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Subtle | FWFW Extra

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WC: 3.2

Summary: Harry subtly, and not so subtly, says he wants to have a baby

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Main Masterlist

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The first instance was so subtle that Y/N almost missed it. They were walking through Hampstead Heath on a crisp autumn afternoon, with the leaves turning gold and crimson around them. A young mother passed by with a stroller, her baby bundled up against the chill. Harry's eyes lingered on the infant longer than usual, a slight smile playing at his lips before he turned his attention back to their conversation about his upcoming studio session.

A week later, they were having breakfast in their sunlit kitchen. Harry was scrolling through his phone while Y/N reviewed case notes for her internship, Grumps watching them both with his perpetual look of feline judgment from his perch on the windowsill.

"My cousin Ellie just had her baby," Harry commented casually, turning his phone to show Y/N a photo of a tiny newborn with a shock of dark hair. "Seven pounds, healthy delivery."

"That's wonderful," Y/N replied, glancing up from her notes. "She looks beautiful."

Harry nodded, his expression thoughtful as he gazed at the image. "Yeah, she does," he said softly, before setting his phone aside and returning to his breakfast.

The third hint came when they were reorganizing the guest bedroom that doubled as Y/N's study. Harry paused in the middle of moving a bookshelf, surveying the room with a contemplative expression.

"This room gets great natural light," he observed, glancing toward the large windows that overlooked their garden. "Good for a nursery, don't you think?"

Y/N looked up from the box of books she was unpacking, a slight furrow in her brow. "I suppose it would be," she agreed cautiously. "Though it works well as a study too."

Harry nodded, seemingly satisfied with her response. "Just thinking aloud," he said lightly, returning to the task at hand.

The hints became slightly more transparent when Harry's sister Gemma visited with her toddler son. Harry spent most of the afternoon with the boy on his hip or playing on the floor, his natural ease with children evident in every interaction. Later, as they were preparing dinner after Gemma had left, Harry's expression was wistful.

"James is getting so big," he commented, chopping vegetables with practiced efficiency. "It goes by fast, doesn't it?"

"Mmm," Y/N hummed noncommittally, stirring the pasta sauce.

"You were great with him today," Harry continued, glancing at her with a small smile. "Very patient when he kept wanting to show you the same toy car over and over."

Y/N laughed softly. "He's a sweet kid. Easy to be patient with."

"Our kids would be like that, I think," Harry said, his tone deliberately casual despite the weight of his words. "Sweet-natured but persistent when they want something."

Y/N nearly dropped her wooden spoon, caught off-guard by the direct reference. "Our hypothetical children seem to have quite the personality profile already," she managed, keeping her tone light.

Harry just smiled, a dimple appearing in his cheek as he returned to his chopping.

The following week, they were shopping for new bedding when Harry inexplicably detoured to the children's section of the department store. Y/N found him examining a tiny pair of pajamas with dinosaurs printed on them, a soft expression on his face.

"Aren't these brilliant?" he asked when he noticed her watching him. "Look at the little feet."

Y/N approached cautiously, eyeing the admittedly adorable sleepwear. "Very cute," she agreed. "But I think we should focus on the sheets we actually came for?"

Harry reluctantly returned the pajamas to the display, but not before adding, "I always loved dinosaurs as a kid. Would be fun to share that with a little one."

Y/N merely raised an eyebrow, steering him back toward the bedding department.

The hints became even more obvious when Harry rearranged his touring schedule, declining several international festival offers that would have kept him away for extended periods.

"Don't you usually do the Australian circuit?" Y/N asked, peering over his shoulder at the calendar on his laptop.

Harry shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Wanted to be home more next year," he explained. "Keep my options open."

"Options for what?" Y/N pressed, sensing there was more to his decision.

Harry swiveled in his chair to face her fully, his green eyes meeting hers with unexpected intensity. "For whatever might come up," he said meaningfully. "Life changes. I want to be prepared for that."

Y/N narrowed her eyes slightly, understanding dawning. "Are you rearranging your entire career schedule around a hypothetical baby that we haven't even discussed having?"

Harry had the grace to look slightly abashed, though determination still shone in his expression. "Not entirely," he hedged. "But I'm thinking ahead. Isn't that what responsible potential parents do?"

Y/N shook her head, torn between exasperation and a reluctant tenderness at his planning. "Harry, we should probably have an actual conversation about this before you start declining career opportunities."

Harry nodded, reaching for her hand. "You're right," he acknowledged. "I'm getting ahead of myself. But I'm ready for that conversation whenever you are."

The subtlety was completely abandoned a few days later when Grumps knocked over a potted plant, spilling soil across the kitchen floor. Harry was sweeping up the mess while Y/N scolded the unrepentant cat, who watched the cleanup efforts from the safety of the counter.

"You're a menace in your old age," Y/N informed the orange feline, who blinked at her slowly in what could only be described as feline disdain.

"He's just asserting his dominance," Harry chuckled, emptying the dustpan into the bin. "Probably worried about his position as the baby of the family."

Y/N shot him a look. "The only baby in this family is the twenty-seven-year-old rock star who refuses to put his dirty socks in the hamper," she retorted.

Harry grinned, unperturbed by her deflection. "I was thinking more along the lines of an actual baby," he clarified unnecessarily. "You know, small human, cries a lot, utterly adorable?"

Y/N crossed her arms, unable to avoid the conversation any longer. "Harry."

"Y/N," he countered, setting the broom aside and stepping closer to her.

"You've been dropping hints about babies for weeks now," she said, trying to keep her tone measured. "Some subtle, some about as subtle as a brick through a window."

Harry didn't deny it. "And you've been expertly dodging every single one," he pointed out, though there was no accusation in his voice, only a gentle observation.

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her golden-brown hair. "It's a big conversation to have," she said quietly. "Life-changing."

"I know," Harry acknowledged, his expression softening as he reached for her hands. "That's why I've been trying to ease into it. Apparently not very successfully."

Despite herself, Y/N smiled. "The dinosaur pajamas weren't exactly subtle."

Harry laughed, the sound warm and rich in the quiet kitchen. "I got excited," he admitted. "They had little claws on the feet."

Y/N shook her head, but allowed him to pull her closer, his arms encircling her waist as he looked down at her with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

"So," he said softly. "Can we have that conversation now? The baby one?"

Y/N studied his face, the earnest green eyes, the slight nervous tension in his jaw, the vulnerability he was allowing her to see, and felt something shift inside her chest.

"Yes," she agreed quietly. "Let's talk about it."

Harry's face lit up with such naked hope that Y/N felt her heart constrict. "Really?"

"Really," she confirmed. "But talking is all I'm committing to right now," she added quickly, seeing his enthusiasm. "This isn't a yes to actually having a baby."

Harry nodded seriously, though he couldn't quite suppress his smile. "Understood. Just talking."

He led her to the sofa in their living room, sitting close enough that their knees touched. Grumps followed at a dignified pace, jumping up to claim his usual spot at the far end, watching them with a suspicious yellow eye as if he understood perfectly well what they were discussing.

"So," Y/N began, feeling slightly awkward now that they were actually having the conversation. "You want to have a baby."

Harry nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I do," he confirmed. "With you, specifically."

The clarification made Y/N smile despite her nervousness. "Well, I should hope so," she teased. "Why now, though? We've only been married a year."

Harry considered this, his thumb absently stroking the back of her hand. "It's not really about timing in the conventional sense," he said slowly. "It's more that... I'm ready. I feel settled in a way I never have before. My career is established, we're solid, and..." he paused, searching for the right words. "I want to build something permanent with you. Something that's ours."

The simplicity and sincerity of his answer touched Y/N deeply. For someone who had spent most of his adult life in the transient world of entertainment, surrounded by people who came and went, the desire for permanence was profound.

"What about your career?" she asked, voicing one of her practical concerns. "You're still touring, recording. A baby would change all that."

Harry nodded, acknowledging the reality. "It would," he agreed. "But I've been thinking about that. I can scale back touring, be more selective about projects. Work from home more. I don't need to be on the road as much as I used to be."

He squeezed her hand gently. "And I know your career is important too," he added. "I'm not suggesting you give anything up. We'd figure it out together, find a balance that works for both of us."

Y/N appreciated his consideration, though she still had reservations. "It's a huge responsibility," she said quietly. "Once we make that decision, there's no going back."

"I know," Harry acknowledged, his expression serious. "And I wouldn't suggest it if I wasn't absolutely certain about us, about our future together."

His gaze held hers, steady and sure. "I love you, Y/N. More than I ever thought possible. And I want to share that love with a child, our child."

Y/N felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, unexpected emotion welling up at his words. "I love you too," she whispered.

From his end of the sofa, Grumps let out a disgruntled meow, apparently unimpressed by the display of human sentiment.

Harry laughed softly, breaking the intensity of the moment. "See, even Grumps has an opinion," he joked, reaching over to scratch the cat behind his ears. Grumps allowed this attention for precisely three seconds before swatting at Harry's hand with retracted claws, a warning rather than an actual attack.

"I think he's voting no," Y/N observed with a small smile.

"He'll come around," Harry predicted confidently. "Probably appoint himself guardian and supervisor. He already thinks he runs this household."

"Doesn't he, though?" Y/N teased.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling around them. Finally, Y/N spoke again, her voice soft but steady.

"I'm not saying no," she clarified, meeting Harry's hopeful gaze. "But I'm not saying yes yet either. I need time to think about it properly. It's a big decision."

Harry nodded, bringing her hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. "Take all the time you need," he assured her. "I'm not going anywhere."

Y/N leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. "Thank you for being patient with me," she murmured.

Harry smiled, his green eyes warm with affection. "Always," he promised, before closing the small distance between them for a tender kiss.

Grumps watched this exchange with feline disdain before jumping down from the sofa and stalking away toward the kitchen, tail held high. Human mating rituals were clearly beneath his dignity, especially when they threatened to disrupt the peaceful kingdom over which he presided. Some battles, even a cat knew, were lost before they began.

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Later that night, as moonlight filtered through the partially drawn curtains of their bedroom, Harry and Y/N lay tangled in their sheets. What had begun as gentle goodnight kisses had evolved into something more heated, their conversation from earlier seeming to have kindled a particular intensity in Harry.

His lips trailed down her neck, lingering at the sensitive spot just below her ear that always made her breath catch. His hands wandered over her body with familiar reverence, tracing the curves he'd come to know so intimately over the past year.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he murmured against her collarbone, his voice deeper than usual, roughened with desire.

Y/N's fingers threaded through his hair, her body arching instinctively as he moved lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses across the swell of her breasts. He took his time, as he always did, savoring each response he drew from her, the slight hitch in her breathing when he grazed her nipple with his teeth, the soft moan when his tongue soothed the sting.

But tonight, there was something different in his attention, a new focus that became apparent as he continued his journey down her body. When he reached her stomach, his pace slowed deliberately, his kisses turning almost reverential. His large hands spanned her waist, thumbs gently stroking the soft skin of her abdomen.

"So perfect," he whispered, pressing his lips just below her navel. "You'd be so beautiful pregnant."

Y/N's eyes, which had drifted closed in pleasure, snapped open at his words.

Harry didn't seem to notice her reaction, continuing his attentive worship of her midsection. "Our baby would grow right here," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. "Safe and loved."

He pressed another kiss lower on her stomach, his hands sliding to cradle her hips. "You'd be the most gorgeous pregnant woman," he continued, his voice a mixture of awe and desire. "Carrying our child."

Y/N couldn't help the giggle that escaped her, a combination of the ticklish sensation of his stubble against her sensitive skin and the sheer transparency of his intentions.

"Harry," she said, her voice tinged with amusement as she tugged gently at his hair, urging him to look up at her.

He raised his head, his green eyes dark with desire but questioning.

Y/N smiled down at him, shaking her head slightly. "I got the hint already," she laughed softly, pulling him up toward her.

Harry had the grace to look slightly sheepish, though there was no real contrition in his expression. "What hint?" he asked with exaggerated innocence, even as a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"The very subtle baby propaganda you're currently conducting," Y/N replied dryly, cupping his face in her hands.

Harry grinned, not bothering to deny it. "Is it working?" he asked, pressing a kiss to her palm.

"It's a bit transparent," she informed him, trying to maintain her stern expression despite the warmth spreading through her at his eager enthusiasm.

"Can't blame a man for trying," he murmured, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss that quickly rekindled the heat between them.

When they parted, both slightly breathless, Y/N regarded him with fond exasperation. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"Part of my charm," he agreed without hesitation, his hands resuming their exploration of her body, though he pointedly avoided lingering on her stomach again.

Y/N laughed, the sound turning into a gasp as his fingers found their way between her thighs, discovering how ready she was for him despite, or perhaps partly because of, his transparent attempts at persuasion.

"Fuck," he breathed, his expression darkening with renewed desire. "You're so wet for me."

His touch became more purposeful, circling her clit with practiced precision that had her arching beneath him. "Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice a low rumble against her ear.

"Yes," she gasped, her hips moving instinctively against his hand.

He slid two fingers inside her, curling them just right as his thumb continued its maddening circles. "Or do you want my cock?" he questioned, his crude language a stark contrast to the tender words he'd been whispering moments before.

Y/N moaned, her body tightening around his fingers. "Your cock," she answered without hesitation, past the point of coyness or teasing.

Harry's eyes darkened further at her words, and he withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to taste her as he positioned himself between her thighs. The sight of him licking her arousal from his fingers with such obvious pleasure sent another rush of heat through her.

"No more baby talk," she warned breathlessly, even as she wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him closer.

Harry smirked, lining himself up against her entrance. "For now," he conceded, before pushing into her with one smooth thrust that had both of them groaning.

He set a deliberate pace, deep and thorough, his eyes locked on hers as he moved within her. One hand gripped her hip while the other braced beside her head, giving him leverage to drive into her with increasing intensity.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he growled, his composure gradually unraveling as their bodies moved together. "So tight around my cock."

Y/N responded in kind, her nails digging into his back as she met each thrust. "Harder," she demanded, beyond coherent thought as pleasure built within her.

Harry complied immediately, his hips snapping against hers with renewed force. "Like this?" he panted, adjusting the angle slightly to hit exactly where she needed him.

"Yes," she gasped, her head falling back against the pillows as the tension coiled tighter in her core. "Don't stop."

"Wasn't planning on it," he assured her, his rhythm becoming more erratic as his own control began to slip. "Come for me, love. Want to feel you come on my cock."

His crude encouragement, combined with the relentless friction where their bodies joined, pushed Y/N over the edge. She cried out, her body clenching around him as waves of pleasure crashed through her.

Harry followed shortly after, driven past restraint by the sight and sensation of her climax. He buried himself deep inside her with a final thrust, her name a rough prayer on his lips as he found his own release.

They remained connected as they caught their breath, Harry's weight a welcome pressure above her. Eventually, he shifted to lie beside her, drawing her close against his chest as their heartbeats gradually slowed to normal.

After a comfortable silence, Y/N tilted her head to look up at him, a mixture of amusement and affection in her hazel eyes. "Just so we're clear," she said, her voice still slightly husky, "amazing sex isn't going to make me decide about having a baby any faster."

Harry laughed, the sound rumbling pleasantly beneath her ear where it rested against his chest. "Noted," he acknowledged, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Though it was worth a try."

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn't suppress her smile. "Like I said. Ridiculous."

Harry merely grinned, unrepentant, as he pulled her closer. "You love it," he murmured confidently.

And as she drifted toward sleep in the warm circle of his arms, Y/N had to admit, if only to herself, that he wasn't entirely wrong.

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a/n: I’d give this man as many babies as he wants

Taglist: @mysunflowerposts @lydiasfalling @panini @ell0ra-br3kk3r @donutsandpalmtrees @sunshinemoonsposts @angeldavis777 @fangirl509east @maudie-duan @indierockgirrl @harryssunflower17 @lizsogolden @daphnesutton @spinninc @behindmygreyeyes @wheredidmyeyesgo @matildasatellite @drewrry @inlikea-coolway @jerseygirlinca @nosebeers @triski73 @angeldavis777 @ivegotthecinemaa @bethiegurl19 @spinninc @spargelhund

[jjjjisun]

My Playmate, My Sister (Part 3)

Hanni X Irene X Male Reader | 14429 words

TW: Incest

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Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

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Hanni was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen; more than that, she was smoking hot. Her adorable facial features, soft blonde hair, fantastic personality, and many other attributes made her beautiful. Her breath-taking body, her breasts, that sexy way she walked, the way she teased me, that's what made her hot.

Hanni had returned from "school" only a few weeks before, and before she did, she had been, first and foremost, my sister. Now, that hadn't changed; we still shared that same love for each other, and I felt I needed to protect her as I always had. However, after the last two nights, we shared, sharing each other, and things deepened between us, and we agreed it was for the better. Hanni had always been a great sister, and we had always been very open with each other; talking about our romantic interests and often touching lightly upon the involved sexual activity was rarely out of the question. But this was a new type of openness; she was my sister and a fantastic lover.

I had seen Hanni on the cover of Playboy, her first shoot with them happening to catch my glance as I walked through a local convenience store. I had seen her in gallery upon gallery of subsequent photo shoots for the magazine, completely naked and sprawled out for me to see. I knew it wasn't just for me, and so did Playboy because they were planning on making her Playmate of the Year for all the success her nakedness had brought them. But when Hanni got home, what I saw was just for me; her sexiness and the perfection she'd brought to the pages of the world-famous magazine was within my grasp. Something clicked between the two of us, and whether it was the way I could not take my eyes off of her or the security and comfort she found in being in her brother's arms, I do not know. However, I know one thing now: I am the luckiest brother in the world.

It isn't all so romantic; having the cute little playmate around me and constantly recalling the feeling of being inside her and the desire to do so again is far from that. But can I be blamed? I mean, it's like everything she does plays right into my desire for her. From how she squeezes my leg as she lifts herself out of the car to the bouncy strut she pulls off as she crosses the causeway onto the boat... like I said, I couldn't take my eyes off her. As we made our way to the sailboat we'd agreed to take a trip on when our parents interrupted what was going to be a sex-filled week for the both of us, even the traveling outfit she wore had me at half-mast all day long. As I watched her checking out the boat from top to bottom, squealing at its more luxurious features, I took her in greedily.

That first day, she wore jean shorts that could have been painted on. Her cute butt taunted me as she leaned over the side rail and looked down at the cool blue water. If our parents and their friends hadn't been right there, I would have come up behind her and let us both feel my hips against hers as I pinned her against the rail. Above the shorts was a cropped, loose, and transparent top that hung over one shoulder at an angle, displaying the soft skin of her shoulder and neck and, of course, the sexy, muscular midsection that I couldn't get enough of. Under the top was a pink bikini, or maybe it was a bra... either way, it pushed her breasts up just so and even though I'd held them naked and complete in my hands, I felt like I'd never seen them before hidden underneath layers of clothing I just wanted to tear off.

She knew it too. Hanni smiled at me with every chance she got, and even wiggled her butt at me when she knew the others weren't looking. A few times, she'd catch my eye and then reach down to adjust her top, shaking her beautiful tits in place and pushing them up further; I had to sit down and catch my breath when she did that. She spent the few hours we took preparing the boat as an opportunity to drive me crazy over her. By the time we finally cast off and were leaving the harbor it was all I could do not to grab her tiny frame in my arm and drag her downstairs to fuck her silly for all the trouble she'd put me through.

But we finally cast off and got out to sea, and things calmed down a bit. We sat on soft, colorful cushions in the stern of the boat with the sail billowing above us and a cool breeze brushing back the wisps of hair that had fallen from behind Hanni's ear. Hanni draped my arm over her innocently, and we chatted about everything under the sun with the adults. When it came to Hanni's college life, I had to play it extremely cool, knowing that she hadn't told anyone from home about her work with Playboy. But we made it through and chatted as the luxurious sailboat cut through the ocean waves and out further and further until land was only a dot on the horizon.

Hanni was hands-down the hottest female under the Pacific sun that day if you asked me, but that wasn't really a fair contest, and another woman aboard was giving her some competition. The man my parents had been invited aboard was an old work friend of my dad's and his new wife. My dad and his friend Jinwoo were successful partners at a law firm and had done very well for themselves, including the women they had married. My parents were getting older, though still in great shape. Jinwoo was much the same: a good-looking guy with a kind disposition and salt-and-pepper gray hair that, combined with the apparent wealth, had brought him Irene. Irene seemed to be a great wife for him, loving and trustworthy, but obviously, that wasn't the only reason he'd chosen her for the long haul.

Irene was young, probably only in her early thirties, and didn't even look that. She had long, wavy black hair. Jinwoo was proud of marrying her, and I'd heard him boasting about his sex life with the gorgeous brunette to my dad on more than one occasion - sure, he was a generous guy, but as money often does to people, he was also kind of a tool. Still, I thought 'good for him' as I saw him not-so-innocently holding his wife against him in their place across from me. I might have even found myself desiring her if I didn't have the soft skin of my sister pressed against my shirtless torso, reminding me that there was nothing more desirable than her. When Jinwoo playfully grabbed at Irene's thigh, I glanced over at Hanni, and when our eyes met, I knew their antics were turning her on.

Irene stood up at one point (I couldn't help but notice that she had a great body as I saw her stretch in front of us) and invited Hanni to help her get drinks:

"Hey girlfriend, want to help me throw some margaritas together for everybody?"

In her usually bubbly tone, Hanni responded, "Sure, Irene, lead the way."

As they headed below deck I watched both of their bikini covered asses swish back and forth on their way to the hatch and then disappear. When they returned, I was blessed with the view of their front. Irene was not as alluring to me as Hanni, but she was just right in her sexy way. Hanni must have caught me checking out Irene because she gave me a squinty, knowing look as she sat down and handed me the slushy drink. We chatted some more, and Hanni kept up her antics. She scooted closer into me and licked her lips when I looked at her; she was unbearable.

By the time Irene suggested that we drop anchor and go for a swim as the sun set, I was completely stiff and struggling to position my penis so that it didn't bare itself for anyone to see. Hanni knew of course, and even wrapped as much of her hand around it as she could when we were the last ones on deck before she hopped in the water. I was going to teach her a lesson that night for sure.

We waded in the water, with more back-and-forth chatter and a floating tray of drinks between us. Everyone stayed pretty warm in the cool water, with all the alcohol being passed around. Hardly anyone noticed when Hanni challenged me to a race and took off before I could say yes, heading for the front of the boat. I caught up to her and grabbed her ankle, pulling her tiny frame back and feeling it brush along as I passed her.

She screamed, "Cheater!" as I swam to the front of the boat and made contact with it before she could. I looked at her with boastful pride as she paddled the rest of the distance to me, defeated. I grabbed her hand and helped her float next to me; she was tired from the swim.

"That's not fair," Hanni complained.

"I'll tell you what's not fair..."

Now, we were concealed from the view of our parents, Irene and Jinwoo, at the front of the boat. I could still hear them laughing and bantering as I lifted Hanni's hands over her head to a bar in the railing. She held them there, lifted ever so slightly out of the water.

"What's not fair is all the teasing you've been doing all day and the fact that I could do nothing about it. That's not fair."

She was stretched out in front of me, and her legs wrapped around me, helping me to float there and pulling me closer to her. So much skin...so much of her flawless body was on display for me, and her beautiful stomach, the subtle protrusion of her ribcage from her lifted arms...I was in heaven.

"What will you do about it, bro?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

I took both hands and planted them firmly on either side of her waist, sending them upwards and hearing her breathe out sexily in appreciation. It was answer enough for her and she approved further when I pushed the tip of my cock against her mound. Even covered in hers and my bathing suits, it was apparent that her head was indenting lightly into her, and if it wasn't, then her involuntary gasp proved it.

"Oh God... this is so naughty with them right over there....just like when you..." I thrust again "Ooohh Oppa..... just like when you fucked me in the car last night."

"Just like I'm going to tonight..." I told her, holding my hands over her breasts and massaging them.

"Mmmm, how about right now?" she tested.

I looked into her eyes, searching to see whether she was serious. I mean, our little secret fuck in the car was risky in itself, but only 30 feet away in broad daylight were four people that could catch us and make for a very awkward sailing trip. She looked serious.

"I don't know about that..." I said.

I knew we were taking too many risks; there was so much to lose, and I didn't think I could stand having Hanni any way other than she was to me now. Hanni knew too, but she seemed too entranced in our foreplay to give it much thought. It may have been risky, but her body just felt terrific in my greedy hands, and Hanni was more than loving the attention. I kept repeating the pressure between her pussy lips and Hanni cooed a few times at the stimulation of her thin bottoms grinding against her clit. My resolve was chipping away by the second...

I heard one of the adults laugh loudly at a joke on the other side of the boat, and it caught Hanni's attention. As she looked in their direction, I promptly took advantage of her distraction and swiped simultaneously at the strings behind her neck and torso. Hanni scoffed and tried to reach for her sui,t but I was too fast. I locked one hand around the fingers of her left hand, holding it immutably against the rail above. The other pulled her top away so fast she couldn't even come close to grabbing it back with her right hand.

"You are ridiculous," she said, looking at me sideways, but I was hardly paying attention.

With her hand over her head her tits hung spectacularly, glistening from the water and high on her chest. I could see her muscles stretching to hold her up, from her flat tummy that disappeared into the water below up to her neck. Dear God, I'll never see a more beautiful sight than that in my entire life.

"Like what you see? Mmmm..." she sighed when I took her hanging breast into my hand and caressed it gently with the tips of my fingers. My fingernails grazed the skin, and then I just held her breast in my hand, feeling her goose bumps against my palm with my fingers on her perky pink nipple. I'd never felt anything so amazing before I swore to myself, and this wasn't the first time I'd had my hands wrapped around her perfect chest. Hanni just kept getting better and better, and I wanted to make love to her right there with our parents and their friends so dangerously close.

"Jesus Hanni, I swear you're the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen."

"Awww... you're so sweet ...mmmhh... And just think, I'm all yours..." she whispered, positively glowing from my compliment. She probably knew how I felt before I'd said it; my cock had grown even more enormous and complicated as I continued to prod at her covered slit with it gently. Hanni maneuvered her free hand so that her palm lay against my strong abs, and then she pushed it downward and painfully slowly. Under the waistband of my shorts, it went down further...until only her thumb and forefinger were touching the base of my stiff shaft.

I cringed; the feeling of her tiny hand on my steel-hard rod was phenomenal. I brought my head down to her chest, holding one of her soft breasts up and taking her nipple into my lips.

"Oooh, be careful! I'm really sensitive there," she shrieked. I backed off only slightly, trailing my tongue around the tiny areola before circling the erect little nub. Hanni was breathing harder, and it made me happy for her to enjoy my worship of her chest. As I finally took the whole nipple into my mouth and then sucked at it gently, Hanni wrapped around as much of my cock as she could get her hand on in one swift motion.

"I'm sensitive there too, ahhhh," I mocked. As I said it, Hanni firmly stroked up and down on my shaft, wrapping her palm around my head before she returned her encircling fingers to my base once again. We were like teenagers; neither of us could get enough of each other fast enough as we'd been able to display painfully little affection all day. I kept sucking at erect nipple, and more aggressively now. Eventually, I began pinching it between my front teeth just enough to get her calling my name between deep breaths:

"... oh, Oppa..... If you keep doing that... ugh... I think I might..."

I was still grinding the tip of my cock into the depression in her bottoms that my efforts were making. My tip was now just entering her, impeded by our clothing but pleasing due to the cool water around us. She ensured I was lined up just right as she slid her hand up and down my prodding staff. She was loving it and as her panting picked up and I was stimulating both her nipples and clit I knew that I'd send her into climax soon. Hell, a few minutes more, and I would probably release a gallon of sperm into the water between us.

"gotta be.... OOohhhhH..... quiet," she was tryin tog talk herself into keeping silent but wasn't succeeding all that well. Her attention to my cock faltered but I couldn't have cared less; the gorgeous little playmate's orgasm was all I was focused on and I felt I owed it to her to...

"Y/N....... Hanni!" he sounded concerned. My dad was calling out our names from the other side of the boat. I hadn't even considered that they would worry about us after we had swum off and not returned.

"Yeah, Dad?" I answered, my head settled just an inch or less inside my sister; she was still heaving and didn't stop her attempts to keep my cock massaging her pussy.

"Where's Hanni?" He was yelling over the boat.

"I'm here, Daddy!" I was honestly surprised to hear her pull it together enough to respond.

"What are you guys doing? I don't want you drowning on my watch.

"We were just...mmmh," she was still so aroused and had only slightly come down. "Playing daddy... jeez we're not kids anymore." She squeezed my shaft as she said it.

"Alright, well, come on back over. We've got margaritas waiting for you!" He had no idea.

Hanni slumped into my arms, and I held us up with a hand still gripping the boat. She managed a few more frustrated thrusts against me before she gave in and looked into my eyes. They were so beautiful, even with disappointment for being held back and having been so close. A deep and mesmerizing combination of cool grey and lively green, they peered into me, and I was lost in her. Hanni's naked chest felt terrific against my chest and shoulders, bringing me out of my haze. We cuddled for a few too-short moments while Hanni accepted that I couldn't give her what she wanted unless we wanted to be found out.

She turned around, and I helped her wrap the tiny bikini top back around her, happily pausing to make sure the cups were supporting her breasts in the right way. My hands took their last chance to hold on to the pliable flesh before tying her strings and taking her back to the water. She shot me a glance that told me she knew exactly what I was after and then headed toward our parents. Even how she swam back, cutting through the water like a true athlete, added to her complete and utter prowess and perfection.

We returned to the circle and couldn't risk looking too longingly at each other, though we desperately wanted to—and a lot more than that. Nobody was the wiser, I comfortably assured myself. We chatted until the sun was only a glowing memory beneath the horizon and then climbed back on the deck. Hanni grabbed my arm and pulled me back from the group.

"Did you see Irene?" Her eyes were wide.

I thought I had been caught checking out the 30-something-year-old hottie, so I tried to deny it: "What... who... Oh her, yeah, she seems nice."

"No, silly," Hanni rolled her eyes. I know she's hot; I wouldn't blame you if you thought so. I mean, did you see the way she was looking at us?"

"No, I have no idea what you're talking about," I told her, concerned.

"She was staring at me pretty strangely. I think she knows what's up."

"No way, how could she? We were quiet, and it's not like we gave ourselves away before then..."

Just then, like clockwork, Irene popped her head around the corner. We were leaned over the edge of the boat inconspicuously, so it didn't make me nervous that she was seeing us together.

"Hey guys, so you want a burger or a brat?" she asked.

We both told her what we wanted and then relaxed a bit, she was being pretty normal for someone Hanni had just suspected of knowing I'd had my cock rubbing against my sister's pussy.

"Oh, and by the way, honey," she said quieter now, her grin speaking volumes as she said, "I think your top is inside out."

Hanni and I looked down simultaneously, and Irene disappeared around the corner. It wouldn't jump out at you if you weren't looking for it, but it was obvious. Hanni's suit was inside out, and Irene had noticed it after we returned from our little disappearance, hence the weird looks to Hanni.

"Oh god, do you think mom and dad noticed?" Hanni asked with fear in her eyes.

"No way. We got out of the water last, and they would have definitely said something. Irene must have seen it when we were swimming back. Mom and Dad were turned away from us then." I tried to comfort her, but it wasn't really working.

"Do you think she'll tell?" Hanni was only slightly less worried.

"No, she seems too cool to go making accusations like that." I retorted

"That's true, and I swear she was trying to coax something out of me when she told me she thought you were hot earlier."

I smiled widely, and my heart jumped when she said that. It felt pretty good that a beautiful woman like Irene thought I was handsome or 'hot,' as Hanni had said.

"Oh, you're unbelievable," Hanni slapped my arm. "I guess you can have her for the rest of this trip the," she said as she turned away from me.

"Oh, come on, Hanni!" I pulled at her sid,e but she didn't lean into me like she usually did. "She's got nothing on you. I can't walk around this boat without a huge bulge in my shorts with you in that bikini. It's torture not being able to show you and tell you every second how attracted to you I am!"

She looked over her shoulder at me, pouting but clearly affected by my compliment. I slipped my hand around her waist and felt the band of her bikini tickle my fingertips as they brushed over her hipbones. My hand rested on her tummy, only briefly with the knowledge of our shipmates only feet away. Hanni rotated in my grasp, my fingers trailing around her as she turned face to face with me and pushed in close. She glanced toward the direction of our parents, scanning to see if we were in sight of them. When she was satisfied nobody was watching, she stood up on her toes, the soles of her feet stretching and her back arching to bring her to the right height she planted a soft kiss on my lips. She lingered for only a second or two with her eyes looking right at the lips she'd just kissed, and then I watched my sister walk off around the corner and sit down like nothing had happened.

I followed a moment later (after the bulge in my trunks had settled to a manageable level) and sat down across from her. The last rays of sun skimmed over her long legs, crossed sexily and hanging down toward the wooden deck. I can hardly remember what we talked about now for the hour or so we sat around eating and chatting, Hanni's kiss and the many events of the day had me swimming in my own thoughts and fantasies. I imagined that nobody was there, and I crossed the gap between me and my little playmate sister, pinning her against the plush white cushions and ripping off her clothes.

The only thing to distract me was the delicious food...that and the way Irene had handed it off to me. I had been keeping an eye on her as she fidgeted around in front of the hot grill, scratching her leg with a raised foot here and tossing her hair around. She may have been married but she had not lost a hint of her youth and verve. Her swaying about while preparing our dinner already had me at alert, so when I saw her reach down and obviously fluff her tits in her striped bikini I was finding myself growing stiff already. Then she approached me with a plate of food and came closer than I expected; I was frozen to her. She leaned in, handing me the plate and lingering, bent over at the waist and setting it down on the table beside me. Her breasts were hanging magnificently, the flesh struggling against her top. Just before she stood up she caught my gaze and I knew that she'd seen what I was looking at. I'd have been mortified at being caught red-handed if the look in her eyes and upon her lips wasn't one of subtle mischief.

When the sun had gone all the way down, Jinwoo showed us the beautiful television screen that ascended from a hidden panel in the stern of the boat behind the mini-bar. The seats on the deck were also perfectly set up for viewing the movie he was about to put on: some romantic comedy to please the ladies on their first night aboard. Jinwoo opened up one of the cabinets and pulled out some thick, woven blankets, tossing one each to the couples and apologizing to Hanni and I that he didn't have one for each of us.

"They can share honey," Irene interjected quickly, "right guys?"

"Yeah it's no problem, sir, thanks!" Hanni said happily and tossed the blanket over both of us.

"Please Hanni, call me Jinwoo, Mr. makes me feel like my dad," Jinwoo joked while Hanni settled down and spread the blanket out over us.

The sun was all the way down now, and a light breeze ruffled Hanni's hair gently with her head laid upon my shoulder. She giggled when a few strands caught in my mouth and I spit them back out; I nudged her head to get her back. There was only the sound of the movie and the ocean breeze gently clanging a jib or a hook somewhere on deck. It was a beautiful night to be cozied up with my secret playmate, both the most gorgeous girl I'd ever made love to and my very own sister.

I was still half-mast myself from all of Irene's antics and the desire for my sister I'd been unable to act out all day. As I worked my hand to the inside of Hanni's thigh she wasted no time in finding my hardness through the outside of my shorts.

"Hmmmm....." she whispered in my ear, "you really like this movie huh...?"

"Oh Hanni...." I whispered back as Hanni ran her hand over the outline of my shaft and head.

