#bottom right: ‘are we done yet?’

[pickaropoprocks]

Day 96!! Deltarune TODAY!!

[crossbackpoke-check]

Looks like that video is about a month & a half after The Trade and trevors broken ankle 😣

re: this video… anon 😭 i had suspicions but it is so much worse to have them confirmed that really was like. trevor’s first Public Appearance without jamie AND post-broken ankle which is traumatic in and of itself no wonder every beat reporter was like ‘oh yeah trevor’s just devastated’

wouldn’t you be miserable too if your best friend just got traded and your body betrayed you and what if it was maybe all your fault!!!

[yasministration]

time and place - spencer reid

summary: two attractive fbi agents interrupt your pool party to ask about your father - bummer right? wrong. wc: 1.2k+

The scorching summer sun was pining against the team to solve this case. Any more time outside and they would either catch a heatstroke or give up entirely. Hotch tugged at the collar around his neck, sweat seeping into its expensive fabric. It was difficult to breath in this heat, and the stress of the situation only made things worse.

He stood with Reid outside a suspect’s house, hearing the doorbell echo from inside the house. Hotch furrowed his eyebrows, unable to hear any sound from inside the house, but loud giggles distracted him from its emptiness. The noise seemed to be coming from the backyard, Hotch figured, just in time for a soothing voice to call out “Hello?”

Both Hotch and Reid’s heads snapped towards the sound, coming from the side of the house. Above the gate leading into the backyard, you propped yourself up using your elbows, feet dangling above the ground as you peeked around the house, trying to see who was there.

The two men walked towards you, immediately scanning your appearance. Water decorated your skin, glistening in the sun, your hair soaked, resembling a siren. You wore a small bikini top, and the two profilers immediately figured you didn’t want to drag water across the house.

Spencer squinted slightly, eyes weak against the sun. “Hi,” Hotch started, walking over to the gate alongside Spencer. “I’m supervisory special agent Hotchner, this is Doctor Reid, we’re from the FBI.” A small frown overtook your features and you hopped down from the gate, completely disappearing from the two agents’ view.

A metal clatter filled their ears as you unlocked the gate, swinging it open to stand before the two tall men. Spencer gulped as you came into view, so pretty, so innocent, but with eyes fully trained on Hotch, head tilted to the side as you echoed “FBI?”

Hotch nodded, respectfully looking away from your half-naked, bikini clad form, keeping his eyes glued to your face. You shifted on the warm grass underneath your feet, brushing your hair away from your face.

A loud call of your name came from the backyard, and you turned around, yelling back to your friends. “Give me two minutes!” Neither of the two men could help their gaze from dropping to your ass, barely covered by the flimsy material of your bikini bottoms.

“Sorry about that. FBI?”

Hotch nodded, clearing his throat. “We’re looking for Johnny Hall. We have reason to believe he may be involved with our investigation.” Your scoff surprised them, and Spencer lifted his sunglasses from his eyes to see you better. “That’s my dad. He’s at work, probably hooking up with his secretary right now. If you don't find him there, he'll be at The Den — that bar on the edge of town.”

Hotch nodded, fishing his phone from his pocket and dialling Garcia’s number. Finally, your eyes trailed over to look at Spencer — really look at him. He was cute, and not much older than you. An FBI agent. Cocking your head to the side, you leaned against the gate, humming attentively. “Aren’t you a little young to be part of the FBI? To be a doctor?”

“I, uh, graduated early.”

“So what’s your PhD in?” You questioned, raising your eyebrows at him, glancing back at Agent Hotchner, busy on the phone. Spencer caught the slight movement; you didn’t want Hotch to be done with his phone call just yet.

“Well, well I actually have three. One in mathematics, chemistry and engineering.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, crossing your arms together, pushing your breasts together, which attracted the genius’ poor gaze down to your them. From the look on your face, he expected the curious tone in your voice when you asked “And that got you into the FBI?”

