#Neon Blue Crop Top

[keepthatpump]

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[jiminiecrickets]

27 CLUB. GETO / M!READER / GOJO

summary. satoru's crushing on suguru but finds out he's got a boyfriend! you are, however, equally dreamy, and if satoru was capable of such introspection, he might realise he has a type...

wc. 9.7k

tags. smut | dom top reader, switch bottom geto, sub bottom gojo; established geto/reader. non-sorcerer + rock/metal musician reader, reader is described as a big guy. skinny gojo supremacy, geto with piercings. somno, riding, doggystyle, exhibitionism, dub-con, degradation/praise, daddy kink (once; r. receiving), humiliation, gojo's a crybaby, edging, frotting, choking, overstimulation, gojo gets passed between reader + geto for a bit

"You brought me to a dive bar? Lame."

Suguru's brow twitches, but he says nothing – outwardly. "You were the one begging me to let you come with. Pick a side."

"I'm on the side of good music. I don't want to hear screeching kids out past their bedtimes."

"You think that's the sort of thing I listen to?"

"I mean," Satoru waves a hand in Suguru's general direction, eyeing his choice of clothes, "your outfit has so many holes in it. You could pass as a rebellious delinquent. Like one of them gyarus."

"I do not—" Suguru inhales, shaking his head; leave it to Satoru to think fishnets and cropped shirts count as clothes full of holes. His bangs sway over his eyes; for the first time in perhaps forever, his hair is loose. Satoru can't take his eyes off it when it shines blue-black under the street's neon lights. "I'm not falling for that again. Now, stop dragging your feet. We're here."

They halt in front of a big, dark block of cement. Its windows are blacked out with curtains, and years' worth of posters pasted to the walls overlap, flaking and peeling until only the fuzzy back sliver of the paper remains. The dates on the posters keep changing – the oldest one is from 1998. The ones on top are advertising weeks in the future, up to a month, and the shitty photo-editing reeks of their garage-band histories and amateurish natures.

One of the posters catches Satoru's attention. A young, attractive woman with dark hair and very few clothes on smoulders at him.

With a question on the tip of his tongue, Suguru approaches his side and follows his gaze questioningly. The eye-roll he gives is so quick it's almost pre-emptive. With a hand draped in black and silver jewellery, he grabs the back of Satoru's collar and hauls him away, almost lifting him clean off his feet. "Goodness, Satoru... Have some decency for once in your life."

"Hey! I thought you'd appreciate me taking an interest in your hobbies. And be gentle with that! It's designer!"

Suguru only lets go at the bottom of the stairs, where the evening light abruptly dims and every surface becomes twenty per cent stickier. Satoru grimaces at the palm of his hand, having caught himself against the wall when Suguru tossed him into the dingy basement like a sack of potatoes.

"This place is a real trash heap," he complains – or shouts, rather. The bass in the music rattles his bones like maracas. The place is less like a bar and more like a club. His sunglasses slip down his nose from the vibrations alone, and he pushes them up with a disapproving sniff. "Why couldn't we stay above ground? There seemed to be a perfectly okay bar up on the roof. Looked real nice and moody, too – good for dates."

"Because up there, they have to actually believe your ID," he says in a tone that adds the 'stupid' at the end for him. Without waiting for a response, Suguru pushes his hands into his pockets and leads the way into the bar. He waltzes up to the bartender, who seems to be between patrons. She dries a rocks glass in her hands. Her head bobs loosely to the beat of the live music.

He lifts two fingers. "Beer, please. Whatever's cheapest."

Satoru makes a noise at the back of his throat.

"It's not for you. Geez, Satoru, the world doesn't always revolve around you," he sighs exaggeratedly and flicks his bangs out of his eyes to meet Satoru's gaze. He smirks. "You want something to drink?" He points at the tiny backboard propped up beside him on the countertop, detailing a range of drinks and their prices. "Here are their non-alcoholics. If it won't make you sick, I recommend the raspberry float."

"Then I'll get that." Satoru leans against the bar in the space between Suguru's stool and the next. He shifts, trying to appear natural, and he places his other hand in the pocket of his jacket. He really doesn't need it in this cramped bar – not with the number of people crowding around, driving up the heat.

At the other end of the room, a large group stands at the base of a raised stage. The trio upon it complete sturdy rock covers of popular songs on the radio. They make for exciting listening, though their sound isn't what Satoru usually goes for.

Suguru flags down the bartender for Satoru's bright pink sugar abomination, and she drops off his two beers with a nod. Satoru doesn't have the time to wonder about them further before Suguru turns to him with a wry smirk.

"Sit down, greenie. You look like an idiot."

"And you don't?" he retorts, but hops up on a stool anyway. He prods the glistening mug of beer closest to him, inspecting the amber liquid within, and lifts his eyes.

What surprises him is that Suguru isn't looking at him – or at his drinks, either. Isn't one of the first rules of going to a bar ensuring one's drinks are always within sight?

He tilts his head, a light crease marring his brow. "Suguru? What're you looking at? Pay attention to me. I'm bored."

"I'm looking for someone," he replies coolly, scanning the crowds near the stage. With a sigh and a slump of the shoulders, he glances over at Satoru with a small smile, resting his elbow on the bar. "Sorry. I'm a little distracted. I haven't come here in a while, you see."

Satoru doesn't see – which is ironic – and wants to ask. But asking means he'll look his way, and that means Satoru won't be able to admire Suguru's pretty feline features for as long as he'd like. He'd get all embarrassed about it and growl at him.

Propping his chin on his knuckles, Satoru traces each curve and plane of Suguru's features with his eyes, committing every line to memory. Suguru won't always be this young, and the dim neon lighting is so nice on his skin, cutting deep shadows across the soft fantasy of his face.

Purple and green. Fitting, for a place called the Viper Lounge.

"Satoru. Your drink is here."

With a blink, he straightens up, and the pretty bartender lady shoots a knowing wink his way. The tall pink drink almost glows under the lights, and the float bobs with the tiny streams of fizzing soda bubbles that rise to the top.

Smiling to himself, Suguru glances back at the stage as Satoru's unyielding attention averts to the bartender, bothering her for a matching pink drink umbrella. The room is painted black, like a secret born to the night, and the stage matches the paint job. It makes its users seem to float several feet off the ground.

He taps his cheek with a soft sigh, fiddling with his brow piercing. His hair catches on it sometimes, but that's the price he must pay.

He watches Satoru absently. Where were you? Had your schedule changed in the weeks he'd been busy?

Then, with the faint echo of the microphone, an all-too familiar voice:

"One! Two! Three! Four!"

The leap from silence into rapid metal is violent. The drums beat lifeblood through veins. Steel shreds the guitar. Bass peels flesh from bone and snaps it back together.

Suguru's reverie shatters like glass.

There you are. Tall with confidence, clad in leather and denim. Your hair's shorter than he last remembers, but wilder, already-damp strands of hair sticking to your temples as if fresh from a romp in the sheets. Jewellery glints under the moody stage lights, and it's hypnotic, the way you charge up the crowd with your voice and your guitar. The amp by your feet is beat-up and worn, having played stepping stool to leather boots too many times, but it explodes with sound. Your sound.

You've got a quartet for a band, all faces made familiar through his connections with you. His heart flutters at the memory of your arm slung around his waist, pulling him into your side as you laugh at something your drummer said.

Satoru's head tilts as Suguru slides off the seat and grabs the two beers. "Suguru? Hey! Where are you going?"

It's too loud to hear him, what with the singing and the screaming and the heavy thump-thump-thump of drunken dancers jumping around. Suguru weaves through the crowd of crying fans – mostly girls; your bassist is your only female member – and it's easy to recognise him, his physical training and broad body letting him part the drunken gaggle just by walking forward and keeping balance.

He reaches the front of the crowd and lifts his face to you, a little smile playing at the corners of his lips. His dark eyes are endless in the shadowy room, and the way he raises the mug of beer feels like the hand of the devil. His tongue toys with his snakebite piercings, the soft pink of it peeking past his lips like a taunt.

During the lull of the song's vocals, you crouch down, avoiding the stares and grabbing hands of dozens of fans. You grip the beer – Suguru's smile widens – and rise to your feet. The rim's already at your lips, and rapid bob of your Adam's apple as you swallow invokes a wave of screams and a chant of "Chug! Chug! Chug!" that fills the bar.

Droplets run down your throat and soak into the collar of your shirt. Your skin glistens. Sweat dampens your throat and the furrow of your brow.

As the melody builds to a crescendo, you slam down the empty mug and launch into the song's chorus, the rough metal gravel of your voice sending more than one fan into hysterics.

Suguru watches the way your fingers fly over the guitar neck with impossible ease, smiling into his beer at the memories of those same fingers wrapped around his neck, his hips, his—

An arm falls over his shoulders. "Suguru! Don't run off like that again! Where you go, I go."

He glances over his shoulder. Satoru's almost shouting in his ear, and some ways behind him, he spots at the bar the empty glass with the pink umbrella balanced recklessly on the rim.

"Sorry," he shouts back, a sheepish, apologetic grin on his lips. "Got carried away. Did you like your drink?"

"Yeah," he says above the noise. "C'mon, hard to talk here! Let's find a booth."

Satoru slips in on one side, and Suguru takes the other. The deep red leather of the seats feels decadent in the low lighting, the same way velvet and jewels go together. Satoru peers over his glasses at Suguru with a shit-eating grin.

"Not gonna lie to you," he begins. "I'm pretty sure that normie over there was eyeing you up like a piece of candy."

There's a twang to his words, and Suguru smiles behind his glass of beer, leaning in and peering at Satoru closely. Nearly imperceptibly, Satoru leans away.

He straightens. "Are you jealous?" he says, almost in disbelief. "No way."

A pause.

"What?" he laughs, waving a hand as if to disperse the very thought from the air. "Jealous? Me? Of him? Don't make me laugh, Suguru. I'm way cooler! And better-looking."

"I'm not sure," Suguru hums, sparing a glance at the fans trying their damndest to touch the singer's steel-capped boots. "For starters, he drinks well."

"Don't say 'for starters' like you're about to dive into a list of compliments." Satoru pouts, crossing his arms. "Is he the person you were looking for earlier?"

"Mmh. He's got a good voice, doesn't he?"

"He sounds like he smokes three packs a day. But you don't care what I think, do you? You've already made up your mind."

Suguru chuckles, vanishing about half of his drink in two gulps. It's rather impressive. "That sound is raw talent and cultivated skill. You sound like you hate him."

"Nah, you're just trying too hard for a guy in some no-name garage band. Did you see his clothes?" He peers over his glasses at his friend. "They're western brands. Not cheap here. He's a total poser."

"But he looks good in them, right?"

"Eh. So-so."

"I bought them for him."

"I mean, they fit well on him. And they match the whole 'rockerboy' thing, but that's more because of you than him."

He hides his grin behind his beer, sipping on what remains to nurse it until your gig ends. Satoru's too predictable.

—

Later, Suguru ventures into the staff lounge with Satoru on his heels. Pleasantly warm with alcohol, he finds you alone by the couch, one boot kicked up on the footstool and an arm thrown over your eyes. Your chest rises and falls slowly with your breaths, and Suguru quietly slips around the furniture to take a seat next to you. He grasps your forearm and lowers it.

Satoru stares.

You're handsome. He gets it now.

One eye cracks open. Your hazy eyes pass over Satoru as if he's not even there – how annoying – and land on Suguru. Your gaze brightens and you sit up, lowering your boots to the ground.

"Oh, it's you!"

Your voice is surprisingly mellow, low and smooth like caramel. Despite your neutral affect – and the fact that you're not even addressing him – Satoru's cheeks warm.

"It's me." Suguru's voice is soft.

You gaze at him a while longer, the pause filled with your bright, contradicting smile. Then you grunt and sit forward with your elbows on your knees, your leather jacket creaking quietly. "My favourite man. What can I do you for?"

"You're too sweet, YN," he says, a flicker of shyness crossing his features. "Haven't seen you in a while."

Your brow furrows and you sigh, glancing aside. "I know, I'm sorry, doll. It's been difficult trying to adjust to my new job – just been dead tired all the time. Anyway – what is this, an interrogation? You gonna introduce me to your buddy or what?"

You cock your head up at Satoru, who stands in front of you with his hands in his pockets. With Suguru to your side and the corner of the room on the other, you have nowhere to go.

Suguru spares a glance at his friend. "Satoru, sit down." He turns back to you. "He wanted to come and I couldn't stop him. Just ignore him. I wanted to talk to you."

"Sure. What about?"

He places a hand on your knee. His nails are painted black. "I really wanna stay at your place."

If Satoru wasn't watching closely, he would've missed the way your eyes widened the slightest bit. He has to commend you – you smother it quickly.

"Tonight?"

"Mhm." He shuffles closer to you. His fingers twitch as he glances down at your hand, as if he has to suppress the urge to take it in his own. "Thought we could catch up a bit – braid each other's hair, do our nails, the whole nine yards."

You blink. "That's... awfully forward of you. You usually dance around these things until I finally figure it out."

His lips twitch up. "I can be direct when I want to be."

"Oh, so you just enjoy riling me up."

"I like what comes after."

Suguru's head tilts slightly, and your faces are an inch apart. His eyes flicker to your lips.

"Of course you can stay, Suguru," you murmur, your expression softening. "I'm glad you came here."

"Even though I'm breaking the rules?"

"My whole shtick is being counter-culture. That includes disobeying rules when they're stupid."

"When they're stupid," he echoes. He smiles, his dimples losing him his tough-guy persona. He bumps your shoulder with his, tucking his loose hair behind his ear. "Are you staying here for any reason?"

You shake your head. "Been paid and everything. I'm just abusing the couch for an air-conditioned nap. The others are going clubbing in a few hours if you want to meet up with 'em and say hi."

"Did you want to go?"

"Nah. I had a killer headache last night and don't want it coming back. Mostly, I planned to bake something."

Satoru can't hold it in any longer. "You bake?"

Two sets of eyes swivel to him where he stands by the fridge, checking out its contents.

"Uh, yeah." You turn to Suguru and stretch, resting an arm over the backrest behind his shoulders. A classic, almost dorky move, and one you do all the time, but Suguru's heart still flutters. "Who is this guy, by the way? Why's he wearing sunglasses inside? You're not cool, dude."

"I have sensitive eyes," he declares, pointing overhead at the bright, artificial white lights. "Name's Satoru."

You raise a brow. "I think you've been mentioned once. Last name?"

"Need-to-know basis."

You narrow your eyes at him.

Suguru interrupts the staring contest, shoving himself into your line of sight. "You said you had a headache. Are you okay?"

You drop the glare and smile at Suguru, squeezing his shoulder. "Mm, don't worry about it, baby. Nothing a few painkillers can't solve."

He lifts a hand to your face, tracing the shape of your cheek with his knuckles. His touch is so light it almost tickles. "If you say so. Don't forget to sleep more. It's not good for your skin."

You offer a fond smile. While swiping a few chocolates from the bowl on the table, Satoru notices how Suguru leans into your touch and how he presses his side into yours as much as he can, thighs and shoulders brushing. He didn't know he was... that sort of person.

Rather vacantly, Satoru thinks he should be more upset right now. After all, he's been pining after Suguru for the past year, and now he finds out that Suguru's got some normie with tight leather pants falling into his bed? He was planning on confessing after Suguru's birthday, but he supposes he should trash that plan.

Fuck. Awkward.

"Hey, Satoru." Suguru's soft voice draws him out of his thoughts. "YN wants to try a new recipe. Wanna come with?"

"You're gonna be my guinea pigs," you agree. Your heavy gaze rakes Satoru's body, and he suppresses a warm shiver. "Or my little white mouse."

Satoru tries to ignore his blush. He straightens, pocketing another chocolate. "You don't care about inviting a stranger to your house?"

"Any friend of Suguru's is a friend of mine." You stand and stretch with a pleased groan that feels far too intimate. "I don't have shit worth stealing, anyway, unless you count my banged-up guitar. It's, like, twenty years old."

"Not old enough to be vintage, too young to be seriously desirable." Suguru sighs, slumping against your side dramatically as you pass through the door together. "Story of my life."

"Ew. Don't joke about that." You glance past Suguru – Satoru's eyes, you notice past the glasses, are an unexpected shade of cornflower blue. "Hey, Baby Blues. How'd you two meet?"

"Hm? Oh, high school."

"Ah, you two are the same age?"

"Same class and everything," Suguru says as you wander towards your car, the keys jingling in your pocket as you try to find the correct one by touch alone. There's a shadow of a guitar case in the back of the car. "Can't get rid of him anymore."

"That just means you always have someone to shout you a drink or two." You pull open the door for Suguru and draw a vaguely round shape in the air with a finger. "Karma's a circle."

"Yeah? And where are you in that circle?"

Swiftly, you shut the door and turn to Satoru, nodding your head in the direction of the car. "Hop in, Blue! You'll be glad you came when you try my tiramisu."

—

Some time later, Satoru finds himself on your soft leather couch, nursing a very flushed Suguru on his left and a less-flushed you on his right. You cackle at his attempts to take the game controller off Suguru, and when Suguru gets touchier in order to body-block him, you can tell from his flustered expression that he doesn't really know how to deal with it when you're right there.

"I'm fine," Suguru sighs, batting Satoru's hands off. He leans in further, trying to push him back, when he persists. "Satoru, you're blocking my view with your big head! It's your fault if I die."

You own a PS2 with a pretty neat collection of games. Suguru is doing less than well with Metal Gear Solid 3.

"Let me have a turn," Satoru pleads, pouting when Suguru expertly weaves the controller away from him. He's had years of practice with it. "I'm so good at stealth games! Lemme try, I wanna go—"

"Just say you wanna impress YN. It's less desperate, man."

Satoru's jaw snaps shut with an audible click. His eyes are so blue that Suguru can see the shine of them behind his almost-opaque glasses.

Suguru smirks and shifts on the couch, tossing his legs over Satoru's lap victoriously. He settles comfortably among the pillows and returns his attention to the television.

"W-What?" he stutters. Did he hear that right? Was he drunk on the tiramisu's brandy?

"It's okay," Suguru says, sneaking past a guard successfully. He smiles victoriously, lip piercings glinting in the light. "I wouldn't mind sharing if it was you. Have you seen the size of him? I can't eat all that by myself."

You chuckle, one arm slung over the back of the couch. In your other hand is a brandy glass, the dark amber alcohol you used in the tiramisu sparkling under the light as you gesture with the glass. "Dunno 'bout that last bit. You try pretty hard to."

"I don't like leaving my meals half-finished. I'm also generous to those less fortunate – Satoru's never dated anyone, you know? I wouldn't want him getting hurt by some selfish asshole because he doesn't know any better. That's why I think you'd be good for him."

The colour of Satoru's face rivals Suguru's. He rubs his cheeks, sinking into the couch. "Stop telling him my life story! You're making me sound really uncool. You're so wasted, Suguru – is this what you're like outside of school?"

"I'm not that far gone," Suguru groans, controller going limp in his hand. He reaches around Satoru to give it to you, which you accept – you immediately start blitzing through the in-game building, attention now completely elsewhere. He levels him with an unimpressed stare. "I could probably take you right now."

"You want to fight me in your boyfriend's apartment?" Satoru squawks. "He made food for you! Control yourself. Gosh..."

"'Control thine emotions'," he mocks. "I'm perfectly in control. You need to admit that you like my boyfriend."

"I don't." Panic drips from his voice.

"You totally do. It's cute – I've never seen you with a crush on anyone. A rich boy liking an underground rockstar? Embarrassing. I've read that manga before."

"No, I don't – I'm not a manga protag—" He cuts himself off, jabbing a finger into Suguru's chest. "I just have eyes, okay? I can tell when someone's, like, visually appealing. You're visually appealing. Doesn't mean I'm going goo-goo over you."

With a roll of his neck, Suguru leans in, propping his elbow on his shoulder. He levels his gaze at him, blinking slowly.

He sucks in a breath. He can smell his honey-scented shampoo. He's holding on by the skin of his teeth.

"A-And," Satoru continues, shifting in his seat. How incredibly unfortunate it is that he's sitting between you and Suguru. Why is that, anyway? Weren't you the ones dating? "You're being weird. Who the fuck talks about this? Like, seriously."

"YN and I talk like this all the time. You're just a prude." He sticks out his tongue, and the flash of a silver piercing studded into his tongue leaves Satoru breathless and shocked. He scrambles forward, reaching towards him, and pinches Suguru's jaw with one hand.

"What the hell is that?" he exclaims, brows furrowing. Memories of the previous conversation are all but gone.

Suguru lifts an eyebrow, glancing aside. He'd almost forgotten how strong Satoru can be. "What's what?"

"That." He shifts his grip, forcing Suguru's lips to part. His tongue flicks against his front teeth, and the little silver ball catches the light.

"A pierthing," he replies, muffled. He lets Satoru, alarmed at their sudden closeness, pull away first with a scandalised blush. Suguru rubs his cheeks and lets his tongue loll out of his mouth, showing it off with a glint in his dark eyes.

Satoru stares. How is his tongue so long?

"Cool, right? I wanted to match YN's look. It makes us look ten times better than the next couple."

He blinks himself out of his daze. "Did it hurt?"

"Not as much as you'd think. I had to get used to talking with it, though – I was lisping like crazy while it healed. I was thinking of getting a septum piercing to balance it out – or just more on the ears."

"You never tell me anything." He pouts. "How'd I never notice it...?"

"You think I don't tell you things? Fine. How about this?" Suguru shuffles forward and drapes an arm over Satoru's shoulders. He offers a lazy smirk and cups a hand by Satoru's ear. "It makes guys feel great."

His heartbeat pounds in his skull. He swears Suguru glances down at his lips – but that could be his woozy double vision. His hair looks so soft...

"Done," you announce, setting the controller in Satoru's lap – he picks it up hastily before Suguru can nab it. He huffs and crosses his arms, empty-handed. "Your turn, Blue. I wanna see some slick action, or we both get to watch Suguru struggle with holding people up."

"I am not that bad!" he snaps. "The controller buttons are sticky."

"A bad workman blames his tools," Satoru says automatically.

He immediately begins to argue.

Hm. You can see why Suguru's so endeared with the white-haired man, especially when he takes off his glasses to blink his huge, glossy blue eyes up at him. He's pouting, Suguru's waving his arms around, and you're certain you've got enough room in your bed for three.

—

In the darkness of your bedroom, you're slowly dragged from the depths of sleep by a weight above you. Your brow furrows, a little grumble falling from your lips, as hands trail down the sides of your face and play with your hair.

"YN."

You release a soft breath.

"YN. Wake up."

Your eyes crack open, and you find yourself frowning up at Suguru's shadowy figure. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, you notice that he's not wearing any pants.

He shifts on your lap, face inches from yours. His long hair is swept over his shoulder, slightly messy with sleep. His eyes, however, are perfectly awake, staring down at you with an animal hunger.

"Hey, you," he whispers fondly, barely a breath. He lowers his body over yours even further until your chests press together. You wrap a lazy arm around his waist. "Need you, baby."

"Suguru," you whisper back, only just now noticing the state of your boxers. They're slick and sticky, and you know for certain not all of it is because of you. "How long have you been at this?"

"Five, ten minutes. I don't know. I got impatient." He ghosts his lips over yours, tucking his hair over his ear before he cups your face. "Need you so bad. Need you right now."

"Fuck, seriously?" you huff, shifting slightly so you can rest back on an elbow. "Damn nymphomaniac..."

A body beside you rolls over. You freeze.

Shit. You'd forgotten he was here. Satoru had been insistent on taking the couch, but Suguru's large brown eyes and sweet words had worn him down. When you chimed in to express your agreement with your boyfriend, he'd broken fully, and accepted.

"I've already prepped myself," Suguru breathes, pressing his bare cock against the front of your boxers. He rolls his hips slowly, kissing you equally torturously. "Please, baby? Needa come so bad."

His words are slurring. Usually so put-together, Suguru grinds against your growing bulge with a soft whimper, eyes fluttering shut as his cockhead catches on the cloth.

He's going to be the death of you.

You place your hands on his waist, lifting him just enough to reach your waistband and free yourself from your boxers. Suguru sighs shakily and tucks the band below your balls, batting away your hand to be able to hold it himself. You roll your eyes at his attitude but allow him to admire your cock. He nibbles on his lower lip as he rakes its length with his heavy gaze.

"You're already hard," he teases under his breath, closing his fist around it and stroking it from tip to base and back again in one rough motion. You jump slightly, a hiss slipping out between your teeth. Suguru silences you with a hot kiss, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he strokes you and swallows your sounds.

He shifts cautiously on his knees, mindful of Satoru's still body next to him, and opens his hand to slot his cock against yours. He purrs as he tugs them both, head falling against your shoulder as he rocks back and forth atop your lap.

"So good," he whispers into your skin, his hot breath fanning your neck. You can feel him tremble – with excitement, with exertion. His breaths are shaky as he quickens his fist, rutting against you.

He's dripping. Your shared arousal slicks up your cocks, and Suguru's wet palm squelches quietly with every stroke. He shudders out a soft moan, nails digging into the pillow beneath your head.

"Is this what you wanted?" you growl under your breath, hands pressing firmly against his waist and forcing him to grind harder into your cock. His hips stutter. "Fuckin' whore, doing this when your best friend's a foot away from you..."

He swallows a moan as you dig your thumb into his leaky slit. "Y-Yes – yes, I wanted this. 'M sorry for being such a slut," he whines softly, his thick thighs tensing atop yours. His cock jumps as Satoru shifts in his sleep. "Oh, fuuuck..."

You chuckle breathlessly as Suguru leans into you, his slick fist squelching louder as he grinds more desperately into you. You hold your hand in place, formed into a loose circle, and allow Suguru to fuck into it as his tip catches on the ridge of your glans with every thrust.

"G-Gonna come," he whispers against your jawline, free hand tangling in your hair. His little moans feel so much louder right by your ear, and your heart races whenever it pitches that much higher. "Ohh, god..."

"Yeah," you pant, wrapping your arms around his waist and holding him close. You press your palm against his shoulder – his heart pounds through his back. "That's right, dollface. Don't hold back. I wanna see my pretty slut come for me, alright? Wanna have your come all over me."

His rushed, shallow little humps rock the mattress dangerously. You grip the shelf of his hips in warning, slowing him down. He whimpers like an injured animal, pleading.

Swallowing roughly, you wrap one hand around his cock and use the other to grip his plush ass beneath his oversized t-shirt, your fingers digging into the soft skin. He gasps softly and presses into your touch, humming gratefully as you jerk him off, your thumb swiping over his swollen tip.

With an arch of his spine, his arms tightening around you, he comes, his pants and sighs soft and breathy against your skin. He presses his hips against yours, coating your cock and stomach with spurts of hot come.

Your head falls back against the pillow, an exhale escaping your lips as your eyes flutter shut. Suguru collapses on top of you, hips still jerking intermittently, and you can feel his sticky pleasure dripping down your sides in rivulets. Fuck.

Suguru tucks his head under your chin, dragging a thumb down your side and smearing his pearly release over your warm skin. Your stomach tenses under his touch and he smiles, tongue running over his piercings.

"I want yours inside me," he declares, leaving no room for argument. "Don't waste it."

"Waste it?" you breathe. "Waste it for what? You want kids or something?"

His lashes flutter as his gaze lifts to yours, dark and smoky. "Something like that."

He picks himself up and positions himself upright on your lap, shifting on his knees to better balance his weight. He glances at Satoru's curled body and mop of messy white hair, almost glowing in the darkness. Heat swirls in his stomach as he notices how tightly Satoru's gripping his pillow. A wicked grin tugs at his lips.

Suguru grinds his ass against your cock, one hand reaching back to rub the tip and press it against his fluttering hole. He lets the tip catch against his rim, throwing his head backwards and scattering long locks of hair in a cascade down his back. His hole clenches around nothing.

"Feels like you're about to burst," he teases softly, continuing to rub against the shaft. "Your balls are so heavy, too... Please let me have your come, daddy. I want it all inside me."

"Dirty little thing. If you can stay quiet, I'll let you have it," you mutter, bending one knee to give him some support. He grips it, lifting his hips, and slowly sinks down on your thick cock, hole clenching and fluttering around you at the stretch.

"I can, I promise." He exhales shakily, expression twisted with pleasure and pain. "Fuck."

"Take it easy," you murmur, eyes flashing with concern.

He chuckles, breathy. "What if I said I liked it?"

"I'd call you a whore."

"And I'll prove it." With a sharp inhale, his hole swallows the rest of your cock in a single gulp. His thighs quiver, his mouth falling open in a silent moan. His cock throbs, hot against his skin.

"Holy shit," you exhale, eyes wide as he trembles around your dick, his long hair flowing over his shoulders as he stares down at the join of your bodies, fascinated by his own capacity. You can feel every pulse of his heartbeat, every ripple of his silken insides. He's tight as a vice, gripping your cock, and he moans softly as a spurt of precome makes the fit a little easier.

He grins, eyes dazed but focussed solely on you. He moans when you wrap your fingers around his cock, wet and hot, and begins to rock his hips, fucking into your grasp.

"Hard already," you note in an almost condescending tone of voice, twisting your fist and making him suck in a sharp breath. "You're such a pervert, aren't you, Suguru? Touching your boyfriend when he's sleeping, riding him where your best friend could wake up and see how shameful you are... I bet you'd fuckin' come if he watched you like this."

A hand shoots up to muffle his cry. Your cock nudges his prostate and he presses into it, but you keep shifting your damn hips to avoid knocking into it directly.

He's helpless. Why did you know him so well? Why was he cursed to suffer at the hands of a sadist?

"Quiet," you whisper warningly, grip tightening on his hips and forcing him to keep moving. You experiment with a few upward thrusts, meeting his bounces halfway with meaty smacks that feel far too loud in the silence of the room.

"I can't keep quiet if you're fucking my brains out," he hisses, but his aggression melts away the moment you crush his prostate head-on. Briefly, his eyes roll back to show their whites, and he shudders out a broken, muffled moan.

You pat the side of his ass, making him flinch at the sound. "Relax," you huff offhandedly, "I'm not even doing all that much. You're just too much of a slut to notice the difference – a cock inside you, and all your thoughts fly right out the window. You're so pretty, doll. Stop thinking so hard."

"Asshole," he grunts, but doesn't stop bouncing. He throws his head back. "Ohh, fuck me, your cock is so damn good..."

"That's right, baby. Just like that," you groan, his tight slick hole dragging with every lift of his hips. His pace grows unsteady, messy, a creamy white ring forming around the base of your shaft. You quicken your strokes, matching Suguru's shallow bounces, and he gasps your name, cock spurting precome that you smear over his shaft to make the glide easier – filthier.

"Fuck me," he curses, his voice growing dangerously whiny. "Why are you holding back? Just come! Come inside, please, I-I'm so close, wanna come with you—"

You thrust into him roughly and squeeze his cock. He chokes out a sharp gasp, far too loud, as thick come paints his insides white. He spills into your hand, his creamy release running over your knuckles and down his swollen, pulsing shaft. He grips your shoulders, nails digging into your skin, and his sides tighten as his movements slow, each bounce long and slow as he grinds down as deep as possible.

His muscles loosen as he pants, slumping down on top of you as he dips his tongue between your lips. You groan lazily as his piercing bumps your teeth and rolls against your tongue. You squeeze his hip, smoothing your palm over the generous curve of his ass. Your lips smack softly and he shivers, his cock giving one more valiant throb.

In the corner of his vision – the peripherals of his senses – Satoru twitches.

Suguru sits up immediately, to your confusion.

"Baby?"

He hushes you, not sparing you a glance. His gaze bores into his friend's back.

"Satoru?" he whispers.

Like clockwork, he stiffens.

A grin tugs at Suguru's lips. You stare up at him, propped up on an elbow. You don't have his sorcery-enhanced sensitivities – you don't notice that the white-haired figure next to you is breathing harder than usual, or that he's shifting far too much for sleep.

"Satoru," he hums, soft and coaxing. "I know you're awake."

Your heart drops like a stone. Suguru, however, smiles wider.

"Not moving won't do anything, you know."

Then—

Slowly, he sits up. His hair is more of a mess than it usually is. His oversized white shirt has risen slightly and shows off a sliver of pale skin.

Suguru is going to kill him. He's sure of it. His voice is soft and dangerous.

"How long were you awake?"

His head feels foggy, still reeling from shock. "Uh..."

Suguru lifts a hand to his mouth, eyes crinkling with a little titter. He points down at Satoru. "Long enough, I'd wager."

He looks down. His face explodes with heat.

The hard-on strains at the front of his shorts. A dark spot mars the cloth where his tip would be.

Shit. Fuck. He'd borrowed your clothes – so had Suguru – and here he was, soiling them with his envy and desperation. He was such a freak.

"I-I can explain," he stammers, and you can't help admiring the way he seems to swim in your clothes. The elastic in the shorts had to be pulled as tight as possible for it to stay up without help, and even then, they sat teasingly low, showing off his delicate hipbones whenever he stretched.

Smirking, Suguru gradually lifts his hips, eyes fluttering as he pulls off of your cock. Satoru's ocean eyes widen at the sight of it resting on your stomach.

"No need," he says evenly. Satoru doesn't need his Six Eyes to catch the drop of pearly liquid rolling down the inside of his thigh as he leans over to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. It douses the room in a faint golden glow. He bites back a whine as Suguru continues, as if nothing's wrong. "Come here, Satoru."

When he extends his hand, it's like salvation. Satoru stares at his kind, open palm.

He takes it. Suguru's slender fingers wrap around his, tugging him closer. He coaxes him nearer, the way one would with a frightened animal.

You're looking at him. You're both looking at him. Something sick and twisted in him likes it.

"Do you want us?" Suguru says softly. "Or have I read you wrong?"

Satoru swallows around the dry lump in his throat. His lips part. "I... I thought you wouldn't like me that way."