She then began untying my strings, and the anticipation nearly killed me as I felt her working the laces through the holes to allow her easier access. When she'd finally got it she stopped once more to hold my cock through the fabric. All the while her efforts were concealed by the blanket over us. I looked around, nervous. 'God this is dangerous,' I thought, but I was in no state to object. By the time Hanni finally decided to free me from my fabric confines, I was so hard I thought I was going to rip my suit.

She traced her fingers from the bottom of my pole to the top in one, long stroke; her fingers were barely making contact. When she reached the top she equally slowly encircled me with her whole hand and then pushed it downward in one smooth stroke. It was unbelievable, something told me I couldn't even hope to do better myself. Hanni's nimble fingers, cooler than my red-hot member, felt glorious holding me like they were. I looked down to Hanni who's head was still nestled against me. She turned and planted a little kiss on my shoulder before looking back to the television to keep up our pretended innocence.

The pleasure was building and Hanni began to stroke me more hastily. I struggled to keep a straight face in case my parents were to turn around and look our way. They were dozing off together; my worries about them abated. I then turned my gaze toward Irene and Jinwoo. Jinwoo looked to be distracted with his phone and...............Irene was staring right at us.

Hanni was pumping me quickly now, and a close observer would see the blanket shivering atop us. Irene was a close observer; she didn't take her eyes off us as I neared orgasm. I knew I should tell Hanni that we were being watched....I knew....oh God, her hand was just stroking me so amazingly. Hanni had no idea that Irene could see her jerking her brother's cock under the blanket, and I was too consumed with her touch to risking jeopardizing it. I couldn't....I couldn't let this end before Hanni finished me off. Hanni was grinning as she looked directly toward the screen; she loved how she could feel my body flexing and relaxing and my cock pulsing in her hand. She wasn't the only one smiling though; Irene across the deck was watching the two of us, grinning naughtily and ignoring both her husband and the movie.

She made eye contact with me and raised her eyebrows, I knew we were had, but I could tell that Irene was far from giving us up. She licked her lips and stared at the two of us, brother and sister, nuzzled beneath the blanket her husband had given us and doing something very taboo.

I was close now. My hand was rubbing at Hanni's inner thigh more strongly, grasping at her tight skin and brushing back and forth across her covered mound. Hanni stroked faster, faster...up and down went her tiny hand. My balls ached for release and Hanni pumped above them to bring it. She grasped tighter, stimulating my sensitive head when she reached it each time and then jerking it down with the skin clasped in her tender palms. I could feel it coming, seconds away now. I looked from Hanni to Irene, and Irene could see my state as well as Hanni could feel it; her mouth was nearly opened and her eyes searched mine to see me climax.

A few more strokes...just a few more...Hanni was did not stop for a second, stroking me for all I was worth. I began to cum, my body first flexed in that first second or two. Then I felt the semen rising from within me, jetting across me onto Hanni's side. I was only vaguely aware of Irene's eyes upon me as I shot a second time onto my sister's abdomen and thigh. She was directing my cock toward her beneath the blanket, still coaxing more of my sperm out between us. A pump of it caught her thigh and some of mine; still I kept coming. The jizz was spewing onto her hand now, and my sister jerked me a few more times before I had to grab her hand to stop her.

We were both sticky and covered in my load beneath the blanket, but Hanni kept her hand wrapped around my cock, holding me firmly and not letting go. I looked back in Irene's direction; she smiled at me brightly and then scooted closer to her husband, taking her eyes off of us and back to the movie. I couldn't believe how turned on I was that Irene had just watched my sister jerk me off under a blanket like high-school lovers. I would have dwelled on it further, but I was spent. It was then that I felt Hanni wiping us off beneath the blanket with a towel of some sort. She cleaned off our skin, and then my partially softened penis, which was an unbearable feeling in itself. When she finished, she folded up the cloth and wrapped her arm around mine: a rather unassuming gesture if you forget that she'd just caused me to cum all over her. She took my hand in hers and passed me the cloth. I brought it from beneath the blanket and realized it wasn't a towel at all, it was her bottoms.

The thought of her tiny, naked butt and warm, wet pussy beneath the blanket had my cock swelling again. I edged my hand closer again to her inner thigh, nearing her center when she pushed my hand away and whispered.

"Uh uh uh, just hold me and watch the movie..." I pouted when she said that and she caught the look. "We'll pick up where we left off later, I promise."

That took the edge off a little, besides, having her in my arms was promise enough that good things were to come. She scooted close to me under the concealing blanket. She wrapped her spindly legs around me like a monkey and brought my hand around to hold her. She was warm, so warm and yielding to my touch.

"I love you so damn much Hanni." I told her and waited for her to look me in the eyes,

"I know baby bro, I love you too......." she was so quiet and whispering right into my ear now, "....and I want you to fuck me....sooo hard... when we're finally alone."

I grinned from ear to ear. I couldn't wait to do just that. I held Hanni's lithe, slender frame against me for the remainder of the movie, unworried about our parents as they slumbered away. Irene looked over at us occasionally and I saw her smile knowingly at Hanni more than once.

At some point Hanni pulled on my shirt and whispered to me..."She knows..."

We both knew it now, and we were also much more at ease with the way she was handling it. She gently grasped Hanni's knee on her way below deck with her husband, wishing us goodnight. Jinwoo instructed that we shut the TV off before we went below to the bedroom we'd be sharing. Our parents followed them down, leaving Hanni and I alone up top, excitement building in our hearts.

When we were certain they were gone for sure, we locked eyes and just stared. Hanni began edging closer to me and bringing her puffy, lip-gloss frosted lips near mine. She lingered amount before pushing in; we shared a long, tender kiss and our tongues flitted out to teas each other. She was so gentle and her lips felt feather-light and warm against mine. I ran a hand up her slender body, massaging her as it went. We eventually broke the kiss and Hanni settled her head into my lap.

We talked for over an hour. Hanni shared with me her thoughts and feelings on what posing with Playboy would bring in the coming years and I listened attentively. We talked about frivolous things like friends and food, all the while my hands played over her smooth belly and caressed her lovingly. The tone changed when we started talking about us.

"I really love being with you Hanni..." she caught my gaze and smiled lovingly. Her smile was endearing and lovely.

"Are you sure it's not these you love?" she asked, bringing my hand in one motion up to her breast and sliding it immediately under the fabric of her bikini.

As always I was thrilled to be holding her ample breasts in my hand. They were warm, and her skin so incredibly soft. Despite the feeling, however, I gazed at her deeply to let her know how serious I was about how happy she made me.

"I know, I'm only kidding; you make me feel so happy, and so sexy. I hope you won't mind coming out to California with me because I'm not doing it without you."

I was taken aback by the statement. She breathed slowly then, in and out, awaiting my reaction to what she knew had been a serious proposition. My first thought was to protest; I couldn't just up and leave my home, let alone to be with my Playboy playmate sister. Within seconds however I was coming to my senses; the beautiful creature in my arms was all I wanted. I'd have no trouble finding a good job anywhere I went.

"Do you really mean that?" I asked.

A long pause ensued in which Hanni turned her head upward from its relaxed position in my lap and cast her eyes upon mine...

"Definitely." Her tone was one of complete certainty. It made my heart throb for her, and the thought of endless time and the implied wonderful sex life we'd share had my manhood throbbing too.

Hanni stood up and glanced back over her shoulder toward me, biting her fingernail as she did. When she reached the entrance to the lower deck she turned and leaned provocatively against the frame, casting her hip outward in a way that accentuated her lean form all the more enticingly. She aimed a finger at me and beckoned me toward her the seated position from which I'd been watching her eagerly.

"Come inside with me, I think I need help turning on that big shower down there," she suggested mischievously.

I ambled up after her and held her hand from behind as we headed down the stairs. The inside of the boat was larger than I'd guessed it was, and I was excited for what Hanni and I's room would be like. I was even more excited as I watched Hanni pull her camisole up over her shoulders and then toss it through the doorway to our bedroom, remembering now that she'd never put on her cum-soaked bottoms. I only got to peer through the opening a second before Hanni tugged my hand and pulled me close to her.

I took hold of her in my hands, large and strong in contrast to her tiny, graceful body. She arched her back into me, pressing our hips together and we kissed there in the hallway. We kissed deeply, making up for all the lost time. My hands roamed, her hands roamed, and our need was more apparent with each twirl of tongue against tongue. Once again, my sister was in my arms, clothed only in that alluring little bikini and dying for me to take it off her.

There in the hallway we kissed and touched and pressed against each other, mimicking what we truly wanted. Hanni had just asked me to come with her across the country and be with her, as much more than just brother and sister. I couldn't think of a place I'd rather be. Yet, just then I was getting exactly what I desired as well: every bit of Hanni I could get my hands on.

We continued our foreplay and rolled shoulder over shoulder toward the bathroom door. Hanni would push me off of her and pin me against the wall and then I'd do the same. All the while we stayed locked at then lips and hips, save the short gasps that escaped Hanni's mouth when I connected with a particularly sensitive patch of skin or the whispered

"mmmmh, I love you"s and "oh goddd"s when I touched her just right.

We were so caught up in each other we barely noticed door to Irene and Jinwoo's bedroom slightly ajar. So, when both of us heard a moan from the room nearby that clearly hadn't come from Hanni, we stood frozen there together with Hanni's warm breath brushing my cheek.

Slowly we turned our heads toward the door; phew, it wasn't coming from our parents' room. We inched closer to the opened door, close enough that with my arms wrapped around her I could see over her head the source of the sound we'd heard. I had not been wrong when I'd imagined Irene would be a knockout naked.

Hanni must have agreed too because she gripped tightly at my arms as we watched the scene unfolding before us. Irene's husband lay back on the bed with his legs hanging over the edge of the bed, bent at the knees. Irene held fast to them and was turned around toward us, her breasts swaying as she lifted the sweet behind of hers and dropped it down sharply into Jinwoo's lap. She was tanned and toned, though not quite what I was used to with my sister. She was a bit... fuller, in places but it definitely worked to her advantage.

All the comparing reminded me who I held in my arms and I looked down at her, fidgeting in my arms.

"Like what you see?" I whispered, a line she'd used on me so many times before. She directed one of my hands downward and I knew what she wanted.

"Mmm hmm," she agreed, not even speaking as my hand landed over her uncovered slit, emanating the warmth of her arousal.

I began to pressure her tiny clit and she sank her gorgeous behind into me. We stayed like that, me rubbing her and her absolutely loving it as Irene continued to fuck her husband just beyond the door. We were both watching intently when Irene lifted her head towards us, the few of hair strands that had escaped hanging down over her face as her eyes rose up and landed on the door.

She saw us, she definitely saw us, and Hanni and I held tightly to each other neither moving or breathing. Her eyes met both of ours and she took in what was obviously a completely compromising position. She may have suspected correctly before that my sister and I had been lovers, but with my hand over the place no brother is supposed to go and my other cradling one of Hanni's awesome tits, there was no getting around it now. We were both frozen in anticipation of how she'd react.

Her downward thrusts slowed as she took us in and then........ a smile. Not just any smile, a huge mischievous grin that accompanied with her renewed efforts to take her husband's cock deeper and harder only meant one thing. She approved.

Hanni looked back at me with nearly the same grin Irene had, and she gave my crotch some serious attention with a quick up-down of that peach-like butt of hers over my shaft. I thought I was hard before that, but with Irene being railed a few feet away and the world's hottest playmate/my amazingly fuckable sister in my arms I think I suddenly grew another inch.

Irene watched us for a little while, as if both of her and my sister and I were transfixed and unable to look away. She showed us a few tricks, at some point rotating her hips around in a way that rippled her core and must have felt unbelievably good to her husband. She let out a few coos of pleasure but something told me they were more about seeing and being seen than Jinwoo's remarkably average penis. I guess money can't buy everything.

When we heard Jinwoo start to grunt foolishly Hanni took me by the hand and led me into the bathroom. She turned on the water and immediately grabbed my neck with one of her dainty hands, pulling me in for a needy kiss. She was turned on so obviously I could barely stifle a laugh. She pulled me under the water, my shirt still on. I wrapped an arm around her and her hands pawed haphazardly at me; she was so aroused she barely knew what to do with herself.

I took care of that; I lifted her and pushed her against the shower wall aggressively. She scratched at my back and then pried my shirt up over my head. Her hands pried at my stomach,

"Ugh, I love your abs," she was running her fingers over my muscles while arching her back to push me back a bit and see between us, "you are really fucking strong."

I rolled my eyes, 'women always say things like that,' I thought. I was flattered but compared to her, like a brilliant marble sculpture, I felt like I was made of play-doh.

She read my mind, "I'm not just humoring you, mmmhh, I'm soo attracted to you," she was rubbing that naked mound against my cock now. "No guy has ever made me so hot like you do."

I had to admit, she was flattering my immensely. I hoped that she felt the same way when I told her how gorgeous she was. I was encouraged enough to push her back flat against the wall and thrust along her lips, or what I could feel of them. I was kissing her neck furiously and she and I were clamoring to hump each other below. Somehow we got the water running and it warmed quickly, dousing us and our remaining clothing. My soaked trunks were plastered over my stiff shaft and it made the contact between us all the more purposeful. Still, I wanted more; and Hanni did too. She was fumbling around my shorts and the drawstring holding them tight to me. I was lost in her the long smooth skin beneath her cute chin.

"Oh god," she was moaning and twisting from attention to her sensitive neck, "take them off please!"

She was still lifted off the ground, her beautiful legs wrapping me. I reached for my waistband and she helped me to push the shorts down. She hastily pulled off the last scrap of clothing, her cute little bikini top, and cast it away; her tits jiggled unbearably and my cock jumped with excitement.

I forced her against the wall with an audible thud. My cock made its first contact with my sister's bare pussy in what felt like forever (it had only been about 24 hrs.) my rod split her lips and I felt how incredibly wet she was. She gyrated against me, and with my body sandwiching her between the wall and I could feel every muscle she used to do so. We were so connected in that moment.

"Umhhhh, it's been...too long," she cooed to me as her hips rotated rhythmically, "I've wanted you to put that big cock......mmmmgghh... in me all fucking day."

I loved hearing her talk like that, and I loved the way she looked and felt as much now as ever. Water cascaded over our shoulders, wetting her hair and dancing randomly down her slick body. Her tits were smashed against my chest, forced upward and outward while gliding against me with her constant grinding and flexing.

My shaft slipped again and again between her lips, I could feel my tip catch every now and again at her clit and threatening to sink deep inside her. At that moment we were content to thrust desperately against each other. I sucked hungrily at her neck and she showered my cheeks, ear and neck with kisses as best she could between her labored inhaling and exhaling. I even loved the grazing of her warm breath over my neck, the thought of making my sister so full of lust and sensation made me all the warmer inside.

"Uhhhhnn unnnnhhh, you like that?" she slowed and lengthened the path of her slippery lips on their straddling path over my cock "do you want to be inside me, wanna fuck your little slutty sister? I can't take this much longer...."

"Oh god, you have no idea," I answered her. I knew she was grinning.

Then suddenly from somewhere through the steam...."Then do it already, Jesus," it was Irene's voice 'I don't think I can take it any longer either!" We were frozen once again, held captive by the fear of being revealed.

Irene came into view, but I could barely see her in my peripheral while supporting my sister against the cool tiles on the wall of the shower. She looked to be wearing a nightgown of some sort, small and silky by the looks of it. She approached me slowly from behind; Hanni and I held our breath.

Irene was just outside the shower door we had failed to close in our haste. I still couldn't see her face and I thought that this may have finally been too much for her to see and accept. I felt a hand cover Hanni's on my shoulder. It slid in between Hanni's little fingers and caressed me as it did. Irene was touching me from behind and I could feel her presence heavy on my backside. I began to exhale, not sure yet if I should be relieved or not.

"Oh relax, you two! If I was going to rat you out I could have done it any of the half dozen times you were up to something before." There was an air of confidence and satisfaction in her voice, she was enjoying our little secret it seemed to me.

Hanni fidgeted, reminding me that I was only an inch or so from impaling her against the shower wall, I hadn't softened a bit and Hanni's warm pussy was still pulsing around my invading member. She felt it too, bringing her back to the desperation and arousal that Irene's interruption had only temporarily quashed.

I moved this time: a long, slow stroke that made her arch her back in response. Irene whispered something like "that's it, go on..." and stepped a bit closer. Hanni was fully back in sex-mode now and surprised me when she released her hand from its interlocking position with Irene's and she reached out beyond me. Her hand found Irene's shoulder and nightgown. She pulled, and Irene quickly stepped into the shower. The wide coverage of the showerhead found her nightie; it was a pale yellow number hung loosely over her shoulders with precariously thin straps. It was cinched under her breasts, which were causing mounds to form through the soft fabric, topped with pretty peaks that implied her obviously erect nipples.

Hanni and I were returning, slowly but surely, to the desperate and rhythmic contact we'd been seeking before Irene walked in. Hanni's adorable panting returned and she once again was splitting her engorged lips over the shaft I so eagerly wanted to plunge inside her with.

Irene's entwined fingers tightened their grip on my shoulder, and it seemed to jar Hanni into some new reality. She reached out swiftly and caught Irene's shoulder strap, sliding it off and pulling her under the water and closer to our side. The wide spray of the luxurious shower began to douse Irene with water. It was a subtle, pleasant yellow that darkened as the water turned it from opaque to transparent in a matter of seconds.

First her gorgeous butt showed through, sweet cleft and all as the material began to paste itself to her skin. I was staring intently and hardly noticed as Hanni slipped to the floor and turned to face the brunette vixen and her transforming gown. Hanni's fingers curled around my cock as she took another step toward Irene and came face to face with her.

It was like some kind of stand-off of who was hotter (it was admittedly close) or who was more daring, or god knows what those two women were thinking. My mind raced, and my member throbbed with Hanni's hand stroking me gently and pressing me against one soft cushion of her behind. The scene playing out before me was nearly too much to bear; the unfathomably beautiful Hanni, an unmatched playboy playmate vs. a sultry, illusive brunette trophy wife that had an obvious understanding of her own sex appeal and how to use it just right. I could hardly keep my eyes straight as Hanni jacked me, the pleasure and the build-up was indescribable.

Just when I couldn't take it anymore, Hanni closed the gap. Closing her eyes she leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on Irene's lips. It lingered... and just when Hanni seemed to pull back Irene returned the favor. She was soaked through and through in her place under the shower, every inch of the lingerie clinging to her body and revealing its splendor beneath. Irene wrapped a hand behind my sister's neck, her fingernails teasing just at her hairline where I knew her to be sensitive, and she brought them firmly together.

First they just held there sampling the other's lips; then Hanni opened her mouth ever so slightly. Irene swiftly flitted her tongue against the sliver Hanni had opened for her and then Hanni did the same. They playfully darted their tongues together and wrestled them more vigorously with each passing second. I hadn't thought my sister to have enjoyed the company of a woman as she now was, but with the increased pressure and stroking of my cock I could tell that Hanni was enjoying it thoroughly.

Once they had shared a few moments of feverish making out and both Hanni and Irene had begun touching each other gently and tentatively with their unoccupied hands, they slowed to a stop and drew back an inch or two. Simultaneously, both of them smiled at each other as if shocked and pleased by their newest taboo behavior. That was when they also turned in tandem to look at me, casually standing behind Hanni with an arm around her side as she stroked me and I watched them.

I wasn't sure what was in store for me but from the look in their eyes and the way they both glanced down at my cock, looking enormous in Hanni's dainty grasp, I knew it was something good.

"Mmmh," Irene let out and slumped toward Hanni a bit, "it looks to me like you were about to take a bit of a thrashing from not-so-little brother here... don't let me stop you."

Hanni bit her lip sexily and nodded in agreement, giving me an awesome little squeeze. She still seemed a little overwhelmed with pleasure from her first experience with another girl, so when she didn't act fast enough, Irene jumped in. She followed Hanni's arm with a light touch until it came close to where my cock was encased firmly in her grasp.

"Can I?" she looked straight at Hanni as if asking for permission.

When Hanni gave her an exasperated sigh of agreement, she slipped her hand over and Hanni let hers fall toward the floor. Irene set her eyes on me, waiting for me to protest. When I didn't, she wrapped her hand around my shaft completely and closed the gap between us. With one hand wrapped around my sister's taut belly, teasing toward her sweet spot, my other hand was left free. I quickly occupied it, placing it tenderly on Irene's hip.

My touch encouraged her and Irene leaned forward; it was my turn to taste the brunette's tongue against mine. Irene showed little hesitation with me as she had with Hanni. She simply slid into me in one quick motion and we locked together. First we tested only each other's lips, playing and sensing and loving the sensation. Then, when we felt bolder, we found the tips of each other's tongues. She was stroking me more intensely as we embraced and my hands on both Hanni and Irene worked harder in response.

When Irene heard Hanni moan from the pressure of my fingers on her button, she remembered her original intent. She ended her hand's attention to my staff and guided it closer to Hanni's cute behind. She was leaning against the tile and the combination of my stimulation of her clit, the down-pouring shower, and her first experience with another woman had her floating in her own paradise just inches away from mine.

Whether Irene realized it or not, as she hungrily lined up my tip with the entrance to my sister's tight tunnel, Hanni was yet unaware. Lost in her own thoughts and pressed up against that cool, smooth shower wall, she didn't recognize the feeling of my head making contact with her taut outer lips. Nor did she hear it when Irene planted another quick kiss on my lips and said,

"Go ahead honey,"

I split Hanni's lips apart with my first motion, and then began to slide the length of my engorged member into the little playmate's pussy inch by inch. That certainly brought her to, and she craned her neck to look back at who was causing the sudden, intense sensation she was experiencing. As I pressed deeper inside of her I could feel Irene's hand still guiding me and her fingers adding to the unbelievable pleasure I felt as I buried my shaft into my sister.

"Oooohhhh fuckkkk......"she howled with the naughty mouth of hers.

Irene moved around to where Hanni was locked against the wall, her breasts spreading outward from the pressure. Hanni turned to face her as much she could with my invading cock holding her in place. Immediately Irene found Hanni's lips with her own and began to kiss her intensely. While the two probed each other's mouths I finally reached the termination of my path and savored the sensation of being completely engulfed in my sister's tight pussy.

Irene's hand, which had been wrapped in a ring around my rod, lowered to allow me that final inch push into Hanni. She moved it directly to my full balls and tenderly cupped them in her hand. Her other hand had made its way to Hanni's opening, now pried open with her brother's cock.

"Does that feel good Hanni?" Irene asked her cutely.

"Yesss, ohhhh .....it feels sooooo good." she mewed back.

Once her fingers found their way to Hanni's sensitive little clit, I had had bottomed out in my sister entirely. Every bit of my shaft was immersed by Hanni's slick, hot channel and it felt as if I could sense her breaths in and out and the undulations of her beautiful core. My own little playmate cooed at the sensation of my cock seeming to expand inside of her. She was so tight, so unbelievably tight standing there with my cock lodged inside her, able only to cope with the feeling and do little else.

Irene planted a trail of soft kisses and pecks down Hanni's body, stopping for a moment at her delicious breast to caress them in a way only another woman could. As she made her way down, she placed a palm on my lower abs and gently encouraged me to pull out of my sister until only the helmet remained inside of her. Her soft pink lips held tight to my retreating member and pulled outward with it, desperate to keep me within. Just as my head was about to pop from Hanni's opening, she took hold of the exposed cylinder and prevented me exiting.

Her mouth found the connection between my sister and I and she covered it with the expanse of her tongue. That's when her hand, wrapped around me, tugged at me to press into my big sister once more. Her tongue stimulated us both and Hanni cried out as I sank into her more swiftly this time. In seconds I was once more deep within Hanni for the second time, ready to begin taking her fully.

"oh fuck.....Y/N.....it's so....... I can't.....mmmmmmm." She was short for breath and couldn't find the words to describe how I was making her feel.

Irene's tongue was beginning to lap and twirl around our incestuous junction, causing both of us to gasp from the added stimulation. When Irene's hand guided me back once again I was prepared, sliding out of Hanni and stopping just before I was literally out of her tunnel entirely before parting her lips once more and plunging deep inside.

Hanni was beginning to come to, despite the extreme pleasure from the increasing tempo of my thrusts. When I slid backward for the fourth or fifth time I could feel my sister's cute butt coming back to meet me. I kissed her neck from behind and she shivered from the tender contact. I opened my mouth and could taste the freshness of the water, still gliding down her body, combined with that deliciousness of her skin I'd grown addicted to.

As I continued to slide in and out of my sister, spurred on by her return thrusts, I reached down and found Irene's head with her soft locks of hair and I took the back of her head in my hand. I massaged lightly at it as Irene continued lapping at my sister and I from below. I gently tugged at her ponytail and encouraged her to stand up next to us so I could look her in the eye as I fucked my sister before her.

She did as I asked and came up to meet my gaze. Her eyes flitted down to my cock, plunging repeatedly into Hanni as I had her partially pressed against the wall for balance. I pulled Irene close and pressed my lips to hers, kissing her deeply while Hanni did more of the work. As I battled tongues with Irene and reached a hand toward her lovely cunt, my sister gyrated her taut cheeks into me faster and the sensation of her warm folds engulfing me independent of my efforts was near too much to bear. I prayed I wouldn't come too soon.

As my cock experienced the sensation Hanni was causing it my fingers found Irene's opening and teased her wet lips. I thumbed at her clit and she looked into me fiercely due to my daring behavior. I thought she might even push me away when she reached down to my hand, but instead she pressed my fingers inside of her.

"Uhhhhhghh," she moaned, "I needed this."

"Ughhh," I gasped back with another pound into Hanni, "Jinwoo not.....mmmmph.... Getting it done?"

She looked down at my invading cock once more, and Hanni and she made eye contact when Hanni turned to hear her answer. Her hand cupped the entrance to Hanni's pussy and she answered.

"Certainly not like this...." Something about having Irene approve of my rigorous fucking of my sister had my adrenaline pumping. With one hand in Irene's pussy I pressed two digits into her and began finger-fucking her to the tempo of my thrusts into Hanni. My other hand cupped Hanni's breast firmly to brace myself as I fucked her about as hard as I ever had.

"Fuccckkk...." Hanni squealed, "be careful.....mghhhh....I'm fragile."

I hardly listened, careful only not to slam her too hard against the shower wall, which might have woken someone. I continued to jam my cock into Hanni's squeezing sheath, bottoming out over and over and hearing her moan and gasp for breath. My fingers kept pace and Irene was leaning against my sister with one of their breasts mashing against each other.

"God, I might.....ohh.....ooh....cum already." Hanni said almost worried.

"Mmmmnhhh, you're telling me......fuck," Irene added in a breathy phrase.

Irene bucked against my fingers and the dropped to her knees as if to escape the pleasure for a moment, I was sure she hadn't come just yet but she started to minister to Hanni anyway. First her fingers wiggled over Hanni's clit and she trailed kissed to Hanni's tits once more.

I took both Hanni's hips in my hands and pressed her ass cheeks hard against my pistoning shaft. She held fast to my wrist and put a second hand against the wall. Over and over I drove into her, feeling her ass slam back toward me and clapping into my lap, apparently she wasn't THAT fragile.

"Ooohh.....ohhhhh.......so hard.......I think I'm gonna...."

I wrapped an arm across her abdomen and breasts, my other hand fell across her thin neck. She stood upright and I continued to impale her. I could sense her near orgasm as her body began to shake and weaken in my arms and I took more of her weight. That was just fine because my cock had her held up like a coat on a hanger. Irene's mouth found a nipple and she nibbled at it while her hand flew over Hanni's extremely sensitive clit.

It was the most erotic experience of my life, fucking my naked playboy-vixen sis with reckless abandon while she was being worked over by the beautiful adulterous brunette as both her husband and our parents slumbered on the other side of the wall. My fingers pawed at handfuls of Hanni's breasts and ass and I rocked in and out of her until I knew she was at the end.

"Ohhh ohhh, I'm gonna.....mmmmh-uhhhh..... Fuck, I'm gonna come." she was hardly being quiet, considering the proximity of our dozing families - I kept plunging into her nonetheless "It's so biggg.....mmmmph....I love you so.....uhhhh....much."

God she was so sexy right then, I couldn't get enough of her sweet dirty-talk or the flawless body I was currently burying my cock inside of. Just a few more thrusts and she was there. I could feel her pussy grip down on me like a vice and her body convulse against both Irene and I. Irene kept fingering Hanni's pulsing clit and I could feel her pussy wetting with her arousal.

She was bucking against the two of us and spastically taking my rod in and out of her as her pussy both begged for it to be buried inside her and for the unbearable sensitivity to stop. She moaned, she cooed; for nearly a minute she came, riding out her orgasm - my little champ. She was so sexy that I could have filled her right then with my own cum, but something about the naughty look that Irene we giving me... eyes peering at me, one covered in a wisp of black hair, while she stayed latched to my sisters nipple... I knew there was a little more left in store for me.

My little playmate finally stopped her involuntary shivers and kissed the hand I'd laid upon her shoulder. It was a light kiss, a thank you kiss, and I thanked her back by wrapping an arm around her tight tummy and pulling her close. I was still sheathed snugly inside of her and began to withdraw; she hummed a complaint. I gave her one final thrust when I'd pulled halfway out and when my hips made contact for the last time she melted in my arms. I finally removed my cock from her entirely and she turned around to face me, placing her back against the cold tiles and jumping at the sensation of them against her back. She took my chin in one hand and pulled me close; we kissed deeply and sensually; my God she always tasted so good.

Meanwhile, Irene had fallen to her knees again and as Hanni and I finished with each other, our tongues darting out for the last time, I felt Irene take my shaft in her practiced hand. Looking down at her I saw her beautiful body once more: breasts full and high upon her chest, pink nipples standing at attention and her firm abdomen. She kissed my tip and must have intended to suck me into her warm, waiting mouth. As good as that would have felt, Irene had done enough work already and I knew it was time to give her the attention she deserved. With Hanni recovering, eyes closed and face toward the ceiling, I gently took Irene's chin in my hand and coaxed her upward with a gentle pull.

She came up to meet me, eyes full of wonder and lust. She didn't know why I'd stopped her, but soon realized that intended to tend to her and not the other way around. I urged her toward the high bench at one end of the shower, where the water still reached her legs. Hanni followed her there and sat beside her, still zoned out and inattentive. As I sat Irene down carefully on the edge of the seat and positioned my mouth between her taut thighs, I took time to admire the beautiful shape that she'd managed to stay in. I figured her for no more than 34, but for the impeccable skin and luscious curves she carried, she and Hanni could have been roommates.

I massaged at the skin just beside her equally firm cheeks, a spot Hanni always seemed to love when I touched. Sure enough, Irene's dainty toes stretched and her hands reached out to bring me closer to her immaculate and beautiful slit. Her inner lips just peaked out from within her mound and I could tell just by looking at it that her pussy was going to be a snug fit.

I wasted little time; we were both so fired up, me from my intense sex with my sister and Irene from watching and waiting. I looked up at her, waiting for permission to enter a new level of intimacy. Her eyes looked desperate and sensitive:

"Mmm hmm," she hummed to me.

I planted the tip of my tongue at the very bottom of her entrance and wiggled it just inside a quarter of an inch. I then dragged it up within her pussy and to her clit, painstakingly slow. She moaned for the entire ten seconds it must have taken me to reach her button and then let out an exasperated breath. I then worked around her clit, flicking it with my tongue while pressing my hands into every bit of flesh they could reach from my kneeled position between her legs.

Hanni had taken to kissing slowly and sensually at Irene's neck as she grazed her hands over Irene's breasts and midsection. By the time that Hanni had even opened her eyes I was working a finger and my tongue into Irene's pussy, it was getting wetter with each passing second. She was so tight, I couldn't even imagine that she'd had much sex despite how attractive I, and probably any man, found her; obviously Jinwoo hadn't won her over with his size.

When I detected that Irene was building toward an orgasm, I increased my efforts and Hanni, who had perceptively noticed before me had already begun sucking all over Irene's chest and nipples.

Irene reached a hand down and grabbed my hair in between her fingers, running them through my short haircut and caressing my scalp. Then, for some reason, she stopped me. I followed her leading hand back up to eye level again and with her pair of pretty, large eyes, she looked deep into mine.

"It's so good....hmmm," she breathed out what she'd been holding in as her orgasm first suggested itself, "If we keep going, I'm not sure I could stop."

There was sincerity in her voice, and though I thought she may have really put an end to our tryst, the lips that puckered ever so slightly and accepted my kiss so readily suggested otherwise.

Hanni was being mischievous again, and she quickly grabbed my cock in her hand as it hung stiff between Irene and I.

"Why would you want to?" she said seductively as she pressed my tip against Irene's mound and ran it slowly from bottom to top as I had with my tongue.

Irene resolve weakened visibly, the tenseness she'd been displaying since the first thought of being penetrated was melting away in front of me. As my head made contact with her puffy folds, she shivered and her hands shot out to my abs and her pussy. She ran her fingers over the place where my cock had touched, but didn't push me away.

"I shouldn't....Jinwoo," she whispered barely loud enough for us to hear. I leaned into her and kissed her again while Hanni's hand stroked my engorged shaft; it was still slick from her own pussy. I was in heaven - Irene's tongue, despite her protests, was playing with mine enthusiastically, and I could feel her body involuntarily gyrating and pressing her mound harder against me. Hanni was, herself, pushing me deeper and I could just barely feel my cockhead beginning to spread Irene's lips.

"I don't think I can take that....hmmm...... Jinwoo is nothing like it."

Hanni smiled, sensing in the beautiful brunette a weakening resistance. I thought, if only briefly, that I might be offending my sister with my desires for another woman, and my eyes sought hers. Irene hadn't yet given permission, but when Hanni's eyes found mine she knew immediately what they wanted to ask her.

Rather than answer, she took my face in her hand and leaned in between Irene and I. Her perfect tits rested deliciously on my arm as I was massaging Irene's wonderful midsection. She kissed me, quickly and deeply, and I immediately knew what her answer would be.

Hanni was even more impatient than I; she practically tugged on my cock and urged me to slide forward. I still wanted to respect Irene's wishes despite the fact I knew almost certainly she would crack, but Hanni caught me off guard. As we broke our kiss she urged me with a firm tug forward enough for my helmet to slip just beyond Irene's entrance.

Irene gasped. I quickly pulled back and removed myself from her the tight embrace of Irene's entrance. My head shined with the wetness of Irene's pussy and it looked ripe for another plunge deep into the beautiful brunette.

"Hanni....!" I scolded.

Hanni only lifted her eyebrows and motioned for me to look at Irene to see her reaction. I didn't know what to expect, but I was pleasantly surprised to find Irene's eyes closed and a look of undeniable satisfaction on her face. When she felt me pull back out after Hanni's bold actions, she interjected,

"Oh God... maybe just a little..." she cooed, "Hanni, do you mind if I ask your lover here for a little more."

Hanni grinned naughtily and leaned in to plant her answer tenderly on Irene's lips. I felt a bit left out for a moment, as if I were just being passed between the two beauties, but then I remembered that my cock was at the entrance to the young brunette and I couldn't possibly feel anything but content. I prodded Irene further, and she opened her eyes with Hanni breaking from her kiss. I began to slide in, inch after inch. Hanni watched intently, and she held my arm so she could still be a part of the action. I held her myself, grasping her little butt firmly in my hand so she could still tell how much I loved her. Even Hanni was growing impatient though, and seeing me draw out my plunge into Irene's pussy, she interjected,

"She just got through making love in the bedroom, I think you ought to give her what she really wants bro,"

I was still reeling from Hanni's newfound spunk, this naughty threesome in the shower of a crowded boat had her talking like a sex-fiend and I liked it. I could have turned back and fucked her again for how much she was turning me on. Instead, I looked back at Irene and saw that Hanni had been right:

"You're sister has a point Y/N, ughhhh," she said as I withdrew to start obliging her, she was almost giggling at Hanni's bluntness "think you can.... mmmmmnghh... make me come with that..... fuckkkk.... big cock?"

