#This is actually starting to become a story in my head

[prael]

Day 12: Three Shades of Sin

Le Sserafim Kazuha & Yunjin & TripleS Xinyu

words: 11,736 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All that promise of something more.

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

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

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

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

"Depends on the night."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, I guess that explains it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's an obvious line of questioning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, your voice quiet, soft.

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow. You blink.

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

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

"And your girlfriend?"

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shut up," you murmur, leaning closer.

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

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

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

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

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

"So demanding," you hum.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Both your heads swivel.

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

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

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

“Xinyu?” you sputter. “What’re you-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" says Kazuha.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wanna ride his face?"

Xinyu is grinning like a lunatic, gorgeous and predatory.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oops," she laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Faster than Kazuha?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sounds a little cheesy," you quip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She grins at you. "Right now."

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

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

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

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

"Why's that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Got an idea," you whisper.

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

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

"Beautiful," she says.

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

"Me too," Xinyu chimes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I do."

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

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

There it goes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You did always say—"

"I did."

"And, honestly, there's no better—"

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

[delswine]

FAKE DATING EP.01 𝄒 ⸝. P. SH ? — #great news!

ᆢ ۢ pairing: idol!sunghoon x idol!insecure!f.reader

ᆢ ۢ notes: hello my dear braincells! sorry for slow updating, think of it as an introduction! bai bai~

ᆢ ۢ — masterlist

you were in the company's boardroom, you were called in alone -which was weird because you were in a group-. a few Hybe executives, a few YG executives, are sitting in front of you, telling you to take on the hate by saying that you are dating one of the most handsome and popular idols of this generation.

your stomach churned with tension as you thought about the insane level of possessiveness fans had over male idols. you knew they would criticize your face, your posture, your voice, your dancing, everything.

you loved music. your band loved music too. you had become a popular band that had held on well thanks to your shared passion for music. you were the one who wrote and composed your own band's songs, you even had credit on the choreography. you knew you were famous for your talent, not your face.

and yes, this part might have been one of the points where you felt insecure. of course you had fans who would give you millions of comments about how beautiful you were, but when k-pop fans liked an idol they would praise them no matter what. even though your group members, many celebrities, and random people you met told you that you were pretty... you couldn't help but be insecure about it. this was mainly because photos of you from when you were a teenager, way before your debut, were leaked a few years ago and netizens made fun of your face. you were dealing with acne like most teenagers, you had uneven facial features, and netizens didn't care that that had changed now.

you knew that the moment your name was mentioned in the same sentence as one of their beloved idols, you would be taken back to the time before you were lynched. your breath trembled. "why me?" they brushed you off with an answer that was clearly prepared in advance. "you and Sunghoon were picked on before because you looked good together. It will help both of your popularity."

bullshit. tou knew it was bullshit. they were going to throw you in to cover up a scandal about the companies.

and what did they say? Sunghoon? Park Sunghoon from Enhypen?

great, you're going to say that you're dating an idol who's been voted fans' favorite for the past three months. you didn't even know him!

you leaned forward slightly, running your hands through your hair and taking deep breaths to calm yourself down. "you do realize this will ruin me, right? any female idol whose name is mentioned with any male idol is instantly lynched."

this time the answer came from your company. "relax y/n, the fans will love you side by side. lynching will definitely come but not as much as you can handle."

ah, you knew it would definitely will be much as you can't handle.

— —

a few days passed quickly, the members of both groups briefed, and finally the day had come for you to meet Sunghoon and set up your story with the staff.

you entered the meeting room, muttering every curse word you knew. you sat down at the chair and started looking at your phone without taking off your mask and hat.

when Sunghoon walked in a few minutes later, you turned your head towards him. you stood up from your seat and bowed, then extended your hand. "y/n from Lavish, it's great to meet you." Sunghoon also took your hand and introduced himself before taking his seat.

he didn't really need an introduction, all you had been doing for the past few days was researching him so you knew everything about him.

