get to whumping!

Special thanks to Lynn(justanotherinterneruser) for helping put this together. <3

[faebled-stories]

Symphony of Release

Kinkvember Day 27: Sex Dungeon

NingNing (Ning Yizhuo) Giselle (Uchinaga Aeri) Aespa X Male reader

25.1k words

AN: I know I keep saying, "This fic is my longest yet," but this time, I really mean it😅. This one is officially my longest, and my brain feels like total mush after putting it all together. There’s no way I’m writing this much in one day again. I know this is later than my normal post time but I hope you guys understand💖

It was nearing midnight when Minjeong stumbled through the front door of the apartment. The soft click of the lock echoed through the quiet room, startling Karina from where she sat curled on the couch. A tub of ice cream balanced precariously on her knees, its smooth surface beginning to melt around the edges. Giselle, cross-legged on the floor amid a sea of folded laundry, glanced up sharply, her hands pausing mid-motion as she folded a pair of socks. Across the room, Ningning stirred from the cocoon of her blanket on the recliner, her hand hovering over the remote as she paused the neon-lit drama flashing across the TV. One by one, their gazes shifted to Minjeong.

Minjeong froze, her silhouette framed by the faint glow of the hallway light. Her hair was a mess, clinging in damp strands to her flushed forehead, and her cheeks burned with the deep pink of exertion—or something else entirely. She had clearly tried to pull herself together: her oversized sweater was hastily tugged on, the hem uneven and bunched at her side, while her face shone with the telltale dampness of a rushed wash. And yet, beneath the soap-and-water effort, an unmistakable, musky undertone lingered in the air, faint but inescapable. It clung to her skin like a whisper of the night she was trying to forget—or avoid acknowledging.

Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the strap of her bag, frozen like a deer caught in headlights under their collective stares.

“Um… hey,” she croaked, her voice cracking awkwardly. “I didn’t think you’d all still be… awake.”

Karina arched an eyebrow, her lips curling around the spoon in her hand with theatrical slowness. She withdrew it with a soft click, letting the ice cream linger on her tongue before speaking. “That’s all you’ve got? You look like you got caught in a windstorm… and something else.” She sniffed the air, her expression twisting with amused disbelief. “Oh my God. Are you serious right now?”

Minjeong’s face turned scarlet, her eyes darting anywhere but at her roommates. The silence grew louder, the ticking of the wall clock amplifying her discomfort. She took a small step toward her bedroom, her sneakers squeaking faintly against the polished floorboards.

“I’m just… really tired. Long night,” she mumbled, clutching her bag like a shield.

“Uh-uh. No way,” Giselle interjected, rising to her feet in a single, fluid motion. She crossed her arms, her stance firm and unyielding as she fixed Minjeong with a sharp look. “We’re not letting this one slide. What’s going on with you lately? You’ve been sneaking out every other night, coming home late, and looking like… this.”

“Like what?” Minjeong snapped, her voice a touch too defensive to sell the indifference she was aiming for.

“Like someone who’s been thoroughly…” Ningning hesitated, her cheeks blooming pink as she struggled to find the words. “…Thoroughly.”

Karina exploded into laughter, doubling over as she nearly sent the tub of ice cream tumbling onto the floor. “Oh my God, Ning. Just say it! She looks like someone who got wrecked.”

“Stop!” Minjeong practically squeaked, her panic sharpening the edges of her voice. “It’s not—it’s not what you think.”

Karina leaned forward, her grin widening like a cat that had cornered its prey. “Oh, it’s exactly what I think. So, who is it? Secret boyfriend? Hookup? Don’t be shy. Spill!”

“It’s no one!” Minjeong blurted, clutching her bag tighter as if it could somehow ward off the interrogation. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Then where are you going?” Giselle asked, her skepticism practically vibrating in the air. “Because whatever you’re doing, you smell like…” She wrinkled her nose dramatically. “…like you’ve been doing something.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Minjeong muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as she edged closer to her bedroom door. “It’s just… personal.”

Karina tilted her head, her playful grin taking on an edge of genuine curiosity. “Personal? Okay, now I really want to know. You can’t just say that and expect us to drop it.”

Ningning shifted under her blanket, her eyes darting between her friends. “I mean… we’re all thinking about it, right? Where she’d been going, coming back like this?”

Minjeong groaned, the sound low and drawn out, her head dropping slightly as if surrendering to an invisible weight. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” they chorused, their voices a mix of teasing and determination.

She sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping under the weight of the inevitable. “Fine,” she muttered, her tone a mix of exasperation and resignation. “There’s this… place I’ve been going to.”

Karina leaned forward, her curiosity evident as she tilted her head. “What kind of place?”

Minjeong hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she finally replied. “It’s hard to explain. It doesn’t really have a name. It’s just… a space where people can explore things.”

“What kind of ‘things’?” Giselle asked, narrowing her eyes as suspicion flickered in her expression.

Minjeong’s cheeks flamed, her voice rushing out before she could stop herself. “Intimacy. It’s private. Safe. They have different rooms where you can try things, or watch, or… whatever.”

The room fell into stunned silence, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. Only the faint hum of the paused TV broke the stillness.

“So… like a sex club?” Ningning finally asked, her tone carrying equal parts shock and intrigue.

“It’s not a club,” Minjeong snapped, defensive as her eyes darted between them. “It’s professional. It’s about curiosity and connection. It’s not some sketchy hookup scene.”

Karina raised an eyebrow, her tone thoughtful rather than critical. “How do you even know about this place?”

Minjeong sighed, brushing her damp bangs back from her forehead. “Yunjin told me about it. It’s run by the same people who own that other place—you know, the one with the glory hole.”

Ningning’s jaw dropped, her eyes wide as she stared at Minjeong. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you serious? That place Yunjin described? With the creepy wooden wall and the literal hole?”

“It’s not creepy!” Minjeong snapped, rolling her eyes. “It’s supposed to be like that—it’s the vibe. They keep it simple because it adds to the ambience or whatever.”

Karina nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Like, the mystery of it, right? That kind of makes sense.”

“Exactly,” Minjeong said, relieved at Karina’s understanding. “But this place is nothing like that. It’s completely different. It’s modern, sleek, and everything is super private and professional. It’s all about creating a safe space for people to explore.”

Giselle tilted her head, her skepticism softening slightly. “So, it’s more like… a curated experience?”

Minjeong nodded. “Yes, exactly. It’s not shady or anything. It’s designed for people who are curious and want to try new things in a safe way.”

Karina grinned, leaning back on the couch. “Honestly, that sounds kind of amazing. I can see why you’ve been sneaking out.”

“Thank you,” Minjeong muttered, her tone softening as she shot Karina a small look of gratitude. “At least someone gets it.”

Ningning still looked flustered, her face partially hidden in her hands. “I just… I can’t believe this is a thing. Like, you’re just casually going to places like this?”

Minjeong crossed her arms, her voice sharp with exasperation. “Yes, because it’s not some back-alley setup, okay? It’s intentional, it’s safe, and it’s… honestly kind of amazing.”

Karina smirked, giving Ningning a pointed look. “You’re acting like you don’t swipe right on every guy with a dog in his profile. At least Minjeong knows what she’s walking into.”

“Hey!” Ningning shot back, her face red as Karina and Giselle burst into laughter.

Minjeong sighed dramatically, heading toward her room. “I’m going to shower. Can we talk about literally anything else when I get back?”

Karina leaned back, her grin undiminished. “We’ll see. You know we’re going to have more questions.”

Minjeong didn’t reply, disappearing into her room and shutting the door firmly behind her. The faint sound of the shower starting echoed through the apartment, the steady stream of water the only noise in the tense stillness left behind.

The three left in the living room exchanged glances.

“I cannot believe this,” Ningning muttered, pulling her blanket tighter around herself as if warding off the thought. “She’s seriously sneaking off to places like that?”

“I don’t know,” Giselle said, her frown deepening. “It still sounds kind of sketchy. Who even runs something like that?”

“I can think of a few reasons,” Karina quipped, her mischievous grin practically glowing. “Honestly, it sounds incredible. I bet she’s having the time of her life.”

“She looks like she’s been dragged through a hedge backwards,” Ningning countered, shaking her head. “That doesn’t exactly scream ‘fun’ to me.”

Karina shrugged, unbothered. “Maybe she’s just… exploring. Who knows? I, for one, think it sounds hot.”

When Minjeong finally emerged from her room, her hair damp and clinging to her cheeks in soft strands, she was dressed in a loose hoodie and sweatpants, her posture stiff with hesitation. She stopped short when she saw them still sitting there, their expressions practically crackling with anticipation. Their eyes glittered, waiting for her to speak as if the show was about to start.

“No,” she said immediately, raising a hand in protest. “I told you, I’m done talking about it.”

“Come on,” Karina said, leaning forward with an easy grin. “You can’t just drop something like that and leave us hanging. We need to know more.”

“Yeah,” Ningning added, though her tone was more cautious. “What do you even do there?”

Minjeong hesitated, her gaze falling to the floor as heat rushed to her face. Her hands balled into small fists at her sides, her discomfort obvious. “It’s… complicated,” she said softly, avoiding their eyes.

“Then explain it,” Karina said, her tone gentle but persistent.

Minjeong sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping in defeat. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the doorframe and spoke slowly. “A while ago, I read this… book. It had a scene where the character…” She trailed off, her face turning bright red as her voice dropped to a near-whisper. “...she, um, she… squirted” she pressed her lips together, wishing the floor would swallow her whole. 

The room went silent, her words hanging in the air like a challenge. Ningning’s mouth dropped open, her disbelief written all over her face. Giselle blinked, momentarily stunned. Karina, however, looked delighted, her grin spreading wider.

“Wait,” Karina said, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in her eye. “You’ve been sneaking off to this place because you read a book about someone squirting, and you wanted to see if it was real?”

Minjeong’s face was practically glowing, and she stared hard at the floor, as if it might offer her salvation. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” she admitted reluctantly. “It just… wouldn’t leave my mind. And then the conversation got brought up, and Yunjin told me about that place. She said it’s run by the same people as that other one she mentioned, but this one is more…” She hesitated, searching for the right word. “Broad. Structured.”

“Oh, come on,” Ningning said, her skepticism practically radiating off her. “There’s no way people actually do that. It’s so fake.”

Karina rolled her eyes. “It’s not a conspiracy, Ning. I’m sure it can totally happen.”

“But how?” Giselle chimed in, narrowing her eyes as if trying to unravel a mystery. “It’s not like that’s a normal thing, right? Isn’t it just exaggerated in movies and… books?”

“It’s not exaggerated,” Minjeong said quietly, though her voice lacked its usual firmness. “It’s just… uncommon.”

“That’s an understatement,” Ningning muttered, shaking her head. “I still don’t buy it.”

Karina threw up her hands in exasperation. “You guys are such skeptics! Just because you haven’t experienced it doesn’t mean it’s fake.”

Minjeong groaned, burying her face in her hands. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to talk about it.”

The room divided like a fault line, Karina on one side, practically bouncing with excitement, and Ningning and Giselle on the other, their skeptical expressions nearly identical. The debate escalated as they volleyed arguments back and forth, the room buzzing with contrasting opinions.

“It’s science!” Karina insisted, gesturing animatedly. “Do you even hear yourselves? Of course, it’s real. Minjeong literally just said it happened.”

“Science or not, it sounds… extreme,” Ningning said doubtfully, pulling her blanket tighter. “Like something you’d read about in a clickbait article.”

“Or fanfiction,” Giselle added under her breath, earning a sharp glare from Karina.

“All I’m saying is, it’s not impossible,” Karina said firmly, throwing an arm around Minjeong’s shoulders for support. “And honestly? I think it’s pretty amazing that she had the guts to find out.”

Minjeong groaned again, shrinking lower. “Can we please stop talking about this?”

“Not a chance,” Karina said, her grin unwavering. “This is the best thing I’ve heard all year.”

Karina leaned back with a sly smirk, her gaze flicking toward Minjeong. She leaned in ever so slightly, lowering her voice so the others couldn’t hear. Minjeong stiffened, her wide eyes darting to Karina as a faint blush crept up her cheeks. Karina’s playful, conspiratorial expression was enough to make Minjeong’s lips part in hesitant confusion.

Karina whispered something quietly, and Minjeong blinked, her expression shifting between embarrassment and reluctant amusement. She gave a tiny shake of her head, her lips pressing together as if to suppress a smile.

Karina sat back, triumphant, and clapped her hands together with deliberate force, snapping the others’ attention to her. “Okay,” she announced brightly, cutting through the tension. “You clearly don’t believe it, so here’s my suggestion.”

Giselle and Ningning turned to her warily, their skepticism etched in their faces. “What suggestion?” Giselle asked, her voice cautious.

Karina’s grin widened. “Why don’t you two go and find out for yourselves?”

Ningning blinked, her jaw dropping. “You’re joking.”

“I’m completely serious,” Karina said smoothly. “You keep saying it’s ridiculous, so why not settle it? Go. See what it’s actually like.”

“That’s insane,” Ningning said, her face turning red. “Why would we do that?”

“To prove a point,” Karina replied, shrugging. “Unless you’re scared.”

Ningning sputtered, clutching her blanket. “I’m not scared! I just— It’s ridiculous.”

Minjeong sighed, cutting through the argument with a calm voice. “It’s not about proving anything. The point is that it’s a safe space to explore. You don’t have to do anything. You can just… see. If it’s not for you, you leave. That’s it.”

Giselle narrowed her eyes. “So we just walk in and… magically get it?”

Minjeong shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe not. It’s not for everyone. But it’s not what you’re imagining either. It’s safer. Better.”

Ningning groaned, sinking deeper into her recliner. “This is ridiculous.”

Karina chuckled, her grin smug. “Just think about it. No pressure.”

The conversation fizzled into uneasy silence as Giselle and Ningning exchanged glances. Minjeong, feeling the weight of the room, mumbled, “I’m going to bed,” and disappeared into her room.

A while later, after Giselle and Ningning had retreated, Karina lingered before slipping into Minjeong’s room. Minjeong looked up from her bed, startled but not annoyed.

Karina grinned, leaning against the doorframe. “So? Did you actually… you know…”

Minjeong hesitated, her lips trembling before she gave the smallest, shyest nod.

Karina’s gasp was loud enough to echo off the walls. “No way! That’s insane. Was it—?”

“It was…” Minjeong trailed off, her voice barely audible. “It was intense.”

Karina clapped her hands together, looking like Christmas had come early. “You have to take me next time.”

Minjeong laughed, still red-faced, and nudged Karina toward the door. “Goodnight, Karina.”

As Karina left with a satisfied grin, Minjeong allowed herself to sink into her pillows, a small, reluctant smile tugging at her lips.

-----

In the days that followed, the weight of that night’s conversation lingered in the apartment, an unspoken tension threading through their interactions. Minjeong remained quiet about the topic, going about her routines as usual, but every now and then, Ningning and Giselle would exchange glances, the question hanging in the air between them: Are we actually going to do this?

One evening, as all of them sat in the living room, the TV playing a show none of them were paying attention to, Ningning finally broke the silence.

“So…” she began, her voice hesitant but pointed. “About what unnie said the other night.”

Karina, sprawled out on the couch with her legs draped over the armrest, smirked. “Took you long enough.”

Giselle glanced up from her phone, raising an eyebrow. “I’m still not convinced,” she said, though her tone was less dismissive than it had been. “It just sounds… I don’t know, extreme.”

“Extreme?” Karina scoffed, sitting up and swinging her legs onto the floor. “Come on. It’s not like anyone’s forcing you to jump in headfirst. You could just… see it. Dip a toe in. Or don’t.”

Ningning fidgeted with the edge of her blanket. “Minjeong made it sound pretty safe,” she said, almost to herself. “And it’s not like we have to do anything, right? Just… check it out.”

Giselle narrowed her eyes. “You’re seriously considering this?”

“Well…” Ningning hesitated, her cheeks flushing. “Aren’t you? You’ve been quiet about it all week.”

Giselle huffed, crossing her arms. “I just don’t want to end up in some weird situation. What if it’s not what we’re expecting?”

“It’s not,” Minjeong’s voice cut through the room softly. She had been lingering in the doorway, unnoticed until now. Her expression was calm but serious, her eyes darting between them. “It’s nothing like what you’re imagining. I promise.”

Karina gestured toward Minjeong with a flourish. “See? She promises. And if it’s as safe as she says, what’s the harm in a little adventure?”

“I don’t know…” Giselle trailed off, her skepticism giving way to contemplation.

“You can leave anytime,” Minjeong said, stepping farther into the room. “If you feel uncomfortable, you just walk out. No one will stop you. No one will even ask why.”

“And we don’t have to… you know…” Ningning’s voice dropped as she gestured vaguely, her face burning red.

Minjeong shook her head. “Not unless you want to. You’re in control the whole time. And it’s not some creepy scene or anything. It’s professional. Respectful. Everyone’s there for their own reasons, and no one judges anyone else.”

Karina’s grin widened as she leaned back, crossing her arms. “Sounds like a glowing endorsement to me.”

Ningning chewed on her lip, her blanket now bunched in her lap. “It’s just… such a weird thing to do.”

“Exactly,” Giselle said, though her words lacked their usual edge. “It’s weird.”

“Weird doesn’t mean bad,” Minjeong said gently. “Sometimes it just means… different. And different can be good. You might surprise yourselves.”

The room fell silent, the faint hum of the TV filling the space as they considered her words. Ningning and Giselle exchanged a look, a flicker of unspoken understanding passing between them.

“Well,” Karina said, breaking the quiet, “I think you two should do it. Who knows? It might even be fun.”

“You’re not helping,” Giselle muttered, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

Minjeong hesitated, then gave a small, reassuring smile. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. But if you’re even a little curious… it’s worth a try. Just to see.”

Ningning let out a long breath, pulling the blanket tighter. “I’ll think about it.”

Giselle nodded slowly. “Me too. But I’m not making any promises.”

“Fair enough,” Minjeong said, retreating back to her room with a faint smile.

Karina watched her go, then turned back to the others with a twinkle in her eye. “You’re totally doing it.”

“Shut up,” Ningning and Giselle said in unison, but their cheeks were pink, and neither of them outright denied it.

The idea hovered between them, tantalizing and unresolved, as they returned to their show, though none of them were paying much attention to it now.

-----

Eventually their curiosity got the better of them and they agreed to go. By the time they arrived at the place, nerves had transformed into a strange cocktail of anticipation and curiosity. The building was surprisingly polished—a tall, elegant brick structure with clean lines and minimalist signage that simply read “Welcome.” Its shaded, frosted windows gave an air of privacy without secrecy, inviting rather than intimidating. It felt like a space designed to intrigue and comfort rather than overwhelm.

Inside, the lobby was nothing like the dungeon-like image Ningning and Giselle had tentatively imagined. Instead, it resembled a boutique spa. Soft ambient music hummed faintly through hidden speakers, blending seamlessly with the subtle aroma of lavender and sandalwood. The lighting was warm and diffused, casting golden hues over sleek, modern furniture and tasteful artwork that adorned the walls.

Then they met you.

You stepped forward with a calm, professional demeanor, offering a gentle smile that immediately softened their stiff postures. “Welcome,” you said, your voice smooth and soothing, perfectly complementing the tranquil ambiance. “I’m here to answer any questions you have and to make sure you feel comfortable throughout. This experience is entirely at your pace.”

Your words rippled through them, easing the tension that had coiled in their shoulders during the car ride over. They nodded in acknowledgment, their breaths steadying as they followed you deeper into the space. The hallway, lined with soft, abstract art in muted tones, felt like a threshold—not just physically but emotionally. Each step seemed to take them closer to something they couldn’t yet name, a blend of the unfamiliar and the curious.

You led them into a softly lit room where the golden light spilled like honey across the walls, painted in warm, neutral tones. The scent of polished wood mingled with faint notes of cedar, grounding the space. It felt intimate but not confining, like a carefully crafted haven. In the center of the room sat a neatly arranged set of tools and equipment, minimal and unobtrusive, designed to invite exploration rather than demand it.

Pausing, you turned back to face them, ensuring they were present and focused. “Before we go any further,” you began, your voice steady and inviting, “let’s talk about safe words.”

Ningning and Giselle both stiffened slightly, their expressions flickering with nervousness. You noticed the hesitation in their eyes and offered an encouraging smile, your demeanor gentle yet confident.

“This is about giving you total control of the experience,” you explained. “We use safe words as a way to stop or ease up if you feel uncomfortable. If you say ‘yellow,’ we’ll slow down; if you say ‘red,’ everything stops immediately. Think of it like a pause button.”

Giselle furrowed her brow, absorbing the information. “So, ‘yellow’ if we want to take a break, and ‘red’ if we want to stop completely?” she asked, her voice soft but steady.

“Exactly,” you said, meeting her gaze with calm confidence. “This is entirely your experience. At any point, you can say one word, and it stops—no questions asked.”

A visible wave of relief washed over Ningning as her shoulders dropped. She let out a small sigh, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Actually… that makes me feel a lot better. Just knowing that,” she admitted, glancing at Giselle.

Giselle gave her a faint nod in return, her posture relaxing slightly, though a trace of skepticism lingered in her eyes.

“Good,” you said, your tone soft with reassurance. “If you’re ready, we can begin.”

They exchanged a glance—a quick, silent moment of mutual reassurance—before turning back to you. Their nods were tentative but genuine, a signal of cautious readiness.

“I’ve prepared a regiment for the two of you,” you said, your voice steady and measured, watching their reactions carefully. “It’s designed to ease you into the experience, gradually introducing different sensations and emotions. However, this is flexible. I’ll be making adjustments based on your responses. This is about what feels right for you, so I’ll omit or add activities as we go.”

“Everything is planned out for us?” Ningning asked, her eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Not exactly,” you clarified with a soft smile. “I designed it with a structured flow in mind, but it’s not set in stone. Think of it as a guide, not a rulebook. We’ll adapt as needed. I’ll guide you step by step. However, there’s one recommendation: it’s best if you approach this blind.”

“Blind? Like, blindfolded?” Ningning asked, her brows knitting together in confusion.

“Not necessarily,” you explained, your tone gentle but firm. “While blindfolding is an option, what I mean is that you won’t know what’s coming next. When you let go of anticipation, it sharpens your senses and helps you focus on the moment. It lets you experience each activity more fully without preconceived notions.”

Ningning’s lips parted slightly, her expression contemplative. “So, we’d just… let it happen?”

“Exactly,” you replied, your gaze steady. “It’s about letting go of control in a safe environment. You’ll focus entirely on how you feel in the moment rather than trying to predict what’s next.”

Giselle crossed her arms, her skepticism evident. “I don’t know… that sounds a little intense.”

“It is,” Ningning said with a soft laugh, glancing at her friend. “But maybe that’s the point? I mean, if we’re doing this, we might as well do it the right way.”

Giselle hesitated, her gaze flicking between you and Ningning before exhaling heavily. “And we can stop anytime, right?”

“Absolutely,” you assured her, your voice calm and reassuring.

Ningning and Giselle exchanged a quick glance, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, Ningning gave a tentative nod, her lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “I think we should try.”

Giselle rolled her eyes softly, but the corners of her mouth betrayed a small, curious smile. “Fine. But if this gets weird, I’m out.”

“Fair enough,” you said with a warm smile, gesturing toward the center of the room, where everything had been carefully prepared for their arrival.

With practiced ease, you guided them into the softly lit room, the golden glow casting a warm, intimate light across the space. The earlier atmosphere of calm reassurance shifted as you closed the door behind them with a soft click. When you turned back, your entire demeanor had transformed—your expression now steady and commanding, your movements precise and deliberate. The quiet authority you carried filled the room, grounding them in the gravity of what was to come.

“Strip,” you instructed, your tone calm but unyielding, leaving no room for hesitation. “Everything but your panties.”

They froze for a moment, the weight of the command sinking in. Their gazes flicked to you, a sudden jolt of arousal coursing through them as they took in this new, commanding side of you. It was unexpected—this transformation in your demeanor—and it sent a shiver of anticipation down their spines.

Exchanging a brief glance, they seemed to silently agree on their next steps. Ningning’s fingers trembled slightly as she grasped the hem of her shirt, carefully sliding it off her shoulders. Her bra followed, the clasp unhooking with slow, deliberate movements as she revealed her flushed skin. Giselle followed suit, unbuttoning her blouse with steady hands before stepping out of her jeans in a single, fluid motion. Both of their breathing grew shallow, the cool air brushing against their heated skin.

They folded their garments neatly, setting them aside in a small pile, the rustling of fabric the only sound punctuating the charged silence of the room. Their movements were measured, deliberate, as though they were hyper-aware of your presence. Left in only their panties, the vulnerability of the moment wrapped around them like a second skin.

You observed them closely, your steady gaze unwavering, assessing their compliance with quiet intensity. A faint nod of approval softened the edges of your commanding presence. “Good,” you said simply, your tone neutral but firm. “Now, hands forward.”

Their hands rose instinctively, the slight tremor in Ningning’s fingers betraying her nerves. You stepped forward with measured precision, your every motion exuding calm confidence. Picking up a coil of soft, supple rope from the nearby table, you moved toward Ningning first.

You took her wrists gently in your hands, the warmth of your fingers steadying her as you began to work. Your movements were fluid and practiced, each loop of the rope snug but never tight. The fabric pressed softly against her skin, securing her without discomfort. The quiet rustling of the rope as it glided through your hands filled the space, mingling with the faint rhythm of her breathing.

Once finished, you turned to Giselle. She extended her hands wordlessly, her gaze flicking briefly to Ningning before returning to you. You repeated the process, wrapping the rope around her wrists with the same precision, the material gliding smoothly as you worked. Her posture remained composed, though the faintest flush of color crept up her neck as the knots settled into place.

Their hands now rested just above their heads, supported by the ropes. Their feet stayed grounded, but the gentle tension in their arms introduced a faint stretch that felt unfamiliar yet oddly empowering. They exchanged a quick glance, their shared curiosity reflected in the subtle flicker of their expressions.

The sensation of the ropes—their softness, their firm yet yielding hold—seemed to heighten everything around them. The golden light wrapped the room in warmth, while the rhythmic creak of the ropes created a cocoon of quiet intimacy. What had once been a heavy sense of anticipation now felt lighter, suspended in a moment of carefully crafted care.