"Oh, Satoru," Suguru croons, lifting a hand to brush his white bangs out of his eyes. "Always so perceptive about everything but yourself."

Satoru's eyes dart away and amongst his jittering nerves, he latches onto the steadiness of your gaze, trained on him. He flushes when you smirk, your bare upper body displayed like a piece of art beneath his stare.

"Who do you want first?" you ask, and Suguru presses himself into your side. You level your gazes at him, and he stutters out some nonsense before falling quiet, pinned beneath your attention. "Suguru's already prepped, if you swing that way."

Suguru rolls his eyes at your choice of words, though he smiles fondly. "Surely he wants you, rockerboy. You're new – a novelty."

"And you're something familiar in an unfamiliar situation. Why wouldn't he choose you?"

"Can't I have both?" Satoru says quietly, though he blanches when your shared attention turns to him. "U-Uh, I mean—"

Suguru turns to you thoughtfully. "Hm?"

Your eyes glitter. "Hm."

—

"That's it, sugar," you chuckle, sliding a warm palm up Satoru's side to wrap around his throat. He gasps as you grip his jaw, forcing his lips to part, and maybe you're stronger than he'd like to admit – one hand on his shoulder, one around his throat, and that's all you need to lift him plain off the bed. His fingers scrabble at the sheets, barely brushing, and in his desperation, he grips your waist. The position only has him arching even further, your cock slamming into his bruised and sensitive prostate.

"Ah, ah, ah," he moans, eyes fluttering and silvery hair sticking to his damp temples. "Ah – Suguru, d-don't watch...!"

You wrench his head up, forcing a cry from his throat. You click your tongue, shaking your head. "Tsk tsk tsk. Look at him. Look, Satoru."

He mewls and obeys despite the hot shame and arousal crawling around his guts. The way you say his name makes him dizzy – not soft and purring like Suguru, not reverential or tense like other sorcerers. To you, he's just a brat, and you're firm with him in a way that nobody else has ever been. Not cruel – just firm.

When Satoru lifts his watery gaze to Suguru, he finds him staring down at the length swinging between his legs. His hole clenches as his thighs attempt to close – to hide himself away. You hiss in pleasure, knocking his knees apart with your own.

"Fuck," you rasp, stroking his lean hip and admiring the way bruises bloom red on his pale skin. "Look him in the eye, Satoru. You wanna make him come, right? We're doing this for Suguru. Don't be so selfish that you forget who you're serving."

"S-Sorry," he hiccups, shakily arching his back and exposing his bare, leaking cock, deep red with want. His gasps and moans are loud, echoing off the walls, almost drowning out the sound of your thighs smacking his ass. "Ah—! S-Slow down, I – nngh!"

Satoru's cock throbs painfully. The cockring you'd placed on him strangles his base, and his heartbeat pulses in his dick. He wants to come really bad.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Suguru's foot nudges his pulsating cock, pressing roughly against it. A teasing smile plays at his lips and he hums as Satoru chases the friction with a miserable, choked noise, whimpering when you drag him back towards you.

"I-I – it feels—" He can't think straight, head spinning like he's been slammed against concrete one too many times. His breath snags on the thick air as your fingers dig into his jaw. Your dick punches the breath from his lungs, dragging the painful pleasure up from deep in his belly. He sniffles softly, hazy eyes welling with crystal tears. "Ahn – Suguru," he sobs, so weak and pathetic even to his own ears that it makes his cock swell within its cage, its tip drooling incessantly.

How cute – begging his best friend for help. As if he'd listen.

"Don't slow down," whispers Suguru, voice like silk. "He can take it. He's the strongest."

That means nothing to you, but Satoru's gut clenches violently. Humiliation curls around his thoughts, burning the fringes of his mind with an electrifying shame.

Suguru slinks forward, sliding his thigh between yours in the mess of legs. His touch flutters over Satoru's warm cheeks and he presses close. You slow your pace to a snail's crawl, dragging against and kissing Satoru's swollen gummy prostate.

"I can't," Satoru whimpers, weak in your hold. He leans into Suguru's gentler touch. "I can't do it. I can't. It's too much."

"No, it's not. Don't be silly," Suguru hums, taking his cock in his hand and making Satoru sob and jerk. He aligns it with his, rutting against it lazily. God, he's got another fucking piercing right beneath the glans of his dick – it catches, smooth and hard, on the ridge of Satoru's tip. His bright eyes lose their focus and his hips twitch. "I'm not letting you go until I think you're done. Just try not to pass out, okay?"

"He won't. He's a good bitch – barely needs any training. He takes me like a fuckin' champ." Your cock punches into his guts and he squeals, his cries high and melodic even as he falls limp in your hands, his fingers scrabbling at your hips and thighs. Suguru moans at the contact, his fist wrapped around both his and Satoru's lengths. "F-Fuck – you're both so damn pretty like this."

Satoru gasps as Suguru smiles and leans over his shoulder to kiss you. Pressed between your bodies, Satoru can hear every wet smack and soft moan of your kisses right in his ear. His cock throbs violently, leaking a constant stream of pre.

Suguru's hands rest on his hips, gently guiding him back and forth between your cock and his. His cock is warm and velvety, and Satoru whimpers as Suguru presses further into him to kiss you deeper with a pleased sigh. Your grip tightens on Satoru's jaw, pulling him into your chest, and he mewls, squeaky little moans falling from his lips as your cock fills him up over and over again, fucking him like he made you angry.

"S-Suguru—!" He can't get the rest of his sentence out before two thick fingers shove into his mouth. His yelp melts into a moan as they press down on his tongue, silencing him.

"Hot," Suguru observes, parting from you to catch his breath and watch the way his friend sucks and drools on your fingers, his cerulean eyes dazed and glossy. "Kiss me again."

You oblige, twisting your hand in his long, loose hair and pulling him towards you. His lips are warm and plush, and his breath hitches as your tongue rolls across his, flicking the silver piercing there. You pull back for air but he doesn't let you, yanking you back in and tracing the length of your tongue with a debauched moan.

Satoru can hear it all. He can't watch – no, not with your firm grip on his jaw – but not being able to see makes everything ten times worse. He feels like a toy, his high withheld and his sight limited. For all his gifts, he still has to fucking turn to see things, and he wishes really, really badly that he knew what it looks like.

He can imagine it clearly. Your faces flushed, your hair mussed. Suguru's delicate features relaxed into a wanton expression, his piercings glinting in the low light as his tongue twists with yours. Your brow furrowed, your lips swollen, as you suck on his tongue.

Desperately, with tears in his eyes, he slobbers around your fingers, gripping your wrist in both hands. Saliva runs down your knuckles and Satoru chokes as you push your fingers deeper, sliding over his tongue possessively. He adapts quickly, muffled moans high and needy as your cock slams into his guts.

He swears you can't be a non-sorcerer. How else could you ruin him so easily? How else are you tracking every little twitch that gives away his most sensitive places? How else are you still going?

You've backed off now, instead staring at Satoru and the way his lips close around your fingers like they're a cock. Suguru, equally mesmerised, licks his lips.

As if you're one being, you remove your fingers from Satoru's slick mouth, and Suguru cups his face and kisses him.

Kisses him.

Kisses him.

He can't think. His body moves on instinct, his teeth clashing with Suguru's in a messy and uncoordinated manner, but he is kind, and he coaxes control from him to teach him how to kiss. Blue eyes made even bluer with the red ringing his lashline, Satoru moans and scratches at Suguru's shoulders, cock throbbing as the ring bites into his raw shaft. Suguru's fingers brush against his tight, aching balls and he blubbers like he's going to die.

"Please," he manages to choke out, gasping and jerking as Suguru scrapes his nails down his dark red length. "P-Please..."

He doesn't even know what he's begging for. More? Less? For Suguru to stop looking at him as if he'd hung the stars? He's a sinful, degenerate mess, he knows it – far from the perfect and powerful sorcerer the world expects. The Gojo clan heir, ruined on something so obscene and mortal as a big, thick cock.

You turn his face towards you, watching the tears fall over the flushed apples of his cheeks. He's so pale that every little touch burns him with lust, and his embarrassment spreads from his cheeks to his chest and down his shoulder blades.

You press your lips against his and he whimpers, a hand shooting up to grip your hair. He kisses back, moaning as you swipe your tongue over his lower lip, and the slick sounds of your lips smacking makes his walls flutter and clench around you.

He's clumsy, but eager. He whines like a puppy, bouncing on your cock, and leans into your touch when your hand smooths over his stomach, shiny and slick with his pre. He pants into your mouth. You swallow his moans.

Firm and swift, Suguru snatches Satoru's chin and pulls his face towards his. He makes an ugly sound as Suguru wraps his hand back around their cocks, forming a loose hole for them to fuck into – Suguru's release is thick and creamy, and it feels filthy when he smears it over both their cocks.

He came! He came, he realises joyfully, relief and arousal flooding his veins in equal parts – he came because of him! Satoru melts into the kiss, lips slick and parted as they pant and moan, sharing hot breaths between them. The air is muggy. Suguru licks into his mouth, hardly human, and tears stream down Satoru's cheeks, his brain so mushy he can't tell your limbs from Suguru's, or his own from the bedsheets.

Barely letting him breathe, you grab Satoru's face and stick your tongue down his throat. He hiccups, eyes rolling back as you grind into his ass and come with a grunt in hot, thick spurts. His toes curl and his lips pout pathetically, chasing yours when you pull back to check on Suguru. He whines and tugs your hair to make you turn those pretty eyes back to him again, your warmth spilling into him and making him yours. You allow it, your tongue running over the slick nubs of his teeth.

Suguru scrapes his canines over Satoru's pale throat, only marred by his blush. That won't do. He drags his pierced tongue down his jugular and across his Adam's apple, made more pronounced by the angle of his neck – Satoru sobs into your mouth, chest heaving as he grips Suguru's hair and feels the sting of hickeys bitten into his fair skin.

Through his tears and dizzy pleasure, he's given back to Suguru, who coos at him and kisses him sweetly – no tongue this time, just their swollen lips moulded together as if they belong right there and nowhere else. He twitches as your teeth sink into his shoulder, decorating his other side with love bites. He's never gonna be able to hide them all.

Passed around like a cigarette, like a whore, Satoru barely realises it when Suguru slips off the cockring – with some difficulty, as his cock, stomach, and thighs are so wet with pre that it makes everything feel like a damn waterslide. The moment it scrapes over his swollen tip, he's crying out and tensing, sobbing as heavy spurts of sticky come spray Suguru's stomach and thighs.

He tries to say their names – because they're so kind, so good to him, he has to say thank you and be grateful because they could've left him there all by himself – but the first syllables of their names devolve into relieved, babbling moans. Suguru strokes his hair, holding him close, as you help him ride out his bliss, your pace gradually slowing as he twitches and jolts in your hands.

As his high peters out, he slumps into Suguru's arms, whining shakily as you pull out with a slick pop. He clenches around nothing, his hole gaping and abused, and clutches Suguru like a lifeline.

You hum, pressing a thumb against Satoru's dark puffy hole and pulling gently. Feebly, it clamps around nothing, and a dribble of thick white come leaks out, joining the mess between his legs.

Man, those legs. He could be a model with a body like that. Despite being taller, Satoru's slimmer than Suguru, and he feels tiny and fragile in your palms, shuddering and trembling. You squeeze his slim thighs, watching his fair skin dimple under your touch like marble, and his muscles twitch, unsure whether to pull away or press into you. He decides on the latter, moaning softly when you grab his ass appreciatively.

"Such a darling," Suguru hums, voice light and adoring as he brushes the tears from Satoru's warm red cheeks with his thumb. "You did well, Satoru."

Giggling dreamily, he nibbles on his lower lip, pushing his cheek against Suguru's shoulder. He reaches blindly behind him, and when he finds your hand, he pulls you in behind him, forcing your arm to wrap around his little waist. He purrs, perfectly pleased now that he's squished between two big, warm bodies. "Yeah...?"

Suguru nods, his long hair falling over Satoru's shoulder too. "Yeah."

Eyelids half-closed and nose buried in Suguru's neck, Satoru follows easily as you lead them to lay down on the bed. When your arm loosens around his waist, however, his hand shoots out with startling speed and accuracy.

"W-Where are you going?"

If you didn't know any better, you'd think he sounded afraid.

"Bathroom. Gotta get you two cleaned up before it gets gross," you reply gently. He has Suguru to ground him. That doesn't seem like enough, though, because his large blue eyes well up again and his lower lip trembles. His grip tightens around your wrist and you're surprised when it almost begins to hurt.

"Stay," he whispers, slender pale neck craned to look you in the eye. It's covered in bruises and bite marks.

"I'm not leaving," you chuckle, stroking his inner wrist with your thumb. "You're in my bedroom. Nowhere else for me to go."

He shakes his head, stubborn – they're both like that. "Don't care," he whimpers, tugging insistently. "Come back. Clean later."

"But you're the messiest one here, Satoru," you point out, amused, and you don't miss the way he shivers when you say his name. "Surely you don't want to stay that way?"

"Don't care," he repeats in a mumble. He hums as you obey his iron grip and return to the bed, lying down in front of him. He snuggles into your chest, sighing soft and content as Suguru shuffles closer behind him. He feels your arm join Suguru's, resting over his waist. The heavy weight of them combined and the radiating warmth from your chests fade his thoughts into pleasant nothingness.

"Suguru?" you murmur.

"Hm?" His chest rumbles delightfully against Satoru's back.

"I've got him. You can get washed up if you like."

"It's alright. He'll pull me back down, just like you. It doesn't feel bad – I sorta like it. I've been covered in worse, anyway."

You curse under your breath, arm shifting around Satoru. "Do I wanna know?"

"No."

You chuckle lightly, and your next words are soft and teasing. Suguru responds in kind. Satoru's eyes flutter closed, the rest of your quiet conversation becoming hazy background noise as it lulls him to sleep.

Surrounded by warmth – a very human warmth that Satoru's been chasing for years – he can't help curling up like a cat, breathing soft and even as your rumbling voices pass over his head. Yours is deeper than Suguru's smooth, easy cadence, something of your musical talents emerging in the depths of your voice. It makes it easy for his subconscious to follow – at least for a while, before they blend into one lilting track.

Dreams come easy to him. How could they not when this pretty fantasy of his has just come true, tucked in the arms of Suguru and his dreamboat of a boyfriend?

Well, it's like Suguru said: can't get rid of him. He's yours, now – no takesies backsies.

[jupiterpilgrim]

Drown With Me

Pt.2: Interpolation

Ningning x Minji x Male Reader

word count: 7K

part 1 | part 3

A/n: Pt.2 and pt.3 were supposed to be a single chapter, but it was split in two because of the block limit.

I wish I could be everything you wanted.

—

Oh, here we are again. But this time we're going back in time. We journeyed into the past because some things must be witnessed. And I say 'witnessed,' not 'understood.' For understanding confines the subtleties of human connections to a singular perspective, and that restricts the strange language of the heart.

We're at a bar now, where a lot of stories start. This is one of those:

The lights are dim and amber, casting warm shadows over the polished countertops and the scratched wooden floor. It’s a quiet Tuesday night, a lull between the weekend rush and midweek regulars. You’ve been working here long enough to know the rhythm of it—the predictable ebb and flow of people looking for drinks to drown whatever piece of life was gnawing at them. But then, just as you’re stacking a row of freshly washed glasses, the door swings open, and in walks her again.

She hesitates in the doorway, framed by the cool, blue glow of the streetlights outside. The first thing that grabs you, as it did last night, are her eyes—huge, almond-shaped, and impossibly feline. The kind of eyes that make you forget what you were supposed to be doing. They dart nervously around the room before finally landing on you, and for a moment, she freezes.

“You again,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips. You lean casually against the bar, arms crossed, trying not to seem too eager.

She’s wearing a cropped, black leather jacket that clings to her slender frame, sharp and a little out of place against the pale softness of her features. Beneath it, a white tank top hints at the curve of her collarbone and the toned lines of her stomach. Her high-waisted jeans, faded and torn at the knees, hug her slim legs like they were stitched onto her body. The scuffed Doc Martens on her feet somehow make her look even more striking—an accidental runway model lost in a world of beer stains and neon signs.

Her broad shoulders, almost too strong for her petite height, square up as if she's trying to summon some hidden reserve of confidence. But it’s her shyness, that hint of hesitation in every movement, that makes her feel like a puzzle you want to solve. She brushes a lock of jet-black hair behind her ear, her eyes darting away from yours as though the floor might swallow her whole if she stares for too long.

You tilt your head toward the bar, beckoning her closer. “Second night in a row, huh? You sure you’re not stalking me?”

Her lips part in a soft laugh, so quiet you almost miss it. “Hardly. My friend dragged me here yesterday. Tonight… I just needed some air.”

Her voice is as soft as her laugh, tinged with a slight huskiness that adds depth to her otherwise delicate demeanor. She approaches the bar slowly, her movements careful, like someone who’s always aware of the space she takes up.

“Well,” you say, pulling a coaster from under the counter and setting it down in front of her, “welcome back to the quietest bar in town. What can I get you?”

She perches on the stool, her knees pressed close together, hands tucked into the sleeves of her jacket. “Um…just a Coke, actually.”

“Coke?”

She nods, her eyes flicking up to meet yours, only to dart away again. “I don’t drink much.”

“Second night in a row at a bar and no drinks? You’re full of surprises.” You grab a glass and pour the soda, sliding it toward her. “Not that I’m complaining. Makes my job easier.”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear again, a nervous habit, you realize, but it only adds to the quiet allure of her presence. “You work here often?”

“Most nights.” You lean against the bar again, giving her your best casual smile. “And you? What’s your excuse for gracing us with your presence twice in a row?”

“I’m…” She hesitates, then shrugs. “I guess I just liked the vibe. It’s not like other places.”

“It’s not like most places because most places actually get customers,” you joke, gesturing to the mostly empty room. “But hey, if the vibe brought you back, I’m not going to argue.”

She smiles, faint but genuine. “It’s nice. Quiet. Less… intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” You raise an eyebrow, genuinely curious.

She fidgets with the straw in her glass, swirling the Coke absently. “Bars aren’t really my thing. Too loud, too crowded. I usually avoid them.” She glances up at you, almost shyly. “This one feels… different.”

You don’t miss the slight blush that creeps up her neck as she speaks, and something about it tugs at you. “Different’s good,” you say softly. “I like different.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The faint hum of the jukebox in the corner fills the silence, playing some slow, melancholic track that perfectly matches the mood. You watch as she takes a small sip of her drink, her lashes casting long shadows over her cheeks.

“So,” you finally ask, breaking the quiet, “what’s your name? Or should I just keep calling you ‘Coke Girl’?”

Her lips twitch into a smile again, a little more confident this time. “Ning Yìzhuo. And you?”

“Coke Boy,” you deadpan, earning a small laugh from her. “Kidding. It’s—”

The door swings open again, cutting you off as a group of rowdy patrons stumbles in, disrupting the peaceful bubble you’d been sharing. Ningning’s shoulders tense immediately, her fingers tightening around her glass. You can tell she’s debating whether to stay or bolt.

You lean closer, your voice low. “Don’t worry. They’re harmless. Plus, I’ve got your back.”

She looks at you, her eyes searching your face for something—reassurance, maybe. And whatever she finds there seems to calm her, if only a little. She nods, taking another sip of her Coke.

You don’t know why, but you can already tell she’s going to stay with you longer than just tonight. Something about her feels significant, like a spark of lightning caught in a jar. Quiet, shy, and utterly captivating.

—

The weeks bleed into one another, and before you know it, Ning is a fixture at the bar. Not officially, of course. She doesn’t work here, doesn’t drink much, and always leaves by midnight like Cinderella with a self-imposed curfew. But she’s here. Three nights a week, like clockwork, perching on her usual stool and ordering her usual Coke, sometimes daring to live dangerously with a Sprite.

At first, you thought she came because it was quiet, because she needed a place to escape whatever stresses her life held. But it’s become increasingly clear that the bar’s charm isn’t the only thing pulling her back. It’s you. And you’re not mad about it.

Tonight, she’s dressed like she always is—effortlessly cool in her slightly oversized sweater, rolled-up jeans, and her beat-up Doc Martens. Her leather jacket is slung over the back of the stool, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders like ink. She’s got her sketchbook with her tonight, the same one she’s been carrying for weeks. You’ve seen glimpses of the drawings—sketches of people, abstract swirls, the occasional cat—but she guards it like it contains state secrets, never letting you get a proper look.

“What are you working on this time?” you ask, leaning on the counter with the practiced nonchalance of a bartender-slash-business-student who definitely isn’t secretly invested in whatever she’s drawing.

She glances up from her page, cat-like eyes sparkling under the warm glow of the bar’s lights. “Nothing special. Just doodling.”

“That’s what you said last time,” you point out, reaching for a clean glass to wipe down. “And then you showed me that sketch of that old guy in the corner, and it looked like something out of a museum. You can admit it, Ning—you’re talented.”

She ducks her head, a faint blush creeping up her neck. “It’s not that good.”

“Sure,” you deadpan, “and I’m not the best bartender in this city.”

She laughs—a soft, melodic sound that you’ve started to look forward to more than you’d like to admit. “You’re not even the best bartender in this bar.”

You feign offense, clutching your chest. “Ouch. And here I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends,” she says, smiling up at you. “Which is why I’m honest with you.”

“Brutally honest,” you correct, smirking. “Fine. Tell me this: do all fine arts students have this much sass, or are you just special?”

“Special,” she says, sticking her tongue out. “And for the record, it’s not fine arts. It’s animation and visual effects. Totally different.”

You nod sagely, as if you know the first thing about animation or visual effects. “Ah, of course. Animation. You’re going to make the next Toy Story, right?”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning. “Something like that. What about you, Mr. Future CEO? Made any spreadsheets cry lately?”

“Every day,” you reply solemnly. “It’s part of the curriculum in business administration. They don’t let you graduate until you’ve traumatized at least three Excel files.”

Her laugh comes easily, her shoulders relaxing as she sips her Coke. She looks comfortable here now, like this place—and you—have become a safe haven for her.

It’s nice.

She’s nice.

“You know,” you say, setting the glass down and leaning closer, “when you first started coming here, I thought you were just using the bar as a library with worse lighting.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And now?”

“Now I think you’re here because you can’t resist my charm.”

She snorts into her drink, nearly choking. “Your charm? Please.”

“Hey, admit it. I make this place bearable for you.”

She tilts her head, pretending to consider. “You do make pretty good jokes.”

“High praise from the queen of sarcasm.”

Her smile softens slightly, the teasing edge in her voice fading. “I just like talking to you. You make things… lighter. Easier to deal with.”

You don’t know what to say to that. It’s rare for her to let her guard down like this, and you feel a sudden, inexplicable urge to keep it safe, to make sure she never regrets being vulnerable.

“Well,” you say, keeping your tone light, “as long as you keep coming back, I’ll keep telling terrible jokes. Deal?”

“Deal,” she says, holding out her hand like you’re signing a legally binding contract.

You shake her hand, her skin warm and soft against yours. There’s a moment—a brief, fleeting moment—where the noise of the bar fades away, and it’s just the two of you. Friends. Companions in this odd little corner of the world.

“By the way,” you add, breaking the moment, “if you ever need a businessperson in one of your animations, I know a guy.”

“Let me guess,” she says, smirking. “He’s incredibly charming and makes terrible jokes?”

“Exactly.”

She laughs again, and for the rest of the night, the bar feels a little brighter.

—

Ning sits cross-legged on her bed, a pencil tucked behind her ear and her sketchbook balanced on her knees. The room is bathed in soft, golden light from the desk lamp Minji insisted on buying, claiming it was better for productivity. Across the room, Minji herself sits at her desk, perfectly upright, fingers flying across the keyboard of her sleek laptop. She looks like a Vogue spread come to life, even in her oversized knit sweater and black leggings, her shiny, straight hair falling effortlessly over her shoulder.

Minji’s skin practically glows, the kind of flawless complexion that makes you wonder if she’s secretly Photoshopped in real life. Her glasses—a stylish, rectangular pair with gold rims—rest perfectly on the bridge of her pointy nose, framing dark, intelligent eyes that seem to miss nothing. Her lips, soft and plump, are painted a subtle pink, just enough to look effortlessly put together. She’s everything Ning isn’t: confident, composed, intimidatingly perfect.

Ning chews on her pencil, staring at her friend’s back. “Hey, Minji?”

“Hm?” Minji doesn’t look up from her screen. She’s probably working on some group project for her international business course. Even in her downtime, Minji is an efficiency machine.

“How do you, like…” Ning hesitates, fiddling with the corner of her sketchbook. “How do you get guys to notice you?”

That gets Minji’s attention. She swivels her chair around, fixing Ning with a look that’s equal parts amused and curious. “What kind of question is that?”

“You know what I mean,” Ning mumbles, heat rising to her cheeks. “You always have a line of guys chasing after you. It’s like… you just exist, and they’re obsessed with you.”

Minji raises an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. “It’s not like I’m trying to get their attention.”

“That’s exactly my point!” Ning groans, flopping backward onto her bed. “You don’t even try, and they’re all over you. Meanwhile, I could walk into a room naked, and no one would notice.”

“First of all, don’t do that,” Minji says dryly, folding her arms. “Second, you’re exaggerating.”

“I’m really not,” Ning mutters, staring at the ceiling. “You’re like this goddess of elegance or whatever, and I’m just… me. How do you make people like you?”

Minji sighs, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose in that annoyingly perfect way she does. “It’s not about making people like you, Ning. You just have to be yourself.”

Ning sits up, frowning. “That’s so easy for you to say. You’re perfect. People like you without you even trying.”

“I’m not perfect,” Minji says, though the way she says it makes it clear she knows she’s pretty close.

Ning snorts. “Please. You’re gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re the only person I know who actually looks good in those glasses. And don’t get me started on your ‘I just woke up like this’ hair.”

Minji chuckles softly, a sound that somehow feels condescending and comforting at the same time. “Okay, fine. Maybe I have some good qualities. But seriously, Ning, if you want people to notice you, just… put yourself out there.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not shy,” Ning mutters, pulling her knees to her chest.

Minji leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Shy people are fine, but if you never let anyone see who you really are, how are they supposed to notice you?”

“What if who I really am is… shy?” Ning asks, her voice small.

“Then be the best version of shy,” Minji says simply. “Confidence doesn’t mean being loud or outgoing. It just means being comfortable with who you are. People are drawn to that.”

Ning stares at her, skeptical. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” Minji admits, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. “But if you don’t at least try, nothing’s going to change. And trust me, you don’t need to change who you are. You just need to stop hiding it.”

Ning chews on her lip, mulling that over. Minji makes it sound logical, like a formula to be solved. But Ning isn’t sure she can simply flip a switch and become “the best version” of herself.

“And if it doesn’t work?” she asks.

Minji shrugs, her lips curling into a faint smile. “Then it’s their loss.”

Ning laughs despite herself, the tension in her chest loosening just a bit. “You’re annoyingly good at this, you know that?”

Minji smirks, turning back to her laptop. “I know. Now stop overthinking and start being fabulous. You’ve got this, Ning.”

Ning watches her friend for a moment longer, a mixture of admiration and frustration swirling in her chest. If Minji says she can do it, maybe she can. But it still feels like an impossible climb.

“Hey, Minji?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Minji doesn’t turn around, but her voice is warm. “Anytime.”

—

The door to the bar swings open, and in walks Ning with a determined look in her cat-like eyes. She’s wearing a fitted white crop top that shows just a hint of her toned stomach, a plaid mini skirt, and her signature scuffed Doc Martens. Her hair is loose, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves, and there’s a hint of pink gloss on her lips. Tonight, she’s decided, is the night.

No more shy, stammering Ning. Tonight, she’s confident, bold, maybe even flirty. She’s spent the past three days psyching herself up for this moment, replaying Minji’s advice in her head like a mantra. Put yourself out there. Be the best version of yourself. You’ve got this.

The bar is warm and dimly lit as always, the low hum of conversation filling the air. She spots you cleaning a table, laughing at something one of the regulars said, your easy charm on full display. You see Ning and wave to her with a smile. Her heart skips a beat, but she steels herself. You’ve got this, she repeats silently, striding toward the bar.

Or at least, she tries to.

What she doesn’t see, in her single-minded determination, is the bright yellow Wet Floor sign in the middle of the room. Her Doc Martens hit the slick patch of tiles, and suddenly, her confident stride turns into a cartoonish flail.

“Shit—!”

She feels herself going down, her arms pinwheeling as gravity takes over. But just before she hits the ground, a pair of strong hands catch her, one gripping her waist and the other cradling her back.

“You okay?” Your voice is close—too close—and when she blinks up at you, she realizes her face is just inches from yours.

Her heart is pounding, and not just from the near-death experience. Your eyes, warm and concerned, lock onto hers, and she can feel the heat rising in her cheeks. “I—yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.” Her voice comes out quieter than she’d like, all the confidence she’d mustered evaporating on the spot.

You grin, helping her stand upright but keeping a hand on her arm to steady her. “That was a close one. You almost went full slapstick there.”

“Yeah, well, I like to keep things entertaining,” she mumbles, avoiding your gaze. Her ankle twinges as she shifts her weight, and she winces.

“You sure you’re okay?” you ask, noticing the way she’s favoring one foot.

“It’s just my ankle,” she admits. “I think I twisted it a little.”

“Let’s get you off your feet,” you say, guiding her to a booth in the corner. “Come on, sit down.”

“I’m fine, really,” she protests, but you’re already pulling out a chair for her.

Once she’s seated, you crouch down in front of her, gently taking her foot in your hands. “Let me check it out. I can’t have my best customer suing the bar.”

She snorts softly, despite herself. “It’s my fault for not seeing the sign.”

“Well, next time, try looking where you’re going,” you tease, flashing her a grin that makes her heart skip again.

You slide off her boot carefully, your fingers brushing against her ankle. She tries not to shiver at the touch, but it’s impossible. Your hands are warm and firm, and when you start to massage the sore spot, she has to bite her lip to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

“You’re really good at this,” she says, her voice coming out a little breathier than she intended.

“Comes with practice,” you reply, focused on her foot. “My ex used to come home from work with sore feet all the time, so I’d give her massages. Got pretty good at it after a while.”

Ning’s ears perk up at the mention of your ex. “Oh?” she says, trying to sound casual. “What happened there?”

“She was… complicated,” you say, choosing your words carefully. “Kind of jealous. Possessive. A little manic, honestly.” You pause, then chuckle, shaking your head. “I guess I have a type. Crazy girls seem to find me.”

She swallows hard, caught off guard. “Is that why you’re single now?”

“Pretty much,” you admit, still massaging her ankle. “Taking a break from relationships for a while. Thought I’d give myself some peace and quiet, you know?”

Ning’s heart sinks, though she forces a smile. “Makes sense. Less drama.”

“Exactly,” you say, glancing up at her with a grin. “And besides, who needs a girlfriend when I’ve got customers like you to keep me company?”

She laughs softly, but it feels hollow in her chest. She watches as you go back to massaging her foot, completely unaware of the tiny heartbreak you’ve just caused. But she doesn’t say anything.

Because Minji’s words echo in her head: Be the best version of yourself. And tonight, the best version of herself is just a good friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

—

The dorm bathroom is small, humid, and filled with the faint scent of citrus-scented body wash. The door is open, so the fragrance invades the whole bedroom. The overhead light flickers faintly, casting a soft glow over the scene. Minji stands by the sink in nothing but a pale lavender bra and matching underwear, her skin luminous under the harsh fluorescent light. She’s methodically applying lotion to her arms, her long, straight hair pushed over one shoulder to avoid smearing it. Every movement she makes is precise, deliberate, like everything else about her.

Ning is by the closet, half-dressed, rifling through her limited wardrobe with a furrowed brow. She’s wearing an oversized graphic tee that hangs off one shoulder, exposing the curve of her collarbone and the straps of her bralette. Her plaid pajama shorts are crumpled, a stark contrast to Minji’s immaculate appearance.

“Can I ask you something?” Minji’s voice cuts through the quiet hum of the room, soft but with that unmistakable edge of curiosity.

Ning freezes, her fingers lingering on the hem of a black skirt she’s debating on. “Uh, sure. What’s up?”

Minji finishes with her arms and moves on to her legs, bending one knee and propping her foot up on the closed toilet lid. Her movements are unhurried, as if the question isn’t a big deal. “Where do you go every week? At night, I mean.”

She glances over her shoulder, her face warming under Minji’s unreadable gaze. “Nowhere. Just… out.”

“Nowhere?” Minji’s lips curve in a faint smile as she straightens up, tilting her head slightly. Her sharp, dark eyes scan Ning, taking in the flush on her cheeks, the way her fingers fidget with the fabric of her skirt. “That doesn’t sound like nowhere.”

“I mean it’s not anywhere in particular,” Ning mumbles, turning back to the closet. She grabs a random top to busy her hands, hoping Minji will let it go.

But Minji doesn’t let things go. “Ning,” she says, her voice calm but insistent. “You’ve been going out at least twice a week for the past month. You get dressed up, come back late, and you never say where you’ve been. It’s weird, because it's not something you used to do.”

Ning turns around, clutching the top against her chest like a shield. “It’s not weird.”

Minji quirks an eyebrow, her lips twitching as if she’s holding back a laugh. “You don’t think so? Because to me, it looks like you’re sneaking off to see someone.”

“I’m not!” Ning’s voice rises slightly in protest, her face turning a deeper shade of pink. She tosses the top onto the bed and grabs her sketchbook from the desk. “Look, I take this with me, okay? How could I be seeing a boy if I’m bringing this?”

Minji’s eyes drop to the sketchbook, then lift back to Ning’s face, skeptical but intrigued. “I don’t know. Art students have strange habits. Maybe you’re sketching him while you’re there.”