"since you're both here, we can adjust your story and make the official announcement."

and they did. your story had been completed with the opinions and approval of everyone except you and Sunghoon, and now they were getting ready to make a press release.

it was a simple and cliché story, actually: Sunghoon had been attracted to you since you were trainee, and you met at an awards ceremony. the cherry on top for the staff was that, quite coincidentally, at an awards ceremony a few years ago, you both left the camera using the restroom at the same time. watching how they came up with it and adapted it into a story had gotten on your nerves because until the past few days, all you knew about Park Sunghoon was his reputation and talents.

but that wasn't the only surprise, they wanted to say that you liked him first when they made the story in the first place. but to your suprise, Sunghoon quickly objected. forcing the team to switch roles so as not to further intensify the lynching that they already knew would be quite intense. you saw even the CEO was momentarily taken aback by the clarity of his attitude.

but anyway, the story was finally complete! now the companies wanted you and Sunghoon to go on a date in a public area as if you were hiding and get caught by the reporters they sent.

every word you heard made you so angry that the blood in your veins rushed to your brain. why did you even get involved in this?

taglist (lemme know if you wanna be added)

@miuwonis @tasnemluvs @littlofang @enhamonsterghoul @shhh1233728 @elegancefr @pasteltheghost16 @tsukikourito @missunicorn @ily4jknity @enhaz1 @riribelle

[cherryblossompink303]

Patience: ~Covering the famous host club!~

➼ pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader ➼ summary: Tamaki finds himself with his heart set on helping save the newspaper club. ➼ what to expect:  "For the first time in your life it was you and him, not just you." ➼ warnings: none ➼ Part Thirteen | Part Fifteen

You had to admit that the times that the host club was held outside that you actually do find a sense of calm during club hours, there was notably less chaos on days like these.

"Wow, I've never notice that the courtyard had such a lovely stream"

"It's called a yarimizu channel, it is said that during the Heian era, people would better experiance the seasons by watching the petals or autumn leaves that drifted along the water. I had it specially made for all of you, hoping it would express my desire to spend all four seasons with you. so then what do you say ladies? This fall, there's an autumn leaves tea party with alimited number of invitations"

"Oh! Sign me up!"

You roll your eyes through a laugh from nearby, it always catches you offguard when Kyoya lays it on thick for the sake of a sail but you had to admit that the times that he does it is certainly entertaining.

The next thing you know Tamaki comes tumbling through the garden, tackling Haruhi to get her out of the way of a ball flying in her direction, resulting in an argument with the twins. "You think so? Well check this out! Starlight kick!"

The ball disappears it gets launched so far "Take care of yourself! Bye!" however when the ball comes back down it barrels through a window"

"Oh god" you sigh, so much for peace.

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Covering the famous host club!

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"Really. We're terribly sorry about that" you had all found yourselves in the office of the newspaper club after it turned out the ball had hit the president in the head. "Don't worry, it's no big deal. Could've happened to anyone, right? Just a ball flying through a window and hitting me upside the head"

"Please accept our apology"

"Well this works out perfectly, I was just thinking about approaching the Host Club about a cover story I don't suppose you'd be interested?"

"I didn't know we had a newspaper club"

"It's more gossip rag than newspaper"

"Like a trashy tabloid, it's filled with stories about scandalous love affairs, family power struggles and junk like that"

"It's just a lame hossip rag that specialises in stirring up scandal. And everyone knows its all lies, so nobody reads it anymore"

It is then that you realise where you recognise the president from "It's Komatsuzawa isn't it?" The question leaves your lips before you really get the chance to stop yourself, drawing attention to where you had been stood in the corner of the room.

"yes, sorry have we met"

"A long time ago in passing, my father is l/n"

It was slowly starting to become a bit awkward when you realise that Komatsuzawa was the son of your fathers old business partner...one that he betrayed to build up a media empire.

He grits his teeth "I see, I didn't realise that you went here, last we met was out of the country"

You shrug "I transferred, surely with all your fathers experience he would have taught you journalistic integrity?"

"You know I guess we have kind of lost sight of the truth because we've been so worried about drawing in more readers. It's a shame we're just now realising our error, now that the paper's at risk. We've finally realised what we should have been reporting to the students of ouran" He stands up.

"Help us please, for the last paper of the semester, we'd like to do an up-close special edition, revealing the charms of ouran's host clubb members. I'm begging you, without your help, our club will close"

"You can count on us" Tamaki assures.

You and Kyoya exchange eyecontact, silently communicating through shaking your heads.

"On behalf of the host club i accept-" "we have to decline" Kyoya shoves Tamaki out the way.

"But Kyoya he got hurt because of me, what's the big deal?"

"Sorry, we have a policy prohibiting us from sharing any personal information with anyone other than our guests. But we'd be more than happy to pay any medical expenses related to your injury"

"And another thing, what makes you think we'd want to help you spread rumors and gossip? We've got a reputation to uphold and you'd just ruin it"

"Besides you guys cause a lot of trouble for other people, and who would want to get mixed up with that"

"I understand, well, I guess you really can't erase the sins of the past, can you?" The president makes direct eye contact with you. "People won't even give you the opportunity to try and redeem yourself Ow! my head is killing me"

"President!"