“Good girls,” you said softly, your voice carrying a subtle warmth beneath its grounded authority. Moving deliberately, you adjusted the ropes, your presence steady and unwavering. The care in your actions was unmistakable, but so was the quiet dominance that now defined your movements. You exuded control—not forceful, but unshakable��creating a dynamic that made them feel held and guided.

With a faint smile, you stepped back to let them adjust to the position. “Let’s start with something simple,” you said, your voice low but firm, with just enough softness to ease their remaining nerves. You turned toward a nearby table, retrieving a soft flogger, its supple material catching the golden light as you lifted it.

The rhythmic sound of your footsteps across the floor filled the space, a quiet punctuation to the moment. Ningning took a deep breath, her senses finely tuned to the subtle movements around her. Her gaze followed you with a mix of curiosity and anticipation, while Giselle briefly closed her eyes, grounding herself in the present and letting her focus shift to her body’s awareness.

“Ready?” you asked, your voice steady and unyielding, carrying no pressure but a quiet expectation.

They nodded, their breathing steadier now, though their bodies remained taut with anticipation. You stepped closer to Ningning first, letting the soft flogger trail lightly over her bare shoulder. The faint whisper of its strands brushing against her skin sent a shiver coursing down her spine, heightening her awareness of every inch of her body. Her chest rose and fell with measured breaths, her senses narrowing to the point of contact.

Then came the first light tap. The strands of the flogger landed on her upper back with a delicate precision, the sting blooming across her skin in a wave of warmth. Ningning inhaled sharply, the unexpected sensation startling her at first, her lips parting as her eyes widened. The sting faded quickly, leaving behind a faint, tingling heat that lingered, coaxing her body into a heightened state of sensitivity.

As the rhythm of the strokes continued, deliberate and evenly spaced, her initial tension began to dissolve. Each strike brought a sharper awareness, a paradoxical mixture of control and surrender that her mind couldn’t quite process but her body responded to instinctively. The faint pull of the ropes binding her wrists heightened the sensation, keeping her grounded as her thoughts gave way to raw feeling. Her breathing deepened, the warmth in her skin now merging with an unfamiliar but undeniable arousal. The sting that had surprised her at first now contributed to a growing ache of need, as though her body was awakening to a language it had never spoken before.

Gradually, the intensity increased. The strokes came harder, the flogger landing with more force, pushing her just a little further with each hit. Ningning’s moans deepened, her body reacting to the pain in ways that surprised even her. The sting turned into a fiery pulse, dancing across her skin in a way that threatened to overwhelm her but never quite crossed the line. Her head tilted back, her lips parting to release a soft whimper that mixed pain and pleasure into a single, intoxicating sound. The ache lingered longer now, the heat radiating from her back blending with the throbbing arousal pooling low in her body.

You moved with deliberate care, watching for any flicker of discomfort in her expression. But Ningning’s soft exhales, the subtle arch of her back, and the way her hips shifted told you she was riding the edge of the sensation, her body adapting as she yielded to the rhythm of the flogger.

Satisfied, you turned to Giselle, allowing the flogger’s supple strands to brush teasingly across her skin. The faint touch made her flinch slightly, a gasp escaping her lips as her body stiffened reflexively. You delivered the first light stroke to her back, the flogger landing with a muted crack. The sting rippled through her, sharp and immediate, forcing her breath to hitch. For a moment, her body froze, her mind processing the unfamiliar sensation.

But as the heat spread, the sharpness softened into something richer, more profound—a warmth that coursed through her muscles and heightened her awareness of her own body. Her breaths began to slow, her posture shifting as she allowed herself to accept the rhythm. Each subsequent stroke seemed to draw her deeper into the moment, her mind quieting as the sensation became less foreign and more intoxicating. The feeling of being bound, her wrists held securely above her head, amplified her surrender. The ropes didn’t restrain her—they anchored her, giving her the freedom to let go.

The strokes on Giselle intensified gradually as well, the flogger landing with increasing force. Her body jerked with each hit, the sharp sting leaving behind a trail of tingling heat that both burned and soothed. The line between too much and just enough blurred, her body trembling as the sensations layered atop each other. A flush crept up her neck, her chest heaving as she adjusted to the rhythm. Each strike sent a pulse of arousal coursing through her, the pain tipping into pleasure with a sweet inevitability.

The pain built steadily, each strike pushing them closer to their limits without crossing the threshold. It hovered at the brink, testing their endurance while drawing out their arousal. Ningning’s soft moans became more urgent, her body shivering as she leaned into the rhythm, her mind overwhelmed but unwilling to stop. Giselle’s breathing hitched with every strike, her head falling forward as she let out a series of trembling gasps, her body fighting the tension that teetered on the edge of overwhelming.

When you finally stepped back, both women were trembling. Their flushed skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, and their breathing synced in shallow, uneven gasps. The throbbing ache in their backs mirrored the pulsing arousal coursing through their bodies. Their eyes met, wide and glassy, the pain and pleasure written in their expressions—a silent acknowledgment that this was unlike anything they had imagined. It was raw, immersive, and undeniably arousing.

“You’re doing well,” you said softly, your tone carrying a note of approval that resonated in the quiet space. Their gazes shifted back to you, their expressions now open, filled with curiosity and something deeper, more vulnerable.

You paused, giving them time to absorb the sensations fully before speaking again. “Alright,” you said, your voice calm and measured, “I’m going to add another element.”

Ningning and Giselle both nodded, their interest fully captured now. Their cheeks were still flushed from the sensations they’d already experienced, their breaths shallow as they prepared for what was next. The soft sound of the ropes faintly creaking above them served as a quiet reminder of their bound state, amplifying their awareness of every movement.

From your collection, you retrieved a pair of intricately designed clamps, their polished metal gleaming in the light. They were delicate but purposeful, adjustable to provide just enough pressure to transform ordinary touch into something extraordinary. You held the clamps with quiet authority, their intricate design a contrast to the intensity they promised.

Starting with Ningning, you reached forward, your fingers grazing the curve of her breast with deliberate slowness. Her breath hitched as your touch lingered, her skin hypersensitive under your hand. With practiced ease, you secured the first clamp to her nipple. The initial sensation was sharp, a sudden sting that drew a gasp from her parted lips. “Ahh…” Her back arched slightly, the pull of the rope above her making the reaction even more pronounced.

The sting lingered, a constant ache that quickly shifted into a hum of sensation, heightening her awareness of her body. A soft moan escaped her as you secured the second clamp, the dual points of pressure creating a symphony of sensations. The ache was persistent, demanding her focus, but the way it blended with the warmth of arousal in her core made her chest rise and fall with quickened breaths. Beneath her, the heat of her excitement began to bloom, the dampness at the apex of her thighs growing as her body responded.

You turned to Giselle, your hands just as steady and deliberate. Her eyes fluttered closed as your fingers ghosted over her skin, teasing her sensitive flesh before carefully placing the first clamp. “Mmm…” she moaned softly, her body stiffening momentarily at the sting as the metal gripped her. A low, trembling exhale followed as the sensation settled, morphing from sharpness into a dull, throbbing ache that sent warmth radiating outward. The second clamp followed with equal care, eliciting a soft, shaky moan from her lips. “Oh…” Giselle’s breathing deepened, her chest rising as she adjusted to the rhythmic pulse of sensation.

Bound above, their hands unable to lower, both Ningning and Giselle were acutely aware of every shift and movement. The clamps weren’t merely a source of sensation; they were a constant presence, a persistent reminder of their vulnerability. And yet, that vulnerability seemed to amplify their arousal, each breath bringing them closer to surrendering fully to the moment.

you retrieved two floggers, their supple strands swaying lightly as you held them in each hand. The leather glinted faintly in the light, promising a mix of sensation that would push them further. Their eyes flickered to the tools, their bodies tensing in anticipation as you stepped closer.

You began with Ningning and Giselle simultaneously, the strands of the floggers trailing across their skin in teasing strokes. The featherlight contact danced along their shoulders, arms, and backs, coaxing shivers that made their breath hitch. The anticipation of the impact alone sent a thrill through them, their muscles tightening instinctively.

The first strikes landed, one on each of them, perfectly timed. The strands of the floggers kissed their skin with a satisfying crack, sending ripples of sensation through their bodies. Ningning gasped sharply, her hips jerking slightly against the tension of the ropes. Giselle let out a soft cry, her body stiffening momentarily before yielding to the sting. The impact wasn’t overwhelming—just enough to awaken their senses and pull them into the moment.

You continued, your movements measured and deliberate as the floggers alternated between soft trails and precise strikes. The synchronized rhythm created a symphony of sensation that reverberated through their bodies. Each strike was perfectly timed to ensure neither was left waiting too long, the alternating snaps of leather keeping their senses sharp and their arousal building.

Ningning’s head tilted back, her lips parting as the flogger’s strands brushed over the curve of her lower back, followed by a precise strike just beneath her shoulder blades. The sting blended with a spreading warmth, her breathing growing shallower as the sensations layered. Each strike heightened the ache in her chest, the clamps on her nipples pulling slightly with every flinch, amplifying the experience. “Oh… oh…” she whimpered, her voice trembling as the sensations pushed her closer to her limits.

Giselle, on the other hand, squirmed against the bonds, her moans low and breathy as the flogger struck her thighs with a sharp crack. The impact sent a shiver up her spine, the ache settling into a dull throb that pulsed through her sensitive skin. Her nipples, adorned with the clamps, tugged faintly with every motion, the combination of pain and arousal sending her reeling. “Ahh…” she gasped, her hips shifting as her body sought release from the growing tension.

Switching to a synchronized rhythm, you struck their thighs in tandem, the floggers landing with a sharp snap that made them cry out simultaneously. The matching reactions sent a thrill through the room, their voices blending in a harmony of raw sensation. The sight of them together, bound and trembling, with the faint sheen of sweat glistening on their skin, was mesmerizing.

The strikes grew slightly firmer, the intensity increasing as you alternated between their backs, shoulders, and thighs. Each impact pulled a deeper reaction from them, their cries becoming louder, their bodies arching against the ropes as the pain crept closer to the brink of too much—but never crossing the line. Their flushed cheeks and trembling thighs betrayed the arousal simmering beneath the surface, the pain merging seamlessly with pleasure.

“Breathe,” you instructed, your voice steady and grounding. The reminder was enough to steady their erratic breaths, their chests rising and falling as they adjusted to the rhythm. The floggers snapped against their skin again, and this time, Ningning’s hips bucked involuntarily, a soft moan spilling from her lips as her arousal became undeniable. The dampness soaking her panties left no question of her response, the heat pooling at her core almost unbearable.

Giselle, too, was unraveling under the dual sensations. Her body trembled with every strike, her breaths shallow and uneven as the clamps tugged with each movement. “Please…” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, the word dripping with need. Her thighs quivered, the evidence of her arousal glistening faintly between her legs.

The room was alive with the sounds of their moans, the rhythmic crack of the floggers, and the faint creak of the ropes above them. The atmosphere was charged, every sound and motion amplifying the intimacy of the moment. Their bodies were painted with faint red marks from the floggers, the lingering sting merging with the ache of the clamps to push them further into surrender.

You paused briefly, letting the floggers rest against your sides as you stepped closer. Your hands brushed over their trembling forms, the gentle touch a stark contrast to the intensity of the flogging. “You’re both incredible,” you murmured, your voice soft but commanding.

Positioned between them, your hands moved with deliberate care, teasing the soft line where their thighs met their centers. The proximity alone sent shivers through their bodies, the charged tension in the air palpable. Ningning’s hips shifted instinctively, a soft, breathy moan escaping her lips as your fingers hovered maddeningly close to her entrance. The barest brush of your touch against her slick panties drew a sharp gasp, her body arching as though every nerve had been primed for this moment. “Please…” she whispered, her voice trembling with need, the dampness soaking through the fabric leaving no question of her arousal.

On Giselle’s side, your fingers mirrored the same featherlight touch, barely skimming the delicate skin beneath the damp fabric at her core. Her breath hitched audibly, her bound wrists tugging gently at the ropes as if seeking some anchor amidst the overwhelming sensations. “Mmm… oh…” she moaned, her thighs trembling as her body leaned subtly toward you, desperate for more contact. The clamps adorning her nipples heightened every subtle motion, the tug of the chain combining pain and pleasure in a way that made her hips press eagerly against your teasing fingers.

You alternated between them with meticulous precision, your touch gentle yet deliberate. A teasing stroke here, a fleeting graze there—just enough to push them closer to the edge without offering the satisfaction their bodies so clearly craved. Ningning’s moans grew louder, her hips lifting in small, involuntary movements as if drawn by invisible strings. Her core glistened beneath the thin layer of her panties, soaking through the delicate fabric, the evidence of her surrender shining in the golden light. “Ahh… I can’t…” she gasped, her voice shaking, the ache in her body now unbearable yet exquisite.

Giselle was lost in the rhythm of your touch, her thighs quivering as her moans softened into low, fervent whispers. “Mmm… please,” she murmured, her lips parting as she gave in completely. Her body rocked subtly, her movements bolder with each stroke, while the clamps on her nipples pulsed in time with the ache radiating through her. Her voice, breathy and trembling, added to the tension that thickened the air. “More…”

Between them, you worked like a conductor orchestrating a symphony, their bodies the instruments responding perfectly to your touch. The wet sounds of their arousal, the quiet clink of the chain between the clamps, and the soft moans that spilled from their lips blended into a harmony of pleasure and need. Every shift of your fingers and every intentional pause amplified their yearning, drawing them closer to the precipice with every touch.”

Ningning’s response was a choked moan, her body trembling as her slickness overflowed, soaking the thin fabric of her panties until it clung to her. Giselle whimpered in unison, her thighs trembling as her own need reached a fever pitch. Their breaths became erratic, their gazes hazy and unfocused, their arousal undeniable as they teetered on the edge of release.

Just as the crescendo seemed inevitable, you slowed your movements, teasingly lightening your touch until your fingers hovered maddeningly close to their centers without fully making contact. Ningning let out a desperate whimper, her hips lifting instinctively toward your touch, only for you to withdraw entirely. “Ahh… please,” she moaned, her voice trembling with need.

Giselle echoed her plea, her lips parting as a low, drawn-out whine spilled from her throat. “Don’t stop… please,” she murmured, her voice thick with desperation as her thighs quivered against the restraint of her own arousal.

With a small, deliberate pause, you slipped your fingers to their soaked panties, pressing lightly against the fabric to collect the wetness that pooled there. Both of them gasped, the sudden pressure sending a jolt of sensation through their bodies. “You’re dripping,” you said softly, your voice a mixture of approval and tease.

Holding your fingers up to Ningning first, you pressed them lightly to her lips. “Taste yourself,” you commanded gently. Her eyes widened slightly, her breath catching, but she obeyed, her lips parting to take your fingers into her mouth. Her tongue flicked against them tentatively at first, her eyes fluttering shut as the intimate taste of her own arousal spread across her palate. A soft moan escaped her throat as she sucked lightly, her cheeks flushing deeper.

Turning to Giselle, you offered her the same. “Your turn.” Without hesitation, her lips wrapped around your fingers, her tongue tracing deliberately against them as her moan resonated low and deep, her lashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks. The shared intimacy of tasting themselves lingered in the air, their gazes flicking to each other, a mirrored hunger reflected in their expressions.

Their breathing grew shallow as you moved behind them, the tension in the room thickening. Their bound hands, secured above their heads, stretched their bodies taut, their exposed curves highlighted by the glow of the golden light. The vulnerability of their position sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through them, their soaked panties clinging to their flushed, sensitive skin.

You placed a hand on Ningning’s lower back, the heat of her skin radiating against your palm. “Good girl,” you murmured softly before raising your hand and delivering a sharp smack to her ass. The sound echoed through the room, her gasp sharp and startled as her body jolted forward. The sting lingered, blooming into a warmth that sent a shudder through her.

Without hesitation, you turned to Giselle, delivering the same measured strike to her. Her response was different—lower, more guttural—as her bound wrists shifted slightly, and her legs trembled beneath her. “Mmm…” she moaned, her voice thick with a mixture of pain and pleasure.

You alternated between them, your strikes deliberate, each impact eliciting a sharp gasp or moan. Their backs arched further with each touch, their bodies instinctively lifting to meet your hand. The heat radiating from their reddened skin blended seamlessly with the growing slickness soaking through their panties.

Once their breathing became ragged and their moans deepened, you let your hands drift lower, teasing the edges of the damp fabric covering their centers. Both women froze for a moment, their bodies trembling in anticipation as you pressed lightly against the soaked cloth. The heat from their folds was undeniable, and your teasing touch only heightened their arousal.

With a swift, deliberate motion, you brought your palm up against Ningning’s throbbing area, the spank sharp even through the damp barrier of her panties. She cried out instantly, her voice raw and breathless. “Ahhh—oh!” Her hips bucked forward, her thighs trembling as the mix of sting and pleasure shot through her body.

Giselle barely had time to react before your other hand landed on hers in a similar motion. Her moan was deeper, her legs quaking as she pressed her hips against the table. “Mmm… oh my God!” she gasped, the vibration of her voice carrying through the room.

Sliding your hands under their thighs, you brought your palms up, the strikes landing directly on their folds. Their voices rose in unison, desperate and raw. “Please…” Ningning whimpered, her body quaking as another spank drew a muffled scream. Giselle’s voice followed, her cries breathless and broken as she teetered on the edge of release.

“You feel it, don’t you?” you murmured, your voice low and commanding, leaning close enough for your breath to tickle their ears. “The way your bodies crave this, the way you’ve surrendered completely.”

They nodded helplessly, their voices lost in the symphony of gasps and moans that filled the room. The smell of their arousal mingled with the warmth radiating from their skin, creating an intoxicating atmosphere. Their panties clung to their slick folds, glistening in the light as their trembling bodies sought release. Every strike sent ripples of sensation through them, pushing them closer and closer to the precipice, their cries growing louder and more desperate with each passing second.

Suddenly, you untied the ropes that bound their hands above their heads, granting them a fleeting moment of respite. Their arms fell limply, their muscles trembling from the strain and the lingering arousal coursing through them. They flexed their fingers instinctively, a faint tingling running through their limbs as they adjusted to the sudden freedom.

“Take off your panties,” you commanded, your voice calm but firm, cutting through the haze of the moment. “And give them to me.”

The instruction left no room for hesitation. Ningning’s trembling hands moved first, hooking her thumbs under the waistband of her panties and sliding them down her thighs. The damp fabric clung slightly before coming free, revealing her reddened lips. Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade as she held the soaked garment in her hand, the wetness undeniable against her skin.

Giselle mirrored her, peeling the damp fabric from her heated core with slow, deliberate movements. The cool air brushing against her sensitive skin made her inhale sharply, her eyes flicking briefly to Ningning before focusing on you. She held her panties between her fingers, feeling the slick weight of her arousal before hesitantly extending them toward you.

You accepted them with steady hands, your expression unreadable but commanding. “Feel them,” you instructed, holding the garments back toward them briefly. “Understand just how deeply your bodies have responded.”

Ningning’s fingers brushed over the damp fabric, her eyes widening slightly as she pressed her lips together, trying to contain her reaction. “Oh my god…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her cheeks glowing as she comprehended just how soaked they were.

Giselle’s response was quieter, her thumb grazing the wetness as a small, knowing smile tugged at her lips. “That’s… a lot,” she murmured, her breath hitching as the realization settled over her.

The moment was fleeting. Without a word, you folded their panties neatly, the damp fabric a testament to their arousal. With deliberate care, you slid them into your pockets, before stepping forward, your presence grounding them as their breathing quickened.

“Hands behind your backs,” you said, your voice smooth and unyielding, and they obeyed immediately. Their arms moved into position, trembling slightly as you secured their wrists once more with soft, silken ropes. Each loop was precise, snug without being harsh, holding them firmly yet comfortably.

“I want you both to sit tight for a moment. I’ll be right back,” you instructed, your tone firm yet reassuring. With a nod, you turned and left the room, your quiet footsteps fading into the adjacent chamber.

Left to their own devices, Ningning and Giselle’s minds raced with curiosity, their bodies still alight with the sensations you’d left them to process. Giselle, her chest still heaving, turned toward Ningning with a faint, knowing smile. “That was… so good,” she whispered, her voice tinged with excited apprehension.

Ningning let out a breathy laugh, her cheeks glowing as she leaned slightly forward. “I can’t believe how wet I am right now,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, tinged with awe and vulnerability. A shiver ran through her as she shifted slightly, the slickness between her thighs a constant reminder of her arousal.

Before Giselle could respond, the sound of your footsteps returning drew their attention. You stepped back into the room, your presence commanding yet calm, your arms cradling two sleek, identical machines that hummed faintly with potential. The golden light of the room glinted off their polished surfaces, casting a warm glow that seemed to heighten the anticipation.

Giselle’s eyes widened in recognition as her gaze fell on the devices—two Sybians, infamous for their unrelenting intensity. Though she had never personally experienced one, the stories she’d heard were enough to send a shiver down her spine, her breath catching in her throat. Beside her, Ningning regarded the machines with a blend of curiosity and confusion, her innocence apparent in the whispered query, “Wait… what are those?”

Leaning closer, Giselle whispered, her voice tinged with both apprehension and excitement, “They’re… well, let’s just say they’re intense.”

You positioned the Sybians carefully, facing each other, the low hum of their engines vibrating faintly in the quiet room. The promise of what lay ahead hung thick in the air, a heady mix of arousal and nervous anticipation. Your movements were deliberate, almost ceremonial, as you arranged the scene, ensuring every detail was perfect. Ningning and Giselle watched, their bound hands resting behind them, their breathing shallow as they tried to steady themselves for what was to come.

With meticulous care, you guided them toward the Sybians, their knees trembling slightly as they straddled the velvety surface of the devices. The upholstery was soft against their thighs, a tactile contrast to the power that lay just beneath the surface. The slight height of the machines forced them into a position that was equal parts vulnerable and intimate, their bodies cradled by the contours designed to meet their most sensitive areas.

As they settled into place, the machines hummed to life, their low vibrations spreading through the room. Ningning gasped softly as the first subtle tremor reached her, her hips shifting instinctively in response. The sensation was like a gentle pulse, resonating deep within her core and coaxing her body into heightened awareness. Her lips parted as a soft, breathy moan escaped her. “Oh…” The sound carried a note of surprise, her innocence melting into tentative exploration.

Giselle, more prepared for the experience, exhaled a slow, shaky breath as the low purr of the Sybian spread through her. The vibration was pervasive, sinking into her muscles and radiating outward, like a wave of warmth that seemed to unwind her body from the inside out. Her head tilted back slightly, her bound wrists pulling faintly against the ropes as she surrendered to the initial sensations. “God…” she murmured, her voice low and tinged with both awe and arousal.

The machines were still on their lowest setting, their vibrations soft but insistent, like a whisper coaxing their bodies to respond. The hum resonated through their folds, teasing their most sensitive nerves without overwhelming them. It was a careful prelude, a tender invitation to let go. Ningning’s hips began to shift involuntarily, seeking more pressure, the dampness between her thighs betraying how deeply her body was responding. “It’s… so much,” she whispered, her voice trembling with both nerves and arousal.

You watched closely, your eyes flicking between Ningning and Giselle, gauging their reactions. Their breaths were shallow, their bodies quivering with the lingering intensity of the Sybians’ vibrations. It was clear they were teetering on the edge, their flushed cheeks and parted lips betraying their heightened states of arousal. Satisfied that they were ready for the next step, you moved with deliberate precision, reaching for the chain that would transform their experience into something even more profound.

With a smooth motion, you adjusted the clamps already adorning their sensitive nipples, the faint creak of the metal audible in the quiet room. Ningning whimpered softly at the renewed pressure, her body tensing briefly before relaxing into the sensation. Giselle’s lips parted in a shaky exhale, her chest rising and falling as she adjusted to the small adjustment.

Then, with deliberate care, you connected the clamps—first attaching Ningning’s right nipple to Giselle’s left, and then repeating the action on the opposite side. The fine silver chain between them gleamed under the warm light, a delicate but unmistakable bridge that tethered their bodies and sensations together. The effect was immediate and electric. The slightest movement from one caused the chain to tug on the other, creating a feedback loop of stimulation that neither could escape.

Ningning gasped as the chain shifted with Giselle’s movement, the pull on her nipple sending a fresh wave of sensation rippling through her. “Ahh…” she moaned softly, her hips trembling against the Sybian beneath her. The cool metal of the chain warmed quickly against their flushed skin, its presence a constant, tangible reminder of their connection.

Giselle inhaled sharply as the chain tugged her in response, her own gasp echoing Ningning’s. The clamps’ unyielding grip amplified every shudder and twitch, their sensitive peaks now bound in a dance of give and take. “Oh… god…” she murmured, her voice low and breathy, her body swaying slightly as the sensations intertwined.

“Now, the only rule here is to sit still,” you commanded softly, your voice steady yet firm. The authority in your tone sent a shiver through them, grounding them even as their bodies threatened to spiral into the overwhelming sensations. “If you move too much, you’ll only make it more intense for each other.”

The Sybians hummed beneath them, their vibrations deepening as you turned the controls slightly. The shift was subtle at first, a gentle increase that teased their already overstimulated bodies. Ningning let out a broken moan, her thighs clenching instinctively against the velvety surface of the device. The vibrations seemed to seep into her very core, spreading like wildfire through her body. “Oh my god…” she gasped, her voice trembling as the sensations climbed higher.

Giselle’s reaction was no less immediate. Her lips parted in a low, guttural moan, her bound hands pulling slightly against the ropes as the Sybian’s pulsations grew more insistent. Each small movement from Ningning sent the chain between them tugging at her clamps, adding a sharp, delicious edge to the vibrations that rippled through her body. “Mmm… it’s so much,” she managed to whisper, her voice thick with need.

The clamps acted as a bridge between them, magnifying every tremor and shudder. A twitch from one sent a wave of sensation to the other, binding them in an intimate, inescapable loop of shared pleasure. Ningning’s moans grew louder as she struggled to keep still, the vibrations and the relentless pull of the chain driving her closer to the edge. “Ahh… I can’t… it’s too much…” she whimpered, her voice a mix of desperation and exhilaration.

Giselle, no longer able to hold back, let out a trembling cry as the chain tugged at her again, her body arching against the device. “Oh… oh god… please…” she gasped, the rhythmic pulsations of the Sybian combining with the clamps’ steady pressure to push her closer to surrender.