Spencer tore his gaze away from your tits, but made the mistake of looking down at the rest of your body. His eyes scanned over the curve of your waist, the fat of your thighs. He gulped thickly. You were beautiful.

“You gonna answer the question, or continue to stare, doctor?” Spencer’s breath hitched in his throat, and he forced his eyes back up to meet yours. You seemed amused, however not in the least surprised that he was staring. You must have been used to male attention, Spencer figured.

“Um, no, I have bachelors in psychology and sociology too. Are you- are you in university?” Nodding with a smile, you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. “I’m studying law and public health on a scholarship.”

Spencer spluttered, his eyes going wide. Not only were you one of the most gorgeous women he had ever seen, but an academic too? Studying law?

“You know, 96% of law students face significant stress levels, which is even higher than students studying medicine. So it’s really important to have a good work-life balance, to increase your mental health.” Nodding slowly, you didn’t bother hiding the small chuckle that escaped you at the statistics. “Okay. And how do you suggest I do that?”

“Well, spending time with friends, like I assume you’re doing today can help, as long as they don’t bring on more stress to you. That’s why it’s good to have friends outside of your own degree.”

“Do friends include boyfriends too?”

Spencer deflated at your question, averting his gaze from you. “Ye-yeah, of course!”

“So how about you take me out sometime, Doctor Reid?” His head snapped back towards you, his mouth parting in shock at the flirtatious smile on your face. “Might help destress me.” You continued, dragging your eyes down his body with a smirk tugging at your lips. You made a point to train your eyes onto his crotch for a couple of seconds before looking back up towards his face and licking your lips.

When Spencer didn’t answer, too flustered to form incoherent words, you took a few steps towards him, tugging his notepad out from between the waistband of his trousers and his leather belt. Hotchner paused from where he held his phone close to his ear, staring at you in interest, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as you noted down your number on the yellow paper.

“For when you make a decision.” You mumbled, pressing the notepad to Spencer’s chest. One of his hands came up to press against the notepad to keep it snug against him as you pulled your hand away.

“Reid,” The agent turned at the sound of his boss, perking up slightly. He nodded his head towards him, and as though remembering that your father was a suspect in their case, raced away from you towards Hotch. “Let’s go. Thank you for your co-operation.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes trained on the two agents until the car doors closed behind them. It was only later that night, when you got out of the much needed post-pool shower, that your phone buzzed with the alert of a new message. Your dad was safely in his room — not the suspect the two agents had been looking for this morning. You assumed that was why Doctor Reid had messaged you now.

No guilt of dating a serial killer’s daughter.

‘Hi. This is Doctor Spencer Reid from this morning. I would like to take you up on that offer to take you out to dinner sometime. It’s completely fine if you’ve changed your mind! In that case, just ignore this message.’

Giggling to yourself, you hopped onto your bed, kicking your feet behind you.

‘Now why would I ignore anything from your pretty mouth, doc? Time and place, I’ll be there.’

[moondustbaby]

Backseat Confessions

bsf!Rafe x bsf!Reader

cw: smut, piv, oral (f. rec), unprotected sex

mdni 18+

Summary: A late-night drive with your best friend turns into something filthy and unforgettable when years of tension finally snap in the backseat of his truck and Rafe makes it clear he’s done pretending you’re just friends.

⸻

The truck was too quiet.

Engine ticking softly in the heat-soaked silence, windows cracked just enough to let in the summer air. My thighs stuck to the leather of the passenger seat as I shifted, trying to ignore the way Rafe kept glancing at me every few seconds — like he was waiting.

Like he knew.

We hadn’t even planned to go anywhere. Just ended up driving around after the bonfire like we always did, the two of us laughing too loud, avoiding the weight of everything that hung heavy in the pauses. His music low, my feet on the dash. Same routine we’ve had since we were sixteen.

But tonight was different.

“Why’re you all quiet now?” Rafe’s voice cut through the stillness, low and cocky. “You were talkin’ my ear off ten minutes ago.”