"I'm ok, don't worry you two, oh no i'm getting dizzy again" you were starting to think that his acting skills are as bad as his journalism. "I guess all we can do at this point is disband with grace"

"No you don't have to" Tamaki doubles down "You can always make a fresh start. we'll help, we will rally the power of the host club, and we can re-establish the Newspaper club together!"

"Well count us out"

"You're way too trusting boss we can't just go along with everything you do forever" "yeah we've had enough"

Kyoya places a hand on your shoulder, guiding you towards the door "We're leaving too Tamaki, we're holding an evaluation meeting, mostly about you"

"Hold it! How can you be so heartless? These men are about to lose their club. Don't you feel sorry for them? Their family's breaking up! As your president I demand you help them and that is a direct order"

"We're not going to do it"

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Tamaki has been sat sulking in the corner for who knows how long, to the point of concern as the rest of you look on "well it's obvious he's upset with us"

"Yeah, he hasn't even changed clothes"

"I hate it when he ignores us when we're right in front of him. He's such a child"

"Nah, Tama-chan's just a lonely guy, you know?"

"I hate to give in, but would it really be that bad to help them out with their newspaper?" Haruhi asks, grabbing everyones attention. "What?"

"Hey, since when are you taking his side?"

"Since never, just listen okay? I know any moment now, he's gonna look over here with those puppy-dog eyes he always uses when he wants something, and none of us will be able to say no, and so he'll win"

"Let me guess, you're speaking from experience, aren't you?"

"Besides maybe I'm wrong but isn't this the kinda thing you guys usually go for?"

"Well no, this seems like more trouble than it's worth" The twins shrug. "What about you Honey-senpai?"

"Count me out, I have this cake to eat and Takashi sticks with me, right?" Honey wolfed down a strawberry cake.

"Y/n?"

"After Renge's film we leave any and all PR to internal affairs, but also I'd like to point out that this club does have secrets that the newspaper club would go for. If they are sniffing around us all it takes one slip up and it's 'favoured host club member secretly a girl?' or 'Host club member secretly engaged' we would be giving them exactly what they want"

You all look over to tamaki, who pulls out said puppy dog eyes mentioned earlier "those are the eyes"

"Puppy dog eyes"

Kyoya sighs "There will be some conditions"

"The outline for their article will be submitted by us. Interviews are strictly prohibited, it is vital that our client's identities be kept confidential, and no one is to reference Haruhi's identity and y/n's ties to the club beyond professional."

"Do we agree?"

"Well, if you it's cool, Kyoya-senpai" "Then we do too"

"I'll do it since Kyo-chan says it's okay"

"Kyoya, a word please?"

The two of you step away from the main group out into the hallway "I don't have a good feeling about this" you are straight up with him once the door closes behind you two. "Relax y/n i've got this handled"

"But-" "Seriously, relax, trust me, it will be handled"

Suddenly the words from that bizarre dream you had recently echoed in your head

"perhaps the reason you think you can't depend on others is that you reject it"

You know that it is strange to take advice of a strange dream version of Tamaki of all people but maybe he is right.

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"Of course! If you'll allow us to cover you, we promise to observe your conditions"

"Well then, you may start tomorrow"

"Excellent"

"So how is that bump on your forehead feeling?"

"Oh, that? It's no big deal, I hardly feel it anymore. I owe a lot to this bump because without it, we'd never have come together for this article"

"That's true, but we're still very sorry it happened" Kyoya slides a first aid kit over the presidents desk "I brought you a little something as an apology of sorts. This is a first aid kit, made by my family's company"

"That you I appreciate it"

"No problem, please excuse me" Kyoya turns to leave "Oh, it just dawned on me, your family runs the Ootori group right? They manufacture medical equipment don't they?"

Kyoya avoids the urge to roll his eyes "We mostly deal with hospital management"

"I am so glad that we'll be working together, my father is a president as well, of the Komatsuzawa publishing firm"

"Yes, I am well aware of that, so being president of the newspaper club is your way of preparing to take over your family's company?"

"Well yes to an extent but I have this younger brother. He's a bright young man, and my father's very proud of him you seeso now my father has decided to turn future management of the company over tgo my younger brother. And thereby passing over me, the eldest son, first born. However, if I'm able to finish my third year at Ouran Academy as the president of a succesdul newspaper club I think he may reconsider my candidacy as his successor. Do you understand? I cannot allow this club to fall apart no matter what"

"Please excuse me" Kyoya leaves, closing the door behind him.

"Mr president are we to assume you were trying to win over Kyoya Ootori?"