Ning groans, plopping onto the bed and flipping the sketchbook open to a random page. “It’s not like that. There’s a bar I go to. It’s… quiet, and it helps with creativity.”

“Creativity,” Minji repeats, crossing her arms as she leans against the sink. Her hair falls perfectly over one shoulder, her glasses catching the light just enough to make her look like a chic librarian. “That’s your story?”

“Yes!” Ning huffs, holding up the sketchbook like it’s evidence in a trial. “See? Just sketches. No boys, no dates, nothing like that.”

Minji steps closer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies Ning’s face. “So you’re telling me you sit at a bar all night, alone, with your sketchbook? That’s it?”

“Well…” Ning hesitates, her fingers gripping the edges of the book. “There’s this bartender I talk to sometimes. But he’s just a friend.”

“A friend.” Minji’s voice is flat, but there’s a glint of amusement in her eyes. “What’s his name?”

“Does it matter?” Ning mutters, ducking her head.

“Probably not,” Minji replies, her tone maddeningly casual. “But now everything is even more suspicious.”

Ning sighs, flipping the sketchbook closed. “Oh, whatever! He’s the bartender. We talk. That’s it.”

“And you’re just friends?”

“Yes.” Ning’s voice is firm, but her cheeks betray her with their telltale blush.

Minji watches her for a moment longer, then does something that catches Ning completely off guard. She smiles. Not her usual poised, mysterious smile, but something softer.

“Can I go too?”

Ning blinks, sure she’s misheard. “What?”

“To the bar,” Minji says, stepping closer until she’s standing right in front of Ning. “If it’s so great for creativity, I want to see it.”

“You want to go to the bar?” Ning asks, her voice incredulous. “The one I go to?”

“Why not?” Minji shrugs, grabbing her towel and tossing it into the laundry basket. “It’s not a date, right? If you’re just hanging out with a friend, I don’t see why I can’t come along.”

Ning stares at her, unsure whether to laugh or panic. “Are you serious?”

Minji leans down slightly, her glasses sliding down her nose as she meets Ning’s wide-eyed gaze. “Dead serious.”

“But…” Ning struggles to find a reason, any reason, why this is a terrible idea. “What about your coursework? You’re always busy.”

Minji straightens up, brushing her hair over her shoulder with practiced ease. “I can spare a night. Besides,” she adds, smirking, “I want to meet this ‘just a friend’ of yours.”

Minji’s calm confidence is both reassuring and terrifying. She knows Minji means well, but she also knows her friend. Minji doesn’t just show up. She observes.

Still, it’s hard to say no when Minji looks at her like that, her dark eyes steady and full of quiet determination.

“Okay,” Ning says finally. “You can come.”

Minji smiles, a triumphant glint in her eye. “Great. I’ll get ready.”

As Minji walks away, Ning flops back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. This was supposed to be simple. Just her, the bar, and a chance to take things slow with you.

Now?

She has no idea what’s about to happen.

—

The bar’s hum is steady but quiet tonight, soft music playing from the jukebox, mingling with the low murmur of scattered conversations. You’re behind the counter, wiping down glasses and vaguely thinking about the economics lecture you skipped today when the door swings open.

You look up instinctively, and there she is—Ning. Except she’s not alone.

Ning walks in first, a bundle of energy in her casual but cool outfit: a cropped black sweater that shows just a hint of her toned stomach, paired with loose cargo pants that sit snug on her hips, and her ever-present Doc Martens. She looks great—like she always does—but it’s the girl walking in behind her that makes your breath catch.

Minji.

She’s dressed simply—an elegant cream blouse tucked into high-waisted, dark-wash jeans that make her legs look impossibly long. Her black hair falls in a sleek curtain down her back, and she’s wearing the kind of gold-rimmed glasses that make other people look like try-hards but somehow make her look even more stunning. There’s something about her presence—poised but approachable, with a quiet confidence that fills the room—that makes it hard to look away.

“Hey!” Ning’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts as she practically bounces over to the counter. She gestures enthusiastically toward her companion. “This is my best friend, Minji. You’ll love her.”

You recover quickly, setting the glass down and offering a smile. “Hey, Minji. Nice to meet you.”

Minji steps forward, her smile polite but warm. “Nice to meet you too. Ning comes here every week, I got curious and realized I needed to see it myself.”

You nod, trying not to seem too obvious as you take her in. “Well, welcome. Hope it lives up to the hype.”

Ning slides onto her usual stool, pulling out her sketchbook like it’s just another normal night. “He’s being modest. It’s the coolest place ever. And the bartender’s alright, I guess.”

You smirk at her teasing but find yourself glancing back at Minji. “What can I get you two?”

“The usual for me,” Ning says, flipping through the pages of her sketchbook.

“And for you?” you ask Minji.

She tilts her head slightly, considering. “Something light. I don’t drink much—health reasons.”

“Got it.” You start preparing the drinks, glancing at her again. “If you don’t mind me asking, health reasons?”

Ning's Coke is ready in moments, she takes a sip absentmindedly as she looks at her sketchbook.

“I have a heart condition,” she says casually, like she’s used to explaining it. “Nothing too serious, but I can’t really handle strong drinks.”

“Fair enough,” you say, sliding the glass across the counter toward her. “This should be light enough.”

She takes a sip, her lips curving into a small smile. “Perfect. Thanks.”

Ning, who’s been scribbling something in her sketchbook, looks up suddenly. “Minji has been really nosy lately, she wouldn't leave me alone until I brought her here, she's never done this before.”

“Oh yeah?” you say, raising an eyebrow at Minji. “Was she really that mysterious about it?”

Minji laughs softly, setting her drink down. “You have no idea. She’d leave without saying much, come back late, and when I’d ask where she was, she’d just shrug and say ‘out.’” She glances at Ning, her tone amused. “It was suspicious.”

Ning groans dramatically. “It wasn’t suspicious! I just didn’t feel like explaining.”

“Well, I’m glad you brought her along tonight,” you say, smiling at Minji. “It’s nice to meet one of Ning’s friends.”

“Best friend,” Ning corrects, nudging Minji with her elbow. “We’ve known each other forever.”

Minji chuckles. “She’s exaggerating. It’s only been a few years. But yeah, we’ve been through a lot together.”

You lean against the counter, genuinely curious. “How’d you two meet?”

“Orientation,” Minji says, glancing at Ning.

“At first I thought she was snobbish for being so serious."

“And I thought you looked like a troublemaker,” Minji counters, her eyes sparkling with humor.

You can’t help but laugh at their banter. “So, Minji, what are you studying?”

“International business,” she says, adjusting her glasses slightly. “What about you?”

“Business administration,” you reply, and her face lights up with interest.

“Oh, really? That’s great. What year are you in?”

“Third,” you say. “It’s not as glamorous as international business, but it keeps me busy.”

“It’s not glamorous,” Minji says with a small smile. “But it’s practical. And honestly, that’s more important.”

You nod, impressed by her straightforwardness. “So what made you choose international business?”

She takes another sip of her drink, her expression thoughtful. “I guess I like the idea of understanding how things work on a global scale. It’s a challenge, but I enjoy it.”

Ning, who’s been quiet for a moment, suddenly speaks up. “She’s being humble. She’s the smartest person I know. She even helps me figure out my art projects sometimes.”

Minji shrugs, clearly a little embarrassed. “I just give her feedback. She’s the real talent.”

You glance at Ning, your curiosity piqued. “What kind of feedback?”

“She helps me refine ideas,” Ning says, twirling her pencil. “Like, if I’m stuck on a concept, she’ll point out things I didn’t think of. It’s annoying how good she is at it.”

Minji rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of affection in her expression. “It’s not that hard. I just have an outside perspective.”

“Well, it sounds like you two make a good team,” you say, genuinely impressed by their dynamic.

Minji smiles, her gaze lingering on you for a second longer than you expect. “We do. But I think I understand why Ning likes coming here now. It’s… nice.”

“Yeah,” Ning chimes in, her voice a little softer. “It is.”

The three of you fall into an easy rhythm after that, talking and laughing like old friends. But every now and then, you catch yourself glancing at Minji, wondering what it is about her that feels so… magnetic.

—

The bar has never been livelier for you, not because of an influx of customers but because Ning and Minji have made it their unofficial hangout spot. At first, it was a bit surreal—Ning showing up with her best friend in tow, bright-eyed and eager to introduce her to her favorite bartender. But over the next few weeks, it becomes routine.

Monday Night

Ning and Minji arrive together, as they always do. Ning’s dressed in her usual casual style—cropped sweatshirt, ripped jeans, and her trusty Doc Martens—while Minji looks effortlessly polished in a tailored blazer over a white camisole and straight-leg pants.

“Usual?” you ask Ning, already reaching for the soda gun.

“Of course,” she says, hopping onto her usual stool.

“And for you?” you ask Minji.

“I’ll take the same thing as last time,” she says, her smile easy. “That drink was great.”

You get to work, sliding the Coke over to Ning and preparing Minji’s light cocktail. “So, how’s the week been treating you two?”

“Terrible,” Ning groans dramatically, opening her sketchbook. “I’m behind on like, three projects.”

Minji snorts, glancing at Ning over the rim of her glass. “That’s because you spent the entire weekend rewatching Spirited Away instead of working.”

“It was research!” Ning protests, flipping through her sketches. “It’s a masterpiece!”

You chuckle, leaning on the bar. “She’s got a point. Spirited Away is definitely worth rewatching.”

Minji raises an eyebrow. “I don’t disagree. But maybe she could balance her research with her deadlines.”

The two of you share a laugh, and Ning pouts.

“You’re both nerds,” she mutters, earning a grin from you.

“Guilty as charged,” you say, raising a random glass in a mock toast.

Wednesday Night

Tonight, Minji’s in a soft blue sweater that matches her dark-rimmed glasses, her hair swept back in a loose braid. Ning looks a little tired, probably from pulling an all-nighter.

“You look like death,” Minji observes bluntly as they sit down.

“Gee, thanks,” Ning says, dropping onto the stool and slumping over the counter.

“You okay?” you ask, sliding her a Coke without waiting for her order.

“Just tired,” Ning mumbles, sipping her drink.

Minji tilts her head at you. “So, did you finish that econ paper you mentioned last time?”

You perk up, surprised she remembered. “Yeah, just barely. Turns out writing about financial markets at two in the morning isn’t fun.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Minji says, her lips curving into a small smile. “But I bet you still nailed it.”

Ning watches the exchange, feeling a pang of something she can’t quite name. She clears her throat. “Hey, can we talk about something not boring?”

“Sure,” you say, turning to her. “What’s on your mind?”

“Aliens,” Ning declares, grinning. “Do you think they exist?”

Minji sighs. “Oh god, not this again.”

You laugh, genuinely amused. “Honestly? I hope so. Would make the universe a lot more interesting.”

Ning beams, satisfied, while Minji shakes her head. “This is why she likes coming here,” Minji says dryly. “You encourage her nonsense.”

“Hey,” you protest, “it’s not nonsense. It’s curiosity.”

Minji chuckles, and Ning feels a little less out of place.

Friday Night

The bar is slightly busier, but the two of them still manage to snag their usual seats. Minji looks radiant in a sleek black blouse and gold hoop earrings, her makeup subtle but flawless. Ning, in her oversized hoodie and her Doc Martens looks comfortable but feels distinctly underdressed next to her friend.

“You look nice tonight,” you say to Minji as you hand her drink over.

“Thanks,” she replies, her voice calm and self-assured. “Ning practically dragged me out of the dorm, so I figured I’d make an effort.”

“You’re welcome,” Ning says with mock pride.

“So,” Minji says, turning to you, “tell me more about your business classes. Do you focus on entrepreneurship or management?”

“A little of both,” you reply, leaning on the counter. “Right now, we’re working on case studies about startups.”

“Oh, I love those,” Minji says, her eyes lighting up. “Which case studies are you doing?”

As you dive into the topic, Ning finds herself zoning out. The conversation is engaging—Minji is clearly knowledgeable, and you seem genuinely interested in what she has to say—but it’s not her world. She fiddles with her straw, feeling invisible as the two of you talk animatedly about market trends and business strategies.

Eventually, she clears her throat. “Hey, do you think they’d let me draw on the walls here?”

Both of you turn to her, surprised.

“I mean, this place could use some art,” she says, grinning.

“Go for it,” you say, laughing. “Just don’t tell my boss I approved it.”

Minji chuckles softly, shaking her head. “You’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly creative,” Ning corrects, feeling a little more grounded again.

Sunday Night

The bar is nearly empty, the quiet hum of the jukebox filling the space. Ning is doodling absently in her sketchbook, while Minji sips her drink and chats with you.

“So, what do you do for fun?” Minji asks, her tone light but genuinely curious.

“Work, mostly,” you admit. “But when I have time, I like hiking. Clears my head.”

“I didn’t peg you as the outdoorsy type,” she says, a hint of teasing in her voice.

You shrug. “Gotta balance all the business talk with something peaceful.”

Ning glances up from her sketchbook, watching the two of you. There’s something about the way Minji leans slightly forward when she talks to you, the way her smile lingers a little longer.

“Do you hike?” you ask Minji.

“Sometimes,” she says. “But only when Ning drags me along.”

“Hey, I make hiking fun,” Ning protests, jumping back into the conversation.

“You complain the whole time,” Minji points out, smirking.

“Because you always pick the hardest trails!”

You laugh, the sound warm and genuine. “I’d pay to see that.”

“Next time, you’re coming with us,” Minji says.

Ning blinks, caught off guard by the suggestion. She glances between you and Minji, unsure how to feel about the way this strange triangle is starting to form.

As the night winds down, the three of you settle into a comfortable rhythm, but Ning can’t shake the feeling that something is shifting—slowly, subtly, but undeniably.

—

The three of you have fallen into a strange, unspoken routine—meeting up not just at the bar but beyond it, like some evolving trio of mismatched energy. It feels natural, at least on the surface, even if Ning occasionally finds herself analyzing every interaction, dissecting every glance and laugh.

Tonight, you’re at the movies, sitting in a darkened theater. Ning insisted on watching the latest animated film, claiming it was "research" for her art, though the truth is she just really loves animated movies. You and Minji went along with it, no complaints. Ning sits between you and Minji, a giant bucket of popcorn balanced precariously on her lap.

Halfway through the movie, she notices how Minji leans slightly toward you, sharing whispered comments about the plot. Ning can’t quite hear what you’re saying, but the low rumble of your laugh makes her feel strangely uncomfortable.

“Pass the popcorn,” you murmur, your hand brushing Ning’s as you reach for the bucket.

She stiffens slightly, then relaxes. “Here. Don’t eat all the good pieces.”

“You’re weirdly protective of popcorn,” you tease, taking a handful.

“Popcorn hierarchy is a real thing,” she replies, smirking. But her voice sounds hollow to her own ears.

Minji chuckles, leaning closer. “She’s serious about it. She once bit my hand when I took the last caramel piece.”

“I did not bite you!” Ning protests, her cheeks flushing.

Minji glances at you, her smile lingering. “She absolutely did.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I believe it.”

The sound of your laugh sends a pang through Ning’s chest. She knows it’s stupid, knows she’s overthinking. But the way you and Minji interact—effortless, like equals—feels different.

Later That Week

The three of you are at a college basketball game, seated in the bleachers. It was your idea this time, a way to do something “normal and fun” after a week of classes. Ning, determined to feel confident, showed up in a cropped tank top and tight jeans, her makeup more pronounced than usual.

But as the game goes on, she notices the subtle ways you treat her. When she trips on the bleachers, you catch her arm, laughing softly. “Careful, kid. Don’t want you breaking something.”

“Kid?” she echoes, raising an eyebrow. “I’m literally an adult.”

“Barely,” you tease, ruffling her hair in a way that makes her want to scream.

Meanwhile, when Minji leans over to ask you something, your tone shifts. It’s subtle, but Ning catches it. You’re attentive, leaning slightly closer, your voice quieter. When Minji laughs at something you say, it’s like the whole world fades out for a second, leaving just the two of you.

Ning fiddles with her phone, pretending not to notice.

At one point, Minji turns to her. “Hey, are you okay? You’ve been really quiet.”

“I’m fine,” Ning says quickly, forcing a smile. “Just… not a huge basketball fan.”

Minji studies her for a moment but doesn’t press. She turns back to you, asking something about the game. Ning doesn’t bother listening.

The Bar, One Week Later

It’s a typical slow night, the kind you’ve come to expect when it’s not the weekend. You’re behind the counter, wiping down glasses and occasionally glancing at the door out of habit. When it swings open, you look up, expecting to see Ning and Minji together as usual.

But it’s just Minji.

She steps inside, her presence as poised as ever. She’s wearing a fitted black turtleneck and a sleek gray coat, her hair tucked neatly behind her ears. There’s a calm confidence in the way she walks, like she owns the space without even trying.

“Hey,” you say, smiling as she approaches the bar. “Where’s Ning?”

“She’s sick,” Minji replies, sliding onto one of the stools. “It’s just me tonight.”

There's a hint of excitement in her voice, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. The absence of Ning—her usual energy, her playful remarks—feels strange. But Minji’s presence is undeniable, grounding.

“Just you,” you repeat, setting a glass on the counter. “Alright. What can I get you?”

Minji smiles, a small, knowing curve of her lips. “Surprise me.”

part 3

[ofbatsandballads]

pretty little birds

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: suggestive content, reader works at the Iceberg Lounge as a server/dancer/informant for Oz, slight objectification from Oz, reader described as having long hair but no other physical descriptions, slight implication of potential SA (nothing happens, just concern over it)

a/n: been thinking of Jason with a girl who works at the Iceberg Lounge ever since I watched The Batman and saw Selina’s gorgeous self working there. something about her and Bruce’s dynamic was very alluring and I realized how much better it would work with Jason so this was born. might make this a series, might not; who knows? not me! also if you want a nice visual aid for the club, I fully based it off the Gotham Knights version of the lounge.

divider credit: strangergraphics

Jason wasn’t a fan of the Iceberg Lounge. He’d been there plenty of times for missions, for reconnaissance, to beat the shit out of Oswald—it didn’t mean he liked it there. The club was ostentatious, loud and vulgar like everything that went on within it. He always scoffed when he saw it during patrol. An actual iceberg exterior; how corny could Cobblepot get?

He did have to admit that it was nicer inside. The marble floors, balconies, and columns lended an elegance to the place that it didn’t deserve. The neon blues and pinks of the lighting served to disorient, to intoxicate alongside the drinks that were served across the bar and the drugs that were passed behind it. The massive penguin ice sculpture in the center was tacky though. Jason could think of a million better design choices than that.

All this to say that he wasn’t thrilled to be sent to the club per Bruce’s orders of seeing if Oz was still as legit as he claimed. He wasn’t. They all knew it but B needed proof. Jason’s sure by proof Bruce meant that he wanted him to go undercover, but one of the advantages of being Red Hood is that he can go where the other Bats can’t. That distinction is how he finds himself stalking the club from his vantage point in the shadows.

It’s busy tonight. The main floor is crowded with people. Bodies push and pull to the rhythm of the music that blares from the speakers. As tightly crammed as the floor is, the servers still manage to weave through with a practiced grace. They’re all in various states of undress; short skirts, crop tops, some in straight up underwear. Jason recognizes the servers for what Cobblepot intends them to be: a distraction. They’re all young and beautiful—pretty girls and boys that are meant to draw your eye so you don’t see the money and the drugs that pass between their hands.

Jason zeroes in on the two working the floor for any indication of something illegal. Oswald’s been smarter since his last stint in Blackgate. He lets the filth of the city do their deals in his club while he himself is never caught up in it. The argument of “well I didn’t do it” usually wouldn’t hold up legally, but this is Gotham. His eyes track the man first. He’s weaving in and out, laughing with what must be the regulars. He’s charming them, plying them with more and more alcohol to stay longer, to spend more money. He’s not doing anything more than that, though, to Jason’s utmost disappointment. He turns his attention to the girl instead.

The difference between the two of you is so obvious it’s almost amusing. While the guy weaved fluidly through the throng of people like something unseen, the crowd itself seems to part for you. Recognition, some degree of respect, power—that’s what you’ve got over the drunken group of people. He immediately knows that his best bet will be with you. Everything about you echoes the pull you must have in the club. The way you walk, how you smile at the regulars, the drifting of your hands across shoulders and backs and jawlines. It’s even clear in the way you’re dressed. You look like something out of a cabaret show. Pink silk lingerie lined with black lace flowers, black fringe beads that form the idea of a skirt rather than an actual one, and those same beads hanging in alluring arcs across your arms, neck, and chest. You’re dressed up like Penguin’s favorite dream.

You’re also not doing anything illegal. Sure, he’s watched you take money from people, but all you bring back are drinks. He watches for over half an hour, eyes always trailing back to you. Nothing. It’s remarkable how much absolutely nothing he’s seen. His patience is wearing thin. It’s one in the morning and there are better things he could be doing, people he could be helping. But he can’t leave without something for Bruce. He tries to ignore the bile that rises in his throat when he thinks of why he still cares about disappointing him. His eyebrow twitches and he decides suddenly and definitively: fuck it.

So he kicks in Penguin’s office doors.

“Ah, Red Hood. If it ain’t Gotham’s least favorite vigilante,” Oswald mutters past the cigar in his mouth. “Shut the doors behind you, would ya?”

Jason kicks them shut. No one needs to see the bloody mess that Oswald’s going to be in about fifteen minutes.

“Ah ah ah. Before you get any ideas, I would advise you to consider how bad it would be for you to be caught assaulting a reformed citizen of this great city,” Oswald gloats, stubby finger pointing at the camera in the corner.

Fuck. Now Jason has to talk. He hates talking to Cobblepot. It gets you approximately nowhere fast.

“Reformed? We both know you’re full of shit, Oz,” Red Hood taunts.

“I’m on the straight and narrow. Scout’s honor,” Penguin laughs, coughing through the harsh inhale he took of his cigar.

Nowhere. Fast.

“You’re bringing in too much money for that to be true. Your parties aren’t that good, Cobblepot.”

“Eh, you haven’t seen my toys. Most of ‘em come for the pretty little things I keep around.”

“So you’re pimping them out? You see that I can work with,” Hood retorts.

It would make sense, Oz getting his servers into sex work. It’s not the worst thing he could do if they were all willing. And if they weren’t? Well, that gives Jason a nice excuse to finally put a bullet through The Penguin.

“You don’t listen too well, do you? I’m a changed man. People can look at my dolls, but they can’t touch. Everyone loves eye candy,” Oswald says.

The doors open just as Jason considers pulling a gun on Oswald, cameras recording him or not.

“And there’s my favorite. What do ya need, doll?”

Jason watches you saunter in. You move with an almost feline gracefulness. His eyes clock the sway of your hips and the way you toss your hair over your shoulder. Then he watches the way Cobblepot’s pupils dilate as his eyes lock on you. You plant your hands on the desk, bend over as you smile saccharine at the old man sitting behind it. Oh, you’re good. Very good.

“Nothing much. Just that DA wanting his usual,” you say.

Oswald’s eyes rake lecherously over your body. He looks at you like he wants to put you in one of the glass cases that decorate his office. It makes Jason’s stomach turn. Then he pulls a key out from a locked drawer and drops it into your open palm. Now that piques his interest.

“Thanks, Oz,” you say sweetly.

As you straighten up and spin around to leave, Penguin grabs your wrist and yanks you back. He leaves one kiss on the inside of your wrist and that pretty facade cracks. It’s only for a second, so quick that Oswald doesn’t see it. Jason does. Disgust. Pure disgust flashes across your face before it’s replaced by an alluring smile. Your eyes spark with something Jason can’t quite read.

“Mind if I get some too, Ozzie? You know how much I like it,” you ask as you play with the beads that dangle on your chest.

“Sure, doll. Take whatever you want,” Oswald acquiesces.

Your face lights up and you look almost victorious. Then you spin around and head towards the doors. To this point you haven’t acknowledged him, the known vigilante, at all. But just before you leave, you pause right next to him. Jason tries not to flinch as your hand runs up his arm.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed your night here. Next time, feel free to ask for anything you want. Wouldn’t want Oz’s guests to get bored,” you purr.

Your eyes lock with the white lenses of his domino mask and Jason feels the air leave his lungs. You’d seen him. You knew he was there the whole fucking time. And you hadn’t told anyone. If you had, Cobblepot would’ve sent security in guns blazing.

“Have a good night, honey,” you tell him as you waltz out the door.

“See, Hood? Eye candy,” Oz hacks.

Jason follows you. What else was he supposed to do? Oswald gave him nothing. But you? You gave him what felt suspiciously like a lead. Ask for anything you want, you’d said. What else could you think he wanted but proof of Oswald’s lingering corruption? So he follows you. He’s careful this time. Quiet, precise steps that give no indication he’s near. It’s times like these he’s grateful for all the stealth training Bruce made him do as a kid.

He trails behind as you head downstairs. You weave through the maze of corridors until you come to a mahogany door, elaborately carved with floral emblems. It’s got an old brass lock on it that you slot the key into. Jason waits one beat, two, three—then goes through the door where you disappeared.

He finds you inside, crouching in front of an open safe. A rainbow of jewels glitter within. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds—there had to be enough jewelry in there to cover the cost of a couple of Bruce’s tricked out sports cars. You pull a more modest sapphire necklace from the safe and place it into one of the grab bags that guests can take home at the end of the night. So that’s what the DA wanted. You grab a far more ostentatious diamond bracelet and slip it into your bra.

“Think it’s a good idea to steal from your boss?”

You jump. Jason doesn’t want to admit how satisfied he is by that. He was a little worried that he’d lost his touch. You twirl around, eyes locked on the vigilante leaning against the closed door.

“Hmm…when I’ve got him wrapped around my finger? Why not?” you smirk.

You’re brave. He’ll give you that.

“Must really be putting on a show for him if you’re not worried,” he presses.

Your smile drops and your eye twitches in annoyance. He’s hit a nerve. Good.

“A show. That’s all it is. If he’s stupid enough to think it’ll be more than that, that’s his problem,” you bite, tone dripping venom instead of honey.

“Not scared he’ll realize the trick? Or what he’ll do when he does?” Red Hood asks as he fiddles with a knife he keeps in his belt.

He asks with sincerity. It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. You could end up dead. Or worse. Jason’s no stranger to people taking what they want by force, and Oz clearly wants you.

“Oswald’s a coward,” you reply harshly. “He only fucks with people weaker than him. So no, I’m not scared of toying with him. He won’t do a goddamn thing to me.”

Jason cocks his head, sizing you up. A pretty girl in lingerie working in a club thinks she’s stronger than a crime lord. Well, you’re probably not wrong.

“You’re not weak?” he asks mockingly.

But it’s still fun to test your resolve. To your credit and Jason’s surprise, you just grin. A breathy laugh falls from your red lips and Jason can’t help the way his eyes flicker down to look at the curve of them.

“I got this without so much as a fight, didn’t I?” you gloat, grabbing the diamond bracelet and swinging it around your middle finger.

“He let you.”

“Precisely. What exactly are you missing here? He let me. Because he’s a fool. And to let me take this bracelet specifically? Well, he’s just about the village idiot,” you laugh.

Jason sees the bait. His stubbornness almost makes him want to not ask just to spite you. But it’s just too intriguing.

“What’s so special about that bracelet?”

You smile wryly. Jason’s reflexes are the only reason he catches the bracelet as you toss it to him from across the room.

“Oh, I think you’re smart enough to figure that one out yourself, baby,” you purr. “Now get the fuck out.”

Jason does as he’s told. He returns to the cave with no intel beyond a locked room with a safe full of jewels and a diamond bracelet. Imagine his shock when Bruce analyzes the serial markings of the bracelet and finds that it was part of a collection that got robbed from a boutique in the Diamond District. It had been months and they hadn’t found a single piece of jewelry from the robbery. There were no leads on who did it or how. And now one of the most expensive pieces is sitting on the Batcomputer. Jason can guess where the rest are.

“Who gave you this?” Bruce asks skeptically.

Always doubt with the old man.

“A friend. Maybe,” Jason ponders.

Bruce rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Jason grins at how exhausted all his kids make him. It’s a point of pride among them: who can stress out B the most?

“You should figure that out,” Bruce scolds.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

Jason’s suddenly got a very vested interest in the Iceberg Lounge, and he’s going to satiate that curiosity if it kills him again.

[cherrycranes]

Real Cowgirls Ride (Emmett x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Emmett (A Quiet Place 2) x Fem!Reader Summary: When you go to a bar in upstate New York with your girlfriends for a bachelorette party, you encounter a hot rugged man who´ll teach you how to ride like a real cowgirl. Word count: 4,248 Contents: (Minors DNI). No apocalypse AU. Age gap (Reader is 24, Emmett is 39), Oral sex (fem receiving), a little bit of ass licking (fem receiving), fingering, P in v, protected sex! Author's notes: Once more, a collab with @fuckiingloser cause that's my wifey. Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. Enjoy the ass licker.

It was the first time you ever stepped a foot in this rural upstate New York town. Certainly an interesting choice for a bachelorette party, but your friend: the bride, and her future husband had grown up here. It was nice, though. A very appreciated change of scenery from your busy downtown New York City life. It had been a 3 hour drive to get here, and you planned to just have a good time.

The party had a cowgirl theme and you had gone all out: a borrowed pair of red cowgirl boots that you had never imagined wearing in your life, a pair of dangerously tiny Daisy Duke jean shorts and a white cropped t-shirt that said “Budweiser” across the front. All topped with a matching cowboy hat sitting on top of your head. Your girlfriends showered you with compliments, you played the part so well.

It was around 11:30 pm now, and after several stops of the bar crawl, you all walked into a smoky, dark dive bar. The neon signs gave the entire room a dull glow. It was moderately full, mostly with old blue collar men tired from a long day's work. Some of them gave your group a few stares that only your tipsy state managed to ignore. You had come here for fun, and that’s what you would have. 

You got a big table, ordered some drinks and shots and cheered for the bride, wishing her all the best with the love of her life. And, in secret, you hopelessly wished that you would find yours too… You were painfully single at 24 and your only one previous boyfriend had cheated on you after a year of dating. You were still young but loneliness stung.

To distract yourself, you ordered a few more shots and just went along with the vibe of the bar and your friends’ laughter. Some moments later, you wandered over to the old school jukebox that sat alone on a dark corner to flip through the endless pages of song options. Some you knew, some you didn’t, and one you picked before a rugged voice behind you interrupted you:

“Excuse me, miss...” You turned to look. “I just have to have a look at these fancy red cowgirl boots up close...” The man in front of you said with a charming little smirk and with his baby blue eyes looking down at your feet, then at your legs, your body and, eventually, meeting your eyes. 

You looked him over too, with his plain white t-shirt, blue wrangler jeans, dusty work boots, scruffy beard with a few silver strands in it and a ball cap with some brown curls peeking out underneath it. Quite handsome. His little excuse to come over and talk to you was pathetic but cute, it had made you smirk a little. And when you looked into his beautiful eyes and saw that pretty smile again, you decided to give him a shot.

“Honestly… My buddies over there were givin’ me a hard time and said that I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t say something to the pretty girl in the red cowboy boots...” He gestured over to his friends in the booth in the other corner who gave you a wave and smile. You turned back to look at him, and gave yourself the luxury of eyeing him up and down again. He was definitely older than you, but not exactly old enough to be your father. He must have been in his early 40’s at most. He was sort of rugged, most likely a blue collar man. Some tattoos poked out from under the sleeve of his t-shirt. He was not the type of guy you were used to encountering in New York City. “I'm Emmett..” He smirked, and you chuckled a bit at his words.

“Hate to break the news but I borrowed these from a friend… I’m not a real country girl.” You admitted with a smile. Emmett laughed softly and leaned against the almost forgotten jukebox.

 “Well… They look good on you either way… That’s for sure…” He looked over your body once more, shameless infatuation irradiating from him. His boldness made you smile again, and admittedly, it also turned you on. Like clockwork, the first notes of the song you picked started to play and Emmett gave you an approving smile.

“Good choice… You’ve got good taste obviously… Would you like to dance, beautiful?” He asked, his voice like velvet in your ears. You felt a sweet heat rush to your cheeks and you nodded.

“I'd like that.” You smiled and he took your hand with a gentleness that was to die for, pulling you closer and wrapping his strong arms around your waist. In return, you wrapped your arms around his neck and followed him along. Butterflies flew in your stomach like they hadn’t in so long when his arms tightened around you.

You chatted a little, dancing slowly in the middle of the dive bar with his rough hands rubbing the exposed skin of your back. In the background of the slow song, you could make out the voices and giggles of your friends who must have been staring in amusement and support. 

In between the small conversations and the dance, you found out Emmett owned a farm nearby. Mostly horses and some crops. You also found out he was 39 years old. Never married, currently single. Then it came time for questions about your life, your work, your age, where were you from…

“Ahh, so you’re a city girl, makes sense… Never seen someone as hot as you around here before...” Emmett whispered, still swaying with you and still holding you tight. You blushed, something not everybody did to you, but there was something about him. His looks, his charm, his rough hands. You couldn't help yourself.

Guided by that feeling, you kept talking. Now telling him about your failed relationship, your cheater ex-boyfriend and your 8 month-long singlehood. Emmett’s brow furrowed upon hearing that.

“Fuckin’ asshole… Who would ever wanna lose you? You need a real man… Not a little immature boy..” He whispered, shaking his head gently and tightening his tattooed arm around you ever so slightly, just for the butterflies in your stomach to go even wilder. 

Your song ended and the jukebox went silent. Emmett immediately asked to buy you a drink, and how would you even say no? Next thing you knew, you were sitting on a barstool with him standing in front of you, a hand on your thigh making you swoon. He leaned over to order, the scent of his almost worn-off cologne sending more heat towards the right places.