I glanced at him, heart ticking faster. “I’m not quiet.”

He smirked like he didn’t believe me. One hand on the wheel, the other resting on the console — close enough to touch. “Yeah, you are. You only get quiet when you’re thinking about doing something you shouldn’t.”

I swallowed hard. “Do you always have to say shit like that?”

He leaned back in his seat, turning his head to look at me fully now. That lazy grin. That look in his eyes — like he was already inside my head and had no plans of leaving.

“What, am I wrong?” His voice dropped. “Tell me I’m wrong, baby.”

I hated the way he said that. Baby. Like it meant nothing and everything at once. Like it was some inside joke between us and I was the only one laughing nervously at the punchline.

I looked out the window. “You think you know everything.”

“I know you.”

The air thickened.

“You been squirming in that seat since we left the party. Wearing that little dress—” he dragged his tongue over his bottom lip. “Knew I shouldn’t’ve let you leave the house lookin’ like that.”

I turned to him slowly. “Let me?”

His smirk widened. “You know what I mean. All those guys staring at you and you still ran back to me the second it was over. Wonder why that is.”

I hated how much I loved hearing it — the me in his voice, all cocky and territorial. I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to.

Rafe leaned closer, voice low and dirty. “Bet you’re soaked, aren’t you?”

I choked on my breath.

His hand slid across the seat and landed on my bare thigh, hot and possessive. “C’mon, don’t lie to me now. You been sittin’ over there all quiet, all flustered — got that look on your face like you want me to do something about it.”

“You’re not serious.”

His hand crept higher.

I shivered when his fingertips brushed beneath the hem of my dress. He raised a brow, daring me to stop him — knowing I wouldn’t.

“You gonna make me check for myself?”

God, he was filthy. Shameless and smug, and I loved it. Loved the way he looked at me like I was his even if we’d never said the words out loud. Not just friends, not yet lovers. Just two people tangled in something too hot to name.

“You’re all talk,” I muttered.

That did it.

Rafe shifted fast, climbing over the console with zero hesitation, forcing me back against the door as his mouth crashed into mine. Hot. Desperate. Possessive.

I gasped when his hand cupped me over my panties, his thumb pressing right where I needed it. “Yeah?” he growled against my mouth. “Still think I’m all talk now?”

“Fuck—Rafe—”

His fingers moved with purpose, slow and taunting. “You wore this little dress just to tease me, didn’t you?” His lips trailed down my jaw. “Knew you weren’t wearing a bra the second I looked at you.”

I whimpered when he pinched my nipple through the fabric, making me arch into his touch.

“Look at you,” he whispered. “Always actin’ like you don’t want me, then you let me touch you like this. So fuckin’ easy for me.”

“You’re such an asshole,” I breathed.

He smirked. “Still lettin’ me feel how wet you are, though.”

He slid my panties to the side and dipped two fingers into me in one slow, slick motion. I gasped, nails digging into his arm.

“That’s it,” he murmured, curling them just right. “So fuckin’ tight. Been thinking about this for months. You have no idea.”

“Then why didn’t you do something?” I whispered, breath shaky as he fucked me slow with his fingers.

“Didn’t wanna ruin it.” His mouth found my neck, tongue dragging over my pulse. “Didn’t wanna fuck it up.”

“You already did,” I moaned. “The second you touched me.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I breathed.

He pulled his fingers out and sucked them clean, slow and filthy, eyes locked on mine the whole time.

“Backseat. Now.”

My whole body jolted.

I scrambled clumsily into the back as he shoved the front seats forward, watching me with hooded eyes and a grin like he’d won a prize. By the time I sat back against the door, he was already between my knees, tugging my dress up, dragging my panties down and tossing them somewhere in the dark cab.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he muttered, pressing open-mouth kisses to the inside of my thigh. “How fuckin’ long I’ve been dreaming about this exact moment.”