"But of course, you see my plans have expanded now, I can knock out two birds with one stone, not only now do I have the opportunity to bring down Tamaki Suoh but if I create enough scandal surrounding y/n then it will reflect badly on the l/n group and will certainly gain favour from my father"

"But how would befriending Kyoya Ootori help with that?"

"Well isn't obvious? the two of them are always together not to mention their fathers are very good friends, I can use him to get to her" he stands up, looking out the window. "As for Tamaki Suoh he clearly flaunts his power and standing to sucker all those poor girls into that host club. I will dig until I find scandal in all of them"

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It was actually entertaining watching the host club play red light green light out in the gardens, purely for how much Tamaki gets into it as opposed to the rest of the club, you aren't partaking in it, trying to put some distance between you and them, also to keep an wyw on the newspaper club stood nearby.

"President, what on earth are we witnessing?"

"Could it be some kind of new religion?"

"Why are you asking me? How should I know?"

"You know, I can't blame you for being shocked, I was nunfamiliar with it myself, but it's a commoner's game. They have a wide variety , and none of them require spending any money. All you need is a few friends to play with" Tamaki prances over to explain,

"Mhm, and what does this have to do with our coverage of the host club?"

"You need to learn friendliness!" tamaki is very dramatic with his demanding "If you want to clear the negative reputation of the newspaper club, and attempt to capture the hearts of your readers, you must try to be more down to earth. I can just imagine the headlines now 'The handsome boys of the host club enjoy commoner's games' wioth pictures of us frolicking in the scenery of early summer. It would be the perfect face life of your front pag. And it gives you the chance to show that a certain commoner is happier now reliving his childhood here with us!"

Tamaki pulls the host club into another game, running back to the rest of the club, the Newspaper club approaching Haruhi for an interview, you watching on noting that they had agreed to no interviews and they are already breaking that however they did not seem to be inferring anything about Haurhi's identity. Still you shut it down quickly when it starts to go longer than needed.

During a game of kick the can, or kankeri the newspaper club wander off while the others hide and Kyoya starts counting until he hits 6, dropping the facade of playing the game and standing up once he realises they are gone, you raise an eyebrow "I didn't think you would cheat at anything as small as a playground game kyoya" you say, assuming hes going to jump to searching for them early.

"I'm not cheating, there's something I need to do" he says, wandering off to follow the newspaper club "Wait!" you call after him, running behind."

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"That's it i'm writing the article" Komatsuzawa seeths, marching down the hallway "But president, you have no evidence, gossiping about suoh or l/n is dangerous"

"I don't need evidence, I'll make evidence if I have to, I can think of all kinds of scandals surrounding them. Everyone will see it, once I'm finished with them they'll both have to flee back to europe"

They slam open the doors to the newspaper club to find the twins waiting for them. "So we were right all along"

"You two"

"well, I guess it was pretty obvious"

"The boss and Y/n are the only ones who haven't caught on yet, well, she'll know soon enough, both of them are quite oblivious when it pertains to anything about themselves"

"I should warn you, if you threaten either of them, there will be concequences" "Are you ready to have the Hitachiins and every other club members' family as your enemy?"

"I knew it, you're nothing but Suoh's lackeys! Tamaki's holding his parents' power over you"

"That's not true, we don't hang out with tama-chan because of his parents. We love him. We all like being around him, and that's why we choose to be here."

"He may be a hopeless idiot but even so" Kyoya appears against the wall the door is on, hand on your shoulder.

"Well what will you do?"

"Please leave Tama-chan alone, okay?"

"I'll get you all! It's not just about him anymore! I'll write an article that will ruin all of you"

The president squints at you and Kyoya, assessing his body language and the interactions he had in the past couple of days. "Oh I see now, it's so obvious I can't believe I didn't see it sooner. Your family's have paired you two haven't they?"

You and Kyoya fall silent, you had to admit that you had underestimated him enough to assume he wouldn't put it together. "That's why you came to Japan of all places, why you're always together, they want to combine the forces of the Ootori and l/n groups"

You note how Kyoya's grip tightens at the words. "How perfect, I can both expose your engagement to drive away host club guests and write an article that will tear the deal apart"

"Go ahead, be my guest" your jaw drops at Kyoya's words as he wanders over to the first aidkit he had gifted them. "Although..." he presses a panel at the bottom of the box, ejecting a disk.

"What should we do about this little disk? You see it's been here since yesterday, and it recorded everything. It would only take y/n one phone call and it would be all over the country. How do you think your father would react to that?"

"President just give up already" He falls to his knees.