“Two miller lites please, thanks.. ” The bartender cracked open two beers and pushed them towards Emmett. He handed you one along with a sly smile, his other hand still on your thigh.

“Well… Cheers to a good night that I'm hoping gets even better.” Emmett held his drink up to yours and clicked them together with a nice melodic sound. 

“Cheers.” You chuckled, arousal pooling in your lower abdomen and burning steady for the entire time you and Emmett talked and flirted in between sips. Some guilt crept up on you at having practically abandoned your girlfriends, but every quick glance towards them made you find them winking and putting their thumbs up. So you focused back on Emmett, laughed at his jokes, touched his arm, gave him your best smile…

“Can’t believe a pretty girl like you is interested in an old man like me.” He rubbed his hand softly on your exposed thigh, and you couldn't help but let out a sincere chuckle.

“You're hotter than any guy I've met in the city by a million honestly… A real man who works with his hands and knows what he wants and isn’t shy about it…” Every word of yours was soaked in a sensual tone and your eyes never looked away from him now. He had the most beautiful pale blue eyes you had ever seen, his pupils were long dilated from looking at you, and they seemed to get even more when he heard you talking like that.

“Well, you sure know how to flatter a guy… I’ve gotta say you’re one of the sexiest things I've ever seen.” Emmett leaned in to whisper into your ear, his lips giving you a featherlight touch. “My hands aren’t the only thing I’m good with…” His warm breath sent a satisfying shiver down your spine. “And I do know what I want… I wanna see what’s underneath this little crop top and these tiny jean shorts…” 

Your breath hitched ever so slightly, the hairs at the back of your neck stood up. His rough hand gripped the soft flesh of your thigh firmly, the sensation, along with his words, going straight to your core and now dampened panties. 

It was 12:45 am now, the clock upon the wall ticked in front of Emmett’s eyes with an eager question. 

“It's getting pretty late… Whaddya say you come home with me tonight… And I can teach you how to ride like a real cowgirl?” He whispered through a seductive smirk, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear and effectively making your clit pulse. You bit your lip, took in the pale blue of his eyes and leaned a bit closer.

“You wanna be my teacher?” You asked him, holding his gaze. Emmett nodded before taking a swig of his beer, finishing it and putting it on the bar.

“I'm sure a girl like you could teach an old dog like me a few tricks too…” 

Your smirk turned into a grin before his eyes and your wet pussy fluttered again. God, he was so smooth and beyond sexy. The kind of man you needed.

“Take me home cowboy.” You whispered, ripples of arousal traveling around your body as you watched Emmett pull out his wallet and slap a 20 dollar bill on the counter to cover for your drinks and tip, before taking your hand like a gentleman.

Your girls cheered when they saw you walking out with him, and you so graciously gave them a playful middle finger that made them laugh out loud.

Emmett held the door open for you and all the exposed parts of your body felt the cool summer breeze of the night air. Not for long though, his truck was just a few steps away, and as the gentleman he was, he opened the passenger seat door for you and helped you in. The inside was rather cozy, an air freshener hung from the rear-view mirror along with a, quite fitting, tiny cowboy hat charm. You flicked it with your finger as Emmett got in the driver’s seat. 

“Before we leave...” He started, leaning over the center console. Before you could ask him anything, his lips met yours in a hot, sensual kiss. Inevitably, your hand reached up to touch his beard, and you delighted with the taste of beer and faint mint gum in his mouth.

 “Sorry, I just had to… Couldn’t wait another minute.” He whispered against the softness of your lips, forming a smile. He sat back in his seat and started the truck up, making it roar to life. His left hand held the wheel and his right hand found his new favorite spot: your thigh. Soft rock born from his radio barely made noise as he drove you down the mostly empty country roads to his home nearby. You raised both eyebrows when an old farmhouse and several barns came into view.

“Wow… All this is yours?” You asked softly, admiring the vast space bathed in starlight.

“It is indeed, pretty girl.” Emmett smiled, pulling up next to the house and getting out of his truck, this time helping you out of it, upholding the true gentleman behavior. 

His arm wrapped around you once again, his body warmth fighting for you against the chill summer night’s breeze. You smiled when the front door opened for you and you were the first to step foot inside the cute little farmhouse. It was rather lovely, perhaps too minimally decorated but it was to be expected, he was a 40 year old man living alone. You seemed to be the most feminine thing in this house. 

“I love it… So cozy.” You leaned against the kitchen counter, attracting Emmett to you. His hands found your hips and he looked down at you with that flirtiness that made your pussy wetter. 

“You haven’t even seen the bedroom yet.” He whispered, closer and closer to you until another sensual kiss captured your lips. Your mouth gave his skillful tongue entrance and with a delicious groan he picked you up easily. Your legs wrapped around his hips and his hands supported you by holding your ass. He swallowed a moan from you and walked you both across the house, towards the stairs and into his bedroom. There, he laid you down on his big bed, his lips reluctantly leaving yours for air.

You propped yourself up to your elbows, granting him a visual feast for his eyes to devour. Your exposed midriff, your little shorts and those cute little red boots. Since your cowboy hat had been lost somewhere on the way to his bed, your hair was slightly messy, and your lips glistened from his saliva. He didn’t know where to begin with you. 

“Fuck, you’re sexy…” He admired you, reaching down to pull one of your boots off, then the other one. Both joined his wooden floor. “I need to see this perfect body naked for me…”

You giggled, his hands now occupied themselves with your jean shorts. In a couple of seconds they also met the floor.

“Would ya look at that…” Emmett let out a flirty whistle upon seeing what you hid underneath the denim: a little red thong that made his cock twitch in his jeans, another reminder of how painfully hard he was. His calloused thumb didn’t resist and ran over your clothed pussy, slowly making its way between your folds and marveling at the feeling of the damp fabric. He growled in approval. 

“Someone’s wet…” He looked into your eyes and you felt a rush of blood divide itself to reach both your cheeks and your needy cunt. You bit your lip, your body ablaze.

“Flip over for me, baby… Face down ass up.” He ordered after playing with you over your panties a little bit. You, incredibly turned on and obedient to any sexy command he could throw your way with that deep voice of his, didn’t even think about it twice.

“Yes, Sir.” You played along, flipping over for him with your ass in the air and your cheek against the duvet cover. 

“Fuuuck…” He groaned at the sight. You knew very damn well your little thong was covering absolutely nothing from behind. “I wanna make sure this little pussy is prepped for my lesson…” he said, peeling the thong off you slowly. 

Anticipation pooled at your cunt, the flimsy red fabric left your body with his help. Once you were free, Emmett palmed both your asscheeks and spread them slowly. He moaned at the sight of your glistening pussy and tight asshole, all fully waxed.

“Jesus Fuckin’ Christ…” He breathed out, feeling his heart skip a beat. “I could come just looking at you…” He whispered just inches away from your needy cunt.

You moaned softly at his words, feeling completely exposed yet so turned on. Nothing else could matter to you anymore.

“Please...” You whimpered so needily, he couldn’t resist leaning in and letting his tongue slide between your slippery folds. A guttural groan of his made your pussy reverberate, the taste of you on his tongue so addictive, so divine.

“Oh my god…” Now, you moaned. Emmett’s hot tongue licked a fat stripe from your clit all the way to your ass, flicking against it. The sensation was so good you could barely comprehend it.

“You taste like honey…” He purred to our flesh before spitting on your pussy, his saliva slowly dribbling down between your lips and making him groan in approval. Two of his fingers gathered some of that spit on them before circling your aching hole, slowly pushing inside of you from behind. 

You moaned over and over, his thick fingers pumped in and out of you in a slow but firm motion. He watched hungrily as your tight cunt took them in so easily and so greedily.

 “Fuck… Feels so good…” You spoke in between moans that only got louder when Emmett curled his fingers inside you, hitting that special spot. “Holy fuck…” 

The louder you moaned, the faster his thick fingers moved and curled. Your eager pussy had his index and middle fingers completely wet and glistening.

“That feels good, pretty girl?” He asked with a smirk. “Gotta make sure this little pussy is ready to ride my big cock…” he growled hungrily. 

“I-I’m ready… Please…” His pumping fingers had you bucking your hips in desperation and stuttering, almost out of your mind. Emmett loved every single detail about it, you looked just so beautiful when you were this horny and needy. Mercifully, he pulled his fingers out of your begging cunt and slowly brought them to his mouth, groaning at the taste of you.

“Flip over, baby.” He commanded, the sound of the zipper of his jeans making your ears perk up. You did as he said, catching the glimpse of his pants hitting the floor and his shirt being pulled over his head. He tossed it aside, the view of his toned, hairy chest and arms, along with those sexy tattoos of his made your pussy feel even more needy. Your eyes feasted on him, from his chest to his hard on in his briefs.

“I think you’re ready for your lesson…” Emmett crawled onto the bed and laid on his back, dark curls resting on his pillows. Right away, you sat on your knees, watching the way his arm flexed as he reached over to the side table and opened the drawer. Touch guided his way to a gold wrapper.

“A little help?” He smirked, looking down at his hard cock still tucked in his underwear. You smiled and nodded, your fingers hooking on the gray waistband and gently peeling the fabric down his legs. His big hard cock immediately sprung free for your eyes to devour. A throaty groan resonated from him. It was much bigger than what you had pictured, it was impossible to not stare at it in all its veiny, throbbing glory. 

Emmett ripped open the condom wrapper with his teeth, rolling the latex down his thick cock and looking up at you with a sexy smile.

“You ready to be my cowgirl?” 

Immediately, you snapped out of your trance and nodded.

“Yes, sir…” Your voice came out sweet and so lovely, his hand motioned towards him.

“C’mere, baby…” Emmett cooed and you moved to stand above him. You lowered down slowly on him until your sensitive folds felt the covered tip of his cock, making him groan a little at the friction.

“Mmm, slow baby…” He coached you in a soft voice, putting his hands on your hips and guiding you. “Sink down slowly…” And slowly you did it. His cock slid inside your tight hot ready entrance easily, with all the time in the world. You sank down further, each of your knees on either side of his thighs almost trembling at the stretch. Loud moans escaped you both in unison as you adjusted to him and he adjusted to you. You felt so full, for a second you even doubted if it all could fit, but, as if his cock was designed for your tight little cunt, he fully slid right in with ease. 

“Oh, fuck…” You breathed out, looking into his beautiful eyes through your fluttering eyelashes. “So deep…” Words came in soft whine. Soft, clingy hands supported you by touching his broad, hairy chest. Emmett smirked, a perverted gleam in his eye from watching you adjusting to his thick cock.

“You feel me in here, baby?” He whispered, voice thick and heavy with lust. One of his calloused hands moved from your hip to your lower belly, pressing into your soft flesh and creating an erotic pressure that you could only moan and nod to. You felt him so deeply, all over and inside you.

“You feel so fucking good around me…  So tight and warm. I think this pussy was made to ride my cock.” His voice was low and rough, both hands moved to your hips again, ready to begin.. 

“Now, just go with the flow and get into a good rhythm baby… I’ll help…” He coached you with a sly grin that made your cunt clench around him. He was just so sexy, and he knew and reveled in it. “Just relax and enjoy the ride…” 

After exhaling a needy breath, you started to swivel your hips a bit, riding him slowly. Emmett groaned, his eyes closed in utter pleasure. His hands stayed glued to your hips and guided the slow rhythm your rolling hips set. You both moaned. His hips moved a little under you, encouraging you more and more.

“Look at you cowgirl...” His voice was already a little breathy, his groan took over the last letters of the word “girl”. His cock throbbed inside you at the sight of your pretty tits moving under the Budweiser logo. He helped you out with that, pulling your cropped shirt off your body and hungrily taking in the view of your bare chest as you bounced on his dick.

You moaned more when the tip of his cock hit that deep spot, and the more you spent riding him and earning yourself the title of cowgirl, the more he entertained an idea. 

After a minute or two, Emmett pulled you down, making you chest to chest with him and wrapping his toned arms around you. A searing, sloppy kiss entered your mouth while his hips pistoned from beneath. Your sweet tongue melted into his before he whispered against your lips.

“Now it’s time for you to relax and I'll do all the work baby…” His hoarse voice tickled your skin and he planted his feet on the mattress, gaining the support he needed to immediately pick up the pace and pound into you relentlessly from underneath. No thoughts registered properly in your brain from that point forward, it was all just a hot, wet pool of pleasure. A series of curses left your lips with no particular order and with no respect for anything.  

“Oh-fuck… Oh my fucking god... Fuck!” You cried out into the skin of his neck, the sound of your voice mixing with his low groans and the slapping of skin.

“You fuckin like that?” He panted into your ear, his hips never stopping as you moaned non stop.

“Yes... Yes... Fuck, yes!” You cried out as his hands moved to spank your ass, hard. You almost screamed, the sting nearly sending you over the edge. It was so overwhelming, you didn’t fully realize just how close you were until that moment.

“Jesus… I think I'm gonna come…” You whimpered and his hand came down again hard on your ass, definitely leaving a red mark. Emmett held you so tight against his chest, holding you in place for his thick cock to slam into over and over.

“Come for me..” He looked right into your eyes with pure want in the blue of his irises. And as if on command… You did. 

Eyes squeezed shut so tight you saw lights, a whiny moan was born from the depths of your chest and your sweet, slick cunt clenched around him tight. Your legs couldn't stop shaking and your orgasm took over every single sense. All your being was just a giant orgasm that still could feel him pumping hard into you.

“Holy fuck..” He breathed out in awe watching and feeling you succumb to all the pleasure. 

“Good girl..” He whispered, praising you right before capturing your lips in a hot kiss. “I'm coming too..” Even in your state, you could tell. His thrust had gotten sloppier and his breathing was much heavier. He wasn't able to hold back much longer. Inside the transparent latex, you felt him pulse and fill the material with his warm cum. He groaned, his arms held you tight and kept you there until the last drop was out.

Panting like you had just ran a marathon and with hearts beating fast, you laid there chest to chest. You put your forehead against his in a sweet moment, in response, his hand rubbed your back slowly.

 “Jesus… that was...” He whispered, still a little out of breath looking right into your eyes. You couldn't help but blush and put on a shy smile. 

“...the best sex i’ve ever had…” You softly finished his sentence. 

He pulled out slowly and sat up with you still pressed against his chest. His eyes studied your face for a minute before speaking.

“I think you may be a real cowgirl after all…” There was that sly smirk once more, one that made you return the sentiment and lean in with him for one last soft kiss.

Pinterest board with our visual inspo for this fic, made by @fuckiingloser

[lostinlovingrevery]

Girls Just Want To Have Fun

Weapon X/Logan Howlett X F! Reader

You're just a girl in your own world

A/N: This is the most vile and weirdest thing I've ever written.

Warnngs: TW: NONCON/CNC elements! SMUT, MDNI, reader is 21+, also reader is a bit unhinged and bratty and a bit delusional lol, unprotected PiV, multi creampies, Oral (M and F! recieving) rough sex, choking, stalkerish vibes, biting, mention of blood, feral logan, weapon x logan, mentions of mutant politics, Van attempting to write an 80's vibe, includes Cyndi Laupers song Girls Just Wanna Have Fun (teehee), a tad bit dark humor

“I KNOW! She is such a bitch!” 

Posters filled with scantily clad pop idols and glammed-up rock bands covered the walls, with hints of vintage floral wallpaper spotting through. You sat in a messy bedroom, with a floor covered in clothes, cropped tops and ripped jeans, a bra hanging off a half-open dresser drawer. A pair of pink and blue rollerblades hang off the back of the cream-colored bedroom door. Stacks of movies sat on a tv, movies such as Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th, and Halloween. 

“And she has the nerve to ask me if I was serious about college? Like, homegirl, I’ll switch my major again if you don’t stop judging me, so I don’t have to deal with your constipated wrinkly ass.” 

You admired your nails, as you finished putting on a fresh glossy coat of neon pink over them.. You were lying in bed, on your belly and lazily kicking your legs behind you, a corded yellow phone up to your ear, supported by your shoulder. You heard your best friend yap about her own college counselor, who was some old perverted man who carried some very old-fashioned ideals about women in education. 

Bright pink bubblegum bubbles pop against your lips, as you continue chewing, smacking your lips loudly before blowing another bubble, and popping it again loudly. Raucous laughter escapes you as you hear your friend tell a hilarious joke.

Outside in the dark. A tall looming figure stood behind a tree. A cold wind blows as leaves scattered across the ground. 

You sat up on your bed, sitting cross-legged, as you reached to your nightstand for your can of cherry Coke and sipped loudly, smearing your red lipstick over the aluminum. You giggled again at another joke. 

“You’re so bad Mary-Ann!” You laugh, you look over at the tall mirror leaning on the wall, leaning forward and fixing your lipstick with your middle finger, and popping your lips together. Admiring the blue and purple eyeshadow, and cat-claw eyeliner you tried on. You also recently got a perm, and love the way your curls popped out your features.

You and Mary-Ann went shopping today. You bought TONS of new clothes, some new makeup. Even decided to try out some Wet n Wild waterproof eyeliner. So far, it’s held up great - especially because Mary-Ann hasn’t stopped with her so-funny jokes. You were laughing so hard you were tearing up.

“Shut up! Oh my god.” You threw your head back, standing up from your bed. The phone cord follows you across the room, stretching over your mattress as you set your nail polish back in the messy jewelry box on your desk. “Oh, by the way, did you see Van Halen on MTV? It was SO cool!” 

The looming figure stands watching. His eyes searching the front of the house- minuscule details he’s observing. He picks up movement in one window- lit up bright on the top floor. He sees a woman with hair that curls down her shoulders walk by, her figure made a shadow by the warm lighting inside. He tracks her movements. 

“Van Halen, Yeah!" I want to get their album.” You say as you mess with your jewelry box, a poor attempt to organize it. You scoff at the tangled mess of your necklaces and push the lid of the box down, turning back to examine the rest of your room lazily as you listen to Mary-Ann ramble about Madonna. You liked her, but not as much as Cyndi Lauper. Now that was a real idol for you. She understood you. 

You pushed your curtain aside, looking out into the dark expanse of your yard. For a moment, you thought you saw something shift by the old Oak tree. A small chill ran up your spine as you felt like there were eyes on you… Then Mary-Ann mentions something that made you remember Bobby Wilkins and your earlier conversation with him on the phone.

“Oh! Before I forget, guess who asked me out again?...” You turned away, forgetting the momentary creeps you felt, as you dropped your curtain. Not noticing the figure appearing beside the tree again. 

You bite your tongue, as you wait for Mary-Ann to guess, and when she says the name, you scream and jump. “Yes!” You giggle. “Out of ALL the men I’ve been with, he actually seems to know what he’s doing too. He lasted a whole song, can you believe that? I think he may make things official too, finally.”

Mary-Ann giggled over the line, and before you could continue, you heard beeping. You glanced at the radio clock with white blocky numbers that sat on your bedside table and rolled your eyes. “Mary-Ann? I gotta go, the parents are calling.” You scoffed. Mary-Ann bids you goodbye and good luck, you make a kissing noise to the receiver, before ending her call and answering the next. 

A small shuffle through the leaves. A cricket chirps nearby, suddenly falling silent as bare feet walk through the dewy grass, wet from an earlier rain storm. A wooden gate with a metal padlock sat in the quiet darkness. A sharp snikt! 

The padlock falls into the grass, impossibly cut in half.

“Hello?” You tilted your hips with a hand placed on them, annoyance on your face.

“Hello darling, me and your father are just doing our check-in. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, Mom.” Your tone, a tad condescending, rolls your eyes as you walk around your messy room. Kicking clothes to the side, fiddling with the ear of an old stuffed bunny that you’ve had since childhood, made by your dear departed grandmother when you were born. 

“Did you finish your coursework?”

“I didn’t have any.” 

“Now I find that a little hard to believe dear.”

“Are you really calling me a liar?” You scoffed. 

“No, I-” 

You heard the sound of your father talking, his stern voice demanding your mother hand him the phone. You heard his angry breath as she obliged. 

“Hi, Daddy.” You purse your lips as you prepare for yet another mind-numbing lecture. 

“Darling, you need to start taking your education seriously! I’m paying for your college. That is something most children don’t get the luxury of! You are 22 years old, it is time to start building your life! Time to take on some responsibility!”

You walked back to the mirror hanging on the wall, rolling your eyes as you listened to your father lecture you about responsibility and your future, and blah, blah, blah.

Bor-ing!

“Do you not care about the work me and your mother put in raising you!”

“Daddy, take a chill pill,” You scoffed, nearly a whine. “I love you and mom, but sometimes girls just want to have fun? Y’know?” You smiled, twirling your hair. 

You heard an exasperated sigh. A twinge of guilt tugged at your heart. It’s not that you don’t want to have an education or responsibilities. You just spent your whole life being prim and proper for your father, the politician! You just simply wanted to party a little, and have some wild memories to look back on before you become stuffy and serious like your old man…

The back door slides open slowly. The family dog, a German Shepard lifts his head from his bed, curiously watching the intruder as he silently crosses the room, pitched in black. The tall, muscular man, dressed in shadows, stared down at Shepard as if observing the pooch as well. 

The intruder tilted his head, as he listened to the voice coming from the stairwell, a faint glow of light bleeding down the stairwell. He turns and walks towards it. The dog goes back to his resting state, seemingly unaffected by the animal that has come into his house. 

“Well, me and your mother will be home Thursday. You’ll be fine till then, correct?”

“Duh.” You scoffed. You smacked your lips, “Did the conference go okay?”

“No, unfortunately. Seems I’m the only one to support those poor people.” 

“I’m sure there’s someone out there who supports me daddy, maybe you need to look for them. Not everyone is as outspoken as you.” You say, in some attempt to support your father. “If not, at least you’ll be the first.”

“Thanks dear…. Don’t have too much fun, understand?”

“Yeah yeah. Bye dad. Tell mom bye.” You ended the call.

What a bummer!

You walked across the room, shedding articles of your clothes off. Your white crop-top, and your light blue bellbottoms, discarding them on the floor among your mess of clothes. Leaving in a matching pink panty set and socks. You grabbed your walkman and pulled the headphones over the curls of your hair. 

You mess with the player, rewinding to get back to the first song. You and Mary-Ann made a bunch of cassette tapes of your favorite songs. Took forever, but so worth it. 

Pressing play, you listened to the cheerful synthetic beat synth and a grin appeared across your face. 

I come home in the morning light

my mother says when you gonna live your life right

oh mother dear we're not the fortunate ones

and girls they want to have fun

oh girls just want to have fun

You clipped the walkman onto your french-cut panties, and began to rock your hips back and forth to the beat of the song.

The phone rings in the middle of the night

my father yells what you gonna do with your life

A flip of hair back and forth, curls bouncing and falling over your shoulders

oh daddy dear you know you're still number one

but girls they want to have fun

oh girls just want to have

Some fun

Wanna have

You brought your arms up, as you closed your eyes and began mouthing to the words, swinging your hips in a flamboyant manner that matches the song. 

Girls, they want, wanna have fun

Girls, wanna have

You rolled your head, eyes still closed,

That's all they really want

some fun

when the working day is done

you know girls, they want to have fun

You danced around the room, kicking clothes in the air, not a care in the world. The upbeat synth filled your core, excitement buzzing through you-

Some boys take a beautiful girl

and hide her away from the rest of the world

I want to be the one to walk in the sun…

Oh, girls, they wanna have fun

Oh, girls just wanna have

A spin, your curls flying

That's all they really want

some fun

when the working day is done

you know girls, they want to have fun

Oh, girls just wanna have fun

You mimicked dance moves you’ve watched on MTV, a few steps forward, a shimmy of your shoulders. God, you must look so hot right now!

You opened your eyes, looking in the mirror in front of you, admiring the way your body looked,

When your heart dropped. 

You almost didn’t notice it at first.

Him

A shadow, standing in the darkness of your hallway, right outside the doorway. A tall, dark, looming figure whose whites of his eyes you could barely make out- staring right at you. 

You slowly turned around, your lips parted, your heart frozen, and your blood cold.

Girls, they want, wanna have fun

Girls wanna have

The song continues playing, blaring in your ears- making you think your heart did physically stop because you couldn’t even hear your heartbeat. You stare at the figure, eyes wide, he was nearly as tall as your doorway! 

He took a step forward into the light of your room, barely lit by your lamp. You audibly gasped. 

A beastly, muscular man. He wore some type of metal helmet on his head, cage-like in appearance- very gnarly. Brown, scraggly grown-out hair down to his shoulders, a thick, ungroomed beard. His eyes narrow and focus on you. Nostrils flaring with each breath, a mean scowl that should scare you. Except it didn’t.

Your eyes trailed over the muscular body, you have never seen a man look so…Tasty before. Hair, strong, tense arms, you could make out each vein, flexed against his skin. His toned stomach tensed and flexing with each breath. A hairy trail that led down to…

You gasped, your lips parted in an O shape. 

Wow! He’s…..

Huge!

Now, you haven’t seen a lot of penises in your 22 years of living, having only lost your virginity on your 18th birthday (a major disappointment)  and only gathered a body count of just 4 guys (each a step up from the last!), and you did see some dicks in a dirty mag that you and Mary-Ann giggle over in the bookstore. None of them looked like his though. 

You bit your lip and looked up at the strange, feral man. 

“So uh..What’s your name?” You ask, tipping your chin up, attempting to straighten your shoulders. “Got a reason to be in my house?” 

A snarl on his face, as he stepped forward. 

It happened so fast. 

You didn’t even know what hit you, literally.

One moment, you’re dancing to your favorite song in your underwear - the next, a strange naked man with an absolutely bodacious body tackles you! 

There was an initial struggle. Your mirror got knocked over, and your lamp fell to the floor, distorting the light of your bedroom. Blankets pulled off your mattress, your jewelry box fell to the floor in a loud clatter as tangled necklaces and bracelets scattered. Your prized walkman was safely discarded in the pile of laundry.

Legs pushed up in the air, and you let out a loud gasp. 

The man's face pressed to your cloth pussy- as he takes a deep inhale, his nose digging into the space where your clit was located. He let out a strangled groan, before taking another inhale, and you felt yourself grow wet from the sound. 

Bobby Wilkins never smelled you like that!

The man sat up, his hands grabbing the cloth that covered your mound, and ripped it off you with ease- making you yelp. I spent money on that!

His teeth gritted, his nostrils flaring, he looked up at you, before reaching out and ripping your bra off too - for good measure, apparently. Your tits jiggled from the harsh movement, his eyes watching them, as you attempted to push yourself up.

His hand pushed you harshly back to the ground, as he returned to his previous task. A small grunt escaped him as he pressed his nose to your pussy again, another deep breath and a deep moan that sounded human came out of him. Wasting no time, he buried his face into your pussy, his tongue lapping you up. 

“Oh!” You squeaked, your hands grabbing onto the cage-like helmet on his head, gripping it to anchor yourself. You felt his tongue dip into your hole, and gasped, eyes squeezing shut from the stimulating pleasure that was brought on to you. “Oh my God-” you whined, “You’re SO much better than Bobby Wilkins!” 

You arched your back, spreading your legs wider as you thrust your hips against him. An angry grunt escaped him from your squirming, as he grabbed the back of your knees, pushing them down to your sides, rendering you barely able to move as he planted his face back into your pussy, his tongue lapping into you hungrily, his long beard scratching your inner thighs.

You moaned the position you were forced into helplessly. The pleasure of the wild man's tongue made you not even consider how terrible of a situation this is. For you, you were just getting the best head of your life.

A fiery feeling built in your lower stomach. Your toes curled, rhythmic pleasure erupting through you, as you felt yourself tightening over his tongue. A loud cry escaped you as you threw your head back, your legs shaking and trembling from the overwhelming sensation. 

Is that what an orgasm feels like?!

Despite your past relationships, and assuming you did have an orgasm before, your world was now turned upside down. Or actually- right side up.

That was the most orgasm you ever had. 

Your legs went limp, falling to the ground as the man sat up. He grabbed you by the neck, pulling you up from the ground, teeth bared, his face and beard soaked with your wetness, he threw you onto the bed on your stomach. You pant to catch your breath, the high of cumming so hard you saw stars slowly coming down. 

You didn’t have time though, as you felt the man's legs bumping into yours, and before you knew it, his cock pressed into your hole. 

“Oh!” You gasped as you felt him push the tip in roughly before his entire member stretched you open. “Oh, my-” You let out a purr, body slumping into the mattress. You bit your lip, hiding the smile that grew across your face. Wait till Mary-Ann hears about this!

He thrusts inside you in one quick movement, setting your senses on fire as you lurched forward on the bed from the force. His hips flushed against your ass. Your legs shook from the nearly painful intrusion - but you loved it.

You always loved the tall, dark, mysterious men. Fantasies of dark strange men coming into your room just as he had. Mary-Ann thinks it's from the fucked up horror movies you've watched. You think it's because you're a romantic.

His hand came up and grabbed your curls in a fist, pulling your head back harshly as he pulled out to the tip, and slammed back into you. Your hands gripped the sheets, mouth hanging open as he began a brutal and rough pace, slamming his cock into your pussy over and over.

How radical!

His hand came down, pushing into your lower back and holding you in place. His lips curled into a snarl, his hand yanking your hair back harder- making you yelp, turning into a moan. 

For the first time in your life - You’re rendered speechless.

His pace never faltered, you felt that familiar tightening in your lower belly, as your hand reached around to grab his wrist, nails digging into his skin.

He let out a loud shout, as he slammed into you, deep inside, and you felt a warmness filling you up. He didn’t let go of his hold on your hair, panting as ropes and ropes of his cum filled you to the brim, slowly leaking out what could not fit. 

He pulled out, letting go of your body and stepping back from you, his cock hanging limply between his legs as he opened and closed his fists, staring down at your shivering form. A twitch of his dick, and slowly he became hard again. 

You caught your breath, your body shivering from the intensity of his cock slamming into you. A small disappointment rushed through you - you didn’t reach the second orgasm before he finished, but you felt on cloud 9 anyway. What this was, felt so much better than even smoking grass. 

“That was so-”

A yelp escaped you as he grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your back, pushing you further up on your messy bed, he clambered over you. You watched his hard erect cock bouncing in shock. 

I didn’t know they could do that!

The boys you’ve been with, last only 2-3 minutes top, and can’t do anything else after. This wasn’t a boy though, this…this was a man. 

He’s a little weird. You’ll take him over Bobby Wilkins though, any day!

Your legs were pushed back to your shoulders, his hands a tight grip around your ankles as pinned you down. His cock ran through your messy folds, his cum leaking out of you. He angled himself, slamming back inside you, a sickly wet noise heard through the room, making you embarrassed at the sounds coming from you.

As if he doesn’t notice anything other than how good your tight pussy feels.

He resumed a brutal pace into you- except this position felt so much better. His cock hitting that spot inside you that you thought was a myth!

He was grunting, staring down where he was rutting into you, his hips flushed against yours as he buried every inch of himself inside you. A small whine escaped his lips as he tipped his head back, panting over how good you felt. 

When he smelled you, the moment he walked into the house- everything else was forgotten. His orders to kill a man deemed a threat, who is supposed to be in this house. All he could smell though, was you. It drove him feral, the need to claim you, breed you. 

Then he saw you, dancing, carefree, happy.

It triggered something in him. A realization that he wasn’t free. 

His mind was fuzzy a lot of the time. His brain was filled with orders on what to do, how to do it. Torture and pain were all he knew. Occasionally, he can break free from the brainwashing, from being a mindless animal - able to fight back just for a bit until they torture him again until he can do nothing but comply. 

What he was doing to you, was a mix of both instinct and desire. A desire for control, of doing what he wanted. 

When you didn’t recoil from his presence when he didn’t smell the fear from you. He took it as permission. 

His hands came around your throat, fucking you faster in an inhuman pace. Your legs perched on his shoulders. A loud, repeated smacking sound filled the room. 

You looked up at the feral man, and for a moment you saw a flash of humanity in his eyes. Pretty eyes, never seen a boy with such pretty eyes, you couldn’t help but think to yourself. His hands wrapped around your throat, choking you only slightly- but not enough that he told you he was aware. 

Your eyes trailed down to the dog tags dangling around his neck. You could barely read them, only seeing a flash of the name; Wolverine

What kind of name is that?

Your thoughts go blank, as he angle himself and fucked up into you, and that building feeling in your lower belly snapped once more- waves and waves of the ecstasy earlier- only much stronger this time flooded through you, as your body tensed, your back arching and your mouth opened in an O shape as you cried out. 

Tears flooded your eyes, streaming down your cheeks as you were pushed into overstimulation. Electric shot up your spine with each thrust, your hips thrusting up into his with each of his sharp thrusts, slowly melting back into something honey-like as his cock pounded into you.

His hands removed from your neck, moving down to your hips, gripping them so tight- his nails digging into your skin painfully, but only spurred you on. 

Your hands fisted the sheets, as you tilted your head to the side, and he saw his chance. Leaning down, he bit into the crook of your neck, his canines piercing your skin and drawing blood. The taste of iron on his tongue, as he began to moan, eyes rolling back as he clamped down on you, rutting into you and filling you up with his cum for a second time. 

The cold metal of the helmet around his head pressed into your flushed cheeks as he buried his face into your neck - and you wondered why he was wearing something so strange - and so grody!

You heard the sound of cloth ripping - but your ears were ringing too loud for you to confirm what it was.

His cock twitched inside you, releasing the last bits of his cum. He laid over the top of you for longer this time, and you caught your breath- wondering what was next. Your body was humming in pleasure, and carefully you brought your hands up to his arms. Sweat clung to his skin, his muscles hard and tense, flinching at the touch of your hands. 

He lifted his head up, looking at the mark he’d left on your neck. His eyes turned to you, staring down at you in a possessive way. He leaned down to your ear, a deep grumble escaping him as he spoke for the first time. 

“You’re mine.” 

It sent chills down your body, and your pussy tightened around him at the words. 

Wow!