Ningning’s breath hitched, her chest rising and falling as her body quivered beneath the mounting waves of pleasure. The air around her was thick, carrying the faint, musky scent of arousal mingled with the warmth of their shared exertion. Her thighs trembled against the velvety surface of the Sybian, the vibrations resonating deep within her, coaxing her closer to the edge with every relentless pulse. The clamps connecting her to Giselle tugged lightly with each subtle movement, a sharp yet tantalizing sting that tethered her pleasure to her partner’s.

Her breaths turned ragged, a series of shallow gasps punctuated by moans that grew louder as her climax approached. The sting of the clamps, now warmed by her flushed skin, was a constant reminder of her vulnerability and connection. Each breath carried a faint sweetness, the room’s ambient scent laced with the unmistakable notes of sweat and arousal that hung heavily in the air. It was intoxicating, enveloping her senses as she surrendered to the rising tide of sensation.

Giselle, seated opposite her, was equally enraptured. She watched Ningning with wide, glassy eyes, her own body responding to every tremor that traveled through the chain between them. The faint jingle of the silver links with every motion sent shocks of stimulation to her oversensitive peaks. The sight of Ningning on the brink—her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, her moans rising in pitch—only pushed Giselle closer to her own edge. The sharp, metallic tang of the clamps against her skin mixed with the faint musk in the air, creating a sensory symphony that heightened the intimacy of their shared experience.

Ningning’s body tensed, her muscles tightening as the vibrations reached a crescendo, the pleasure building to a point where she could no longer contain it. Her hips bucked instinctively, the Sybian beneath her humming relentlessly against her swollen lips. The sensation was maddening, a sweet torment that stole her breath. The tug of the clamps against her nipples sent shockwaves that echoed through her chest, amplifying every pulse of the machine beneath her.

Finally, with a choked cry, Ningning tumbled over the edge. Her climax erupted in a cascade of pure, unbridled ecstasy, the pleasure radiating outward in waves that seemed to reach every nerve ending in her body. Her back arched sharply, her bound hands pulling against the ropes as she cried out, her voice raw and guttural. The room echoed with her cries, the sound rich with the depth of her release. A sheen of sweat glistened on her skin, the heat of her orgasm suffusing her body with an electric warmth.

But her climax triggered an unexpected reaction. As she convulsed in pleasure, her body shifted slightly, pulling against the chain that bound her to Giselle. The sudden tug on the clamps sent a searing sting through Giselle’s sensitive peaks, forcing a sharp intake of breath. “Ahh—!” The pain, brief and sharp, acted as a spark, igniting the overwhelming pleasure already coursing through her. The sudden shift from the sharp edge of sensation to the deep pulse of pleasure tipped her over the brink.

Giselle’s climax hit her like a bolt of lightning, her body convulsing as the pleasure surged through her like an unstoppable current. Her thighs clenched against the Sybian, her toes curling as waves of ecstasy consumed her. “Oh… oh my god!” she cried, her voice breaking into gasps as her muscles tightened and released in rhythm with the machine’s relentless vibrations. Her bound wrists strained slightly against the ropes as her body arched, her head tilting back as she surrendered fully to the storm of sensation.

The chain between them continued to shift, transferring the echoes of their climaxes back and forth. Each shudder from one sent a tremor to the other, keeping the intensity alive, binding them in an intimate dance of shared release. The air was thick with their moans and cries, the scent of sweat and arousal mingling with the faint metallic tang of the clamps and the warmth of their bodies.

As the waves of their orgasms ebbed, both women collapsed against the Sybians, their bodies trembling from the aftershocks. Their breaths came in short, uneven gasps, their flushed skin glowing in the golden light of the room. Ningning’s head lolled forward, her damp hair clinging to her forehead as she let out a soft, breathy laugh. “I… I can’t believe that…” she murmured, her voice trembling with exhaustion and satisfaction.

Giselle let out a weak chuckle in response, her body still tingling as she struggled to catch her breath. “That was… oh my god…” she whispered, her words trailing off into a soft sigh.

You approached with a quiet calm, your hands steady as you began to remove the clamps. Ningning flinched slightly as the pressure released, a gasp escaping her lips as the blood rushed back to the nubs. Giselle let out a low whimper as her clamps were removed, the absence of the sting leaving behind a bittersweet ache. The chain clinked softly as you set it aside, the delicate links gleaming under the light.

The room was silent for a moment, save for their heavy breathing. The faint scent of sweat and musk lingered in the air, a reminder of the intensity they had just shared. Slowly, you helped them off the Sybians, their legs shaky as they stood on unsteady feet. Their gazes met briefly, and in that moment, they shared a wordless connection—one of trust, vulnerability, and the profound bond forged through their shared journey.

The air is heavy with the scent of perfume mingled with the musky, unmistakable aroma of arousal, amplifying the intimacy of the moment. Your voice broke the silence, steady and inviting. “This entire evening began because there were questions. Uncertainties. I think it’s time we find some unforgettable answers.”

With a gesture, you beckoned them to follow. They obeyed, their movements tentative but eager as they stepped into the next space, their trust in you palpable.

The room they entered was a world unto itself, bathed in a soft, golden light that seemed to cast everything in a sensual glow. Shadows played along the walls, which were adorned with subtle, tasteful art hinting at themes of connection and exploration. The centerpiece of the room was the table—an object both functional and artful. It was designed with purpose, offering support and exposure in equal measure. Its smooth, cool surface gleamed under the light, and the padded leg rests positioned on either side made its intent unmistakable.

The air was cooler here, brushing against their bare skin as you gestured for them to move toward the table. The change in temperature heightened their awareness of every inch of their exposed bodies.

With their hands still securely tied behind their backs, you stepped closer, offering calm guidance. “Let me help you,” you murmured, your voice steady but soft. You lifted Ningning first, your hands firm but gentle as you supported her waist and carried her toward the edge of the table. She let out a soft gasp as her thighs brushed the cool surface. With care, you guided her legs into the padded rests on either side of the table. The gentle pressure of the rests spread her legs deliberately, leaving her fully exposed while providing enough support to keep her stable. Her bound hands rested against her lower back, the ropes pressing lightly into her skin as she adjusted to the vulnerable pose. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, her arousal evident in the faint tremble of her body.

Next, you turned to Giselle, offering the same care and precision. Her flushed cheeks deepened in color as you approached, her gaze flicking briefly to Ningning before meeting yours. Without protest, she allowed you to lift her, her body pliant under your hands as you settled her beside Ningning. You guided her legs into the rests, positioning her with equal care. The deliberate spread of her thighs mirrored Ningning’s, the padded supports keeping her comfortably stable despite the exposure. The ropes binding her wrists brushed against her back, grounding her in the moment as her breathing quickened. A soft shiver passed through her as she adjusted to the position, the coolness of the table contrasting sharply with the heat blooming across her body.

The leg rests left them both completely open, their flushed folds glistening in the soft light with evidence of their earlier arousal. Their slightly reclined positions and bound wrists emphasized their vulnerability, making them acutely aware of their own exposure. The design of the table kept them secure yet unrestricted, every detail thoughtfully crafted to heighten their sensitivity.

Their gazes met across the table, their expressions a mix of embarrassment and curiosity, with undeniable arousal flickering in their eyes. The leg rests not only positioned them perfectly but also ensured they could see one another clearly—every curve, every trembling breath, every glisten of their shared vulnerability. This perspective forced them to confront not only their own openness but also the beauty of the other, creating a charged intimacy that crackled between them.

“Good,” you said softly, stepping back to take in the sight before you. Their spread legs, the sheen of sweat on their skin, and the soft flush painting their cheeks created a stunning tableau. “You’re both perfect like this.”

The praise sent visible shivers through their bodies, their breathing deepening as they settled into the moment. The tension in the room was palpable, each subtle movement and soft exhale amplifying the anticipation that enveloped them. The deliberate positioning, the careful exposure, and the warmth of your voice wrapped around them, leaving them completely immersed in the present.

From a nearby table, you reached for two butt plugs, their sleek surfaces already glistening with a generous coating of lubricant. The subtle gleam of the objects caught the soft light, drawing their attention. Your gaze flickered over both women as you held the plugs in your hands, your movements deliberate and calculated.

Starting with Giselle, you stepped beside her. Her bound hands rested behind her lower back, her body tense with anticipation. “Relax,” you murmured, your voice calm and soothing. Your hand rested firmly on the curve of her hip, grounding her as you brought the tip of the plug to her back entrance. The coolness of the metal met her warm, flushed skin, and she inhaled sharply, her body stiffening momentarily before yielding.

Her tight ring fluttered under the gentle pressure, the initial resistance giving way as you eased the plug inside with slow, deliberate movements. The sensation was unfamiliar but not unwelcome—a mix of stretch and fullness that sent a shiver through her. Giselle’s breathing quickened, a low moan slipping from her lips as her body adjusted. The weight of the plug settled deeply within her, the sensation of being filled creating a pulse of heat that spread to her core.

From her position, Ningning watched intently, her wide eyes fixed on the sight of the plug slipping into Giselle’s body. The intimacy of the moment left Ningning trembling, her lips parting as her own arousal deepened. A soft whimper escaped her, her thighs quivering as she anticipated her turn.

Giselle exhaled shakily as the plug settled fully into place, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson and her thighs trembling with the effort of holding still. “Good girl,” you murmured, your voice rich with approval. The tension in her shoulders eased, her body relaxing as she adjusted to the sensation. A soft moan escaped her lips, the fullness bringing a strange but exhilarating pleasure.

Turning your attention to Ningning, you moved beside her. Unlike Giselle, her body tensed visibly as you brought the plug to her entrance. Her tight ring quivered under the cool touch of the metal, her breaths quick and uneven. “Breathe,” you instructed gently, your free hand stroking the small of her back in soothing circles. “Relax. Let your body accept it.”

Ningning whimpered softly, her body resisting at first, but she focused on your voice, her breaths coming in slower, measured waves. With patient care, you applied gentle, consistent pressure, coaxing her to open for you. “That’s it,” you murmured, your tone low and encouraging. “You’re doing so well.”

Finally, with a soft, wet sound, the plug slipped inside, settling into place with a quick plop. Ningning gasped sharply, her body jerking slightly as she adjusted to the intrusion. The sensation was intense—a stretching, filling heat that left her trembling. Her head tilted forward, her cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. As she focused on her breathing, the tension in her muscles softened, and the unfamiliar weight of the plug began to sink in, igniting a low, persistent heat deep within her.

From across the table, Giselle’s gaze met Ningning’s, her lips parting in a small, knowing smile. The shared vulnerability in their expressions created an unspoken bond, their arousal deepening as they took in the sight of one another.

As their eyes lingered on each other, the plugs within them seemed to pulse in response to the visual stimulation. Ningning’s lips trembled as the subtle throb of fullness radiated through her, amplifying the heat already pooling between her thighs. Giselle’s cheeks flushed darker as her breathing quickened, the sensation of the plug sending shivers up her spine at the sight of Ningning’s wet folds and trembling thighs. Their bodies reacted in tandem, the intimacy of their shared position heightening the sensations coursing through them.

“Perfect,” you said, stepping back to admire the tableau before you. The sight of their flushed bodies, the plugs nestled snugly within them, and the glistening evidence of their arousal was nothing short of mesmerizing.

Your hands moved with purpose, brushing lightly along their inner thighs. The contrast of your warm skin against their cool flesh drew gasps from both of them, their hips shifting instinctively at the sensation. Ningning’s thighs quivered as she felt her wetness slick against her skin, while Giselle bit her lower lip to stifle a moan, her body trembling under your touch.

“Trust me to take you where you’ve never been before,” you said, your tone calm but firm, your presence a steady anchor in the storm of sensations flooding their bodies.

They nodded in unison, their gazes flicking briefly to the other’s exposed, flushed sex before returning to you. The sight of one another—the swollen, glistening evidence of their shared arousal and the plugs nestled intimately within—intensified their responses. Ningning’s lips parted, her breathing quick and shallow, as her hips lifted slightly, her arousal pooling beneath her. Giselle’s legs trembled visibly, her hands twitching faintly in their bindings as she struggled to maintain her position. The unspoken connection between them bound them tighter than any rope, their shared vulnerability becoming an electric force in the room.

You stood like a shadow of command, donned in sleek black gloves that seemed to absorb the dim light rather than reflect it. Every movement was deliberate, precise, as if you were an enigmatic conductor preparing to orchestrate a symphony of sensations. 

The room, bathed in a soft, ambient glow, felt alive with anticipation. The air was thick, a heady mix of warmth and the faint, musky scent of arousal that clung to the participants like a second skin. Every breath was heavier, every sound amplified, from the soft creak of the table to the slight rustle of fabric. Giselle and Ningning knelt in vulnerable expectation, their flushed faces glistening faintly in the subdued light, their eyes locked on you with a mixture of trepidation and eager surrender.

With the gloves flexing against your fingers, you moved closer, your gaze sharp and intent. “We’re raising the stakes,” you murmured, your voice low and commanding, sending a ripple of tension through the room. They watched, their lips parting as their breathing quickened, aware that the next moments would challenge their boundaries further.

The new clamps gleamed faintly in your hand, they’re longer, more elaborate designs promising a deeper sensation. You approached Ningning first, your gloved hand brushing over the soft, flushed curve of her breast as she let out a shaky breath. The room seemed to hold its breath as you secured the first clamp, the cool metal biting lightly into her sensitive peak. A soft gasp escaped her lips, the sting sharp but intoxicating, her body responding with a subtle shiver as the clamp tightened.

Giselle was next, her body tensing momentarily before she exhaled slowly, her chest rising toward your touch as you affixed the clamp to her. The device closed over her nipple with a firm click, its grip sending a wave of warmth radiating from the point of contact. Her lips parted as a low moan slipped out, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as she adjusted to the sensation.

But the clamps alone weren’t your final act. With calculated precision, you introduced a weight suspended delicately between them, its polished surface gleaming faintly in the soft light. The fine rope connecting the clamps grew taut as the weight hung in balance, a silent promise of the delicate interplay between pleasure and pain. The shift in pressure elicited a duet of gasps from the two women, their bodies adjusting instinctively to the new, heavier sensation.

You weren’t finished. From your pocket, you produced two pairs of panties—the same ones they had given you earlier, now slightly crumpled but still heavy with the dampness of their earlier passion. The delicate fabric, saturated with their arousal, carried a potent, lingering scent that filled the air as you held them up. The sight alone made both women’s eyes widen, their breaths hitching as they recognized their most intimate garments.

Instead of returning the panties to their respective owners, you swapped them. Ningning’s panties, still soaked, were brought to Giselle’s lips. The soft fabric brushed against her mouth, the dampness transferring a hint of warmth to her flushed skin. Giselle opened obediently, her tongue grazing the material as she accepted it, her lips closing tightly around the fabric. A muffled moan escaped her, her cheeks darkening as the heady taste of Ningning’s arousal filled her senses.

Next, Giselle’s panties were turned toward Ningning. The sight made Ningning’s lips tremble, her gaze darting toward Giselle briefly before parting her mouth. The damp fabric slipped inside, brushing against her tongue and flooding her senses with the musky essence of her partner. A soft whimper escaped her, muffled by the gag as her thighs quivered against the table. The mingling sensations of taste, texture, and the intimate act itself sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through her body, leaving her breathless.

But you weren’t done. With calculated precision, you retrieved a fine rope and tied it securely to the weight that hung between their clamps. The other end of the rope was looped through the panties now acting as their gags, the tension creating a delicate balance. The setup ensured that the weight’s position depended entirely on their ability to keep the fabric held firmly in place with their mouths.

“Hold it,” you instructed, your voice calm but firm, commanding their full attention. “If you let go, the clamps will pull free. The choice is yours.”

The weight of your words sank in immediately. Their glossy eyes darted to the rope, then to each other, wide with a mixture of trepidation and arousal. A silent understanding passed between them, their bodies tensing as they adjusted to this new layer of challenge. Both nodded, their muffled breaths quickening as they accepted the stakes.

Ningning was the first to react, her thighs trembling as she tried to maintain her composure. The subtle pull of the weight tugged at her sensitive nipples, the clamps intensifying every small motion. Each jolt of sensation sent ripples of pleasure and sharp stings coursing through her, her muffled whimpers growing louder as she fought to steady herself. The fabric in her mouth teased her tongue, the lingering taste of Giselle’s arousal adding an almost surreal intimacy to her predicament.

Giselle fared no better, though she held herself with a fraction more control. She bit down firmly on the soft, damp fabric of Ningning’s panties, her lips tightening as the weight swayed faintly between them. Every movement created a delicate tension that sent sharp, electrifying pulses through her clamps. The stinging pleasure spread across her chest and down to her core, each shift adding to the heat pooling between her thighs. Her muffled moans were low and throaty, her breaths coming in shallow bursts as her body fought to adapt to the exquisite torment.

The air in the room grew thicker, heavy with the mingling scents of their arousal and the faint metallic tang of the clamps. The ambient lighting cast golden shadows on their trembling forms, highlighting every quiver, every subtle motion. Their glistening folds, slick with evidence of their arousal, shone under the warm light, small beads of moisture trailing down their inner thighs.

You stepped back slightly, your hands folded behind your back, watching with quiet satisfaction as the weight swayed gently between them. Every tremor in their bodies, every muffled moan, sent ripples of shared sensation through the taut rope, binding them together in a fragile but electric equilibrium. The rope connecting their mouths to the clamps created a symphony of tension—each motion resonating through their bodies, amplifying the moment.

“Beautiful,” you said softly, your tone filled with calm approval.

They responded with muffled moans, the vibrations resonating through the soaked fabric of their gags. Ningning’s hips shifted slightly, her thighs trembling as her arousal continued to build, pooling beneath her. A bead of moisture slipped down her inner thigh, drawing a low, muffled whimper from her lips. Giselle’s chest heaved as she focused on steadying her breath, her body shivering with each pull of the clamps, her muffled cries blending harmoniously with Ningning’s.

With the stage perfectly set, you turned your attention to the vibrators resting in your gloved hands. The sleek, smooth surfaces glinted faintly in the ambient light as your fingers moved over them with a deliberate precision, each motion infused with purpose. For a moment, there was a hush, a reverent stillness, as you prepared for the next act of this intimate composition.

You stepped closer, the faint hum of the weight’s sway and the soft rustle of rope filling the room. Giselle and Ningning’s flushed bodies trembled in anticipation, their gags muffling their shallow breaths as their glossy eyes darted between you and the objects in your hands. Their legs spread wider, their glistening folds exposed to the cool air, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from their cores.

With exquisite care, you placed the vibrators on the outer lips of their eager sexes, the cold touch of the devices drawing gasps from both women. Ningning shuddered visibly, her thighs quivering as the initial contact sent ripples of sensation through her. Giselle’s hips twitched slightly, her muffled whimper vibrating through the fabric in her mouth. The vibrators rested there like poised instruments, their presence a tantalizing promise.

Then, with a flick of your fingers, you brought the devices to life. The vibrators hummed softly at first, their song blending seamlessly with the tension-charged air. The sound resonated not just in the room but seemed to echo deep within the women’s cores, a prelude to the symphony you were carefully crafting.

The first waves of vibration were subtle but insistent, coaxing their bodies into movement. Ningning arched slightly, a muffled cry escaping her as the gentle pulsing teased her sensitive lips. Giselle exhaled sharply through her gag, her chest heaving as she adjusted to the sensations coursing through her. Their reactions were immediate, their hips shifting involuntarily as the vibrators’ rhythm built slowly.

With deft adjustments, you increased the intensity. The hum deepened, growing richer and more resonant, filling the space with its intoxicating song. The vibrations now pulsed in steady waves, syncing with the rhythm of the girls’ trembling bodies. Their breaths became shallow, the rise and fall of their chests mirroring the unrelenting tempo of the devices. Giselle’s moans grew louder, muffled yet urgent, as her hips pressed closer to the source of her pleasure. Ningning’s hands gripped the edges of the table, her knuckles white as her body strained against the ropes and clamps that bound her.

Your gaze never wavered, every detail of their responses etched into your awareness. You adjusted the settings with the precision of a seasoned conductor, attuned to the smallest shifts in their cries, the slightest quiver of their thighs. The vibrators pulsed harder, their relentless rhythm sending jolts of pleasure through their already overstimulated bodies. The once-quiet room now echoed with the melody of their muffled cries and the low, persistent hum of the devices, the sound forming an uninhibited symphony of desire.

The crescendo built steadily, the tension between them palpable. Their flushed folds glistened with arousal, the vibrations drawing out a slick warmth that heightened the intensity of every sensation. The scent of their musk filled the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of the clamps and the subtle perfume lingering in the room. The heady aroma wrapped around them, amplifying the connection between mind and body.

As the devices continued their tireless pressure, you introduced a new layer to the symphony. Your gloved hands began a slow, deliberate journey along the insides of their thighs. The cool material of the gloves brushed against their overheated skin, the contrast sending shivers rippling through them. Ningning whimpered, her gag stifling the sound as her legs quaked under your touch. Giselle’s hips jerked involuntarily, her body seeking the pressure she so desperately needed.

Your fingertips danced along their sensitive skin, tracing the delicate curves of their inner thighs. Each caress was maddeningly gentle, a featherlight tease that left them yearning for more. The touch wasn’t enough to satisfy—it was a whisper of contact that promised release but kept it tantalizingly out of reach. The fine rope connecting their gags to the weight pulled taut with every movement, adding an extra layer of tension to their predicament.

Giselle’s hips twitched again, her body betraying her need for more. Her thighs clenched briefly, only to relax as the vibrations overwhelmed her once again. Ningning moaned softly around her gag, the sound vibrating through the fabric as her head tilted back, her eyes fluttering closed. Her fingers curled tighter against the table, her entire body stretched taut with unfulfilled desire.

Then, with a swift, decisive motion, your gloved fingers plunged into the molten heat of each woman, their slick arousal enveloping you as their bodies reacted immediately to the sudden intrusion. Giselle let out a shocked, muffled gasp, her back arching against the tension of the clamps. Ningning followed with a deeper, guttural moan, her hips jerking as her walls clenched tightly around your fingers.

“Ahhh… mmmph!” Giselle whimpered, her voice muffled by the fabric in her mouth, her thighs trembling as she adjusted to the dual onslaught of your fingers and the relentless hum of the vibrators.

“Mmm… ohhh,” Ningning cried, the panties in her mouth softening her desperate moans. Her body trembled violently, the tension in her thighs visible as she tried to hold steady against the overwhelming sensations.

Your hands worked with calculated precision, thrusting and curling in perfect harmony with the relentless rhythm of the vibrators. Every movement was deliberate, each touch aimed at stoking the fires within them. The wet, rhythmic sound of your thrusts mingled with their muffled cries and the hum of the vibrators, creating an erotic symphony that filled the room.

The air was thick with the scent of arousal, a heady musk mingled with the faint metallic tang of the clamps. Each breath was heavier, laden with anticipation and desire. The clamps tugged faintly with every motion, the delicate chains swaying and adding a constant sting that heightened their already overstimulated senses.

“Look at each other,” you whispered, your tone low but commanding, cutting through the haze of their ragged breathing. “See the ecstasy on your faces. This is real, and it’s happening to both of you.”

Their gazes lifted, hesitant and hazy with arousal, before locking onto one another. Giselle’s flushed cheeks and glazed eyes mirrored the same overwhelmed passion radiating from Ningning. In that shared moment, they saw themselves reflected in the other—the trembling thighs, the arch of their backs, the unrestrained pleasure in their moans.

“Mmm… Unnie…” Ningning whimpered, her voice muffled but still carrying the raw intensity of her feelings.

Giselle’s own muffled response came as her lips pressed tighter around the fabric, her eyes locking onto Ningning’s. “Mmm… you look… so good…” she moaned, her hips shifting as your fingers curled again, finding the spot that made her tremble uncontrollably.

The sight of each other—flushed, vulnerable, and writhing in synchronized bliss—heightened their arousal to dizzying heights. Their muffled cries grew louder, mingling as they surrendered completely to the sensations.

Your fingers moved with an intuitive rhythm, delving into their cores with the precision of an artist sculpting a masterpiece. The pads of your fingers grazed over their most sensitive spots, curling to press against hidden nerves that made their bodies jerk and spasm. When your thumb brushed over Ningning’s swollen nub, her body jolted, her muffled cry vibrating through her gag.

“Ahhh—ohhh!” she whimpered, her thighs trembling as the dual sensations pushed her closer to the edge. Her walls clenched tightly around your fingers, the slick heat enveloping you in a way that made each motion fluid and electrifying.

Giselle wasn’t far behind. The relentless thrusting and curling of your fingers sent waves of ecstasy radiating through her. “Mmmph… don’t stop!” she moaned, her voice vibrating against the fabric. Her body arched, her hips bucking involuntarily as she chased the release that was tantalizingly close.

The clamps tugged with every movement, the sharp sting blending seamlessly with the relentless pleasure coursing through their bodies. The vibrators pulsed harder, their rhythm unrelenting, and the room was alive with the symphony of muffled moans, gasps, and the slick sounds of your fingers working them toward their breaking points.

Their gazes remained locked, the intensity of their connection building with every shared moan and cry. They weren’t just watching each other—they were mirroring, feeling the same overwhelming sensations, tethered not just by the clamps and chains but by the raw intimacy of their shared experience.

“Don’t look away,” you murmured, your voice both commanding and soothing. “Stay with each other. Feel this together.”

Their cries grew more desperate, their bodies trembling violently as the crescendo neared. Each thrust of your fingers, each pulse of the vibrators, brought them closer to the inevitable. The moment hung in the air, electric and heavy, as their bodies teetered on the edge of release. The symphony of their pleasure filled the room, their connection deepening as they surrendered to the shared ecstasy.

Giselle, her once porcelain skin now glowing with vivid hues of arousal, was the first to succumb. The vibrator pressed firmly against her wet sex relentlessly, the rhythm an unyielding assault that synced perfectly with the precise thrusts and curls of your gloved fingers. Each calculated movement was designed to draw her closer to the edge, her body reacting with a raw, uncontrollable urgency. Her thighs trembled visibly, muscles quivering with the effort to hold still as her hips instinctively sought more pressure, more friction. The soft, relentless buzz of the vibrator sent deep, reverberating pulses through her core, unraveling her composure thread by thread.