"Let me explain it to you in terms you can understand. You would do well to remember that the ootori group and the hitachiin family alone have enough stock to remove your father from his position as president of the Komatsuzawa publishing firm. However, we would never do something like that. We are not like you. What we strive for is fundamentally different."

The president is still on his knees as you go to leave the room "You're just as twisted as your father" you pause at the words. Leaving only him, you and kyoya in the room. You shake your head.

"No i am nothing like my father, I don't betray the people I trust, I am sorry for what he did to your father. But you don't think I'm twisted because I am similar to him, you just don't want to admit that you have started to become like him"

You leave, kyoya following behind.

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Eventually you found where Tamaki and Haruhi disappeared to within the hedge maze, now on the way out for cake. "Why didn't you tell me about planting the bug in the Newspaper club?" You ask Kyoya, the rest of the club ahead. "i didn't know how you'd react, I knew it would be the best way to ensure that no harmful articles came out, I had a feeling komatsuzawa would pull something like this once you mention how you two know each other"

you pause, realising exactly how many times Kyoya has gone out of his way to protect you despite him not needing to.

'You love him, don't you? is that romantic love or something else?'

Mori's voice rang around your head, almost taunting you.

pressure seized itself in your chest as you realise a few things.

You had let Kyoya in. For the first time in your life it was you and him, not just you.

"Come on y/n! We don't want to lose you" Tamaki called from further ahead.

Next time on patience 'A refreshing battle in Karuizawa!'

Tag list (reply to be added): @skottch @cgmajor @rebirthbunbun @bbybubbles @blueberry19000 @katgirl05 @smellslikelovinglies @veras-fanfic-reblogs @sadprimrose @mirtalikesdr @sleeplesssskeleton @ritzes28 @crackpeole @rory-cakes @renjunniex @II-kita-san-II @angelicwillows @missbrebre1012 @sleep-7372 @strawberrbitch @reticent-writer @eternal-dokja @meme848 @mistyhydrangeagarden

[neomechanicaldoll]

Beast yeast episode 8 spoilers!

So. I've been going a little bit cuckoo bananas over the new update and its happenings, and I just cannot get this stupid game out of my head. and thus to cope I have made

The pure vanilla conspiracy

Basically just a bunch of things both big and small that I find kind of strange about pure vanilla cookie and associated things

Starting small we have: the pure vanilla kingdom and my first thought is, how is it floating? Just... how did it get there. I don't think it's natural and even if it were how would cookies of gotten up there. In the story gingerbrave and co get up there by using a teleporter and I can't think of a way anyone could of gotten up to the floating island to build it if it were a natural structure.

And speaking of that teleporter, the pure vanilla kingdom is surprisingly technologically advanced. Of course the golden cheese kingdom has all its stuff going on but that place is the exception to everywhere else, the only other places with automations and/or machines I can think of off the top of my head is creme republic, city of wizards and whatever was going on in the summer music festival story(I haven't really played much of that so idk) there could be some I'm missing that I'm just not thinking of right now but point is the pure vanilla kingdom is surprisingly advanced compared to most other places

Quick another thing is the pure vanilla kingdom possibly being responsible for the valley beneath it being so baren, there's something to be said here but I don't remember remember what so uh

Moving on to actually important stuff, I wanna talk about pure vanilla cookies design and the design motifs associated with him.

Basic stuff out of the way first, pure vanilla cookie looks like an ice cream cone and I think that's pretty cool

Next I've got to talk about the eight pointed star which if you haven't noticed important characters (pretty much just exclusively the beasts and the ancients) have certain symbols or sets of symbols tied to them (basically like a visual leitmotif) when these symbols show up somewhere it signifies the characters connection to that thing and pure vanilla's is an eight pointed star (specifically an eight pointed one not a six pointed star those show up everywhere) and so here are some places where I have found said star

Predictable places are of course on pure vanilla cookie's design, the pure vanilla kingdom some and episodes 7 and 8 of beast yeast (only in the background though). More interesting possibly lore important places for this to be is his soul jam (I know this one seems obvious but I'll get to why it's interesting later), on the avatar of destiny's design (and I WILL be talking about this one just you wait), both dream station and eternal city of wizards (I'm not totally sure if this one holds any implications or if devsis just wanted more shapes for stars but they are there and if it is intentional than, oh my does it make things interesting)

There is 100% more places than this since I've mostly just looked through the backgrounds of the world maps, I'm just not bothered enough to look through the whole story and the level backgrounds and decors, maybe I'll do it another day

So- avatar of destiny

I am admittedly a little confused about this thing I really thought it might come into play in these past few updates and it kind of just hasn't, it wasn't even really hinted towards. I am an avid pure vanilla cookie will be avatar of destiny theory enjoyer and I still think that it'll be involved in the story but now I'm not exactly sure how. I originally thought that pure vanilla cookie would become the avatar of destiny a la dark cacao cookie in episode 14 which I still think is a possibility for it to happen I'm just not sure exactly how now. Although there is that one strange line shadow milk cookie has in his interaction with candy apple cookie that has some very fun implications.