But I had already started to try, and with my gorgeous little playmate nuzzled into one side of my body and with my member now buried in the beautiful woman in front of me, there was no turning back. I started to plunge into Irene with little of the gentleness I often afforded my sister. I picked up the pace, and all three of us watched as my cock slipped inside her, causing Irene to gasp, and then slipped out covered in her lubricating fluids -- that part caused Hanni to gasp.

My little sister eventually propped herself up on the same seat as Irene to get a better spot for the action. Without her at my side to grasp onto and savor her perfect body, I opted for the luscious one of Irene instead. I grasped firmly and a bit more roughly than Irene had expected, not that she didn't like it. My fingers pressed into her hips, fuller and softer than Hanni's with Irene's slightly fuller build. I loved the change-up, however, and I was soon pounding into Irene without restraint. It felt glorious, her ass clapping against my thrusting hips and my shaft being squeezed by her slippery insides. Her tits weren't as large as Hanni's, and I looked over at Hanni to see that Irene was palming her breasts and fingering my sister in the most sensuous of ways. Indeed, Hanni's breasts were the best I'd ever seen and I couldn't wait to get my hands back on them, but Irene's... they were bouncing around at my rough pounding in a way that had me ready to spray inside her.

I wondered if Irene would have it however, and looking at both women I would have been equally happy to fill either one. But it was coming quickly, Irene's taut sheath was assuring that, and so was the unbelievably sexual girl-on-girl action unfolding before me. I might have been only and afterthought to Irene had I not been fucking her so hard.

"Ohhhh.......my...... Godddd...." She cried out, breaking a kiss with Hanni. I could see my sister smiling; she must have known what Irene was feeling.

"Irene, I'm getting close," I warned her, wondering what she would say.

At first she didn't respond, savoring my impaling cock further and leaning her head back adorably. But then she looked back at my sister, once again reminding me of the kind of attention a superstar like Hanni demanded and deserved. I slowed my pace a bit but kept ramming her with fervor, I hadn't fucked a girl like that, well....ever. Collecting herself, she asked Hanni:

"Do you want him to.... Ughhhh...." she seemed near orgasm as she spoke, "you know.... Mmmmnhhh... finish with you?"

But Hanni had never been a selfish girl, and she wanted Irene to have just as much fun as she did, plus she probably figured she had me as much as she wanted. "No way Irene, but just let me warn you, he's like a fire hose," Hanni said giggling. Irene's eyes widened, but she didn't stop me. Hanni backed away a bit but took my hand in hers, she just wanted to watch this part. I hadn't stopped fucking Irene the whole time, and she finally refocused her attention on me, not that I hadn't been caught up enough in my onslaught of her gorgeous body. I did catch Hanni's warning and it made me smile, I was looking forward to cumming in Irene if she'd have me. With Hanni's hand in mine I placed it back on Irene's hips and held on tight. Irene had been heading for orgasm long before me, so when I started to feel it, Irene was already howling. Hanni put a hand over her mouth with a worried hush; Irene understood and tried to keep quiet. "Ohhhh fuckkkk..... how can you stand it Hanni..... so fucking big!" she whispered as quietly as possible. Nobody awoke however, and as I thrust again and again into Irene's warm center I knew I'd be over the edge at any minute. Her slick channel gripped me, she began to climax, and hard. Her inner muscles were inordinately strong, more so than Hanni's, and whatever restraint I had left in me was broken when I tried to push passed them without cumming. I was cooked, and I blasted into Irene with reckless abandon. I kept thrusting, rope after rope of semen coating her insides and pumping deep into her womb. I wondered if she'd been trying to get pregnant with Jinwoo, and the risk that she might accidentally do so with me turned me on even more. It seemed to keep me spurting seed into her; it must have been ten times or more.

Maybe it was the fact that I'd just fucked my own little sister against the shower wall, or the fact that she was literally a Playboy Playmate, or maybe it was the fact that I was holding her hand as I came inside our host's beautiful albeit unsatisfied wife. Either way I was in heaven, and Hanni leaned into me once more as I began to slow and Irene rode out her orgasm. She reached down to Irene's clit to keep her going and she spasmed at Hanni's touch. I wished I knew how to stimulate the two women as well as they did, but I was content to watch the two beauties anyway.

Irene was still orgasming, mewing and gasping for air much like I'd seen Hanni do every time I'd been with her since the first time a few days ago. She was beautiful, and I felt nearly jealous that Jinwoo could be with her any time she let him, but then again... I had Hanni. I looked at my little sister and I smiled at her, looking deep into her eyes to make sure she knew how much I couldn't wait to be with her again. She knew though, and her cute grin and kiss she planted on my lips reassured me.

Irene started to come around, "Jesus," she breathed out. She bucked her hips involuntarily when I moved a bit. "I haven't been fucked like that since college," she sang. We all laughed a bit and it lightened the mood.

"So killer, do you think you can take that thing out of me or is it stuck?"

I decided to have a little fun with her and pressed in the inch or two I'd withdrawn; we both nearly fell over we were so sensitive. "I think it's stuck," I joked. I couldn't deny that it still felt incredible to be lodged inside of her.

"It better not be!" cried out my sister.

We all knew why she said that, and it made Irene smile. I finally slid out of her, and some of the mixture we'd created inside came out with me. "Well," Irene commented, "that might not have been my best decision ever." I kind of shrugged my shoulders as she stood up. She looked down between us at my semi-erect cock. It was touching her lightly at the waist and she wrapped a hand gently around it. "On second thought, it might have been."

Irene looked up to me and brought my lips to hers, she planted a sensuous kiss on my lips that tasted like berries; she really was a provocative beauty. The kiss we shared might have been good, but the one she next shared with my sister was better. Theirs lingered longer, and their hands briefly touched each other's bodies. When they broke it was Irene who spoke, "I'm going to leave you two alone," we watched in awe as she took a step away from us and turned back, "if you guys need another playmate this week, you know where to find me."

It was an odd choice of words, and both Hanni and I looked at each other with a bit of shock, she couldn't have known could she? She kept right on walking out the door, grabbing a towel and heading back for her bedroom. I wondered if her husband would notice that someone else had been inside his wife that night, and left something behind.

My attentions were broken by Hanni back at my side, she kissed me, and I kissed her back hard. Our hands roamed everywhere, both incredibly turned on by what had just happened, and inexpressibly glad to be back upon each other. We made out in the shower like that for God knows how long. It was a good thing Jinwoo had invested in some expensive water recirculating contraption because we took our time under the warm downpour kissing and touching like star-crossed lovers.

When our legs began to tire, we finally gave in, and I lovingly washed Hanni's body. I spent extra time on all of the features I love most, and I could hear her start to breathe more heavily when my hands washed over her tiny pussy. She did the same for me, not being too shy when she jerked her hand over my erect member to "clean" it. But she eventually finished the task, and after some more minutes of gentle kisses and an embrace that I could have kept going forever under the shower's streaming heat, we finally turned it off. I wrapped a towel around my sister, sorry to see the playmate's awesome body hidden for even a moment, and took one for myself.

I followed her down the hall and watched her cute butt sway, I think she was doing it on purpose but I could never tell. Before going back into our room I took a final glance at Irene's door, wondering what the rest of the week would be like with the beautiful brunette whom we'd both just made love to. Hanni tugged at my hand and I didn't really care, as long as my sister was there with me I would be in paradise.

We made love once before we fell asleep that night, and another time when Hanni awoke, feelingly naughty, on top of me. In the dim light I held and watched her move about with her own brother inside of her. The boat hitched gently back and forth as we had sex for what could have been hours; we were both insatiable. Neither of us knew what the future would bring but, lying there making love to the only person we'd ever wanted so badly, we finally drifted off into an unconcerned slumber.

[munsonsmixtapes]

wearing a matching set for eddie smut?

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) body insecurity, body worship, nipple play

There's not really a reason why you bought the lingerie set. It was pretty when you tried it on and it just so happened to that pretty red that Eddie loved to see you in. You wanted to surprise him with it, putting it on top of the t-shirts he stored in the bottom drawer of the dresser you shared.

You're washing dishes when Eddie comes home from work, trying your best to act normal as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, murmuring a "hey, baby" as he passes by you to head to your shared room to change into some more comfy clothes.

You’re buzzing with excitement as you slowly follow him into the bedroom, leaning against the door frame as you watch him make the discovery, pulling the bright red, thin panties out of the drawer, whistling as he takes a look at them.

"Shit, baby, what are these?" He asks, as he turns towards you. "I'm assuming they're not for me, because," he holds them up to his body and they don't look quite right on him.

"They're for you," you tell him, your cheeks getting warm. "I mean, they're for me to wear for you." You enter the room and stand in front of him, reaching into the drawer to pull out the matching bra.

Eddie's never seen this side of you, but he has to admit that he finds it really hot. Sure, you've worn lingerie for him before, but you've never bought any to specifically wear for him. And that makes him feel special. It makes him feel…hot.

"And what did I do to deserve such special treatment?" He asks, fanning his face dramatically.

"Nothing," you shake your head. "It's for you being you." You press a kiss to his nose then take the underwear from him. "I'm gonna slip into these and you just sit there and look pretty, okay?"

You head into the bathroom and close the door, taking a deep breath as you gingerly take off your clothes, changing into the lingerie, suddenly not feeling as confident as you did in the store earlier.

The cups of the bra seem to be smaller than you remember, more transparent, your tits on full display through the sheer fabric. And the panties are more tight, hugging you in all the wrong places. The whole thing looks ill fitting and now you’re unsure of whether you should change or not.

You stare at your reflection as you fix one of the straps that’s fallen off your shoulder. You almost don’t want to go out there, the idea suddenly feeling stupid to you. But Eddie is waiting and you don’t want to disappoint him.

You slowly exit the bathroom, covering yourself up as much as you can with your hands and arms, but eventually give up, showing yourself to Eddie as he leans back where he’s sitting on the bed, another wolf whistles passing through his lips.

“Baby, you look fucking amazing.” He’s grinning ear to ear and you almost believe him. Almost. He’d never lie to you so you don’t know why you don’t believe him.

“Do I?” You ask genuinely and Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. He doesn’t know why you’re asking. He always thinks you look amazing and is very quick to tell you so.

“Of course you do. Can’t stop looking at you. Hey, what’s wrong?” He notices your frown and rests his hands on his shoulder, his head moving in the direction of yours, trying to get you to look him in the eye.

“Nothing, Eds. Don’t worry about it.” You shake your head before turning it to the side so he can’t see how ashamed you feel.

“Do you not like it? Are you uncomfortable? You don’t have to do this for me. You can change back if that’s what you want. I love you no matter what you wear. You know that.” He wants to know what’s wrong so he can fix it. He hates when you feel anything but happy and wants to do whatever he can to make you feel better.

“Is it too small?”

“Small? No, baby, you look perfect.” His hand moved to one of the cups of your bra, his fingers brushing over the lace. “This, this is nice, but I think I like what’s underneath it even better.”

Eddie pushes the strap off of your shoulder then presses a featherlight kiss to it. He backs you up to the bed as his kisses get hotter and rougher, his lips sucking on your skin as your back collides with the bed.

“Once I’m done with you, you’ll know just how pretty I think you are. Especially when you see all of marks I’m about to leave on you when you look in the mirror.”

Your cheeks flush at his comment and he’s quick to get off of you, rushing to the other side of the room and grabbing something before hurrying back to you.

He straddles your waist and brings a camera up his face, making sure that you’re in the center of the frame.

“Need a photo of my pretty girl so pose for me.”

You do as he says, positioning yourself in a way that you think looks sexy, a pose that you’ve seen in the magazines he reads.

“That’s it,” he says then snaps a photo, the thing printing out of the camera. You take it and set it on the bedside table along with the camera before Eddie lies down on top of you once again.

He leans down and brings your nipple to his mouth, sucking on it through the fabric. You let out a whine and he takes that as an invitation to continue. His hands find yours and he pins them above you as he dives in for more, licking and sucking on the fabric as you moan underneath him, the sounds nothing but hot.

Eddie moves his hands underneath you and unhooks your bra, your tits coming into view and he feels his mouth watering as he stares down at your exposed chest and all of the things he wants to do to it. You’re right there on display for him like an all-you-can-eat buffet and fuck is he hungry.

He goes for your nipple, taking the whole thing into his mouth, flicking it back and forth as he sucks on it, wanting to get a full taste of it. He slides his hands underneath you, holding onto your bare back as he works, trying to giving himself more room, wanting to have his mouth on as much of you as he can.

You’re moaning and whining and he makes sure to press his rock hard cock against you so that you know just how hard you’re making him. That you know that he’s getting just as much enjoyment out of this as you are.

“Fuck,” you whine as he bites down on your nipple, arching into him as he bites down even harder, wanting you to moan as loud as possible so all of your neighbors know exactly how good he makes you feel.

You’re already reaching your orgasm and even though you’re embarrassed by it, Eddie is quick to let you know how good of a girl he thinks you are, how you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to.

“Oh,” you moan loudly as you grab onto him, your nails digging into the back of his shirt. “Oh my god, Eddie.”

“That’s it,” he encourages as he helps you ride out your high. “That’s my girl. Sound so pretty when you moan my name.”

As you’re coming down, he moves lower, loving on every inch of skin he can get his mouth on, nipping and sucking on the parts of you he loves the most, stopping once he gets to your cunt. He spreads your legs wide and you look ready for him, already sopping wet through your panties.

Eddie gets undressed and puts on the first condom he can find before lowering himself onto you once again as he slides into you, pumping in and out slowly, knowing that this is exactly what you need. You want him to make love to you, not fuck you like he always does. You want him to show you just how much he loves you with his body.

“Wish you could see how pretty you are,” he says as he presses a kiss to your lips. “Because if you could see what I see, baby, fuck,” he sighs as he picks up the pace just slightly, his fingers interlocking with yours as his face is buried in your neck, pressing soft kisses to the skin.

“Can we do this more often?” You ask even though you’re kind of afraid to.

“What? Go slow?”

“Yes.” Your face flushes as you’re confession but Eddie just looks as you lovingly.

“Baby, you can have anything you want. All you gotta do is ask.”

“So we can do this all night as long as I ask?” Eddie pulls back to look at you as if you had just asked a silly question, and you suppose that you did.

“No question,” he shakes his head. “Now lie back darlin’, gonna show you just what I think of that pretty little thing you were wearing.”

And you do that the rest of the night and into the early morning, and afterwards, Eddie takes that Polaroid from the bedside table and puts it in his wallet so he can look at it anytime he wants. And after he does so, he pulls you into his arms and cuddles you until the two of you fall into a much needed sleep.

[delilahsturniolo]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ౨ৎ LINE MY LIPS JUST TO MATCH MY NIPPLES

(dry humping, making out, boob/nipple play, handjob, pet names, dirty talk, unprotected sex.)

as you glide towards the bathroom connected to your room, you see the image of yourself in the mirror your eyes, a sparkling contrast against the dim light of the hotel room, are wide and your lips are wet, tingling from the recent kiss you and matt had shared. your skin is flushed with an undeniable crimson, mirroring the soft pink hue of your nipples, which are now on full display thanks to the transparent lacy bra you've chosen to wear tonight. you and matt were supposed to head out for dinner in about 45 minutes, and you weren’t going to disappoint him.

you fumble in your makeup bag, reaching for the light lip liner you bought recently, a shade matt would for sure recognize, to entice him with more than just words. "hi baby," matt's voice echoes from behind the door, interrupting your thoughts. he has a way of making every word sound like a promise, a whispered secret only meant for you. you imagine his eyes as he says it, dark and intense, mirroring the hungry look he gives you whenever you're this close.

you open the door with a small smile playing on your lips. the room's still dim, but the moonlight filters through the blinds, casting an ethereal glow over everything. matt sits on the edge of the bed, watching you with those dark, almond-shaped eyes. he's shirtless now, and the sight of his bare chest, muscles defined under smooth, taut skin. sends a rush of excitement through your body.

he smirks slightly as he watches you finish up your lip liner, smacking your lips together. "that’s a nice color." he says, his voice a low growl as he takes in your appearance. his gaze lingers on your chest, taking in the sight of your nipples pressing against the delicate lace of your bra. you can't help but bite your lip, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at his attention.

you saunter closer to him, hips swaying with a confidence that surprises you. the moonlight catches the curves of your body as you approach him, accentuating the swell of your breasts and the curve of your waist.

“recognize it from somewhere?" you reply, teasingly, as you halt in front of him. you raise your hand to your chest, fingers lightly tracing the lace edging of your bra. you feel your nipples harden under the touch, aching for more than just the sensation of fabric against them.

matt watches you intently, the heat in his gaze burning brighter with every passing second. you lean forward, offering yourself to him, an unspoken invitation that hangs in the air between you. “someone, you mean?” he teased, making you let out a laugh.

his hands reach out, large and warm as they cup your breasts through the lace of your bra. you gasp at the contact, the cool air of the room doing little to soothe the heat building inside you. his thumbs brush over your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. you can't help the moan that escapes your lips, or the way your body instinctively presses closer to his touch.

"god, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his voice hoarse with desire as he pulls you down onto the bed. you find yourself straddling him, his hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of his boxers. you rock against him, feeling him throb beneath you, and it's all you can do not to grind down harder, seeking more of that delicious friction.

you lower your head to his, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. it's hungry, desperate, a clash of teeth and tongues that leaves you both breathless. his hands roam over your body, exploring every curve with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

you break away from the kiss, panting heavily. your lips are swollen, aching for more of his mouth on yours. but for now, you have other things in mind. you reach behind you, unclasping your bra and letting it fall to the floor. your breasts are free now, nipples standing out proud and begging for his attention.

matt doesn't hesitate. his mouth finds one nipple, suckling it gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. you arch into his touch, moaning loudly at the sensation. he shifts to the other breast, giving it the same attention, and you can't help but squirm beneath him. “these pretty tits are mine..” he mumbles, sending vibrations through your nipples.

you reach down between you, sliding your hand into his boxers. his cock is hot and hard in your hand, throbbing with need. you stroke him slowly, feeling him grow even harder under your touch.

matt groans, pulling away from your breast with a wet pop. he flips you onto your back, hovering over you as he gazes down at your body. his eyes drink in every inch of your exposed skin, and you can't help but spread your legs in invitation. he grabs your hips, flipping the both of you so he’s on top. he doesn’t hesitate to flip your skirt up.

he lines himself up with your entrance, rubbing his tip against you in a tease that has you moaning in need. you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him down to you.

"please," you beg, your voice a husky whisper against his ear. "fuck me, matt." without warning, he thrusts into you in a single, fluid motion. you cry out at the fullness, the stretch of him inside you. he starts to move, setting a rhythm that has you writhing beneath him.

each thrust is a promise fulfilled, each groan a testament to the pleasure coursing through you both. you move together in a dance as old as time, each seeking release in the other. “take it baby, i know you can.” he whispers in your ear.

your nails dig into his back as you crest that peak, your climax washing over you in waves of pure, unadulterated bliss. matt follows shortly after, his release hot inside you as he collapses onto you. you lay there in a tangled heap of limbs, hearts pounding and breaths coming in ragged gasps. the night air clings to your sweaty bodies as you try to catch your breath.

"that," matt murmurs into your hair, his voice a contented rumble, "was definitely worth it." you can't help but smile, nuzzling into his chest as you both drift off into a satisfied sleep, sated and content in each other's arms. matt sits up, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip, your lip liner smudged. “you should reapply that before we leave.”

© delilahsturniolo

💌: i think this is one of my favorite things i’ve ever written AHHH! if you’re a reneé rapp fan you should understand the title lol

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (16)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 16 - Caught You

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 17.1

PREV : Chapter 15

The fourth game finally ended after twelve grueling rounds. In total, 49 players were eliminated. It was supposed to be 48, as only four players were meant to be eliminated in each round, but one round had five players caught in the elimination zone. They couldn’t come to a unanimous decision about who would be spared, and as a result, all five were executed.

You and soldier 011 had put your masks back on – you in your square mask and her in her triangle one. The players had left and descended the stairs back to the dormitory. Only you, manager 009, and several circle guards remained in the game location. The workers quietly cleaned the conveyor belt, erasing the blood and tidying up the room.

Once everything was in order, you and manager 009 left the area, walking through the labyrinth of corridors. The silence between you was heavy, but it didn’t last long.

“Where’s 019?” manager 009 asked.

You kept your gaze forward, your voice calm and steady in disguise. “Not sure. They should’ve been back by now.”

Manager 009 didn’t press further, and the conversation ended there. The two of you continued toward the control room in silence.

When you entered, the first thing you noticed was the Front Man standing in the center of the room. The screen displaying the pictures of the surviving players glowed brightly beneath him. Beside him stood the masked officer as they both gazed at the massive screens showing live feeds of the dormitory.

Your eyes scanned the room, and you spotted manager 009 walking towards their previous station. Taking that as a green light, you made your way to your own monitor and sat down.

Just as you settled into your seat, the double doors leading to the dormitory slid open, breaking the tense silence of the room. The sound drew everyone’s attention. A manager flanked by 16 soldiers marched in and they took their positions in front of the door.

You realized what was coming next. It was time to announce the results of the fourth game: the number of players eliminated, the remaining survivors, and the updated total of the accumulated prize money.

The manager announced, “Congratulations to all of you for making it through the fourth game. Here are the results of the fourth game.”

The dormitory lights dimmed, casting the room into an eerie semi-darkness. The only illumination came from the glowing piggy bank suspended near the ceiling. All eyes were drawn upward as stacks of bills cascaded into the transparent container. The players watched, some with awe, others with blank stares, as the money continued to fill the bank.

When the flow of money stopped, the manager’s voice echoed again, cutting through the silence. “49 players were eliminated in the fourth game. The prize money accumulated up to this point is 43.2 billion won. Since there are 24 players remaining, each person’s share would be 1.8 billion won.”

A ripple of reactions swept through the room. Half of the players erupted into gasps of delight, their voices rising in excitement.

“Wow!” one player exclaimed, their face lighting up as if they could already feel the weight of the cash in their hands.

The jubilation of some players stood in sharp contrast to the shock etched on the faces of others. Gi-hun’s team, in particular, exchanged flabbergasted glances. Jun-hee and the mother were looking at the floor, still in shock about their near-death experience. Gi-hun’s jaw clenched, his gaze flickering between the piggy bank and the delighted players. Dae-ho’s expression was pale and distant.

However, Yong-sik and Jung-bae initially looked somewhat elated to hear the announcement, faint smiles creeping onto their faces. However, one stern glance from the mother to Yong-sik and from Gi-hun to Jung-bae caused both of them to restrain themselves, quickly lowering their smiles as guilt and unease replaced their fleeting excitement.

The manager continued. “You will now take a vote to decide whether to continue the games or not.”

As the announcement hung in the air, a line of circle guards – the workers – entered the room. They set up the familiar voting counter at the front of the dormitory.

The manager added, “The vote will be held in reverse order of your player numbers. Player 456.”

Slowly, all eyes turned to Gi-hun. Whispers rippled through the group as they recognized him not only as the previous winner of these games but also as the one who had instigated the failed uprising against the game management. Some players stared at him with a mixture of awe and resentment, while others seemed to hold him responsible for the chaos and loss they had endured.

Gi-hun stood stoic, his jaw tight as if he was aware of the silent scrutiny bearing down on him. He then moved out of the crowd of players and headed towards the voting counter.

Behind your mask, you frowned in concern. Gi-hun must be blaming himself for almost everything, including the deaths of Young-il and other players. You knew he was kind and selfless, but when he became adamant about something, he could cross into selfishness. It was either that, or he had a heavy hero complex, or a gambling addiction, or he hadn’t yet realized the full impact his actions had on others. Even so, you couldn’t help but think he didn’t deserve the silent judgment radiating from the other players.

Gi-hun reached the voting counter and stopped. He stared at it for what felt like an eternity. The players behind him began exchanging confused glances, whispers rippling through the group. Even you felt a flicker of bafflement behind your mask. Gi-hun, the one who had tirelessly urged everyone to quit the games, the one who had orchestrated the failed revolt against the management, was actually hesitating?

What is he doing? you thought, your pulse quickening. He never hesitated to press X before. Why is he taking his time now?

Gi-hun’s hands hovered over the buttons, but he didn’t move. Then, his gaze slowly lifted. His scowl deepened, and his eyes locked onto one of the CCTVs in the dormitory. The intensity of his glare made your breath hitch. From the control room, one screen now displayed a clear feed of him staring directly into the lens. It wasn’t just a look of defiance; it was a challenge, a silent declaration to the management that he wasn’t finished. It was as if he wanted to show them that his fight wasn’t over – that he still had more to give.

You glanced at the Front Man, who remained as still as a statue in the center of the control room. His attention was fixed on the screen as if he too was assessing Gi-hun’s intent. The tension in the air was suffocating, the room silent except for the faint hum of the monitors.

After what felt like an eternity, Gi-hun lowered his gaze back to the voting counter. His jaw tightened as he raised his hand and pressed the X button. A lighter ping echoed through both the dormitory and the control room, signaling his vote. Without looking at anyone, he turned and walked to the X zone.

The voting process continued. One by one, the players approached the counter to cast their decision. Jung-bae, Dae-ho, Se-mi, player 333, Jun-hee, the mother, Hyun-ju, and Yong-sik all voted for X. You knew they would vote for the right thing. Including Gi-hun, that made a total of nine X votes. It gave you a glimmer of hope that you all could finally leave this place.

But the other players, they voted for O. Among them were the greedy old man with a ten-billion debt (100), his equally greedy underling (226), the late Thanos’ friend (124), and the shaman (044). Their choice was no surprise, but what angered you more was how they whispered and schemed during the process, influencing the undecided voters with hushed conversations and manipulative gestures.

In the end, the results were announced: [X: 11 | O: 13]. The outcome sent a wave of crushing disappointment through you. It had been so close to a tie, so painfully close to everyone finally going back home. To you, disguised as manager 007, the result felt like a punch to the gut.

The 13 players in the O zone erupted into hollers of delight and triumph. Their cheers filled the dormitory, their voices dripping with greed and selfishness. It didn’t matter to them that Jun-hee was pregnant. That fact had become apparent to many since the fourth game, but it didn’t sway their decision. They couldn’t care less about forcing a pregnant woman to stay here longer for the sake of their greed. Behind your mask, you furrowed your eyebrows in indignation.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed a movement. Glancing over, you saw the masked officer turning to face you. His voice, distorted by the mask, rang out. “Manager 007 and 009, continue with your next task.”

Manager 009 rose from their seat without hesitation. You mirrored their movement, rising and following them as they moved toward the back of the center. The two of you positioned yourselves behind the masked officer and the Front Man, standing like a pair of bodyguards.

The Front Man’s gaze remained fixed on the live feeds of the dormitory. Everyone could feel it, including yourself. His commanding presence that demanded respect and fear in equal measure. You stared at him from behind your square mask, your mind drifting back to the conversation you had with 011 during the fourth game.

***

[Flashback begins…]

“What do you mean he will spare me?” you asked, your voice hushed but sharp with confusion. Behind your triangle mask, your eyes widened, trying to process the weight of 011’s words. The two of you were still disguising as one another – you wearing her triangle mask, and 011 now donning your square one.

011 hesitated, a rare pause that betrayed her own uncertainty. She didn’t meet your gaze as she finally spoke. “I’ve worked under him as a pink guard for years. In all that time, I’ve never seen him issue an order like this. Telling the guards not to shoot a specific player. He’s strict, but it’s always been about fairness. He treats guards and players with the same rules. That’s why I think… even if you reveal yourself to him, he might spare you.”

Her words hung in the air, leaving you reeling. You stayed quiet, mulling over what she’d said. The idea of revealing yourself to the Front Man… Could you trust that he’d spare you? And even if he did, at what cost?

“Do you know what he would do to me if he finds me?” you asked, your curiosity laced with unease.

011 answered, “No. I don’t. But I’ve heard whispers among the guards. Rumors that it might have something to do with the VIPs. Not sure if it's true or not.”

You furrowed your eyebrows beneath the mask. “VIPs?”

She hesitated again, the silence stretching just a moment too long. Whether she regretted bringing it up or was unsure herself, you couldn’t tell.

“You could think of them as investors,” she finally said, her tone quieter now. “They fund this operation. They’re the ones who ensure it keeps going. That’s what I know so far. And from what I’ve heard, they watch these games regularly. For their entertainment.”

Your skin prickled with fear, the mere thought sending an icy wave down your spine. One thought sprang to mind almost instantly. You could be handed over to these so-called VIPs. Sold to them, perhaps. The idea made your stomach churn.

Before you could fully process the implications, Gyeong-seok’s voice broke the tense silence.

“They’re watching us?” he asked, his alarm palpable even through the distortion of his triangle mask. “Could it be that one of the VIPs likes her? And that’s why there’s an order not to shoot her?”

His words made your blood run cold. A fresh wave of fear surged through you, twisting in your chest like a vice. Your hands trembled uncontrollably and you promptly hugged them to your chest, trying to steady yourself. The thought of being singled out – not for safety, but for something darker – made your heart race with dread.

“That’s…” you started, your voice faltering. “That can’t be it. Right?”

011 seemed hesitant, her voice quieter than before as she replied, “I’m not sure. If you ask me, I don’t think that’s the case. But it’s best to stay safe and alert.”

Her words did little to calm your nerves. You sat there, mulling over everything she’d said. Fear and apprehension tightened in your chest. The thought of being under constant scrutiny – while you were supposed to guard the Front Man – made your stomach churn, but an even darker fear gnawed at you: what if you were being reserved for one of the VIPs? The possibility sent a chill through your veins. You couldn’t let yourself get caught, not by him or anyone else who might have plans for you beyond this nightmare.

“What should I do then?” you asked, your voice low and uncertain. “I’m going to be his guard soon enough.”

When 011 spoke, her tone was solemn. “Try to adapt as fast as possible. Do not speak unless you’re spoken to. Whatever he tells you to do, just do it. And always be on alert. Watch everything. Listen to everything. He doesn’t tolerate mistakes.”

You nodded, taking in her advice even as the apprehension gnawed at you. This wasn’t just about survival anymore. It was about navigating a dangerous, unpredictable situation with a man who held absolute power over everyone here.

“Does he really need guards?” Gyeong-seok asked, his tone curious and innocent, as though the thought had just occurred to him.

011 glanced at him briefly before answering. “It’s customary to have two managers with him wherever he goes. He has a lot of tasks to oversee, and the managers assist with those duties. It’s as much about maintaining order as it is about support.”

Her explanation was straightforward, but it only added to your apprehension. You couldn’t afford to make a single mistake, not when you were walking such a thin line. And above all, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the Front Man’s presence was more than just commanding. It was suffocating, like he could see straight through any disguise you wore.

[Flashback ends…]

***

Back to the present, you and manager 009 waited in silence, standing for a few minutes as the Front Man surveyed the live feeds and ensured every operation was running smoothly. His imposing figure was still, his masked face tilted slightly toward the screens as if scrutinizing every detail with precision.

Then, without warning, he spun around, striding toward the exit and eventually walking past you both. Manager 009 immediately fell into step behind him, and you quickly followed. The two of you flanked and followed the Captain as he descended into the labyrinth of colorful stairs, the vibrancy of the walls contrasting sharply with the dark-coloured control room.

The three of you arrived at the armory, a large, sterile room lined with racks of weapons. Rows of MP5 guns, pistols, and other equipment were neatly arranged. Multiple circle guards were stationed throughout the room, diligently performing tasks such as logging weapon serial numbers, testing firing mechanisms, and cleaning the firearms. Overseeing them was another manager who moved diligently between stations.

“Status report on the firearms,” the Captain commanded, his distorted voice filling the room.

The manager stepped forward and answered, “All weapons are accounted for, Captain. The inventory has been cross-checked, and all MP5s have been resecured. Pistols have been redistributed to guards as per protocol.”

The Captain gave a curt nod and turned to 009. “Ensure the biometric systems have been fully calibrated. Test random samples to verify their functionality.”

“Yes, Captain,” 009 replied, moving toward one of the nearby stations where guards were monitoring the equipment.

You stood quietly, waiting. The Captain’s gaze swept over the room before it landed on you.

“007,” he said finally, “verify the safeties on the pistols. Ensure they’re properly engaged.”

The task was very simple, and you couldn't be more glad. You nodded and moved toward the rack of pistols. You meticulously checked each one, toggling the safeties to confirm they were engaged. It took only a few minutes to complete and then you returned back to stand behind him.

Once 009 finished their task and the armory was taken care of, the Captain led the way through another series of corridors, descending a staircase until you reached a room marked with no identifying signage. The door slid open, revealing a sprawling IT hub filled with rows of computers and massive screens lining the walls. Workers in circle masks sat at the terminals, their fingers flying across keyboards as they edited and managed live feeds from across the facility. One manager was present, walking slowly as they supervised everything.

The Captain strode into the room, his presence commanding immediate attention. “Report.”

The manager straightened up and informed, “All live feeds are edited and being transmitted to the VIPs as scheduled. Editing for clarity and focus is underway. No interruptions have been detected.”

“Good,” the Captain replied. He turned to manager 009. “Check every videos that have been transferred online. Ensure the footage meets the required standards for transmission.”

“Yes, Captain,” 009 said, immediately moving to one of the editing stations.

The Captain’s masked face turned slightly in your direction, his geometrical mask facing you for a fleeting moment. Your breath hitched and you braced yourself inwardly, waiting for any task he would give to you. But instead of speaking, he simply turned away, his focus shifting back to the workers and the room’s activity.

You stood behind him, feeling tiny compared to his tall, strong figure. From where you were, you noticed the sharp lines of his coat and the way his gloved hands rested at his sides. He looked like he was completely in charge of everything, and even though neither of you said a word, it felt like the air between you was charged with some kind of energy. You couldn’t explain it, but it made you feel nervous, like he could see right through you without even speaking.

Your gaze drifted upward, catching the faint reflection of yourself in one of the monitors. Beneath the square mask, your heart pounded, your thoughts racing. Why had he looked at you? Why hadn’t he given you anything to do? Was he testing you?

“009,” the Captain’s voice broke the silence after a few minutes, deep and distorted as always. “Report.”

009 responded immediately, “The edits are nearly complete, Captain. All footage meets the standards for clarity and focus. There are no delays in the transmission to the VIPs.”

The Captain gave a small nod in approval. Before he could say more, his radio crackled briefly. The distorted voice of the masked officer came through. “Captain, there is a commotion among players in the hallway close to the restrooms.”

Your attention snapped to the conversation immediately. You straightened instinctively, your heartbeat picking up speed. The Captain gave no visible reaction, his body language calm and composed as he lifted the radio closer to his masked face. “Report.”

“Several O players started a fight against the X players,” the masked officer reported. “Some of them were player 124, 100, 388, 333, and 222.”

Your eyes widened beneath your mask, your breath catching in your throat. Player 222… Jun-hee. The image of her flashed in your mind. Her small, trembling form, her hands protectively cradling her pregnant belly. Fear surged through you. What is happening? Why is she involved?

The masked officer continued, “Do we intervene, captain? Further losses of players would ruin the next game.”