Her breathing was uneven, sharp gasps escaping her parted lips as the waves of sensation coursed through her. Her chest heaved, the rise and fall of her breaths drawing attention to the beads of sweat trailing down her flushed skin. Each shiver, each arch of her back, was a testament to the unrelenting pleasure building within her.

Across from her, Ningning moaned softly against the gag between her lips, her muffled cries carrying an edge of desperation. The relentless rhythm of the vibrator pressed against her own slick folds mirrored Giselle’s torment, while your fingers worked her just as masterfully. Yet, even as her body writhed and arched under your touch, her gaze was fixed on Giselle. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from her partner’s unraveling—the way Giselle’s thighs quivered, her hips bucked, and her flushed cheeks glistened in the dim light.

The sight sent a jolt of shock and anticipation coursing through Ningning, heightening her own arousal. She whimpered against the gag, her muffled voice a mixture of awe and need as she watched Giselle’s mounting climax unfold. The connection between them—the shared vulnerability, the mirrored sensations—made every moment more intense, every touch and vibration more profound.

Giselle’s moans grew louder, sharper, her hips rocking desperately as she teetered on the brink. Her breaths turned shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly as every muscle in her core pulled taut. The vibrator’s relentless hum dug deeper into her, and the precise thrusts of your fingers coaxed her closer and closer to release. Her body trembled violently, the tension building to an unbearable peak, so unbearable that…

She screamed.

It was raw, primal, and utterly unrestrained. The sound tore through the room like a thunderclap, shattering the fragile equilibrium and reverberating off the walls. The force of Giselle’s scream was so visceral, so forceful, that it dislodged the gag from her lips. The damp fabric fell away, dragging the taut rope with it.

The weight plummeted instantly, yanking the clamps from their places in one brutal, unrelenting motion. The sharp metallic clatter of the clamps hitting the table punctuated the moment, a harsh counterpoint to Giselle’s piercing cry. Her head snapped back, her body arching violently as the pain hit—a fiery, stinging jolt that lanced through her sensitive peaks.

The sudden movement caused the plug nestled inside her to shift, pressing deeper against her inner walls. The fullness was maddening, its weight tugging slightly with each convulsion of her body, adding a new layer of sensation that bordered on overwhelming. The plug pulsed with her every breath, each subtle motion an exquisite mix of pleasure and pressure that amplified the storm raging through her body.

Across from her, Ningning’s muffled cry of surprise transformed into a full-throated scream as the clamps tore from her nipples. The sudden, searing pain ripped through her chest, sending her body into a spasmodic convulsion. Her eyes flew wide, tears pooling at the corners as the shock merged seamlessly with the relentless pleasure from the vibrator and your skilled fingers. The plug nestled deep within her shifted with her movements, its girth pressing insistently against her sensitive inner walls. The sensation was inescapable—filling her completely, intensifying the uncontrollable quaking of her thighs.

Ningning’s body trembled as the sensation of fullness took hold, her muscles contracting around the plug as her hips bucked instinctively. Each motion sent it pressing against new nerve endings, the lubed surface gliding effortlessly but unrelentingly with every shift. Her breath hitched, a mix of sharp whimpers and guttural moans spilling from her lips as the combination of the vibrator, your touch, and the unyielding presence of the plug became too much.

The room was alive with their screams, their voices colliding and amplifying in the charged air. The sharp, fiery pain of the clamps’ removal didn’t detract from the pleasure—it magnified it, adding an edge that sent their senses into overdrive. Their trembling thighs pressed against the relentless buzz of the vibrators, their hips bucking uncontrollably as the sensations overwhelmed them. The plugs, nestled deep inside, provided a constant reminder of their complete surrender, amplifying every vibration, every contraction, every spasm of their bodies.

Their bodies convulsed violently, each arch and shudder a testament to the overwhelming collision of pain and pleasure. Their swollen, oversensitized peaks throbbed with every heartbeat, the absence of the clamps leaving their nerves exposed and ablaze. The plugs moved subtly with their contractions, nudging against sensitive spots that sent new waves of sensation coursing through them, adding depth to their uncontrollable responses.

The symphony of their cries filled the room, a raw and primal testament to the depth of their shared experience. Their voices echoed, weaving together into a cacophony of desperation and release, each sound layering onto the next. Their shared screams became the crescendo, building to the inevitable climax that would consume them both.

And then it happened.

You felt it first in the way their bodies tensed—a subtle tightening of their cores, an instinctive reaction as their climaxes surged forward like an unstoppable tide. The plugs inside them seemed to magnify the tension, each subtle movement adding to their unraveling. Their walls pulsed around your fingers and the unyielding plugs, gripping tightly in a telltale rhythm that signaled their impending eruption. Recognizing the moment, you withdrew your hands with deliberate speed, ensuring nothing obstructed the force of their release.

The dam within them burst, and from their cores erupted a torrent of liquid ecstasy. They squirted—streams of warm, clear fluid arcing through the air, an undeniable declaration of their release. The sight was mesmerizing, a luminous display of their bodies’ raw, unfiltered response. Each spurt carried the weight of their shared passion, the vulnerability of the moment laid bare in every glistening arc.

The liquid splashed against their trembling bodies, the warm essence coating their exposed, flushed sexes. The heat of their release mingled with the lingering vibrations of the devices, amplifying the intensity of their sensations. Ningning let out a choked gasp, her moan raw and unrestrained as her thighs quivered violently. The plug inside her seemed to amplify the sensation, pressing firmly as her body convulsed, each spasm sending it moving just enough to heighten her ecstasy.

Their streams weren’t contained to their bodies alone. The arcing jets crossed the space between them, spraying each other’s thighs and stomachs in a chaotic, sensual cascade. Ningning’s release splattered against Giselle’s trembling skin, streaking her flushed chest and dripping down her abdomen in warm rivulets. Giselle’s own torrent painted Ningning’s heaving stomach and thighs, droplets clinging to her glistening skin before sliding away in teasing trails.

The sheer force of their release left the table beneath them soaked, glistening with the evidence of their climaxes. Each surge seemed more powerful than the last, their bodies responding with an intensity that even you hadn’t fully anticipated. For a moment, you found yourself taken aback, a faint flicker of surprise passing through your otherwise composed demeanor as the sheer volume of their shared ecstasy unfolded before you.

The sprays didn’t stop at their bodies. Streams arced further than expected, warm droplets landing on the floor, the surrounding table, and even your arms as you steadied yourself near them. Some of their essence reached their faces, warm, saline splashes landing on lips and cheeks. Giselle’s tongue darted out instinctively, catching a droplet of Ningning’s release and tasting the faintly salty intimacy of their shared moment. Ningning, wide-eyed and trembling, whimpered as she felt the same—her tongue brushing against her lips and meeting the unmistakable flavor of Giselle’s climax. It wasn’t just a connection; it was a visceral, undeniable bond that transcended words.

Their bodies quivered uncontrollably, each wave of pleasure rolling through them in relentless succession. Giselle’s thighs quaked as her hips bucked against the relentless echoes of her climax, her hands gripping the edges of the table as though to anchor herself. Ningning, her cheeks streaked with her own release and Giselle’s, let out a soft, broken moan, her body trembling as the final spasms left her utterly spent.

The cries they let out echoed through the room, raw and primal, the acoustics amplifying every gasp and moan into a symphony of passion. The unrestrained music of their climaxes filled every corner, a harmony of desperation and release that seemed to resonate beyond the walls. Each sound, each trembling shudder wove together into a tapestry of sensory overload, a shared expression of the overwhelming pleasure that consumed them.

Even as their streams began to wane, smaller bursts continued to spatter against their already soaked skin. Ningning’s thighs were slick with her own release, her essence mingling with Giselle’s in a chaotic, intoxicating display of vulnerability and pleasure. Giselle’s chest heaved as she took in shuddering breaths, her flushed skin shimmering in the golden light as trails of liquid traced down her stomach and thighs.

Finally, the torrents subsided, leaving their glistening bodies sprawled and trembling. The table beneath them was slick, the evidence of their shared climaxes pooling in small rivulets that dripped to the floor. The air hung heavy with the heady, musky perfume of their arousal, the scent a tangible reminder of the intimacy they had just shared.

The stillness of the room was broken only by the sound of their shallow breaths. Giselle and Ningning lay limp, their flushed bodies trembling faintly as they came down from the intensity of their shared release. The faint sheen of sweat and evidence of their climax clung to their skin, a vivid testament to the raw passion they had just experienced.

You stepped closer, your movements deliberate and soothing, your presence grounding them in the aftermath of what had just transpired. Slowly, you reached down to Giselle first, your hand brushing lightly over her lower back as you murmured, “Breathe and relax.” Carefully, you began to ease the plug from her, the gentle but firm motion drawing a soft gasp from her lips as her tight ring fluttered around the intrusion. As the plug slipped free with a quiet pop, a small dribble escaped her slick folds, trailing down her trembling thighs. Giselle shivered at the sensation as she adjusted to the absence.

You took a moment, letting her breathe as you moved to her bound wrists. “You’ve done so well,” you said softly, untying the ropes with practiced care. As her arms were freed, she let out a small sigh of relief, her muscles trembling from the strain but grateful for the release. Her hands rested limply on her lap for a moment before she slowly began to flex her fingers, her expression a mix of exhaustion and contentment.

Turning to Ningning, you repeated the process, your hand resting reassuringly on her hip. “Easy,” you said gently, your voice a calming balm. Ningning’s body tensed slightly at first, her breaths uneven, but with your steady guidance, the plug slid free. A soft, wet sound accompanied its removal, and a glistening bead of arousal followed, slipping down to pool beneath her. She let out a shaky whimper, her cheeks burning with renewed embarrassment as she tried to steady herself.

You placed the plug aside before reaching for the ropes binding her hands. “Relax, Ningning,” you murmured, your fingers deftly working to undo the knots. Her hands fell free, her wrists showing faint marks from the ropes, though there was no discomfort in her expression—only a quiet, lingering warmth. She flexed her fingers tentatively, her gaze flicking toward yours with a dazed but grateful look.

For a moment, you let them rest, their bodies too spent to move. You crouched beside them, brushing damp strands of hair from their flushed faces, your touch gentle and grounding. Giselle tilted her head into your hand slightly, her eyes fluttering closed as if savoring the brief comfort. Ningning blinked up at you, her expression dazed but filled with quiet gratitude, her lips parting as though she wanted to speak but couldn’t yet find the words.

“Well done,” you murmured softly, your tone a mix of praise and reassurance. The weight of the moment lingered, heavy with intimacy and trust, as you let them bask in the quiet aftermath.

Finally, after a few beats of stillness, you straightened and offered your hands to each of them. “Come on,” you said, your voice steady but warm. “Let’s get you up.”

Giselle and Ningning each took your hand, their fingers weakly gripping yours as you helped them sit upright. Both winced slightly, the overstimulation evident in the soft, breathy gasps that escaped their lips. When they swung their legs over the edge of the table, they faltered, their knees wobbling beneath them as they tried to stand. You supported them gently, your hands steadying their arms as they leaned against you for balance, their bodies still trembling from the intensity of their shared experience.

“Whoa…” Ningning muttered, clutching your arm for balance. Giselle let out a shaky laugh as she leaned into you for support, her body still trembling. “I don’t think I can walk straight for a week,” she said, her voice light but still breathless.

“Take your time,” you assured them, your hands steadying their arms as they slowly found their footing. Once they were upright, you stepped back, giving them a moment to adjust.

“Thank you,” Giselle said, her voice soft but sincere, her cheeks flushed not just from exertion but from a lingering sense of awe. Ningning nodded in agreement, her lips curving into a faint, grateful smile as she echoed, “Yeah… thank you.”

Ningning turned her head slightly, her half-lidded eyes catching Giselle’s. A faint, breathless laugh escaped her lips. “That… was incredible,” she murmured, her voice shaky but filled with awe. Giselle, still catching her breath, managed a soft smile, her cheeks deepening in color as she nodded in agreement. Words seemed insufficient, the intensity of the moment lingering between them, heavy and unspoken.

You stepped forward, your movements deliberate but calming, your voice soft yet firm. “You’ve both done wonderfully,” you said, your tone carrying an unmistakable note of pride. “It’s over now. You’ve experienced all you came for.”

The words hung in the air, settling over them like the final note of a beautiful symphony. For a moment, both women seemed to process the finality, their breaths still uneven, their flushed faces reflecting a mixture of contentment and loss. An emptiness where the intensity had burned now lingered in its place, raw and unfamiliar. They exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them, before Ningning spoke, her voice hesitant but filled with newfound boldness.

“I don’t want it to be over,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing deeper as she struggled to maintain eye contact. “I don’t even know how to describe how I feel right now, but I want… more.”

Giselle nodded, her voice low but steady. “You’ve given us something unforgettable. We want to thank you—properly. Not just with words.”

Your eyebrows raised slightly, though your expression remained composed. A flicker of reluctance passed over your face before you replied, your voice calm but softer, tinged with sincerity. “That’s not necessary,” you said. “This was always about you—your experience, your journey. There’s no need to thank me.”

The two women didn’t falter, their gazes locked on yours with earnest determination. Ningning leaned forward slightly, her voice trembling with a mix of nerves and excitement. “We want it,” she said, the quiet intensity of her words ringing out. Giselle echoed her sentiment with a soft, “Please,” her lips parting slightly as her eyes gleamed with certainty.

You studied them for a moment, your expression thoughtful. Then, giving a slight nod, your demeanor shifted from instructor to something warmer, more inviting. “If it’s something you truly want…” you began, your voice deepening with an edge of authority that sent a shiver through them, “then it’s a possibility.”

Their faces brightened with anticipation, their flushed cheeks deepening as they exchanged a quick glance. With a steady breath, you gestured toward the door. “Follow me.”

You extended a hand, and they took it eagerly, their legs still trembling as they stood. You led them through another doorway, the atmosphere shifting subtly as the space opened into a luxurious room. The centerpiece was a large, inviting bed draped in soft, elegant linens. The lighting was warm and intimate, the scent of fresh linen mingling with the lingering musk of their arousal.

They exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them, before their attention turned fully to you. With a mix of boldness and reverence, their hands moved toward you, beginning the process of undressing you. Ningning’s fingers were the first to find the buttons of your shirt, her movements slow and deliberate as she worked her way downward, her gaze flickering upward to meet yours. Giselle followed suit, her hands trailing lightly across your shoulders as she slid the fabric away, leaving your chest bare.

The room seemed to hold its breath as their hands continued, working in unison to undo your belt and ease your pants down with careful precision. They paused briefly, their eyes traveling over your now-exposed form, and a shared breath escaped them, a soft sound of awe and anticipation.

Wordlessly, you guided them forward, stepping out of the last remnants of your clothing and moving to the bed. You settle onto your back with deliberate ease, the soft linens cool against your heated skin. Their eyes followed you closely, the intensity in their gazes growing as they climbed onto the bed, each taking a position on either side of your legs.

They hesitated for just a moment, their eyes meeting once again in silent understanding before turning back to you. The air between the three of you was thick with anticipation, the intimacy of the moment stretching taut as they prepared to continue.

The room seemed to hum with the charged energy between the three of you. Giselle moved first, her confidence shining as she leaned forward, her lips parting. Warm breath ghosted over your tip before her tongue flicked out, her first touch tentative but deliberate. She began with slow, exploratory movements, her lips pressing softly as her tongue traced deliberate paths. Her hands rested firmly on your thighs, steadying herself as her rhythm built.

Ningning watched closely, her wide eyes fixed on Giselle’s movements, her breath catching as she took it all in. After a moment, she joined in, her hesitation evident in her softer, more delicate approach. Her lips brushed lightly against your member, a tentative kiss that quickly deepened as her tongue followed, her confidence growing with every touch. Her hands mirrored Giselle’s, settling on your other thigh as she sought to match her partner’s rhythm.

The contrast between them was intoxicating—Giselle’s firm, deliberate strokes complemented by Ningning’s softer, more exploratory touch. Their lips and tongues alternated, each adding their own unique intensity to the experience. Sometimes their movements overlapped, their tongues brushing against one another as they worked in tandem. The accidental contact of their lips, faint and fleeting, sent a ripple of warmth through all three of you, heightening the intimacy of the moment.

As their synchronization improved, their rhythm became seamless. Giselle’s confident strokes guided Ningning’s more delicate approach, and together they created a dynamic harmony. Their lips sometimes pressed against one another as they adjusted their positions, their shared focus blurring the lines between their individual efforts. The wet, rhythmic sounds of their tongues and lips filled the room, punctuated by their soft, muffled moans.

You placed a hand on each of their heads, your fingers threading gently through their hair, guiding them closer as they worked. The warmth of their mouths enveloped you, their tongues gliding and flicking with growing intensity. “You girls are amazing,” you murmured, your voice thick with approval. The praise spurred them on, their movements growing more deliberate as they leaned into the moment.

Giselle glanced up briefly, her gaze meeting yours with a glint of pride before she redoubled her efforts. Her lips pressed firmly, her tongue moving with deliberate precision as she explored every inch of your shaft. Each stroke was confident, her focus unwavering as she worked with practiced grace. Ningning, inspired by Giselle’s lead, grew bolder in her own movements. Her lips and tongue mirrored Giselle’s rhythm at first, but after a brief pause, she shifted her focus.

With a soft hum of approval, Ningning trailed lower, her lips brushing over the sensitive skin of your base before moving to your balls. Her tongue darted out tentatively at first, tracing slow, delicate circles that sent a subtle shiver through your body. Encouraged by the reaction, she grew bolder, her lips wrapping around one side as her tongue continued its exploration. The warmth and softness of her mouth contrasted perfectly with the firmer, more focused pressure of Giselle’s movements above.

The dynamic between them shifted into something even more enthralling. Giselle maintained her focus on the shaft, her tongue gliding over the cock with deliberate care, alternating between firm strokes and teasing flicks that left your body humming with sensation. Meanwhile, Ningning lavished attention on your balls, her lips and tongue moving in gentle, rhythmic motions. The combination of their efforts created an intoxicating duality—the firm, deliberate touch above and the soft, warm caress below.

Occasionally, their coordination brought them close enough that their lips brushed faintly against one another, a fleeting contact that only deepened the intimacy of the moment. The gentle friction of their mouths meeting, even briefly, sent a spark of warmth radiating through you, adding another layer of connection to their synchronized devotion.

Your hands remained on their heads, fingers threading gently through their hair as their efforts intensified. Giselle’s moans vibrated against your shaft, each stroke of her tongue more deliberate and precise as she sensed the growing tension in your body. Below, Ningning’s quieter, reverent whimpers continued as her mouth explored your sensitive base. Her tongue traced languid circles, her lips warm and soft as they enveloped one side and then the other, her gentle rhythm a perfect counterpoint to Giselle’s focused attention.

Their coordination was seamless, a perfect harmony of passion and purpose. Giselle’s lips tightened, her pace quickening slightly, while Ningning pressed more firmly against you, her hands gripping your thighs for balance. The wet sounds of their tongues, the heat of their mouths, and the occasional gentle friction when their lips brushed against one another created an intoxicating symphony of sensations. Each flick of their tongues, each press of their lips, sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

The intensity grew, your muscles tightening as you felt yourself approach the edge. “I’m close,” you murmured, your voice thick with the weight of the moment. The words hung in the air, a signal that spurred them both into action.

Giselle slowed her pace slightly, pulling back just enough to meet Ningning’s gaze. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and understanding as she reached down, her fingers brushing Ningning’s cheek. With a gentle but deliberate touch, she guided Ningning upward, encouraging her to take the lead.

Ningning hesitated for only a heartbeat before following Giselle’s lead, her lips parting as she moved to take your release. Giselle’s hand lingered on Ningning’s jaw for a moment, a silent gesture of encouragement, before she settled back slightly, her lips brushing against Ningning’s cheek as they passed.

As Ningning wrapped her soft lips fully around you, Giselle shifted her focus lower, her movements deliberate and exploratory. Her lips pressed against the sensitive skin at the base of your length, trailing lower, her hot breath ghosting over your skin. Slowly, she descended further, her tongue darting out to taste and tease the delicate area. Her exploration didn’t stop there—her lips found the sensitive ring of muscle below, and she paused for only a moment before pressing her tongue against it.

The first touch of Giselle’s tongue was tentative, a light flick that sent a shiver rippling up your spine. Your body tensed reflexively at the unexpected sensation, and a sudden, involuntary twitch coursed through you, pressing deeper into Ningning’s mouth. She gasped softly around your cock, her lips stretching slightly as her eyes widened in surprise. The movement only seemed to spur her on, her tongue stroking with renewed determination as she adjusted to the change.

The sensation of Giselle’s tongue was electrifying, her warm, wet strokes contrasting sharply with the cool air of the room. As she grew bolder, her tongue moved in slow, deliberate circles around your entrance, teasing the sensitive nerve endings there. Each lap was firm and exploratory, her lips sealing softly against your skin as she alternated between gentle strokes and firmer presses. Her low, muffled hums of satisfaction reverberated through you, intensifying the already overwhelming sensations.

Above, Ningning’s mouth enveloped you with unrelenting heat. Her tongue moved with purpose, circling and stroking with a rhythm that deepened the connection between her and the act itself. Her soft moans vibrated against your length, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure through your body. Her hands rested lightly on your thighs, her fingers clenching slightly with every twitch and thrust, her arousal mirrored in her every action.

The dual sensations were almost too much to bear. The wet heat of Ningning’s mouth surrounding you, paired with the rhythmic lapping of Giselle’s tongue at your most sensitive entrance, sent shockwaves of pleasure cascading through your body. Every nerve felt alive, ignited by their synchronized efforts. Your hips instinctively rocked forward, driven by the intensity of the pleasure building within you. The contrast between Ningning’s focused, deliberate rhythm and Giselle’s teasing, exploratory movements created a synergy that pushed you to the brink.

The throaty hum of Giselle’s muffled moans as she worked only heightened the experience, the vibrations reverberating through your core. At the same time, Ningning’s lips slid down your cock with an almost reverent focus, her tongue pressing firmly and swirling along the underside in perfect harmony. The combined sensations left you entirely at their mercy, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as the overwhelming pleasure built to an unbearable crescendo.

“Oh, fuck… I’m cumming!” The words tore from your throat, raw and unrestrained, as your body stiffened in response to the tidal wave of pleasure surging through you. Your hips bucked reflexively, driving deeper into Ningning’s warm, wet mouth, while Giselle’s tongue pressed harder against your sensitive entrance, intensifying every nerve-ending’s response.

Loud, guttural grunts and moans escaped you in quick succession, each sound a testament to the sheer intensity of your release. Your voice reverberated through the room, blending with the wet, rhythmic sounds of Ningning’s mouth and Giselle’s deliberate movements. The primal force of your climax left you momentarily unguarded, your vocalizations echoing with abandon.

When the release came, it was powerful and unrestrained. A moan escaped Ningning as the warmth of your climax surged into her mouth. She froze momentarily, her eyes fluttering open with a startled glint before they softened again, her lips tightening instinctively to hold the full weight of your release. The heat filled her mouth, thick and overwhelming, her body trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment. She didn’t swallow—her cheeks puffed slightly as she held it, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

Below, Giselle continued her slow, purposeful movements, her tongue still teasing and lapping as if savoring every reaction she drew from you. The lingering sensations were amplified by the combination of Ningning’s focused efforts above and Giselle’s meticulous attention below. The two of them worked in perfect harmony, each touch and movement adding to the unrelenting tide of pleasure that left you utterly undone.

As Ningning began to pull back, a small thread of your release slipped past her lips, streaking down her chin in a glistening trail. Giselle, quick to act, leaned forward with a tender tilt of Ningning’s chin. Her lips captured Ningning’s in a deep, sensual kiss, the act as intimate as it was deliberate. Their tongues met immediately, intertwining in a slow, exploratory dance as Giselle shared in the taste of you.

The kiss deepened, their movements unhurried yet passionate, each of them savoring the shared essence between them. Their lips glistened, the faint, wet sound of their tongues mingling filling the air as the room seemed to hold its breath. Giselle’s hand slid gently to the back of Ningning’s neck, holding her close as they exchanged every drop of your release, the warmth and saltiness a tangible reminder of their connection to you and to each other.

When they finally parted, a faint string of saliva and release still connected their lips, breaking only when they exchanged a final, gentle flick of their tongues. Their eyes met, a mixture of satisfaction and unspoken understanding passing between them. A subtle flush deepened their cheeks, and with a silent agreement, they each tilted their heads back slightly and swallowed half, the deliberate action slow and sensual.

The soft sound of their throats working in unison punctuated the quiet of the room, a shared act that carried both reverence and intimacy. When they turned their attention back to you, their gazes held a newfound confidence, their breaths uneven but steady as they smiled—content and radiant, their connection with you and with each other now etched into the memory of this profound moment. Their glistening lips, flushed skin, and languid postures spoke volumes, a testament to the depth of the shared experience and the bond it had forged between the three of you.

As the moment of stillness settled, Giselle’s gaze lingered on you, a spark of playful determination flickering in her eyes. Without breaking the charged silence, she moved with deliberate grace, shifting her position. Rising to her knees, she swung a leg over your chest, her movements fluid and confident, until she was poised above your face. The intoxicating scent of her arousal filled your senses as she slowly lowered herself toward you.

Simultaneously, Ningning moved with equal intent, positioning herself at your hips. Her hands guided your cock into place with a mix of precision and eagerness, the warmth of her touch electrifying. As she slid you inside her, a low, throaty moan escaped her lips, her head tilting back as her body adjusted to the fullness. The tight, wet heat of her walls enveloped you completely, her hips rocking experimentally as she found her rhythm.

Your mouth met Giselle’s waiting heat with deliberate intensity, your tongue darting out to taste her. She gasped softly, her thighs trembling as she pressed herself against you, her hands gripping the headboard for balance. Each flick of your tongue sent ripples of pleasure through her, her moans cascading down to mingle with the sounds of Ningning’s gasps and the rhythmic slap of skin on skin as she rode you. Giselle’s movements grew bolder, her hips grinding against your mouth, the wetness of her arousal coating your lips and tongue as you worked to bring her higher.

Ningning, meanwhile, moved with increasing fervor, her hips undulating as she took your cock deeper with each thrust. The sensation of fullness sent shivers up her spine, her moans growing louder as she adjusted to the rhythm of your movements. Her hands rested on your chest for support, her nails digging lightly into your skin as the sensation built within her.