But all that aside let's look at the design!

All this considered I feel like there's no possible way that the avatar of destiny and pure vanilla cookie aren't related in some way. I would compare the attacks avatar of destiny and pure vanilla have but aod isn't in guild raid right now and I don't have super sparkle pure vanilla yet so I can't (also I don't want to)

Ok now it's soul jam time. I can't really say alot about this bit because there's no that much information so uh. Pure vanilla cookie's soul jam is kinda really strange, like why does it look like this

It's so strange, pure vanilla's soul jam is the only one that looks different when in its non physical form. There's not really much I can say about this since nothing in the game ever comments on this, although there is something interesting where whenever the light of truth talks to pure vanilla cookie his soul jam appears on screen in comparison whenever shadow milk cookie talks to pure vanilla whilst pretending to be the light of truth this doesn't happen which means me think that shadow milk is unaware of pure vanilla's soul jam being like it is, just some food for thought

Now we finally talk personality and in terms of character the new updates have been a all you can eat buffet, but we're here to talk suspicious things incase you've forgotten which you probably have by now. It was mentioned in a post by piromina that pure vanilla is being mighty suspicious especially during that ending part of beacon of truth and it has made me think a little. When the other golden cheese and dark cacao cookie awakened they did so by denying the ideology of their counterparts (I think, I don't remember completely) but pure vanilla doesn't. Instead of doing something like I dunno just believing real hard he tricks shadow milk cookie, something that shadow milk would do himself. Also that lie shall vanquish a lie line was pretty concerning, I don't think pure vanilla cookie is entirely ok (I hope he isn't, I hope devsis puts him in the metaphorical torture blender again \affectionate)

Oooo suprise shadow milk section. Uh "why is this here? Isn't this supposed to be the pure vanilla cookie conspiracy?" don't worry about it, I just discovered some stuff during my crappy research and thought I should bring them up

So fun things I found, shadow milk eye motif on the walls of that one cave, y'know that one cave with the tapestrys of pure vanilla, it's that one and the weird blueberry eye plant things in city of wizards so that's cool

Uuuhh ya tgis was uh fun definitely helped with the brain worms I would do more character analysis stuff but I'm too tired to, maybe I'll come back another day, who knows

[curated-hdg]

Golden Ladder by AshInBloom

Released: February 2024

221k words, 44 chapters

Status: Ongoing; weekly chapter releases

Notable tags: Little Sprout, Furry, A/B/O

Cory Kàfkore is a runner. He’s been running all his life. Running away from bullies, away from home, away from responsibility, even away from himself. So what does Cory do when the Affini arrive on his doorstep? He does what he does best: he runs. Asherah Riker, Third Bloom, knows more about terran physiology than any affini she has ever met. She loves terrans. Some might even say she’s obsessed with them. But Riker knows that sometimes, even if you want something real bad, you shouldn't have it.

If I had to describe the most important feature of Ash's writing, it's emotional catharsis. AshInBloom builds solid, relatable characters, and then carefully and respectfully uses them to slide daggers into your heart. Cory Kàfkore is a phenomenally well-realized character, and watching her (it's HDG, "main character is an egg" doesn't count as a spoiler) take her first stumbling steps into the Affini Compact and into loving herself is beautiful and joyful and heart-wrenching in equal measure. And somehow, she isn't the most useless lesbian in this story. Truly fascinating.

This fic also features Tsundra, one of the community's favorite blorbos. Tsundra sucks, and we love her. The least charismatic xenrani ever. Flirts via business card. Stands up in a trial to talk about how she fucked the defendant. Wears hawaiian shirts.

(Art by Sheepwave; taken from from Master, Daddy, and Kitten by AshinBloom and Sheepwave)

An epic failgirl, we must stan. Still not the most useless lesbian in the story.

But yeah. Ash is amazing at tugging the heartstrings, because ultimately, Golden Ladder is a deeply personal, deeply effective story about becoming what you always were, and finally being allowed to heal and rest. About trusting yourself to love, despite the possible consequences. I'm pretty sure I've cried every chapter for the last 3 or 4 of this story. There was a certain chapter where it was revealed that Cory is a self-insert character, and Ash was worried that people would react negatively to it. My immediate reaction was "Oh, that explains why this story has been so raw and vulnerable!"