The Captain said nothing at first, the silence hanging heavy in the room. Then, he turned his masked face directly toward you. The weight of his gaze pinned you in place. Even though you couldn’t see his eyes, you felt as though he was peering straight into your thoughts. You stared back at him, your heart thudding loudly in your ears. You didn’t need him to say it. You already knew what he was about to ask.

“007,” the Captain finally said. “Go.”

You bowed your head respectfully. You spun on your heel and left the room in a calm demeanor. But as soon as you were out of sight, you quickened your pace, practically jogging as you navigated the labyrinth of colorful staircases.

Your heart pounded fiercely against your ribs, every beat a reminder of the urgency of the situation. The bright, almost whimsical colors of the walls felt jarring, out of place against the heavy dread settling over you. Jun-hee… what were they doing to her? Was she hurt? Was she safe? The thought of her, vulnerable and frightened, made your stomach churn. She didn’t deserve this.

As you descended another flight of stairs, two triangle guards appeared from a side corridor. They immediately fell into step behind you. You glanced over your shoulder briefly, your pulse spiking until you recognized the marks on their uniforms.

It was 011 and Gyeong-seok; the latter still disguised as soldiers. It seemed they had caught wind of the commotion. Their familiar presence sent a small wave of relief washing over you, though your anxiety remained. They flanked you without a word. The three of you moved as one, your pace quickening as you closed in on the hallway near the restrooms.

“This way,” 011 said softly, her voice barely audible beneath the hum of the facility. You were grateful for her guidance and you followed. Your focus was razor-sharp now. Whatever was happening, you had to get there. You had to protect Jun-hee and your friends. In this place, survival wasn’t just about making it through the games. It also meant defending yourself against players who had no qualms about killing one another.

The three of you arrived at the source of the commotion, the sound of shouting and scuffling growing louder with each step. The moment your gaze landed on the scene, you froze, your breath catching in your throat. Behind your square mask, your eyes widened in horror.

Player 124, the late Thanos’ friend, was towering over player 333, his fists flying with relentless fury. Each punch landed with a sickening thud, and player 333, sprawled on the floor, tried desperately to shield himself, his arms raised defensively. He couldn’t get up; the assault was unrelenting, leaving him completely at the mercy of his attacker.

Nearby, two more O players were savagely kicking another figure who was curled into a tight fetal position. His arms were wrapped protectively around his head, his knees pulled to his chest. You could clearly see his entire form trembling as if in extreme fear. From your vantage point, you couldn’t see who it was, but the viciousness of the attack made your stomach churn.

Then your eyes darted to Jun-hee, who was on the floor a few feet away. She was crawling, her trembling hands stretched out toward the man being kicked, as though trying to shield him despite her own fear and condition. Before she could reach him, one of the O players broke away from the group and stormed toward her, his face contorted with rage.

“You bitch!” he roared, his voice echoing off the walls. “You should’ve been dead! You should’ve been eliminated, and because of you, that round restarted and all my friends are gone!”

He must be referring to the Open, Dongdaemun game, when Jun-hee, the mother, and three other players were caught in the area of elimination and you restarted the round.

Jun-hee’s flushed face turned upward, tears streaking down her cheeks as she cradled her belly protectively. She froze, wide-eyed, as the man raised his fist, ready to strike.

But then something tugged at his ankle. The man staggered slightly, his focus snapping downward. There, on the floor, was Dae-ho. Blood dripped from his battered face, his nose swollen and bleeding, but his eyes burned with determination. Despite his injuries, despite the beating he’d already endured, he clung to the man’s ankle with all the strength he had left.

“Get away from her!” bellowed Dae-ho, his voice hoarse but unwavering.

The O player sneered, kicking at Dae-ho’s hand to free himself. Then another voice joined in, “You should’ve just stayed down!”

It was player 226. He stood beside player 100, who watched the chaos unfold with greedy and sickening enthusiasm. They were encouraging the Os to continue as they were content to let the others do their dirty work.

Player 226, his sneer widening, stepped forward and raised his leg, ready to drive his shoes into Dae-ho’s already bloodied face. However, you’d had enough.

Reaching for your revolver, you unlatched the safety in one smooth motion. Raising it to the ceiling, you fired a single shot. The deafening crack echoed through the hallway, silencing the chaos in an instant. Every head turned toward you, their expressions a mix of shock and fear as they registered the weapon in your hand.

“That’s enough,” you said, your voice distorted behind the mask but still commanding. The air around you seemed to shift as you stared down the O players who you knew for sure had started this bloody fist fight. 011 and Gyeong-seok were behind you, holding their MP5s at ready. For the first time, you felt... powerful.

Player 124 and the Os who had been beating and kicking player 333 and Dae-ho backed away immediately, retreating toward the wall. Player 333 and Dae-ho, battered and bruised, struggled to their feet. Blood smeared their faces, hands, and uniforms as they limped to stand protectively in front of Jun-hee, who was still trembling near the opposite wall. Her hands were tightly cradling her belly, tears streaking her flushed face.

“Hey!” player 100’s voice rang out, filled with indignation. He jabbed a finger in your direction, his fury evident in the way his eyes widened like saucers unevenly. “Why are you interrupting us?! Aren’t you supposed to just stand aside and let us be?! Why are you stopping us now, of all times?!”

For a moment, the hallway fell silent except for the heavy breathing of the injured players. All eyes were on you, waiting for your response. You felt the weight of their stares. Behind your square mask, your mind raced to formulate an answer that would justify your interference while maintaining the facade of authority.

You stood still for a moment, your thoughts racing behind the mask. You knew that the players weren’t the only ones watching you. Somewhere, the guards in the control room were likely observing through the CCTV too. You had to justify yourself to everyone.

Then again, the Captain had told you to “go”. That must have been a green light to intervene, right? You gripped the revolver in your hand tightly, resolving to follow through with his unspoken directive.

“Unnecessary fights will no longer be tolerated,” you stated, your voice calm but firm. “The total number of players is already critically low for the next game. Any further disruptions will jeopardize the next game to run smoothly.”

“Tolerated?” player 100’s voice rang out, laced with mockery and anger. He stepped forward slightly in defiance. “Since when do you care about what’s tolerated? You guards didn’t care when people were dying during lights out, did you? What changed now?”

011 raised her MP5 slightly, the weapon’s barrel glinting under the harsh lights of the hallway. Her voice cut through the rising tension, calm yet carrying an unmistakable edge. “Listen to the order, 100.”

“Order?” player 100’s voice rose, echoing through the hallway. “Give me a break! You didn’t care about ‘order’ when people were dying left and right during lights out. What’s so different now? Is it because there is a pregnant woman here?”

“The difference is,” you said, still calm, “your fist fight jeopardizes the next game. Further disruptions won’t be tolerated.”

“Jeopardizes the games?” he spat, stepping forward slightly. “What, because one player’s pregnant? Is that it? Are we supposed to pretend like there’s no special treatment here? Because it sure looks like there is.”

Your grip on the revolver tightened slightly, but your tone remained controlled. “The rules apply to everyone equally. Any player, pregnant or not, who participates in the games is subject to the same conditions. Your actions, however, directly endanger the balance of the competition.”

“Don’t make me laugh!” player 100 shouted, gesturing wildly. “We’re all fighting to survive, and now you expect us to play fair? Give me a break. You think you can scare me? You think that gun in your hand gives you power over us?”

Your patience, already stretched thin, finally snapped. Without a word, you strode forward, your shoes striking the floor with deliberate force. The revolver in your right hand glinted faintly. Player 100 faltered, his bluster evaporating as you closed the distance between you and him.

When you were mere inches away, you stopped, your masked face level with his. The air between you crackled with tension, and the other players shrank back, their eyes wide as they watched the confrontation unfold.

“Do you have a problem listening to orders, 100?” you asked, your voice low and cutting. The question hung in the air like a blade.

Player 100 stumbled back a step, his bravado completely gone. His gaze darted to the revolver in your hand, then back to your mask. For a moment, he looked like he might try to retort, but the words never came. Instead, he glared you up and down and muttered something under his breath.

He then turned around and stormed off. Player 226 shot you a stinky side-eye before following player 100. The rest of the O players trailed behind, with player 124 flicking off player 333 as he left.

Once the O players disappeared down the hallway, you turned your attention to player 333, Dae-ho, and Jun-hee. The two men immediately checked on Jun-hee, their concern evident.

“You okay?” Dae-ho asked gently.

Jun-hee nodded but then looked at him with worry. “But you… you're bleeding.”

Dae-ho quickly shook his head, forcing a grin. “I’m fine. This is nothing.”

“Like I said,” player 333 spoke up, his voice firm but calm, “we can’t let you go to the bathroom alone. It’s better to have two men with you at all times. Everyone now knows you’re pregnant.”

“But, Myung-gi…” Jun-hee’s voice softened as she turned her gaze to him. “You’re hurt too.”

So his name is Myung-gi, you thought, filing the information away.

Myung-gi straightened his lips and gave her a small nod, his tone reassuring. “I’m fine. Let’s go back.”

The three of them turned toward you and the other triangle guards, preparing to leave. As they began to walk past you, Jun-hee suddenly winced, her steps faltering slightly as her hand swiftly moved to her belly.

Your hand shot up instinctively, steadying her by placing it lightly on her shoulder. Jun-hee froze momentarily but avoided meeting your gaze, murmuring softly, “Thanks…”

You urged her calmly as your hand subconsciously brushed gently over the top of her head, smoothing her hair back toward her neck, “Go.”

Jun-hee’s reaction was immediate. Her wide eyes snapped to your masked face, her expression filled with surprise, almost disbelief. Her stare lingered, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of confusion. Why was she looking at you like that?

“Jun-hee,” Myung-gi called. “Let’s go.”

Jun-hee hesitated for a moment longer, her gaze lingering on you as though searching for something. But eventually, she turned and followed Dae-ho and Myung-gi. You stood still, watching as they moved further down the hallway, her steps slow and careful. Even as they walked away, Jun-hee’s gaze flickered back to you briefly, again and again.

You and the two triangle guards – 011 and Gyeong-seok – remained where you were until the trio disappeared from view. The silence in the hallway felt heavy, but none of you spoke. Instead, you exchanged quiet glances, a mutual understanding passing between the three of you. There was no room for discussion here. You all knew you were being watched. Somewhere in the labyrinth of colorful corridors, CCTVs were likely trained on you. And through those cameras, the masked officer and the Captain were likely observing every move.

Without a word, the three of you began to walk back the way you came. After a few minutes, 011 and Gyeong-seok peeled off from you in different direction. You didn’t look back as you continued alone.

***

The next thing you knew, two hours had passed. Time seemed to blur as you followed the Captain wherever he went. Manager 009 was always beside you, the two of you sticking close to the boss like shadows.

During this time, the Front Man went from room to room. He gave commands and checked on tasks to make sure everything in this twisted operation was running smoothly. He never raised his voice, but the way he spoke made it clear he expected perfection. Manager 009 got most of the work, being handed one task after another. Each one seemed complicated and time-consuming, but 009 handled them all quickly and without hesitation.

And you? Over those two hours, you only got three tasks. Each one was so simple it almost felt like a joke. You stood guard at a door for five minutes, delivered a report to a nearby circle guard, and checked a number on a screen. None of it took much effort. You finished each task easily, but the simplicity of it all left you confused.

Why was the Front Man treating you differently? Was it because 009 had already proven how capable they were, while you hadn’t yet? Or was there something else going on? The thought kept nagging at you, even as you tried to focus on blending in. You couldn’t decide if you should feel relieved that your tasks were so easy or offended that you weren’t trusted with more responsibility.

It reminded you back when you were tending to your part-time job. Even here, you were still worrying about how you looked in the eyes of your “boss.” Old habits, it seemed, were hard to break.

However, thirty minutes into this, the three of you were ascending towards the control room when the Front Man suddenly halted in his tracks. The abrupt pause in the all-purple hallway made you and 009 stop as well. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, as the Captain slowly turned around to face you directly.

“007,” he said in his deep, distorted voice. “Head to the control room and take the elevator. It will lead you straight to the host's room above. It requires inspection. Check the lighting, furniture placement, and any potential issues. Check every room. Make a mental note of anything that needs attention, and inform the workers to handle it later.”

You blinked behind your mask, caught off guard by the sudden request. Now this was a difficult one. The host’s room? You had never been there but you didn't want to question him for fear of endangering your disguise and even show him that you were incompetent. So you kept your thoughts to yourself, lowering your head.

“Understood, Captain,” you replied.

The Captain stared at you for a moment longer before he turned to manager 009. “Continue with me to the next game's location. Ensure all workers are ready for tomorrow.”

“Yes, Captain,” 009 responded. Then, the two of them went back the way they came from down the hallway. You watched them for a second before turning toward the path that led to the control room.

You walked into the control room and saw managers sitting at their monitors, focused on their screens. You glanced around and noticed an elevator tucked beside the door you had just walked through.

Stepping up to it, you noticed the panel beside the door had only one button – an ‘up’ arrow. You pressed it. The doors slid open right away, revealing an elevator so bright unlike any other setting in this place. The inside was decorated in black and gold, looking fancy and elegant. The walls shimmered under soft lighting, and the floor was polished like a mirror. It felt too luxurious for this facility.

You stepped inside, glancing around quickly. There was only one floor option. You pressed the button, and the doors closed with a quiet hiss. The elevator moved up smoothly and seconds later, a small chime sounded and the doors slid open again.

The sight before you was stunning. The entire area was decorated in black and gold, making it feel grand and important. Directly outside the elevator was a long hallway with black doors on either side. At the end of the hallway, the space opened into a massive living room.

The living room looked like something out of a magazine. A huge television screen covered one wall, reflecting the soft glow of a fancy chandelier hanging above. Beneath it sat a single-seater sofa, placed right in front of the television. A small nightstand stood beside it. Other furniture was placed around the room – a table, a low cupboard with a diorama on top of it. The furniture and decorations were neatly arranged, making the living room look simple yet elegant, with the black and gold colors giving it a fancy and important feel.

You hesitated at the doorway, staring at the overwhelming luxury before you. Everything about it felt strange. You had seen wealth before, but this was different. It wasn’t just expensive. It was personal, like stepping into someone’s private space. Not only that. It felt like someone was watching you, even though you were completely alone.

The sound of the elevator doors beginning to close startled you into action. Without thinking, you quickly stepped forward into the hallway, the doors shutting behind you with a quiet finality.

Walking past the hallways and into the living room, you moved cautiously, inspecting the space. The sofa was perfectly neat, the cushions untouched. The nightstand held nothing above it. Then, the diorama caught your eye. It was a detailed miniature version of what seemed like a group of men playing musical instruments with a lady as a singer. Looking around, you realized there was another cupboard with a wired telephone.

Everything looked pristine, with no obvious technical issues in sight. Still, you wanted to inspect as much as possible per the Captain’s order.

In a way, you felt a small sense of satisfaction. Unlike the simple tasks he had given you before, this one required more effort. It almost felt like a test. It’s as if he was finally trusting you with something more significant. Not only that, but he had allowed you to enter this exclusive, luxurious space. Perhaps, through this task, you could learn more about this place and the way it operated.

You started by thoroughly examining the living room. You checked the lighting and other electronic systems. The television was in perfect condition, and the diorama sat undisturbed. The shelves were dust-free, and every piece of furniture was arranged with precision. It was as if no one had ever disturbed the space.

Satisfied with the state of the living room, you walked back into the hallway. Your gaze landed on the series of black doors lining the corridor.

You hesitated for a moment, debating whether to proceed further. Then, you remembered the Captain’s instructions – Check every room. That was as clear a green light as any.

You stepped up to the first door and pushed it open. The room inside matched the rest of the place, following the same black and gold aesthetic. It appeared to be a study with an expansive wooden desk in the center and several bookshelves lining the walls. Everything was arranged neatly with no signs of disarray. You checked the lighting, the air circulation, and the furniture’s condition before moving on.

The second room was a bathroom, designed with the same black and gold aesthetic. A large, polished black marble sink stretched along one side with gold-trimmed mirrors above it. The walk-in shower featured sleek glass doors and golden fixtures and a luxurious bathtub sat in the corner. It looked so deep and inviting. Like the study, this room was also flawless.

The third room contained what seemed to be a small, private meeting area. A circular table sat in the center, surrounded by four chairs. The walls were adorned with subtle gold accents, and a sleek control panel rested on the far side of the room. Like the others, this space was pristine with no indication of recent use.

Then, as you moved to the next door, you found yourself stepping into... a dressing room? Across from the door stood a mannequin dressed in a sleek black suit, its head adorned with a golden mask resembling an animal. Positioned on a raised platform, it gave the impression of something highly significant. Heavy black curtains flanked the display, adding to the dramatic presentation. To your left, a dressing table with a large mirror reflected the dim lighting of the room.

You glanced around and noticed a door, partially hidden behind the curtain. Curiosity tugged at you as you stepped closer and pushed it open. The moment you crossed the threshold, you stopped short. The lighting in this room was noticeably dimmer. It took you a moment to fully process what you were seeing. 

A bedroom.

A wide single bed was covered in black sheets, one pillow neatly propped against the headboard. A wardrobe stood to one side. A nightstand rested beside the bed. On the opposite side, a study desk held a large PC monitor. Several books were arranged precisely on both sides of the desk, accompanied by a lamp, a box of tissues, and a set of writing utensils. The air carried a distinct scent – leather, or perhaps a trace of cologne. In this room, the scent and presence of the Front Man lingered unmistakably.

On the other side of the nightstand was a solid black door. Before stepping through, you decided to check the bedroom thoroughly. You scanned the furniture, electronics, and every small detail, making sure everything looked normal.

Once satisfied, you finally approached the door and opened it. What lay beyond surprised you. A narrow brick hallway stretched to the right, dimly lit by a single flickering bulb. At the end of the hall, a staircase led downward toward another door.

Glancing over your shoulder, you checked for anyone nearby. You felt like you were sneaking around, but technically, you weren’t. The Captain had told you to check every room, and this was no exception, even if it seemed strangely hidden. Like no one was supposed to access it except the boss himself.

Taking a deep breath, you descended the stairs slowly. When you reached the bottom, you hesitated before pushing the door open. The room was completely dark. Your hand searched along the wall until you found a switch. With a quick flick, the lights came on, casting a yellowish glow over the space.

The walls, like the hallway, were entirely made of brick. Rows of shelves lined every side of the room, filled with neatly stacked files, books, and documents. One wall was blocked by a shelf of drawers, each labeled, though the text was too small to read from where you stood.

Careful not to disturb anything, you walked further inside, scanning the shelves and the layout. Everything was perfectly arranged, untouched, as if no one had been here in a long time.

Once you were sure nothing was out of place, you turned back toward the door, ready to leave. But just as you moved, something unusual caught your eye. Sitting on a shelf close to the door was a small black box wrapped in a neatly tied hot pink ribbon. Unlike everything else in the room, this object looked so out of place, so different than other documents here.

You wondered why this box seemed so different from the other documents in the room. Curiosity sparked, you moved toward it and carefully grabbed the box.

Lifting the lid, you found a single framed sheet of paper inside. The heading at the top read, “Round 6.” Below, two neatly organized tables filled the page, and in an instant, you understood what it was. This was a record of winners from this game, dating all the way back to 1988.

Your mind immediately flashed to Young-il. He had told you he was the previous winner of this game in 2015. His name had to be here. Maybe seeing it would bring you some comfort, even if only a little.

You quickly scanned the list, searching for the year 2015. Your eyes landed on the correct row, and you followed it across to the winner’s name.

Except… it wasn’t his name.

“Hwang In-ho?” you murmured, confusion washing over you. That wasn’t Young-il. No. It was supposed to be Oh Young-il.

Your grip on the frame tightened as your mind raced. Who was Hwang In-ho? And why wasn’t Young-il listed as the winner of the game he claimed to have survived?

Wait. You lifted your gaze from the framed paper and stared into space, a sudden coldness running down your spine. Was he lying to you? Was he never a previous winner? But he knew so much about the game.

A thought struck you. Your eyes darted to the shelves filled with records. There had to be complete participant records somewhere in this room. Setting aside the box and framed paper, you rushed toward the rows of meticulously arranged files, scanning them carefully.

Each file was labeled neatly along the spine. After a quick search, your fingers stopped on a section titled “List of Players.” Your heart pounded as you searched for the year 2015. It was easy enough to find since the files were organized chronologically.

You pulled out a thick folder labeled “List of Players 1, 2015” and flipped it open. Page after page detailed the participants, but you quickly realized you had forgotten Hwang In-ho's player number.

Rushing back to the framed paper, your eyes locked onto the number next to his name. 132.

You hurried back to the file, flipping through pages as you repeated the number under your breath. Your fingers trembled as you searched frantically.

Finally, you found it. Player 132.

Your breath hitched as your gaze landed on the ID player photo attached to the upper left corner of the page. Your eyes widened in shock.

It was Young-il. A much younger version, his face softer, carrying a faint, hopeful smile. But then your gaze drifted to the name printed beside it.

Hwang In-ho.

Your pulse pounded in your ears. But… wasn’t his name supposed to be Oh Young-il?

The loud, jarring noise of the door swinging open sent a violent jolt through your body. Your breath caught in your throat as your heart slammed against your ribcage. You had been so completely absorbed in the record that the sudden intrusion felt like a gunshot in the silence.

Your head snapped toward the entrance, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights behind your mask. There, striding purposefully into the room, was the Front Man.

His masked face turned directly toward you, his entire posture exuding an imposing authority. The door shut behind him with an ominous finality, locking you inside with him. The weight of his presence sent a wave of overwhelming fear crashing over you.

You had been caught.

Your hands trembled as you slowly straightened up, the weight of the file slipping from your grasp. It hit the floor with a loud, unceremonious thud.

The Front Man took a step toward you.

Instinct took over. You took a step back.

Another step forward. Another step back. He was closing in, his slow, deliberate pace like a predator closing in on its prey. The fear gripping your chest made your breaths shallow, quick, and sounded deeper and distorted behind the square mask you're wearing. You kept moving backward until your spine met the cold, unyielding brick wall. Your breath hitched.

He did not stop.

His approach remained unhurried, measured, yet filled with intent. The air around you thickened as if the shelves around you were closing in. You felt suffocated. You pressed yourself against the wall, fingers splaying against the rough brick as if searching for a way to melt into it, to disappear entirely.

Then, in his deep, distorted voice, he finally spoke.

“007,” he said, his tone slow and deliberate. “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize you?”

A cold chill gripped your heart, squeezing until you thought you might choke on your own fear. He knew.

You swallowed hard but your throat felt dry as sandpaper. Your body refused to move, paralyzed under his scrutiny. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to run but there was nowhere to go. No escape. You were trapped in the narrow space between the shelves and him.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Your mind raced, searching for a way to turn this around, to escape, to do something other than just stand there, vulnerable and completely at his mercy.

Your breath came in rapid, shallow pulls as your eyes darted across the dimly lit room, searching for any escape. The shelves boxed you in, towering with records of past games, past players, past victims. There was nowhere to go.

The Front Man were closing in on you, his presence suffocating you.

“You should’ve known you’d lose in this hide and seek game,” he said, his tone eerily calm yet heavy with unspoken threats.

Your fingers twitched at your sides. If you got caught now, what would happen? Would he spare you? 011 had said he would. But at what cost?

Your mind spiraled into terrifying possibilities. If you were spared, would he hand you over to the VIPs? Would you be nothing more than a prize, a twisted plaything for their amusement? The thought sent ice through your veins.

No. You had fought too hard. You had killed to protect yourself, to protect the people you loved, and to protect your body as a woman. You had survived this long and you weren’t about to surrender now. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to move, to fight.

Your breaths turned sharp, loud and unnatural through the mask. The Front Man took another step, his slow, measured pace sending a fresh wave of panic through you.

Then you remembered.

Your pistol.

The standard issue sidearm every square guard carried rested in the pocket of your jumpsuit’s bottom. Your grip tightened.

You braced yourself. The Front Man was getting closer, his figure looming over you, casting an inescapable shadow.

“You’ve been running long enough among these trashes,” he said, voice thick with certainty, with finality.

That was your moment.

You lunged for your pistol, fingers wrapping around the grip, yanking it free as you unlatched the safety in one swift motion. The cold weight of the gun grounded you. Without hesitation, you lifted it and fired.

But the Front Man moved with inhuman speed, ducking just before the bullet could meet its mark. His arm shot out to the side. You had no time to register what he was doing. Instinct took over, and you fired again.

Your shot met resistance, but not flesh. He had grabbed a thick file from a nearby shelf and raised it as a shield. The bullet struck the stack of papers, piercing but not stopping him.

Then he charged.

Like a predator finally closing in, his movements were terrifyingly fast, like a beast that had played with its prey long enough. He lunged forward, his dark form swallowing the space between you in an instant.

Your pulse spiked, adrenaline crashing through you. The walls of records blurred as your only thought became survival.

You had to move fast.

However, he caught you first. His gloved hand clamped around your wrist, twisting it just enough to force the revolver from your grasp. The weapon clattered to the floor. You gasped, breath hitching at the sudden loss of control – and at something else. His movement was eerily familiar.

Before you could dwell on it, he shoved you back. Your head was about to strike the brick wall and you instinctively shut your eyes tight. But instead of harsh impact, you felt a firm yet controlled buffer. His other hand had moved to cradle the back of your head, protecting your head against the wall with his gloved palm.

Your pupils dilated as the realization sank in, but there was no time to process. The Front Man was right there, his geometrical mask so close to yours that you could feel the heat of his breath through the distorted air of your own mask. His other hand wrapped around your throat. Not tight enough to choke, but enough to remind you that you were completely at his mercy.

Your legs were tangled. One of yours had slipped between his, and one of his was between yours, locking you both into place. The space between your bodies had nearly vanished, and the sound of rapid breathing filled the archive room. It belonged to yours and his, mingling together in the stillness.

A charged silence stretched between you. The tension was suffocating. Your chest rose and fell against his as adrenaline within you remained.

“You have allies,” his deep voice rumbled, low and unwavering, “among my guards.”

Before you could react, his gloved fingers slipped from your neck to the edge of your jumpsuit’s hoodie. A chilling realization gripped you. He was about to pull it down. To take off your mask. To expose you.

No.

Clenching your teeth behind the mask, you scrambled for a plan, for anything to break free. And then you felt it. His thigh, firm and brushing against yours.

With a sharp inhale, you moved. You slammed your knee against his, knocking his leg away, creating just enough space between your tangled bodies. Without hesitation, you raised your foot and kicked him squarely in the abdomen.

A grunt escaped him as he staggered back. You took the brief moment of respite to move. You turned sharply, gripping the nearest shelf, and with a raw, breathless yell, you shoved every file within reach off the shelves.

Papers and heavy binders cascaded toward him, crashing against his body, momentarily throwing him off guard. You didn’t wait to see how he recovered.

Heart pounding, you lunged past him, sprinting toward the door. Your fingers gripped the handle, yanking it open as you bolted up the stairs. Just as you reached the top, a heavy set of footsteps thundered behind you, fast and relentless, closing the distance far too quickly.

You didn’t dare to look behind you. Bursting through the door, you sprinted into the bedroom, but before you could make it halfway across the room, a force yanked your jumpsuit from behind. Your momentum was ripped away in an instant, fabric tearing as you were violently pulled backward and shoved onto the bed.

You landed sideways on the bed with a deep, distorted yelp behind your mask. Panic surged through you and you immediately scrambled to push yourself up but something heavy pressed down against you, shoving you back onto the mattress.

The Front Man.

He loomed over you, his weight pressing into you, keeping you pinned. You thrashed, twisting and bucking wildly beneath him, muffled grunts of struggle escaping your lips. His grip found your wrists and forced them down against the sheets.

Your legs were your last weapon. You kicked out violently, aiming for anything. His stomach, his ribs, even his groin. But he was faster as if he had anticipated your moves. In one swift motion, he maneuvered between your flailing limbs, pressing his legs firmly between yours to keep you restrained.

Even as he overpowered you, you refused to submit. You twisted, arched, struggled with everything you had, but he was stronger – far stronger. Unlike other men who had tried to take advantage of you, he wasn’t sloppy, he wasn’t careless. He was calculated and precise.

He held you there, unmoving like a boulder above you, as you thrashed beneath him. You fought with every last ounce of strength in your body but he didn’t budge. His sheer force pinned you down, absorbing each desperate attempt to break free.

Your breath came in sharp gasps, muscles screaming in exhaustion. Soon, your struggles slowed, jerky and uncoordinated, until they faded into mere trembling beneath his weight. Every attempt at escape had drained you, leaving your limbs weak and sluggish.

The only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths mixing with his heavy ones. Your chest rose and fell erratically, each inhale loud and desperate. His grip on your wrists didn’t waver. You glared up at the geometrical mask hovering inches above your face.

You felt the heat radiating between your bodies and the closeness. He remained still. The weight of his presence pressed into you, making your exhaustion feel even more overwhelming.

Your heart pounded wildly against your ribs, the realization settling in. You were trapped completely. He finally caught you.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. But in that heavy silence, an unspoken intensity hung between you.

He moved your wrists above your head, securing them in a firm grip with just his right hand. Your weakened struggle did nothing to deter him. His free hand reached for your hoodie, and this time, you didn’t resist. Your chest still heaved from exhaustion, breath escaping in rapid, uneven pulls as he pushed the fabric back.

Once your hoodie was down, his fingers slid to the back of your mask. With practiced ease, he unclasped it and pulled it away from your face. The mask left your skin, and he tossed it aside, letting it clatter somewhere in the distance.

Cool air kissed your damp skin, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat that had built beneath the jumpsuit. Sweat glistened along your face and neck, strands of hair clinging stubbornly to your skin. The sudden exposure made you hyper-aware of how raw and open you felt, your breath finally unfiltered, free in the space between you.

You glared up at him, your eyes burning with defiance despite your exhaustion. But he only stared. His mask tilted so slightly as if studying you. At this moment, his silence felt even more suffocating than any words he could have spoken.

Then, to your shock, he moved his left hand to the side of your face. His gloved fingers brushed against your damp skin as he gently tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear. Your breath caught in your throat. This action – so soft, so familiar – sent a jolt through you. Only one person had ever done this before. But why was he doing it?

Slowly, he withdrew his hand and moved it to his own hoodie. Your glare faltered when he pulled it down out of the blue. You could hardly believe it when he reached for the clasp at the back of his mask, unfastening it with ease. Your breath hitched, heart hammering against your ribs, as he slowly lifted it away.

And then, you saw him.

Your entire body locked in place, your breath caught in your throat. The world around you shrank, all sense of logic dissolving as your mind struggled to grasp what you were seeing.

It was him.

Young-il.

The man you thought had died. The man who had protected you, shielded you, fought alongside you. The man you had—

Your chest tightened, an overwhelming rush of emotions surging through you all at once. Relief, disbelief, betrayal, longing. The edges of your vision blurred and all you could do was stare, wide-eyed.

He looked just the same, but his hair was now slicked back neatly with oil, giving him an air of maturity and refinement that made him seem almost like a different man.

Your entire body trembled, overwhelmed with a torrent of emotions too vast to contain. It's like every emotion crashed into you all at once, leaving you breathless. You had mourned Young-il. You had thought he was gone forever, lost in the bloodshed of the uprising. Yet here he was, standing before you, alive. Breathing. Real.

But with that relief came something heavier, something darker.

Your chest tightened as realization set in. He had been behind that mask all along, watching, orchestrating, controlling the very nightmare you had been trying to survive. The games, the deaths, the suffering. Had all of it been at his command? Your mind raced, replaying every interaction you had with him back then, every moment of trust, every fleeting instance where you had allowed yourself to care. Had it all been a lie?

Was he ever truly one of us?

Your throat felt dry, your breath uneven. Why had he disguised himself as a player? Was it all some kind of elaborate test? A way to manipulate those around him? Or had there been something else – something deeper? Had he once been a victim of this place, just as you were? Or had he been in control from the very beginning?

Young-il stayed still above you, staring at you, his expression raw. The subtle tremble in his face betrayed the inner turmoil he tried so desperately to contain. His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to speak, to offer some kind of explanation, but no words came.

The silence stretched between you, thick with tension, with questions left unspoken, with truths too painful to acknowledge.

His eyes, always so guarded, flickered with something you couldn’t quite decipher. Regret? Pain? Guilt? You don’t know anymore.

Your breathing was still uneven, chest rising and falling with the weight of everything crashing down at once.

“You…” Your voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “You were behind it all?”

His expression faltered, the conflict within him breaking through for just a moment before he steadied himself. But you had seen it. The hesitation, the uncertainty, the battle he was fighting within himself.

And it terrified you.

Because despite everything, despite the betrayal, despite the horror of what he had done… He still looked like the man you had fallen for.

He leaned down, his face inching closer to yours. You realized in that moment that you hadn’t moved at all. His grip on your wrists was weak yet you remained still, your body slack. The moment you saw his face, it was as if Young-il had turned off your resistance. After all, before all of this, he was the one who made you feel safe.

His warm breath mingled with yours. His eyes flickered between yours and your lips, searching, waiting. Your chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, your mind racing. Should you resist? Should you let him?

The tension between you both thickened as he halted just an inch away. He hesitated, waiting for the slightest sign of resistance from you. When none came, he finally moved. Tilting his head slightly, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips against yours. You kept your eyes open, staring ahead, seeing his face so close to you. His lips were firm, yet soft, pressing against yours with calm restraint.

You should resist. He orchestrated this entire operation. He had bloods on his hands. He betrayed you.

Yet, memories flooded your mind. The way he had taken care of you, how he protected you time and time again. How he shielded you from danger, ensured you were safe, treated you like someone precious. Was it real? Or had it all been part of a larger deception?

But you wanted to believe. Wanted to believe that when he said you were his purpose, when he told you that you were worth protecting, that he wanted to take care of you more than as friends – you wanted to believe it was all real.

You were lost in the trance of the moment until he deepened the kiss, his lips pressing more insistently against yours. You could feel it. He could barely restrain himself the longer he kissed you. A quiet sound escaped you as he pulled you further into it. And you found yourself liking it. Your lips parted shyly and he took the invitation, his tongue delving into your mouth with increasing hunger.

His grip on your wrists disappeared, his hands moving to unzip your jumpsuit instead. Yet, you kept your hands where they were, fingers brushing against the sheets above your head, as your eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the moment and to him.

NEXT : Chapter 17.1

PREV : Chapter 15

Story Masterlist

Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones! It motivates me a lot! What do you think about you guarding the Front Man and you remembered a flashback when 011 told you that you might be spared because of the VIPs? Do you think that's the case? And what about the brawl between Myung-gi, Dae-ho (while protecting Jun-hee) against Nam-gyu (124) and the O players? Do you think scene like this will appear in Season 3? Also I want to know your thoughts on you finally confronted player 100 in that scene. And why did Jun-hee kept glancing at you afterward? Next, why do you think the Front Man suddenly gave you the task to inspect the host's room? And now, the moment you all have been waiting for. What do you think about the Front Man confronting you in the archive room? Then you two had a brief scuffle - and he did not even try to harm you - and then you were pinned to his bed. What do you think about the scene of you two on his bed, finally seeing one another's face? Do you like this direction I take to reveal his face? I've been thinking a lot about this moment and could finally write this down. What do you think about the kiss?

Besides that, I want to know. How many of you are underage? You might want to avoid the next chapter. Now I wonder how to separate the NSFW scene from the next chapter so underage readers couldn't read it.