I bit my lip as he licked a stripe up my center, slow and possessive. “Rafe—”

“Say it,” he growled. “Say you’ve thought about it too.”

“I have,” I gasped. “God, I have—”

“Say it.”

“I think about you all the time,” I confessed, panting. “When I’m alone. When I’m—fuck—when I touch myself, it’s only ever you.”

That made him snap.

He dove in, tongue working me over like he was starved, moaning against me like the taste of me was his new religion. I cried out when he sucked on my clit, when his fingers slid back inside me and curled just right.

“I’m gonna come—”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t let up until I was shaking, legs clenching around his head, hands fisting in his hair as I came hard against his mouth.

When he pulled back, his face was flushed and wet and smug. “So fuckin’ pretty when you come for me.”

He undid his belt with one hand, the other stroking himself slow as he watched me come down from it. He was thick. Hard. Leaking at the tip.

“C’mere,” I whispered, already reaching for him.

“You sure?”

“Rafe,” I breathed. “Please.”

Instead he pulled me onto his lap, my knees bracketing his hips as I lowered onto him inch by inch. The stretch made me gasp, made him groan.

“Fuck—so tight—so fuckin’ wet for me—”

When I sank all the way down, our foreheads touched, breath mingling.

He didn’t move right away. Just held me there, his hands on my waist, his chest rising and falling like he couldn’t believe this was real.

“You feel like heaven,” he whispered.

I kissed him soft, slow, until he started to move — thrusting up while I rode him hard enough to make the whole truck rock. The windows fogged. The air turned thick with moans and skin and gasped confessions.

“Fuck—fuck, you were made for me,” Rafe grunted, fucking up into me harder. “No one else gets to see you like this. No one else touches you like this, you understand?”

“Yes—Rafe—please—”

He pulled my dress down to free my tits, sucking one into his mouth, then the other, moaning around them like he was worshipping me.

“Gonna fill you up,” he gasped. “Gonna come so deep inside this pussy you’ll feel me for days.”

“Do it,” I whispered, clawing at his shoulders. “Come in me, Rafe, please—”

He growled and fucked me faster, rougher, until my vision blurred and I was coming again, crying out his name as he spilled inside me with a curse and a moan that sounded like ‘mine’.

We stayed like that, panting, trembling, stuck together in the heat and sweat and quiet.

Then he kissed my shoulder. My collarbone. My mouth.

“You ruined me,” he whispered. “There’s no going back now.”

“I don’t want to.”

He smiled against my lips. “Good. ‘Cause you’re mine now.”

And I knew — with the way his arms locked around me and his come still dripping down my thighs — that I’d never belong to anyone else again.

༶⋆｡ﾟ☽✿⋆˚✧✿☾ﾟ｡⋆༶

a/n: this fic is brought to you by sexual tension, a hot truck, and the complete inability to act like normal best friends. rafe went feral and honestly? good for him. if your bsf isn’t fingering you in the passenger seat while saying insane shit like “you’re mine now,” what’s the point. thank you to my brain for cooking this up at 2am and thank YOU for reading my backseat filth.

♥️ lani

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𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉:

@psychicnatural @superlegend216

[justevelynnnn]

Mark talking you through it

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Fem!reader

Summary: Mark takes your virginity and talks you through it

Warnings: Smut smutty smut, dirty talk, reader is afab, virginity loss, some profanity

A/N: i have so many ideas and things in the works but so little time 😭 also it’s exam season…but i have a duty to keep y’all fed so enjoy this crumb for now (sorry it’s short!)

You had never done anything like this before.

All the sensations and touches and feelings were new to you. A lot of it felt amazing.. his hands, big and calloused from fighting, were gentle on your bare skin. He was very attentive to how you reacted to everything.

It was after a homecoming game.

He’d forced the guardians to cover for him if anything came up and decided to spend the night with you. It was great especially given that you could finally spend time with him. You didn’t care what you two did. Sometimes you guys binged a show, other times it was a simple walk around campus or a park…

As long as you got to be with him.