Let this be a lesson to all of us: casual self-inserts: good, actually.

Golden Ladder is an amazing story with amazing characters, and as it starts to head towards its conclusion, I'm glad to be along for the ride.

(Fun fact: when spoken, "Kàfkore" sounds an awful lot like "Cock-Whore". This is somehow not intentional.)

[super-ion]

I turn on the faucet, splash some water on my face, look up and-

“Fuck!”

Instinct takes control, spinning me around to look for the intruder that isn't there. My elbow bangs painfully on the wall of the cramped washroom.

“Sorry,” Libby mumbles from somewhere over my left shoulder as far as my brain can tell.

I flinch slightly, resisting the urge to search for the source of the phantom sound.

A different instinct tries to kick in, detached and rational, trying to let my panicked lizard brain know that there is no one who can possibly be in the room with me.

Both voices are wrong. Libby is definitely in the room with me, she just isn't hunched over by the door like when I spotted her out of the corner of my eye in the mirror.

I rub my smarting elbow and try not to think about the itch that has started up where the chitinous mass of her shell has grafted itself to my spine.

But trying not to think about it has the opposite effect. My stomach sinks in response to an emotion that isn't my own.

“I'm sorry,” she repeats.

“Can you please stop apologizing?” I sigh.

“I'm…”

A tingle of frustration jitters through her, tingling through the ganglia that are currently wrapped around my brainstem.

I look back at the mirror, focusing on my own face to let the apparition of her appear again in the corner of my vision. I still can't decide exactly who my brain decided it wanted her to be. I can only ever see her in the periphery. She's just a sort of vague out of focus figure. A random stranger in a cafe I saw once maybe. A curtain of hair and an oversized sweatshirt.

I still don't know why I named her Libby.

“Something on your mind?” I ask her as I pick up the razor.

I set it down again. I haven't needed to shave at all in six days.

“This is like the scorpion and the frog thing? Isn't it?” she asks after a moment.

“The what?” I ask, somewhat befuddled

“I heard Carson and Reggie talking about it when you were asleep,” she explains. “Some kind of story about being unable to resist our nature. I'm the scorpion, aren't I?”

I feel my lips tug slightly into a frown. Her species can't hear, at least not in the way humans do. And I was also not previously aware that she could actually understand spoken Engelsk. I don't know what it all means, but it leaves me disquieted.

She senses my mood and I feel another apology coming on.

“Do you even know what a scorpion is?” I ask, heading her off.

“I…”

Her frustration becomes somewhat bemused.

“Well no,” she admits. “I thought it was kind of like a…”

I don't have a word for the mental image she sends me. Some kind of nightmare arachnid from some unnamed alien desert.

“Yeah, close enough,” I say, somewhat terrified.

“I can't escape my nature,” she says. “I can't stop my biology from changing you. But you aren't a typical host for my species. What if I'm killing you?”

I sigh.

“You're not killing me.”

“But the medications-”

“Are for you as much as me,” I interrupt. “Auto-doc doesn't know shit about how to handle this situation. It doesn't want my body rejecting you before we get to a real medical facility.”

Gods below, but I am tired of the nasty cocktail of immunosuppressants.

“Why did you decide not to go into stasis for the trip back?” she asks in a small voice.

I knew this question was coming. I had been asking myself exactly the same thing constantly since I chose to stay conscious and ride out whatever Libby was doing to my body.

I studied my face in the mirror, the softness of the jaw, the smoothness. My eyes wandered down to my chest, where soft aching mounds were taking shape. I thought about the very real possibility of her repurposing my reproductive system, filling me with her eggs and-

No. Nope, I was definitely not thinking about that outside of the privacy of my own quarters.

Regardless, the thoughts had my heart racing.

“What if…”

Fuck, could I even say this aloud?

“What if we got to Persephone Station and we… didn't go through with the extraction procedure?”

“What?”

“What if we stayed together and… I don't know, tried to work something out?”

I saw that post about that one kind of barnacle that forcefemmes crabs and it may have planted a plot bunny in my head.