He sure does know how to sweet talk!

“How much money do you make?” You ask, voice raspy. “A girl's gotta make sure she’s taken care of first.”

He stared down at you, and you’re not sure if it was bewilderment or anger on his expression. He roughly stood up, pulling out of you as your limbs feel weakly against the mattress. He grabbed your ankles, pulling you off the mattress and onto the floor, pulling you up onto your knees. You gasped, exhaustion screaming at you, but moaning when he grabbed and fisted your hair again. 

“It’s not a dealbreaker but-” 

You were interrupted as he shoved his cock into your mouth. Your eyes rolled back, gagging as his cock hit the back of your throat. A grunt escaped him, and he fisted both hands into your hair, as he began to face-fuck you. 

He was not nearly done with you.

When you woke up, you were in your bedroom, sprawled across the floor- completely ruined. 

Your muscles were on fire, and your throat hurt terribly, you could barely feel your legs. You glanced around the room, searching for the man, for Wolverine. 

Figures he leaves without a note.

Using what little strength you had left- you pushed yourself up to your feet, using the wall to balance you as you walked across the hall to the bathroom, flipping on the cold light.

You looked at your ruined self in the mirror. Your makeup was smeared over your face, mascara ran down your tear-stained face, small bruises lined your neck and collarbone, and you softly touched the spot where you could see the imprints of the man - Wolverine - teeth, scabbed over. You softly brushed your fingers over it, lips parted as a small breath escaped you. 

You stared at the mark, before looking back at your face in the mirror. A wild grin grew on your face, and you nodded slowly biting your lip.

Bitchin!

10 Years Later

“Logan, don’t forget, we have a visitor coming today, I may need your assistance to keep her busy until I can talk to her,” Charles calls out as Logan begins to leave the room. Logan stopped, quaking a brow.

“Who?”

“She’s the woman I told you about. Running for governor in New York. Her father was an old friend of mine.”

“Politician? No thanks.” Logan shook his head. Xavier rolls his eyes. “I only put up with Hank because he’s earned it. The rest of them can stuff it.” 

“You would have liked them. Her father was the only member of Congress to openly speak out about issues regarding the silent war between mutants and non-mutants. He was the only non-mutant supporter for years. We owe it a lot to him for opening the conversation and not backing down, and his daughter has followed greatly in his footsteps.” 

Logan crossed his arms. “It doesn't matter. These people become corrupt anyway.”

Charles sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Just, give her a tour of the place. All I need you to do. She should be here soon.”

Logan flares his nostrils, “Fine.” He turned and left the room, an aura of pissiness following him and Charles shook his head. 

“Always so rebellious…” He mutters under his breath. 

Logan stepped outside to the front of the mansion, and that's when he saw a car pulled up. At first, he didn’t think it was the woman Charles had talked about. It was a nice car, but not something a governor would drive, they typically had security with them anyway.

He watched, with his arms crossed as it parked, and the driver's side door opened. The chorus of Cyndi Laupers “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” flowing out of the car, before it was shut off.

That’s when you stepped out.

Dressed in a black pin-stripe suit, a pencil skirt that stopped above your knees, red heels to match your lipstick. Your hair is pulled up into a clean, professional bun. Gold hoop earrings accented your features, and a necklace with an X pendant was hanging from your neck

You were chewing gum as you surveyed the estate. 

Pretty place, it reminds you of your childhood home.

You grabbed your bag from the car, pushed the door closed, and walked over to the walkway that led to the front of the mansion, your heels clacked against the concrete and you reached the steps- looking up and seeing the man standing before you, watching you with a frown and a quirk of his brow. 

Your red-painted lips grew into a grin, as you slowly walked up the steps, not looking away from the handsome man staring down at you with that all to familiar scowl.

“Well, hello again.” You greeted once you reached the top step. 

Logan blinked in confusion. His brows creased together. “Excuse me?” He shook his head, as his eyes trailed over your body. You did look a tad familiar. He just couldn’t place you. 

“It’s been a long time, Wolverine.” 

You eyed him like a predator, but your smile screamed friendliness. Your eyes darted down, your hand reaching for the tags that rested around his neck. He stared at you incredously. 

“Though, I’m glad to see you’re in a much better state than when we last met.” 

“What?” He shook his head. You hummed at his confusion. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not offended you don’t remember me. I read your files.” You say, a click of your tongue and a shake of your head. “It’s been a long time and you’ve been through a lot.” You tilted your head, your eyes looking sympathetically at him. 

“Ah you arrived dear.” Charles voice snapped your attention from Logan. You smiled warmly. 

“Hello professor.” You greet him as he was in the doorway. “I was just saying hello to Mr. Howlett.” 

Charles smiled, his eyes darting between you both, and a moment of confusion appeared on his face. “Yes, Logan was so kind to offer to give you a tour of the mansion when you arrived, but my schedule opened up. Would you like to come with me?”

“I would absolutely love to professor.” You beamed. You looked back at Logan, who still held a look of bewilderment. You stepped forward and leaned into his ear, “By the way, I’m still yours.” You whispered. 

He turned to look at you, surprise on his face and you winked, before turning to head inside, taking Charles hand. Logan watched you with wide eyes and parted lips until you both disappeared around the corner. 

Faint memories played in his head, memories from a time he rather not remember - but you, with your red lipstick - 

Oh fuck

He took a step to the doorway, shock coursing through him. Then confusion, bewilderment, perplexed.

Then, he felt a twitch of his cock in his denim. 

[buldakcorn]

[IMYJ-1111] Heroine in Grave Danger! The Fall of Sailor Pluto

LOONA/LOOSSEMBLE Yeojin x Monsters

Genre : (TW) Dubcon, JAV-inspired, Superheroine, Electrocution, Mindbreak, Sweaty Sex, Gangbang, Monster Cock, Overstimulation, Triple Penetration,

9141 words

As dawn broke over the bustling metropolis, the usual hum of activity began to resonate through the concrete jungle. The neon lights that had once cast a vibrant glow over the city streets gradually dimmed, making way for the early morning sun. In a modest apartment nestled between towering skyscrapers, Im Yeojin stirred from her sleep. Her night had been anything but ordinary—as Sailor Pluto, she had single-handedly thwarted a heinous plan to steal the city's time itself.

The criminals, a mysterious group known only as the Time Snatchers, had sought to plunge the world into an eternal nightmare of stagnation and chaos. With her trusty Garnet Rod and her unyielding sense of duty, she had sent them reeling into the depths of oblivion, restoring the flow of time and granting the city's inhabitants another chance at a brighter future.

But as Yeojin stretched and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she was keenly aware that she had to juggle two very different lives. In just a few hours, she would transform from the guardian of the underworld to a mild-mannered office worker. She had to keep her secret identity under wraps, ensuring that her colleagues never suspected that their punctual and diligent coworker was the very heroine who had saved them from the clutches of temporal despair.

The delicate balance between her two worlds was a constant challenge, one she faced with the same determination she brought to her battles as Sailor Pluto. With a deep breath, she donned her business attire and set off to conquer the day ahead, her secret identity nestled safely beneath her square glasses and the surface of her mundane existence. Little did the city know that their salvation was just a coffee break away.

The office buzzed to life as the clock struck 9, and Yeojin, still half in her Sailor Pluto mindset, found herself lost in the sea of paperwork on her desk.

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted when her coworker, flicked on the small TV mounted in the corner of their shared office space. The news blared to life, displaying scenes of panic and chaos at the city square.

Her heart skipped a beat as the newscaster reported a brazen attack by a monstrous creature and its goon squad, leaving a wake of destruction in their path. The mood in the room grew tense as the images of terrified citizens flashed across the screen. Yeojin's eyes widened with recognition—this was no ordinary street brawl.

She knew all too well the eerie aura that clung to the monsters she battled as Sailor Pluto. The Time Snatchers had returned, and it was clear they had not abandoned their nefarious goals. With a silent vow to protect her city once again, Yeojin felt the transformation stirring within her.

Yeojin's pulse quickened as she excused herself from her colleagues, her mind racing with the gravity of the situation. She swiftly made her way to the rooftop of the office building, the solace of the early morning air offering a brief reprieve from the tension building within her. Gripping her Garnet Rod tightly, she recited the sacred incantation that would empower her transformation. A burst of light enveloped her, and as it faded, she stood tall in her Sailor Pluto uniform—a stark contrast to the dull office attire she had worn just moments before.

The blue crop top and skirt fluttered in the gentle breeze, her knee-high socks adorned with the symbol of Pluto's power, and her brunette hair now adorned with a fiery red bow. She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her duty press upon her once more. With a graceful leap, she cast aside her glasses, and as they tumbled to the rooftop, so too did the last vestiges of her civilian identity. Her eyes, now a piercing shade of blue, surveyed the chaotic scene unfolding below.

Time had once again been disrupted, and she was the only one who could set it right. With a powerful beat of her heart, she launched herself into the sky, her transformation complete. Sailor Pluto was on her way to face the Time Snatchers.

Sailor Pluto descended upon the city square with the force of a meteor, her arrival shaking the very foundation of the concrete playground the Time Snatchers had claimed as their battleground. As she hit the pavement, her fist connected with a tremendous thud, sending a shockwave that toppled the nearby goons like bowling pins. The monstrous creature and its minions, caught off guard by her sudden appearance, paused in their destruction to gaze upon the new threat.

Yeojin felt the power of Pluto surge through her veins, her eyes narrowing with the unyielding determination to protect her city. Rising to her full height, she called upon the ancient guardian within, her voice echoing through the square as she announced her intentions,

"I am Sailor Pluto, protector of the underworld and the keeper of time! I shall not let you desecrate the flow of time any further!" The creature snarled, its eyes flashing with malice, as the battle for the city's future was about to commence anew.

The monstrous leader of the Time Snatchers, a creature that stood a towering ten feet tall with a grotesque grin, sneered at Sailor Pluto's declaration. "A mere mortal dares to stand before us?" it bellowed, its deep, echoing voice laced with amusement. It gestured to its minions, who cackled in agreement, pointing at her diminutive form.

Yeojin, despite her smaller stature, remained unfazed. She knew all too well that true power did not stem from size but from the unyielding spirit that resided within her. With a grace that belied her compact frame, she raised her Garnet Rod high, its gem pulsing with an eerie light that seemed to resonate with the very fabric of time itself. Her eyes gleamed with a fierce resolve that sent a shiver down the creature's spine, hinting at the formidable force she was about to unleash.

The monster's overconfidence was about to be its undoing, as Sailor Pluto, the guardian of the temporal realm, was more than prepared to teach it a lesson it would never forget.

"My goons, attack!"

The goons, emboldened by their leader's command, charged at Sailor Pluto like a horde of maddened bulls. She deftly dodged their clumsy advances, her movements swift and precise. Each evasion was a dance with fate, every step calculated to bring her closer to the monstrous leader. The creature watched with growing irritation as its minions were sent flying with a graceful twirl of her Garnet Rod. The air around her grew thick with anticipation as she gathered her power, the very essence of time bending to her will.

In a flash of bluish-white light, she unleashed a powerful blast, "Chronos Typhoon!" The goons were sent spiraling into the sky, their shrieks piercing the air as they were dispersed like leaves in a tornado. The creature, caught off guard by her sudden display of strength, took a step back. Its smug grin had vanished, replaced by a snarl of fury. It knew then that it had underestimated her. The battle was far from over, but the Time Snatchers had just caught a glimpse of the true power of Sailor Pluto—a power that would not be so easily dismissed.

The creature grew in size, its eyes burning with a dark, malevolent energy. The ground trembled as it raised its arms, ready to unleash an attack of its own. Sailor Pluto's grip on her Garnet Rod tightened, her stance unyielding. She was ready to face whatever horrors this being had in store, her eyes never leaving the monstrous visage that now loomed over her. The fate of the city hung in the balance, and she was the only one standing between the Time Snatchers and their ultimate goal.

The creature's attack came swiftly, a black tendril of shadowy energy that threatened to swallow her whole. But Sailor Pluto was not one to back down. With a swift pivot, she sliced through the tendril with her Garnet Rod, the energy dissipating into a shower of sparks. The creature roared in anger, its true form momentarily revealed—a twisted amalgamation of time and darkness.

Yeojin felt a surge of adrenaline as she recognized the true enemy she faced—Chronos, the god of time itself, an enemy she once fought, corrupted by an unknown force. This was no ordinary fight; she was battling the very fabric of time that she was sworn to protect. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on her shoulders, but she pushed aside her fear. This was her duty, and she would not fail.

With renewed vigor, Sailor Pluto leaped into the fray, her crimson bow fluttering like a banner of defiance. Her eyes never left Chronos's, a silent promise that she would not rest until time itself was restored to order. The battle raged on, a spectacle of light and shadow playing out in the heart of the city as the fate of everyone she knew and loved hung precariously in the balance.

Chronos, the corrupted god of time, took a malicious delight in the moment, its dark eyes glinting with victory as it shot forth a beam of condensed temporal energy. Sailor Pluto, ever the agile warrior, attempted to dodge the attack with a graceful leap.

But the beam, as if it had a mind of its own, curved and struck her squarely in the crotch. The Chronos's sadistic laughter filled the square as Sailor Pluto crumpled to the ground, the searing pain in her crotch causing stars to dance before her eyes.

A defeated goon, witnessing her momentary vulnerability, took the opportunity to scuttle away, his mission a failure but his survival instincts sharp as ever.

Her breaths came in ragged gasps, and for a moment, Yeojin felt the weight of her dual lives threaten to crush her. But she knew she could not let this be the end. Drawing upon the deep reservoir of strength that had carried her through countless battles, she pushed herself back to her feet, gritting her teeth against the pain. Her uniform clung to her body, slightly singed from the attack, but she was not broken—not yet.

Summoning the last of her strength, Sailor Pluto stood tall, her eyes blazing with the indomitable spirit of Pluto. With a battle cry that seemed to shake the very air, she raised her Garnet Rod and pointed it at the monstrous Chronos, the gem at its tip pulsing with a fiery light. The creature, surprised by her resilience, took a step back, its grin faltering. Yeojin knew this was her moment—her chance to reclaim the city's future. She whispered the words of her ultimate technique, "Dead Scream!"

The power of the attack was palpable, a sonic boom that sent shockwaves through the city. The beam of light shot forth from her Garnet Rod, a scream that seemed to rip through the fabric of time itself. Chronos bellowed in agony as the light engulfed it, the corruption writhing within it struggling to resist the purifying force of Pluto's power. The creature's body began to break apart, its form disintegrating into a maelstrom of shadow and time. With a final, desperate roar, Chronos was vanquished, the stolen moments of the city's time released in a burst of dazzling light that showered down like confetti upon the relieved citizens below.

As the dust settled and the square returned to a semblance of order, Sailor Pluto's form began to flicker. The strain of the battle had taken its toll, and she knew she had to retreat to the shadows once more. With a final glance at the scene of victory, she transformed back into Yeojin, her office attire reappearing as if by magic. She gathered her things and slipped away, her heart pounding with a mix of exhaustion and triumph. Her secret remained safe, her mission accomplished—for now.

///

In the bowels of the Time Snatchers' hidden lair, the shadowy figure known only as the Grand Maestro of Temporal Chaos seethed with rage. His screens flickered with the images of his monstrous creations being decimated by the pint-sized yet mighty Sailor Pluto.

"How could this be?" he roared, slamming his fist onto the control panel before him. His perfectly manicured nails left dents in the cold metal as he watched his meticulously laid plans crumble to dust. He had underestimated the girl with the crimson bow, and now his dream of controlling the flow of time lay in tatters. He vowed, his voice a sinister whisper, that he would not rest until he had uncovered the source of her power and claimed it for his own. The game was far from over, and Sailor Pluto had just earned herself an even more dangerous enemy.

The goon that had escaped the battlefield, nursing its bruised ego and a newfound respect for the pint-sized heroine, managed to limp its way back to the Time Snatchers' lair. It stumbled into the Grand Maestro's chamber, its breath ragged and eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Maestro," it rasped, "I have observed a weakness in our adversary, Sailor Pluto. She is not invincible!"

The Grand Maestro's eyes lit up with interest, his rage momentarily abating.

"Tell me," he hissed, his tone a mix of anticipation and malice.

The goon, eager to regain its master's favor, revealed what it had witnessed during the battle.

"Her crotch, my lord. It seems to be a... a... sensitive spot. When struck, she is momentarily incapacitated!"

The Grand Maestro's smile grew cold and calculating.

"Ah, so the keeper of time has a temporal Achilles' heel," he mused, stroking his chin.

"Very well, this knowledge shall not go to waste. Prepare my newest creation, one that will exploit this weakness and bring Sailor Pluto to her knees!"

With a renewed sense of purpose, the goon scurried away, eager to be part of the plot that would spell the heroine's downfall. The Grand Maestro's mind raced, already crafting the perfect monster to dethrone the guardian of time.

///

As Yeojin returned to her office, blending into the sea of cubicles, she remained blissfully unaware of the new peril lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike when she least expected it.

///

In the coming days, Sailor Pluto threw herself into the fray with unyielding determination. Each new monstrosity spawned by the Grand Maestro of Temporal Chaos was met with swift and decisive retribution. Yeojin's nights grew longer as she tirelessly patrolled the city, her Garnet Rod a constant reminder of the power she wielded and the responsibility it entailed. Despite the relentless onslaught, she emerged victorious time and time again, her spirit never faltering. Each battle was a testament to her unwavering dedication to her duty, a dance of light and shadow that she performed with the grace of a warrior and the heart of a guardian.

As Yeojin settled into her office chair, sipping on the lukewarm coffee that had become the lifeblood of her mundane workday, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. The air in the city felt charged with an energy she hadn't sensed before—a sinister presence that seemed to coil around the very fabric of time itself. Her intuition, sharpened by countless battles, told her that the Time Snatchers had cooked up a new, more terrifying plot. That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, she felt the now-familiar transformation stir within her. Sailor Pluto's iconic outfit materialized around her, and she set off to face whatever horrors awaited.

The city streets grew darker as she approached the designated battleground, the Grand Maestro's latest monstrosity already causing havoc. This creature was unlike any she had faced before—its body a writhing mass of wet, eel-like tentacles that crackled with electricity, leaving trails of sizzling asphalt in its wake. The creature's eyes gleamed with a sickening intelligence as it surveyed the chaos, searching for the one who would dare to challenge it. Sailor Pluto's heart raced as she stepped forward, her Garnet Rod at the ready.

The creature's sly grin grew wider as it issued a guttural command to its minions, the goons eagerly rushing towards Sailor Pluto.

But instead of the usual barrage of fists and kicks, they aimed for her limbs, their cold, clammy hands reaching out to seize her. Yeojin's eyes widened in surprise, realizing that the Time Snatchers had indeed learned from her past battles. She danced away from their grasp, her movements swift and precise, her heart racing with the realization that she was in for a far more tactical battle this time.

Her back now to the monster, Sailor Pluto's instincts were on high alert. The creature's tentacles shot out like lightning, aiming for her limbs with a precision that spoke of the their newfound strategy. She spun and twirled, the crimson bow fluttering around her, as she narrowly avoided each electric embrace.

The monster's tentacles grew longer and more agile with each failed attempt, stretching out like the twisted arms of a giant octopus. Yeojin's eyes darted back and forth, searching for an opening, a weakness she could exploit.

The creature's grin grew wider, enjoying the cat-and-mouse game it had orchestrated. But she was Sailor Pluto, the guardian of the underworld, and she had faced down the jaws of defeat before. With a swift pivot, she ducked under a tentacle and rolled away, creating enough distance to regain her composure.

Before Sailor Pluto could fully recover her bearings, she found herself ensnared by the goons' tight grasp, their grip like iron around her arms and legs. Sailor Pluto knows she can escape their hold with her super strangth.

With a wicked chuckle, the creature took its shot, a tentacle lashing out with the speed of lightning to wrap around her most sensitive area. The tip of tentacle rubbing on her crotch.

Electricity surged through her, a white-hot agony that seemed to freeze time itself as she arched her back in pain. The goons' laughter grew louder, echoing through the square as they tightened their hold, eager to watch their foe suffer.

The electric tentacle's grip loosened, and with a gasp, Sailor Pluto collapsed face down onto the scorched pavement, her body trembling with the aftershocks of pain. The goons, cackling in triumph, released their ironclad hold, watching as she fought to push herself back up. Her limbs quivered, her usually steadfast resolve momentarily shaken.

The goons closed in, their twisted grins widening as they sensed her weakness. Sailor Pluto mustered every ounce of her will and swung a punch at the nearest goon, only to have her blow land with the strength of a feather's touch.

Her shock was palpable—the crotch attack had sapped her of her usual formidable might. She gritted her teeth, her eyes flashing with determination as she realized she would have to outsmart them if she was to survive.

As she tries to kick the approaching goon, her leg is caught in the vice-like grip of another, leaving her open to the creature's vile intentions. The monster's tentacle, still crackling with electricity, rears back for another strike at her crotch. Yeojin's eyes widen with horror as she feels the electricity surge through her once more, a pain so intense that it seems to pierce her very soul. The world around her begins to dim, the laughter of the goons and the chaos of the battle fading into a distant cacophony. Her body convulses, and she can feel the last of her strength draining away. The monster's grin widens in anticipation of her defeat, as the electricity courses through her veins, stealing her consciousness.

And just as the world goes dark, she feels herself being hoisted into the air by the tentacles, her body limp and powerless. The goons retreat, their victory assured. The Grand Maestro's laughter echoes through the square as Yeojin's unconscious form is carried away into the night, leaving behind only the fading whispers of a battle that had tested the very limits of her power.

///

Yeojin's eyes snapped open, the remnants of electric pain still crackling through her body as she took in her new surroundings. The air was thick with the scent of ozone, and she found herself hanging by her wrists, body standing above a cold, metallic floor. The goons from the battle swarmed around her, their twisted forms cackling and jeering. The Grand Maestro of Temporal Chaos loomed over her, a smug smile playing on his lips as he observed his captive prize. The room was dimly lit, with screens and control panels flickering with images of the city's distorted timeline—a twisted reflection of the chaos he had sown.

"I see you are awake now, little menace."

"Stop this right now you ugly creature! Release me before I end the lives of everyone in this room."

The Grand Maestro of Temporal Chaos chuckled at Sailor Pluto's defiant words, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic glee.

"Ah, so the mighty guardian of time is not as invincible as she believes. I have studied your battles, and I know where to strike to bring you to your knees."

He gestured to his goons, who approached Yeojin with gleeful anticipation, their twisted grins revealing their excitement at the prospect of causing her pain. One of them produced a device, a twisted mix of technology and dark magic that hummed with an unsettling energy.

"You will learn to fear me, Sailor Pluto," he sneered, "and when you do, when you are broken and begging for mercy, I will take your power and reshape the fabric of time to suit my whims!"

The device was brought closer, the air around it crackling with a dangerous electricity.

The goon lifted Sailor Pluto's skirt with a sneer, exposing her most sensitive area to the Grand Maestro's twisted invention. The device buzzed with malicious intent, its vibrations sending a wave of nauseating fear through Yeojin's body.

The device's vibrating shaft reached the edge of her panties, and Sailor Pluto could feel the electricity building up, ready to be unleashed upon her once more.

"AHHHHHHH"

Her scream pierced the air as the Grand Maestro's invention made contact with her most sensitive area, the pain beyond anything she had ever endured. Her body went rigid as the current surged through her, the very essence of her power being drawn out in a torrent of agony. The goons jeered, their eyes alight with sadistic pleasure at her suffering, and the Grand Maestro leaned in close, whispering sweet nothings about the fate of the city she had sworn to protect.

"All you have to do is to give me your source of power and you will be as free as a bird," the Grand Maestro tells her with his hand grabbing her chin.

Through gritted teeth, Sailor Pluto refused, "Never! I will never surrender the power that protects this city!"

"Very well"

The vibration intensity on the device increased rapidly, and Yeojin could do nothing but look up to the ceiling and let out a soul-wrenching scream.

Her eyes squeezed shut, she could feel the power of Sailor Pluto being ripped from her core with every pulse of electricity, leaving her weaker by the second. The Grand Maestro's laughter grew louder, feeding on her agony.

As the device's intensity grew, Yeojin could feel her body begin to convulse, the pain from the relentless crotch attacks growing unbearable. With a final, desperate cry, she felt her transformation slip away, leaving her in nothing but her underwear.

Her uniform lay in tatters around her, revealing her bra-covered, erect nipples and the damp, glistening fabric of her panties that clung to her exposed pussy lips. Her body was a canvas of sweat, a testament to her struggle and the sheer force of the Grand Maestro's power.

Her body trembled, and her breaths grew shallow, but she would not give in to his demands. The very essence of Sailor Pluto's power was being siphoned away, but her spirit remained unbroken, a beacon of hope in the face of overwhelming darkness.

The Grand Maestro's eyes gleamed with a newfound idea as he took in the sight of the weakened Yeojin. His smile grew broader, a twisted reflection of his sadistic intentions.

He knew that brute force had failed to break her, so he would have to employ a different tactic—one that would play upon her most primal fears and desires. The Grand Maestro had deduced that if pain alone could not make her submit, perhaps a more... intimate approach would be more effective.

The Grand Maestro stepped back, his eyes raking over Yeojin's exposed body with a hunger that was palpable. He leaned in close to her ear, his breath hot against her neck, and whispered,

"You are quite the captivating creature, aren't you, Sailor Pluto?" His tone had changed, the malice replaced with a syrupy sweetness that made her skin crawl.

"I can offer you a deal. If you pledge yourself to me, as my personal plaything, giving me all of your powers, I will not only spare your life but grant you unparalleled pleasure beyond your wildest dreams. You will be adored and pampered, your every need met, as long as you cooperate." His hand trailed down her spine, pausing at the small of her back before sliding around to cup her covered crotch.

The goons' laughter grew more frenzied, their eyes alight with the depraved joy of witnessing their leader's twisted seduction. Yeojin's heart raced, fear and anger warring within her as she felt his grip tighten around her. She knew she had to keep her wits about her if she was to survive this new form of attack.

Her voice trembled slightly, but she found the strength to spit out a vehement refusal.

"I will never betray my duty to protect this city. Release me now, or face my wrath!" The Grand Maestro chuckled, his grip loosening just enough to let her know that she was still in his power.

"We shall see," he said, his voice a dark promise that sent a shiver down her spine. "We shall see just how long you can resist the allure of the darkness before you embrace it willingly."

The Grand Maestro's goons, eager to please their leader, rushed forward to do his bidding. Two sets of rough hands reached up to cup Yeojin's bra-covered breasts, playing with her erect nipples through the fabric, eliciting gasps of pain and disgust from her.

Meanwhile, more hands grabbed and smacked her exposed asscheeks, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing through the chamber like a perverse symphony.

Another hand, cold and slimy, traced the outline of her pussy, the fabric of her underwear providing little barrier to the unwanted touch. Yeojin's eyes burned with a mix of anger and fear, her mind racing for a way to escape this degrading torment.

The Grand Maestro stepped back, watching the scene unfold with a twisted smile. He knew that the physical pain was just the beginning—his true weapon was the psychological warfare he was about to unleash upon her.

"Look at her," he taunted, "the great Sailor Pluto, reduced to a mere plaything for the amusement of the Time Snatchers."

Yeojin gritted her teeth, her body on fire with humiliation. She knew she had to find a way out of this nightmare before it was too late. As the goons continued their lewd assault, she searched for an opening, any weakness she could exploit. But with every touch, every smack, she felt herself slipping further into despair.

"Please, stop this!" she begged, her body squirming against the relentless assault of the goons.

The Grand Maestro's grin grew wider, his eyes gleaming with victory as a goon's hand slipped into her underwear, the cold, wet digits brushing against her sensitive flesh. Despite her pleas, she couldn't help the involuntary moan that escaped her lips as the creature's touch grew bolder.

"Look at her," he gloated, "she's already beginning to crave it. Soon, she'll be begging for more."

"Get....out.....Mmfffgh.....No.....Don't!"

The goon's fingers delved deeper into Yeojin's pussy, eliciting a whimper of mixed pain and embarrassment from her lips. The Grand Maestro's eyes gleamed with triumph as he watched her body react to the unwanted intrusion, her wetness growing despite her protests.

Her panties clung to her now, the fabric darkening as she grew wetter with each invasive stroke. The goons' laughter grew more raucous, their excitement palpable as they reveled in her degradation.

With a Herculean effort fueled by her unyielding will, Yeojin managed to break free from the entanglement around her wrists and the goons' clutches. She pushed them away with a strength born of desperation, sending them sprawling across the metallic floor.

Gasping for breath and clutching at her bruised body, she sprinted towards a nearby door, her bare feet slapping against the cold surface. The goons scrambled to their feet, their leers twisted into snarls of frustration, but she was too fast.

Slamming the door shut behind her, she stumbled into a small, dimly lit chamber, her chest heaving as she searched for a means of escape. The room was sparse, with only a single chair and a control panel that pulsed with a sinister glow.

Before Yeojin could even consider her next move, a sudden sensation of cold and slimy grip encircled her wrists and ankles.

Her eyes widened in horror as she found herself ensnared by the tentacled monster that she fought before had emerged from the shadows, its elongated limbs wrapping around her with alarming strength. The creature's beady eyes bore into hers, a twisted grin stretching across its grotesque face.

She struggled and squirmed, her heart racing as she realized the Grand Maestro had been toying with her all along. The tentacles grew tighter, the pressure on her wrists and ankles increasing, forcing her to her knees.

The tentacled monster took advantage of her vulnerable position, sending another jolt of electricity directly into her body, centering on her pussy. Yeojin's body spasmed, her eyes rolling back as the agonizing current surged through her.

Despite her pleas for mercy, the creature's grin only widened, the sadistic glee in its eyes growing more intense with each jolt. Her body writhed in pain, her cries for help echoing through the cold, metallic chamber.

"Please.....Ah....No more....."

With a final, agonizing pulse of electricity, Yeojin felt the last vestiges of her Sailor Pluto transformation leave her.

Her underwear disintegrated, leaving her fully exposed and vulnerable in the tentacled creature's grasp. Her body spasmed one final time before going limp, the pain too much for her to bear.

The goons' eyes bulged with excitement as they took in the sight of her naked form, the Grand Maestro's plans having stripped away her last shred of dignity along with her powers.

She laid down after being released, panting and trembling, her breasts heaving with each desperate gasp for air. The cold, metallic floor was a stark contrast to the warm, sticky wetness between her legs, a testament to the monster's relentless assault.

The Grand Maestro leaned over her, his twisted smile never leaving his face as he offered one last ultimatum. "Your choice, Sailor Pluto—surrender your power, or suffer an eternity of torment at the hands of my minions."

Yeojin's chest heaved with exertion, her eyes brimming with determination despite the agony etched into her features.

"No.....you cannot.....bring me....down."

She weakly yet firmly shook her head, her sweat-drenched hair sticking to her face. The beads of perspiration trickled down her neck, carving a path between her breasts, pooling in her cleavage.

"You leave me with no choice, Sailor Pluto."

The Grand Maestro's smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with victory as two of his goons grabbed Yeojin's arms, hoisting her weakened body into a kneeling position. Her legs trembled, her knees shake from the relentless assault but she managed to keep herself upright.

The Grand Maestro reached into the folds of his cloak and revealed his monstrous, pulsating cock, the size of which was incomparable to any human's.

Yeojin's eyes bulged with fear, unable to comprehend the sheer magnitude of the horror before her. It was a weapon of nightmares, a tool of violation and submission that seemed to beckon to the very core of her being.

The goons' held her in place, their grip tightening around her arms, ensuring she had no escape from the Grand Maestro's depraved intentions.

The creature's cock grew larger still, a grotesque display of power that seemed to feed on her terror. Yeojin gulped, her heart racing as she stared at the obscene appendage, her mind racing for any way to resist the fate that seemed to await her.

The Grand Maestro leaned in closer, his monstrous cock a mere inch from her face.

"Open your mouth," he demanded, his voice thick with desire.

"No!" Yeojin's eyes widened with horror, and she turned her face away, her jaw clenched shut.

Without warning, the two goons holding her arms leaned in, prying open her mouth with their fingers. Yeojin's eyes snapped open, her scream of protest muffled as the Grand Maestro's cock was shoved deep into her throat.

She gagged and choked, her eyes watering as she struggled against the intrusion. The creature's grip on her face was unyielding, his hips bucking forward with each thrust, pushing her to her limits.

"Aughhh...Mmmff.....Gleurghh!"

It took several painstaking moments for the Grand Maestro's massive, pulsing cock to be fully sheathed within Yeojin's delicate throat. Her eyes watered and bulged with the effort of taking in the monstrous girth, her cheeks hollowed as she struggled for air around the intrusion.

Her throat muscles convulsed around the shaft, a silent protest against the violation, as the creature's head tilted back in ecstasy at the feeling of her tight warmth surrounding him.

Each thrust brought forth a muffled gagging sound that only served to spur him on, the obscene outline of his cock clearly visible as it vanished into her throat. Yeojin's body trembled with each deep penetration, her legs threatening to give way beneath her as she fought to keep herself upright.

"Yes, take it all in, little slut."

Her eyes rolled back, the whites showing as she struggled to maintain her consciousness amidst the relentless onslaught of the Grand Maestro's monstrous cock. Saliva cascaded down her chin, leaving a wet trail that pooled at her neckline before trickling down to her heaving breasts.

When he finally withdrew from her throat, she gasped for air, her chest heaving with the desperate need to breathe. Her vision swam, and she felt a tear escape the corner of her eye, trailing down her cheek to mingle with the saliva and sweat that coated her face.

The Grand Maestro's eyes gleamed with a twisted mix of pleasure and triumph, his cock glistening with her saliva. He leaned in closer, his hot breath against her ear.

"You see, you do crave the darkness. Embrace it, Sailor Pluto, and perhaps I'll make your existence pleasurable."