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

[patchouii]

I am re-watching the show for the 23rd time and I am Having Thoughts. Hannibal’s desire to push Will into his “becoming” is very transparently rooted in his desperate desire for an equal, for someone who could understand him and see him as he is without running away. I think some of the fandom assumptions about the medical malpractice and manipulations that Hannibal carried out with Will interpret it as Hannibal only toying with him, turning Will into someone whose darkness is subservient to his. If that was what he wanted, there were plenty other easier targets who had already embraced or acquiesced to acts of violence that he could pick— Randall, Dolarhyde, Tobias, maybe even Margot. And yet he chose Will, time and time again. He wants someone who has the ability to choose him in return, someone who can see— not someone who is blinded. When Will pulls a gun on him, he says “the scales have fallen from my eyes”— and Hannibal smiles.

Hannibal often seems like a very complicated and even mysterious character on the surface, but he’s actually supremely understandable— part of the horror of it all is that you can’t help but sympathize with the villain, once you look into him further, and you can’t help but wonder how far you might have gone in his place. The audience is cleverly made into a mirror of Will’s own struggles with those questions. It’s baked into our DNA to seek connection and others who can understand and therefore aid and support us, our ancient ancestor’s main evolutionary advantage was their ability to form social groups and have strength in numbers. Hannibal knows this, too, and he knows the futility of it regarding himself— one of the first things Jack says to him is that he enjoyed his paper on “the evolutionary origins of social exclusion”. There’s irony here. Jack enjoys the paper, he does not have to suffer its truths like its author does.

Hannibal can either let the cold fact of how he’s destined to be alone in a world that’s against him by nature crush him slowly, or he can convince himself that his singularity means that he’s superior, that he’s above all others. Being different is a useless pain unless different means better. Who wouldn’t choose comfort over suffering? Hannibal’s tableaus are almost always referred to as mockeries, as an outlet for his sadism and superiority complex. However, I disagree with this a little— they’re also beacons. They are the work of a desperate man, whether he realizes it or not. Hannibal’s elaborate tableaus are publicly displayed, he puts the utmost effort into them, he makes the brutality beautiful, too— which makes the average and sane person shy away from them even more, and that’s the point of them! His tableaus are messages, sent out into the world in the hopes that someone can see the beauty of the darkness in them like he can, that someone can understand them, and through that, understand him and choose him. It’s reminiscent of how bowerbirds build their elaborate nests in the hopes of finding a mate their choices of flowers, twigs and berries will agree with.

Will is the first person who sees them as something more than abominations. He truly considers Hannibal’s statement that “God kills people all the time, and are we not created in his image?” in episode two when they’re still essentially strangers, after he’s admitted that killing Hobbs felt good and powerful. He considers the fact that they share an appetite before the encephalitis and Hannibal’s manipulations get ahold of him— and then he ignores and rejects it. He and Will are the only two people in their separate world— and yet Will has still rejected him, choosing the slow suffocation of being different without being better, without “becoming”. To Hannibal, this is a waste not only of Will’s life, but of his, too.

Will has chosen to continue subsisting on the scraps of other’s darknesses, afraid of committing to his own, afraid of the facts of his existence. Hannibal’s decision to scale Will’s walls just as Bedelia said about his comes with the extra weight of choosing to tear them down behind him. The fact that he never anticipated the result of finding his only equal in the world being falling in love with him is a testament to how utterly alone he’s always been. Love and true connection is foreign to him, and it is terrifying in how helpless it makes him, in how terrible it is because of the fact he can’t resist its beauty and allure. Beauty and terror are the features of a God. Hannibal tells Bedelia that love is a God, and he compares Will to God over and over.

Will is his God. He has made Hannibal’s world anew, and Hannibal can’t help but be willing to do anything to have Will join him there.

[pforestsims]

If you create CC for TS2 you probably avoid using DXT1 format, because it often looks really bad, right? Well, I've got news for you😐

‣ SimPe texture viewer can't correctly decode DXT1 textures. It often displays artifacts not visible in the game.

Up until now it was not possible to extract such texture from a package without 'glitches'. @chieltbest recently shared their revolutionary YaPe package editor. It's an experimental version, for now - it's still being developed - but I've already edited 180+ CC textures with no issues. YaPe is very easy to use. It allows you to reconvert textures inside a package to different format, remove or add mipmaps with one click, replace textures with drag and drop method - supports JPEG, TIFF, DDS and more! You can get it here.

YaPe editor is also the only app I know, that allows you to extract DXT1 texture from the package file without glitches. Below the cut you'll find a little tutorial on that. I also included a detailed comparison of DXT textures built with various plugins:

Note: YaPe is a huge time saver, however I still recommend SimPe for textures with smooth gradients, where quality is very important - such as skintones, and especially dark ones (also for removing mipmaps from such content, current version of YaPe rebuilds textures in the process fixed).

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

*DXT1 format has gained a bad reputation amongst TS2 creators, mostly because of borked SimPe DXT1 texture preview/export.

But the fact is - DDS plugins (aside from SimPe DDS Builder) create DXT1 that looks quite similar or identical to flat DXT3 / DXT5.

Important thing about DXT1 format: file size is around half smaller than DXT3/5.

‣ What's wrong with SimPe DXT1 textures?

Nothing, really. SimPe /Nvidia tools DDS builder is using special settings for DXT1. It saves textures as DXT1a format.

Unlike ordinary DXT1 (DXT1c) that doesn't support transparency at all, DXT1a format has basic 1-bit transparency switch. DDS builder 'hides' black pixels from compression by enabling transparency - this trick is actually meant to reduce artifacts in some areas /thanks @chieltbest for explaining this/.

Transparent parts of DXT1a texture are displayed as black in the game, as long as TXMT doesn't have transparency enabled.

Below: DXT1a previewed in YaPe. Left pic features transparent pixels (hard to notice if you enable dark UI mode). Please note that, unlike SimPe, it displays colors and grays correctly.

‣ Extracting DXT1 texture without 'glitches' in YaPe:

Open package in YaPe editor. Preview TXTR resource, pick AltRGB24 (Raw24Bit) from dropdown menu.

AltRGB24 preview displays flattened version of the texture (texture background is exposed)

'Export DDS' button creates .dds file out of the previewed texture

/optional: If you save the changes, then you can reload the package and convert from Raw to DXT format/

exported DDS texture can be opened in apps with DDS plugin - GIMP, Paint.NET etc.

if you don't have apps with DDS plugin, you can use SimPe (click on texture in SimPe, pick 'import DDS..', choose dds exported in YaPe, then export as PNG.

Pic above: Yet Another Package Editor v0.4.0, light UI mode. My sample DXT1a texture in Alpha preview - transparent pixels are clearly visible.

⚠️ Editing original SimPe DXT1a texture with YaPe (removing or adding mipmaps - for example) and saving as DXT1 again, will most likely increase the number of 'false artifacts'

..however, the texture will still look decent in game. I edit CC with DXT1a for my own use that way - because reconverting to other formats doesn't improve texture quality, might even make it a little worse in some cases.

BUT if you're going to share such content, it might be best to reconvert it. Because if it looks very glitchy in SimPe, it also looks glitchy in Sims2Pack Clean Installer. And people might just delete it.

Alternatively, if you use DXT1 for your CC, you could inform people that "glitches" in SimPe / Clean Installer preview are not visible in the game.

DXT1 vs flat DXT 3/ 5:

(YaPe allowed me to extract SimPe DXT1a texture without glitches)

*Yes, flat DXT1 and DXT3 / DXT5 created in GIMP really looked exactly the same.

GIMP had 'perceptual error metric' option on, it slightly improves some details.

so, who won?

You be the judge. Overall, I think YaPe (v0.4.0) did really good in this particular case.

SimPe DTX3 shows more artifacts in the blue/ turquoise /black dots area but dark gradients are smoother than others. GIMP DXT had issues with black dots over the pink - red tones seep into black.

SimPe DXT1 is not bad, but has some issues - a few artifacts appeared over thin black & white stripes. Also, blurred colors in the middle became a bit crunchy. /Dark brown gradients are better than GIMP DXT tho/.

‣ DXT5 Alpha-channel quality

The difference between DXT3 and DXT5 lies only in the way transparency is handled. DXT5 can store more alpha-channel grayscale information and offers much smoother transparency.

Pic above: alpha-channels extracted from DXT5 (white = opaque parts, pure black = 100% transparent). These looked basically the same so I did another test using more demanding texture - darker alpha gradients plus thin lines:

YaPe has produced very nice alpha channel without much artifacts, the gradient looks almost as the source. SimPe DXT5 - also clean details, but surprisingly, darkest parts of the gradient are a little bit choppy. GIMP DXT5 and the other two show tiny pixel artifacts around light lines.

Last pic above is DXT3 alpha-channel for comparison - crisp details are clean, but gradients are very choppy. I've compared various plugins, all produced identical DXT3 alpha. DXT3 format is OK for stuff that's using alpha-test transparency (not smooth, not see-through) - leafy plants etc.

*Please note that's exactly why transparent clothing looks so bad when created with Bodyshop - it doesn't use DXT5, only DXT3.

GIMP DDS exporter allows you to improve transparent mipmaps for plant textures etc, you need to select 'Preserve alpha test coverage' and increase the threshold if required - it will make very thin details a bit more thick on zoom-out and reduce details disappearing.

YaPe editor also has an option to tune transparent mipmaps (increase the value with "preserve transparency" slider). YaPe lets you preview each mipmap, which is very convenient. Here's a detailed tutorial by Chieltbest.

‣ Color gradient: DXT3 /DXT5

Paint.NET (DDSFileTypePlus 1.12.13.0) did best in this case, thanks to agressive error-diffusion dithering. SimPe DDS Builder DXT 3/5 did really good and you probably won't find better DDS plugin for building clothing or skintone DXT textures, especially dark skins.

Next goes YaPe editor - gradient is quite smooth, aside from the darkest tones - quite choppy. GIMP DXT and Intel Texture Works are so-so.

*I already posted one DXT formats test here, it features darker gradients. I still need to compare how textures look as actual SimSkin or overlays in game. The TS2 game is not great at displaying grey / dark color gradations, especially on Sims...

Above, uncompressed png texture for reference.

[theunsinkableship1]

Welp! That was awkward...

⚠️Disclaimer: This is a Lukola space, skip if you don’t believe.

Welp! That was awkward. Maybe I’m speaking too soon and more photos or videos from the event will surface that disprove this, but… the curiousness of what we’ve seen so far can’t be ignored.

At the recent British Vogue x Netflix pre BAFTA TV awards Party, the absence of public interaction between Luke and Nicola, who showed up and showed out but posed separately on the red carpet, has sparked curiosity among Lukolashippers. At an event like that, it’s hard not to notice how Luke and Nicola, who have always shared undeniable chemistry and public closeness and as recent as the SAG did not interact publicly or pose together. Not even a candid glance caught by photographers. This contrasts with previous events where Luke and Nicola held hands on the red carpet, displaying a close rapport. That’s undeniably odd, especially given their dynamic during the Bridgerton promo era (handholding, hugs, deep eye contact, constant proximity). Their sudden avoidance of public interaction, especially at high-profile events like this, suggests intentional distancing. Whether this is personal (a pause in closeness, maybe emotional conflict) or strategic (to shut down rumors or protect something private), it’s clearly not casual. The shift in their public demeanor could be attributed to various factors but that absence feels deliberate, or at the very least, strategic.

But what makes things even more intriguing is the presence of Luke’s partner. She was photographed alone, multiple times, with no apparent professional credit or known affiliation to the event in her own right. No shots with Luke, despite having posed with him publicly before, notably in February at the latest BAFTA party. Additionally, Luke's ex, actress Sophie Simnett, attended and posed solo. While other attendees were photographed together, the lack of joint appearances among these individuals may suggest a deliberate effort to maintain personal boundaries or manage public narratives.

Why now, when speculation is high, wouldn’t they appear side by side to calmly confirm their closeness?

From a PR perspective, this was a missed opportunity. One shared frame between Luke and his girlfriend could have eased tensions, neutralized the persistent narrative about him and Nicola, and clarified things. Likewise, a warm, friendly interaction between Luke and Nicola would have reassured fans who sensed distance lately. But nothing of the sort appeared. From a PR standpoint, if the goal were to shut down "Lukola" speculation clearly and cleanly, the smartest move would’ve been: Luke, Nicola, and the girlfriend photographed together smiling, interacting, maybe even embracing or laughing naturally. If all three were seen comfortably together, It would signal there’s no tension or hidden romantic drama. It would disarm fans who see the partners as a wedge. It would allow everyone to move forward under the public impression: "They’re friends, they're supportive, everything is fine." So, why didn’t they do it? That’s the real question. Wouldn’t it make sense for a smiling photo of all three together to emerge? That would send a clear message: everything’s friendly, everything’s transparent.

So maybe that’s the answer in itself. Maybe it wasn’t done because it couldn’t be done without discomfort, without contradiction, or without revealing more than they’re ready to show. If Luke and Nicola are not emotionally aligned with the girlfriend’s presence or if the said girlfriend and Nicola aren’t actually close, then forcing a staged moment would look fake, or risk revealing tension on camera. Even though Nicola follows her now and likes her content, that could be strategic or polite, not genuine friendship. Maybe they don’t want to make any statement at all. Sometimes silence is the chosen strategy because any image would stir more theories. If they posed together, Lukola fans might say it was "forced" or "PR damage control." They may be choosing ambiguity to avoid fueling either narrative. Whether it’s emotional, romantic, or strategic, the fact that Nicola and Luke, the best of friends, avoid interacting publicly suggests there might be a deep, unresolved bond there. When you lay it all out, the silence is kind of deafening, isn’t it? For people who've been so magnetic and visibly close in the past whether professionally, personally, or both to suddenly active the stealth mode and move through a public space like that without even a glimmer of acknowledgment between them… it feels unnatural.

And the girlfriend factor adds another layer of strangeness. If she’s meant to be the "girlfriend," why the solo photos? Is she a celebrity ?Why not cement the narrative if there’s nothing to hide ? Instead, it all feels like everyone’s tiptoeing around something no one wants to name.

There’s something performative missing, but also something real simmering beneath. Sometimes silence isn’t just quiet, It’s full.

Update: Welp this is awkward : https://vm.tiktok.com/ZNd6wgVuP/

[the-world-annealing]

The rise of AI has caused incredible damage to art, or: what ate up their brains and imagination?

(Surface Level, by me just now)

This used to be even longer, believe it or not. A bit more personal than I thought it was going to be and there's a few sections where I mostly talk about myself - the bored reader is invited to simply skip those.

I enjoy worldbuilding. I've written probably a small novel's worth of worldbuilding Tumblr posts by now (especially if we're including Dawn of Worlds, a collaborative worldbuilding RPG that I played in 2023 and 2024). Other creative hobbies of mine include writing one-page TTRPGs, or designing custom Magic: the Gathering cards, or designing fakemons, or fangames, or whatnot. None of this is good enough to sell, nor do I need it to be. I simply enjoy working on it.

As I understand it, 'art' is increasingly synonymous with 'creative expression', so I suppose I might be a capital-A Artist, but I don't really use that term for myself. 'Creative' feels more neutral, and more honest. 'Tinkerer' captures how it feels to me, having all these pieces and trying to crystallize them into an arrangement that makes sense. That's what I named myself after - the world annealing, see?

Back on topic: I might not call myself an artist (for visual arts specifically, the picture above is as good as it gets) but I think I share a lot of the key motivators. I enjoy creating. I enjoy displays of skill. I like making something that others can use and giving it to them for free. I want to make good, useful, or interesting things, and I want them to look nice. Most of all, I want to add my own ideas to the endless conversation that humans have been having since the dawn of time.

One of my favorite authors is Alexander Wales (whose tumblr you can find here), best known for giant-sized webnovels like the 1.6 million words Worth the Candle. In a post fittingly titled The AI Art Apocalypse, he writes:

["Art is a communicative act. It’s a conversation. You see a picture and it makes you feel a certain way, and yes, sometimes you silently process that art, but most of my favorite aspects of art as discussing it with other people, wrestling with the art in public, teasing out what it’s trying to do, or what it’s doing without trying. I generally think that this is one of the best parts of being an author or an artist, this very public back and forth."]

I agree with this completely.

-----------

That was as good a bridge as any, let's talk about AI now.

A lot of the points leveraged against AI art are kind of bad. Gaming for an hour on a decent consumer PC consumes about 0.5 kWh - generating a hundred images with stable diffusion takes 0.005 kWh (other models are less transparent due to their proprietary nature, but given that it's ultimately corporations paying the power bill I don't see why electricity costs would be needlessly higher). Arguments that focus on the training data being used without permission need to contend with the fact that fully licensed generators are a reality now.

But those arguments are also not why people are against AI art in the first place. That goes back to all the subjective, intangible values I brought up in my introduction - the desire to create something personal, or interesting, or new, or inspiring, or useful. The desire to have an audience, however small. The desire for individual expression, for something other than Extruded Corporate Media Product, forever. For art that speaks and invites response - for conversation.

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Creation is compromise. As I said, my real interests lie in the directions of prose writing and game design. If I was also a skilled visual artist, I could create illustrations to accompany my stories and games and 180-card custom MtG sets, and this would almost certainly improve them.

But I'm not a skilled visual artist, and I don't have infinite free time, and even if I could draw real well I think I would prefer ten hours of writing over four hours of writing and six hours of illustrating it. Nor do I have the money that would make it realistic for me to commission a hundred and eighty digital paintings. So it goes.

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In Dawn of Worlds, each player takes the role of a god and helps shape the development of a world. My character was Haebarik, god of travel, a lanky red-haired giant with skin the color of slate, born from a tree on the world's first island. Distraught at the emptiness of the early world, he tore off his right arm, and cast it over the horizon, and where it landed it became the first continent. I liked this beat - it felt very mythic, not like a sanded-off modern fantasy narrative.

This was my own creation, and I am proud of it, even though it's irrevocably tainted.

See. when the game started I decided that I was going to need some kind of visual reference of my character, for the benefit of the other players if not myself. I spent some time prompting and tweaking the then-new stable diffusion, and eventually got an image I found acceptable - except that, in the wonkiness typical of such models, it'd only drawn a single arm. But seeing it, I was struck by inspiration, and in the end it made my work better.

(and to reflect the myth, the continent I drew on the map was shaped like an arm, and that shape inevitably influenced the other player's actions, and after a while I created a species that like their god only had one arm, and all of this enriched the conversation we were having and the art we were creating - or did AI poison it all?)

-----------

As I mentioned, I'm in a lot of creative spaces that aren't for visual art per se but that are often adjacent to visual art. There's a lot of people there who've clearly put a lot of effort in their craft, whose work has genuine passion and genuine personality. And sometimes I see those people reach for AI art because they've decided that illustrations would improve their work, and then they get brigaded for it.

What are we even defending here? Not beauty (it doesn't have to look good, just don't use AI), not authenticity (it doesn't have to be yours, just don't use AI), not even individual vision (it doesn't have to look like you want to, just don't use AI). It's so depressingly negative - art not defined by the presence of a human, but the absence of a machine.

More charitably, I suppose these people are asking for 'effort' or 'personality', but by what standard does a 1-minute MS paint doodle count as effortful and personal, but not The Secret Origin of Wally ManMoth? Are we guarding individual expression, or forcing it into a straitjacket?

(TSOoWM of course also doubles of a beautiful example of how DALL-E's 'overcooked plastic' look is not inherent to AI - and how someone skilled at 90% of a creative process can use it to fill in the gaps)

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I'm not afraid that AI will kill art - it can't do that; nothing can. But this post's title wasn't a lie: I really do think that something awful has happened. There's an ever-sharpening divide between the communities willing to experiment with this new tool and those vehemently against it, a divide that might actually be sustainable in this age of algorithmic feeds and walled gardens.

Art is a communicative act. We are seeing the emergence of a side that would not merely cut off communication with the other, but deny they are worth listening to - deny they could speak, definitionally. If people actually started to believe that, it would betray a greater failure of imagination than any glassy-eyed slop ever could.

[cheolhub]

sarrrrrrr🩷 happy bday to cheolhub!!! you are fr one of my favourite accounts on here. i always get so happy seeing ur name pop up on the dash whdjshsjs, i hope you’re doing well & drinking your water & looking after yourself 🫶

coulddddd i possibly req ❛ let me come in you, please. i want to fill you up. ❜ & precious vernon for your event? 🫶

8:01 p.m. – hansol vernon chwe

prompt. “let me come in you, please. i want to fill you up.”

wc. 2k+ 

warnings. unprotected sex for the first time, creampie, saying ‘i love you’ during sex, pet names [baby], a very needy couple ^^!!! — MINORS DNI 18+

note. j u are too sweet im gonna cry !!! thank you thank you thank you !!! i love u sm, i hope u like this >< i’ve been wanting to write vernon a lot recently so i went a little bit overboard with this one,,,, and it’s not my best so i apologize bsgsgs [not proofread, kinda rushed]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ join the birthday bash!  ࿐ྂ

hansol vernon chwe has never been one for public displays of affection. any type of affection– kissing, hugging, holding hands, etc. it’s just awkward. it always is and he’d rather keep it to himself. keep you to himself.

and vernon is usually so patient when it comes to his hunger for you. he’s so virtuous and so composed. it’s admirable, really. but there are nights, like this one in particular, where he just wants to sink his teeth into you and mercilessly fuck you into the mattress. 

these nights don’t come by very often. they rarely ever do, honestly. he only thinks tonight is different because he hasn’t touched you in over a week. there was no real reason for it, you just kept missing each other due to your taxing schedules. 

so you planned a date on a night that you knew you were both free. something nice, giving you an excuse to doll yourself up for your boyfriend. 

you did exactly that and vernon’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he picked you up from your apartment. he thought you looked so fucking pretty. you looked so pretty gazing out the window in the passenger seat of his car. you looked so fucking pretty when you kindly laughed at the waiters joke (that wasn’t the slightest bit funny). you look so fucking pretty when you asked him, “are you okay, baby?” 

he wasn’t. how could he be okay when all he wanted was to put his hands on you and inhale the scent of your seductive perfume? how could he be okay when his cock was straining in his pants begging to be inside of you? how the fuck could he be okay when he needed you so fucking bad?  

of course, you could tell he was anything but fine. your boyfriend was stoic sometimes, but he always wears his emotions all over his pretty face. his carnal desire became obvious when he placed his hand on your thigh, squeezing at your flesh. and even more obvious when he pressed a few kisses to your jaw. and then blatantly obvious when he pressed his lips to the shell of your ear and said, “i’d rather eat something else.”

so you ate half your meal, paid the bill, and got the hell out of there because, if you were being completely transparent, you missed the way his cock felt inside of you. you missed tugging at his hair and marking his skin and the messy, messy kisses you always share. you missed him and a week apart from your lover was 5 days way too long. 

he’s already pressing his lips to the back of your neck by the time you get up to your apartment’s door, leaving wet kisses on your scolding hot skin. it’s distracting and your hands keep fumbling the keys, but you eventually get the two of you in. you lock the door and he practically chases you to your room, both of you breathily giggling. 

upon arrival, his hands are grasping and pulling at the clothing on your body in attempts to rip them off while yours do the same with his.

“need you so bad, baby.” he mumbles during his conquest, pulling almost everything off of you. 

when he sees the pretty set underneath your date outfit, he’s left breathless. shocked. and it’s not because he’s never seen you in something this pretty, but it’s that he’s right about to bust a load in his jeans. 

he groans, “fuck, i think i’m gonna cum.” 

“you’re cute.” you smile cheekily, pulling him on the bed with you. “better not be before i get to feel you, though.” 

“i’ll try,” he grunts, his cock twitching and throbbing in what feels like the world’s tightest boxers. 

you lay against your plush pillows, slipping your panties off and throwing them to the side, exposing your soaked pussy to the cool air that circulates through your room. you suck in through your teeth, spreading your legs open. “condom?” you ask expectantly.

he furrows his brows. “you don’t have any?”

you crack a grin at the frown that appears on his face when you shake your head. “you’re the one with a dick here! you should always keep one on you for emergencies. this would’ve been the perfect emergency.” 

“baby, we used all my emergency condoms and i forgot to buy more.” he huffs in frustration. “i can just run to the market and grab some. it’s not that big of a deal.” 

it is a big deal. his cock is aching.

you look at him in awe, “you’re that desperate? you’re gonna go all the way to the store and buy condoms, hansol?”

not that you’re any less desperate the way you clench around nothing and ruin the sheets under you.

he deadpans at your subtle teasing, “yes.” 

you hum, stomach twisting in anticipation at a vulgar thought that pops into your head. 

he could… just not use one.

he could fuck you raw and you could feel everything. “what if…” you shudder before you can even get the thought out. “what if we don’t use one?”

you think his face drains of color. “w-what?” he stutters, unsure if he heard you correctly. “baby… what did you say?”

you bite your lip for a second, feeling heat spread like wildfire through your entire body. “we can do it… without the condom. if you want?”

vernon is going to cum– untouched, in fact–  just at the mere thought of it. of-fucking-course he wants to, what kind of idiot would pass that up? (read: someone who isn’t actually an idiot)

“what about…” he trails off as his wide eyes look at your tummy. 

“i started birth control a while ago, baby, don’t worry.” you whisper. “it’s only if you're comfortable… but i’m okay with it… i trust you. and i wanna feel you.”

his heart pounds erratically and he’s tugging his boxers down before he can even form a proper response. his hard, leaky cock slaps against his abdomen and all either of you can think about is how it’ll feel without the latex barrier. 

he breathes out his words, as he presses against your drooling hole. “i’ll pull out.” 

“okay, baby.” you pant, hands already gripping at the sheets in preparation. 

though, you fear there was nothing you could do to prepare for this moment. feeling vernon’s cock— all of it— is amazing. heavenly… hot. you find yourself wishing you would’ve done this a lot earlier. you can’t believe how much of a difference there is.

you feel all the heat, all the veins that trace through his gorgeous cock, all the delicious friction and you’re fucking addicted to it. 

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” vernon moans, jaw going slack and his face pinching in euphoric pleasure. “baby, fuck, you’re so tight— feels so good.”

vernon has never felt anything so perfect in all his years. he feels your walls flutter around his bare cock as he bottoms out, finally buried deep inside of you. 

you wrap your arms around his neck and bring him down to press his mouth against yours. the entirety of the kiss is intense and passionate and you can’t think of a time you’ve felt this close to a man during sex. you can’t even recall a time you were this in love with a man.

you break, whining against his lips and tightly clenching around him. “move, please. need you to move.” 

he nods hotly, pulling his hips back and pushing them back against yours. he does this a few times, slowly thrusting into you until he builds a steady, consistent speed. the bulbous tip of his cock rams into your sweet spot with every shove. you can’t help the cry that bubbles in your chest or the way your legs wrap around his waist tightly.

“hansol,” you mewl, one of your hands snaking between your bodies and rubbing at your clit. “i-i love you.” 

he delivers a sharp thrust upon hearing your words. “i love you more, baby.” he responds with a wavered voice. “i missed you.”

you nod in agreement, clamping around him again, ultimately making vernon hiss. “me more,” you declare on a whine. 

“not a chance.” he grunts out but it falls on deaf ears. his words are practically silenced by the lewd squelching and your cute sounds that bounce off the four walls. 

and it’s all because vernon fucks you like his life depends on it. he feels your walls tightening around him with every thrust but there isn’t a single ounce of vigilance in his body. he wants to memorize every single second of this. burn all of this into his head. he wants to be able to recall the way your blunt fingernails dig into the smooth skin of his shoulders, your moans that sound even prettier in this moment, how your velvety walls flutter and pulse and grip around him as your cunt swallows him up.

his abdomen tightens, balls drawing up as he nears his desired release. before he can warn you, your breathing alarmingly picks up. your chest rises and falls rapidly, your whines and mewls get louder, you trap his cock in a tight grip, refusing to let him go, all the telltale signs of your impending orgasm. 

“vern–vernon, baby,” you gasp, back arching off the bed and heels of your feet digging into his back. “baby, ‘m-m gonna cum. keep fucking me like that,” you plead, eyebrows coming together in gratification. 

he obliges, snapping his hips against yours over and over till the tightrope in your tummy snaps. you come undone choking on a dry sob as your body seizes underneath his. you’re panting unevenly as you go lax, limp body weakly clinging to his as you attempt to come down from your high.

your orgasm is almost too much. too overstimulating for how high strung vernon is. he’s just about ready to explode, but he can’t bear to leave your spasming cunt. 

“baby, i— god, i-i know it’s not safe— fuck—“ he babbles, anxiously panting out his words. “i know… know it’s not safe—but let me cum in you, please. i want to fill you up.” 

you cry, nodding your head and weakly clamping around him at the thought of his warm seed flooding your cunt. “y-yes, fuck yes. please fill me up, ‘sollie!” 

he curses under his breath, his cock twitching and brain fogging over at your permission. he gives you a few sloppy thrusts before he groans noisily, stilling and spilling his cum inside of you. 

he twitches ceaselessly above you as his orgasm washes over him, head digging into the crook of your neck so he can drown out all of his throaty moans. they still echo throughout the room with your whiny pants. 

the sensation of his release has your entire body surging with warmth. it has you feeling nothing but bliss and pure exhilaration— you’re on cloud nine. 

“sorry,” he murmurs into your neck as his body collapses on top of yours. “couldn’t help it.”

your hand comes to thread through his hair, scratching at his head. “‘s okay, ‘sol.”  you mumble back. “felt really good. don’t worry.”

“do you need a plan b?”

you snort, shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so, baby. told you i’m on the pill now.” 

he lets out a breath— probably one of relief— followed by a muffled, “then… can we do this again soon?”

you smile, “yeah, babe, we can do this again soon.” 

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[iwoulddieforher]

Rigid | Casey Novak × Alex Cabot

Author's Note: This got super out of hand with the length- I think this is the longest fanfiction I've ever written. Hope you enjoy it, though <3 ~16k+ words

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff. I like the idea of Alex being neurodivergent in some way, even if she doesn't know it herself, so some of her self-descriptions will come off that way.

Summary: Alex wants desperately to be able to relax like she sees her colleagues doing, and a night watching a coworker she has her eye on- Casey Novak- might present itself as the opportunity to get what she wants.

Porcelain dolls strung up by small transparent strings were significantly less rigid than Alex Cabot currently felt. How she usually felt, even.

High-class family, posh preparatory school, strategically made connections rather than real relationships were all she grew up knowing. Everything had a meaning, a purpose, a reason for why it was so, and that also applied to every detail of her appearance and demeanor must similarly be intentional. She grew up internalizing that, and thus, as an adult she utterly lacked the ability to let her spine curve into a natural slump, to lay in bed without wondering what it would look like to a non-existent observer, to kiss someone in a way that focused on the intimacy rather than the shifted facade that she displayed in order to appear desirable.

It felt inhuman. She really hated it. The feeling she coped with daily made her skin crawl as if it was begging to be torn off to reveal a real person behind it instead of the ever-complicating mask.

It was especially noticeable to her on days like these, where a high-profile case had just been absolutely devoured by her colleague, Casey Novak, so the squad room was positively thrumming with excitement and a collective sense of triumph. Olivia, the one Alex had made a habit of perching herself by, was currently at the corner store to pick up a bottle of something to share, so the attorney was standing almost aimlessly against the brunette detective's desk. Across the desk was Stabler, in his respective chair, looking up at Casey who had chosen to place herself on the edge of his desk. Munch was in his rolly-chair, with Tutuola leaning over the back of it, Cragen standing stiffly but not uncomfortably near the commotion like a proud father.

"And that absolutely little weasel of a man-" Casey chirps, as much as a voice as low as hers could sound like a chirp, interrupted by a bark of laughter from Stabler, "Sorry, that boot-licking short ass bottom-feeding rodent-"

"Casey!" Stabler admonished, although his eyes were shining with amusement, and the faux blonde woman laughed and swatted at him half-heartedly.

"Yes, okay, I'll mind my manners. The defense counselor, before the trial, told me that because I'm pretty if I want after the duration of court he'll give me some tips on improving- and now I won, and when he was walking out, I managed to shoot him a smile and say 'if you want any tips, just call Novak at the DA's office'- I thought he was going to deck me right there-"

Casey's storytelling is rewarded with a roar of laughter from the men, her face shining with victory and the aftereffects of a battle well fought, and Alex can't help but find her beautiful. Casey Novak was anything but rigid, and Alex wished she was more like that- even if Casey's temper did get her in trouble more frequently than one would wish.

"Okay, well, don't let your victory get you all haughty, I'm still going to kick your ass tonight." Stabler snorts, after the laughter had died down, which sends Casey into a refreshed cascade of giggles.

"You? Kick my ass? Oh, you wish."

"Wait," Alex cuts in, everyone's eyes flickering to her as if they were slightly off guard that she was still following the conversation, "what's this about kicking each other's asses?"

"I'm going to hand Stabler his balls on the softball field tonight-" Casey starts before Stabler swings at her playfully and she gets distracted by shooting him a playful warning look. Alex forgot how much they acted like siblings sometimes, but the way they seemed to bounce off each other and banter so smoothly made them seem like twins. She could very easily imagine them in early teens kicking each other under a dining room table.

"Recently we've all started getting together to play softball together," Stabler interjects, granting Alex a serious response, "after big cases on the weekends we get together with some other cops and some other lawyers at night. Good way to blow off steam if justice isn't served or good way to celebrate if we do."

“It used to be a big thing, there were inter-department tournaments at the DA’s office or whatever, but now us who liked it so much just play for the hell of it, and also against the cops.” Casey nods, finally done with Stabler after managing to flick him in the middle of the forehead with her finger, which he glares at her for.

"And us who don't play softball get drunk while watching 'em." Munch says, leaning back in his swivel, with Tutuola adding a nod from just above him.

Alex bit her tongue, blinking in mild surprise. Back before she had 'died', they had gone to bars together to celebrate such things, and she didn't know any of them had really had any penchant for sports outside of Stabler occasionally mentioning his daughter's soccer or basketball results. She certainly had no clue Casey was apparently formidable enough on a softball field to hold on against a built detective such as Stabler.

"Speaking of drunk, I'm back." Olivia announces, strolling into the precinct once more, finding her way to stand beside Alex while cradling two bottles of some discounted wine, holding one up as evidence.

"Oh I got the worst fucking hangover from that shit-" Fin fires off immediately, who then gets silenced by a snort from Olivia, and the warm atmosphere is immediately resumed, Novak and Stabler beginning to chatter about proper swinging technique and which one of them was doing it wrong while Munch, Benson, and Tutuola start arguing over alcohol. Alex felt rather out of place.

Tone switching over to something light and banter-y was usually a bit difficult for her after grueling caseloads, and today especially she was just done. She didn't want to leave, though, she didn't want to be alone or god forbid find company with other stiff-necked attorneys to chat with hollow words about unnecessary topics, but involving herself in this easy exchange- especially since she wasn't entirely sure if she was invited- was hard.

"Oh, how about you join us, Alex?" Olivia suddenly exits her own argument to turn towards the blonde, her face soft the way it usually was when it came to her. "I know it's not your type of thing, probably, but it would be nice to have you there."

Her voice is earnest, and Alex had been wishing someone would invite her to accompany the drinkers, so although she entertained the puppy-eyes Benson made at her for a few seconds longer than necessary she did ultimately accept.

"Does this mean we can put bottles of something more worth drinking on Cabot's platinum card?" Munch mutters, pushing his dark glasses up the bridge of his nose, and Alex snorts.

"Tough luck, but if we go to a bar after I'll carry a round."