Human ship responds to distress call from alien ship. It's critically damaged and the crew is mostly dead. Human MC gets exposed to parasite, but their ship lacks a medical suite capable of extracting it safely and since it is technically sapient they can't legally remove it

MC has to cope as "his" body starts changing and he starts hallucinating an avatar of the very apologetic parasite

[odysseys-blood]

i think its very fun to consider the mc as another king like obviously not the same way as the devil kings but in two ways: one being that you are the descendant of the wise king, solomon, and what he had has been inherited by you, but also as in the mc having rule over a very small, but wholly devoted kingdom.

and by that i mean minhyeok.

sure it was a kids game, him swearing his loyalty to you and you ordaining him as your knight, but that kids game became his reality. he is your only subject but he will never leave you. whatever he can do to protect you, he'll jump to it in a heartbeat even if in the end it costs him his life. but a king cannot be a king with no one to rule, which is why when it was your turn to save him there was no hesitation to literally make a deal with the devil to keep him alive. and he will wait as long as it takes until you return and he can be by your side again

[ifyourereadingthisblinktwice]

just finished the poppy war trilogy what the FUCK WAS THATTTT

[platypusisnotonfire]

I just found a draft of a WIP I totally forgot I was writing when I was a teenager and it is digging its claws into me

This book is really barely more than Strong Vibes but it had a character that was raised in a more intense and even more soulless version of the peacekeepers in Farscape, like military society, kids trained from basically birth, don’t know their families, but now with Even More Brainwashing and Creepy Cultlike Stuff.

Character doesn’t even have a name or permanent numerical designation, the absolutely only identifying thing they have is a chip in their wrist that is only readable by computers and is used when assigning missions. On every mission you get a different designation number or code name. They are stripped SO completely of any sense of identity.

Character never been on a planet, never even was taught about planets in schooling or taught what a family is or anything even academically. Has no concept of gender because reproduction is completely done in a lab and no biology of any type is ever taught to the grunt soldiers.

Additionally: never heard music.

Turns out they are an absolute musical prodigy the SECOND they are introduced to music

Like off the charts August rush nonsense.

Then proceeds to have crisis after crisis about that because if I wasn’t taught this then it must be heresy, but how could anything so perfect and beautiful not be from god

[rubber-glovs]

Oooohhh the urge to yap about my ocs and the world they live in......

[deadbeandrop]

ahem. and if i may be completely unwell about the moose and slug for a moment,

i keep thinking about a post-story scene where lumpus and slinkman's relationship is still in rocky territory, and they have like... kind of a half-arguement getting ready for bed and it doesn't really go anywhere but there's still a tension in the air, and then a moment of silence as they settle and face each other in the dark. there's a beat. and then slinkman just... reaches over to take lumpus' glasses off (he'd always been in the habit of adjusting them over the years), and he's confused for a second, and slinkman's just like "you shouldn't sleep with those on. you're going to break them" which is like, ah, yes, completely logical action, and something he's told him a million times,

but it's Also like "Oh, God. even when you don't have to anymore, and you said you'd stop doing it all the time, and you're mad at me, you're still taking care of me just because you care enough to that it's complete subconscious instinct for you to do so. i'm gonna jump off a cliff"

because, when you're in the dark, in complete silence, sharing a shoddy pull-out couch bed in the basement of your stupid hand-me-down bait-and-tackle shop with your life-long best friend, your only friend, almost a bit like you used to when you'd push your beds closer together at night the camp you loved all those years ago, well, then there's also nothing else around to distract from the fact that you appreciate that more than anything in the entire world

and so lumpus takes a second and is like ....Right. (voice crack) Of course. and turns to face the ceiling and feels like he's going to be sick <- (i love nausea being one of lumpus' gut responses to feeling things ❤️)

[arolesbianism]

I wanna take a crack at making some fake screenshot graphics for my Sif Odile duo loopers au but I do not feel confident enough in my ability to mimic isat's art style and I also have a crippling fear of drawing backgrounds

[magiefish]

Turlough gone.

My boy :(

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

In case it's hard to read/understand: "If I had a nickel for every time I had a story with a blonde girl named after a plant, who has a German father and a French mother but absolutely hates said mom, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice."

weird, extremely-specific tropes in my stories: pt 1

[wesavegotham]

Obviously I have no idea where Tom Taylor will be going with his Dark Knights of Steel elseworld, but the first book pushes the idea that Bruce, despite being a bastard (he's the illegitimate son of late Queen Martha and Jor-El in this) should inherit the throne one day since he's the only one related to the original monarchs of the kingdom, and I can't help but imagine Bruce sitting one the throne one day and he swears to himself to only sire "trueborn children" so no biologically related child of his would ever suffer from growing up as a bastard like he did...and then Damian is introduced to him.

[leavemetoplaythesims]

i think about my stupid stories all day long but as soon as i sit and to try to write it down nothing becomes like it is in my head.