However, this particular night after the game you two ended up making out and naked on his bed. It wasn’t big, just a twin xl like all the other dorms, but it was enough for you both. A bed’s a bed after all. He was experienced, at least from what you could tell. He didn’t seem too nervous or shy even.

He moved with confidence, but still asking for consent with everything before he actually did it. It was a bit cute but you truly admired that about him.

Everything was going great until you really looked at him…down there, and something in your head made you freak out.

He was actually kind of big, at least bigger than you expected, and that thick vein running up the side wasn’t helping calm your nerves either.

“Will that even fit?”, You whispered looking down. You looked into his eyes a bit worried. Your legs also close, but you did that unconsciously.

“I’ll go slow..” He kissed you gently, looking back into your eyes with a soft expression and a hand caressing your cheek. “And we can stop if it gets to be too much. Promise.”

You just nod and wrapped your arms around his neck as he positioned himself between your legs. You knew he was strong but sometimes you forgot exactly how strong. It wasn’t big something about the way he pushed your legs open and how a hand held your hip in place…

You quickly snapped out of thought as you felt his head push against your slick entrance while simultaneously brushing gently against your clit. He teased a bit so he could gather some of the wetness to coat himself for an easier slide inside. It already felt so good and he wasn’t even in you yet.

Then, he slowly pushed inside.

It was painful, and a stretch, too. Even going slow you had to stop him when he was halfway in to get used to him, a shaky hand pressing against his hardened abs. He peppered your face with kisses in the meantime until it started feeling okay. Then “okay” slowly became fucking amazing.

His size was still a bit much though, but god did he talk you through it.

It was getting overwhelming quick as he slowly thrusted and his strong arms caged you in. And, he just filled you up so good all you could do was whine and moan. It became so much that you started to cry a bit from the pleasure.

“I know baby, i know.” Mark whispered close to your ear. His voice was breathy and husky now. “I’m right here.. You feel so good. Fuck—, so fucking good baby..”

You couldn’t respond.

Not even if you wanted to.

As he bottomed you out and started picking up his pace all you could do was say his name over and over.

“You’re taking me so well. I knew you could do it, so proud of you…” He groaned while kissing your neck. He said you looked pretty under him too but you could barely hear that part as you were so focused on how good it felt.

The bed stared squeaking louder as he was getting close with you not far behind but you knew he wouldn’t finish before you. The second he started huskily telling you to let go and “finish all over him” it was over.

“That’s my pretty girl. So good for me.” He cooed. He held you by your sides as you came even gently still thrusting to add to it.

And even after he pulled out and finished on your stomach and thighs he was still saying filthy things.

“Look at you, so pretty even all messed up like this..”

That sock never came off that door that night.

[urprettylildoe]

𝒮𝒽𝒶𝒸𝓀𝓁ℯ𝒹

♡ yandere football player x fem reader ♡ Every girl wanted to be with him and every guy wanted to be him, and to everyone around the world he was considered the embodiment of perfection. But there's more to what meets the eye, and you're one of the only people who know that very well. ♡ word count: 1.9k words ♡ warnings: yandere/obsessive behaviour, dependency, toxic relationship, kidnapping, attempted drugging, very brief and implied self-harm, nsfw (non-con)

His team had won yet again.

Critics weren't just analysing the performance itself but one particular figure that always made his presence known; whether it was deliberate or natural.

Looks, money, charisma, talent; what characteristic didn't the renowned football star possess?

Blake's motivator was his love for things that kept him on his toes and sent a rush of excitement through his veins.

The constant chanting of his name from the crowds was like music to his ears. He waved and shot them a pretty smile adorned with dimples that would surely make magazine covers.

Cameras zoomed in on each of the team players as they walked out of the field. Pushing the hair out of his eyes, he stared into the camera.

The world out there didn't know that it was reserved for one particular person, and they knew who they were.

A message.

I know you're watching.