Olivia's head whips around and stares pointedly at Casey, firing off a quick, "No tequila," to which Casey makes the most indignant face Alex could possibly imagine on the copper-headed woman.

"Hey, that was not my fault- and also only once-" Casey defends, and Stabler starts laughing, slapping his fist on the table.

"Do you remember the whole thing with that-"

"Yes," Casey snaps, "I'm sure mostly everyone does, and if they don't then-"

"Casey, Alex wouldn't know." Olivia says lightly, elbowing the mentioned blonde, "Come on, Alex, aren't you curious? We should retell this for your sake, right?"

Alex's icy blue eyes met Casey's dense green ones, and she was momentarily indecisive. She wasn't friends with Novak, and she wasn't going to pretend that she was, as much as she enjoyed watching the copper-headed attorney play with the coworkers she was genuinely close to. She wanted to know, but as soon as she saw the guard up in Casey's posture, the way that Alex's rigid demeanor was mirrored immediately by the younger woman, she faltered.

Alex was stiff. Her spine was held to an excessively intentional angle. Even though to everyone else she seemed almost as natural as the rest of them, learned iron in her veins commanded her to be a degree of rigidness that came close to robotic. And Casey was the farthest thing from imperceptive.

In the courtroom, it was necessary to shoot the same metaphorical bullet as the one that had been fired at you, and Casey did nothing short, her vertebrae stacking above one another as she readjusted herself, jaw growing more firm, her eyes flickering to become hard and sharp in a way that would almost seem predatory had it not been for Alex's recognition that this was entirely procedural for the younger attorney. Alex knew in her head too that if she was interacting with someone else like this, she'd have done the same thing.

Lawyers had a way of exchanging thoughts without verbalization, and Casey and Alex were currently having an odd back-and-forth that happened within a fraction of a second completely unbeknownst to the rest of the room. Casey registered the swirl of thoughts in Alex's mind and her inability to formulate a response in time to seem natural, and with the ball in her court, decided to give the blonde attorney an out.

"Okay, fine," she huffed, as though she was actually unwilling to share, despite the fact she was fully aware Alex would not have moved to force her to and she could easily tamp down or distract the eager detectives, "long story short, Olivia and I started fighting, and she made a jab about me no longer being white collar's youth prodigy, so I tried.. to prove how youthful I still was- er, still am."

Alex wrinkled the tip of her nose, pursing her lips to stop from laughing at that, and Casey twitched an eyebrow jokingly before shaking her head.

As soon as her head turned, the copper-headed attorney decided to release the inelastic facade she had just momentarily constructed, leaning backward once more. To the eye of the others, nothing that demanded the level of thought that had just been executed had come close to occurring.

The older attorney wasn't entirely sure how to reward Casey for her kindness in that exchange, but she felt like she should. She made a mental note that she owed Casey something- perhaps if the copper-headed woman snarked at her sometime in the future, she'd let it go without question, or some similar social grace. Her uncle has drilled in the 'advice' that one never forgets what they owe another, lest suddenly be surprised when the other expects to collect.

"She ended up kissing this random blonde woman who was going through a divorce." Munch supplied helpfully, who earned a glare from Casey in return, and the seconds returned to passing at a more natural rate rather than the slowed pace Alex had just felt like they moved in. The conversation was resumed.

"No, the bad part wasn't even that she made out with her, but the fact her flirting consisted entirely of legal jargon-" Olivia filled in, and Alex snorted softly as Casey's head whipped in the other direction to glare at her instead.

"Okay, okay, listen- first of all, she was not a random woman, her name was Jane and we did keep in contact for the duration of her vacation here-" Casey raised a finger, cutting Liv off, "and if you understood any sort of vocabulary past fifth grade, it would have made perfect sense to you."

Alex paused, deciding this was probably a point at which a response was required to reestablish her presence so she could stop relying on Olivia to make her involved, "Well, it does seem like a- ... youthful thing to do?"

Casey's jaw fell slightly agape, and then she closed it with a huff. "Okay, well. Olivia's just pissed because I can actually involve myself with women."

"I'm not gay!" The brunette protested indignantly, to which Casey and Elliot exchanged a look that read as what-is-she-on.

Olivia was silenced for a moment, bristling, before extending her arm to rest on Alex's. "Alex, help me out, us straight girls need to stick together with all this-"

"Straight?" Alex questioned, an uncomfortable chuckle in her throat, "Olivia, you didn't know I'm-?"

"What?!" Olivia cried, straightening immediately, not affronted but apparently incredibly surprised, which Alex internally sighed at, only to be distracted by a low whistle from Casey that she decided not to respond to.

Internally, Alex was grappling with the new information that Casey was sapphic. She was too, although she understood why Liv hadn't known, she wasn't super forthright with her identity- but Casey?

After a moment's contemplation, she realized that this actually made a lot of sense and she felt mildly stupid for not having realized on her own.

"Yeah," Stabler says after a pause, "I think this is our cue to get going to the softball diamond before Liv has her whole am-i-gay breakdown right here in the squad room."

The rag-tag group collectively nods, shuffling for possessions, with Olivia still apparently on edge and lost in an internal conversation with herself about the possibility of homosexuality. After a few more moments of collecting items or putting things into respective places, and after Casey pats Olivia sympathetically on the shoulder, they begin to head out to the parking lot.

Alex clicked the key to her Cadillac, briefly pausing to obtain the address of the sports place as well as a time, since a few people wanted to drop by home to discard professional belongings or change, and because a few members of the DA's teams were still in session, before studying the exits of her colleagues.

Tutuola and Munch separate to respective vehicles, with Olivia being given a ride by Stabler as usual, and Casey splitting off from the group entirely to unlock her bike. Cragen excuses himself with the explanation that he's not going to meet up with the rest of them, he doesn't play softball nor does he drink so he's spending a nice night in instead.

Everyone's method of transportation seemed in some way reflective of themselves. Munch's windows were so tinted Alex was vaguely concerned about the potential illegality of it and Fin's car is beat up in a way that shows he doesn't abide by the physics of curbs. Olivia and Elliot's carpooling constantly served as a testament to their bond as detectives, and Casey...

"I still can't believe you actually bike here every morning. While wearing the suit? Jesus." Stabler bantered, leaning on the hood of his own car while watching Casey fumble with the lock on her bike.

"Well," she replied in a curt rasp, straightening, "that's why my legs are toned and yours would snap under water pressure-" she stopped to point at him almost accusingly, "and don't get me started on cardiovascular health."

Olivia drags Elliot into his car before the two start bickering again, and that leaves Alex watching Casey out of the corner of her eye as the attorney fixes her bike locks to the luggage rack before swinging one leg over the seat and taking off, her chin nestled in her scarf, her mid-length hair swirling behind her.

For a second too long, she lingers, but then Alex climbs into her cold car, groaning slightly at the feeling of the stiff leather on her back, before driving without picking out a destination. She didn't have anything she felt uncomfortable leaving in her car, nor did she have anything to pick up, so going to her penthouse was somewhat pointless. However, with about an hour until the designated time, staring out the window at the city streets far below seemed more interesting than staring at said streets on the ground level while seated aimlessly in her car, so she went home.

The elevator opened directly into her apartment, so she needed to use her key in the elevator pad itself, and when she did and the doors opened she dropped her briefcase right next to the door- it fell exactly the same way it would've if she had intentionally placed it, which makes her mildly irritated.

She didn't bother to kick off her shoes, placing herself on the couch in her apartment, and staring blankly at the wall. Her spine was straight, her legs angled to the side in the way her mother had taught her to make them look longer, her hands folded in her lap. Her apartment felt desolate. Her skin crawled.

She tried to focus on something- anything, really, in her apartment- but all she was met with was cold, smooth marble that her eyes slid off of. Plaquettes held her accomplishments that suddenly felt utterly pointless, framed pictures of her family or college friends that seemed impersonal. She couldn't keep a plant alive and she had never actually gone decor shopping herself, so the place was devoid of color, only shades of grey.

Alex groaned and placed her hands over her eyes under her glasses, tilting her spine backward until it hit the back of the sofa. It felt wrong, everything felt wrong, and her skin felt like it was crawling, her bones turning and burning inside her like she imagined cement would feel. It was uncomfortable in a way that wasn't painful- but that didn't stop her from fixating on the discomfort immensely.

The attorney rolled to the side, swinging her heels up onto the couch, one hand cradling her head and the other reaching to tug off her glasses. Strangely, in the dim blue lighting of the sun setting behind heavy clouds, her mind shifted to the opposite of said cold color- it landed on the shade of Casey's hair.

In the DA's office or in court when they crossed paths, Casey was stiff in the way every lawyer Alex had ever encountered was. The degree of rigidness that was learned by years of constant practice of saying and acting exclusively in intentional ways. Still, though, her eyes were always warm, in a way lawyer's eyes seldom were. But when she relaxed, which she was able to do, unlike Alex, she was simultaneously the same and also a completely different person.

She'd be lying to say she didn't know Casey was athletic- despite her unaware that she played softball, or was to any degree interested in her own physique the way her exchanges with Stabler today suggested- Alex had let her eyes linger on the other woman's arms on occasion in warmer environments when the redhead rolled her sleeves up. Her mind constructed the image of running her finger along the toned curve of her forearm, up her arm, and towards the delicate curve of her neck. In her imagination, Casey's skin was warm, and it only warmed further at Alex's motion. When she met Casey's olive-colored eyes, she was already looking back at her, eyes only half-lidded.

She felt her own cheek flush in her palm, and she sat up, shaking off the thought, but the sensation of warmth in her cheeks and the imagined feeling in the pad of her fingertip was enough to pull her off the couch, to the bathroom, where she took off the makeup she had done for court, tugging her suit jacket off, fumbling off her belt.

She wanted out of the porcelain, out of her skin for a night. She had seen the way Casey's guard had flickered up when she had faced her in the squad room, holding a mirror to the rigid body across from her, and she wanted out. The solution to that was to try to force the stiffness out of her soul so Casey wouldn't have any such thing to mirror. She had a reputation to uphold with the rest of the squad, with Liv and with Stabler, but Casey was more perceptive than Liv was- at least when it came to her- and she felt as though she knew enough to play it safe while still getting what she wanted. It would be an issue if Liv or Stabler or any of the other detectives or such lost respect for her professional standing. She was diligent, and hardworking, and she valued that about herself immensely, and she was not about to make the mistake of letting that persona fumble for a night’s activity. But still, she wanted a night where her skin felt like it belonged to her. If Casey's eyes didn't harden when she looked at her, maybe that would be close enough.

Her formal attire was replaced quickly, boot cut jeans instead of her slacks and although she didn't remove her white blouse she layered it with a loose sweater. She ran her fingers through her hair, intentionally messing with it, before nodding with satisfaction at her now slightly more casual appearance. The collar of her blouse sticking up through the neckline of her sweater was enough to not shift the persona the detectives identified with her, but she decided it was enough. It was enough that her uncle would click his tongue at her for wearing jeans while around a colleague.

She then proceeded to sit almost aimlessly on her couch again, drumming her fingers on her lap while waiting for the time to elapse so she could go to the softball field without being the first one there. In her mind, she debated writing up some notes or preparing for a case in the coming week, but she knew if she went back into lawyer mode it would just be worse trying to shake it off again. Unfortunately for her, as a kid all her hobbies were dictated- fencing, equestrian, ballroom dance and such, and since she never really grew attached to any of them and then failed to procure a hobby or pastime in her adult life, she didn't have much else to do.

Her phone chimed and she picked it up, assuming it would be something idle or law-related, only to find a text from a number she recognized, her heart thrumming insistently when it realized whose message she was currently reading.

Casey Novak→ Hello Alex, this is Casey (Novak, the one you work with, in case you know another)

Casey Novak→ Apologies for jumping this on you, but any chance we could carpool tonight? My bike is having a technical issue I can't be bothered with fixing it currently.

She waited a couple seconds before answering with,

← Seems doable. Send me your address?

Casey responded to that within a minute and Alex exhaled, mentally registering where that was, before standing up. With the detour of picking up Casey as well as the fact it doesn't really matter if she's early now because she's accompanying a player, she feels soothed to leave soon.

← Would you find it alright if I came in about a half hour?

Casey Novak→ More than alright, you have my thanks

← I'm more than happy to help.

After a pause, the message goes on read, and Alex doesn't really know what she had expected as a response. Mildly discontented, she put her phone down.

If she wasn't about to be driving, she would drink a glass of wine, but alas that was quite literally the point so she could not indulge herself. She pondered briefly the logistics of getting drunk when she was at the softball diamond, but worst comes to worst she’d just have to taxi. And, she supposed, would have to take Casey also in said taxi.

She felt her jaw grow a bit firmer at the constant resurfacing of Casey Novak in the back of her mind. Alright, sure, now they actually had plans and she was picking her up, so it made sense. But still. It wasn't exactly unlike her to develop random infatuations, desires to knock people she admired and simultaneously was irritated by down a peg, god knows the mistake with Jim Steele- but… Casey seemed… different.

Her heart muttered that Casey seemed warm and alive and her skin seemed soft and she was entirely unlike anyone Alex had ever grown attached to, Casey was not a power play, Casey was not a mind game. Casey was Casey. Alex didn't really understand what that meant.

She clicked her tongue to herself and then decided that no, she would not pursue anything with Casey. She had been toying with the idea of making that dream of tracing up Casey’s forearms with her fingertips a reality, perhaps as a flirty joke she could pass off as drunken boldness. But now her heart started to fumble in her chest at the thought, and not only in a good way. She wasn't exactly sure why her mind was suddenly reeled in the polar opposite direction of what she had been fantasizing about only a couple of minutes ago, but now she felt mildly stressed. Her skin crept little patterns on her nerves like ants blacking out a lamp, eating through power cords.

Maybe the fact she didn't really understand Casey is what sent little alarm bells ringing in her mind. To pursue meant to trust and to trust meant she had to know it all. She felt like she knew essentially nothing.

Sometimes Alex really wished she was less self-aware. She analyzed every thought or feeling she had like it was someone else’s, and therefore frequently felt as though she was drowning in someone else’s brain when in reality she was still sitting on her couch in her apartment in her clothes in her- supposedly her- skin.

It was time to leave now, anyway, so she cut herself off from her own train of thoughts to stand, and collect some items in one of her more used purses in case alcohol was split, it got snatched, or some other random misfortune that may occur to a handbag. Once she was pleased with her level of preparation she double-checked the contents one last time- car keys, one of her more mildly used wallets, phone, power bank, medical emergency kit, a notepad, a block of sticky notes, her pager, and a pen. She pulled a scarf on as an afterthought, not entirely sure if the temperature would drop as it got dark out but decided not to take that risk.

With that, she left her penthouse, standing stiffly in the elevator on the way down, staring at herself in the reflective wall the metal box had. Hmm.

Within twenty minutes, and exactly on time to the thirty minutes she had offered Casey earlier, she was parked on the street outside Casey’s address, looking up at a rather elegant brownstone. Sometimes she mused to herself that the modern aesthetic of her apartment complex far outranked the sort of shabby, oftentimes falling apart older buildings, but this seemed.. it seemed vaguely Elysian. She approved of it.

← I’m outside

Casey Novak → I’m sorry, I’m running a little late. Would you like to come up? I’ll buzz you in.

← I can wait in my car, I don't want to intrude.

Casey Novak → I’ll feel better if you just come on in. I’m inviting you. Please.

Alex blinked at that message, slowly typing out,

← Okay, then. If you're sure.

She exited her car with a furrow in her brow, locking the vehicle, and then continuing the steps up to the doorbell placard, where she found Novak’s name printed in a thin, flat font. She pressed the small silver button next to it, making a mental note of the floor and roughly which door it should be based on doorbell placement. A startling buzzing sound went off that Alex was thankfully prepared for, and she pushed open the frankly unnecessary large wood door. She traveled up the steps, to the third floor, deciding that she should start exercising more often if going up only three floors already had her inhaling a bit sharper, and she didn't need to wander reading the names next to the ringers because Casey’s door was open ajar and she was peeking her eye through the crack.

Alex caught a glimpse of Casey’s smile through the small opening, before the copper-headed woman disappeared in a flash, waving Alex in. She did as instructed, closing the door behind her tentatively. Immediately, she could not see Casey in her own apartment.

“Sorry,” the woman called, “I decided I wanted to shower beforehand so I need to straighten my hair again. That's why it's taking me a minute. Just sit down wherever you like, I’ll be done in just a second.”

“You straighten your hair?” Alex asked curiously, standing awkwardly in the foyer. Although Casey had instructed her to sit, she couldn't imagine pulling a chair out anywhere or settling herself on the younger attorney’s couch.

Inhaling deeply, she resigned to studying Casey's apartment interior with interest.

The interior walls were a smooth ivory, the floorboards a dark wood that matched the accents- the window and door frames, the stairs. Casey’s apartment was a lot more vertical than her own- where Alex had half of a floor, so her apartment was wide horizontally as well as deep, the walls were only a couple of feet on each side in the entry hallway and Alex couldn't imagine the rooms being, well, anywhere as large as her’s. But somehow, the comparison did not change the charm of the apartment.

Perhaps that had something to do with the atmosphere. It smelled like sandalwood and caramel, and the walls were lined with memorabilia- which Alex considered briefly was strange, because Casey's desk and office were almost barren considering some of the other workstations she had seen. She skimmed over smiling faces, Casey with dozens of people she’d see in this photo and never again. Casey with a little girl propped up on her hip, holding a little boy by the hand on a beach, all three smiling at the camera, but in a way that made it seem like it was almost unintentional, like someone had captured a moment in a camera which usually only existed in fond memory. Casey kissing a man with short brown hair, her arms, which seemed slightly thinner in the photo than Alex had grown to know them, (although the woman was always slim,) wrapping around his shoulders. She looked younger, happy, smiling into the kiss, and he did too. Probably during college, Alex mused. Casey’s finger, resting lovingly on his shoulder, was adorned with a silver band. Alex blinked.

She chided herself to move on with her inspection. Whoever this person was, it didn't seem like they were still in her life, unless Casey had been cheating on him with ‘Jane’. Stabler didn't take well to cheaters, so Alex really doubted that. She wasn't sure what the thrum of her heart was meant for- so she just exhaled. She couldn't drag her eyes away from it, though.

When she inhaled again, she was greeted with the scent of whatever hair products Casey was currently employing. It dragged her out of her thoughts, and it made her twinge with guilt at the thought of analyzing Casey’s history through her personal pictures. Casey was kind enough to be undeserving of an inspection.

There was no door between the foyer and the kitchen, so Alex turned to focus on that instead, her blue eyes skimming over what appeared to be a sourdough starter. Music played quietly out of some surround sound speaker, somewhere, something idle, and indie.

The dark brown of the floor was complimented well by the constant appearance of plants- not flowers, but succulents or similar. Apparently, Casey was in the middle of repotting one, because the table had a large tray with items that would suggest that.

“Oh, sorry about that-” Casey mused, appearing suddenly next to her, “I was trying to swap out pots for that one- roots were getting too big, you know, but then I got buzzed for a warrant this morning and dropped it.”

She smelled really good, and Alex wasn't happy that that was the first thing she noticed, but she did. Casey’s perfume, which Alex had noted a couple of times in the DA’s office, had just been freshly reapplied, and her hair was perfect in a way that only lasted a couple of moments after styling it. She looked in a way that Alex could only describe as warm.

Casey was dressed in a blue softball jersey that had ‘Sex Crimes’ bolded on the front in a lacy font and tracksuit pants. The usual frustration carried in her eyes and eyebrows was gone entirely, replaced with lights of excitement that showed in the way she held her hands and smiled. She wasn't wearing any makeup, only a dark lip balm that Alex now wanted to know the brand of.

“And yes,” Casey said, replying to Alex’s comment from a moment ago, despite it having felt like an eternity since then to Alex, “I do have to straighten my hair. Not all of us can be blessed with locks like yours, Miss Cabot.”

Ignoring the teasing nature of her voice as she said Alex’s more formal name, the blonde still lifted her eyebrows as if pained and shot her a look. “Please never call me ‘Miss Cabot' again- It’s just Alex to you.”

“Alright, ‘just Alex’-” Casey said, with an amused huff, before turning and waving at her abode, “verdict? You seemed interested.”

“I-” Alex pursed her lips. Casey was not stupid. If she hadn't been interested, she would've sat down like Casey had initially instructed or been on her phone, or been staring off into space. “I like it. You have a very lovely apartment. It suits you.”

“Thank you.” Casey smiles, pleased, before glancing back down at the houseplant activity. “It would feel better if I had gotten to finish this, though. My mom insists I keep them all.”

“Why?”

“You know how in law school, you’d stay shut in all the time, sleep at horrible hours, and keep the blinds drawn? She bought me a million plants and kept making me show her they were still alive to make sure I was airing my dorm and letting sunlight in. And that I was looking up from my laptop at least for a minute a day.” Casey snorts, but she seems fond of my memory. “I guess she doesn't really insist I keep them anymore. She hasn't checked, anyway. But I got used to it. I swapped out her delicate plants for succulents, though, because I forget to water them sometimes. I’m not here very much.”

“Your mother seems like an attentive woman,” Alex comments, watching as Casey’s eyes grow momentarily heavy, staring still at the plant, before she blinked it off.

“I’ve been blessed,” she answers smoothly instead, “with a wonderful family.”

There's an awkward beat of hesitation, where neither knows what to say, before Casey exhales and forces a smile. “Have you eaten anything? If you're going to drink with Tutuola, you probably need something to eat. And I need to grab my gear and such. If we leave now, we’d still be significantly early.”

“I had breakfast-” Alex starts, before seeing Casey raise an eyebrow at her, “but it was a large one, Casey, I’m not trying to tear up your kitchen.”

“Sweet or savory?” Was the other woman’s only response as she strolled into her kitchen, opening cabinets and ruffling through items.

“I don't have the time to make you something properly right now, but God help it if I let you leave here without eating something.”

Alex stood uncomfortably in the doorway to the kitchen, a small unsure frown on her face, so Casey shot her a pointed look, walked over, grabbed her arm, lightly guided and then shoved her into a chair, and then went back to trying to find something to offer her.

“You seem,” Casey looked at her as if studying her brain through her skull, “as though you’d have a sweet tooth.”

“Why do you say that?” Alex looked at her, slightly indignant. Outside of being used as a method of intimidation, it was normally rude to brazenly note observations as such in the world she was used to. It was far more polite to make it sound as though it was a question.

But Casey just laughed softly, pulling a box out of the fridge and popping the lid. She fumbled with the contents for a few seconds. In the chair Casey had set her down in, Alex could not see what it was until Casey approached, holding a dessert fork in one hand with her other carrying a plate with a generous portion of red velvet cake.

“Fancy ass cake for a fancy ass lady. I made this yesterday, so I think it's still fine to serve you, even if the frosting set a bit more than I prefer. You don't have to eat it all, but I hope you at least try it.”

With that, and not even waiting for a thank you, Casey brushed past, going to collect her sports gear. Alex felt like her head was spinning slightly with the lack of normal procedure. She was being left alone to eat cake in Casey’s apartment? Wasn't the redhead worried she would- well, Casey had commented on the fact she knew Alex was borderline snooping, but to leave her alone after that? How trusting was she? Unless this was some sort of test.

Alex decided to proceed as if it were. What would Casey be testing? How much Alex trusted her? Maybe she thought Alex wouldn't eat food a stranger gave her, well- not entirely stranger, but still. But she couldn't fault her for that, could she? Regardless, Alex wasn't like that anyway. Maybe she was testing if Alex was too prudish to eat what she had provided. That sent a small jolt down her spine- she really didn't want Casey to think she was a snob- so she lifted the fork and in small, precise movements separated a small piece from the slice.

As soon as she felt it on her tongue, she immediately broke off a much larger portion to follow it with. Fuck. It was delicious.

Soft vanilla cream coated somehow equally soft red velvet generously, but not overwhelmingly, and once Alex separated off the middle she could see it was triple layered. The flavor was delicate, but in a way that made every taste bud in her mouth moan.

If she had to go celibate for the rest of her life to eat something like this again, she just might have to consider that. This was better than sex.

“Grandmother’s recipe,” Casey purred, reappearing with a large duffel slung over her shoulder, leaning in the doorway. “Well, not really, but it was one of the first things she made after she got access to the Internet and all the baking blogs one can find on there.”

Alex was physically startled, too engrossed in her eating to have realized Casey’s presence had reappeared. Casey easily could have murdered her while she was eating cake, and she wouldn't have looked up once.

She pushed the plate as if making to stand up, holding a hand in front of her mouth as her mother had taught her- it was impolite to see people see one chew, after all- but Casey shook her head quickly and took a seat next to her, leaning back, the duffel hitting the floor with a soft thud while Casey stretched out her arms, arched her spine languidly. Alex tried not to let her eyes linger on the soft amount of muscle coating her.

“By all means, I don't mean to interrupt your indulgence.”

Alex sheepishly turned back, pausing only for a fraction of a second before returning to shoveling the cake into her mouth as gracefully as she could. Casey looked very pleased, so that settled her nerves by a fraction. She couldn't and also wouldn't complain about Casey's bemused grin.

“It's- it’s just been a while since I’ve eaten anything this good.” Alex said after a swallow, straightening in her chair a little bit, looking at the remaining bites on her plate as if they were whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

“You look good like this,” Casey said, which Alex’s eyes widened at, blinking up from the cake to Casey, who strangely looked equally delicious, “you're normally so tense. Glad my baking can fix that.”

“I- uhm,”

Casey chuckled at Alex’s fluster, resting her head in her hand. “Just teasing you. But really, I am glad you're enjoying it.”

“How did you learn to bake like this?” Alex murmured, decided to switch tracks since she wasn't very sure what was happening.

The copper-headed woman only shrugged. “You learn in a family as large as mine. I mean, if both of my parents were busy, I’m not about to let all the younger ones go hungry because the older one decided to order something only for herself. And now all my nieces and nephews demand I make them sugary shit when I’m over, so my pastries are decent enough.”

In the back of her mind, Alex was now a bit upset that she couldn't cook. Casey’s reasoning that it was due to her family made sense, but it also twinged Alex’s mind that if her parents were busy and she had nothing to eat, they'd just call for the private chef to come up and make her something nutritious enough. When she was in college, on her allowance, she had just kept ordering delivery. Casey and her seemed to contrast each other notably in that way.

“How many siblings, if I may ask?”

“Four. I have an older sister, and then there was me, and then two twin brothers and my baby sister. Not that she’s much of a baby anymore- she graduated college last year- but still. She'll always be little to me.” Casey exhaled, evidently very fond, before glancing back up. “And you, Alex?”

“I’m- I’m an only child.” Alex said, after a second, and before she could stop herself, “they needed an heir.”

Casey paused, looking up at her thoughtfully, before nodding. “I wished I was an only child a lot growing up. It's different now that I have my own life and everything, but… mm. Families are complicated.”

Alex nodded sagely at that, finally finishing her cake, and then after a small pause asked, “Did you want your own?”

The second she said it, she felt like it was wrong. It was an intrusion, and she was already in Casey’s apartment in Casey’s chair eating Casey's food with Casey's utensils. She was overstepping everything, and she was asking something from Casey she could not possibly believe she was entitled to knowing, without giving her an out.

Casey froze, her eyes icing over. She stared at Alex for a long moment, who now was sure she had done something horribly wrong, but then Casey’s eyes shifted from blank shock to mildly upset.

“Sorry- yes, I did. It didn't work out that way.”

Alex swallowed, and realized this was a decisive moment. She had relaxed, and she had slipped up, and now Casey was rigid, and if she bounced back off of Casey and tensed, she’d never get what she wanted.

So then, biting back her nature and what she was taught to say in such situations, she said softly, “It didn't for me, either.”

The atmosphere shifted entirely, so much it seemed like the colors had changed spectrum. Alex was now used to how fast her colleague could run through emotions and facades, and although that familiarity was from the courtroom, Casey’s demeanor now changing into something almost like solidarity reminded her a lot of it. Casey dropped her momentary coldness as fast as Alex could put down her form, but unlike when Alex changed the face she wore in order to elicit the response she wanted, Casey seemed like she genuinely just had a change of emotion.

“You're still young, Casey,” Alex continued, encouraged by the attorney’s return to warmth, “it’ll happen.”

“Oh, please. Alex. You’re what- two years older than me?” Casey chided, her voice light. “And you're hot as hell, so I’m sure you have suitors.”

“Casey, have you looked in a mirror recently? If I have suitors, you must have a line from here to the DA’s office.”

“Oh, you charmer.” Casey scoffed, but Alex meant it. She slid her hand underneath the now empty plate, bringing it to the kitchen, before picking up her duffel once more. “And now you get to be my driver.”

“I’m honored,” Alex smoothly joked back, collecting her purse and standing up.

She glanced around Casey’s kitchen, then glanced around the foyer, one last time before she followed the redhead out of her apartment. She noted the shift of atmosphere the second she stepped over the doorstep, and internally found herself hoping it wasn’t the last time she was there.

A more sensible part of her brain reminded her just now that she had decided against pursuing Casey, so such thoughts were not worth lingering on. Another part of her brain indignantly riled that she could enter someone’s apartment without any sort of connotation. A third part of her brain wanted to reexamine the circumstances of the decision to blacklist Casey from the possible companion category, while a third sighed loudly and wished they would all shut up. A fourth part snarled that she was not going to allow herself to be vulnerable with this enigma- yes, despite her niceness and her willingness to provide her with cake she still didn't have any grasp on Casey's psyche, so that's what she was- until she had enough to cover her ass if something went wrong. A fifth part just wanted to see Casey smile at her in the kitchen like that again. The fifth part managed to distract most of the others with daydreams.

Casey understood that Alex was in thoughts, so she did nothing to compel a response, although Alex was sure she thought she was musing about family or law or such.

Nothing was said until they reached the front door of the building, which Casey opened and offered, and then resigned to follow Alex to where she had parked. She gave a low appreciative whistle when she climbed into the front passenger seat tugging her duffel down and into the legroom.

“Fuck. I knew from the outside you had a nice car, but… jesus christ, Alex.”

“What? Oh.” Alex glanced behind her as if only just now registering that. It was a nice car. Her Cadillac had been a birthday present from her uncle, especially because her Bentley was sold off after her death. “I- thank you. Well, only the best for you, right? Now that I’m your cabbie.”

She was rather pleased with the hints of a surprised blush forming on Casey's cheekbones. If Casey kept throwing out random compliments at her, she should return that, right?

“It's just because of my bike-…”

“Please. You’re so quick to dish out the teases until I do so?” Alex hummed, amused, and Casey only huffed in response, pointedly looking forward.

Alex set the softball arena as her navigation’s destination, and allows Casey on aux, the same melodious background sound filling the car speakers as they begin on their way. Being the driver is good. If she was the passenger, she’d be darting her eyes too constantly to look at Casey. Casey apparently does not have this struggle.

“So tell me, honestly,” Alex starts, to fill the silence with a topic she knows Casey will yap over, “between you and Stabler, who has the better swing?”

“Me,” Casey says, with absolutely no question in her voice. “Elliot is good- but he’s too used to his job. In softball, most of the swing is supposed to come from the rotation of the shoulders, not the movement of the arm. Elliot relies so much on the idea of punching he doesn't really get that. He tries to push his palms forward and pushes one shoulder down. Besides, I’ve been playing softball for a much longer time than him.”

“How long?” Alex asked, glancing over at her in the passenger seat. Casey was so forthcoming with information- well, yes, Alex had asked, but…

“Since my sophomore year of high school,” Casey answered, “There was this fight involving one of my little brothers and I- well, that's beside the point. Regardless, the coach took me aside the next day, said he’d never seen someone swing like that, and asked me to try out. I did, and that was that.”

Alex let out an exhale that felt like a soft laugh, so Casey quipped in response, “Have you ever played any sports?”

“Fencing,” Alex offered, “and equestrian, for a little.”

“Equestrian?” Casey perked up, “Wow, that's amazing. I’ve always wanted to try riding a horse.”

“I didn't really enjoy it much-” Alex looked over again, and she realized that was a mistake, because Casey was looking at her with such interest in her eyes that Alex felt as though she needed to run for the hills. “I- I… it just wasn't for me.”

“Why not? If I can ask.”

“My instructors had to scold me constantly for being too stiff,” Alex murmured, trying to make it sound lighthearted despite to some degree admitting the biggest self-struggle she had, “when you're on a horse, the horse has to be an extension of you, the same way when you hold a bat- actually, I’m not entirely sure of that, I’ve never played a ball-sport, but- when the muscles of the horse move, you need to adapt and move with it. Otherwise, the horse becomes vexed.”

“So young Alexandra was just being a vex to horses?” Casey chuckled, and Alex tilted her head at the jest.

“But if you tell anyone, they’d never believe you.”

“Oh trust me,” Casey snorted, “I’m not about to let other people know about baby Alex being a thorn in some training horse’s side. That’s something only I get to know.”

“Hey. You just used the adjective ‘young’, and now ‘baby’- am I regressing? And I was more a pain in their back rather than side, unless I very immensely misunderstood where you're supposed to ride horses.”

In reality, the small thrum in her heart that she now associated with the younger attorney was very pleased with the information Casey apparently felt territorial on information regarding her. She couldn't describe to herself why that made her happy, but it did.

“Sigh. ADAs and their technicalities,” Casey shook her head, “and no, I could never accuse you of regression. You only ascend.”

“Good. Quick study, Casey.” Alex purred, the words a bit too soft and a bit too smooth, although she hadn't really thought about it that way until she saw Casey shift and decided she was very pleased she had said it.

It was Casey’s turn to fall into a blushed silence, her eyes fixing suddenly very straight on the road, as if she had never seen New York City before. Alex felt victorious, and she basked in that feeling.

They arrived at the softball field shortly, and as soon as they pulled over in the dirt parking lot and Casey stepped out of the vehicle with her duffel she was essentially jumped by a collection of random people Alex believed she probably had seen previously in the DA’s office- other ADAs, a couple interns. They surrounded Casey eagerly, spouting game talk- apparently feeding Alex cake had delayed her arrival, and she was the last one, so they had been waiting for it. The copper-headed woman gave her an apologetic wave over the shoulder as she was yanked off, and Alex felt uncomfortable. She tried not to feel as though she had just been shunned. If she had spent less time in her intern years sucking up and networking with her uncle and her uncle’s friends, perhaps she would know some of them. Her career was jump-started, she did not have the bond the others seemed to share of watching each other pull themselves up the ladder- despite knowing logically some of them must have also come from nepotism, at least to some degree.

The softball field was fenced in by wired mesh, and ‘softball field’ was really the only way she could describe it, because it was nothing else. There were a couple of bleachers that reminded her of a cheap high school movie- her school had definitely never had anything like that- but otherwise, it was just a meshed-in square in the middle of a flat field, with a large brick box-like building on the side. She spotted Munch already seated on said bleacher, though, and although she didn't know him as well as she knew Olivia, who her mind had been looking for initially, she wandered over.

“Hey,” he greeted her on arrival, motioning to the place next to him, which she tentatively sat down on after her eyes skimmed it to ensure there wasn't a layer of filth (there was, but she ignored it) “Liv's trying to hype up Elliot. He really wants to get Casey back for the last match.”

“What happened in the last match?” Alex muttered, not especially interested but aware she was required to continue the conversation, inspecting the floor of the bleachers for a place to put her purse. She decided directly beneath her was probably the cleanest.

“She- well, nothing exactly. She’s just ridiculously good. Not many of the DA team have her skill, but so long as she’s there she continuously wipes the floor with ‘em. MVP, easy.”