The room was alive with the sounds of pleasure—Giselle’s breathy cries as your tongue found her most sensitive spots, Ningning’s desperate moans as she rode you, and the wet, rhythmic sounds of their shared arousal. The heat between the three of you was palpable, an all-encompassing intimacy that left no part of the moment untouched.

Their gazes met across the expanse of your body, each watching the other with unrestrained arousal. Giselle’s lips parted, her flushed cheeks deepening as she locked eyes with Ningning, who mirrored her expression with wide-eyed awe. The sight of each other’s pleasure only seemed to spur them on, their moans becoming more urgent, their movements more synchronized.

Giselle’s hips pressed harder against your face, her thighs quivering as she chased her climax. “Oh… yes,” she murmured breathlessly, her voice trembling as your tongue continued its relentless work. Above you, her chest heaved, her hands gripping the headboard tighter as her body began to tremble.

Below, Ningning’s rhythm grew erratic, her movements desperate as she leaned forward, her forehead brushing lightly against Giselle’s arm as her own release neared. The connection between them—the shared sounds, the exchanged glances, the mirrored vulnerability—heightened the intensity for all three of you.

Your hips met Ningning’s movements with deliberate thrusts, driving her wild with each upward motion. Simultaneously, your tongue flicked and pressed against Giselle’s most sensitive spots, her cries growing louder as she tilted her head back, completely lost in the moment. The three of you moved in perfect sync, an unspoken harmony that left the room bathed in the raw, unfiltered sound of shared passion.

Giselle’s cries grew louder, her hips grinding more insistently against your mouth as her body quivered. Each flick of your tongue sent electric shivers coursing through her, her arousal pooling and dripping down onto your lips and chin. Above, her thighs trembled with the strain of holding herself upright, her fingers gripping the headboard so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “Oh—yes! Just like that!” she gasped, her voice breaking as she teetered on the edge.

Ningning was lost in her own spiral of pleasure, her hips rolling in erratic, desperate movements as she took your cock deeper with every thrust. The wet, rhythmic slap of your bodies echoed through the room, mingling with her breathy moans. Her hands pressed into your chest, her nails dragging lightly against your skin as she leaned forward, her forehead brushing against Giselle’s arm. Her voice was shaky but insistent, punctuated by gasps. “I can’t… I’m so close!” she whimpered, her slick heat clenching tightly around you.

As your tongue worked relentlessly against Giselle, your hands moved instinctively, your body attuned to their needs. Blindly, one hand slid down Ningning’s trembling body, your fingertips brushing against the swollen nub at her center. The instant contact made her gasp sharply, her hips bucking as your fingers began to circle her clit with deliberate pressure. The soft, slick heat beneath your hand pulsed with need, and her cries grew louder as the added stimulation pushed her closer to the brink.

Simultaneously, your other hand snaked upward, your fingers finding Giselle’s own sensitive nub above you. Your touch was firm but controlled, matching the rhythm of your tongue as it flicked and pressed against her. Her thighs trembled violently as her moans turned into incoherent cries, her body reacting to the dual assault of your mouth and fingers. “Oh my God—yes!” she cried out, her voice trembling with desperation as her pleasure soared.

The connection between them heightened the intensity, their gazes locking in an unspoken challenge as they each fought to hold on, to chase their climaxes together. Giselle’s flushed face was streaked with sweat, her hair sticking to her temples as she rocked against your mouth. Ningning, her lips parted and eyes heavy-lidded, couldn’t stop herself from stealing glances at Giselle, the sight of her friend’s pleasure fueling her own.

Your fingers moved in perfect sync with your other actions—pressing, circling, and teasing their most sensitive spots with unwavering precision. The added stimulation sent their bodies into overdrive, the tension in the room reaching a fever pitch. Ningning’s thighs quivered uncontrollably, her moans turning into frantic cries, while Giselle’s grip on the headboard tightened further as her hips bucked wildly against your face.

“Unnie—look at me,” Ningning gasped, her voice breaking with urgency. Giselle’s head tilted downward, her glazed eyes meeting Ningning’s as they shared a moment of raw connection. Seeing the desperation mirrored in each other’s faces was the final push they needed.

Giselle’s climax struck first, her body jerking violently as she let out a scream that echoed through the room. Her thighs clamped around your head as her hips bucked, her release flooding over your tongue in warm, powerful surges. She gasped and moaned, the cries spilling out of her uncontrollably as she gave in to the overwhelming pleasure.

Moments later, Ningning followed. Her walls clenched around you, tight and insistent, as her climax erupted. Her body convulsed, her moans turning into desperate, breathless cries. “Oh, God—yes, yes!” she screamed, her hips jerking wildly as her release poured over you. The warmth and tightness of her pulsating core became the tipping point, the overwhelming pleasure building to an uncontrollable crescendo.

Your hips bucked instinctively, your movements deep and deliberate as the pressure within you surged forward. With a guttural moan, your release came, spilling deep inside Ningning as her walls fluttered and pulsed around you, her body seeming to draw every last drop from you. The sensation sent waves of electricity through your body, your climax prolonged by the sheer intensity of the moment.

The force of your release triggered a reflexive sound, a deep, raw moan that reverberated through the room. Giselle, still trembling in the aftershocks of her climax, felt the vibrations through her connection to you. The sound seemed to ripple through her, igniting an unexpected wave of pleasure that caused her to cry out once more, her body arching as an aftershock tore through her already sensitive nerves.

Ningning gasped at the sensation of your warmth inside her as her trembling walls milked you for every drop, her body convulsing as her cries turned into soft whimpers., her head tilting back as her hips rocked involuntarily, drawing out every ounce of the shared moment. Her breathing was ragged, her body trembling as her climax merged seamlessly with yours, leaving her utterly spent.

And then, like a pleasurable déjà vu, their bodies, already trembling from the force of their orgasms, arched simultaneously as a second wave overtook them. Streams of warm, clear liquid erupted from their cores, their squirting an undeniable affirmation that the first time wasn’t a fluke. Giselle’s release showered over your face, mingling with the wetness already there, while Ningning’s sprayed against your hips and thighs, the force splashing onto Giselle’s legs as well.

The air hung heavy with the scent of arousal and sweat, the room drenched in the evidence of your shared passion. Giselle finally collapsed forward, her body spent as she leaned heavily against the headboard, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Ningning followed suit, sinking against your chest, her trembling hands resting lightly on your shoulders.

The three of you remained entwined, the quiet punctuated only by the sound of your slowing breaths. Their bodies were slick with sweat, their flushed faces radiant as they exchanged a tired but satisfied smile. It wasn’t just the act itself but the undeniable bond you had forged that left an indelible mark on all three of you.

As the final tremors subsided and the intensity of the moment gave way to stillness, Giselle was the first to move. Her breathing still labored, she carefully shifted off your face, her legs unsteady but strong enough to carry her. Her flushed skin glistened in the warm light, her chest rising and falling as she ran a hand through her damp hair, trying to steady herself. A satisfied smile played on her lips, but her movements were measured, deliberate—a sharp contrast to the state of her companion.

Ningning, however, was visibly more affected. Her body quivered as she slowly lifted herself from your hips, her thighs trembling uncontrollably with every movement. She sank onto the bed beside you, dazed and breathless, her flushed cheeks and glassy eyes a testament to the intensity she had endured. Her hands trembled as she tried to adjust her posture, her body too overwhelmed to fully cooperate.

Giselle noticed immediately, her smile softening as she leaned closer to Ningning, her hand reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from her friend’s face. “Hey, you okay?” Giselle murmured, her tone gentle but filled with concern. She wrapped an arm around Ningning’s shoulders, pulling her close in an attempt to soothe her. Ningning nodded faintly, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, she rested her head against Giselle’s shoulder, her body still trembling slightly as she leaned into the comfort.

You moved with quiet care, sitting up and reaching out to rest a hand on each of them. Your voice was low and calming as you addressed them both. “You did beautifully,” you said softly, your hands offering a grounding presence. “You’re both incredible.”

Giselle gave a small, grateful smile, her hand rubbing soothing circles against Ningning’s back as she glanced at you. “Thank you,” she said, her voice steady despite the lingering exhaustion. “I don’t think we’ll ever forget this.”

Ningning’s eyes fluttered open, and after a moment, she echoed Giselle’s words with a faint, breathy whisper. “Thank you.” Her voice was trembling, but there was no mistaking the sincerity behind it. Her gaze drifted to you, still dazed but filled with gratitude.

As the minutes passed, the remnants of their aftershocks began to fade, leaving them both calmer and more composed. They moved slowly, helping each other sit upright as they prepared to dress. Their movements were tender and unhurried, an unspoken bond evident in the way Giselle steadied Ningning, offering a guiding hand whenever her balance wavered.

Once they were dressed, they turned to you one last time. Giselle, still steady and confident, spoke first. “Thank you again—for everything. This was… more than we could have imagined.” Her expression was filled with warmth, and she nodded firmly, as if solidifying the memory.

Ningning, though still leaning slightly against Giselle for support, managed a soft smile. Her nod came slower, her dazed eyes meeting yours briefly before her gaze drifted downward, her exhaustion still evident. “Thank you,” she repeated, her voice quiet but filled with sincerity.

You returned their smiles, your tone professional but warm. “You were both wonderful to work with. I hope you’ll consider coming back in the future. It’s been an absolute pleasure guiding you through this experience.”

Giselle nodded eagerly, her smile widening. “Absolutely,” she said, her enthusiasm clear. Ningning followed with a slower, smaller nod, her lingering haze making her response quieter but no less heartfelt.

You glanced toward the facilities with a small apologetic shrug. “Unfortunately, the shower is unavailable tonight. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

Giselle waved the comment off with a laugh, her arm tightening around Ningning’s waist as they leaned into each other. “It’s okay,” she said lightly. “I think we’re good.”

Ningning hummed softly in agreement, her head resting against Giselle’s shoulder as they made their way toward the exit. Their steps were slow, their bodies leaning heavily on one another for support, but there was no mistaking the contentment in their shared posture. As they passed through the doorway, arm in arm, their laughter and whispered words faded into the distance, leaving behind an air of fulfilled intimacy and a bond that would linger long after the night ended.

The cool night air embraced them as they stepped outside, a stark contrast to the heat and intensity of the room they had just left. The crisp breeze kissed their flushed skin, sending a shiver through their bodies that brought a hint of grounding. Yet, despite the coolness of the air, the warmth of what had just transpired lingered, leaving their minds spinning.

Ningning clung to Giselle’s arm as they walked, her steps unsteady and her legs trembling beneath her. Her face was still flushed, her breath uneven, and her eyes dazed as if she were trying to process what had happened. Giselle, steadier but no less affected, kept an arm wrapped securely around Ningning’s waist, her own body swaying slightly with each step as they leaned on one another for support.

“I…” Ningning’s voice came out soft and trembling, almost as if she were speaking to herself. “I can’t believe we actually… squirted.” She blinked slowly, her wide eyes darting to Giselle, her words trailing off into the cool night air. “Not just once—but twice.” Her cheeks flushed even deeper as she said it, the disbelief thick in her tone. “For real. That actually happened.”

Giselle let out a breathy laugh, her lips curving into a dreamy smile. “Me neither,” she admitted, shaking her head as if to clear it. Her voice softened, her gaze distant as her words slowed. “That… that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had. Hands down.” She glanced at Ningning, her smile widening as a faint blush crept up her cheeks. “I don’t even know how to describe it—it was just… perfect.”

Ningning nodded, though her movements were sluggish, her body still trembling faintly. “Same,” she whispered, her voice hurried but tinged with awe. “I didn’t even know my body could… do that.” She let out a shaky breath, her fingers gripping Giselle’s sleeve for balance. 

They both laughed, the sound light and filled with a mixture of disbelief and wonder. Giselle tightened her arm around Ningning, steadying her as their legs wobbled slightly beneath them. The intimacy of what they had shared was palpable, creating a bond that felt unshakable, as if the experience had fused something deeper between them. Words felt almost unnecessary; the shared memory spoke volumes.

As they strolled down the dimly lit street, their earlier laughter began to fade, replaced by a contemplative silence. The golden glow of the streetlights bathed the path ahead, casting long, swaying shadows that moved in rhythm with their steps. Giselle crossed her arms tightly against her chest, bracing herself against the crisp night air seeping through her clothes. Despite the chill, her expression remained soft, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. Beside her, Ningning adjusted her jacket with slow, fumbling hands, her flushed cheeks and unfocused gaze revealing her preoccupation. Flashes of the evening seemed to replay behind her eyes, each memory drawing her further into her own quiet reflection.

When they reached the corner of their block, their synchronized footsteps faltered. They both froze, their gazes snapping to the opposite side of the street. Emerging from the shadows under the muted glow of the next streetlight were two familiar figures: Karina and Yunjin.

Instinctively, Giselle and Ningning moved closer to the edge of the sidewalk, their eyes locked onto the pair. Karina and Yunjin’s presence felt almost surreal. The two moved in unison, their steps light and easy, their laughter floating softly into the quiet night. Yunjin leaned into Karina’s side, her arm looped loosely around her, her expression radiating a confident ease. Karina’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile as Yunjin whispered something that made her chuckle softly, their connection palpable even from a distance.

The direction of their path, however, was unmistakable. They were headed toward the same discreet entrance Giselle and Ningning had only just left. The heavy door loomed in the distance, barely noticeable to anyone unfamiliar, yet its significance was impossible to ignore.

Frozen in place, Giselle and Ningning exchanged a quick, wide-eyed glance, their unspoken thoughts mirrored in each other’s faces. They stood in silence, their breathing shallow, as Karina and Yunjin slipped through the door. The soft click of it closing behind them echoed in the stillness, as though punctuating a realization neither of them wanted to put into words.

No words were necessary. In that shared glance between them, everything was understood: the disbelief, the reluctant acceptance, and the strange comfort of knowing their personal experience wasn’t as unique as they had thought. Whatever had drawn them there clearly extended beyond their own curiosity—a thread of something universal, intimate, and quietly thrilling.

Without speaking, they turned and resumed their walk, their steps slower now, their pace deliberate as the surreal encounter lingered between them. The air seemed heavier, their thoughts weaving unspoken questions and answers into the night.

The faint sound of their laughter returned after a while, but it was softer, tinged with awe and a touch of disbelief. They moved in step with each other, letting the moment settle as they headed home, the night leaving its quiet mark on their still-racing minds.

-----

When they arrived back at the apartment, the faint glow from the living room spilled into the hallway. Giselle hesitated at the door, her fingers trembling slightly as she unlocked it. Ningning shifted beside her, her legs wobbly and her cheeks still flushed, mirroring Giselle’s expression. They exchanged a glance—nervous, uncertain, and still overwhelmed—before stepping inside.

Minjeong was lounging on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her and a tub of ice cream balanced on one knee. At the sound of the door, she looked up casually, her expression neutral for a moment before a slow, knowing smile crept across her face. She set the ice cream aside, tilting her head as her gaze swept over Giselle and Ningning.

Their clothes were rumpled, unevenly tucked, and their hair was a mess, clinging to their damp foreheads. A faint sheen of sweat still glimmered on their flushed skin, paired with the heavy, unmistakable scent of musk and arousal clinging to them. It was all the confirmation Minjeong needed.

“Well, well,” she said, leaning back into the couch and crossing her arms. “Look who’s back.”

Giselle froze, her eyes darting anywhere but at Minjeong’s smug expression as she clumsily shrugged off her jacket. Ningning fidgeted beside her, wringing the hem of her shirt with trembling hands, her blush deepening by the second. The air between them felt heavy, suffused with the weight of shared secrets.

Minjeong’s smirk widened, her tone playful but dripping with amusement. “So,” she began, letting the word hang tantalizingly in the air, “do you believe me now?”

The question hit like a challenge, undeniable and loaded. Ningning blinked rapidly, her flush spreading all the way to her ears as she stammered, “I… uh… what?” Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

Minjeong raised her eyebrows, clearly savoring every second of their discomfort. “The squirting thing,” she said with a casual shrug. “Do you believe me now, or should I assume you two just fell into a puddle on the way home?”

Giselle groaned loudly, slapping her hands over her face. “Oh my God,” she muttered through her fingers. “We’re not doing this.”

“Oh, but we are,” Minjeong replied smoothly, sitting up straighter as she gestured at them. “Look at yourselves. I’m pretty sure half the apartment can smell exactly where you’ve been.” She waved a hand in front of her nose with mock drama. “Seriously, go take a shower before you stink up the place.”

Ningning let out a breathy, nervous laugh, rubbing the back of her neck as if she could physically brush off the embarrassment. “Fine, okay,” she admitted, her voice tinged with defeat. “You were right.”

Minjeong leaned back, her smug expression only growing. “Damn, I love being right.” She grabbed her spoon again, pointing it between them for emphasis. “And for the record, you two look way worse than I ever did. Way worse.”

Giselle opened her mouth, no doubt to protest, but one glance at Ningning’s equally disheveled state made her snap it shut with a resigned groan. “Okay, fine,” she muttered. “We get it.”

“So?” Minjeong continued, her voice light but probing. She looked back and forth between them, her amusement palpable.

Giselle and Ningning exchanged a look, their faces still burning from the intensity of Minjeong’s scrutiny. Finally, Giselle sighed heavily, her tone a mix of exasperation and reluctant awe. “It was… insane.”

“Amazing,” Ningning added softly, her voice almost reverent. “But absolutely insane.”

Minjeong chuckled, digging her spoon into the ice cream as she watched them shuffle awkwardly toward the hallway. “Thought so,” she said, her voice laced with amusement. “Now go before you stink up the place.”

Giselle rolled her eyes, dragging Ningning along. “We’re going,” she grumbled over her shoulder. “And stop being so smug.”

The bathroom door clicked shut, and Minjeong leaned back against the couch, her smirk softening into a faint grin. “Told them,” she muttered to herself, taking another bite of ice cream as her eyes glinted with satisfaction.

-----

After their showers, Giselle and Ningning returned to the living room, collapsing onto the couch beside Minjeong. The TV murmured softly in the background as they all sat in comfortable silence, Giselle and Ningning still recovering from their experience. Minjeong barely glanced up from her mug of tea that she had replaced the ice-cream with, her smirk faint but ever-present.

A couple hours passed quietly, the three of them lounging in the warm, cozy space, the tension of the evening fading into the background.

Then the front door creaked open.

They all turned to look. Karina stepped inside, and the sight of her left them speechless. She looked utterly ravaged, as though every ounce of energy had been drained from her in the most unrestrained way. Her heels dangled limply from one hand, the straps swinging with her unsteady steps as her bare feet padded softly on the floor. Her mascara was streaked down her flushed cheeks, evidence of tears shed not from pain but from overwhelming sensation. Her lips were swollen, parted as she panted softly, her chest rising and falling in deep, labored breaths that made her shirt cling to her damp skin.

Her shirt was disheveled, one sleeve slipping halfway off her shoulder and exposing the curve of her flushed skin. The fabric bunched awkwardly around her midsection, twisted as though it had been yanked and tugged in the heat of the moment. The absence of a bra was glaringly obvious; her hardened nipples pressed against the thin material, betraying her sensitivity and the cool air that kissed her overheated body.

Her neck was scattered with marks—dark, blooming hickeys and faint, precise bites painting a vivid, unspoken story from just beneath her jawline to the delicate curve of her collarbone. Among them, faint but undeniable, was the ghostly imprint of a hand—its shape outlined in a faint redness across her throat, a testament to moments of raw, restrained intensity. The marks deepened in color toward her shoulders, a testament to the passion and force of the encounter. Her hair was a wild mess, tousled and damp with sweat, clinging in strands to her forehead and neck. A few stray locks stuck to her temple, framing her flushed face like a halo gone astray.

Her skirt, barely hanging on, was wrinkled and skewed, riding up on one side to reveal the faint imprint of fingers along her thighs where she'd been gripped firmly. The fabric clung to her hips as though it, too, had been caught in the chaos. A thin sheen of sweat coated her glistening skin, catching the light and accentuating the sharp curve of her hip bones and the subtle tremble of her legs as she took another step.

Karina’s lips twitched into a lazy, self-satisfied smile as she leaned lightly against the doorframe. Her eyes, half-lidded and glossy, carried the unmistakable glow of someone thoroughly and unapologetically satisfied. Despite her thoroughly wrecked appearance, she exuded confidence, her posture unbothered even as her body showed every sign of having been pushed to its absolute limit.

Minjeong, still leaning comfortably against the couch cushions, raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening as she took in the sight. “You good?”

Karina let out a breathy laugh, running a hand through her tangled hair, her voice husky and dripping with contentment. “Never better,” she replied, not even trying to straighten her clothes or clean herself up.

Karina’s lazy smile widened as her gaze flicked over to Giselle and Ningning, both of whom froze under her gaze. Tilting her head slightly, she drawled, “What happened to just experiencing, huh? All I could taste was the two of you the entire time I was with him.”

Giselle’s mouth opened, but only a strangled sound escaped. “I-I… we… it wasn’t—” Her hands flailed slightly before she dropped her head into her hands, groaning in embarrassment.

Ningning wasn’t any better, her face turning an impossibly deeper shade of red as she stammered, “It’s not… we didn’t mean to—ah, oh my God.”

Minjeong, sitting cross-legged on the couch, looked back and forth between them, her brow furrowing. “Wait… what? Taste what? What’s going on?”

Giselle and Ningning didn’t answer, too busy sinking into the couch cushions, their faces buried in their hands as they tried to suppress their embarrassment. Karina, clearly pleased with the chaos she’d left behind, simply chuckled and disappeared down the hallway, her door clicking shut behind her.

Minjeong blinked at the scene, utterly baffled. “Am I missing something?”

No one answered. The silence, filled with mortified tension, hung in the air as Ningning and Giselle continued to avoid Minjeong’s questioning gaze, their faces buried in their hands.

Minjeong raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning as realization began to dawn. “You know, I’d ask again, but I think I already have my answer,” she teased, her voice laced with amusement.

Ningning stammered, “I-It’s not like that!” but her words dissolved into incoherent mumbling as she slumped further into the couch. Beside her, Giselle shook her head rapidly, muttering something incomprehensible, her face still hidden in her hands.

Minjeong chuckled, leaning back with a satisfied grin as she grabbed her tea. “Right. Not like that. Sure. Whatever you say.”

Her casual tone only seemed to make things worse. Ningning shot Giselle a desperate look, silently begging her to do something, but Giselle merely groaned louder, sinking even deeper into the cushions as if trying to vanish.

The apartment settled into uneasy quiet, the faint sound of the TV providing a backdrop to the heavy tension. Minjeong took a sip of her tea, her expression smug as she glanced at the other two. The warmth in the room was palpable—tinged with shared embarrassment, reluctant amusement, and an unspoken agreement that this would not come up again.

At least, not anytime soon.

[alsofoundinpeas]

Dinner for Two(ish)

Summary: Since the beginning of your relationship, you and Spencer have made it a tradition to share a candlelit dinner at home every Valentine's Day. But this year, the evening has a surprise guest—one who’s about to change everything.

CONTENT WARNINGS: (While this fic itself isn't explicit content, my blog is 18+ so please keep this in mind!!) Mentions of past infertility issues. Pregnancy announcement. Both reader and Spencer cry but it's happy tears!! Established relationship. Fluff <3 (I think that's all but feel free to let me know if there are any I should add!)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day my angels!! <3 This is way different than my usual fics so I hope you guys like it :') I figured something short and sweet (not a Sabrina reference but still giggling) would be best for today. I did try a different writing style instead of using Y/N so any feedback would be greatly appreciated! I also have a requested fic coming out Sunday or Monday that I'm excited for you guys to read <3 As always, please tell me what you think! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends :) Thank you and I love you all!!

Nerves wrack your body as you pace the kitchen, your heart pounding so hard you swore it was bound to leap right out of your ribcage if you were to stop moving.

Spencer called a few minutes ago to let you know he was on his way home, leaving you with almost an hour to set everything up for his surprise. You’d kept the call brief and kept your voice even so he wouldn’t suspect anything—a surprising feat, considering your body was (and still is) trembling like a leaf caught in a windstorm. In a way, you were thankful he’d had back-to-back cases recently.

Despite missing him so much it ached and worrying about him every second you were awake (and even in your subconscious as you slept), Spencer being away so often made keeping your secret much easier.

The wedding ring on your finger spun endlessly as you continued to fidget with it—a nervous habit that you’d picked up the second Spencer slid it on. A glance at the clock on the stove told you he’d be home in roughly five minutes. A shaky sigh filled the air as you attempted to swallow your nerves, lighting the candles you’d set up on the dining table and fixing your plates with the food you spent over an hour preparing because everything had to be perfect for tonight.

The familiar sound of keys jingling and the lock turning sent your blood rushing through your veins, humming beneath your skin in an excited current as you wait for your husband to open the door.

Spencer stepped inside, wearing an exhausted smile and holding a bouquet of the most beautiful flowers he could find last minute before the florist down the street closed their shop. His face lit up at the sight of the candlelit dinner, the crinkles around his eyes making your nerves settle just a little. It reminded you that the man in front of you was the love of your life, and that, despite how scary it felt, everything would be just fine.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” he murmured as he made his way over to you, pulling you into a tight but mindful hug so that he didn’t crush your flowers. "Dinner smells amazing. You spoil me."

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you waved a hand dismissively, pressing a tender kiss to his before taking the flowers to put them in a vase. "You don’t need to butter me up, Spence. I’m already your wife," you teased, though your cheeks flushed at the compliment.

"Something I’m grateful for every day," Spencer said with sincerity, moving behind you to wrap his arms around you and place a soft kiss on the top of your head.

After arranging the flowers in the vase and setting them on the table, the two of you sat down to eat. As you picked at your food, Spencer noticed you nervously fidgeting with your ring. His brow furrowed in concern as he wondered what could possibly be making you so anxious. Finally, he set his fork down, unable to stay quiet any longer.

"Honey, what's wrong? What's got you so worked up?"

His voice caught your attention, causing you to glance up from where you were gathering another bite onto your fork. Your teeth dug into your lower lip as you averted your gaze, contemplating waiting until the both of you were done eating or just telling him right now so you could get it out of the way. With a deep breath, you decided on the latter, letting your fork hit the plate with a soft clink as you cleared your throat.

"I...um. I actually have a present for you this year. Stay right here," you whispered as you got up, ignoring his protests as you hurried into your shared bedroom to grab the small box you'd put together for him. The box couldn't have been more than half a pound at most, but its contents had you feeling like you were carrying the weight of the world in your hands—and technically, you were.