Yeojin's resolve shone through her tear-stained eyes as she choked out a firm, "N-Never!"

Despite her weakened state, she gathered every ounce of her will and shoved back at the Grand Maestro's chest, her voice a testament to her unbreakable spirit. However, her resistance only served to fuel his anger.

With a snarl, he pushed her back onto the cold, hard floor, his tentacled creature holding her legs in place as he positioned himself between her trembling legs. The goons watched with rapt attention, their own malicious desires reflected in their twisted expressions. Yeojin's legs were forced apart, the Grand Maestro's massive cock poised at her entrance, ready to claim victory over her body and soul.

"W-wait, don't!"

With a snarl of fury, the Grand Maestro ignored Yeojin's desperate pleas and thrust his monstrous cock into her tight, unyielding pussy. Yeojin's eyes widened in agony as she was stretched to her limits, the pain unlike anything she had ever experienced. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands as she clenched her fists, trying to find any purchase in the cold, unforgiving floor beneath her. The creature's tentacles tightened around her ankles, holding her in place as the Grand Maestro claimed her, inch by agonizing inch.

"Ah!..Ah!..geugh...ah...n-no stop i-it!"

Her screams of pain and defiance filled the chamber, echoing off the metallic walls, a stark contrast to the gleeful cheers of the goons that watched on. The Grand Maestro's hips moved with a brutal rhythm, each thrust driving home the reality of her newfound captivity.

"Let see if you can handle all of this, Sailor Pluto!"

Yeojin's head fell back with a mix of pain and a surprising, unwanted pleasure as the Grand Maestro's monstrous cock invaded her with each punishing thrust. Her eyes rolled upwards, the ceiling spinning as the intense sensations overwhelmed her.

"Ohh...fuck! Pull t-that monster o-out!"

Despite her fierce will to resist, she couldn't help the low, guttural moan that slipped from her throat with every brutal penetration.

His palms found her breasts, squeezing and kneading them without mercy, the harsh bounce only serving to heighten his pleasure. The room was filled with the obscene sounds of wet flesh slapping against wet flesh, a symphony of violation.

Her body, usually a bastion of strength and grace, now trembled and convulsed beneath his, her Sailor Pluto uniform discarded and forgotten.

Her thoughts swirled in a maelstrom of agony and degradation, the once stoic guardian of time now reduced to a writhing, moaning plaything for her enemy's sick desires.

The tentacles held her tight, their grip unyielding as he pounded into her with a ferocity that seemed to defy the very laws of the universe she was sworn to protect.

The Grand Maestro's eyes gleamed with perverse triumph as he noticed Yeojin's eyes crossing and her pussy clenching around his monstrous cock, a clear sign she was approaching climax. His thrusts grew more frenzied, driving into her with a speed that seemed to defy the very fabric of time itself.

Yeojin's cries grew louder, echoing through the chamber like a siren's call, her body a canvas of pain and unwanted pleasure. Each powerful thrust sent waves of agony and ecstasy crashing through her, her mind struggling to reconcile the two as she felt herself inexorably drawn closer to the brink.

Despite her desperate attempts to maintain control, her body began to betray her, her moans growing more wanton, her hips bucking up to meet the Grand Maestro's punishing rhythm. Her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to hold back the tide of pleasure threatening to overwhelm her.

Yeojin's mind was a tumult of conflicting emotions.

"Why...why does it feel so...good?" she thought to herself, her body involuntarily responding to the brutal invasion with a betrayal of pleasure. The thought of enjoying this violation sent a fresh wave of despair crashing through her.

She was Sailor Pluto, a guardian of justice and purity—how could she find any solace in such depravity? Her mind screamed for it to stop, yet her body seemed to crave the very thing she detested. Her thoughts grew hazy, the line between agony and ecstasy blurring until it was almost indistinguishable.

"No...no, this can't be right," she whispered to herself, her voice lost in the cacophony of her own moans.

The Grand Maestro's grin grew wider with each passing second, his eyes gleaming with victory as he watched Yeojin's resolve crumble. He knew that he had found her weakness—the dark, carnally base desires that lay dormant within even the purest of hearts.

"Surrender to the pleasure, Sailor Pluto," he taunted, his voice a seductive purr that seemed to resonate through her very soul.

Yeojin bit her lower lip, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to fight the inescapable truth. The pleasure was overwhelming, a crescendo building within her that she knew would soon shatter her. Her body trembled and arched off the floor with every deep, powerful thrust, her breasts bouncing with the rhythm of his depravity.

"I...I can't...I won't!" she protested through gritted teeth, her voice strained with the effort to maintain her sanity.

But the crisis within her grew more intense with each passing moment, the pleasure threatening to consume her entirely. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her body moving in time with the Grand Maestro's vile dance.

"Oh...god...no!" she screamed internally, her thoughts a chaotic jumble of resistance and capitulation.

With a final, guttural scream, Yeojin's body betrayed her, succumbing to the Grand Maestro's twisted seduction. Her pussy clamped down on his cock, her orgasm ripping through her like a tempest. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she threw her head back, her long hair a wild mess around her. Her entire body quivered and writhed in the throes of ecstasy, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. The Grand Maestro, grinning triumphantly, withdrew from her, allowing her to ride the waves of pleasure that crashed through her.

The tentacles released their hold, and Yeojin's limbs fell limp to the floor, her body shaking uncontrollably as she succumbed to the intense climax that had been wrung from her. Her sweat-soaked skin glistened in the harsh, cold light of the chamber, each tremor sending droplets flying in every direction. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes, though still not open fully, bore the marks of her defeat.

"Get up you pathetic whore."

The Grand Maestro's triumphant laughter echoed through the chamber as he lifted Yeojin's limp form off the ground and placed her onto his broad, muscular chest as he laid down. She felt the coldness of the floor leave her body as she was positioned atop the creature, his monstrous cock still erect and demanding. Her legs were spread wide, and she could feel the sticky warmth of her own juices mingling with the creature's precum, creating a slick mess that made her stomach turn. Her mind racing as she tried to find the will to resist. But the relentless pounding she had endured had taken its toll, and she was barely able to hold herself upright.

The creature's hands found her hips, guiding her into a rhythm she knew all too well. Yeojin's body, still reeling from the intense orgasm, had little fight left in it. Her hand willingly reinsert his cock to its awaiting prize. Her legs began to move almost of their own accord, her pussy sliding up and down his thick, pulsing shaft. His grip on her hips tightening as he felt her body begin to respond to his touch once more. Despite her protests, her hips rocked back and forth, her movements growing more urgent as she felt the beginnings of another climax building within her.

"Look at you, Sailor Pluto," he sneered, his voice thick with lust. "So eager to be filled with my darkness."

Yeojin's eyes snapped open, her teeth clenched in anger. The humiliation of being used so thoroughly was almost too much to bear. Yet, she couldn't deny the traitorous pleasure that washed over her as she rode his monstrous cock. Her breasts bobbed with each movement, her nipples hard and sensitive to the cold air. Her cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red as she heard the goons' lewd comments and felt their eyes on her.

With a snarl, she tried to push herself away from the creature, but his grip was too strong. Instead, she found herself grinding down on him, her pussy clenching around his cock as she sought to regain some semblance of control. The Grand Maestro's eyes widened in shock and pleasure, his hips bucking up to meet hers.

"Come my minions. Get a taste of her for yourselves."

Her eyes widened in horror as two of the goons stepped forward, each grabbing one of her wrists and forcing her hands to wrap around their grotesque, pulsing members. Their skin felt like a twisted mockery of flesh, cold and slimy, and Yeojin had to fight back the bile rising in her throat. Despite her struggles, they held her firm, their grips unyielding as she was made to pleasure them.

Meanwhile, another goon approached, his tentacle-like appendage slithering towards her mouth, eager to rejoin the depraved orchestra of her degradation. The Grand Maestro's chuckles grew louder as he watched his minions claim their spoils from the defeated heroine. Yeojin's mind raced, searching for a way to escape, but her body remained a prison to the overwhelming pleasure that still lingered from her recent climax. She could feel their excitement growing with each stroke of her hand, each bob of her head, their eyes burning with a sick, twisted lust.

The tentacle monster, driven wild by the sight of Sailor Pluto's degradation, eagerly approached her exposed and vulnerable form. Its tentacles coiled and twitched with a newfound purpose, forming a massive, throbbing phallus that aimed straight for Yeojin's trembling asshole. Despite her fierce resistance, the creature's overwhelming desire could not be denied.

The Grand Maestro's grip on her hips tightened, holding her in place as the tentacles slithered closer to her tight, puckered hole. Yeojin's eyes widened in horror as she felt the cold, slimy appendage brush against her sensitive skin, the reality of the impending violation sending a shiver down her spine. Her struggles grew more desperate, her body tense with fear and disgust, but she was no match for the monster's inhuman strength.

The tentacle began to probe her asshole, its tip slick with a strange, oily substance that seemed to ease its passage despite the initial resistance. Yeojin's breath hitched as she felt the monster's phallus pushing against her tight sphincter, her mind screaming in protest. But as much as she fought, her body had been pushed to its limits, and she was unable to resist the inevitable.

With a sickening pop, the tentacle breached her, sending a wave of pain and unwanted pleasure through her body. The creature's tentacles wrapped around her waist, holding her in place as it began to thrust into her, the Grand Maestro's cock still filling her pussy.

"AHHH FUCK! IT'S TOO MUCH!"

Yeojin's screams of anguish and humiliation filled the chamber, a cacophony of despair that seemed to fuel the goons' depraved lust.

At the brink of the session, the Grand Maestro's watched his minions take turns with the defeated Sailor Pluto, her body a playground for their twisted desires. Yeojin, her resolve wavering, was passed around like a prize, her mouth forced onto one cock after another, the taste of them mingling with her own tears and sweat. Her pussy, already raw and tender, was at one time, stretched to accommodate two of the goons at once, their grunts of pleasure mingling with her cries of pain. The tentacle monster had moved on, leaving her asshole gaping and sensitive, only for it to be filled by the thick, pulsing cock of another goon.

The Grand Maestro, basking in his victory, continued to pound into Sailor Pluto's ravaged pussy, her small body a limp ragdoll in his arms, her legs and arms wrapped around his waist and neck. His minions had finished their perverse ritual, their cum painting Yeojin's face and body in a vile tableau of conquest. Her moans had transformed from those of resistance to a symphony of carnality, her body no longer able to differentiate between pain and pleasure.

Each thrust from the Grand Maestro sent a fresh wave of liquid fire through her, her orgasms now a never-ending cascade of sensation that obliterated all thought and reason. Her eyes, once filled with determination and righteous fury, were now glazed over with a mix of pleasure and despair. The creature's monstrous cock filled her completely, his movements growing erratic as he approached his climax. Yeojin's body shuddered and spasmed around him, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Despite the horror of her situation, she could feel her body responding to the brutal violation, her pussy clenching and unclenching around his thick shaft like a vice.

"Here it comes! Take it all in your tiny tight pussy!"

With a triumphant roar, the Grand Maestro's cock swelled and erupted within Sailor Pluto, filling her to the brim with his hot, potent seed. Yeojin's body convulsed as she was claimed by the monster, her orgasm tearing through her like a supernova, leaving her trembling and spent in his arms.

Sailor Pluto's limp body was unceremoniously tossed onto the cold, stone floor of the chamber, a pitiful sight amidst the detritus of the battle she had so valiantly fought. The Grand Maestro's semen pooled and flowed out of her, mingling with the remnants of her own juices and the cum of his minions that had been forced into her earlier.

Her eyes stares blankly, a single tear escaping to trace a sad path down her cheek. Occasional twitches rippled through her form as the aftershocks of her numerous orgasms continued to plague her, a silent testament to the overstimulation she had suffered. The goons stepped back, panting and sated, their grotesque forms basking in the glow of their victory over the once-mighty guardian of time.

Her transformation rod appeared out of thin air and clattered to the ground beside her, a stark reminder of the power she had once wielded. The Garnet Rod, now a simple, innocuous object, seemed to mock her with its presence. Her body, still quivering from the relentless onslaught of pleasure and pain, could no longer contain the essence of her guardian form. The symbol of Pluto's power had been forced from her, a silent surrender to the Grand Maestro's dominance. The room grew still as the creature loomed over her, his monstrous cock still erect, his eyes gleaming with triumph. Yeojin knew that she had lost more than just a battle; she had lost a piece of herself to the dark embrace of temporal chaos.

///

A week had passed since Sailor Pluto's defeat, and the city was a shadow of its former self. The once bustling metropolis had descended into a cacophony of fear and confusion as the Time Snatchers' influence grew unchecked. The citizens walked the streets with their heads down, the joy and vitality that had once characterized their lives now replaced with a palpable dread. The absence of the heroine who had sworn to protect them was felt in every tick of the clock and every racing heartbeat that echoed through the city's veins.

In the dimly lit chamber of the Time Snatchers' lair, Yeojin, once the mighty Sailor Pluto, knelt before the line of grinning goons. Her mind, once a bastion of resolve and duty, now for the darkest of desires, had been irrevocably corrupted. Her lips, once a symbol of righteousness, were now a vessel for the perverse satisfaction of her captors. Each goon stepped forward, presenting their erect members to her with a lewd smirk.

Yeojin's eyes, now devoid of the fiery determination that had once been their hallmark, flickered with a mix of submission and despair as she took the next cock into her mouth. Her tongue danced around the swollen heads, tasting the vile flavor of their malicious intent, as the Grand Maestro watched on with a smug smile. Her body had become a mere instrument for their depravity, her will shackled by the very essence of temporal chaos that she had once vowed to combat. The room was filled with the sickening sounds of her gagging and slurping, her cheeks hollowing with each forced deep-throat, as she served the very beings she had sworn to vanquish. The stench of sweat and cum lingered in the stale air, a constant reminder of her degradation.

Her eyes, once a deep blue reflecting the power of Pluto, now clouded with a mix of need and despair, searched for the Grand Maestro's approval. As she noticed him standing there, watching with a cruel smile, she crawled over to him, her movements animalistic and submissive.

"Please," she whispered hoarsely, her voice a mere shadow of its former authority, "I need Master to fill me up."

The Grand Maestro's grin grew wider, his monstrous cock twitching in anticipation. Yeojin looked up at him with a pleading gaze, her own hands moving to spread her ass cheeks apart, offering herself up to him completely.

"Fuck me," she begged, her voice cracking with the weight of her own degradation. "I want Master's cock in my ass."

The creature's eyes gleamed with dark pleasure at her words. He stepped closer, his cock now coated in the cum of his minions, a vile symbol of their collective victory over her.

"You shall have what you wish," he said, his voice low and rumbling. "But remember, Sailor Pluto, you are no longer a heroine. You are merely our plaything, to be used and discarded as we see fit."

With a cruel twist of his hand, he inserted a finger into her gaping asshole, causing Yeojin to gasp. He watched her reaction with amusement, enjoying her whimpers of pain and pleasure. Then, without warning, he plunged his thick cock into her, the force of his thrust making her cry out. The room was filled with the sickening sound of flesh slapping against flesh as he began to fuck her hard, his movements punctuated by her desperate cries for more.

The goons, their lust rekindled by the sight of their leader claiming Sailor Pluto, began to stroke their own cocks once more, eager for their turn to violate the heroine who had once stood tall against them. Yeojin, lost to the endless cycle of pain and pleasure, could only whimper and moan, her mind a haze of submission and despair. The Grand Maestro's thrusts grew more intense, his eyes locked onto hers, boring into her soul.

"Fuck me harder! Fill me with your cum! Make me your bitch, Master!"

The Grand Maestro's grip on her hips tightened, his pace increasing as he approached his climax. Yeojin could feel her own orgasm building again, the relentless waves of pleasure threatening to consume her. The room swam around her, the boundaries between her two lives blurring into one dark, twisted reality.

As the Grand Maestro finally came, filling her ass with his thick, hot seed, Yeojin collapsed onto the floor, her body trembling from the sheer intensity of the experience. The goons stepped closer, eager to continue her corruption, their eyes gleaming with malicious intent. And through it all, Yeojin smiles. She knew that she was no longer the protector of time; she was now its prisoner, forever bound to the whims of the Time Snatchers.

[atlasthegreatest]

Heat of the Moment / Ning Yizhou x Female Reader

Which, Ning Yizhou can't help but lose herself in the heat of the moment when a very attractive woman looks at her in the middle of a club. But at the end of the night, maybe it stopped just being a heat of the moment.

Word count: 6445

Warnings: Slightly explicit scene (heavy makeout). They can't stop keeping their hands off each other.

A/n: I wrote this while listening to “Into You” by Ariana Grande. Shitty description, maybe ill change it later.

The club was a swirling kaleidoscope of colors—neon pinks and deep blues pulsing with the rhythm of the bass that seemed to shake the ground beneath everyone’s feet. The energy in the air was electric, and NingNing could feel it seeping into her skin, setting every nerve alight. Tonight, she was just Ning Yi Zhuo, not the NingNing of Aespa. No stages, no cameras—just music, the haze of alcohol, and the promise of something more.

Her lips curved in a small, secretive smile as she sipped her drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass. She wore a fitted black crop top that shimmered under the strobe lights, paired with sleek leather pants that hugged her legs perfectly. Her hair fell in soft waves down her back, and her makeup—a smoky eye with a bold red lip—was just enough to remind herself that tonight was hers. No rules, no limits.

And then, she saw her.

Y/n leaned against the bar, one arm resting casually on the counter as she spoke to the bartender. There was something magnetic about the way she held herself—like she wasn't just a part of the night but the reason it was burning so bright. Y/n wore an oversized shirt that hung just right over her frame with a black jacket over it, paired with loose black pants and chain accessories that glinted under the dim lights. Confident without trying, effortlessly cool.

NingNing’s gaze lingered a second too long, just enough for the other woman to feel it. And when Y/n looked her way, that lazy grin forming on her lips, the air between them seemed to tighten, pulling her closer without a word.

NingNing felt her heartbeat quicken. This wasn’t the kind of moment she was supposed to chase. But something about the way that woman’s eyes locked with hers—like she knew exactly what game she was playing and was more than ready to join—made it impossible to resist.

With a flick of her hair, NingNing set down her drink and started toward the mysterious woman, each step deliberate, every sway of her hips in perfect rhythm with the music. The crowd melted away as she closed the distance between them, the heat of anticipation making her skin tingle.

When she reached her, she stopped just close enough for their shoulders to brush.

“You’ve been looking at me,” NingNing said softly, her voice smooth but playful, just loud enough for the woman to hear over the music.

Y/n leaned down slightly, her breath warm against the idol’s ear. “You noticed?”

NingNing’s lips curled. “Hard not to.”

The tension between them crackled, subtle but charged, like the space between a match and a flame. Y/n tilted her head, the glint in her eyes making it clear that she was all in, with no hesitation.

“Dance with me,” Y/n murmured, though it sounded less like a question and more like a dare.

NingNing’s heart raced, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she gave the tall woman a look that said I’ve got you right where I want you, even though she wasn’t entirely sure who was leading who. “Alright,” she whispered, the word brushing against Y/n’s skin like silk.

Y/n took her hand, her fingers cool and steady against hers, and guided her onto the dance floor. The music shifted, slowing just slightly, a deep, sultry rhythm threading through the air.

And that’s when it started—something unspoken, something intoxicating.

NingNing pressed close, her body molding effortlessly to Y/n’s as the two of them moved in sync, lost in the music and each other. Y/n’s hands found her waist, drawing her closer, and NingNing could feel the heat of her touch even through the fabric of her clothes. Every movement was deliberate—her hips swaying against hers, Y/n’s breath on her neck—like the world outside this dance didn’t exist.

It wasn’t just the way Y/n moved; it was the way she looked at her like she knew exactly what this night could become. Every glance, every brush of skin, every shift of weight felt like a slow dive into something dangerous and thrilling.

The song melted into another, but neither of them stopped. It was as if the beat was the only thing keeping their feet grounded and the only thing stopping either of them from leaning in too far, too fast. And yet, the temptation was undeniable—just one kiss away from losing all control.

Y/n’s hand trailed up her spine, sending shivers in its wake, and she leaned down once again, her lips brushing the shell of NingNing’s ear. “Let’s get out of here.”

It wasn’t a request—it was an inevitability. And NingNing knew she wanted it just as much as the other woman did. Her breath hitched, her mind buzzing with the thrill of everything Y/n was about to do, everything she shouldn’t.

Without another word, NingNing nodded, her fingers lacing with Y/n’s as she slipped through the crowd like conspirators sharing a beautiful secret. The two of them pushed out into the cool night air, leaving behind the thrum of the club but carrying the same heat between them.

——————

The world outside felt surreal, the quiet hum of the city streets no match for the pulse still thrumming in her veins. Y/n looked at her, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and NingNing couldn’t help but smile—because somehow, she knew tonight was just the beginning.

Y/n tugged her closer, and without a second thought, NingNing let herself fall deeper into her—into this moment, into the spark they had ignited together. No past, no future, just now. And she was ready to burn for it.

“Where to?” she asked, her voice low, a playful challenge in her tone.

Y/n grinned, brushing a thumb over her hand. “Anywhere. As long as it’s with you.”

And that was all she needed to hear. The night stretched out before them, full of endless possibilities, and NingNing was more than ready to explore every one of them—with Y/n.

———————-

The streets felt different now— emptier as they belonged to Y/n and NingNing. There was a charge in the air, crackling between their linked hands, the unspoken promise of everything that could happen. The moonlight dripped over the pavement, illuminating the two of them like a spotlight in the dark.

Neither of them said much as they wandered away from the crowded nightlife, but the silence between them wasn’t awkward— it was electric, filled with the kind of tension that made every glance and every touch feel like a spark ready to ignite.

They walked side by side until Y/n found a secluded alleyway, just outside the reach of the city’s noise. NingNing stopped first, her back resting against the cool brick wall, the smirk on her lips matching the daring glint in her eyes.

“ You’re trouble,” she murmured, her gaze flicking over the tall woman, playful but serious.

Y/n took a step closer, bracing her hand on the wall beside the idol. “ Is that a bad thing?”

NingNing’s lips curved into a knowing smile, her fingers trailing lightly up Y/n’s forearm, sending shivers in their wake. “ No,” she whispered, “I like trouble.”

Before Y/n could respond, NingNing pulled her down by the collar of her shirt, her lips crashing into hers. The kiss was instant heat— no hesitation, no second-guessing. Just pure want. It was slow, deep, and unrelenting, the kind of kiss that left her dizzy, as if the world tilted, and all that remained was this moment between them.

Y/n’s hands slid over NingNing’s waist, pulling her closer until there wasn’t a breath of space between their bodies. NingNing tasted sweetness and something darker— like she had been waiting all night for this, and now that she had it, she wasn’t going to let go.

NingNing’s fingers tangled in Y/n’s hair, tugging enough to draw a soft groan from her, and it only made the Chinese woman smile into the kiss. Y/n knew that smile— it was dangerous. Like she was enjoying every second of unraveling her. And Y/n likes it.

“Careful,” Y/n murmured against her lips, breathless. “You might regret this.”

NingNing’s laugh was soft, but her eyes glittered with challenge. “I don’t regret things I want.”

With that, she kissed Y/n again, fiercer this time, as if daring her to keep up with her pace. And Y/n did. She matched her intensity, each kiss becoming hungrier, more urgent like she was chasing something she knew she couldn’t hold on to but couldn’t resist anyway.

The world around them disappeared, and all that remained was the taste of NingNing, the press of her body, and the heat simmering between them. Time slipped away, lost in the rhythm of their shared breath and the way her hands explored every part of Y/n she could reach.

When they finally pulled away, gasping for air, their foreheads rested against each other. Both of them were breathless, their hearts pounding in sync like a song only the two of them could hear.

“Still think I’m trouble?” Y/n asked, grinning.

NingNing smirked, her thumb brushing lightly over Y/n’s lower lip. “ Absolutely”

Her gaze softened for a moment, just enough to make Y/n wonder what she was thinking— what was hiding behind that playful exterior. But before Y/n could ask, NingNing grabbed her hand again, pulling her away from the wall.

“Come on,” she said, her voice light but full of promise. “The night’s not over yet.”

And just like that, she was leading Y/n deeper into the night, as if everyone was part of a game only she knew the rules too. But Y/n didn’t care. She’d follow her anywhere.

The two of them wandered through the quiet streets, a pair of conspirators lost in the thrill of the unknown. The city felt alive beneath Y/n’s feet, but none of it mattered— only her, only now.

At some point, they found themselves at an overlook, where the skyline stretched wide and shimmering before them, like a sea of stars scattered across the earth. NingNing leaned against the railing, the cool breeze lifting her hair, and for a moment, she looked out over the city with a rare softness in her expression.

“This,” she whispered as if sharing a secret with Y/n. “This is what freedom feels like.”

Y/nleaned beside her, her shoulder brushing NingNing’s. “Does it?”

NingNing turned to Y/n, a spark dancing in her eyes. “Yeah. Just you, me, and the night.”

For a moment, they both stood there, the city buzzing quietly below while the world between them hummed with anticipation. And then, without warning, NingNing pulled Y/n toward her, her lips brushing her in a kiss that felt different— softer, slower. Like a promise that maybe, just maybe, the night didn’t have to end.

And at that moment, with NingNing pressed against her and the city lights flickering in the distance, Y/n knew she’d chase this feeling for as long as she let her.

Because with NingNing, nothing was guaranteed— except that every second with her would feel like diving headfirst into the fire. And somehow, that was exactly what Y/n wanted.

——————

The night stretched endlessly before them, like a dream they didn’t want to wake from. NingNing’s hand stayed firmly in Y/n’s as they both walked through the quiet streets, the world seeming smaller, more intimate—just the two of them and the night sky hanging low above.

NingNing was buzzing with life, radiating a kind of joy that made it impossible not to smile. Every time she glanced over at Y/n, her eyes sparkled mischievously, as if she was daring her to keep up. And Y/n would—wherever this night led, she’d follow her.

“You’re too quiet,” NingNing teased, swinging her hand playfully. “Second thoughts already?”

Y/n smirked. “Not a chance.”

The idol tilted her head, her grin widening. “Good.” Then, as if on impulse, NingNing spun toward Y/n, walking backward with that same reckless energy that had drawn the other woman in from the start. “So, tell me…” She bit her lip, drawing the words out just to watch Y/n’s reaction. “What are you thinking right now?”

Y/n stopped, pretending to consider her answer. “I think…” she leaned closer, her gaze steady on NingNing’s. “I think you like playing with fire.”

Her laugh was soft and dangerous, the kind of laugh that told Y/n she didn’t mind getting burned. “Maybe I do.”

Before she could respond, NingNing was tugging her along again, this time toward a narrow set of stairs tucked between two buildings. Y/n followed without hesitation, feeling the thrill of her unpredictability pull her deeper. At the top of the stairs was a rooftop garden—small but private, with fairy lights strung between potted plants and a few benches scattered about. It was quiet here, the sounds of the city far below, leaving only the breeze and the faint hum of the lights around them.

NingNing let go of Y/n’s hand and wandered toward the edge of the roof, where she rested her arms on the railing, her gaze drifting over the city skyline. Y/n followed her, drawn to the quietness of the moment—a rare softness beneath her playful exterior.

“Do you do this often?” Y/n asked, standing beside the short girl.

NingNing glanced at Y/n, her lips quirking upward. “What? Drag strangers through the city for no reason?”

“Something like that.”

Her smile softened, and for a moment, she looked almost shy—almost. “Not really,” she admitted, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just… needed this tonight.”

Y/n understood what she meant without her having to say it aloud. The need to escape, to feel alive, to find a moment that belonged only to you. Y/n leaned her arms on the railing, the silence between them comfortable this time.

“I get it,” Y/n murmured. “Sometimes you need to forget everything else.”

NingNing nodded, her gaze still fixed on the city lights. Then, without warning, she turned toward the tall woman, her expression unreadable. “What if we don’t stop?”

Y/n blinked. “Don’t stop what?”

“This.” She gestured vaguely between the two of them. “What if we just keep going? No rules, no plans. Just… us, until the sun comes up.”

The way she said it—like it was both a challenge and an invitation—sent a thrill down Y/n’s spine. Y/n knew there was something reckless about the idea, but with NingNing looking at her like that, every reason to say no melted away.

“Okay,” Y/n whispered, her voice low but steady. “Let’s do it.”

NingNing’s smile was radiant, a spark of excitement flashing in her eyes. “I knew you’d say yes.”

Before Y/n could say anything else, she closed the distance between them, NingNing’s hands sliding up to cup her face. The kiss that followed was slower than before, but no less intense—a deliberate, lingering exploration that made it clear this wasn’t just about the rush. It was about savoring every second, every breath, every spark between them.

Y/n kissed her back just as slowly, her hands settling on NingNing’s waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. The rooftop, the city, the world—it all faded away, leaving only the two of them tangled together under the night sky.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together. NingNing’s eyes stayed closed for a moment longer as if holding onto the feeling a little longer before the world could intrude again.

“You’re dangerous,” Y/n murmured, brushing her thumb lightly over her cheek.

NingNing smiled, her eyes fluttering open to meet Y/n’s. “I know.”

They both stayed like that for a while—wrapped in the moment, in each other, in the unspoken promise of everything the night still had to offer. There was no need to rush. The sun was still hours away, and the night felt endless.

And somehow, Y/n knew that no matter where the night took them next, she’d follow her—into the fire, into the unknown, into everything and nothing at all. Because with NingNing, the only thing that mattered was now.

——————-

The sky had begun to shift—inky black softening into dark purple, the first signs of dawn creeping along the horizon. The night was slowly slipping away, but neither of them had spoken about it. It was easier to pretend that time didn’t matter when you were still wrapped up in the warmth of each other’s presence.

NingNing leaned against Y/n’s shoulder in the car, her breath soft and steady. The hum of the engine and the quiet city streets felt like a lullaby, making it almost too easy to imagine that the night could last forever. She wasn’t asleep, but she was close—her hand resting lazily on Y/n’s thigh, her fingers tracing absent patterns against the fabric of the taller woman’s pants.

“I don’t want to go back yet,” she murmured, her voice low and drowsy.

Y/n smiled, glancing at NingNing as she turned down a quiet street. “I know.”

NingNing sighed, closing her eyes for a moment as if savoring the last bits of freedom the night had given her. Eventually, she shifted slightly, her fingers tightening around Y/n’s in a quiet goodbye to the wildness of the night.

“They’ll be awake,” she said, half-groaning. “They’ll never let me live this down.”

Y/n chuckled softly. “We can keep driving if you want. Find somewhere else to hide.”

NingNing lifted her head, giving Y/n a playful, tired smile. “Tempting. But I’ll run out of excuses sooner or later.”

Y/n turned into the parking lot of her dorm, the building looming quietly in the early morning light. The parking spot she found was tucked into a corner, almost like it was trying to hide along with them.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The car stays running, the soft thrum of the engine filling the space between them. NingNing gave Y/n a look—half amused, half reluctant—as if she wanted her to be the one to say what came next.

“Well,” Y/n began softly, “we made it through the night.”

She smiled, but it was bittersweet. “Barely.”

Her hand lingered on Y/n’s for another second, as if anchoring herself before she let go. Y/n knew that the moment she stepped out of the car, the magic of the night would dissolve—just another wild, beautiful memory.

“Thanks for… everything,” she said, her voice softer now. There was a vulnerability in the way she looked at Y/n like the NingNing she’d seen on stage was peeling back to reveal something more.

“Anytime,” Y/n whispered. And she meant it.

NingNing hesitated, then leaned in one last time, pressing a kiss to Y/n’s cheek. “You’re dangerous too,” she whispered with a grin before slipping out of the car, leaving the withered woman stunned and breathless.

Y/n watched as she made her way to the entrance, the door to her dorm building illuminated by a faint glow. Just as she was about to punch in the key code, the door swung open—and out stepped Giselle, looking wide awake, with a knowing smirk already forming on her face.

“Well, well,” Giselle drawled, crossing her arms over her chest. “Look who decided to come home.”

NingNing groaned, dragging a hand over her face. “Please, unnie. Don’t start.”

But Giselle wasn’t about to let this one slide. “Who’s the getaway driver?” she asked, peeking over NingNing’s shoulder and spotting you through the windshield. A mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes. “You had a night, didn’t you?”

NingNing shot her a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. “I’m going to bed,” she muttered, brushing past her.

Before NingNing could escape inside, Karina and Winter appeared from around the corner, both of them in hoodies and slippers, clearly having waited up for her.

Winter gave a sleepy yawn but managed a sly grin. “Told you she’d come home with a story.”

Karina tilted her head, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “I didn’t think it’d come with a chauffeur, though.”

NingNing groaned dramatically, throwing her hands in the air. “Can I please get inside without the peanut gallery?”

Giselle smirked, leaning casually against the doorframe. “You can, but you owe us details. Later.”

As the girls giggled and teased her, NingNing shot Y/n a glance through the car window, her eyes sparkling with exhaustion and amusement. She gave the other woman a small wave, mouthing the words, I’ll text you.

Y/n nodded, smiling softly as she watched NingNing disappear inside with her members. Even from the car, she could hear snippets of their playful banter—Karina telling her to “be more discreet next time,” Winter asking if the night was worth the teasing she was about to endure, and Giselle reminding everyone that NingNing’s mischief was long overdue.

The door finally closed behind them, leaving Y/n alone in the stillness of the morning. Y/n sat there for a moment longer, the events of the night replaying in her mind like a film she didn’t want to end.

And as she drove away from the dorm, the first light of dawn creeping over the horizon, she couldn’t stop smiling.

Because somewhere between the crowded club, the stolen kisses, and the quiet moments beneath the city lights, she’d found something with NingNing—something wild, fleeting, and real. And she knew, without a doubt, that if NingNing ever called again, she’d be there in a heartbeat.