Munch turns to her, almost accusingly. “Oh, you're rooting for that team, aren't you?”

Alex considered that for a moment, then, “I’m rooting for Casey.”

“But, team-wise, you're on our side?”

“I’m just rooting for Casey.”

Well, we had the whole gay talk in the squad room earlier, so-”

“Careful,” Alex chided, cutting him off with a harsh look in her marble blue eyes, “your boyfriend is here.”

Munch looked over with confusion, then saw Tutuola walking towards them, and shot Alex back a glare through his dark glasses. As if on cue, Olivia materialized and plopped herself down next to Alex, handing her a flask and wiping her mouth with the back of her palm indicative of the fact she had just taken a swallow. “El has been given the best pep talk I physically know how to give. If he doesn't win, I’m done showing up to these.”

“Alex is rooting for the enemy while drinking our alcohol,” John fired, but Alex turned to him and, apparently intimidated, he visibly backed off. Olivia just laughed.

Alex took a swig from Olivia’s flask, grimacing at the feeling of vodka burning down her throat, but she took a second swig almost immediately. She already felt uncomfortable, skin prickling and writhing, and being drunk would make it better.

The game began with little issue, and Casey had meant it when she said it wasn't a real tournament so much so as a large group of very competitive friends being cheered on by a large group of friendly drinkers.

She was bored until Casey took the batter’s stand. Alex had absolutely no clue how softball was played, but Casey looked perfect.

It was probably the alcohol talking. Between her and Olivia, they had made quick work of the flask, Liv because she had started to become anxious on Stabler’s behalf, and Alex because she was double-thinking her decision to show up. But if she hadn't shown up, she never would've gone to Casey’s, she never would've gotten that cake and she never would've seen the younger woman's reaction to being told she was good.

And God, Casey was good. Alex watched her sprint, the way she swung so relaxed but so intentionally, completely in her element. It was dark other than the stadium lights, which definitely were not up to standard, but when Alex caught a glimpse of Casey's eyes she could see very clearly the glint of fierce determination.

John Munch had been very correct that the DA’s team- Casey’s teammates, were not comparable to the copper-blonde’s skill. But to that matter, neither were most of the detectives. Alex noted the reality in the way that Stabler swung as if he was trying to hook something instead of swinging a bat- Casey was right- but he still did fairly well.

Not well enough to keep up with Casey.

Every time she hit the ball with a heavy ‘thwack’ that reverberated in Alex’s spine, every time she started darting, long legs stretching out to slide the last meter, the furrow in her brow, the light reflecting off her hair. Alex felt positively dizzy. That last part could very well be from Olivia’s vodka- or so she reminded herself.

She had tied her hair into a bun- Alex mused to herself it was unnecessary for her to have straightened it, then- but it bounced as she walked up to take- no, own the stand. Her lips were pressed into that thin line she made when she was concentrating in the courtroom and was similarly undeniably attractive here, except the corners of her mouth tugged up in a fierce smile. Her movements were fluid and Alex decided that if she would've done well in equestrian, with the way she moved- her intensity was elegant, her movements as refined as a swimmer’s. Alex felt her chest tighten and her heart pounding as she watched, feeling almost greedy for more sight of Casey.

Other than her, she was displeased with essentially everything else. The people next to her were becoming progressively more drunk and more rowdy, cheering and applauding and calling out encouragement or jests to active players, who would yell incoherently back at them. The bleachers had grit stuck in the groves in the aluminum and she mused to herself she’d need to get the pants she was wearing cleaned.

The game simultaneously lasted fucking forever and was much faster than Alex thought it would be. Casey's team won, so Alex had to deal with Olivia huffing and chastising the DA’s team next to her and John giving her a very pointed look, competitive in the way of the observer, that she returned coldly.

Casey didn't come around until the detectives were almost ready to go. Stabler had returned, clenching his jaw after trying to convince a couple people to do some more practice runs with him, and Olivia bolted to her feet to sympathetically pat him on the shoulder. Alex, after a fraction of a second, rose too, and followed. “I don't get how she does that,” He kept grumbling, and Alex had to agree- but her opinion of that was different.

Alex watched out of the corner of her eye as Casey bounced around- literally bounced around, some of the younger interns were literally jumping with the adrenaline and Casey was mimicking it for their benefit- and they hugged each other tight around the shoulders, fluid motions and hearty laughs, until their noses and cheeks were tinted pink with breathlessness. Casey was here celebrating a win- a double win, now- but apparently, some other girl on the team had just lost a major suit according to someone Alex had overheard on the bleachers and the DA’s team was clearly playing on the enthusiasm and adrenaline to cheer her up. Alex watched as Casey grabbed the other lawyer in a tight hug, then pressed a kiss to her cheek, and her stomach fluttered and she looked away very quickly. She hoped no one noticed.

She looked back in time, though, to see Casey shaking the woman off her arm, and that settled the unease in her bones quickly. The other woman held her hand for as long as possible, looking at her with eyes akin to a lost puppy, but Casey only flashed her a bright smile and kept walking, letting her arm fall loosely over to her side as she walked away. She quickened her pace of exit when she saw Alex looking in her direction, jogging over.

“So, Alex?”

“So yourself. You were fantastic.” Alex chimed, and even though Casey was sweaty and was coated in dirt from the floor of the field she extended an arm to give her a half-hug and Casey took it, resting her head on Alex’s shoulder for a moment before letting go.

The others in the group shared similar observations, albeit half-heartedly, while Casey just grinned apologetically at Stabler who stood staring at her blankly. After a moment, the two exchanged a very informal fist bump, and tension eased from Elliot’s broad shoulders.

They chatter about the game for a while, recounting moments of note or teammates that were new or actions that were game-changing, until it was randomly noticed they were the last ones outside, the other legal system workers apparently having moved on to their own after-party that Alex noted Casey apparently had turned down and the other detectives had sullenly collected belongings and dipped.

“So, McMullen’s?” Stabler muttered, “I could use a beer after all this.”

“That's the one all the way near the precinct,” Munch argued, but Alex interjected with, “Let's do it.” That place was familiar- she had grown accustomed to it, and selfishly it was also very close to her apartment. John was left alone in his argument and they all nodded, separating towards cars with the knowledge they’d meet up shortly.

“You may have to drive,” Alex murmured, “I’m above the legal limit. That okay?”

“I get to drive your fancy-ass car? Hell yeah!” Casey cheered, “That's a reward on its own. Come with me, though, I have to grab my things.”

There was a small building off to the side, big enough to serve its only purpose as being a locker room. There were two doors and no windows, effectively a brick block that had no aesthetical component at all, and the lights flickered on as Casey went into one of the doors and hit the light. It kept flickering, though.

Alex stood in the doorway for a second, wrinkling her nose at the smell of very heavy spray deodorant and sweat, but Casey was talking to her, so it felt rude to let the door close separating the two, and after a second Alex stepped in behind her and tugged the metal door closed behind her.

“Did you mean it, though? That in the fourth inning I-”

“Yes, Casey,” Alex interrupted her, “you played very well. I don't say things I don't genuinely stand behind.”

It was rather endearing that Casey wanted her verbal approval, despite the fact Alex was completely aware Casey knew she had played well. She had been getting a stream of compliments and attention from her peers. It made Alex salivate that Casey had chosen to ditch the girl who had reminded her of a dog to talk to her instead. Maybe that was the alcohol talking. Maybe she should keep reminding herself that it was the alcohol talking.

“Hold on- look away, I’m going to change really quickly, and then we can get going.”

Alex felt her cheeks grow warm but she obediently turned on her heel to face the metal door, hearing the tug of a zipper as Casey stripped off her pants, then the rustling of fabric as her shirt came off, and Alex ground her teeth against each other trying not to imagine what was directly behind her. Casey sighed deeply, and Alex bit into her cheek.

She stayed like that, staring bolts of lightning into the door, until she felt Casey tap her shoulder, relinquishing her of the obligation. “Alright. Car keys, counselor?”

Alex pawed them over from her pocket wordlessly and Casey offered her a confused smile but did not press the issue, letting herself out of the locker room and heading towards the car.

She had changed into a white polo shirt, the top two buttons missing to dip and show her distinct collarbones, the cut of the sleeves emphasizing the subtle but firm muscles of her forearms. Beneath it, she carried dark jeans with a leather belt. She hadn't removed her hair from the bun, even though several strands of hair had fallen out near the front, and Alex tried to fixate on the shape of said bun on the back of her head while following her towards her own car.

Her internal monologue was failing to come up with reasons why she shouldn't be allowed to touch Casey's shoulders just a little bit. She could see the groves of muscle through the polo shirt- a little bit, right? Just a little bit?

Alex turned the music up in the car when Casey put it back on so she wouldn't need to make shaky conversation, and Casey seemed content enough with that. The duffel bag had been discarded in the back, Alex now in the passenger with Casey in the driver.

“You seem happy,” Casey commented finally during a lapse in the music- a long outro, or a long intro- and Alex just smiled slyly back at her. She was.

The bar was wonderfully familiar. Alex followed Casey to the booth in the back, the one their group always frequented, and the others were already there, looking up from menus no one really needed because they'd been there so many times everyone already had a signature.

Alex ended in between Olivia and Casey, the brunette on her left towards the wall, and Casey in the gap between her and the end of the couch. Casey struggled slightly- the booth wasn't large enough to accommodate a group of six people, but Alex was more than happy that it forced Casey to try to curve into her side. She didn't move over, didn't try to shove herself against Olivia to make more room for the redhead. With one leg crossed over the other and her shoulder firmly on Alex's, though, Casey made due.

They chirp orders to a bartender who wanders over, Alex graciously agreeing to carry this first round as she had earlier mentioned. Stabler ordered a beer more expensive than the type he normally drank, and Casey shot him a pointed look. He looked mildly apologetic, and Casey rolled her eyes.

John and Fin quickly began chattering about things below Alex’s pay grade, so she turned her attention towards Olivia and Elliot, who were discussing an upcoming event at Stabler’s children’s high school- a fundraiser, or some other such thing- and Casey listened eagerly. Alex stayed mostly quiet, unaware of how to participate in a conversation about public schools and children.

Besides, she had a much larger problem to attend to.

Casey's arm had snuck around her waist and was currently resting on the slight ridge of her hip.

Logically, she could reason that it was because she was intentionally making it more difficult for Casey to sit comfortably, the younger attorney still awkwardly very close to the edge of the faux-leather booth, but still. Her thumb was resting directly on the iliac crest, and if Alex paid close attention it was almost as if Casey was moving it, the rest of her fingers snaking just below it, grasping at the fabric of Alex’s pants. Maybe this was her punishment for enjoying forcing Casey to wriggle and balance on the very end of the seat.

She opened her mouth to join the conversation, but Casey, as though experimenting, ran her thumb in a line across the jut of her hip bone and Alex stiffened on impulse. As soon as Casey felt her spine tense like that, she hastily let go. Alex wished she could ask her to leave her hand there, though.

Why are you thinking like that, she internally chastised herself, Alex, you don't- you said you wouldn't try to do anything with… but she’s pursuing you, now, isn't she?

“Yes, Alex?” Olivia asked with a note of confusion, and she realized she had made to speak and then lost herself in thought. She didn't really remember what she was going to say, though. Her jaw was still open, but she just snapped it shut and shook her head quickly with a ‘never mind’.

Casey's hand did not return for the rest of the hour or so spent chatting at the bar, despite Alex’s struggling attempts at manifesting. She was uncomfortable, now, not because of Casey, but because of Casey's absence. She was pressed so close to her side but somehow it felt as though Alex had messed up, prematurely rejected her, and that something would shift in the dynamic now. The itch and ache behind her skin got progressively worse as she tried to mask her anxiety behind the mask, when really all she wanted to do was talk to Casey. The copper-headed woman’s conversations always included either Olivia or Stabler or Munch, though, and there was never a moment in which Alex could separate her off to start a banter or a hushed conversation between the two of them alone. So, mostly, Alex just sat there, watching her coworkers indulge in the moment while feeling isolated and cold. Her spine was not able to relax after Casey’s hand had left.

She started to feel sick with the rigidness of her body. She wanted to peel it off.

“You seem distracted,” Casey murmured lightly, her breath warm over the side of Alex’s face, her mouth precariously close as she leaned her face towards the side of Alex’s jaw, speaking into her ear. Alex hadn't even realized she had moved.

She steeled her eyes and turned to stare at Casey coldly, almost as if trying to scare her off, a habit she regretted the second she realized what she was doing- I won't let you get this close, I'm warning you- it said, but Casey simultaneously picked up on it, picked up on her regret, and simply grinned at her. She seemed pleased, even, that she was eliciting a response. Alex fumed inside of her mind at the amount of control the redhead had attained over her in the span of a night that wasn't even over yet.

“I’m fine.” Alex said in a hushed whisper, “Just- just drunk.”

Casey provided a low hum in the back of her throat, placing her jaw on Alex’s shoulder, blinking up at her through slightly narrowed eyes.

“Aren't you, Casey?”

“I assumed I’d be driving. I had a beer, but that was around an hour ago, now.”

“Oh.” Alex shifted, her face heating up slightly, “You're taking me home?”

“Do you not want me to do that?”

“I- but, how would you get home from mine? I don't- I can't really give you my car-”

“I can walk from yours,” Casey responded easily, to which Alex shook her head quickly.

“God, Casey, I’m not letting you walk home alone in the middle of the night, just-”

“Are you two planning on leaving soon?” Olivia interrupted loudly, who had drunk a bit more than both of them and seemed irritated in the way drunk people were. “I cannot wait to get away from this guy here,” the brunette sighed, jabbing a thumb at Stabler, who stared at her incredulously. Like Casey, he had also refrained from drinking so he could drop Olivia and John off.

“Olivia, I’m driving you home, and I stand by what I said.”

“But that doesn't even make sense!” She scolded him, “Why is the plural of mouse mice and the plural of goose geese and the plural form of moose still moose? Who the hell has ever said ‘Oh yes, what a lovely pack of moose there in the distance’-”

“Liv, I didn't say it didn't make sense, I just said it wasn't relevant-”

“Excuse you. This is very relevant to my day-to-day life.”

They blinked at each other for a long, slow moment, and Alex decided she did in fact need to get away from them. But, as she reached for her purse to drop what she owed, shame bloomed suddenly in her heart. Fuck.

She groaned quietly, her index extending automatically to rub the base of her glabella, tilting her head backward and squeezing her eyes shut with frustration and also an unwillingness to share what she definitely needed to.

Her discontent at her mistake triggered something else in her stomach, and she felt the familiar sensation of everything inside of her moving uncomfortably, skin aching and turning. She felt like she was about to be scolded by her father- or worse, her uncle- for lacking composure, for forgetting to keep track of every minor detail and interaction held.

It was important to be on top of everything constantly- no, it was necessary. She needed to. It was drilled into her as much as her skin was part of her anatomy, and regardless of how stressed it made her, she needed it compulsively.

She wanted to be someone else, and now she'd have to pay the price for it.

“Alex?” Casey’s voice sounded mildly concerned, and Alex tried her best to hide the embarrassment in her voice when she turned to the redhead and conspiratorially muttered, “I forgot my purse.”

She knew exactly where it was- well, unless it had been stolen since then, but she knew where she had left it. Putting it directly beneath her on the aluminum bleachers of the softball field had not been a wise choice given the principle of ‘out of sight, out of mind' and her lusting after Casey and Casey’s ridiculously attractive shoulders had not helped to remind her to grab it before they left.

Luckily she always kept three hundred dollar bills in her phone case in case of an emergency, so she popped it open and removed one to cover the table, waving off the others who tried to offer her change and similarly dismissing people offering to cover her drinks the next time the group joined at a bar.

“Well, we’ll just go back for it, then.” Casey replied smoothly, and Alex thanked the heavens Casey had not taken this as an opportunity to try to tease her, because Alex genuinely would've gotten mad if she had.

“But that's- that's half an hour each way,” Alex sighed, “and I’ve had too much to drive, but I don't want to ask you too-”

“Extra time with you? I can't complain. Come, now.” Casey grinned, swiping at her shoulder gently the way she had with Elliot earlier, and Alex couldn't help but crack a weak smile and follow her and she made her way out of the bar, waving goodbyes to the others.

“I meant it, though,” Casey starts once they're outside of the building, “you did seem distant back there. Is everything… alright?”

“I-” Alex started without meaning to, clamping her jaw shut and watching Casey unlock her car so they could both climb in, Casey placing the duffel in the back again as prior.

She watched the younger attorney raise an eyebrow inquisitively, which she responded to with a loose sigh.

“Nothing.” She said blankly, and listened as Casey echoed her sigh.

Alex could see the gears churning in Casey's head as they both clambered into Alex’s Cadillac, Casey’s eyes roving over the interior with awe once more. The copper-headed woman wasn't verbally pushing her to explain her issue but Alex wasn't stupid enough to think Casey would let it drop. She briefly worried that Casey thought it was her fault, but if she did, maybe she wouldn't provoke an explanation, and Alex was okay with that. She didn't feel like she wanted to verbalize this discomfort with Casey.

This car drive was again quiet, but not because Alex was in a state of drunken content, but rather because Alex was fighting personal demons and Casey was trying very hard to run through every possible list of what could've upset the older attorney.

“It was just one of my mulberry set, so it doesn't matter that much if it's actually missing or if someone stole it.” Alex said finally, to fill the void of silence.

Casey squinted at her, trying to figure out if that was sarcasm, but it didn't seem to be.

“I’m not going to grant that a response,” she said finally. “You rich kids are something else.”

Alex thinned her lips into a straight line but didn't respond. Casey was right, of course, they had very different upbringings. That's why Casey's skin suited her body, and Alex’s was constantly irritating her.

Neither attorney tried to fill the void of silence after that, not even with music, Alex staring blankly out of the side window while Casey focused on the dark road in front of her. Alex had moved on from her demons to anxiously smoothing her thumb in little patterns on her wrist, very uncomfortable without a distinct reason. This wasn't really about the purse, to put it plainly.

After what felt like an eternity, Casey pulled over, and Alex stumbled out of the car. The place was utterly devoid of people, although the lights were still on for some reason, and it wasn't hard to spot the dot of her bag in the distance even with her glasses. There was a light behind the bleachers that illuminated the spaces between plates of metal and she could make out a shape that blocked out the light exactly where she had been sitting. Without checking to see if Casey was following, she set out, wincing at the feeling of gravel and damp dirt beneath her shoes.

She had picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder before she registered Casey’s presence again, behind her, and the attorney's voice was soft as she spoke.

“Put it back down, Alex, play ball with me.”

Alex froze.

“What?”

“Play ball with me,” Casey echoed, and when Alex turned around the copperhead was simply tossing the softball up and down in one hand without even looking at it. Casey’s eyes were instead fixated intently on her.

Alex shrugged her purse strap tighter to her side as if it were a life raft of sorts. “I don't play sports, Casey-” she tried, but Casey just shook her head slightly, the bun that had slowly been coming out over the duration of the evening bouncing along with the rotation of her head.

“Just catch it,” Casey soothed, “and if you really hate it we’ll go back to the car. Put your purse down- come off the bleachers, come over here.”

It was hard to disobey when Casey sounded so direct, so after a moment of hesitation and a minor internal thrashing Alex set her bag down once more and stepped off the bleachers, onto the grass where Casey was. She knew her face must be exerting a twisted, concerned expression, but although Casey’s eyes were soft they were also immensely firm. Determined.

“I don't know… how to catch a ball.” Alex said lamely, holding her hands out stiffly in front of her. She was rewarded for her confession with Casey’s chuckle.

“Don't think about it,” Casey said, “just focus on me. You’ll catch it.”

The redhead paused her casual toss-catch rhythm, cupping the ball in her palm and letting her arm hang down by her side. She smiled reassuringly at Alex, who hadn't felt nervous like this since grade school.

“You've been doing fine focusing on me tonight,” Casey teased, after Alex hadn't answered, and Alex flushed, “so- should be doable. Ready?”

Alex wanted to curl into a ball and hide, honestly, so no, she wasn't ready. Straight spine, stiff shoulders, her head feeling like it was propped up on a pedestal rather than a neck. Her hands still were held loosely in front of her, as though someone was passing her a wine glass to nurse rather than a ball to catch, and her feet were right beside each other in the ‘natural’ resting position for her- which had been very unnaturally taught, and then forced, until young Alex did not automatically stand any other way. Casey’s brow quirked as if this was amusing to her.

The blonde’s brow furrowed in anxious concentration, and she took a quick breath, trying to focus on Casey as the redhead had so advised. And despite her teasing tone, she had been right, it was easy for Alex to focus on her.

It was really dark out, now, so Alex could only see the parts of Casey that were illuminated by the overhead beam, but it was angled in a way that she could still see most of her. Casey’s eyes were teasing but attentive, and her posture was entirely relaxed. She didn't look like she had when she was actually playing, which relieved Alex immensely.

When Casey had been playing, she had seemed athletic and agile, with muscles that rippled under her skin the way that a leopard’s might as it pounced. Now, more similarly to her courtroom appearances, her arms had relaxed back into how they normally appeared- although they always looked wonderfully lean- only slightly more built than the average woman’s. Her fingers were lithe as they wrapped around the softball she held, a degree of comfort interacting with the object that read easily as years of experience. Alex tried not to note the details of how the white polo shirt clung and accentuated her bust, or the curve of her waist. Casey’s stance- leaning slightly, more weight on one leg than the other casually, did not help Alex scrape her eyes off of her figure. She felt herself relax, slightly, drawn in by the details of the other woman’s form. She supposed it was easy to stop paying so much attention to herself and everything that was right or wrong in herself and her posture when she was given permission to study someone as- well, frankly, hot- as Casey.

“I’m ready,” Alex said after a long pause, running her tongue over her dry bottom lip to ease the nerves. She wasn't sure what prompted her to say it.

Casey eased her arm in a low arc, passing it once, then twice, the arc getting larger each time, before curling her fingers around the ball as she let it go in a firm underhand toss. Trained as she was, it flew in a bow formation, slow and controlled as it made its way directly towards Alex, who caught it instinctively, trapping it between her two palms.

She looked up at Casey with eyes as concerned as if she was carrying a grenade, and Casey laughed, her hands on her knees, evidently pleased.

“Good! Go on, throw it back to me.”

Alex’s nose scrunched up with focus as she tried to recreate the same motion Casey had done, her limbs feeling weird and disjointed, stiff and loose, unlike the fluid motion Casey had produced. But regardless, she threw it.

Casey catching it was entirely due to the redhead’s own ability, because unlike when Alex had caught it due to Casey’s precise aim, Alex had no clue how to direct the ball properly, and it fell short by about a meter, which was anticipated the second the ball left her hand by Casey who scrambled to get it, achieving the fear with only a mild degree of difficulty.

“You did it!” She cheered, bouncing with excitement the way she had when she had won the softball match hours prior, and Alex couldn't help but acknowledge her enthusiasm as very infectious. A small, genuine yet shy smile played on her lips and Casey darted backward again, taking her stance to throw it once more, which Alex did not move to protest.

Unlike last time, when Alex had caught it very close to her chest, the blonde with some degree of determination reached her arms slightly higher, managing to catch it while it was still in the air above her. She still used both hands, but it was a stark degree of progress.

Alex's face split open into a grin of genuine emotion, now, a smile that awkwardly expressed the strange pride she felt at managing the relatively very simple task, and without hesitation she threw it back to Casey, using enough force this time- correcting her precious mistake- so the ball was easily once again resting in Casey's hand.

“Look at you go,” Casey beamed, the corners of her eyes angling with the intensity of the smile she flashed Alex with, “now, this one’s harder, okay?”

This time, Casey threw it overhead, albeit still much gentler than she normally would. Her previous throws were meant to land directly at Alex’s stand, but this one aimed for a foot or so behind her. The blonde, however, had seemingly gained enough understanding of the ball’s arch to realize, hastily taking a few steps backward to once again encase it.

Alex mused to herself that she felt as though she was getting the hang of this, so she returned the ball once more, still using underhand, watching as Casey bounced backward twice to give them more distance. She threw it, and Alex realized it was flying too far to the side, and she scrambled in that direction, bending down strangely but managing to catch the softball before it hit the floor.

She looked up with a very sheepish expression, but was rewarded with the sight of Casey smiling as if it were Christmas morning, and she relaxed, standing up. Casey had apparently taken a few more long strides backwards, away from her.

“I can't throw that far, come closer.” She called, but Casey shook her head.

“You can make it to me- try out throwing overhead.” Casey urged, “And if it falls short, I’ll run and get it anyway.”

Alex stood, awkwardly still for a long second, staring at Casey, who just kept her bright smile. After a second, she glanced at the ball in her hand, and, mimicking Casey’s movement once again, extended one arm behind her slightly, rotating her torso, and then shot it forward, leaning forward into her swing.

Although she stumbled, looking up prematurely to see if the throw would arc the way she had wanted it to, it did fly almost all the way to the other attorney, who easily lifted a singular hand to catch it in her palm.

This time, Casey did not wait for Alex to recompose before swinging- and she did it differently, this time, lifting a leg to fire the ball at her the way she had during softball except with a bit less force. Enough force, though, that although Alex again scrambled for it, the softball flew too far to the side and the blonde woman ended up on her knees in the shortly clipped grass. She turned her head to stare indignantly at her companion, who just poked the tip of her tongue out of her mouth nonchalantly and motioned for Alex to go fetch.

She would never do anything so.. unpretentious. However, with Casey patiently grinning at her, Alex sighed, standing, brushing off her knees quickly, and then briskly pacing to retrieve the ball, which had landed only a few meters to her side.

“Are we done, counselor?” Novak called from her place a ways away, and Alex raised her eyebrow at the other woman incredulously.

“After that?” She scoffed, and threw the ball again more forcefully, purposely not really aiming at Casey who thus had to hasten towards it, reading its path but still needing to scurry multiple meters, catching it but only just barely. Alex refused to note how elegant the motion was, despite how awkward it really should've seemed.

Alex did not have the time to further study Casey’s elegance because the redhead was already firing back at her, one leg raised high at the knee as prior, and that only really made her understand how attractive Casey’s legs were- her undivided attention to the attorney’s arms had made her miss out on something else equally appealing.

This time Casey was gracious enough to aim at her once more, and Alex caught it, each grab easier than the previous.

They repeated this exchange, Casey’s throws were much smoother and intentional, except she kept occasionally throwing slightly higher or lower or to either side to force Alex to move herself. Alex occasionally missed her grab or not being able to close the distance in time, which only fueled her play intensity when she returned the ball. Alex’s throws were mostly loose, but for the most part, they went far enough, and Casey was more than happy to scramble for them, ending up on her knees multiple times but never failing to catch it firmly.

Casey had started laughing, at some point, delighted to be playing no matter how bad her play partner was, and Alex hadn't even realized when her grin became permanent and her exhales started to sound like breathless giggles.

Eventually, Alex’s breathing started coming faster, and there was a thrum in her heart unrelated to Casey, and said woman realized the blonde was starting to get tired. She stopped the back and forth once the ball returned to her palm, choosing instead to jog over.

“Let's try something- hold this.” She murmured, tossing the ball into the air, which Alex now easily and casually managed to snag.

She reached over and adjusted Alex’s position, smooth hands gliding to shape the rotation of the older woman’s shoulders, lightly pressing to move her hips, gliding across her arms to rearrange the assortment of limbs.

She then turned to stand beside her, mirroring the posture she had just moved Alex into, looking at her with a sly grin. “Now, when you throw, I want you to curve like this-” she demonstrated, her motions causing the fabric to ruffle, her shirt rising up slightly at the hem to tease Alex with a thin strip of the woman’s abdomen, “and raise your leg like this, and then,-” she made a hushed whooshing sound, a cartoonist version of a ball being thrown.

Alex nodded obediently, starting to prepare herself before Casey shook her head quickly. “Give me a headstart- I go on two, and you go on zero. Okay?”

The blonde was now mildly confused on what Casey was attempting, but regardless nodded, frozen in the position Casey had sculpted.

“Five, four, three..” Casey counted down, slowly creeping her body down into a low lunge, “two-!” she bolted forward, and then Alex understood, mentally counting down the last two numbers before flinging the ball as hard as she physically was able to.

She was then content to straighten out, catching her breath, while watching Casey sprint after it. Her strides were so long and so light Alex wasn't sure she was even really touching the ground. With the movement, her ever-loosening bun snapped open, and auburn hair flowed as if cascading behind her, and Alex's breath caught still in her lungs.

Even though the ball did manage to outfly her sprint, she was damn near close when she dove for it, sliding on one knee to retrieve it, skidding to a halt a little ways away from where she had initially landed. She jumped up, shook herself off, and then jogged back, a breathless grin on her face.

“I thought I had it,” she panted, “I’ve always wanted to try doing that.”

The copper-headed woman proceeded to flop down on the grass, rolling so she was lying on her back looking up at Alex who was still breathing with a little more labor than she’d like to admit from their previous shenanigans. After a second, Alex carefully sat down next to her, near but not close enough to be on her loose hair by accident.

“You were very close,” Alex agreed, eyes never leaving Casey’s enthusiastic ones. “I didn't know people could be that fast.”

After a brief second, she reached out and rested her hand on the front of Casey’s shoulder, who blinked up at her. It was a reassurance that Alex’s earlier silence wasn't her fault, Alex tried to convey, that Casey had done nothing wrong and everything right.

Casey sat up to look at Alex more directly, but she raised a hand to keep Alex’s fingers resting on the flat of her chest and an inch below her collarbone. Her face was close to Alex’s leaning forward so boldly Alex almost thought to lean back.

“You look good like this,” She cooed so lightly it was almost smug, almost victorious, “you’re normally so rigid, so overtly mannered.”

It was then that Alex realized she had not registered anything of herself outside of trying to figure out how to position her arm to throw better for the past while.

Nothing had seemed to exist outside of Casey laughing gleefully across the field, bouncing from one foot to the other while waiting for her to launch her softball back to her- as much as Alex could launch it- and as soon as the ball had left her hands, the only thing she thought of was the sight of Casey running to snatch it midair, her hand itching to feel the leather again so she could try again, see if she could throw it farther, and more forcefully.

See if she could make Casey laugh harder, the giddy sound almost echoing in the night, filling the void and almost creepy vacant softball field with audio so genuine it made Alex’s heart flutter. See if she could elicit another called praise, or another witty comment from the woman she had been eyeing so intently.

Her limbs and joints felt loose but connected, blood racing through her veins happily as if finally allowed to dart around her body, resurfacing energy and releasing dopamine in a way she hadn't felt in what must now be years. Her bones felt as light as a bird’s, and her skin was so enthusiastic at the play it nestled onto her body like a puzzle piece that finally clicked into place, and even now that she was finished, it felt like her own. For once, Alex had earned the right to feel comfortable in her own skin.

She hadn't cared to ponder what she must look like, in a blouse layered by a sweater in a field with her glasses, tripping over herself to try to play ball with a woman who could pass as a semi-professional athlete. Her chest must be heaving in an effort to catch her breath, her lungs entirely unused to anything more strenuous than stairs, her legs long but her ability to use them only equivalent to a fawn’s. But whenever she had caught Casey's playful eyes, they looked at her like her stumbling self was a million bucks, and that was enough for her.

This was enough for her. Her goal for the night had been realized in full.

“What are you thinking about, counselor?” Casey breathed, and Alex realized she had leaned even closer, dark green eyes searching her’s as if she could read words in Alex’s pupils.

Alex almost thought she was assuming something until she caught the microaction of Casey’s eyes darting to her lips, before glancing up a fraction of a second later with a hint of shyness in her expression- something Alex had never seen, but certainly wasn't complaining about- and Alex was more than happy to indulge her, seeing as how Casey had spent the last hour trying to ensure Alex could ease some of the rigidness from her soul.

She left the hand Casey had touched on her collar, but brought her other hand up to cradle the back of the redhead’s skull, closing the small gap between their faces, and pressing her lips gently against the other woman’s.

Casey let out a small, whimpered sound, and Alex tried to let her go, only to be tugged back with ferocious intensity.

The younger woman pushed her into a more structured sitting position, one leg swinging over Alex’s lap to straddle her hips, Casey’s hands cupping the sides of Alex’s neck, one thumb on her jaw. Her lips were so soft, but so exhilarating, Alex felt as though she could melt, Casey pulling them apart every couple seconds just to come back closer a second later. Due to the nature of their position, Alex had to crane her neck to angle her face up at her, the column of her throat exposed, and Casey was clearly thrilled, her hands exploring her jaw and below it, soft touches that felt rather greedy.

Alex was finally able to take what she had been fantasizing about- when Casey pulled them apart for a second, panting for breath much harsher than she ever had while exercising, she untangled her hand from the auburn locks she had grasped and ran her hand instead down Casey’s shoulder blade, reveling in the feeling of the soft muscles and the small noise Casey made when she did so, catching the woman’s mouth once more to swallow the sounds she made as her hands both moved to smooth over Casey’s biceps, her triceps, her forearms, and then back up again.

“Alex,” Casey breathed into her mouth, before Alex shifted, pressing her back into her lips, to which Casey had no protest. The copper-headed woman’s hands stopped so much exploring as they did holding for support, and Alex mused to herself- the first coherent thought to break through the haze of bliss she had found herself in- that Casey must have thought she’d be the one to have the other squirming. The thought amused her, and only compelled her to continue feeling her up.

“Alex-,” Casey was whining now, Alex’s hand slipping behind her lithe figure to her shoulder blades again, running her fingers down savoringly before turning her attention to her ribs, using her thumbs to brush against her breast only slightly before moving down her to waist, utterly enraptured.

Alex bucked her hips, startling Casey as the blonde pushed her off entirely, and then kept pushing, rolling them over until Casey was flat on her back, and Alex was over her, her knees buried hard into the dirt to keep her above in a way that would've made her quite upset at the grass stains they’d be sporting later had she not been so enchanted by the feeling of Casey moving, Casey’s muscles bunching and twitching as she moved against her.

“Oh,” Casey gasped, and Alex paused, raising her hands to either side of Casey’s head so she could smile down at the woman whose cheeks were so red they almost matched her hair.

Her blonde hair fell to frame Casey’s face, who breathlessly tried to push it out of the way so she could see the triumphant gleam in Alex’s eyes, and then Casey propped herself up on her elbows to land a soft kiss on Alex’s grinning lips.

The normally overtly composed woman broke into a giddy laugh, sitting up, before rolling to the side so she could lay next to Casey in the dark grass. Casey snorted lightly at the sound of it, rolling to the side so she could study Alex’s gorgeous side profile as the woman looked up to the dark night sky above them.

“I guess this solves the issue of us going to separate apartments with only one car,” Casey breathed, and that just made Alex laugh harder, lulling her head to the side to meet Casey’s eyes and see her quiet smile.

All of Alex’s strings had been cut. Right now, she felt anything but stiff. Anything but rigid.

[wroteclassicaly]

Steve’s way of calming down from an anxiety attack when you’re asleep and he needs you (because that selfless man won’t wake up you, even if you’ve demanded he do so if he needs anything), is to push up your sleep shirt and rest his cheek over the swell of your breasts. There’s times when he’s content to settle, but others he likes to have wandering fingertips that give barely there grazes just beneath your boobs, his fingernail scratching your areola until your nipples perk beneath the warm stimulation. Then he can’t really resist what his mouth decides to do, now can he?

He’ll use that strength in his lower torso, his sleep plants rucking up as he finds his way to being completely over your slumbering form, tongue slicking along his mouth, saliva pressing in the corners. Every breath you take puts your chest on display, and leaves Steve to feel as if all of his previous head trauma has caused amnesia, because holy fuck — seeing your pretty tits becomes a brand new experience each time it happens.