Spencer eyed you skeptically as you returned, his gaze immediately dropping to the box as you placed it in front of him. "Sweetheart, I've told you that the dinner is more than enough for me—"

"Just open it," you urged, gesturing for him to go ahead with a quick, impatient motion from where you stood beside him.

A surprised chuckle escaped him as he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay! Sorry." His fingers fumbled with the red ribbon, unwinding it carefully as he slowly lifted the lid. You kept your eyes fixed on his face, anxiously watching for his reaction as he peered inside.

Inside was a tiny onesie with Baby Reid printed in delicate cursive, accompanied by an ultrasound photo and the three positive tests you’d taken (because you hadn’t quite believed the first one).

Spencer stared down at the items in complete shock, his mouth opening and closing for a moment before he glanced up at you. "W-we're having a baby?" His voice trembled, his eyes welling with tears at the realization.

For more than a year, you and Spencer had been trying to conceive, with him meticulously tracking your cycle and researching every possible method to increase your chances. But each time, you were met with heartache and disappointment, tossing negative test after negative test into the trash. Eventually, you both resigned yourselves to the reality that, as much as you longed for a baby of your own, it might not be in the cards.

You’d never been happier to be wrong in your life.

Nodding your head, tears began to well in your own eyes as you flashed him a watery smile. "We're having a baby, Spence."

Before you could even process what was happening, he was up and kneeling in front of you, his hands gently cradling your stomach as tears began to fall. A choked laugh escaped him as he looked up at you, eyes wide with awe. "We're having a baby," he whispered again, pressing a tender kiss to your stomach despite the barely-there bump—just over eight weeks along.

The sight made your heart swell, one hand instinctively wiping away his tears, even as your own continued to fall. The other hand rested gently beside his on your stomach. And as you watched your husband speak softly to your unborn baby, you couldn’t help but feel that everything you’d ever wanted was finally right there, just beneath your fingertips.

Continued A/N's: AHHH this got posted a little later than intended because I kept coming back to edit HAHA but I truly hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did. I truly believe that man deserved a happy ending with baby geniuses of his own and this is my way of coping :') BUTTTT thank you so much for reading and Happy Valentine's Day again <3

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, TikTok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[careyakane]

Laguna, New Mexico – 3:35 PM

We stopped outside a closed Native craft store just as Kii began to slip. It overlooked a nameless town crowned with a great ivory church of adobe. Behind it, red hills fell into a lapis hue that wrapped them up like smoke. Now beyond rage and into some wordless pain, Kii transformed into a great gnarled knot that burned as he screamed in the sage fields. A dog barked with him from a nearby yard, and a woman watched from her window—the unfolding of complete loss spilling from the dark-haired boy.

I grew up under the same roof as an angry man, and some part of me still collapses in their presence. I said nothing to him; I just stood looking at the church, flinching with each cry and pushing back old memories as best I could. Screams get swallowed up out here in the flats. I’m not sure where they go, but I like to believe the desert takes care to see they get passed along to whomever it is that guides us on our long roads.

Owl and I have both, in our own ways, felt the crumbling of a belief around a person—have watched a life planned go up like dry kindling set to flame in a windstorm. There was nothing we could say.

With time, he stepped from the framing that held the landscape, the church, the mountains, and the sage. His hands were cracked and gray from the wind. His eyes were stiff and teary, but the cold kept them from running down his face. We got back on the road and drove in silence. All around us, the day began to close up shop, and in its absence, the last remaining light drew our heads to the sky—a wonderful spilled paint of a sky. Lapis and maroons ran into each other in great streaks that cut for miles as I strained over my shoulder to see them slip behind endless mountains, the color of a satin sea. Invisible threads pulled them swiftly to their source. Brighter and brighter they glowed in passage, back to that golden bed of coals just out of sight.

Soon the sky was drained, and the valley was quiet, the car was quiet, the anger was quiet. My shoulders dropped, and we passed the Arizona border. Not much longer until we will have to sit and face our troubles. It’s too easy to just drive on here, believing falsely that something has been left behind and forgotten. I’ll think more on this when I’m home—too much to see just outside my window, and I’m missing it with all this writing.

[uniquethingtastemaker]

I haven’t posted any excerpts regarding Rook x Observant Reader yet. Mostly because a lot of it is relatively serious. However, I thought I share one of the most Rook lines I’ve ever written:

“The tension this scene creates threatens to split my chest in two!” he details, pointing to a section on Vil’s laptop. “The underlying electricity between the princess and our Beautiful Vil enthralls me. It’s as if I’m transported into the ballroom as a simple nobleman, watching the glorieux event unfold before me! The artistry is otherworldly and extraordinaire. I cannot get enough of it.”

The hunter blinks, catching himself rambling.

“Je suis désolé!“ he apologizes. “I lost myself in my fervor and pulled you off track. I vow to be silent as you continue to read.”

He quiets down, but you shake your head, smiling.

“I don’t mind. It’s endearing to watch and listen to you. I’ve learned a lot about your interests and the movie,” you reply before adding. “Your enthusiasm is beaute.”

Rook’s eyes widen and fill with emotion. He grabs your hands, keeping eye contact with you.

“Trickster, you never fail to blow me away like a flower in a windstorm. I cherish your words and actions. My heart swells every time you engage in one of my habits. When we first met, you guessed my nicknames. Now, you respond with my speech patterns. I’m honored and exalted to be the target of your meaningful actions,” he expresses.

You stop yourself from bursting out laughing but you can’t stop your shoulders from shaking as a chuckle bubbles up. You can‘t press down your grin either. You don’t want to anyway.

Can you tell I love Rook? I will admit that I’ve learned that our favorite doesn’t always speak entirely in prose. I literally have listened and analyzed his voice lines. This is a more extreme example, especially since he’s rambling about Vil and Neige’s movies

Let me know what you think of my writing for Rook!

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Request: Hey okay so I have a request. I absolutely love your writing it always puts me in my feels I can’t I’m so obsessed so thank you for all that you do OKKK can I get a story where she has some ptsd from a recent hunt from being captured by a monster or something and she’s back home in the bunker and safe now but Sam and Dean start play wrestling as like brothers usually do and she just hears a bunch of banging or noise and it sends her into a panic and once she realizes it’s just Sam and Dean messing around she can’t calm down because of her ptsd and no matter how hard she tries she just can’t relax and stop shaking and crying. I feel like many writers just blow over it so simply when in reality it would take so much to coax someone out of this mental state and I’ve read all of your stories and I believe you capture it the way I always thought it should be. Thank you sooooo much I’m so excited for you to write this if you can🤭

A/N: this was such a good request and so interesting to write for me. Thank you so much for your kind words. I agree and I always try to capture all of the emotions because I feel like that would be reality. I hope this is what you were looking for. If not, just send in another request. Requests are always open :)))

Sam and Dean Winchester x sister!Reader

You were sitting in your room in the bunker, curled up under a blanket, staring at your phone without really looking at it. Your thoughts were everywhere, scattered like leaves in a windstorm. It was hard to focus. It was hard to feel safe. You couldn’t feel safe. Not after what just happened to you. Anxiety gnawed at you, as it often did these days, an ever present companion that no amount of distraction could push away.

Then you heard it—a loud bang, followed by the sound of furniture being knocked over. Shouting. Chaos.

Your blood went cold.

You froze for a moment, unsure if you were imagining it. But the loud crash followed by what sounded like frantic voices... That wasn't normal. You were sure of it. Your heart started racing, your pulse pounding in your ears.

No. No, no, no.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and before you could even think, you shot up from your bed. The air around you felt thin, as though you couldn’t get enough of it. The walls felt too tight, the floor too unstable beneath your feet.

They’re back.

The demons.

The memories came rushing back, so fast and vivid that they nearly knocked you off your feet. The night you’d been taken—the screams, the cold metal of the chains, the overwhelming darkness that swallowed you whole. You could still feel the pain of their hands on you, the torment, the terror that ran through you every time they moved in for the kill.

But they hadn't finished.

They were back.

They were here again.

A wave of nausea rolled through you as your body responded before your mind could catch up. You bolted from your room, your feet stumbling down the hallway, the sound of your breath too loud in your ears. You needed to get to Sam and Dean. You needed to help them. You needed to protect them. You couldn’t let them take any of you again.

No. Please, not again.

You needed to help them.

You had to get to Sam and Dean. You had to protect them.

You wouldn’t—couldn’t—let them take them.

No. You couldn’t lose them. You couldn’t let them go through what you went through.

Your legs carried you down the hall, the panic rising in your chest with every step, your vision blurring as your breath came in ragged gasps. You didn’t even think to stop. You couldn’t. Your brothers needed you. You had to get to them.

You reached the library, the door already slightly ajar. The noise was louder now—shouting, the sounds of rough movements, and what sounded like playful grunts.

But when you pushed the door open, your world tilted on its axis.

Sam and Dean were in the middle of the room, tangled up in some ridiculous wrestling match. Sam had Dean in a headlock, both of them laughing. Dean was struggling, giving exaggerated groans as if he were about to tap out.

Your heart, which had been pounding in your chest just moments before, dropped. For a second, you couldn’t move. Your body couldn’t catch up to the reality of what was happening. That everything was okay. That everyone was safe.

The panic hit full force, stronger than ever.

The sounds of them fighting—the thuds, the shouts, the noise of their bodies crashing together—hit you like a physical blow. The terrifying images of the demons breaking in, of them taking you again, of the torment and the loss, rushed back to the forefront of your mind. Your heart pounded in your chest, your breathing sped up, and you could feel the world starting to slip away.

You stumbled back, your legs weak, hands trembling. You couldn’t breathe. You thought they were here, they were here to hurt them.

To hurt you again.

Your head spun. Your vision blurred. The room felt too small, the walls closing in around you. You tried to back up, but your legs couldn’t hold you. The walls seemed to grow closer with every second, the air thicker, more suffocating. Your body was trembling violently now, and you couldn’t make sense of anything.

“I—I thought—” Your voice cracked, and you felt yourself shaking harder. You tried to make your way toward the door, but your body was no longer cooperating. Your hands gripped the doorframe, your vision swimming with tears. The walls of your mind were crumbling, the panic suffocating you.

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice was suddenly in front of you, his tone sharp, urgent, a sound that didn’t match the chaos in your head. But you didn’t hear it the way it was meant. You couldn’t. All you could hear were the demons, the screams, the sharp clang of chains, the mocking laughter of monsters that had torn everything from you.

You gasped, choking on the words you couldn’t seem to form. “I—I heard the noise... the shouting... I thought—they—” You stuttered, your body trembling harder, your knees threatening to give way beneath you. “I thought you were... I thought you were—hurt!”

Tears blurred your vision, and your voice cracked with the weight of the terror inside you. “I thought they were here... again...” you whispered, the words barely coming out. “I thought they were coming for you. For us. I—I heard it. The noise. The shouting. I thought they were breaking in again, and I couldn’t—” You couldn’t control the shaking now, couldn’t get your body to stop trembling. You backed away from Dean and Sam, desperate to get away from whatever was coming.

Dean’s face went ashen, his eyes widening as he saw you. He immediately stepped forward, closing the space between you and him in an instant. He reached out, hands coming to your shoulders, gripping you with a strength that felt grounding.

“No, no, no, kid, it’s okay. You’re safe. We’re all safe. We’re all okay.” His voice was soft, soothing, but there was an edge to it now. You could hear the weight of it in his tone. He understood.

“I thought you were in trouble,” you stammered, barely able to breathe, reaching out to him to steady yourself. “I thought I needed to help. I thought they were—”

“Y/N, hey kid, listen to me. We’re okay.” He gently pulled you into his chest, one hand moving to the back of your head, the other gripping your trembling form against him. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. We’re okay. We’re not going anywhere.”

You gasped for air, your hands gripping his shirt like a lifeline, nails digging into the fabric as your whole body shook. The terror was still burning in your chest, and it felt like you were suffocating under the weight of it.

“I—I’m so s-sorry,” you stammered, your voice shaking uncontrollably. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t mean to freak out, Dean... I just—I thought... I thought they were here. I thought—” You gasped for air, the words dying in your throat as the panic roared inside your head. “I thought they were coming to—take me again. To take you.”

Dean’s hand stroked the back of your head, his touch so gentle now that it felt like a lifeline in the storm. “Shh, it’s okay, kid. It’s okay, I know. You don’t have to apologize for this. You don’t have to apologize for being scared. We’ve got you.”

Sam stepped forward, his presence solid and calm. “You’re safe, bug. You’re safe.” He placed a hand gently on your back, and you felt the warmth of it seep through you, grounding you in a way you couldn’t manage to do yourself. “We were just being idiots, messing around. We’re fine. Everything’s okay.”

But the panic still hadn’t stopped. Your body was shaking so badly that you could feel it in your bones. You felt your breath hitch in your chest, and your whole body was still caught in that spiral of fear, the past crashing into the present.

Dean held you tighter, pressing his hand against your back, as though trying to keep the world from falling apart again. “You’re okay,” he murmured. “You’re safe. I swear, we’re not going anywhere.”

You buried your face into his chest, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you from floating away. His heart beat strong under your ear, steady and calm, and for a moment, you tried to sync your breathing with his. You tried to make it stop.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered again, apologizing again, your voice breaking with emotion. “I didn’t mean to... freak out. I didn’t mean to...”

Dean’s voice was a low, soothing murmur as he ran his hand up and down your back. “You never have to apologize for that, Y/N/N. Never.” He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his face soft, his expression full of something like understanding and regret. Tears were streaming down your face and he pulled you back into him. Your hands clinging to his shirt like he could disappear at any moment. “I know, kid. I know. We’re here. And we’re not going anywhere.” The weight of the fear was still clawing at your chest. You were unable to escape the feeling of terror, but the warmth of Dean’s embrace, his steady hands on your back, and Sam’s quiet presence were grounding you in a way that nothing else could. “You’re okay, Y/N. You’re safe here. You’re with us.”

Your body was still trembling under their touch. The sobs that wracked your chest weren’t stopping, no matter how much you tried to force yourself to breathe through them.

Dean didn’t let go. He held you tighter, his grip never faltering, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of your neck in an effort to comfort you. But he knew. He knew this wasn’t something you could easily snap out of. Not after everything. Not after what you’d been through.

The sobs that escaped you were louder now, messy and frantic, and you couldn’t stop them no matter how much you tried to pull yourself together. “I—I’m sorry,” you apologized for the third time, the words coming out in gasps. “I didn’t m-mean to... I didn’t mean to s-scare you. I j-just... I thought... I thought... they were back.”

Dean’s eyes flicked over to Sam, his face unreadable but his jaw tight, his worry clear. Sam’s hand was still resting on your back, but he looked up at Dean, the unspoken communication between them cutting through the chaos in the room. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Dean’s face, his expression softening but filled with a rawness that made your heart ache.

“Y/N,” Dean whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His hands moved to the back of your head, his grip firm and reassuring as he gently pulled you closer to him, as if he could shield you from everything that haunted you. “You don’t have to apologize for this. You don’t have to apologize for being scared, okay? You’re safe. We’ve got you.”

But you couldn’t let go. You really couldn’t stop trembling, couldn’t make your body stop shaking. Your fingers were still gripping his shirt with an intensity that had you nearly pulling the fabric out of place, but you couldn’t loosen your hold. You were too scared. Too broken by the moment. What if they came back? What if it happened again?

“I’m so scared De,” you whimpered through your tears, trying to force the words out between sobs. “I am s-so scared... I thought... what if they come back... or... or... or what if they come for you now.” Your breath hitched with every word, and your voice broke, like each syllable was physically tearing you apart.

Dean’s face softened, his brow furrowing in concern. But he didn’t push you away. He didn’t tell you to calm down. Instead, he just held you tighter, his hands soothing as they ran up and down your back, trying to calm the storm inside of you.

“Shhh, I know you’re scared, I know,” he muttered, his voice low but firm. “They’re not coming back. You’re safe. It’s okay, kid. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, the gesture gentle and familiar, something that always seemed to bring you a little peace when the world felt like it was falling apart. But even that didn’t stop the tears. The panic had dug its claws into you so deep that you couldn’t break free.

You could feel Sam’s presence, feel the steady strength radiating off of him.

“Y/N,” Sam said softly, his voice like a balm against the chaos in your mind. “You’re okay. You’re safe here. We’re right here. You’re with us. You’re home.”

You closed your eyes, trying to pull yourself together. But every time you thought you could calm down, every time you thought your breath might steady, the fear would flood back. It wasn’t something that could be controlled so easily—not after everything that had happened.

Dean’s hands were still running through your hair, the motions so soothing you could feel yourself sinking into his touch. You couldn’t stop holding on to him, couldn’t stop clutching at the fabric of his shirt with all the strength you had left.

You could feel your body shaking against his, your breath hitching with every sob, and you gripped him even tighter. You felt like you were falling apart, like you couldn’t hold yourself together anymore. But Dean didn’t let you go, even as your own body fought against you.

“I’ve got you,” Dean repeated, his voice a steady murmur as you clung to him. “Breathe, kid. Just breathe. We’ve got you. You’re not going anywhere, Y/N. I won’t let it.”

You couldn’t respond. All you could do was grip him tighter, your fingers still twisted in his shirt, the fabric bunched up so tightly you were afraid you might tear it. But he didn’t say anything about it. He just held you, his chest rising and falling with every breath, trying to match your pace, trying to get you to slow down.

Slowly, piece by piece, you let go of the fear. But only because they were there, holding you together.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe enough to let go—just a little.

Because they were right there, keeping you from falling apart.

[muiitoloko]

If your requests are still open, could you please write an imagine in which reader comes home from the hairdresser all frustrated and in tears because he didn’t do what she asked and Alan Rickman tries to cheer her up and keeps giving her compliments

(I am sobbing because I wanted a bob and my hairdresser wouldn’t cut it the length I wanted and ends up making me feel bad for criticizing his work. I am not a very confrontational person)

Title: The Haircut Catastrophe: A Husband's Remedy

Summary: After an unintentional haircut disaster, you seek comfort in Alan’s humor and warmth. His witty charm helps you embrace the new look, turning heartbreak into laughter.

Pairing: Alan Rickman × Fem! Reader

Warnings: None

Author's Notes: Of course, I'd be happy to write this for you! I'm so sorry your experience at the hairdresser made you feel this way—it’s incredibly frustrating when you don’t get what you asked for, especially when it’s something as personal as your hair. But I promise, Alan Rickman (in the imagine) will make you feel like the most beautiful person in the world, no matter what.

Also read on Ao3

Alan looked up as you entered, the loud slam of the door a clear announcement of your mood. He put his script aside, his gaze instantly softening as you appeared in the doorway with a new haircut, one you'd been excited about all week. He smiled warmly, attempting to play the part of the doting husband, "Well, look at you, darling," he said in that familiar baritone, his words gentle but laced with the charming humor only he could pull off. "You look absolutely radiant. What did they call that one? ‘The Stunning Goddess’?”

At his compliment, your expression crumpled. A small, miserable sob escaped you, and you looked away, fighting back tears. "It’s awful,” you cried, your voice thick with frustration. “I asked them to cut it just a little, Alan—a little—and now it’s so short, it’s horrible. I look like...like…someone trying too hard to be sophisticated and failing miserably.”

Alan's face softened further, though his eyebrows raised just a tad. "Come now, love," he murmured, standing and crossing the room to wrap you in a hug, his arms warm and steady around you as you buried your face against his chest. "It’s hardly a disaster. If I had a pound for every bad haircut I've had—well, I'd have at least six pounds by now."

You let out a teary chuckle despite yourself, feeling the first hint of a smile tug at your lips as he continued. “And frankly, I think you look stunning. More stunning than I could’ve imagined. In fact, I might have to start keeping an eye on you when we’re out, what with all those admiring looks you’ll be getting.”

"But look at it!” you wailed, pulling back to gesture wildly at your hair. “It’s so much shorter! I look like…like a disheveled librarian who lost her way in a windstorm.”

Alan tilted his head, eyeing your hair as if studying a particularly intricate painting. "Darling, disheveled librarian is in right now, didn’t you know? I’m starting to think you’re secretly on the cutting edge of fashion."

You sniffed, half-laughing, half-crying. "Oh, sure, Alan. Go ahead and make jokes. I’m a walking disaster.”

He chuckled, gently wiping a stray tear from your cheek. "Alright, if you insist on seeing yourself as a disaster, then let me say this: I have a bit of a soft spot for you as a ‘walking disaster.’ It’s endearing, truly.” He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “And just think, if they hadn’t cut it so short, we’d have been deprived of this moment where I get to be your dashing, charming, long-suffering husband. My chance to shine, really.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes but feeling your spirits lift a little as you looked up at him. “Only you could turn my tragic hair into an opportunity for your own theatrics.”

"Precisely,” he smirked, one brow quirked in that playful way that made your heart flutter, "and just think how much money we’re saving on shampoo now. Plus, with this new look, you’ll hardly recognize yourself in the mirror, and that’s rather exciting, isn’t it? A fresh start each day.”

You shook your head, feeling laughter bubble up despite yourself. “You’re ridiculous, Alan.”

"And you’re beautiful,” he said, his voice suddenly more serious, his gaze warm as he looked at you. “New haircut, old haircut, wild haircut—makes no difference to me.” He leaned down to brush a soft kiss against your forehead. “You’re my stunning goddess, through and through.”

You sighed, finally letting yourself relax in his arms, the frustration melting away under his warmth and humor. “Alright, Mr. Rickman,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest, “you win. I suppose I’ll survive this haircut after all.”

"Of course you will," he replied smoothly, his voice rumbling with amusement. "And in the meantime, I’ll be here to remind you just how unfairly enchanting you are—disheveled or otherwise.”

You sighed, resting your head against Alan's chest, letting the last traces of frustration ebb away in the warmth of his embrace. But as you relaxed, another thought weighed on your mind, stirring up a different kind of guilt.

“Alan,” you began, voice muffled against his shirt, “I…I have to confess something. I think I may have been a little too harsh on the hairdresser.”

He tilted his head down, his eyes softening as he studied your face. “Oh? What did you say, darling?”

You let out a groan, squeezing your eyes shut as you remembered. “I…well, it wasn’t exactly polite. I told her—very bluntly, might I add—that her own haircut looked like a ‘lopsided bird’s nest.’”

Alan’s lips twitched as he stifled a laugh, a mischievous glint sparking in his hazel eyes. “A ‘lopsided bird’s nest’? My, my, that’s quite the scathing critique. You’re becoming rather bold, aren’t you?”

You covered your face with your hands, shaking your head. “It was awful of me. I’ve never been a confrontational person, you know that. But I was so upset, so frustrated by the cut…I just snapped.”

Alan gently pulled your hands away, a sympathetic smile softening his face. “You’re human, love. It’s perfectly natural to feel upset, especially when something doesn’t turn out as you hoped. And besides, perhaps that hairdresser’s ‘lopsided bird’s nest’ look was her attempt at edgy avant-garde. You might have inadvertently provided her with some much-needed feedback.”

You laughed despite yourself, nudging him lightly. “Don’t encourage me, Alan. I feel terrible. I just… I’m not used to being rude. I try so hard to be kind, but this time—”

He shook his head, cutting you off with a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Darling, we all have moments. Even I have, on occasion, let my frustrations get the better of me.” He gave a theatrical sigh, his tone exaggerated. “I once told a fellow actor that his delivery was ‘a bit like a dying goose’… Needless to say, that didn’t go over well.”

You gasped, eyes widening as you laughed. “Alan! You didn’t!”

“Oh, but I did,” he admitted, with a look of mock horror, “and I still wince whenever I recall it. But I like to think it was a humbling moment, for both of us. Besides, if you can’t occasionally tell a hairdresser her hairstyle resembles a bird’s nest, what’s the point of being married to an actor who excels at saying utterly terrible things in the most charming way?”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling. “Only you could make my rudeness sound like an art form.”

“Exactly,” he replied, his tone sincere as he lifted your chin to meet his gaze. “And remember, no one’s perfect. A moment of frustration doesn’t make you any less kind. But if you’re truly feeling guilty, I could always accompany you back to the salon. We could tell her that the ‘lopsided bird’s nest’ look has really grown on us.”

“Oh, please, Alan,” you laughed, shaking your head. “That poor woman would never recover.”

He shrugged, his lips curving into that playful smirk you loved so much. “Then perhaps we’ll simply enjoy your new look in peace and let bygones be bygones. After all, it’s hardly every day I get to comfort my lovely wife as she mourns the tragic loss of a few inches of hair.”

You sighed, finally smiling without reservation as you looked up at him, the last of your guilt fading away. “Thank you, Alan. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. “Fortunately, you’ll never have to find out. And in the meantime, I’ll be here to remind you that, whether you have long hair, short hair, or no hair at all, you’ll always be my stunning goddess.”

[royal-cupidity]

(Teaser for chapter 11!) ((things are subject to change))

(Insert other paragraphs I totally have finished writing)

The stone floor was polished so smooth it practically laughed at the idea of traction. Every step echoed faintly beneath the domed ceiling. Draped curtains filtered in slats of sun, and gold-fringed veils fluttered at each open archway. For all its beauty, the palace felt more like a cage with velvet bars.

And today?

The cage demanded grace.

Kohaku stood perfectly still, a ceramic bowl balanced atop her head. Her jaw was clenched, her shoulders stiff with tension—not because of the weight, but because she could have been doing literally anything else.

Next to her, Amaryllis glided forward with practiced ease, another bowl perched like a crown.

Behind them, Ginro swayed like a nervous tree branch in the wind.

“Too fast! Too stiff! You there—what even are you doing?!”

The shrill voice of the palace etiquette instructor echoed through the chamber. The woman, draped in outdated silks and spite, stomped toward Ginro with the fury of a thousand disappointed pageant moms.

“I—I’m floating! I’m graceful!” Ginro yelped, struggling to keep the bowl from sliding off his head.

“You look like a wet rat in a windstorm.”

“I’m doing my best!”

“Do better!”

Kohaku gritted her teeth, eyes forward, posture perfect. If this was what it took to gather intel and get closer to the petrification weapon… so be it.

Still, she fantasized about knocking the bowl off her own head just so she could throw it.

Amaryllis gently reached over and adjusted Ginro’s veil. “You’re okay. Just pretend you’re a delicate wind.”