The night might be over, but with her, there would always be another. And Y/n couldn’t wait.

Bonus Chapter:

The next morning, NingNing woke up to the sound of her phone buzzing insistently against the pillow beside her. She groaned, squinting at the bright screen. The group chat was blowing up.

Giselle: Good morning, Miss I-Won’t-Regret-Anything.

Winter: So, did you at least kiss them goodbye?

Karina: Still can’t believe we caught you sneaking back in like a rom-com character.

Giselle: Right? If she’d waited two more minutes, we would’ve missed it.

Winter: Timing is everything, babe.

NingNing buried her face in the pillow, groaning loudly. They weren’t going to let this go.

With a sigh, she rolled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The dorm was quiet now—Karina was probably doing yoga, Winter was most likely glued to her phone, and Giselle… well, Giselle was probably planning even more ways to torment NingNing about last night.

She shuffled out of her room and into the kitchen, where Winter was perched on the countertop, scrolling on her phone with an evil grin plastered across her face. As soon as she spotted NingNing, she held the phone up like a trophy.

“You’re a legend, by the way,” Winter said, smirking. “Look at this.”

On the screen was a blurry picture taken from inside the dorm lobby—the exact moment NingNing had stepped out of Y/n’s car.

NingNing groaned, trying to swipe the phone out of Winter’s hands. “Who even took that?!”

Winter dodged her, laughing. “A fan probably. The caption says ‘NingNing spotted arriving home at dawn. New love interest?’ You’re trending, babe.”

“Great,” NingNing muttered sarcastically, running a hand through her hair. “Just what I needed.”

Giselle strutted into the kitchen, still in her pajamas, clearly enjoying every second of NingNing’s misery. “You were practically glowing when you got home. Don’t try to deny it.”

“I was tired,” NingNing shot back, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “Not glowing.”

Karina wandered in next, looking far too zen for someone who had been waiting up just hours ago. She gave NingNing a small, knowing smile. “You should have told us if you were planning a night adventure. We would’ve covered for you.”

NingNing groaned, plopping down at the kitchen table. “You guys are the worst.”

“Oh, come on.” Giselle nudged her playfully. “We’re just happy for you. It’s about time you had some fun.”

Winter’s smirk grew even wider. “So… Are you gonna see them again, or was this a one-night thing?”

NingNing’s cheeks flushed. She hated how easily her members could read her, but there was no point in pretending otherwise. “I don’t know,” she mumbled, fiddling with the cap of her water bottle. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Karina repeated with a teasing lilt. “That’s not the NingNing we saw last night. Where’s the confidence?”

NingNing rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile creeping onto her lips. “Okay, fine. Yes. I’ll probably see her again.”

Giselle clapped her hands together, clearly delighted. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!”

Winter leaned in with a wicked grin. “When you do, tell her to park farther from the dorm next time. We don’t need the whole fandom knowing about your secret rendezvous.”

“Shut up,” NingNing muttered, though she couldn’t help but laugh along with them.

She didn’t mind their teasing—not really. It was all part of their dynamic, and deep down, she knew they were just looking out for her in their chaotic way.

Her phone buzzed again, and she glanced down to see a text from you.

Y/n: Hope you made it through the teasing. Miss me yet?

NingNing bit her lip, trying to hide the smile that spread across her face. She typed back quickly.

NingNing: Not sure yet. Might need another night to decide.

As soon as she hit send, she felt the familiar thrill creep back into her chest. The night might have been over, but this thing between them? It was just getting started.

Winter caught the look on NingNing’s face and gave her a smug grin. “Yup. She’s gone.”

Giselle high-fived her from across the kitchen. “We called it.”

Karina just smiled knowingly. “You’d better bring snacks next time, though. That’s the tax for making us worry all night.”

NingNing laughed, rolling her eyes. “You guys are impossible.”

But she didn’t mind. With her members by her side—and the promise of another wild night on the horizon—NingNing felt lighter, freer, and more herself than she had in a long time.

And she couldn’t wait to see where the next adventure with you would take her.

———————

Days passed, but the buzz from that night lingered in the back of NingNing’s mind. The stolen moments, the thrill of the unknown, and the way Y/n’s hand fit perfectly in hers replayed like a favorite song on repeat. She’d catch herself smiling for no reason, lost in the memory, only to be pulled back to reality by teasing glances from the other girls.

Her phone chimed again as she scrolled through messages during a rare free afternoon.

Y/n: What are you doing tonight?

The corners of her lips tugged upward, and without thinking, she replied.

NingNing: Depends. Are we doing something stupid?

Y/n responded almost instantly.

Y/n: Of course. Wouldn’t have it any other way.

She bit her lip, excitement bubbling under her skin.

Y/n: I’ll be there at midnight. Same place.

NingNing knew she was in trouble. The smart thing would’ve been to stay in, get some rest—maybe catch up on some sleep.

——————-

The smart thing would’ve been to stay in, but NingNing wasn’t looking for smart—she was looking for Y/n. And as midnight approached, her heart raced at the thought of whatever the other woman had planned this time.

By 11:30, she was already dressed. She kept it simple: an oversized hoodie, ripped jeans, and a black baseball cap to keep things low-key. As she laced up her sneakers, Giselle popped her head into NingNing’s room, raising an eyebrow.

“Midnight adventure again?” Giselle asked, smirking.

NingNing shot her a playful glare. “Don’t start.”

Giselle leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, thoroughly enjoying the show. “You could at least pretend you’re sneaking out. It’s way more fun that way.”

NingNing rolled her eyes, tugging her cap lower over her face. “You guys are like evil siblings.”

“Just looking out for you,” Giselle said with a grin. “Try not to get caught by fans this time, yeah?”

“No promises.” NingNing grabbed her phone and slipped it into her hoodie pocket. “And don’t wait up.”

She padded through the dorm, careful not to wake Karina and Winter, who were sprawled across the couch in their pajamas, watching a drama half-asleep. Karina gave a sleepy wave as NingNing passed. “Be safe,” she mumbled, not even bothering to ask where she was going.

NingNing slipped out of the building just as Y/n’s car pulled into the parking lot. The sight of Y/n waiting there sent a shiver of excitement through her. She jogged over and opened the passenger door, sliding in with a grin.

“You’re early,” she teased, clicking her seatbelt.

Y/n gave her a playful look. “So are you.”

The engine purred to life as Y/n pulled out of the lot, the city lights blurring in the distance. “I figured we could keep it simple tonight,” she said, her voice warm in the quiet of the car. “I know a spot. Thought you might like it.”

“Simple?” NingNing repeated, arching a brow. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

Y/n smirked. “Don’t worry. It’s still dangerous enough.”

The roads were quieter than usual, the streets glowing with the muted amber of streetlights. With the windows cracked just enough to let the cool night air sweep in, NingNing closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the calm that only seemed to come when she was with Y/n.

“So, where are we going?” she asked after a few minutes, her voice light with curiosity.

Y/n glanced over at NingNing briefly, her expression unreadable. “You’ll see.”

There was something about the way she said it—like a promise, soft and full of possibility—that made NingNing’s heart race. She didn’t ask again. She was content to let Y/n lead, the same way she’d been content to follow Y/n through the night last time.

Eventually, Y/n pulled onto a winding road that led to a secluded hill overlooking the city. When the car stopped, NingNing leaned forward, taking in the view. The city stretched out below, shimmering with lights that flickered like stars. It was breathtaking, quiet, and private—the kind of place that felt like it belonged to the two of them alone.

“Wow,” NingNing whispered, her breath catching slightly.

Y/n smiled, pleased with her reaction. “Figured you’d like it.”

NingNing unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out of the car, walking toward the edge of the hill. The breeze tugged gently at her hoodie as she stood there, taking it all in.

Y/n joined her, her shoulder brushing against the Chinese idol. For a moment, neither of them spoke content in the shared silence. It felt like they had found a pocket of the world untouched by time—just the two of them beneath the stars, with nothing to interrupt the moment.

“This,” NingNing said softly, “is perfect.”

Y/n turned to her, her gaze lingering on the curve of her smile. “You’re perfect.”

NingNing looked up at Y/n, her expression caught between surprise and amusement. “Smooth.”

Y/n grinned. “Had to try.”

NingNing shook her head, but there was no hiding the warmth in her eyes. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Anything you want,” the tall woman whispered, her voice low, intimate.

NingNing’s breath hitched slightly, the tension between them crackling like electricity. And just like before, the world around Y/n melted away as NingNing leaned in, closing the distance between them.

The kiss was slow and sweet, filled with everything the night couldn’t put into words. Her hands slid up to Y/n’s neck, fingers tangling in her hair as Y/n pulled her closer, holding on like the moment might slip through her fingers if she let go.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the cool night air.

“This feels dangerous,” NingNing whispered, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Y/n chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Good. I was hoping it would.”

The two of them stood there for a while longer, the city lights twinkling below like tiny promises waiting to be kept. Neither of them was in a hurry to leave.

Eventually, NingNing sighed, though her smile remained. “If I sneak back in and the girls catch me again, they’re never going to let this go.”

Y/n smirked. “Worth it?”

NingNing laughed quietly, the sound soft and warm. “Yeah. Worth it.”

And at that moment, under the stars with Y/n by her side, NingNing knew she’d follow this feeling wherever it took her—no matter how many teasing texts or blurry fan photos came with it.

Because some things, she realized, were just too good to resist. And this—whatever this was—was one of them.

———————-

The night stretched on, the kind of night that makes you forget morning even exists. Y/n and NingNing stayed on that hill far longer than they should have, talking, laughing, and stealing kisses under the stars. But eventually, the weight of reality crept in. It was getting late—or early— and they both knew it was time to head back before the city woke up and prying eyes made things complicated.

The drive back to the dorms was filled with soft music and stolen glances. NingNing rested her hand on Y/n’s as the latter drove, her thumb lazily tracing circles along her skin. Every touch from her felt like a promise— one that the night wasn’t quite over yet.

By the time Y/n pulled into the dorm parking lot, the sky was still dark, save for a faint purple hue at the horizon’s edge. Y/n parked close to the entrance, the glow from the building’s lights casting long shadows over the car.

As she cut the engine, neither of them made a move to get out. NingNing shifted in her seat to face Y/n, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I should probably go,” she whispered, though her body language said the opposite.

Y/n grinned, leaning closer. “Probably.”

She didn’t move. Neither did Y/n.

And then, as if on cue, the space between them vanished. NingNing leaned in, her lips meeting Y/n’s in a slow, lingering kiss— one that was filled with all the things neither of them had said aloud. Y/n’s hand found its way to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as NingNing’s fingers curled into the fabric of Y/n’s hoodie.

“I really should go,” the short girl murmured against Y/n’s lips, though she did not attempt to leave.

“Mm-hmm,” the tall woman whispered back, capturing NingNing’s mouth again in a way that made her giggle softly.

The moment unraveled, becoming less of a goodbye and more of a final, stolen indulgence. NingNing shifted, and before either of them could stop it, she was pressed against the side of the car, Y/n’s hands on her waist as the tall woman kissed her deeper. NingNing responded eagerly, her body arching into Y/n’s, lost in the heat and thrill of the moment.

That’s when it happened.

The sound of the front door creaking open— loud and unmistakable in the still night air.

“Oh, my God!”

They both froze, their lips still inches apart, caught red-handed— or more accurately, red-lipped. Slowly, they turned to the source of the voice.

There they were: Giselle, Karina, and Winter, standing in the doorway in various states of sleepwear. Giselle had her phone out, already pointing it at the two of you like she was recording a scene from a reality show. Winter looked half-awake, a sleepy grin spreading across her face, while Karina just folded her arms with an amused, knowing expression.

“Oh, no,” NingNing muttered under her breath, her cheeks burning as she buried her face against Y/n’s chest.

“Don’t stop on our account,” Giselle said, trying— and failing— to stifle her laughter. “We were enjoying the show.”

“You guys,” NingNing groaned, still hiding her face. “Please tell me this is a bad dream.”

Winter yawned, leaning against the doorframe. “Nope. Very real. And very entertaining.”

Karina arched a brow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “You know the front door has cameras, right?”

NingNing pulled back just enough to glare at her members, though she was still pressed close against Y/n. “ I hate you all.”

“You love us,” Giselle sang, clearly delighted by the situation.

Y/n tried to keep her composure, but it was hard not to laugh along with them. “So…this is awkward.”

“Awkward for you.” Giselle quipped. “Hilarious, for us.”

NingNing groaned again, giving Y/n a look that said, This is your fault too. But the other woman could see the sparkle in her eyes— she was embarrassed, sure, but she was also fighting back laughter.

Karina, ever the responsible leader, finally stepped in. “Alright, alright. Let’s get inside before someone does see and post this.” She gave NingNing a teasing smile. “We’ll save the interrogation for later.”

As the other girls headed back inside— still chuckling and whispering— NingNing turned back to Y/n, her face still flushed.

“Well,” she said with a rueful grin. “ that was a disaster.”

Y/n grinned, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “ Not entirely. I’d say it was worth it.

NingNing rolled her eyes, but the smile on her lips was undeniable. “ You’re unbelievable.”

Y/n leaned in one last time, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “Text me when you’re done getting roasted.”

“Better believe I will,” NingNing muttered with a playful grin, slipping out of Y/n’s grasp.

As she jogged toward the entrance, Giselle called back over her shoulder, “Goodnight, lovebirds! Or should I say, good morning?”

NingNing shot Y/n one last glance, her smile lingering even as she shook her head in mock exasperation.

And as the door swung shut behind her, leaving Y/n alone in the parking lot, she couldn’t help but laugh. Because even if the night didn’t end as quietly as she’d planned, it was still perfect in its own chaotic, ridiculous way.

And something told her there’d be many more nights like this to come.

[gottencents]

S&M - Jennie Kim

love hangover masterlist. main masterlist. navi.

pairing. katseye!oc x jennie kim

synopsis. After a night of teasing on the dance floor, Jennie and Tatum’s flirtation escalates into a heated, magnetic encounter that leaves the entire club forgotten.

The music pulsed through the club like a heartbeat, heavy and all-consuming. The bassline throbbed in Tatum’s chest, reverberating through her ribcage as she moved to the beat, her limbs fluid and loose from the drinks she’d had earlier.

The room was alive with flashing lights—neon reds and electric blues slicing through the dark haze, bouncing off the glassy bar top and reflecting in the clusters of sweating bodies.

Tatum was lost in the rhythm, a carefree grin tugging at her lips as she danced with her friends. Her hair was slightly damp from the heat of the crowd, and her skin was slick with a thin sheen of sweat, but she didn’t care.

She felt good—light and loose, the alcohol creating a pleasant buzz in her veins.Daniela grabbed her hand, twirling her around with a loud laugh.

“Okay, okay, I need a break,” Daniela panted, fanning herself dramatically.

“But you? You’re a machine.”Tatum let out a breathless laugh, brushing her damp hair back.

“Lightweight,” she teased, nudging Daniela’s shoulder. Manon came over, slinging an arm around Tatum’s neck.

“You’re keeping the party alive, babe.”Tatum smirked, looping her arms around Manon’s waist, and the two of them started moving together. The club’s heat made their skin stick slightly, but the music drowned everything else out. The crowd pressed closer, bodies moving as one, the world shrinking down to the thumping bass and the hypnotic rhythm.

Tatum’s eyes were half-lidded, her head tilted back slightly as she let herself get lost in the music. Her movements were languid, fluid, hips rolling slowly to the beat. She barely noticed when Manon stepped away to get a drink—too lost in her own rhythm to care.But she did notice when someone new pressed up behind her.

The touch was light at first—a gentle brush of fingers against her hip. But then it became more deliberate, the hand settling there with firm confidence. Tatum’s eyes flickered open slightly, the hazy swirl of bodies around her snapping into focus.

She was about to turn around, assuming it was one of her friends messing with her—until she felt the unmistakable warmth of lips ghosting just behind her ear.

“Hey, stranger.”The voice was low, velvety, and immediately familiar. The breath fanned against Tatum’s skin, sending a faint shiver down her spine.

Jennie.

Tatum froze for half a second—just long enough for her breath to catch slightly in her throat. And then she felt Jennie’s fingers splay against her waist, the pads of her fingertips barely brushing the sliver of skin exposed beneath her cropped top.Before Tatum could turn around, Jennie’s body was already flush against her back.Tatum’s heart stumbled slightly, but her body responded on instinct.

Her hands lifted slightly as Jennie’s hips pressed firmly into hers, guiding her into the rhythm.For a moment, Tatum’s eyes fluttered shut. The heat of Jennie’s body pressed against her back was almost dizzying.

What the hell is she doing?

But before she could properly form the thought, Jennie’s hands began to wander. Her fingers slid slowly over Tatum’s hips, lingering briefly at the waistband of her jeans before gliding upward. Her hands pressed against Tatum’s stomach, fingertips dragging lightly across the taut skin as they slid higher—slowly, deliberately, teasingly.Tatum’s breath hitched softly.

Her head tipped back slightly, the barest gasp catching in her throat when Jennie’s fingers skimmed beneath the edge of her top, palms warm and flat against her abdomen.

“Relax,” Jennie murmured softly, her lips brushing just below Tatum’s ear. Her voice was low, almost syrupy.

“You’re too stiff.”Her tone was playful, but there was a wicked edge to it—a deliberate slowness in the way her hands roamed.And then, as the beat shifted, Jennie’s hips rolled smoothly against Tatum’s, her body fitting perfectly against her back.

Tatum’s fingers twitched slightly at her sides, unsure whether she wanted to grab Jennie’s hands or let them roam freely.But then Jennie moved again—slow, deliberate. Her body molded into Tatum’s as she began to grind against her in time with the music, her hips rolling in slow, sinuous circles.

A quiet gasp caught in Tatum’s throat. Her hands instinctively dropped to Jennie’s thighs, gripping lightly as Jennie’s movements pressed her even closer.

The crowd melted away.

The flashing lights, the music, the mass of people—it all faded into a dull, meaningless blur. All Tatum could feel was Jennie—the heat of her body, the soft exhale of her breath against her neck, the firm press of her hands trailing along her stomach, tracing slow, teasing patterns as she ground against her. Jennie let out a soft hum of approval against Tatum’s skin, her lips brushing her ear as she grinned faintly.

“You always this shy on the dance floor?” Jennie teased, her voice barely audible over the music.Her fingers trailed upward again, featherlight and slow, grazing the undersides of Tatum’s ribs, fingertips barely skimming the curve of her waist.

Tatum’s head tipped back slightly, eyes half-lidded, her breath coming out uneven. She was only vaguely aware of the way her hands were gripping Jennie’s thighs tighter now, nails lightly digging into the fabric of her pants. The wicked grin against her neck widened.

“Thought you could handle yourself,” Jennie teased softly, her voice low, sultry, and entirely too pleased.

Tatum’s eyes snapped open slightly, her competitive streak sparking in her chest. Her lips parted, and before she could think twice, she let her hand slide down Jennie’s thigh, her fingertips tracing a slow, deliberate line back up to her hip. Her fingers flexed slightly, gripping Jennie’s waist with newfound boldness.

“Oh, I can handle myself just fine,” Tatum shot back, her voice low and raspy, barely above the music.Jennie’s breath caught faintly at the sudden shift—the change in Tatum’s tone. Her fingers tightened slightly against Tatum’s stomach, but she recovered quickly. She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against the shell of Tatum’s ear.

“Yeah?” she murmured softly, her voice a little breathier this time.

“Prove it.”And so she did.

Tatum turned in Jennie’s hold, their faces now barely inches apart. The world around them blurred into a dim haze—the neon lights casting shifting colors over their skin, the music pounding faintly in their ears. But they weren’t looking at the crowd.

They were only looking at each other.And Tatum, her lips barely brushing against Jennie’s, smirked faintly.

“You asked for it,” she murmured—low, teasing, and just a little wicked.And then she grabbed Jennie by the hips and pulled her closer.The moment Tatum pulled Jennie closer, everything else in the club faded into static.

The music, the flashing lights, the sea of bodies moving around them—it all blurred into the background, meaningless and far away.It was just them now.Jennie’s breath hitched slightly at the sudden tug, her eyes darkening with something dangerous and playful as her hips snapped flush against Tatum’s.

Her hands found their place—one gripping Tatum’s waist, the other sliding around to the small of her back, keeping her locked in place.Tatum’s heart stuttered. For half a second, she forgot how to breathe.

Jennie’s lips were so close that Tatum could feel her breath against her mouth—warm and heady, still tasting faintly of the tequila shots they’d downed earlier. Her eyes flicked down briefly, tracing the faint curve of Jennie’s bottom lip, watching the subtle twitch of her smirk.

Jennie’s eyes—heavy-lidded and dark with teasing satisfaction—flickered over Tatum’s face, her fingers tightening ever so slightly against her waist.

“Mm.” Jennie hummed lowly, her voice like velvet—slow, deliberate, and entirely too pleased with herself. Her lips curved into a slow, dangerous smirk.

“What’s the matter?” she teased, her voice barely louder than the thrum of the bass.

“Getting shy on me already?”Tatum’s breath caught, but she bit down hard on her own hesitation.

The slow grin tugging at Jennie’s lips—the barely-there challenge glimmering in her eyes—lit a spark in Tatum’s chest.Oh, you think you’re funny.With a low smirk, Tatum slid her hands down the curve of Jennie’s waist, her fingers pressing deliberately into the fabric of her pants before slipping lower, gripping the top of her thighs. The move was subtle, but Jennie’s body immediately responded—her breath hitching ever so slightly, her hold on Tatum tightening.

Tatum’s lips parted faintly, her voice low and teasing.“Shy?” she rasped softly, leaning in just enough for her lips to graze the corner of Jennie’s mouth, the briefest brush of warmth. Her fingers flexed against Jennie’s thighs, pulling her in closer.

“Not a chance.”Jennie’s eyes flashed with something wicked. And then she moved. Without missing a beat, Jennie’s grip shifted—her hand sliding up Tatum’s back, fingers splaying possessively between her shoulder blades. She tugged Tatum flush against her, her hips rolling with deliberate slowness into Tatum’s.

Tatum sucked in a sharp breath, the sensation sending a hot pulse through her veins. Her hands instinctively tightened around Jennie’s thighs, nails pressing slightly into the fabric.Jennie’s smirk widened.

“Oh?” she taunted, her voice barely above a breath.

Her lips brushed against Tatum’s jaw as she leaned in, her voice sultry and syrup-slow.

“Then why are you holding on so tight?”Her words were nothing more than a breath against Tatum’s skin—low, teasing, and absolutely wrecking.Tatum’s lips parted, a soft exhale catching in her throat.

Her eyes fluttered briefly as Jennie’s hands moved again—sliding over her back, fingertips trailing along the sliver of exposed skin at her waist. The slow drag of Jennie’s hands, her hips moving in deliberate, sinuous circles against Tatum’s, made the whole club feel hotter.It was becoming impossible to think—impossible to breathe properly with Jennie moving against her like this.

And Jennie knew it.Her mouth curved into a slow, wicked smile as she leaned in closer.

Her lips brushed against the curve of Tatum’s jaw—just barely, the softest featherlight touch—before she dragged them down, tracing a slow line along the side of her neck. Tatum let out a faint, shaky exhale, her hands involuntarily gripping tighter against Jennie’s thighs, holding her in place. Jennie’s smirk pressed into her skin.

“You’re holding back,” Jennie purred softly, her breath warm and teasing against Tatum’s ear.

“Why?”Her tone was low, barely audible over the bass thundering through the club, but the challenge was unmistakable.

And Tatum?

She was done playing around.With a sharp exhale, she slid her hands up Jennie’s sides—slowly at first, fingertips tracing along her waist, dragging over the fabric of her top. And then, with deliberate boldness, she gripped Jennie’s hips firmly and turned them, spinning them both so that Jennie was now the one pinned against the wall.

The move was swift, fluid, and entirely unhesitant. Jennie’s back hit the wall with a soft thud, and for the briefest moment, she let out a breathless little laugh of surprise.But before she could say anything, Tatum leaned in—so close that their noses brushed. Her lips hovered barely a breath away from Jennie’s, close enough to make her gasp softly.

“Still think I’m holding back?” Tatum rasped, her voice low and rough with teasing defiance.

Jennie’s breath faltered slightly. Her lips parted faintly, her smirk faltering for half a second.And that half-second was all it took.Without waiting, Tatum closed the distance.Their mouths collided in a slow, heated kiss—neither rushed nor hesitant. Jennie’s lips parted immediately, sighing softly against Tatum’s mouth as their bodies pressed flush together.

The club was still loud, the bass pounding, the lights flashing, but neither of them noticed.

Jennie’s hands found their way to the back of Tatum’s neck, fingers slipping into her hair as she tugged her in closer. She angled her head slightly, deepening the kiss, her mouth soft and warm against Tatum’s.

Tatum’s fingers gripped tighter against Jennie’s hips, holding her firmly in place as she kissed her again—slower this time, lingering, her tongue barely grazing Jennie’s bottom lip before slipping past.

Jennie let out the faintest, breathless whimper into her mouth, her hands tightening in Tatum’s hair.The sound only spurred Tatum on. She shifted slightly, pressing Jennie harder against the wall, one hand sliding lower to grip her thigh and hitch it around her waist.

Jennie’s lips parted again in a soft gasp, and Tatum took the opportunity to deepen the kiss further, her hand squeezing slightly against the bare skin of Jennie’s thigh.And then Jennie smiled against her mouth—a slow, dangerous grin. Her hands fisted in Tatum’s hair, tugging her closer.

“Not so shy after all,” Jennie breathed, her lips curving into a wicked smile against Tatum’s.Tatum smirked faintly, brushing her lips against Jennie’s one last time before murmuring lowly against her mouth, her voice barely above a breath.

“Told you.”

taglist [OPEN] : @multiliker @goofymickeyr @yuyuy90 @hydrardz @wtfisthisnoclueman @reiiaokii @somedaydream @yjiminswallet @inejghafawifesblog @jaythegirlkisser @xochitlisbest @1800hotnfunn @awkwardtoafault @linnnsworld @the-eaglebearer

[kittydoodle]

[ID: 3 drawings of a tan skinned person with bright blue scene hair in various rave outfits featuring huge pants. First, she's sitting and making a heart with his hands, in a neon pink and purple outfit. Second is him dancing in a black, pink, and green fit, with a purple shirt with Gir from Invader Zim on it. Third, she's dancing in a light pink and purple fit, with a smiley belt chain, blue and white tail, and crop top that says, "fag" on it. The background is a rainbow gradient with various doodles such as smileys, the words, "Luvrboy" and "Luvr," and random shapes. End ID.]

my awesome headmate btw (she/he)

[chez-cinnamon]

Regarding the clothes ask what style of clothes would you think everyone would naturally lean towards?

I’ll probably get to sketching them at some point but:

- Pomni leans towards a mix of casual and elegant, depending on what the event of the day calls for; if it’s a more casual day like hanging out in the bedrooms or going out to the carnival or lake, she opts for vivid primary colours (with purple accents to represent Kinger lol), shirts/sweaters with big puffy sleeves, comfy pants and butterfly shaped ribbons. She also sometimes just wears her jester hat as if it were hair bc she thinks it’s funny sometimes. When the day calls for something more elegant and regal, she likes to wear smoking suits, lots of dark purple fabric to accent red, blue and white accessories or pants, hair often styled into braids or buns. She gravitates more to feminine suits than dresses. She also has a liking towards leotards due to how freeing movements are.

- Kinger and Queenie are more traditional with regal aesthetics. Kinger’s wardrobe is more samey with frilly boleros, elegant corsets and waistcoats, fancy tight pants that are still good enough to run around in, even some knight armour thrown in sometimes, all in different shades of purple. Queenie’s wardrobe is full of various elegant dresses and smoking suits, more modern and complementary to her figure, a lot of florals, tight around the legs, as well as leotards to match Pomni, all in red. They both share lots of golden accents and accessories, and they both have some more casual clothes and gardening attire.

- Caine’s wardrobe is always growing, as he’s starting to learn a more casual style. He loves his basic red and yellow ringmaster look and the variations he has, but he enjoys cozier clothes on slower days. He likes sweaters, sweater vests, dress shirts, cardigans and slippers, he loves feeling cozy!! But he shares similar tastes to Kinger as well.

- I HC Ragatha as being a farm girl before she got sucked into TADC, so a lot of her outfits are very inspired by cottagecore and farmer’s girl outfits: flowy dresses, summer hats, floral shirt tied up into a crop top, the whole nine yards. She likes a lot of her outfits in pastel blues, covered in patchwork of all sorts.

- Jax likes 2000s casual fashion and streetwear. Think the skater boy next door: dirty sneakers, graphic tee over a long sleeve white shirt, baggy pants with chains on, beanies and necklaces. He also likes a lot of hoodies and sweatpants, all in purples, pinks and yellows.

- Gangle gives off big ballet girl vibes with a mix of Japanese subcultures. Oversized shirts to wear as dresses, jackets that look way too big on her, outfits akin to ballet attire, lots of ribbons and pastels mixed with neon colours. I also HC Gangle as genderfluid, bc I love how masc she looked in the Japanese TADC cafe advert, so I can see her in blockier clothes like her attire from that ad but still retaining that ballet/kawaii vibe. Also a fun fact about GM!Gangle’s outfits is that a lot of them are long pieces of ribbon that can attach to the back of her mask and wrap around her to form a more solid body and outfits, but she still wears regular clothing bc it’s not really warm only wearing ribbons.

- Zooble is a HUGE fan of scenecore aesthetics, as well as emo culture and maximalist fashion. Like with their Zooble parts, anything can go; they like to layer clothes, clash patterns, customise their parts with mementos from adventures, create hair-like extensions to wear on their head. They don’t have any colour preferences, they accept anything lol

[bittersweetcreep]

Bring You Home Chapter 2 Part 2 Yandere! Batfamily x Wayne Daughter! Oc

Ch.1 Ch.2 Part 1

Stepping out of Gotham's Cozy Corner, Martha led the way to Paws & Claws. As they walked together in silence, Bruce opted to look down to his daughter once more to really take in her appearance. He still can't believe how his daughter looks so much like his mother with her facial features, distinct blue ombré eyes, and now in sunlight, he could see she also has her light and flawless porcelain skin. If it wasn't for the fact Martha dyed her hair, she would have completely looked like his mother, but Bruce doesn't mind. Don't get him wrong, he would love to see her creamy blonde hair, but Martha's black to white ombré looks fantastic, and the way it's styled in low braided pigtails suit her well. And that black beret on her head looks really nice on her, especially with that gold four pointed star charm attached to it. She's even carrying a matching black messenger bag with a gold four pointed star clasp. Both accessories compliment her outfit well too, which is comprised of a small black long sleeve top with a pattern made up of light neon blue hearts with white lines connecting them together forming a repeated diamond shape pattern. Over that is a white spaghetti crop top with another gold four pointed star charm resting on the trim in the middle of her chest. On her lower half is a simple pair of light blue jeans and black lace-up ankle boots. Bruce has got to admit she's got style.

"Do you usually wear that outfit?" Glancing down at herself, Martha then looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Yes, I guess you can say this is my main outfit. Why?" "It suits you well." Her cheeks redden at his flattery, and it was only polite to return the gesture. "Thank you. Your eyes suit you as well." Bruce couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. "Thanks, I got them from your grandfather."

Walking and talking together in town was really nice, relaxing even, especially because the weather is really nice at least to Gotham's standards, maybe they can do it again some other time. Just somewhere more private were she doesn't feel eyes on them. She usually doesn't gather much attention unless it's some guy creeping on her but with Bruce at her side all eyes were on them, she even noticed some pulled out their phones. This was something new and a little nerve-wracking but she didn't dare show it. A couple streets down and they made it to their stop. "This place is really close to the café, is that why you picked it?" Bruce stated the obvious. "Yes but it's also close to my martial arts and swordsmanship lessons too. Although my school is a little further from here but still relatively close." Bruce kept that bit of information in his back pocket.

They stood outside of a large modern style building made of glass with a storefront sign dubbing the building as Paws & Claws Doggy Care. Looking at this building Bruce thought of all the good things he's heard of the place but his paranoid self is re-analyzing every bit of information of this place for Lady's sake. Looking at his face Martha notice Bruce was analyzing the daycare which made her happy at the thought he was concern for Lady's safety so to put his mind at ease she explained. "I did alot of sleuthing to make sure Lady will be taken care and believe me I take great pride in my sleuthing skills." That seem to reassure him for now so without wasting any more time they went inside to get Lady.

Being a regular Martha has never seen the receptionist so jumpy before, 'Dose Bruce have this effect on everyone?' But that thought was thrown aside when the door was opened by a staff member who brought out Lady. Lady was on a leash but the moment she was free she happily trotted towards them with a pep in her step. Dropping to her knees Martha opened her arms out welcoming Lady in a hug as said dog licks her owner's face in affection. The display of affection between owner and pet was such a adorable display so of course Bruce recorded the whole thing. This didn't go unnoticed but Martha didn't mind as this will be the first video he has of her so she'll let the man have this.

"Do you mind if I send this to your brothers?" To which Martha gave her permission but also asked if he can tell them she said hi. Of course he would be happy to tell them and when he did he got a response immediately.

Dick: Awww~ now that's adorable! Tell her we said hi! Man, I wish I was in Gotham to meet my baby sister!

Jason: You're not wrong that shit's adorable, but you seem way more excited to meet Martha.

Tim: Believe me when I say he has always wanted a sister, don't think I haven't seen your Pinterest board Dick.

Dick: It's been my dream to have a sister, so can you blame me? And besides that our Martha was a gymnastics girl too! Btw thanks Tim for that bit of info.

Tim: No problem

Damian: I'm still displeased with you father. You know I've been wanting to meet my sister yet you still left without me.

Jason: He only did that so you don't scare her off.