“So, so fucking pretty, honey. Can I have them?” He’ll whisper in the dark, his panic subsiding as he gives into impending focus of a new mission.

You might mewl a bit, shift or wiggle. But you’re always pliant, receptive to him. His chain will sway forward when he lifts to bend into a lean, and your nose crinkles him into a soft set, trademark grin, because he knows that it tickles you, a comment he’s heard (without complaints) when you’re also awake.

One of Steve’s favorite anchors that resides in the home of your body, is when he’s kissing your breasts, jostling them in his hand, squeezing. Those full lips finding a nipple to attach to, tongue licking lazily until you’re shining with his spit. He blows lightly on his work after, and if he’s lucky (regardless, he knows he is) — he’ll get that particular noise from you that makes his cock kick up.

He’s having his own private heart to heart, and you trust him enough to give yourself over, no matter what.

There’s nights that you’ll awaken (some of his most favorite, ones that will redden him from the chest up at just the mere memory), so gone from your dozing and dazed desperation, that your voice will lower several octaves, checking on him first and foremost, then give way to a high pitched whispering plea for him.

“Shh, shh.” Calmed enough to practically coo at you, his massive palm will cup your cheek as he relaxes into his full weight settling atop you, his nipples dragging against your own, chest hair tickling goosebumps to life along your already overly-sensitive flesh.

“I know I’ve got you worked up, honey. M’ gonna take care of you too, alright?”

You struggle to rid yourself of blurry vision, that raw need that crackles your chest with a burning ache, a singeing to your tongue to taste it, to take what’s yours. Because he’s there for you and you’re there for him.

Your panties are in many different positions; halfway off and around your knees, the delicious attempt to try and fit him inside that way, to the side with transparent impatience, or flung to the wayside (a shared top pick) so your legs can fall completely apart to rest or be maneuvered into position.

“Steve…” You’re crying, as if he’s a dream that’s never meant to be yours. And it’s pathetic how empty you feel until he’s got himself in his palm, guiding himself to lay heavy against your inner thigh, because he needs to kiss you before he goes insane and inside — always.

When it’s over, you let him stay inside until he’s fast asleep and his face is in your tits — home.

[aamputation]

SVSSS AU ... Benevolent System 0.2

related to -> [THIS] Shen Yuan art, just a lil bit i typed up and want to share

EDIT: added more! > [1st] [3rd]

He can’t recall a time where he's ever felt so light before, in his past life or even now. He grins, patting down his new body, flush with health and brimming with energy. If he focuses on his breathing, he can feel his qi and the way it circulates through his meridians, full and robust. It feels wild, and exhilaration takes him over, a laugh bursting forth.

“Hey, System, you sure the prices in the shop weren't glitches? This feels like it's too good to be true for a total of 45 B points…”

《 Answering [Host] … 》

《 This System promises it was not a glitch! 》

《  o(〒﹏〒)o  》

《 This System merely wishes to fulfill its promise to be of use to [Host] in the world of [Proud Immortal Demon Way]!! 》

Shen Yuan snorts; he’s never going to get over the fact that this baby system used kaomojis of all things to express itself. On one hand it's a bit alarming, the difference between the one that attached itself to him versus the original system that yoinked his soul into that extra-planar space to begin with. That system was undoubtedly an asshole and Shen Yuan would have absolutely hated being stuck with such an obnoxious tyrant. Yeah, while this particular system just reeks of didi energy, it sure beats whatever nasty vibes the OG system was putting off. Good fucking riddance!

“So I've still got 55 B-Points left…” he rubs his chin as he hums, staring into the semi-transparent, floating holo-display showing him the System Shop.

《 If this System may offer [Host] a suggestion? 》

“Yeah, sure, didi,” Shen Yuan replies absently, scrolling through some cultivation manuals available for purchase out of his price range, “go ahead.”

The System makes an alarming electronic noise that to his ears, sounds remarkably like a flustered keysmash. 

《 Di-didi!? {ERROR.404: Name not found} This System apologizes to [Host] but it does not understand– 》

“Ah, my bad. You just remind me of what having a baby brother might be like, so didi slipped out. I can just call you System if you would prefer–”

《 … 》

《 {REGISTERING.BS01.NAME:[DIDI]} 》

《 … [Host]  is more than welcome to call this System Didi. 》

《  (/▽＼*)  》

“Okay then, didi. What was your suggestion about the remaining B-Points?”

《 Answering [Host] ... 》

《  This Didi would recommend purchasing world-appropriate styling. [Host] comes from an alternate world, and modesty standards are different. Would [Host] like to view available options within his budget? 》

《  Y  /   N  》

Shen Yuan nods, “I should have thought of that–thanks, didi.” He clicks YES, curious as to what the little system will show him.

His System—Didi, now—vibrates a little, the holo-display sending off little pink sparks that look remarkably cute alongside the blue and purple color scheme. It immediately pulls up the section on xianxia fashion, again all with shockingly low prices. Shen Yuan raises a suspicious eyebrow.

《  (←‿←;)  》

Shaking his head in bemusement, Shen Yuan begins his selections. He already knows exactly what he's going to do once he lands in the PIDW universe—why he basically maxed out his constitution, dexterity, and cultivation potential: it’s all for the monsters! He's finally got the chance to observe up close all the incredible beasts Airplane wrote about as mere stepping stones for Binghe's path to conquest! Knowing his plan to get up close and personal in observing and learning about these super cool monsters, he’s got to be practical.

His clothing choices probably would leave his family horrified with how unassuming and bland they are—utilitarian, easy to move in, and all muted neutral colors. He does splurge and spend a whole 15 B-points on the qiankun belt pouch, but the opening is large enough to fit anything the circumference of his arm, so it should be fine for now! He can always get a bigger bag at a later date. His other splurge is the pair of cool eyeglasses he can’t help buying, even though they’re 10 B-points. His face would feel naked without glasses, he's worn them for so long! Left with 15 B-points after his mostly-frugal fashion choices, Shen Yuan goes to close out of the menu but Didi stops him.

《 [Host] is forgetting that his current hairstyle is inappropriate for the world setting! 》

The holo-display automatically opens up the hairstyle menu options, and Shen Yuan's heart drops.

“Didi, no way! I- There's no way I'm going to be able to manage hair like that!”

《 Answering [Host] … 》 

《 These are expected styles for a [righteous cultivator] within the [xianxia] genre! Closely cropped hair is for criminals and slaves, and [Host] is neither! 》

“No, absolutely not!” Shen Yuan crosses his arms, the leather of his new arm guards creaking slightly with the movement. “Didi, I'm going to be studying monsters, okay? Big, scary, drooling oozing beasts. There’s going to be sludge and slime and probably shit, do you really think I'm going to have time every day to do my hair of all things?”

《 We- Well– 》

“No! The answer, didi, is no! I'm probably going to be a wandering cultivator once I get into the PIDW world, okay? I'm not exactly going to be living in comfort. Where would I even get the resources to take care of stuff like that? Huh?”

《 … 》

《 … [Host] has made his point. This Didi will remove excessively long hairstyles while remaining within style parameters for the world of [Proud Immortal Demon Way]. 》

Smugly, Shen Yuan grins at the holo-display, watching as the hair options dwindle down to a total of five. He immediately picks the shortest of them all, even if a below-chin length bob still feels like it's too long. Didi makes an electronic grating noise that to Shen Yuan's ears sounds somewhat distressed. He pointedly ignores it and idly runs his fingers through his new hairstyle, poking at the simple guan and hair ribbon that came with it. Meh. Good enough.

Alright, he thinks to himself, that leaves me with 10 B-points. There doesn't seem to be anything else in the System Shop that he can afford with the meagre currency he has left, not to mention his suspicion that he ought to keep at least a few points, just in case. He puts his hands on his hips and closes out of the Shop decisively. 

“Well, the only thing I’m missing is a weapon. I can’t afford anything else aside from this simple fan I bought in the Shop, but it’s going to have to do for now.”

《 … this Didi believes it can open the correct pathways to allow [Host] to find his own spiritual weapon within the world of [Proud Immortal Demon Way]. 》

《 Is [Host] amenable to this Didi’s suggestion? 》

《 (*•̀ᴗ•́*) 》

《  Y  /   N  》

Shrugging, Shen Yuan taps the YES on the holo-display. “I guess so. Hey, quick question! Will anyone else be able to see you after you drop me in there? Like, how do I interact with you?”

《 Answering [Host] … 》

《 This Didi is tethered to [Host]'s soul, only [Host] and other potential [Hosts] can see this Didi. Interfacing with this Didi can be done with a thought. 》

“So the holo-display will pop up if I need to interact with you? That seems… kinda awkward. Really breaks the immersion, doesn’t it?”

《 … 》

《 This Didi understands [Host]'s concern! Would [Host] like this Didi to synchronize with the [Plain White Hand Fan] he purchased from the {System.Store}? 》

《  Y  /   N  》

Shen Yuan stares at the YES / NO hovering before him, chewing his lower lip. “So you’d be… living in my fan, basically?”

《 Answering [Host] … 》

《 This Didi will not appear to [Host] while within the world of [Proud Immortal Demon Way] as an interface screen due to [Host]'s desire for deeper immersion. [Host]'s hand fan will serve as medium for all interactions with this Didi during his transmigration experience. Should [Host] wish to interface directly with this Didi, he only needs to say so. Otherwise, all needs can and will be met while this Didi remains within the confines of the [Plain White Hand Fan]{System.Store_PlWhite.Hand-Fan.pkg}. 》

“And will you being part of my fan grant it any special capabilities? Like, maybe… turning it into a cool weapon since I don’t have one?”

《 This Didi can modify the content code of {System.Store_PlWhite.Hand-Fan.pkg}, yes. Would [Host] like this Didi to implement code changes? 》

《  Y  /   N  》

“Yes!”

《 {INITIALIZING … [BS01_DIDI.EXE]{System.Store_PlWhite.Hand-Fan.pkg}  INTEGRATION.DAT} 》

Shen Yuan can’t help the tiny gasp that escapes him as the holo-display he’s started to become used to glitches and flickers out of existence. The simple fan he’d bought from the System Shop is forcibly pulled from the confines of his qiankun pouch and with a flash of absurdly bright light and a loud, electronic crackling noise, collides with the glitchy holo-display and explodes in a shower of sparks. The The fan returns to Shen Yuan’s hand, and he flicks it open on a reflex. There, staring back at him, is a message box plastered across the once-blank white surface. If squints, he can see the rapidly developing hex markings and digital-looking tracks that crawl out across the white silk like vines. He still hears didi’s voice in his mind, the Google Translate voice beginning to grow on him as it tracks its integration progress.

《 «𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡... 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…» 》

《  ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 0%   》

《  █▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 8%  》

《  ███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 29%  》

《  █████▒▒▒▒▒ 50%  》

《  ███████▒▒▒ 83%  》

《  ██████████ 100% ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!  》

《 «𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠…» 》

《 {INITIALIZING}[BSF01_DIDI.EXE]INTEGRATION.DAT} 》

Shen Yuan blinks down at the fan in his hands as it vibrates and shivers before fluttering with a spray of pink and purple sparkles. 

《 Greetings, [Host]! 》

《 This Didi has successfully integrated with [Host]'s {System.Store}  purchase. [Host]'s [Plain White Hand Fan]  has evolved into the [Benevolent System Fan] and can boast many new capabilities. This Didi is also eager to serve [Host]  as he journeys through the world of [Proud Immortal Demon Way]! 》

《 o(≧▽≦)o 》

《 (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ 》

《 (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ 》

[1st] < > [3rd]

shout out to adornedwithlight for the reblog banner

[erisolsprite]

A Letter to CJ, from Santae Staff

First and foremost, I'd like to establish this as an attempt made in good faith to advocate for the better treatment of all current and future members of the Santae staff and community. I have nothing to gain from this personally--everything that follows is shared only in the interest of transparency, and the choice to do so now is my own.

At the time of the recent walkout on March 4th, 2025, CJ was presented with a letter. This letter was drafted with the assistance of multiple established staff members for two reasons: to address recurring behaviors that were unanimously considered inappropriate and unprofessional, and to provide an exhaustive list of adjustments and changes required to better the team going forward. The intent was always to bring light to these issues, and encourage growth from within by supporting any efforts made to resolve them.

Instead, the few changes that were implemented while I was still an Admin were inconsistent and poorly executed; CJ's behavior remains unchanged, and he has stated outright that he is unwilling to entertain any further negotiations. Without anyone present to hold him accountable, it's likely that this will get brushed aside as unnecessary drama, and the cycle will continue.

Unfortunately, as of writing this, the majority of those aware of the letter are no longer staff. Given CJ's active resistance and overall failure to honor promises made to his own team, making its contents public feels like the most effective way for me to ensure that everyone's effort hasn't been in vain.

As always, I wish Santae and its community all the best.

-- Lacilia

( Full transcript below the cut )

Staff Members of Santae Entertainment LLC.

Dear Management Head CJ, The present letter has the objective of opening communications regarding a series of events within the Santae Workspace. We as members of the Staff Team want to make an official petition to take these statements into consideration and open discussions to improve the workplace environment we have come to appreciate, all in order to continue making possible the growth of Santae.

Recently, we as staff members of Santae Entertainment have witnessed and experienced interactions that have been deemed as inappropriate or unprofessional. These interactions extend to staff members in Front-End and Back-End positions.

In order for us to continue providing service to Santae, we require an immediate acknowledgement and addressal of these eventualities, including a plan of action and the management of our workspace.

Issues of Note

Included are the concerns that Staff Members of diverse roles have reported not being handled in an appropriate manner for a work environment sharing the ideals of kindness, safety and unity as established by Santae. It is our hope that the acknowledgement of said events will open an opportunity to improve relations and foster a safe and professional environment for all Santae Staff Team members.

A. Frequent occasions of speaking ill or inappropriately about current and previous staff, site users and/or situations utilizing the designated Staff Server Voice Calls. As well as distasteful content being displayed in the shared Work Space, despite the vocalization of discomfort from multiple Staff Members.

Conversations on official Staff communication channels must remain professional and respectful, projecting an image of unity, while being mindful about social and historical backgrounds, ethnicity, race, identity and current sensitive global issues.

B. Concerns not being met with a professional or empathetic response, on the contrary, implying that expressing their uneasiness would foster an unsafe work environment, ultimately leading to members of the Staff feeling unheard. This is accompanied by the relaying of unclear terms, rules and regulations for Staff Team members that contradict or imply previous statements on said rules.

As Santae fosters values such as kindness, empathy and compassion, these same values must be represented within the private Staff spaces in order to create a safe work environment for every individual. Communication is essential for the best performance of their employees and therefore the correct functioning of the Santae Entertainment site both in private and public spaces.

C. Incidences of Staff and Users feeling that Management has previously or is currently utilizing resources, information, status or vulnerabilities in a way that elicits the individual into an emotional or moral disadvantage to argue or discuss issues openly. On a similar note, instances of Management insisting on conducting private conversations with Staff and Users after a discussion has been settled in public.

In order to promote a secure and equitable work environment, external factors to disagreements and conversations should not be taken into account unless specifically relevant to the resolution of said discussion. In a similar manner, private or sensitive information pertaining to any Staff member or User should not under any circumstances be distributed, displayed or relayed to any other Staff member or User without the former individual’s expressed written consent. As for an appropriate usage of the designated Staff communication channels, requesting private dialogue between staff without a mediator cannot be insisted on when it is expressed they are unwilling.

D. An incident involving multiple Staff Team members participating in an unrestricted Voice Call channel being spoken to in a manner that was deemed as disrespectful and severely harsh while in the presence of unrelated Staff Team members that were allowed to join the aforementioned call unimpeded, leading to shame and a posterior fearful environment.

We believe this to be the lead cause of reflection upon the conducts observed in Santae Entertainment’s workplace across an extended period of time, motivating the need to elicit change in order to keep operating in the most efficient, professional and adequate manner moving forward. Ideally, communications must be kept in a tone and volume that conveys respect in an omnidirectional way, benefiting the resolution of misunderstandings, mishaps and misinformation.

Suggestions and Future Improvements

The present Santae Staff cherishes the fellowship within its members, including that of the Management Head, and trusts that there is opportunity in hardship, guiding us in the search for a safer environment in which many of us find home. While changes are needed in order to improve current working conditions, the Santae Staff team is open and willing to collaborate in the proposition, development and implementation of the needed and/or requested measures written on this document or otherwise proposed by the Management Head, thus perpetuating the family values that Santae Entertainment holds as its core tenets.

The introduction of an HR Manager who acts as a mediator and impartial party between Staff and Head Management. Santae Staff will propose an interim HR Manager until a new, completely impartial external individual can be hired as fitting for both the Head Management and Staff requirements. We believe that a neutral ground would facilitate communications in the events of announcements, controversies, changes in reglament, management of Staff and resources, as well as scheduling and planification.

Reduce unnecessary private correspondence with Staff and Users, unless actively and enthusiastically consented to. Personal conflict should be handled through the HR Manager, who will arrange conversations between the appropriate Department Lead, the team Member/User, and Head Management. It is to be respected if any or both parties request a Mediator present in conversations taking place, all in order to ensure a secure, fair and respectful dialogue between both parties. This, at the same time, will foster a feeling of trust between all members of the Santae Staff Team.

Cease all distribution, relaying or display of private or sensitive information of any individual without their explicit written consent. This requirement is specially insisted upon as it is protected under various Data Protection Laws, including Federal US Law. We have trust that is in Santae Entertainment’s best interest to comply with such requirements.

Avoid introducing mentions of actions done magnanimously, status or vulnerabilities in irrelevant conversations on unrelated topics. With the objective of keeping communications clear and leveraged for all Staff members, it is important that the focus is kept on priority issues during conversations and discussions, separating personal and professional relationships in a healthy way.

All Staff and Management members must be addressed and referenced to in a respectful manner in all public channels and in private correspondence with other Staff Members. While we understand the existing trustworthy treatment between Staff members, it is important to remain cordial towards all individuals that are and have formed part of the Santae Staff team.

Staff Members should always operate in the chain of command in relation to official matters, unless there is a conflict with the direct next member of the chain, in which case they should address the next highest member in the chain. Management must allow Department Leads to operate as needed with only the necessary interference. This ensures that only verified and clear information is relayed between Departments and between members, avoiding miscommunication, controversies or escalating problematics.

Advances or bonus on Staff payment should be written and agreed to, signed by Santae Entertainment LCC and the next participating party. A signed agreement will ensure the safety of both parties and establish a reference point for future transactions.

Management is encouraged to allow an open, public conversation for Staff Members to discuss and suggest improvements to the structure and culture of the Santae Staff Team, with no fear of retaliation or punishment. We believe that great things are built in collaboration, and the unity Santae has projected in past occasions can shine again in the face of adversity.

We, as Santae Entertainment LCC Staff members, officially and formally request that these terms are met and that a betterment of the work environment is progressed upon in order to continue providing services by Front-End, Back-End, and other diverse Staff, some of which have preferred to remain anonymous. While we have trust that Management Head will take these claims into consideration as it is representative of Santae Entertainment’s core values, failure to hold this agreement on course would constitute a relapse of the previously stated consequences. We believe that the most appropriate way of addressing the present in order to keep transparency and trust is through a public written statement or action of similar fashion, avoiding the usage of unrecorded Voice Calls or private, unmediated channels.

We extend a sincere thanks while we work together to sort this issue.

Thank you beforehand for your involvement in the matter.

Sincerely,

Whixy ErmineLeader Gutshot Marceline Morrie Caligulas Endo LatteDragon Bastet Fritz Lacilia Treat Nymph

[herlondonboy]

metaphor, clarisse la rue

summary: nudes is a metaphor for love, but surely there are other way to express your feelings?

warnings: ITS NOT SEXUAL!!! it's 100% pg-13. DIOR IS 17, that's weird. nudes is a metaphor for love but reader doesn't get it. just says nudes a bunch. again, NOT SEXUAL.

wc: 1.1k

a/n: please tell me if this makes sense...

you share nudes when you trust someone deeply. it’s considered a high form of showing your love. allowing someone so far away to see you at your most vulnerable. it was what you did when you were in love, right?

did you understand it?

do you understand why, in a world painted with vulnerability, the exchange of nudes becomes a delicate dance of trust? each pixel, a brushstroke revealing the canvas of intimacy between two souls. as you bare your essence through the lens, it's not just skin on display; it's a testament to the trust woven into the fabric of your connection.

the subtle play of light and shadow mirrors the nuanced layers of your emotions, creating a mosaic of intimacy that transcends the physical. each shared image is a whispered promise, an unspoken pact that echoes the trust built brick by brick in the architecture of your relationship.

the digital realm transforms into a sanctuary where openness thrives, and the exchange of nudes becomes a metaphorical bridge connecting hearts. in the vulnerability of exposure, trust finds its strongest anchor, fostering a bond that withstands the test of time.

as you navigate the terrain of shared moments, the pixels become vessels of sincerity, encapsulating the essence of trust in a world where transparency is often obscured. nudes, in this verse, transcend mere visuals, becoming the language of trust that binds two souls in a symphony of shared vulnerability.

in the quiet corridors of your mind, scepticism echoes louder than the gentle whispers of trust. the metaphorical dance of nudes as a symbol of profound love seems like a concept too fantastical to grasp. as you navigate the digital landscape, you can't help but question the validity of such an intimate metaphor.

the canvas of your doubts is painted with shades of scepticism, and you find yourself hesitating at the threshold of vulnerability. the notion that sharing nudes could encapsulate the depth of love feels like a poetic exaggeration, a narrative spun by the romantic minds that may have overlooked the intricacies of real-life connections.

in the glow of your screen, you ponder the fragility of trust and whether pixels can truly translate into a language of profound emotions. the scepticism is a shield, a defence mechanism honed through years of navigating a world where trust is often elusive and fragile.

as you scroll through messages and shared images, you can't shake the nagging belief that love, true and unfiltered, transcends the digital realm. it's a sentiment anchored in tangible actions, shared experiences, and the messy, imperfect reality of human connection. nudes, you argue within yourself, can't possibly encapsulate the complexity of emotions that define genuine love.

so, no. you don’t understand it.

yet, even in your disbelief, a subtle curiosity lingers. perhaps there's a kernel of truth in the metaphor, a flicker of understanding waiting to be unearthed. as you continue to grapple with these thoughts, you find yourself at the crossroads of scepticism and the potential for a deeper understanding of the intricate dance between trust and love.

in the quiet moments of introspection, you wonder if embracing vulnerability in the digital realm could indeed be a bridge to a more profound connection.

then came along clarisse la rue.

she emerges as an unexpected muse, but your scepticism remains steadfast. the fiery connection you share with clarisse doesn't completely dissolve the doubts that linger around the metaphor of expressing love through shared nudes.

in the soft glow of your screen, your affection for clarisse grows, but you continue to believe that love transcends the digital realm. the metaphor, in your eyes, simplifies a complex spectrum of emotions into a narrow perspective. you yearn to express your love for clarisse through diverse channels, beyond the confines of shared images.

for you, love is a multi-dimensional tapestry, woven with actions, shared experiences, and genuine moments of connection. clarisse becomes the recipient of your affection, and you express your love through handwritten letters, spontaneous gestures, and the timeless art of conversation. the pixels on a screen, while a part of your journey, don't encapsulate the entirety of your feelings.

despite the depth of your emotions for clarisse, you remain unconvinced that exposing the vulnerable aspects of yourself through shared nudes is the pinnacle of trust and intimacy. your belief in the richness of diverse expressions of love becomes a testament to the complexity inherent in human connections.

you can show your vulnerability through your words.

inside the area cabin, you and clarisse found yourselves wrapped in the embrace of each other's presence. the soft rustle of leaves overhead provided a natural symphony as you both sat together, the moon casting its gentle glow upon your shared solitude.

as you stared into the distance, clarisse's voice broke the tranquil silence. "what are you thinking about?" she asked, curiosity lacing her words. the night air held a subtle chill, but the warmth of your connection created an invisible cocoon around both of you.

a thoughtful smile played on your lips, contemplating how to articulate the intricate thoughts dancing through your mind. you ended up just settling on a short, “nothin’.”

clarisse nodded, her eyes, filled with a depth of emotion, met yours. in that moment, her voice softened, carrying a weight of sincerity, "i love you infinitely."

the simplicity of those words held a profound impact, resonating with the unspoken understanding that had grown between you. a rush of warmth surged within you as you locked eyes with clarisse. in the quiet embrace of the night, you knew words were unnecessary— your hearts spoke a language more profound than any conversation could convey. than any picture could convey.

with a reciprocal smile, you reached for her hand, intertwining your fingers in a silent acknowledgement of the love that bound you together. the night seemed to stand still as the world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only the intimacy of the present moment.

"i love you too," you finally uttered, the words carrying a sense of completeness. with those three simple words, the unspoken thoughts and emotions found a voice, echoing through the stillness of the night. “i’ll love you for forever and a day.”

as the night continued its slow journey, you both lingered in each other's presence, finding solace in the depth of your connection. the world outside melted away, leaving only the shared heartbeat and the whispered promises of love exchanged beneath the celestial canopy. in the quietude of the night, you revelled in the beauty of a love that needed no explanation— it simply existed, profound and infinite.

in your own way.

[ilovenatasharomanoff2-0]

Can you please do a fic where there is angst and smut like scenario, Natasha is always busy with work and always ignoring R which lead them into an big argument and nat got a little bit carried away and slap R but then she realized what she has done and want to show R how much she loves her

Lately

Pairings: Intersex Natasha Romanoff x Fem reader

Warnings: Angst, cunnilingus, one tiny slap, idk, small? Mentions of Natasha having a dick

Word count: 2.2k

11:45.

11:45 was the time your girlfriend entered the city apartment. The atmosphere was dim and moody as all the lights had been turned off, except for the TV that illuminated the room with a random show in the background. As she entered, Natasha carefully placed her computer bag on the floor and slipped off her shoes before proceeding to the living room. She scanned the area, searching for a trace of your presence on the inviting white couches.

Not being able to find you Natasha finds the Tv remote and stops the show that's playing.

With a faint sigh escaping her lips, she takes a few steps down the dimly lit hallway, her heart pulsing with a mix of hope and trepidation. As she approaches the entrance to your shared bedroom, she can't help but wonder if you'll be there, awaiting her arrival with open arms. Natasha slowly turned the doorknob to the side to see your sleeping body on the mattress, a smile engulfing her face as she watched your body move up and down slowly.

She was happy to see you still in the bed. Your relationship had been rocky for the past two weeks. It took a toll on both of you in the long run.

Natasha made her way to the closet to change out of her uncomfortable work clothes. She opted for a comfortable compression shirt and cozy sweatpants. She returned to the bed and noticed that you were already resting peacefully. She quietly crawled into bed beside you, wrapping her arms around your warm body. The feeling of your presence gave her a sense of comfort and security that she desperately needed. These small moments of closeness were what she cherished most about being with you.

As you gradually stirred from your slumber a few hours later, you instinctively turned to your side and noticed the vacant space on your bed, prompting you to groan in disappointment. you quickly got out of bed and headed straight to the bathroom to begin your morning routine. You meticulously brushed your teeth and hair, feeling revitalized and refreshed. Splashing some cold water on your face, you headed out of the room to try and find Natasha.

After a couple minutes of trying to find her, you see her in the home gym she designed for you two. She was wearing a White wife beater and blue Nike tracksuit pants. Natasha was doing pushups with the workout video displayed on the Tv in the room.

You slowly enter the room, pushing the transparent door open and looking down at her.

"Where were you last night." You ask her, with a serious tone, not being happy with her at the moment.

"Oh, I was still at work. Fury gave me more paperwork to do as soon as I was packing to go home. I'm so sorry baby." She replies, looking back at where you were and standing up to go and hug you.

You scoot back from the hug and look up at her face. "Natasha, i'm always so sick of you never being here. You know it affects me too, right?" You ask her, your eyes tearing up because you missed her so much.

"Yes- I know that y/n. it affects me too, you're not the only one getting hurt by it." Natasha responds back to you, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes.

"You know, why are we even fighting right now y/n? It's 8:37 in the fucking morning y/n. 8:37!" She says to you, walking away to go take the weights off of the barbell she was using.

"I don't know Natasha - maybe it's because I miss my girlfriend, but she's never here when I need her the most." You say back to her, covering your face with your hands and letting out a frustrated sigh.

"Well, I honestly don't know what the fuck you want me to do y/n. Do you wanna go talk to fury for me? Tell him to cut back my fucking hours at work? Huh?" She asks, anger building up in her voice as she drops the weight, she was holding to look at you.

"Are you even listening to me right now Natasha!?" You tell her, a small smile coming over your face as you were in disbelief with what she was saying.

"Are you even listening to me y/n? I love you and I do want to spend time with you, I do. I just - don't know what you want me to fucking do." She yells back at you, walking a little closer to your body and standing infront of you.

"It's not that hard to do what i'm asking Natasha. To spend time with me? Okay yes, maybe I do want you to come home early one day. What's wrong with that? You're literally gone for so many days of the week and i'm always here wondering about how you are, if you're okay, worrying over you. And then when you do come home, I never get to see you - spend time with you! It's not fair Natasha." You yell back out to her, tears falling down from your eyes now.

"And you know what Nat-"

You were cut off when you felt a stinging sensation come over your face. Your hand immediately going to touch the skin that had been touched.

"What the fuck Natasha." You tell her, your eyes widening as you looked up at her once more. The skin now turning red from where her hand made impact.

"Y/n I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it. Please I'm sorry." She says before bringing you close to her body. Her eyes watering up thinking of what she just did. You didn't hug her back, you couldn't.

"No Natasha what the actual fuck is wrong with you?" You ask her as you walk away to the door.

"Wait-Where are you going y/n? Please, I'm sorry y/n."

"I'm gonna go stay at Wanda's for a few days Natasha." As you spoke to her, tears streamed down your face and you had to pause to catch your breath between each word. Leaving the gym to go pack a bag.

Natasha stood still in the now quiet gym, her mind consumed with thoughts about the recent events that had just transpired. The weight of her actions seemed to weigh heavily upon her heart, and a solitary tear trickled down her cheek. She never intended to cause any harm to you, and the realization of what she had done filled her with disgust and remorse.

You on the other hand got a random bag you found in your shared closet and threw some clothes In there. You already texted Wanda about what had happened between you and Natasha. Once you were done packing you immediately left through the front door, grabbing the car keys off of the accent table and unlocking the car.

After the incident with Natasha, you sat in the car, completely motionless. Tears flowed down your face, and you couldn't help but feel hurt by her actions. Although you knew she didn't mean to hurt you, you couldn't understand why she acted the way she did. Being around her at that moment was an unsettling experience, and you couldn't shake off the feeling.

"Shh, it's okay y/n. I promise." Wanda tells you, holding you close as you cry in her arms.

"I-I just don't understand Wanda!" You seem to convey to her, lifting your head to meet her gaze. Your eyes are swollen and discolored due to the extensive amount of crying you have gone through.

"I think she really is sorry y/n. She keeps on texting you and trying to call you. I know Natasha would never want to hurt you on purpose, y/n/n."

"I know, I know. I don't know what to say to her after that."

"Well, stay here for a couple hours, huh? We can watch some movies and order some, okay? But you have to talk to her y/n.

After quiet contemplation, you slowly and carefully shift your weight, gently lifting yourself off Wanda's body. As she rises from her bed calmly, she extends a compassionate hand towards you, guiding you towards her bathroom. She helps you delicately wash your face, ridding it of any traces of stubborn, dried mascara that stubbornly clung to your delicate skin.

-

"Feeling better?" She asks you, playing with your hair on the couch.

"Mhm. I'm gonna start heading out Wands." You tell her, shifting from your comfy position on her couch.

"You want me to walk you out?"

"No, it's okay; thank you so much, Wanda. I'll text you later.

"Of course, Y/n. It's gonna be okay, I swear.

As you leave Wanda's house, you lower your head and take a slow stride toward your vehicle. The memory of Natasha invades your thoughts, causing a wave of longing to wash over you. You can't help but admit that you miss her dearly, despite the difficulty in comprehending her actions.

As you approach the entrance of your shared apartment, you can feel your heart rate increase as nervousness courses through your body. Your gaze shifts down towards your phone, noting the time displayed: 9:34. As you unlock the screen, you are greeted with a barrage of missed calls and messages from Natasha, causing your attention to shift towards the digital notification center.

With a heavy sigh, you inhale deeply before grasping the key that had unlocked the door and stepping inside. As soon as you entered, you noticed Natasha sitting at the bar, her delicate frame perched on a high stool. Her hands were clasped on her head as if deep in thought, and she looked up as soon as she sensed your presence.

"Y/n?" She asks to you. Her face was filled with red. You could tell that she had been crying a lot.

You remained silent, your body motionless in the hallway.

"I, I'm so sorry y/n. Please."Natasha approached you with a hint of distress in her demeanor. Her arms wrapped around your frame as she drew nearer, seeking comfort and solace. In response, your arms naturally embraced her, offering a reassuring and supportive presence.

"Please y/n."

"I know it was an accident, Natasha; it's okay, Nat, I forgive you."

You perceive the sound of Natasha's sniffles and experience a dampness on your shoulder caused by her tears.

"I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you, baby, please." Natasha continues to weep inconsolably while you offer a comforting embrace. Your gentle touch caresses her back in soothing circular motions, providing a sense of relief from her emotional pain.

"Natasha, you're crying in my arms right now."

"N-no, please."

Before you can respond Natasha starts kissing up your neck. A low moan escapes your mouth.

"Nat."

She quickly drops to her knees and pulls down your sweatpants. She kisses up your thighs, her fingers making their way to your clothed clit. Rubbing the sensitive muscle slowly.

"Please let me show you how much I love you. Please y/n."

"Mmm-okay..." You tell her, Natasha takes that as her sign and pulls down your lace panties. You were already soaking wet. A grunt leaves Natasha's mouth as she moves her face to your cunt. She sticks her tongue out for a second before licking your folds. One of her hands returns to your clit and starts rubbing again, this time faster.

"Natasha!" You moan out, your hands coming to meet her head. Taking a hand full of red hair and pushing her closer to your cunt. Natasha lets a small whine and pushes her nose beneath the hood of your clit. She shakes her head left and right, moaning at how you taste.

She starts to move her hips back and forth, humping the air. Her cock grows each time she hears one of your pretty moans. The hand holding your thigh moves down to her loose boxers. She quickly grabs her cock and moves her hand up and down, wanting to release it whenever you do.

"Feels so good, Nat, mm!" Your head was thrown back as your hands gripped her hair harder.

"Could e-eat you out all day."

"Fuck! Natasha, I'm so close." You moan out to her, her finger stimulating your clit moves even faster. Her head moves closer to your cunt. Her grunts and groans add to your stimulation.

She's lost in eating your pussy. Her hips move faster, and so does her hand, a sign that she's also close.

"Gonna cum!" Your hips buck into her face. The finger on your clit moves to your hips to keep them stable. Natasha's hand moves faster and faster in her boxers. Loud grunts leave her mouth as she looks up at you, your face contorted in pleasure.

With one more guttural moan, you come undone on Natasha's tongue. A whine erupts from her mouth as she shoots her cum in her boxers simultaneously with you.

She pulls her face away from your cunt. The bottom half of her face is filled with your juices. Her full face is covered in red. The silent room is filled with your loud breaths.

"Fuck, come here."