“I don’t know what that means!” Ginro whimpered.

The instructor huffed and turned away to critique another girl’s walk. Kohaku inhaled through her nose, rolling her eyes slightly.

And then—

A low whirring noise.

She blinked. Tilted her head just slightly.

Not enough to move the bowl.

Not enough to draw attention.

But enough to catch it: a small metallic shape moving near the edge of the hallway. Its body was rounded, beetle-like, but clearly mechanical—glinting under the filtered sunlight.

The buzzing grew slightly louder.

Kohaku’s warrior instincts flared.

Her eyes tracked it.

Then—flick—her hand snapped out like lightning, catching the little machine out of the air with two fingers. The ceramic bowl atop her head never even wobbled.

She tucked the bug against her wrist just as the instructor spun back around.

[cleolinda]

Weekend links, March 23, 2025

My posts

I had a spinal procedure on Wednesday (minor; except for seeing all time at once for a couple days, it's fine) and I'm half-resting for a few days after that. But I managed to get the next set of Silent Hill 2 commentary posts up—here's the masterpost for those. I'm currently finishing up the posts for the third video, and (knock on wood) I'll be recording Blue Creek, aka "I have to fight Pyramid Head again," sometime this week. 

Meanwhile, Ian's third stream is also up: "Last night we had our first Pyramid Head encounter, talked about the Schumanns, dove into the wild world of sample manipulation, got a crash course in diatonic vs. nondiatonic chords, and discussed possible interpretations for the coin puzzle." He's already seen my third video (the same level) and tells you exactly where I got my ass kicked.

Reblogs of interest

Some interesting indie games!

Kun'tewiktuk: A Mi'kmaw Adventure: "A fantasy adventure game inspired by Mi’kmaw legend and folklore. It chronicles the adventures of siblings Wasuek ('Flower') and her brother U'n ('Fog'). They get separated one summer morning and they go on an adventure through the spirit world to reunite."

Windstorm: The Legend of Khiimori: "Bond with your horse and tame the open wilds of 13th century Mongolia." ("The developers obviously put a lot of love into finally repping my people as Not Just Generic Bad Guys To Be Slaughtered in QuickTime Events, but the unabashed horse girls we truly are.")

Happy Miette Tweet Anniversary to all who celebrate

happy 10 years to wagon age oregons

Puffy is enough.

"hey gamers I’ve started watching star trek does anyone else see the romantic tension between captain kirk and mr. spock"

A Brazilian opossum being presented to Queen Isabella of Spain in the year 1500 from The Zoogoer v.15:no.1 (1986).

Poll: what font do you like to use most when writing?

"asking you about rothko . just ramble for a bit please"

"You’re just a mammal. Let yourself act like it. Your brain needs enrichment. Your body needs rest."

“you little fucker, I’m going to make a statement and then I’m going to take you out to the parking lot and beat your ass. What good does your pessimism do?”

When language transcends language

As I get back into perfume, I can't tell if I want to try Fairyland Bloop or not. I do not want to try Sécrétions Magnifiques.

"My mom accidentally joined a grieving support group (long story, she’s not grieving tho)" [and] "she says citrus tarts aren’t 'griefy' enough"

"I approve of powerscaling discourse only in utterly senseless contexts" ("Gordon Ramsay can breathe underwater. Can he fix The Chum Bucket")

Video

Wet Beast Wednesday: "sometimes you just gotta gghghghgh. mibph. breh. [sneezes] fibsh."

"Trio for Harmonica, Rubber Duck, and Belt in D Minor." "This is how clowns do BDSM"

Words of wisdom from Lil Nas X: "Stop trying to shit on your haters! Do it for you! Do it because you deserve it! Do it for YOU!"

"disability? more like check out dis ability"

Please enjoy the adventures of Dexter, Squidward, and Chicken Elizabeth Nugget at Carcass Acres

"it is once again… binturong appreciation hour"

For those of you who dont get to see fireflies. Yes they are real and yes they are gentle

The sacred texts

I'm not sure how an argument about kettles and tea turns into iambic pentameter, but

Personal tag of the week

Let's say jewelry, because I love the chocolate box pendant AND the Greek earrings AND the moonstone ring AND the garnet owl ring AND...

[itficlibrary]

Mod Ditchie's top 10 favourite fics!!!

Hi hi hi guys!!! My name is Richie-Richie, he live in a ditchie (it’s a family name) or just Ditchie for short <3 <3 <3 I’m one of the mods for this library of fics!!! Mod Levee and I are so so SO excited to be The Cool Librarians (who you all love and adore and throw flowers at as we pass, which is really getting tiresome, so we ask you to keep it to a minimum from now on)!!! 

We thought that a great way to start off this library would be for the both of us to share ten of our favourite fics each!!! Below you can find mine, in no particular order (which you should believe unquestioningly and wholeheartedly because as I was formulating it I was agonising in Levee’s DMs about which ones to include, like, seriously, if I can’t even decide on my top ten, how could I possibly rank any of these with any confidence?). I hope you guys enjoy all of these as much as I do!!! Most of these are either a) fics that I reread at least once a month or so (for my Mental Health) or b) Formative Fanfics that shaped the way that I write!

With all that meandering out of the way, let’s get into it!

the year of the goat and your kid back by derryfacts2

Frank Kaspbrak POV of maleboss Eddie and malefailure Richie falling in love in college in New York… I love this fic so much you guys… I think about it every day… it has everything… gay Frank and his partner, immaculate 2000’s vibes, Healing with a capital H… please read it I’m begging you (words: 14.8k)

If you could return, don’t let it burn by ShowMeAHero

Richie + Eddie meeting serendipitously during the 27 years…BUT! they don’t meet in person!!! Richie is a radio show host and Eddie is a recurring caller, and they Fall In Love Over The Phone… what if I cry forever…the slow burn is SOOO good!!! This fic also has a second part which is amazing as well!!!  (words: 19.5k) 

Eddie Kaspbrak, Office Uncle Extraordinaire by kyaticlikestea

Outsider POV of Corporate Bitch Eddie and his cringe husband… mainly Eddie-centric, which is great, because Look At Him Go <3 <3 <3 This fic also fulfills the hole in my heart created by the occasional mischaracterisation of Eddie as Angry And That’s It…Eddie Kaspbrak Office Uncle Extraordinaire save me…. (words: 18.9k)

Table for One by oxfordlunch

Chef Eddie who owns his own posh restaurant in New York and semi-famous comedian Richie <3 I love this fic so much y’all… the bickering in this one is chef’s kiss, and the way that the author depicts their relationship is just soooo. Sooo. (grabs you by your shirt and stares Gravely into your eyes like I can see into your very Soul) SOOOO. (words: 4.4k) 

Seymour’s Your Friend by deafpool

I have read this fic at least ten times in the past two months. It means more to me than most of my relatives do. Outsider POV of Richie + Eddie who have known each other since they were tiny little kids. Eddie who is obsessed with Little Shop of Horrors because… get this… Seymour bears an uncanny resemblance to Richie <3 This fic was so formative to me man… I always slip in a LSoH reference where I can because of it <3 <3 (words: 2.9k) 

one, two, powershift by mochi

THIS FIC. OH MAN. Yet another formative fic for me!!! It is a MASTERCLASS in slowburn and angst… Richie comes out to the losers post-canon and predictably Eddie Has A Lot Of Feelings About It… the characterisation is A++ but the way this fic hurts my feelings at points is A-, see me after class so I can give you a Ziploc bag of tears. (words: 48.2k) 

let me name the stars for you by playedwright

The Martian AU. Richie is stuck on Mars when a freak accident happens during a windstorm, and the rest of the losers are stuck floating around in space reeling from his presumed death. Guys, wow, like, this fic is CRAZY, like you wouldn’t believe. It was recommended to me by a friend (with evil intentions? unclear) and I spent like, two straight days doing Nothing but reading this fic. (words: 58.5k) 

the anatomy of a joke by crescenteluce

Post-canon Richie and Eddie getting together!!! Angst with a happy ending… OUGH OUGH OUGH OUGH OUGH guys. I know I’ve already talked up the characterisation of all the fics on this list already but every time I reread this one (which is often) I spend the entire time just saying He Would Fucking Say That out loud. Another formative fic for me! The sequel is also amaaazing!!! (words: 11.7k)

jealous sea by belby

Eddie gets a girlfriend and it fucks Richie up so much that he gets super sick. Which is just like. Honestly the level of pathetic I aspire to write Richie as. They are both So Dumb and I love it so much. Shout out to idiots and also misunderstandings, without whom the fic writing community (and our collective Souls) would be in shambles. (words: 13.5k)

Netflix presents Richie Tozier: Don’t Call My Boyfriend Gay by kyaticlikestea

A transcript for Richie Tozier’s first comedy show since the events of It Chapter Two. Features Richie rambling about everything and anything including his Bestest Friends In The World <3 <3 <3 MAN OH MAN. When I tell you this is probably thee most formative fic for me out of all the lovely ones on this list you best believe it. I think this was probably the first It fic I read, and OH BOY did it set a high bar for everything after it! The entire series is fuuucking amazing too, so definitely check it out as well! (words: 7.8k) 

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Breakthroughs and Breakouts

A JSE Fanfic

SepticHeroes AU: Part 32

First Part | Previous Part | Read on AO3 at CrystalNinjaPhoenix

I almost called this chapter "Jackie's Bad Day" but then I realized that, as funny as it is, it doesn't encompass everything in this chapter. I'll just get right to the summary. Jackie goes to check on Dr. McLoughlin, to see if the other's suspicions have any weight. While there, McLoughlin tells him about his accident. Afterwards, Schneep gathers everyone up to ask for their help. And yeah. Enjoy the chapter! ^-^

===============

Something had been bothering Jackie lately.

Alright, several things had been bothering Jackie lately. The situation with JJ and the Vault, the visit from Kinetics yesterday, the daily stress of being a Hero—even though no major villains had popped up since he defeated the Puppeteer, petty crime would never fully stop—there was a lot to be bothered by. But something that was nagging at him beyond the heavy anxiety of the more serious problems... was Dr. McLoughlin.

Why did McLoughlin have those modified SAMs? If he didn’t make them, why were they in a hidden room in his lab? Marvin’s insistence that McLoughlin was shady kept running through Jackie’s mind... was it true? He couldn’t deny that McLoughlin had several suspicious things surrounding him. The scans of the Puppeteer mask being different than they should be, the way Anti-Virus targeted SepTech, his company, and now this. Maybe... maybe he really was working with Anti-Virus?

But Jackie refused to jump to conclusions. If his recent experiences had taught him anything, it’s that people were more than how they appeared. He should at least give McLoughlin the benefit of the doubt. He should at least check it out on his own.

He walked into the North SepTech location with some slight nerves, but McLoughlin had said Windstorm could visit whenever he wanted. Surely he wouldn’t have a problem with Jackie stopping by now. He let the front desk know he was there, just to be polite, and then headed down the hall to the elevator to the lab.

This was the third time he’d been in here, and it looked the same as it did the last couple times. The conveyor belts, the robotic arms, the monitors everywhere. Everything seemed so close together despite the high ceilings of the large room. “Dr. McLoughlin?” Jackie called. “I know you can hear me! You have cameras and stuff!” He paused. “Are you here?”

After a moment, a nearby monitor turned on and showed the words INTERCOM SYSTEM ACTIVATED—just like last time Jackie was here. “Hey Windstorm!” McLoughlin’s voice came from the speakers. “Come on in! I’m in the middle of the lab.”

“Thanks.” Jackie jumped into the air to get a good look at everything. Once he spotted McLoughlin he flew down, landing next to him.

“Good to see you again!” McLoughlin looked up at Jackie and smiled. He was sitting at a table, with various mechanical parts spread out in front of him. Jackie recognized the spherical exterior of a SAM, cracked open like a coconut with one half to the left and the other to the right. 

“Yeah, good to be here again,” Jackie said, putting a smile on his face as well. “What are you doing? Fixing a SAM? Isn’t that uh... a bit beneath you?”

“What? Beneath me?” McLoughlin laughed. “What d’you mean?”

“Well you own the company and designed the SAMs yourself, it seems like you’d have people to fix the individual Machines,” Jackie explained.

McLoughlin pulled his hands out of the parts, brushing them against each other. “Well I’m not fixing it in the first place. I’m looking to see if there’s anything I can do to improve things. There’s always room for improvement, they say.” He pointed to a nearby cluster of monitors, all of which were showing various blueprints. “I can’t just work on stuff in writing, I need to be able to dig into things and mess around with them physically.”

Jackie nodded slowly. “Do you... work on a lot of SAMs in here?” he asked.

“Sometimes,” McLoughlin said casually. “I also tend to mess around with stuff while I’m doing something else. Heh, sometimes I have SAM here project the blueprints so I can watch something on the monitors.” He stood up from the swivel chair he was sitting in. “Anyway. Anything I can do for you?”

“Oh, uh... I just wanted to get more familiar with your lab,” Jackie said. “Could you give me a tour?”

“A tour?” McLoughlin brightened—but then dimmed again, looking a bit hesitant. “Um... there’s not much to explore, really, I-I’m sure it would bore you.”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t. I mean, I might not understand a lot of what you say, but I’ll be happy to hear about it,” Jackie said.

“You sure?” McLoughlin asked. “I mean, I don’t even know what’s going on here half the time. I have a million things that I started and then didn’t stop, and so much shit in the storage rooms that I just put away and let the computer keep in the database forever.”

Jackie chuckled. “I’m sure. Just walk me through what you have, I’d appreciate any of it.”

McLoughlin nodded slowly. “Alright. Well, um... to start with, uh, a lot of these conveyor belts move things around—uh, obviously they do, that’s what conveyor belts are designed for.” He laughed nervously. “But I mean, there are a lot of parts involved in stuff and sometimes it’s easier for me to let the robot arms do stuff in one location then send it over to me in another...”

They started walking around the lab, going in a zigzag pattern towards the back. McLoughlin explained what each of the robot arms do—some of them are general purpose while others are designed for more specific things, like the ones that have devices on the end to screw things in, or even a couple that have blowtorches on the end! He started explaining the various projects he’d made in the lab. Finding unusual ways to construct computer towers, designing hologram projectors, creating hoverboards—the longer he talked, the stranger his accomplishments became. And the more excited he became about them, until he was absolutely gushing about how he came up with the idea for the SAMs. 

“It was so hard to propose that to the board, let me tell you that,” McLoughlin said. “They usually can’t justify the cost of a lot of my designs. But I figured that if I combine all of my favorite ideas together, then market these as assistants, then the board would go for it. And I was right, haha!”

“So... when did you decide to sell them to the League?” Jackie asked.

“Well I figured that if anyone needed an assistant, it would be Heroes, right?” McLoughlin said. “I was willing to give them for free, but the board insisted. They’re all about profit, you know.” He shrugged. “But I don’t mind. I can’t work on everything all the time, even if I want to. I couldn’t build all the SAMs myself, or even supervise everything. I automate a lot of stuff.” He frowned. “Which... might’ve been a bad idea. After all, maybe if I’d been more, uh, hands-on, our systems wouldn’t have been hacked.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jackie assured him. “I’m sure you have a great firewall. One you didn’t expect would ever be breached.”

McLoughlin sighed. “I guess... but still.” He paused. “I did think that nothing would be able to defeat the—”

“New camera installation completed,” a robotic voice said.

“Gah!” McLoughlin jumped in surprise, then sighed and leaned against the nearest conveyor belt. “Whaddafuk?”

“New camera installation completed,” the voice repeated.

Jackie frowned. “You... didn’t know you were... installing new cameras?”

“I, uh... forgot, I... I guess.” McLoughlin let out a breath. He rubbed his eyes, then reached into his lab coat pocket and pulled out that remote with the single button. “When did I request the infrared cameras?” he asked into it.

“Yesterday at 11:29 am, after the motion detection at 2:01 am two nights ago,” the robotic voice said.

“Ohhh.” McLoughlin nodded. “Yeah, I would do that. Honestly I probably should’ve put in new cameras a long time ago.”

Jackie stiffened. Didn’t Schneep say he snuck into SepTech recently. “So, uh... what motion detection?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, the system woke me up at 2 am recently because of a supposed intruder,” McLoughlin explained. “I have a little bed area set up in Storage Room 18, you know cause I practically live here.” He chuckled. “And there’s a camera in there, you know, for security. The system is set up so that it alerts me of suspicious movement.”

“Was there someone in your room?!” Jackie said, alarmed. Did Schneep really sneak into McLoughlin’s bedroom?! Well, not bedroom, but still, it’s similar, isn’t it? It felt like a breach of privacy.

“Nah,” McLoughlin dismissed. “I toss and turn a lot when sleeping, so I have a blind spot set up over my bed for the motion detection. I must’ve just passed out of the blind spot and triggered the alarm.” He shuddered. “God. What a fucking way to wake up, though. I hate the alarm sound.”

“Well, uh... th-that must be—that must mean it’s working, then.” Jackie forced out a laugh, trying not to think about Schneep possibly breaking into a room while someone was sleeping.

McLoughlin frowned. “I... I guess. It just... brings up... bad memories.”

Jackie blinked. “Bad... memories?”

McLoughlin glanced at him. “Um... you know what? Come over here.” He turned and walked to the side, going around tables and robot arms. Confused, and slightly concerned, Jackie followed him.

They reached the corner of the room, where a bunch of control panels on counters were pushed against the walls, along with four large monitors. At first glance, it didn’t look too different from anywhere else in the lab... but then Jackie saw something. The walls around these counters were stained black. He’d seen patterns like this before. Sooty impact lines. There had been a fire here. Maybe even an explosion. “What’s this?” he asked.

McLoughlin pulled a swivel chair over and sat in it. “Why did you decide to become a Hero?”

Jackie started. What did this have to do with anything? “Uh well... I-I wanted to help people.”

“Why?”

Jackie gave a little laugh. But McLoughin’s usually relaxed expression was different now. Serious and intense in a way the scientist had never been before. “Well... Why does anyone want to help people?” He sighed. “Sorry, that’s not an answer.” Leaning back against the counter, he thought about what to say. “Well if I have to boil it down to one thing, it’s that... It’s just that I don’t want people to be hurt. And when you can do something to help people, you should.”

“What if helping others gets yourself hurt?” McLoughin asked.

Jackie blinked. “Well, it depends on the stakes and how much you’d get hurt. I’ve like, broken bones and twisted ankles and stuff. It sucks but it heals. But if it’s something like... getting shot and dying to some random criminals stealing jewelry or something... then I’d really prefer if that didn’t happen. At least let me die doing something cool like saving the world.” He laughed. The sound slowly fades as he looked back towards McLoughlin. “Why d’you ask?”

“I wanted to figure out how much you’d get what I’m about to say,” McLoughlin explained. “Cause like... I think if you can really change the world, it’s worth it, y’know?”

Jackie nodded slowly. He was beginning to suspect something. “Is this about the accident you were in?”

“Yeah. Yeah it is.” McLoughlin rolled his head back, resting it on the back of the chair as he looked up to the ceiling. “I really like working with robots, but something that’s always annoyed me is the programming side of things. The software and stuff. Doesn’t matter how fucking sweet your robot is, if the computer in its brain has some variables crossed, it can’t do anything with its design.”

“Makes sense,” Jackie said.

McLoughlin grinned. “About three and a half years ago, maybe closer to four now, I was working on this really intense programming project. Something I was sure would help people. It’s kind of hard to explain—and it failed anyway so it doesn’t really matter what it was, I think. But I really think it would’ve helped people. It would’ve made programming things in the future so much easier, we could’ve used it in software to help detect cancer a-and launch space probes and—and so much!”

Jackie raises an eyebrow. “There’s really some program that could’ve done that?”

“Well it was more like a bunch of programs all working together in a big super program, but yeah. I think so.”

“...how does something like that lead to an accident that cost you an eye and an arm?” Jackie asked.

McLoughlin raised his head and turned his chair towards Jackie. “Cause a project that intense takes a lot of computing power. Like a lot. Like... this whole corner here was just walls and walls of hard drives.” He laughed. “I think the power I was using single-handedly caused a couple rolling blackouts. Don’t tell the board I said that. They’d be so mad about the bad PR. Anyway, I kept trying to shrink the program and increase my computing power. The project wouldn’t be any good if it took a whole city power grid to run. For months, it was just that. Shrink the program, boost the power. Shrink the program, boost the power. Shrink the program, boost the—you get the point. Going back and forth making adjustments for like half a year.”

Jackie whistled. “That... sounds like a lot of work.”

“Oh it was. But it was worth it... or at least, that’s what I thought.” McLoughlin sighed. “Then, right when I was on the brink of getting something sustainable... The constrictor burst. And everything just—” He made an explosion sound with his mouth, moving his hands outward to indicate something blowing up. “I was right in the middle of it. I was lucky that I just lost my arm, eye, and all that surface stuff.”

“Holy shit,” Jackie whispered.

“Tell me about it,” McLoughlin said. “But see here’s the thing. I could have left sooner. But I was busy trying to salvage what I had programmed, so it wouldn’t disappear when the hard drives blew up. Transferred it to an external drive. Standing in the middle of everything, hearing that alarm go off around me while I waited for the transfer.. .” He shuddered. “Bad memories. I hate that alarm sound.”

“Yeah I don’t blame you, fucking hell.” Jackie shook his head. “That was really worth risking your life for? Worth losing your arm and eye for?”

“Well... I thought so at the time,” McLoughlin said slowly. “But, uh... what I got away with wasn’t really what I wanted.” He shrugged. “Still, it worked out in the end, I think. I used some of the code from that project for a lot of other stuff, like the SAMs. And I do like what I came away with in the end.”

“What you... came away with?” Jackie asked slowly.

McLoughlin didn’t answer right away, facing away from Jackie. Then he snapped out of whatever trance he was in and turned back to him. “My cool cybernetics,” he said, grinning. 

Jackie laughed. “You’re happy about that?”

“Fuck yeah I am. I mean, it really sucked to get them. I...” His smile slipped. “I don’t think I’ll ever be in so much pain... ever again...” Then it returned. “But these are basically the same thing. The synthetic skin even feels stuff. It was real fucking hard to get the artificial neurons to work right. Don’t get me started on the eye—it’s basically a camera but it was so hard to hook up, I had to turn everything upside down. But at least the vocal synthesizer was easy. All the pieces were already in place.”

“Vocal synthesizer?” Jackie repeated, standing up straight.

“Oh yeah, my vocal cords got shredded,” McLoughlin said casually. “I know, I don’t sound like a robot, do I? I already had voice samples to work with. I basically sound the same as before.”

“So, like... you work with voice synthesizers a lot, then?” Jackie asked. “You’re really familiar with them?”

McLoughlin tilted his head. “Uh, I guess, yeah. Why do you ask?”

“I was just thinking... about the Puppeteer mask,” Jackie said slowly.

“Huh? You mean the synthesizer the Puppeteer used to speak?”

Jackie nodded.

McLoughlin stared at him. He stood up. “Do you think I should’ve recognized that there was a synthesizer in there?” He sighed. “They’re really small, Windstorm. It’s hard to identify anything inside that mask with just your eye. It’s why I let the computer scan it. Besides, it was inserted behind the plastiglass surface and hidden from view. Yeah, maybe if someone hadn’t messed with the scans, I could’ve recognized it. But they did.”

Jackie nodded. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything.”

“Offend me?” McLoughlin looked confused.

“I don’t know, you might’ve thought I was implying something.”

McLoughlin paused for a moment more, then his eyes widened. “Oh! You mean—oh.” He laughed. “No, I mean—I would suspect me of something too, if I was in your shoes. No worries.” He shrugged. “Besides, if I was really working with the Puppeteer and this Anti-Virus guy, I would’ve given them a better synthesizer. One that didn’t make him sound so robotic.”

Jackie laughed. “I guess. If you could sound like a real person, why wouldn’t you?” That all made sense to him. But... remembering the modified SAMs Schneep had seen, he stayed a bit cautious. He wanted to ask more about McLoughlin’s project that led to his accident. But he had to remember what he was here for. “Hey, can we keep looking around? Or is the mood ruined?”

“We can keep going,” McLoughlin said. “But we’ve been here for a while now. Is there anything, like, specific you want to see?”

“Uh, I think you mentioned storage rooms?” Jackie said. “What’s in there?”

“A bunch of stuff, really. I don’t even know what I’ve shoved into those rooms.” McLoughlin laughed. “We can check it out together. C’mon.”

The two of them walked to the edge of the room, where the doors lined the walls. McLoughlin explained that there were twenty rooms on each side, adding up to a total of forty rooms. Hearing that made the task of checking all of them seem daunting, but he had to do it, didn’t he? So he went with McLoughlin as they checked the rooms one by one

“Oh. Huh.” After a while, McLoughlin pulled at the handle of one door—Storage Room 10. “This one’s locked.” He pulled out his remote and spoke into it. “What’s in Storage Room 10?”

“Spare parts for the production of computer towers,” the computer replied. “Including graphic cards, fans, water cooling—”

“Okay thank you,” McLoughlin said quickly.

Jackie frowned. “Is it... normal to have locked storage rooms?”

“Oh yeah, all the time. I think Rooms 30-40 are always locked.” McLoughlin shrugged. “You don’t need stuff from there all the time, you know?”

“Hmm...” Jackie thought about it. “Can we go in anyway?”

“Huh? You sure?” McLoughlin looked doubtful. “I mean... there’s not much exciting stuff in the Storage Rooms in general. You want to look at a bunch of spare computer parts?”

“Just... humor me on this?”

“Uh, sure.” McLoughlin gave him an odd look, but then spoke into the remote. “Unlock the door to Storage Room 10.”

“Unlocked,” said the robotic voice.

Jackie reached for the door and tried to pull it open—but it didn’t move. He tried to push it, but it still didn’t move. He tried to slide it. Same result. “It’s not unlocked.”

“...weird,” McLoughlin muttered, confused. He spoke into the remote again. “Unlock the door to Storage Room 10.”

“Unlocked.”

Jackie tried again. Still nothing. “No dice.”

“Really weird,” McLoughlin said. He spoke into the remote once more. “Uh, hello? Storage Room 10 is not unlocked. Why are you saying it is?”

“Unlocking Storage Room 10 now. Unlocked.”

“Is something wrong with this?” McLoughlin shook the remote, then turned it over and over to examine it.