Damian: What's that suppose to mean Todd.

Bruce put his phone in his pocket as he can feel the on coming headache. 'Those boys are giving me grey hairs.' His thoughts were interrupted by a concern voice. "Bruce, is everything alright?" Looking down at blue eyes Bruce could feel the exhaustion fading away. "Just your brothers being brothers. They also said hi." She gave him a nod of understanding. Bruce kneeled down to get a closer look at Lady who turned her attention to him. "So you're the famous Lady I've been hearing all about. It's nice to finally meet you." He was given a lick of approval. While Bruce was preoccupied with giving Lady pats and affection Martha could feel her phone buzzing in her bag. Taking it out she saw a text from her mom asking where she is. She explained the whole situation and that the ravenette wanted to talk with her to which her mom texted she'll be waiting for them.

After putting her phone back into her bag the ombrénette then stood up. "My mom knows you're with me and said she'll be waiting for us." Bruce was annoyed that women was trying to rush them but got up from the ground anyways. With a purely white smile he's learned to fake he motioned for them to leave as they shouldn't keep her waiting. As they exit the building they made their journey to Martha's neighborhood which will take some time as it's further away from their location.

As they walked together with Lady leading the charge Martha decided now was the perfect time to ask about her brothers. "Back at the café you were questioning me about my family, my I do the same?" Bruce was more then happy to tell Martha about her siblings. "I'd be more then happy to tell you about your brothers. Let's see here, how about we start from eldest to youngest. If that's alright with you?" Martha nodded her head in approval. "Ok then the eldest would be Richard or as we call him Dick." Martha made a face. "I think I'll stick with calling him Richard" The ravenette let out a laugh before he continued. "He's 26 now but I took him in when he was 12 when his parents died during their performance." Martha's face turned sympathetic. "The tragedy of Haley's Circus." He gave her a nod. "The poor boy's grieving left him catatonic for a long time, thankfully he was able to move past his grief and find closure within himself." Martha had this far away look like she couldn't believe what she was being told, meaning Dick's little plan worked. You see Dick thought he could use his background as a springboard to create a sympathetic connection within her so even though he isn't there he'll always be on her mind. Bruce was impressed by his son's tactic but he needed to brighten up the mood before she stopped asking about her family. "As a kid Dick liked to use the mansion as his personal gymnasium. I still remember the first time he got on to the chandelier, boy almost gave me a heart attack." "Well if it helps you feel better mom has a video of me sitting on top of a 10 story hospital." Bruce paused for a moment, he must be hearing her wrong because he thought he heard she said she sat on top of a 10 story hospital. Martha couldn't help her lips from curling up in a playful smile as she teasingly repeated what she said. "You heard me right, I sat on top of a 10 story hospital." 'Change subject! Change subject!' "As you can tell Richard loves doing gymnastics I could almost say he's a fanatic as he likes doing random handstands all the time." It was clear Bruce was trying to change the subject which was super funny but for Bruce's sake she let it slide which he was grateful for.

"Besides gymnastics Dick also likes trying out hairstyling, makeup and cosmetics that he either practices on himself or on a mannequin head. Although I'm sure you've seen his Instagram." The blue eye ombrénette gave a affirmative nod as she herself has come across the male's glam makeup posts and if she must say he's pretty good at his craft. "He has practice these skills ever since he was a boy hoping one day he'll have a sister to doll up. So when he was told he has a little sister he was over the moon and started making plans to come down to meet you." This surprised Martha, she never knew Richard wanted a sister as he doesn't show it in media or in interviews. "I hope I don't disappoint." With a reassuring hand on her shoulder Bruce gave her a soft smile. "Oh Martha he already loves you

That got the girl right in the feels. "I believe Jason is next." Bruce fumbled for a minute wondering how she knew about Jason but remembered Jason was no longer declared as dead anymore and he just had a public appearances too, heck he was at a gala a few weeks ago. "Right, well he's 20 but I took him in when he was 11 after he tried to steal the tires off my car." Bruce smiled at the memory while Martha giggled because that's so Jason.

"Besides the attempted theft Jason was a down-to-earth kid who really enjoyed theater and literature. Even now whenever he comes over to the manor I always catch him sitting by the libraries fireplace reading a book." 'Now that sounds like a good Saturday evening' Martha hummed to herself. " I remember the time i took him to see Hamlet and he really loved it. That play actually got him into theater or as you kid's say transform him into a theater kid." Of course Martha already knew Jason's love for theater and literature, Jason even invite her to go see Kings of War together. It's probably where he got his theatrics from. She wondered if they filmed any of Jason's plays? He did say he went to Gotham Academy so maybe with how prestigious the school is they had it professionally filmed? A girl could hope, or maybe ask. "Do you have any records?" Bruce gave a affirmative nod. "If you're ever interested in seeing one of his plays you can come over as we have recorded DVD's of every play he had ever performed in that you can watch anytime." This seem to really peaked Martha's interests and if Bruce was being honest he was really looking forward to the day he could pull out one of Jason's DVDs and watch it together with her and Jason. [if he could convince him of course]

"Then there's my third oldest Timothy although we call him Tim. He's 16 and if I'm not mistaken that makes him a year older then you." Martha never really had anyone around her age to interact with, not even friends as she has a busy life. So hearing she has a brother around her age sounded nice. "He's been training to be co-ceo of Wayne Enterprises, although he won't get the position until he's older. But the boy is studying hard, although he does most of his studying in the night away in his rooom." Bruce wasn't lying either. After Tim found out he has a sister he moved all his daytime studying and detective work to the nightshift, so when Martha comes over he isn't engrossing himself into work. Which is working wonders as Tim isn't cooped up in his bedroom all the time, but the only downside. "He sounds like a insomniac." Bruce gave a exhausted smile. 'Looks like I hit the nail on the head.'

"Besides your brother's sleep schedule he loves solving puzzles and those unsolved case file games. Anything that gets his brain going." "Dose he have any favorites?"

Martha asked. "That would be chess and sudoku. He has this really nice glass chess set and a deluxe wood sudoku board that he loves to pieces. I've also seen him fiddling with small brain teaser puzzles as well." 'So he likes board games?' Martha had new found hope for a new player. Bruce noticed the skip in her step before the ombrénette asked "What does he think about Go or Xiangqi?" Bruce remembered seeing quite a few post of her playing either game. Both Tim and Damian seem intrigued. "He hasn't played either before but he's very much interested in playing with you, Damian too. You should bring them with you when you come tomorrow, they'll happily play with you." Those ombré blue eyes lit up in joy. "I would love to! I can't wait!." Martha's smile was one of the brightest things Bruce has seen. 'If Tim was here he would taken her photo.' That thought reminded him of Tim's hobby. "Another thing Timothy loves to do is photography and from the few photos he's willing to show us he's really talented. Although he's really shy about it." "I don't blame him, not everyone has confidence in their talent. I too don't have confidence showing anyone my designs, so I know the feeling." The thought of Martha and Tim building up each other's confidence to show the family their talents together warms his heart. Tim proudly showing off his photo album and Martha explaining her designs and telling them her inspiration, which makes Bruce wonders what kind of designs Martha does. Fashion? Interior? Animation? His thoughts were interrupted by said girl's voice. "What kind of camera does he use? Or does he just his phone?" He put that thought on hold infavor of answering her question. "He uses a instax mini evo instant camera." "Ooh~ a great choice. I like how they are designed with a vintage look and how they can instantly print photos too." Bruce affectionately patted her head to which the ombrénette soaked up. "Tim would be glad to hear that."

"And finally your younger brother Damian." Before Bruce could speak Martha piped up. "You didn't tell me how you adopted Tim, unless he's my biological brother too." "Thanks for reminding me I almost forgot that bit of information. Well his father didn't treat him well, He wasn't physically abusive but was distant and cruel but would keep up family appearance in public. Tim's mother on the other hand wasn't mean or distant towards him she was sweet and loving like any mother, but she was neglectful. They both were neglectful of him, often leaving him home alone while they traveled on business." Martha had the same far away look when he told her about Dick's parents accident. Now Tim wasn't planning to use Dick's strategy but he was persuaded otherwise. "One day both of his parents were kidnapped and were poison which killed them. I took him in because I was acquainted with the Drake's and it wasn't long until I adopted the boy, although he didn't want the Wayne name. He was more then happy with being a Drake and I wasn't going to take that from him." His daughter gave him a pitiful smile which broke his heart but also made him happy at the results. 'Ladies and gentlemen we have two for two.' Bruce pulled the blue eye ombrénette close to his side as Martha subtly clings to him mumbling about the Wayne adoption tragic backstory check list which made him laugh as she wasn't wrong. "Now then, ready to learn about your younger brother Damian?" Martha gave a polite nod.

"Remember back at the café I told you Damian loves animals?" Martha indeed remembered. "Well besides taking care of Alfred, Titus and Batcow he also has a habit of taking in strays to foster, and when finding them a home he goes all-out checking their backgrounds and any criminal records if they hand any." Some might say that's extreme but Martha has seen awful people treating animals so abhorrently so it's understandable why Damian isn't leaving no stone unturned, Martha respects that. "He would also volunteer at Gotham's Wildlife and animal shelters as well." Martha also respects that. "You also told me Damian practices martial arts and swordsmanship right?" "Yes I did, he grew up learning both from his mother and has kept at it when he came to live with me. I would sometimes spar with him but not as frequently as he wanted, so imagine his happiness when he learned his big sister also practices martial arts and sword fighting." The male's lips curled up in a smile as he remember Damian would binge watch Martha's fencing videos and martial artist shorts then get up to train with vigorous determination. "Ever since then he's been itching to spar with you and maybe show off a little." It fills Martha with delight hearing someone wants to spar with her as some men wouldn't fight a girl, making her feel like she's some an unworthy opponent. "I hope I can meet his expectations." With no doubt on his face Bruce respond with confidence "I know you will."

"The another thing to know about Damian is his art hobby." Curious on the type of artist he is Martha asked for clarification. "If I had to label the kind of artist he his I'd call him a graphite artist, a painter and sculpter as he mostly sketches with woodless graphite pencils and uses acrylic gouache when painting. And as for his sculpting he mostly sculpts animals, he even entered one in a competition. I believe it was his red panda that won him first place." "He won first place? I'm impressed! it must have been a good looking panda." "It was." Martha giggled at Bruce's confidence but didn't doubt his word for a moment. "You know I also didn't know about Damian until his mother gave me custody, but he was already 13 and has lived a life I wasn't apart of." Martha couldn't help herself from pitying the man, the poor guy was never given the chance to raise his children and wasn't there for any of their milestones.

Martha finally took the time to look at her surroundings even if she didn't need to as she knows where they are even if all of her attention was on Bruce. 'It's not like I had any doubt were I was going, I could walk home with my eyes close.' They were finally in her neighborhood and her house was right there in front of them. Lady happily trotted towards the front porch taking a set under the glass canopy waiting for them. Bruce looked over the house his daughter has been living in. It has a substantial size with a modern style to it and is made of dark wood and glass windows. He found her living residence acceptable but she would do much better at the manor. While Bruce was busy inspecting the house Martha had her head in her bag searching for the keys, she finally found them as they made it to the front door. If Martha was being honest with herself she was quite nervous on how this will go down even though she knows her mother is a reasonable woman, but still the ombrénette hid her nervousness with a small smile. "You ready?" To which she was given a smile that eased her nervousness, but hidden underneath that smile was the confidence of a parent ready to win a custody battle. With that being said Martha unlocked the door and all 3 stepped inside.

As they stepped inside the foyer Bruce looked around the interior, the house had a warm and inviting atmosphere with natural light filtering through large windows illuminating a spacious open-plan living area that combined the kitchen, dining room and living area into one large area. From there Bruce could see the house is furnished with comfortable modern sofas and dark wooden tables. 'So this is where Martha's been living for 15 years.' Martha lead him to the living room insisting him to take a seat while Lady followed at their heels. Once Bruce seated himself on a armchair Martha headed towards one of the the sliding doors made of the same dark work as the rest of the house. Knocking on the wood the ombrénette called for her mother. "I'm home mom. My dad's here too." It felt so weird to say that out loud but Bruce was pleased to hear those words come out of his daughter's mouth.

The sliding the door open to reveal a woman with rose red hair who was styled up in 3 rose buns with jade green eyes and rose beige skin. Roseanne know this day would come, it was to be expected for birthing Bruce Wayne's child but it's not like she regretted having Martha, because she didn't. The problem was that she hid Bruce Wayne's child and now she was in for a rude awakening. Closing the door to her office Roseanne asked Martha to take Lady in the backyard, taking the hint Martha did just that. The red-haired woman took a seat on the couch parallel from the billionaire. "Roseanne, it's been 15 years haven't it?" That stun but well deserved. Reaching into his suit pocket Bruce pulled out paperwork and a pen handing them over to her. She looked them over, 'Theses are child custody documents.' The paper needed her signature but she won't sign them. "You're crazy to think I'll hand over my daughter all willy-nilly, I raised that girl for 15 years and I'll continue to watch her grow up in the foreseeable future." Bruce was ready to make his argument if it wasn't for the fact the woman raised her hand signalling she wasn't done speaking. "But she's also your daughter so if you're willing I don't mind sharing custody." Bruce would of liked to have full custody but it wouldn't be wise to push it. 'I need to be patient, disposing her now wouldn't be smart. I just need to wait for the right moment.' "Sounds like a solution."

Roseanne was relieved the conversation didn't blow up. 'Crisis averted. Now there's one thing left to do.' The red-head excused herself to fetch something real quick. So Bruce waited in the living room until she came back and when she did she held a wooden box in her hands. Curious the ravenette asked, "What's that?" Sitting back down Roseanne explain. "This is Martha's baby box, it holds mementos from her childhood. And I would like you to have it." This actually touched Bruce and when he was given it he held it with care. He couldn't wait to go thought Martha's memories with the boys and Alfred. "You have no idea how much this means to me, thank you." Roseanne didn't mind giving him Martha's baby box as she had 15 years with the girl but he had none. "It's the least I could do." Bruce agreed with that statement but didn't say anything. "Not that it isn't a fitting name but why did you name Martha after my mother?" Roseanne smiled with all the warmth inside of her and spoke 4 simple words "To honor your mother." Bruce was more then happy with the reason, maybe co-parenting with Roseanne wouldn't be so bad. 'Until I kill you of course.' Bruce thought with a purely white smile.

While her parents talked inside Martha took the opportunity to make a phone call as Lady sat at her feet chewing on a kong toy filled with peanut butter. Looking through her burner phone she clicked on the familiar contact labeled Red Hood, her call was immediately answered.

Martha: Jason, I have something to tell you.

Jason: You're the old man's daughter.

Martha: ... I feel robbed, how did you know?

Jason: The old man sended a video of you and Lady to the group chat. Which was adorable by the way.

Martha: I thought you don't usually check the group chat unless you're working with them?

Jason: I don't, but your face popped up so I had to check out what was going on. For a minute I think the old bat had got to you but instead I found out you're his daughter.

Martha: Sorry Jay.

Jason: I'm not mad just not ready to share you with any of those fuckers.

Martha: We knew this day was coming, but not like this.

Jason: I think I would of preferred he met K-9 and not Martha.

Martha: That's a lie

Jason: Yeah that's a lie. I don't like the idea of sharing you in general but my hands are tied. *deep sign* And my phone is blowing up as everyone is telling me to come over tomorrow to meet you.

Martha: Speaking about tomorrow should we pretend we're meeting for the first time or don't hide our relationship?

Jason: If I have to share my puppy I might as well make it a living hell for everyone. But we don't elaborate on how we know each other unless directly asked, ok?

Martha: Ok, and I'm assuming I keep quiet about knowing their nightly activities?

Jason: For now until the time is right, same goes for revealing your own secret. As much as I like to shit on the guy he's still your father and he has a right to know you're my partner got it K-9?

Martha: Got it. By the way I've finished collecting data on that guy you asked me for and I found something you should see.

Jason: Tell me what you found and when I come pick you up show me everything.

Martha: You got it boss.

Tag @1abi @jsprien213

[bearyzdiary]

Hellooo 👋 I know you’re busy with other requests but I can’t help with this idea

With hyperpink girly reader (gender neutral Ofc or your choice) though they may seem mean to others but is really nice to Simon, very affectionate to him (covering his face with pink lip gloss marks) , and protective too. Chase Simon’s bullies away with their neon pink platform heels.

I’ve been obsessing with pink x emo dynamic

Take however long you want!! Thanks for reading this and I hope you’ll have a good day/night ✊

Bubblegum

Simon x reader

This diary entry contains…established relationship | Talk of poor mental health | mentions of bullying | reader is a icon | Simon is just Simon | just the two of you being cuties | slight obsessive behavior

Simon was a loser and you were the popular icon of the college you both went to.Your style was so pretty and colorful,Mostly pink but any color would fit you.

You met Simon on your first day when you needed help finding the girls restroom to re-do your lip combo.He instantly fell in love with you.

He soon enough made a big enough of move to get closer to you and you guys ended up getting close to each other to start dating blah blah blah!

Once you guys got close enough he confessed about how he was struggling with poor mental health and was a main target for bullying.

You never liked them.You use to be a target for bullying until you kinda just snapped and told them off.You were left alone after that and ever since then you been helping people who get bullied.

You sat on his bed as he cleaned up his floor.You had came over to listen to him vent and to help him with some English because he needed an idea of what to write.

“People are so shitty sometimes Simon,but you gotta ignore them and show them you don’t care! They’re just a bunch of self projecting losers”You say while fixing your digital camera.

Simon nodded before shrugging.He didn’t have the confidence like you did.You made yourself known while he kinda just stood on the side lines and supported you.”come here”you say gently as you place your camera on Simon’s windowsill.

Simon got up from his spot on the floor and made his way towards you.he sat next to you before staring into your eyes.You grab the sides of his stubble covered face and plant small kisses all over his face.

You had applied some cute pink lipgloss a couple of minutes earlier so you left sticky lipgloss kiss marks.You giggled at your work before grabbing your camera and snapping a quick photo of Simon.

He started down at your lap before smiling.”You’re so so so so soo handsome babe.Im kinda glad some girls don’t you like you because now I can have you all to myself!”You joke as you place a couple more kisses on his face.

Simon feels his face get red as he hides his face in his hands.Girls never were into him as much as your were.He had Sophie yeah but Sophie only saw him as a friend

You were different.unlike Sophie,you didn’t leave him but you stayed with him and comforted him.When Sophie rejected him and made up the excuse she had to go,You stayed with him the whole entire night listening to him vent.

Simon and Sophie are still I guess you could call them friends but he doesn’t talk with her anymore as much.He has you!When Simon does talk to Sophie he mostly talks about his life and how you made it much better.

People still don’t know how Simon was able to get with someone like you.You were a likeable,bubbly and a talkative person unlike Simon who was like the complete opposite,but they do say opposites attract.

You sometimes would even chase them off,it didn’t matter what type of shoes you were wearing you could run in 6 inch heels and still look flawless spewing out curses word at a bunch of losers who were picking on Simon.

Sometimes Simon would help with picking your outfits!he didn’t have much fashion sense when it came to himself but when he came to you,He knew exactly how to dress you.

“Ok Simon!I have this cute baby pink crop top or should I wear the baby blue one?”You ask while showing your boyfriend the two shirts.Simon did a quick scan off both shirts before looking at the skirt you had picked out.It was a black,pleated skirt with small rhinestones on the belt loops.

“I feel like you should wear the blue one.I think it would go good with the skirt your gonna wear”Simon said while going back to messing with his camera,

You nod as you toss the pink shirt back into the closet before smiling at Simon and thanking him for his help.Not only was he such a cutie but a big help when it came to styling you.

He was the only male you would trust picking out your outfits.Sometimes the two of you would match if you were able to convince him.it would take a couple minutes of begging but sooner or later you would make Simon have matching pink themed outfits!

Even if he found it absolutely ridiculous,As long as you were happy he was even more happy.

[v3lv3tsin]

neon nights: sim jaeyun

| pairing: sim jake x reader

| genre: idol!jake, student!reader

| warnings: smut, minors dni

| word count: 1.0k

| stefy's note: i had this scenario in my head ever since i missed this live so i've written it but never posted it, but @eeunoia reminded me of this jake and i couldn't just ignore it, but i needed to feed my delulu ass since it's valentine's day, so enjoy :)

[ BACK TO MASTERLIST ]

Sim Jaeyun.

The golden retriever of Enhypen.

Your boyfriend.

Dating Jake was both a blessing and a curse. There were ofte times when you would barely see each other due to his schedule. But he didn't want forget that it was Valentine's Day.

He was getting ready for the weverse live, while you were laying on the bed looking at him as he got dressed up. He wore an ovesized blue & white poli shirt with a pair of black denim jeans. Which were complimentary for his black hair. You would be lying to yourself to not admit that he looked like a full course meal.

You were laying on the bed, on your phone while he was on the sofa talking to the engenes. Dressed in a short black skirt with a white crop top, you made it hard for him not to stare or look over. You looked up from your phone, at him from time to time trying not to stare. He told you before the live that would be taking you out somewhere. Without any details. Just you and him.

Colorful lights from the array of arcade games flood your eyes as you step inside the arcade with Jake. You were the only ones there. Your eyes immediately laid on a stuffed animal in a claw machine.

After many failed attempts, you sulk in the corner of the arcade. Snacking on some chips you had purchased. Suddenly, you felt something bonked on your head. Jake placing the stuffed animal you had wanted on your head.

"You got it." You said smiling while hugging him tight.

"I thought it was only the right thing to do since I spent money already." His voice was soft and quiet but his giggles were loud and playful.

"You really did get it." You say smiling still not believing he actually got it for you.

"I know...I know how much you like these." Jake smiles down at you. "How will you name it?"

"I will name it Jake, since you got it for me." You say smiling.

The two of you have now spent a good three hours at the arcade together. Having a blast as usual playing games, winning prizes and eating too many snacks. The sun has started to slip down on you two, which meant your arcade time was coming to an end. After 10 minutes you found yourselves kissing passionately against a wall, behind the claw machine. The taste of your lips on his were all-consuming. He could only do these for days. But he knew that both of you needed more.

He breaks the kiss to remove your crop top, bra and panties, leaving you on in the skirt. Leaning down to kiss you once again before trailing his lips to down the collumn of your neck. The mix of sweetness and salt of your skin is addicting. The same way it has always been.

His mouth lances on you neck, sucking and licking you, knowing that he will be leavinh a mark. He couldn't help it. The need to mark you as his in any way was so alluring not to do so.

He continues his path down your body, focusing on your breasts next. He takes your nipple into his mouth, giving it the attention it deserves. Your body arches, trying to get closer. Your hand is now gripping his hair tightly, holding him to you. One day he’ll make yoi come this way, but today is not that day. He need more than that. He needed all of you. To be inside of you. To feel our bodies as one. To make you his in every way.

He releases your breast from his mouth reluctantly. His cock is now dripping with his desire for you.

"Jake, please-" The frustration in your voice caused him to smile against your skin.

He resumes his journey, placing soft kisses down your torso. The scent of you arousal calls him home. His mouth waters to taste you there, to bury his face between your thighs and make you scream until your legs shake and you can’t take any more.

When he reaches your sex, he closes his eyes, breathing you in before he takes his first taste.

Her hips raise off the wall the moment his mouth latches on to your clit. You’re as desperate for him as he for you.

He devous you , licking and sucking her until your body is writhing underneath him.

"Jake." You moan his name as your first orgasm hits and you comes against his face. He drinks down every last drop of you. He’ll never get enough of your taste.

"Fuck you’re beautiful." He says, lifting his eyes to meet yours. The satisfied look on your face is enough to make him come.

He gives your clit one last kiss, then give each of your creamy thighs a nibble before making his way back up your body. Another time, he’ll kiss every inch of you, but that will have to wait.

When he reach your mouth, he takes it roughly, unable to control himself. His cock nestles in between your warm folds. The cum that’s leaking from it mixes with your arousal. He tries to keep those thoughts at bay. His willpower is diminishing by the second. But he won’t come until he’s deep inside you.

Slowly a rhythm forms between you two, his cock sliding through your wetness, hitting your clit each time it does. Your little moans try to push him over the edge.

He breaks the kiss, wanting to see you come this time. Your eyes closed, you throw your head back as your body arches off the wall.

"Eyes on me, baby ."You obey his command, opening them and staring into his as the orgasm courses through your body.

"Happy Valentine’s day, baby." He says while kissing me passionately one last time.

"Happy Valentine’s day." You kiss him back while wrapping your hands around his neck.

© V3LV3TSIN ⎯ do not translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[bee-nutauthor]

Dimitrescu Sisters If they were Content Creators Headcanon (for fun)

Bela Dimitrescu

-The most wholesome, mom-esque content ever

-Will give you good life advice, whether it be shopping tips on how to get more groceries for less, or tips on how to manage your finances

-Makes cooking videos, sewing videos, make up videos, candle making videos, nail painting vidoes- basically anything to do with crafts and she's probably done it

-Speaks in a calm tone, has mellow music in the background

-Uses very calm colors in her videos, meaning her shirts are in cool tones of blues, grays, whites, and blacks.

-Her backdrop is a clean and organized space- a light wood bookshelf, plain walls, some minimalist flower vases, and a diffuser

-Is very organized with her schedule. Her videos are always up at the same time and day, and she follows a rotating schedule of what topics she will make videos for

-Controversies? None, unless you count the time she roasted a company who wanted her to do a paid promo for actually being toxic and causing them to shut down

-She is affectionately called 'Internet Mom'

-She does not understand the 'sorry, mommy' jokes and does not wish to

-Does not collab with other content creators, which lead to a conspiracy theory whether she actually existed in real life or was a robot

-Is sponsored mostly by clothing brands

Cassandra Dimitrescu

-She is a storytime channel, telling the most outlandish stories ever

-And they're all true. Her life is just like that

-She travels a lot for work so often she'll film travel vlogs or behind the scene vlogs

-Collabs all the time with other content creators

-Always has famous people on her channel

-Does Q and A's

-Her video uploading schedule is not super consistent due to her traveling a lot, and sometimes she'll post several videos in a row and then there will be nothing for a long time

-She has cycled through 5 public relationships within the first three months of her channel

-Has released music videos on her channel and is planning on releasing a full album. She always puts a lot of effort into her sets and costume design. Her singing is amazing as she's classically trained and can do opera too

-Has starred in other content creator's mini series on youtube and always draws the most views in

-Outfits are always changing depending on if she's traveling or making music videos

-Has made a few comedy skits here and there

-Controversies? There is a lot of drama circling around her and who she's hooking up with or who she'll go for next. A few people tried to call out her melodramatic behavior and instead of making an apology video Cassandra winked at the camera, sent the viewers a kiss and said "you know you love me like this," and ended the video like that.

-She was right. Her views only skyrocketed after this

-Gets many sponsorships, but donates the money from them to art or dance studios

Daniela Dimitrescu

-A streamer, she streams several hours a day in a row

-She does games mostly, with the occasional video filming her attempt to cook some horrific dish she found on the internet such as the toducken

-Has posted a few videos of herself doing tricks on her skateboard

-Has posted a few videos of her work out routines. Those have millions of views for reasons relating to her crop top and abs

-Has a set up with RGB lights in the back, and a mini fridge full of energy drinks

-Has the latest technology to play games on, but wears the same outfit almost always to her streams: a black tank top, a black hoodie with neon green writing on it, and a pair of headphones with cat ears on top

-Has dyed her hair many times but commonly sticks with her red hair, shaved on one side

-Has tattoos of her favorite video game characters on her arms and legs

-Will stream with other players and has done a handful of collabs but prefers playing single player games

-Rarely sleeps and has done several 24 hour streams for charity

-Controversies? She was accused of cheating when doing a speedrun but it was only the haters claiming she couldn't play

-Sponsored by raid shadow legends and other game companies

[somethingswift19]

Alt+Nerd= <3 Pope x (f) reader

| Warnings:

| Summary: The bubbly alt girl falls for Pope, the nerdy and serious guy.

| (a/n): I had a good reaction to the alt reader x obx so I wanted to continue that a little bit :) I'm so tired so if this is awful I apologize but I had fun writing it so that's really what counts right? Not proof read.

Leaning up against the lockers you watched as the whole pouge friend group walked past, sighing to yourself. Since freshman year you had had a thing for the smart one, Pope. He was so cute and serious and when he got all serious it made him even cuter and more adorable in your eyes. He was misunderstood and looked over a lot for John B and JJ. And even when he wasn't being looked over, he rarely noticed when girls hit on him. Green flags tbh.

But this brings you back to today...as you watched them all walk passed you knew you were probably not his type considering he was dating Kiara but a girl can dream. You had your black and blue hair straightened and pulled back into pigtails, neon green glasses, black cropped hoodie, skinny jeans, and orange nike airs on. "Hey! You ready for class?" your best friends voice snapped you out of your trance.

"Oh yeah, sorry," you shook your head and smiled before grabbing your bag and walking to AP biology. Tapping your pen on the desk, you day dreamed as the teacher went over the previous test. This was your favorite class but today you were just distracted. Before you knew it, the bell rang and you realized you hadn't taken a single note. Shit you thought. But that's when you had the idea... "Hey Pope!" you yelled after the boy as you ran to catch up to him.

"Uh...hi?" he looked at you confused. Honestly fair considering you have had probably two conversations with him in total. "What's up?"

"Oh, well...I kinda have a problem," you began. "Is there anyway you can go over the science notes from today with me? I didn't quite get all of it." Correction, I was staring at you like a total stalker for the entire class and wasn't paying any attention.

"Oh uh, yeah sure. Meet me at lunch and I'll give you my notes," Pope said as you nodded.

"Lucky I have the smartest guy in school in my class!" you responded cheerfully.

"Well technically Thomas Jennings is the number 1 in our class so he would be the smartest. I'm probably top five-" he rambled on before you cut him off.

"Pope," you stated. "Take the compliment and go with it. A cute girl is calling you smart."

As lunch rolled around, you met up with him and you copied down his notes from the day. "I like your glasses by the way." This snapped you out of you concentration.

"I'm sorry?" you asked not quite processing.

"Your glasses," he smiled. "They're cool. I like them."

"Oh," blushing hard core, you smiled. "Thank you!"

"Sorry if this is weird," he started, scratching the back of his neck. "You remind me of someone."

"Yeah? And who might that be?" you put your pen down and smiled. You were in the conversation now. Can't take this for granted.

"Abbey from NCIS," this time he came across as shy.

"Wait, no way! Thank you so much! I've always loved her and Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds. I think that's where my style comes from. But Oh my God Thank you!" you knew you were rambling but fuck it. "Wait you watch NCIS?"

"Oh yeah, I love that show," Pope chuckled at your enthusiasm. "I always wanted to be like Duckie. I want to be a coroner."

"That's so dope," you smiled. "I want to go into forensics."

"That's not people's usual reaction to that," he stated.

You could stare into his eyes all day, good God, "Hey, we should meet up at the wreck after school. I mean if you want."

"Yeah! My friends and I were already planning on meeting up there later," he started. "You can come with us."

"Ok! I would love that!," this time it was your turn to chuckle. "Maybe after we can have some alone time? Just the two of us?"

"Wait...what?" the quizzical look he had on his face was adorable.

"Here," you said grabbing his arm and writing your number down. "I've been flirting with you for the past half hour for the record." You winked at him and started grabbing your things.

"I-I'll text you," he called after you and JJ looked over at him giving him a thumbs up. You knew he was watching you leave as you walked out of the cafeteria.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Time Skip After Shool~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as you got home, you got ready to meet up with the pouges and considering this was the first time, and you were hanging out with pope, you had to look decent. Deciding on ripped black skinny jeans and a blue halter top with David Bowie vans high tops, you threw your hair into a half up half down bun and put on some lashes. Your green glasses still adorning your face. Dabbing on some lip gloss, you took one final look at yourself in the mirror before heading out.

Pope's friends were really nice and very chill honestly! Kiara was standoffish at first but quickly warmed up. And you learned Sarah Cameron was nothing like you expected! "So Ms. (Y/n)," JJ exclaimed throwing his arm over your shoulder. "Pope has told us a lot about you." Pope was signaling for him to shut the fuck up but that's not what JJ does.

"Has he now?" you giggled looking over at him.

"I wouldn't say a alot..." Pope was trying to hide his face now.

"Really?" JJ began. "So she isn't the cool, colored hair girl who is the only person who is better in science than you?"

"And she isn't the sweet and talkative girl who reminds you of...what's that show again?" Kiara chimed in laughing and using hand motions.

"Ok, ok, leave him alone," John B very kindly said. "And the show is NCIS."

"That's right!" everyone exclaimed at once embarrassing him and making you laugh and look at him sweetly.

"So exactly how smart are you to be better at Pope in something?" Sarah asked putting a french fry in her mouth.

"Oh, um," you were blushing now from the attention. "I'm just freakishly good at science. He's still smarter than I am." He smiled and shook his head at you. After a couple hours the two of you snuck off, but not without whistles from the others. Walking down to the shoreline, having your feet touch the water as you looked at the shells and things washing up. "Thank you for inviting me to hang out with you and your friends."

"Oh, it's no problem," he stated. "Thanks for writing your number on my arm. JJ was proud." This caused you to chuckle a little bit.

"Earlier you said I wasn't what you expected," you said softly. "You aren't what I expected either."

This time his facial expression was nervous as he snapped his head to look at you, "In a good way or a bad way?"

Smiling widely up at him, "In the best way."

"(Y/n)?"

"Pope?"

"Do I have permission to kiss you?" he asked slightly awkwardly.

"Always," you responded sweetly. As your lips met, it was everything you had dreamed of. His hand came to rest on your face gently as he pulled you in closer causing you to throw your arms around his neck. The nerdy guy kissing the goth girl in the moonlight? How many cliches can you guys check off at once? But none the less, this was the perfect night.