♡

"And how do you feel about today's performance?" The lady smiled almost too brightly, holding the microphone up towards him.

"I think we gave it our all today and I couldn't have done without my team," he enthusiastically recited as if he hadn't been practising with his manager for the perfect PR response to the questions. Blake was a natural in front of the camera — he threw in some jokes and made sure to flash those pearly whites every now and then.

The interviewer chuckled, "Oh please, don't be so modest. You were amazing out there, Blake. Give yourself some credit, will ya?"

A few more minutes passed with them going back and forth before he was finally asked million dollar question:

"so, we're all dying to know, any relationship updates we should be aware of?"

For a split second, his flawless facade cracked and his smile faltered, his jaw ticking with something unpleasant. Then, almost as if nothing happened, his expression turned carefully neutral and he maintained a polite smile, "my personal life is just that, personal."

Translation: i'm not answering that. In any other situation, he'd have no problem saying it directly, but he'd rather not listen to his agent talking his ear off about it later.

But the woman obviously did not pick up on the implication and if she did, she didn't mention it. Instead, she leaned in and brushed her hand against his bicep at an attempt of subtle flirting, "Oh, come on. You're one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. Surely there's someone special in your life?"

He feigned embarrassment rather than expressing his anger and scratched the back of his head, "you're really putting me on the spot here." He paused, then added, "i'm just focused on my career at the moment. And as they say, good things come to those who wait, right?"

His answer shut the interviewer down and the last line did have some truth to it. Patience is a virtue.

♡

Pushing the bathroom door open, his hands gripped one of the sinks and he took a moment to calm his nerves.

They don't know. They don't know. It's okay.

His gaze dropped to the scar marring his otherwise perfect skin in the mirror, right under his bottom lip. Yet, instead of frustration like his manager had expressed with utter disappointment, warmth he was all too familiar with fluttered in his chest.

This was no burden, but a gift from his favourite little songbird after one of her many tantrums of be let out of the golden cage. Though it is a hassle to calm her back down, he did cherish the mark imprinted on his skin.

Blake tutted, eyes narrowing as he scrutinised it further. It was fading; he'll need to fix that up soon enough.

He shrugged on a jacket and drove home in his sleek car, ready to finally relax. The day drained him of all his energy.

Or perhaps it didn't, because when he reached his home, all of the anger bubbled up to the surface. Patience was not a virtue, because his had reached its limit because of a certain dove.

♡

Tonight was the night.

The night where you would finally be free of the shackles that bound you to that horrible, horrible man.

Blake.

To his fans and the world, he's a passionate and talented athlete. To you? He's a monster. One that stripped you off everything you've known, one that kept you for his selfish desires, one that held a warped version of 'love' in his heart.

You wanted to flee. Not even tell the police, just run far, far away where he couldn't reach you, where you would be your own person and not some pretty ornament he'd come home to admire every day.

Sanity hanging by a thread, you slipped down the marble stairs in just your socks and cute pajamas. Any captive should have injuries and tattered clothes. Except, your captor wasn't normal. And while you didn't have any physical injuries, you were still hurt.

You were supposed to be asleep, if everything went according to his plan (which usually did). The opportunity was too good to pass up; he was leaving for a match for hours. When he had given you the pill with a fond smile, you returned it and made an act of swallowing, all while keeping it under your tongue. The doors were locked due to his paranoia so you couldn't escape through there. Not to mention your hands and feet were tied, so you spent time on those too.

Finally, the makeshift rope was ready. Hours of twisting bedsheets together finally paid off and now you were ready.

One look out the window and you were already nauseous. It was such a high drop and you weren't willing to die, not yet at least. The rope tumbled down till it nearly reached the bottom, only a few feet off the garden grounds.

In and out. Nothing is going to happen.

Wrapping your limbs around the clothing, your hands clenched around it. Your eyes closed and you let yourself slide. Breathing fresh air felt true bliss, like this was your first time.