Jackie’s superhero instincts were going crazy. This could be a weird glitch with McLoughlin’s remote—or it could be a cover-up of some kind. “Which way does this door open?” he asked. “Inward or outward?”

“Inward, why?”

“Stand back.” Jackie walked backwards, making sure he had a clear path to the door.

McLoughlin’s eyes widened. “Wait, what are you—”

With a yell, Jackie ran forward, the wind pushing him to speed up. He concentrated all his force in the point of his shoulder, and sprinted into the door.

WHAM!

He bounced backwards, shoulder smarting with pain that ran into his neck too. “Owowowow! Son of a bitch!” Jackie cursed. The door hadn’t even jiggled a bit.

“Holy shit, Windstorm!” McLoughlin gaped at him, shocked. “You don’t need to get in there that badly!”

“Dr. McLoughlin, trust me when I say that I do,” Jackie insisted.

“Alright, fine, let’s find some other way to open it then, fucking hell,” McLoughlin grumbled. “SAM?” The custom SAM of his, which had been following them this whole time, darted off. McLoughlin’s fake eye shifted color, going from a normal greenish to a glowing, acidic green instead. “I’m looking around for some tool or something... do you think a screwdriver would help?”

“Hmm.” Jackie examined the door. “What, are you saying we should take off the doorknob? I guess that might work. These screws are cross-shaped.”

McLoughlin looked at the screws on the doorknob. “Yeah... I think this will fit.”

“So you can see through the camera on your SAM?” Jackie asked, impressed.

“Yep. It really comes in handy. But I don’t recommend it all the time. You get a bit motion sick.”

The SAM flew back over, its peripheral wrapped around a small screwdriver with a gray handle. Jackie took it and started trying to unscrew the doorknob. McLoughlin stood by the side and watched silently. It took an infuriating few minutes, but eventually, Jackie had the doorknob in pieces, dangling on either side of the metal door. He tried to push the door open again. It felt stuck, but this time, he could tell there was some give. So he gritted his teeth and shoved it hard. With a few seconds of effort, the door flew open, and Jackie stumbled inside.

He looked up... and his jaw dropped. The room was full of deconstructed SAMs, many with their attachments out. He’d been in this hero business long enough to recognize guns and other weapons when he saw them. They were piled on tables and shelves, in the middle of being constructed. Slowly, Jackie turned back around, looking at McLoughlin. “...care to explain this?” he said quietly.

“Huh?” McLoughlin stepped up, looking into the room. “Oh... That’s not computer parts.”

“Yeah no shit!” Jackie said. “What is this all doing here?!”

“I guess I mislabeled the SAM parts,” McLoughlin said.

“Not the SAMs! Well, not just the SAMs! All the—the fucking weapons?!”

“The what?!” McLoughlin pushed past Jackie into the room, head spinning around. His face drained of color. “Wh-what the fuck? When did—why—wh-what are—Weapons?!”

“Are you saying you don’t know what these are doing in here?!” Jackie demanded.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying!” McLoughlin said. “I don’t—I don’t even remember the last time I checked this room! Ohhhh fuck. Oh god.” He rubbed his face. “Why the fuck is it always me?”

“You have to know how this looks,” Jackie said, glaring and crossing his arms.

“Yeah of fucking course I know how it looks! Shit!” McLoughlin shook his head. “Windstorm, I swear I didn’t know anything about this. I-I swear on my life. On—on every SAM we’ve created! I don’t know why there’s a room full of weapons in my lab, but I have nothing to do with it!”

“Okay, so how did they get in here, then?” Jackie asked. “Did someone sneak them in?”

“I—I guess? I-I don’t know how, since... this is my lab...” McLoughlin trailed off. “I, uh... I usually keep the doors locked while I’m not in here. But some people in the building have the clearance to unlock it. Maybe they came in while I was out? Oh!” His eyes widened. “Or maybe—maybe that motion detection thing wasn’t a false alarm! Maybe someone—someone with superpowers or something, maybe they’ve been working on the SAMs in here secretly!”

Jackie shifted on his feet. That “false alarm” was Schneep, it wasn’t someone sneaking SAMs into McLoughlin’s lab. But still, didn’t it open up the possibility? If Schneep was able to break in, what if some other superperson could? But... “The problem is, why would someone break into your lab to secretly put weapons on SAMs?” Jackie asked.

“Maybe they need the equipment? I don’t know.” McLoughlin shook his head. “But I promise you, Windstorm, I swear on everything I have, I didn’t know anything about anything in this room.”

Jackie scanned McLoughlin’s face. He didn’t see any malice or general shiftyness in his expression. But that didn’t mean anything. McLoughlin could simply be very good at deception, at hiding his true feelings. He seemed like an open person, but was that a facade? Even so... Jackie couldn’t jump to conclusions. He couldn’t. He had to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. But this was so, so, so, SO suspicious. “You know I’ll have to tell the League about this, right?” he asked.

McLoughlin nodded. “Of course, of course.”

“You’ll probably be put under some sort of watch. You know that?”

“Makes sense.” He laughed. “Though I don’t really go anywhere interesting for people to watch.”

“All these SAMs will be taken away.”

“Oh fuck, yeah, take them. I’ll start moving them out right now, if you want.” McLoughlin took out his remote and pressed the button again. “Can we begin clearing out Storage Room 10?”

“Yes, Dr. McLoughlin,” said the robotic voice. Some of the arms started whirling to life, moving along tracks above and reaching down. Inside the room, more robotic arms pop out of the walls and start grabbing SAMs, passing them to each other, taking them out of the room and into the main lab.

“Oh!” Jackie started in surprise. “That’s... pretty elaborate. Why not just get some workers down here? Surely SepTech has employees for that.”

“Yeah, but why make people do it when you could build robots?” McLoughlin grinned. Then his smile fell. “I’ll fully cooperate with any investigation into this, you know. I... I-I want to know who would do this. This isn’t what the SAMs were meant for. It’s... not at all what they were meant for.” His voice became quiet at the end, his expression softening into a vague sadness.

Jackie nodded slowly. “I’ll call the League right now to get advice on that.” He started backing away, reaching into the pocket of his suit.

“You do that.” McLoughlin turned away, watching the robotic arms work.

After a moment of hesitation, Jackie turned and walked some distance away, out of earshot but somewhere he could still see McLoughlin. He jumped into the air, hovering about six feet off the ground, and took out the Red Line... and then something buzzed in his pocket. Jackie took that out, as well, checking the screen. A text from Schneep. Can we meet at Neun Park today?

A chill went down Jackie’s spine. He wasn’t sure if it was caused by fear, or anticipation, or something else entirely. He glanced around; there were definitely cameras in here, even if he couldn’t see them. Cameras that Anti-Virus could hack... if hacking was even necessary. Perhaps Anti-Virus always had access to cameras in SepTech. Anyway, the point was he’d have to wait until he was outside to answer that. For now, he put his phone back into his pocket.

===============

It was a while before the group could meet up. Jackie wanted to stick around to make sure that all the SAMs got moved out of McLoughlin’s lab. They did, and then they went into a different storage room up on another floor. Which wasn’t a perfect solution, since they were still within easy access for anyone who could get into SepTech, but at least it was out of McLoughlin’s lab. And even if Jackie wasn’t busy supervising all that, Chase had work for most of the day. So they had to wait for him to be done. By the time everyone arrived in Neun Park, it was starting to get dark.

“Stupid early sunsets,” Marvin grumbled. “I always hated them.”

“Yeah, it sucks,” Chase agreed. 

“Can we get to business quickly?” Schneep asked, unusually nervous.

“Yeah, of course.” Jackie bounced on his feet. He’d just pulled his street clothes on over his supersuit, as he was planning on going back out on patrol once this was done. His patrols had been really lacking lately, as he’d been concerned with the whole... JJ in jail and Anti-Virus running amok thing. “Why’d you call us out here, Schneep?”

“Well, ah, Marvin has something to say first,” Schneep said.

Marvin nodded. “You know that van that took Dahlia away? My contacts found out what happened to it.”

Jackie stood up straight. “What? What happened to it?”

“Well I don’t know for sure, but I talked to someone who talked to someone,” Marvin said. “The van was purchased on the black market and modified at a client’s request. It was then picked up by a man in a mask and hood. About three days later, it was returned, along with a promise of more money if the modifier sold it somewhere out of the city. The modifier did so, and a packet of money ended up at their place of work the next day.”

“Hmm.” Jackie frowned. “I’m guessing the modifier doesn’t remember who the client was, or what the man in the mask looked like.”

“No, it was all done anonymously, over emails and phone,” Marvin said. 

“Digital stuff, then,” Chase summed up. “And if it was sold out of the city... does that mean... that Anti-Virus is in the city?”

“I was thinking the same thing!” Jackie nodded vigorously. “Or at least—he was in the city at the time. If he wanted it out of here, then it probably means he wanted it as far from him as possible.” He paused. “I mean... it’s not... much of a lead. I was kinda assuming Anti-Virus was in the city anyway. And that... Dahlia was here, too. But it’s a lead!”

Marvin nodded. “I can ask for more, but I wanted to bring that up before Schneep said whatever he was going to—”

“We are going to break JJ out of jail,” Schneep blurted.

Silence.

“I’m sorry, what the fuck?!” Chase blurted. “Isn’t that—isn’t that fucking—illegal?”

Schneep laughed. “Why yes, yes it is.”

“Henrik!” Marvin hissed. “I didn’t agree to telling them!”

“Well I knew you would never agree,” Schneep said. “So I decided to go ahead.”

“You didn’t know that! You can’t just do this!”

“We need your help, Jackie,” Schneep continued.

“Don’t ignore me!” Marvin stepped in front of Schneep. “You can’t just tell him that! I didn’t agree to that! You can’t just steamroll me without talking about it!”

Schneep bristled—and then took a deep breath. “I suppose I... should not have... been so blunt. I am sorry. I just—I could not—w-we really need Jackie’s help, and I didn’t... I-I could not stand dancing around the subject any more, debating if we should or should not ask him.”

Marvin sighed. He looked at Jackie. “...well? How do you feel about that? About... breaking someone out of the Vault?”

The conversation had seemed distant until that question. Like it was happening at the end of the tunnel. But as Marvin directly addressed Jackie, he snapped back to the world, fully immersed in it again. “I... I just... why?” he whispered.

“Why do we want to break him out?” Schneep asked. He barked out a laugh. “You agree that he does not deserve to be there! It is injustice. He is being blackmailed, and they will keep him in there just because his powers are supposedly dangerous. They will not help him. They will not protect him. Because it is easier to have him stay there than do their jobs.” He shook his head. “It is not fair. If they will not do their jobs, then they do not get to keep him there. In that place. You know they keep the prisoners there injected with neutrinalin? Despite the side effects?” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “I... I know JJ will be reluctant to leave. H-he will be worried about Dahlia. But if we can keep this under wraps enough, if we can execute an operation so smoothly that the League decides not to cause a fuss, then things will be easier. And Jackie... the best way to do that is to have you help. You are a Hero. You could have information that the rest of us cannot.” He looked Jackie straight in the eyes. “Please... I know you would not stand for this, either.”

Jackie nodded slowly. “I... I’m a Hero...” he said quietly.

“Knew you would say that,” Marvin muttered.

Normally Jackie would’ve snapped at that, but he didn’t have the energy to. His mind was scrambling, his thoughts and emotions moving too fast for him to even identify. He took a deep breath, turning and walking away. He stared at the strange abstract statue for a moment, putting his hands behind his head as he thought. Everyone had been very blunt about JJ’s chances. He was a Hero. He couldn’t break the law. But he also couldn’t let someone innocent stay in jail, could he?

Then, after a moment, he turned right around and came back. “I can’t be directly involved in this,” he said in a low voice, pulling the three guys together. “I can get you information somehow, but I can’t do anything in the actual breakout part. If something goes wrong and I get caught, you lose your guy on the inside. In fact, try to keep me in the dark as best you can. Do you guys understand this?”

Marvin’s eyes widened in shock. Schneep nodded seriously, and after a moment, Marvin did too.

“So we’re really gonna do this?” Chase asked.

“You do not have to, Chase,” Schneep said.

“Well I... I know that I probably won’t be able to do much, but... if there’s anything I can do, I-I want to,” Chase said. “JJ’s still my friend.”

“I’m... sure he’d... appreciate that, Chase,” Marvin said awkwardly.

“We will see how things go,” Schneep said. “In the planning. Let us know what you can do, Chase.”

Chase nodded.

“Also, we can’t like... house JJ at any of our homes,” Jackie said. “We all have a bunch of electronic stuff that Anti-Virus can hack. He absolutely cannot know JJ is out. If he does find out somehow, he can’t know where he was. JJ needs to be somewhere without anything that connects to the Internet.”

“Kanchana can help with that,” Marvin said. “She has safe houses all over.”

“She huh?” Jackie blinked. “Why?”

“It’s for henches,” Marvin said.

“...henchpeople hiding from the police?” Chase asked.

“Sometimes, but usually it’s henches hiding from villains,” Marvin explained. “Sometimes a hench works for a particularly heinous villain, and they need to be protected while Kanchana gets HUAC ready to go after them. I’m sure she has something that can meet our needs.”

Jackie nodded. “That’s perfect.” He paused. “Uh... Schneep? What did you mean about... neutrinalin side effects?”

“I didn’t know, either,” Marvin muttered darkly. “Apparently if you have neutrinalin in your system for a couple days you start getting headaches and nausea. The League told SDER departments about this, but not Heroes, apparently.”

“...ah.” Jackie blinked. “I... Putting aside the... injecting harmful chemicals into people thing—”

“A big thing to put aside,” Chase said, looking alarmed.

“—why wouldn’t the League tell Heroes that? What if a villain kept injecting them with neutrinalin?”

“It does not make sense,” Schneep agreed. “There have been situations like that. Why not warn Heroes about that?”

“And they know about the side effects and keep putting it in the villains at the Vault!” Marvin said. “Surely there are better ways to restrain a super! Ones that don’t involve side effects! Fuck, the League makes me so angry.”

“Honestly, I... I see where you’re coming from,” Jackie whispered.

Marvin looked at him. He nodded. “Thanks,” he said simply.

“Now... we need to talk about what to do about the breakout,” Schneep said. “While we are here. Oh, but do either of you have anything to say?” He looked at Jackie and Chase.

“Nah, bro, of course not.” Chase laughed.

Jackie hesitated. He remembered everything that happened earlier that day. Everything with McLoughlin. But... he couldn’t bring it up. He wasn’t sure why. He just... he knew how the others would react. They would insist that McLoughlin was suspicious, but he knew that! He knew what he was doing. He wouldn’t be taken in, he would remain cautious, but he would not say that McLoughlin was, for sure, Anti-Virus. Even if he was doing something wrong, there was no proof of the Anti-Virus link. He would not accuse someone unrelated, even if they had committed a crime. He would not do what they had done to JJ.

“No, I don’t have anything else,” Jackie said. “Let’s talk about what to do now.”

[aprilisthecruelestmonth]

Hi! The event looks fun :) Do you have the list of prompts in writing, so it can be easily copied into a document for planning/writing?

Thank you. :)

Of course! Anything to make it easier for all of you!

Day One:

Cornered-|-Whipped-|-Blood on hands-|- “Please… let me go”

Day Two:

Brave face-|-Branding-|-Self-sacrifice-|- “Pick on someone your own size”

Day Three:

Paranoia-|-Framed-|-Can’t Speak-|- “I don’t want to hear it”

Day Four:

Falling from a high place-|-Hunted-|-Fever-|- “I’m scared”

Day Five:

Slavery-|-Mind Control-|-Forced to beg-|- “It’s too late to ask for forgiveness”

Day Six:

Overprotective-|-Hidden Injury-|-Amputation-|- “I can’t do this”

Day Seven:

Panic Attack-|-Poisoned-|-Exhaustion-|- “No, no hospitals”

Day Eight:

Blackmail-|-Cursed-|-Made to watch-|- “Why did you do it?”

Day Nine:

Amnesia-|-Explosion-|-Failed Escape-|- “I don’t feel a pulse”

Day Ten:

Touch starved-|-Gunshots-|-Presumed Dead-|- “It’s your fault”

Day Eleven:

Nausea-|-Concussion-|-Secret Reveal-|- “Why did you come back?”

Day Twelve:

Dehydration-|-Tied up-|-Torture-|- “I wish you were dead”

Day Thirteen:

Explosion-|-Fainting-|-Fighting through the pain-|- “What did you say?”

Day Fourteen:

Medical Injury-|-Drugged-|-Pre-mortem Autopsy-|- “It’s not too late”

Day Fifteen:

Screams-|-Drowning-|-Fallen through the ice-|- “I’m so, so sorry”

Day Sixteen:

Sleep Deprivation-|-Choked-|-Hostage Situation-|- “Give them room to breathe”

Day Seventeen:

Phobias-|-Burned-|-Public Execution -|- “Just grin and bear it”

Day Eighteen:

Abandonment Issues-|-Used as Bait-|-Unconventional Weapon-|- “We can’t leave them”

Day Nineteen:

Stranded-|-Animal Bites-|-Self-surgery-|- “Not everyone makes it out”

Day Twenty:

Earthquake-|-Collapsed-|-Suffocation-|- “Everything hurts”

Day Twenty-One:

Stockholm Syndrome-|-Broken Bone-|-Withdrawl-|- “Don’t leave me here”

Day Twenty-Two:

Migraine-|-seizure-|-Running on Adrenaline -|- “Don’t speak”

Day Twenty-Three:

Confrontation-|-Stumbling-|-Scar Reveal-|- “Don’t let them in”

Day Twenty-Four:

Vengeance-|-Humiliated-|-A Game of Roulette-|- “Why can’t I move?”

Day Twenty-Five:

Stalker-|-Blindfolded-|-Friendly Fire-|- “You said you loved me”

Day Twenty-Six:

Infection-|-Beaten-|-Failed Escape -|- “It’s too late. They’re inside”

Day Twenty-Seven:

Weeping-|-Kidnapped-|-Running out of air-|- “It’s not my blood”

Day Twenty-Eight:

Over Work-|-Accident-|-Head Injury -|- “Where does it hurt?”

Day Twenty-Nine:

Windstorm-|-Broken Trust-|-No place to go-|- “I don’t want to talk about it”

Day Thirty:

Being Carried-|-Hyperventilating-|-Waking up disoriented-|- “I just need a hug”

Alt prompts:

1- Insomnia

2- Fall Guy

3- Whumper turned Caretaker

4- Twisted Knife

5- Pick who dies

6- Hot Coals

7- Ice Burns

8- Pulling Teeth

9- Waterboarding

10- Electrocution

[wuxiaphoenix]

Stray Thoughts: The Forest and the Trees

Many fantasy stories have elves living in the equivalent of tree cities a la Ewok Village. Without much in the way of explanation besides elves being magically connected to nature, or something. While I’m just as fond of Standard Fantasy Tropes as the next avid SFF reader, when it comes to writing, I think Justified Tropes are just more fun.

(Yes, also more work. But that stretches your creativity, and that can be great fun.)

So... elves dwelling in treehouses and tree-cities. How do we build this into a more solid world than just Because Magic?

Well, first, these can’t be regular trees. They have to be taller and sturdier than the average oak; probably sturdier if not taller than your average redwood, to support the weight of buildings and people. Also note that if they’re taller than redwoods, they’re definitely magic. Redwoods have maxed out the height a tree can reach and still get water all the way from its roots to its leaves. The physical properties of water and xylem-phloem transport top out at, IIRC, about 140 feet above ground level. So if you want three-hundred-foot monster trees, something beyond standard Earth physics is at work.

Second, there has to be a huge value to the society for tree-living, big enough to offset the energy and time costs of hauling all your building materials into trees, arranging for waste disposal down and away from them, and harvesting and hauling up all the food supplies and water you can’t get from the trees themselves. Now, you could explain this with religion; human societies throughout history have done all kinds of costly things if it was considered the Right and Proper Way. But if you’re building a world from scratch, wouldn’t it be much more interesting if living on the ground was dangerous? Graboids. Not-deer. A zombie apocalypse. All of those would be excellent reasons to want to be off the ground most of the time. Especially at night when you need to sleep.

Third, you have to defend your home from anything that would uproot the trees. Graboids and humans with axes are obvious dangers. Earthquakes, windstorms, bark-burrowing beetles, and magical fire will also ruin your day.

Fourth, think about what a tree-dwelling race would be armed with, when you need to fight around branches. Elves with longbows may be a classic image, but have you tried firing a longbow in a tree? Maybe a compound bow or crossbow would make more sense.

Despite all this, crafting a society that thrives in the trees could be interesting. Orchard and nut trees would be a given. Hops and other fruiting vines and brambles can be trained into the treetops. A big enough tree can, like a redwood, gather small patches of dirt in the crooks of limbs that can be gardened. Linden leaves and acorns mean you can have flour without fields. And while the invasive vine called the air potato is no good for humans, a skilled plant-crafter might do some interesting things with what used to be normal crops.

A fantasy trope doesn’t have to be unrealistic. Throw in some weird real stuff and make it plausible! Your readers will love it.

[distinctlackofnightingales]

listen i know that nobody is going to see this or will just scroll past it but on the off chance this ends up on the dash of someone willing to help a girl out then have a snippet of a little fic i’m writing for whumptober bc i’m irrationally terrified my writing is shit lmao

uhhh just in case tw for implied gun violence (1941)

It is dark, and Crowley’s hands are shaking like leaves in a windstorm, and he has never been this terrified in his life.

There is a gun in his hands and an angel in front of him, and nothing about this is familiar but the warm steady presence across from him that he knows without looking is Aziraphale.

Their eyes lock, just for a moment.

He’s still shaking, violently, finger slipping fron the trigger.

Aziraphale mouths, trust me.

The trigger’s tension pulls taut and then shatters as his finger jerks with a tremor.

The gun snaps and snarls.

It is dark.

And quiet.

Somewhere behind him, the screaming starts.

[talenlee]

July 2024 Wrapup!

I don’t know if there’s any kind of rhyme to go with July. I think when I set this post up at first I had some idea about the fist being a symbol for paper rock scissors, but now I’m saying it I don’t think that’s the case. Anyway, July ends! July has drawn to its miserable close, its cold and haunted month and – oh I should go schedule a COVID booster.

But while I do that, you should check out this festival of fun writing, articles and videos that are all about the stuff I have made and done throughout the course of July, paid for with the support of my beloved Patrons, and presented here, for you, to read, for free.

First of all, every week I do a Game Pile article, which is a treatment of a game of some sort. This month we had:

Princess Wing, a TTRPG that by one metric, is better than Dungeons & Dragons 5.5.

Traffic Department 2192, a game from the 1990s that was ‘made wrong’ – a hugely overwritten novel of a book that has cool fly-shooty levels between it.

Knit Wit, a beautifully produced game about playing with the social, which is predicated on its exclusions.

and finally Fox and I played Pet or Pass with the creatures of Thunder Junction! See what critters from that Magic: The Gathering set we have opinions on!

Also, for those of you hungering for more time with Fox and me, you can check out our playthrough of Day of the Tentacle (part 1, part 2)!

Then there’s the Story Pile articles, where I take a piece of media and inspect it from a few angles.

Barry, Season 4, which wraps up a show I really liked and did a good job of it!

The Phantom of the Paradise, a movie demonstrating that the surreality of the 70s just looks like the queerness of the now.

Shy, which sucks.

Love Flops, which sucks also but in a way that’s pretty interesting to talk about.

Zom 100, which absolutely whips ass because we all deserve a little treat.

Do you want to read me talking about making games? I did a bunch of that this month! First, even a little tangential, there’s an assessment of things that Brennan Lee Mulligan does in his dungeonmastering that I can use for myself. I also did a reflection article about Lysen Co, talked about specifics in making the Loom videos and the Youtube interface problems it presented. I shared a tool I use when dealing with students and other designers to consider the choices they make in their game, in the form of 50 questions. Then I even did a treatment for a game concept I’ve wanted to make for a while now, Intergalactic Paper Rock Scissors.

There were some thoughts about ‘evil people’ this month in world building. Specifically, I got thinking about Demons and Ogres, and the ways that stories represent them as threats for people to deal with. But don’t worry, there’s also some nerdy stuff about street food and magical theories!

If you like reading about older editions of Dungeons & Dragons we had two articles in the specific genre of ‘whoops, this was a mistake’ design stories. One, I did an article about the absolutely broken ridiculousness of Psychofeedback, a power so wonky that it needs an article explaining how it’s wonky, and the 4th edition class the Blackguard, which not only fails to deliver on its promise, but makes it worse.

Sometimes a shirt design is just a matter of a joke in my mind that I go ‘hey, can I make that design look good?’ and never whether or not anyone wants it. Anyway, here’s a design based on two ideas crossing over.

July was a big month, wasn’t it? I try to not let real world events play into things on this blog – the impersonal, kinda thing. Still, July featured a major windstorm, two major international news incidents that distracted me at length, power outages and a weekend where I couldn’t get into my work email right before the start of semester. Which means that as this month winds down I’ve been kind of exhausted, but in a totally new way. Like, I don’t have to worry about this happening, I don’t imagine anyone’s going to shoot at a Presidential candidate for the first time in my lifetime again.

Wait hang on, maybe I was alive when Reagan got shot at.

A chunk of July is spent between teaching. That means there’s no income but it also means there’s no demands. July was largely spent grinding my way through some PhD writing and trying to address my backlog on the blog. That felt productive, and man, literature review writing is really fun and interesting after Methodology writing. I found a new favourite academic, and I’m going to feel really embarrassed if she ever finds my work and roasts it.

That was an impact on my videos next month; I thought I’d have a lot to say about one of the topics, but it turns out the game is very fluid and easy, and mostly it pulled me back to two sources I really like – The Art of Failure and Paratexts: Thresholds of Interpretation. Which is itself, a whole thing. It’s wild to write this month’s wrapup post and realise that I’m already a step ahead. As I write this, my scripted videos for August are made, and they’re scheduled on Youtube, ready to go. Part of what let me do that was getting the videos for July done ahead of time — which did mean moving something from July to September.

We’ll see how that goes when it drops.

It’s a little thing too but I’ve been practicing card handling all month. Whenever I’m nervous I try to shuffle a deck of cards controlling the same pair of cards to the top, every time. This has been such an extensive practice that now, one of those two cards has my fingernails worn in the top of it, which tells you that this deck of cards is in fact, a bit bad.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!