When you reached the bottom, your knees trembled with the gravity of what's going on. The closest thing you let out to a relieved sigh was a choked sound out of your throat.

You were free. You. Were. Free.

No more punishments, no more suffering, no more of his constricting love, no more-

maniacal laughter rings through the air sharply, making you halt. No.

You'd recognise it anywhere, even if you didn't want to.

"Wow, I leave for a few hours and come back to this?" He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye in amusement, though you caught a vein in his forehead throbbing. "You surprise me every time, baby. Though I gotta admit i'm a little...hurt."

Your heart stopped and you took a step back, whipping around to face him. Such beauty he had, but so undeserving of it. Your nails had dug blood out of your palms, making them dully ache however not as deep as his confessions of 'love' would pierce your heart.

He didn't have nothing in that chest but rotting flesh.

"Now, now, none of that." He grinned as he followed your steps with his longer, stronger legs and you could only pray that he showed mercy. "You really didn't think you'd get away, did you? You truly do underestimate the lengths I'd go for you.

I give you the most beautiful home, the finest foods — my love. And this is how you repay? By running away from me? From us?"

His voice progressively got louder with each word. You really pushed him to the limits.

"I-I'm sorry-"

Cutting you off, large hands shaky with barely concealed raged cluched either sides of your head, "shh, I know you are. But sorry isn't enough anymore."

It wasn't a normal, torturous kind of punishment — no, you wished it was. You wondered if falling from the window was a better fate than this.

His voice softened at your sniffles, almost as if he was comforting you, shielding from a danger that nothing seemed to poise but him. "Hey, hey, don't cry. C'mon, my dove. If you're good, I won't go too hard on you."

Cries spilled past your lips, begging him that you were sorry and that you weren't going to do it again.

And really, you were never going to. Not after what he did to you afterwards.

You were reduced to a small ball to shivers and hiccups underneath Blake on the soft, fluid-stained sheets. The pink sleepwear was discarded on the floor. Equally bare, his muscles from all the training were on display. He was now beaming affectionately as he watched your tuckered out expression.

This wasn't the first time you've been violated, obviously. But this time it felt worse, like the pain of reality came crashing down on you like a tsunami ten times harder than before. It didn't help that he kept on whispering sweet threats in your ear.

He had branded your skin roughly and taken you, only to cradle you gently with a lover's touch. The drug he had injected you with made you a willing participant in his game, made you ache with desire for the one being you wanted to hate.

You slurred like a broken record, unsure of what was even going on anymore, "m'sorry, I didn't mean to...hic"

"It's okay, it's okay" he sang softly, brushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes, "y'know punishing you hurts me more than it does you, but I had to do this, you were trying to leave me, sweet thing."

A small, hidden part of you still wanted to fight for your freedom, to save yourself.

"you're so silly, thinking anyone would believe you if you ran away." He cooed, peppering loving kisses all over your face.

You closed your eyes and weakly whimpered. They would believe you, they would. Wouldn't they?

"Sometimes, the thoughts become too much for that pretty little head, don't they? You can't possible take all of it at once. But that's why i'm here. To protect you from every bad thing in the world."

His hand cupped your cheek as he tilted his head down, pressing his lips against your forehead, "I'll give you the world. Just — promise not to leave me again"

The sentences tumbling out his mouth just made you feel even more horrible.

You were broken. You had tried to convince yourself otherwise, but it was all in vain. He had shattered you into pieces and rebuilt you to fit his preferences. If you looked into the mirror right now, you don't think you would recognise yourself.

Maybe he was right. Maybe you weren't cut out for the world, maybe there were dangerous things out to get you, maybe safety was in his arms.

"Rest, i'll take care of you"

You let your eyes droop shut. Yeah, that sounded about right. He'll take care of you.

Once you finally nestled against the comfort of his chest with tiny snores, was he finally able to celebrate another accomplishment. He can't remember the last time he didn't have something he wanted, even if his beautiful dove was putting up a fight against him.

♡

Copyright © 2025 urprettylildoe. All rights reserved.

Yours truly,

@urprettylildoe

[eternallyhauntingthehouseoflove]

Bruce Wayne had you on your knees between his spread thighs, his fingers threaded through your hair. “Behave,” Bruce commanded before pressing his thumb down onto the pad of your pink tongue, testing your gag reflex. Always experimenting, always testing and tweaking. “I see you’ve been practicing the pharyngeal exercises I’ve provided. You didn’t even gag this time,” he murmured, more-so to himself, though the soft smirk that crawled onto his lips was for you. Satisfaction shimmered in his naturally icy gaze. His thumb traced the curve of your bottom lip. “Impressive. Well done, honey.”

The affectionate name was a nice touch, right? Right? Or was it too. . old-fashioned? Or worse, was he too forward and made himself look like a desperate creep?

“You look exquisite on your knees. Beautiful, like a painting.” *Not trashy or filthy, but elegant and tasteful,* Bruce had nearly added, but he understood how the words could be received coming from the lips of a wealthy white man.

(I was ovulating when I hurried and threw this together lmao)

. . . That’s how you’d ended up stuffed full of Bruce Wayne’s cock, bent over the examination table of his home lab, his hand fisted in the hair at the nape of your neck. He analyzed your facial expressions, every twitch and moan, in your reflection off the metal equipment.

Chest to back, he panted against your ear, “How does this feel? You like when I go deep, doll?” Bruce placed a hurried, sloppy kiss against your cheek before planting his palm between your shoulder blades, holding you in place.“Use your voice, honey. I want to know what you like. How do you want me to play with you?”

Dick Grayson had planned the perfect date . . . except he forgot how prone to rain showers Bludhaven was.

On the rooftop of a rain-slick abandoned building beneath the neon glow of restaurant lights and advertisements on the Jumbotron, takeout containers were hastily shoved aside along with the spandex of your super-suit, so you could straddle him. A crisp drizzle dampened his hair. In between ravenous kisses, you could hear the patter, patter, patter of rain droplets hitting the plastic of your takeout.

Dick was the first to break the kiss, gasping for air. “We’re gonna have to be quick, baby, or it’s gonna get wet around here. And I don’t mean just you.” His skin was damp with mist, and a florid blush sprouted on the apples of his cheeks as he watched you sink down onto his cock. Lips pursed in a wince, you wobbled, your balance not the greatest.

Dick was the acrobat, not you. You preferred the safety of gravel, the promise of a next step.

“Oh, come on, just a little more,” he dared you,” I know you can take it. You’ve done it before.” Dick’s gloved hands slithered around your waist, pulling your chest to his, then he bucked his hips upward, bullying the rest of his cock into your hole. “There we go. Just like that,” he half cooed, half murmured into your cheek and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Look at you. . .” Jason Todd said, almost reverently, his breath fanning your slit from beneath you. You’d been sucking his cock after every patrol, no questions asked. It made Jason feel a bit guilty, like things were unfair, so he let you ride his face. He’d been teasing all night because he was still Jason. Thigh kisses, kitten licks, his breath ghosting over your core.

The smirk that crept across his lips could only be described as sardonic, smug, shit eating. “Worked up yet?” Jason raised a scarred eyebrow. “Aww, you poor thing, needing me to take care of it.” Jason pressed a kiss to your mound, right above your puffy clit, the special place he was needed most. Your stomach was flooded with warmth, your thighs were as tense as violin chords. You needed to cum.

“Should I cave?” Jason considered, tilting his head and screwing his lips up. “Nahhh. You look too good all soaking wet and desperate.” He himself was rock hard and leaking within the confines of his jeans. Never mind that, teasing you was one hundred percent worth whatever torture he might suffer. Though, you knew the game of teasing would be a lot less fun when his turn came around.

“Y’know you could beg and I would be a bit more. . . forthcoming.” Jason paused and gave you time to cave and beg. “No? Nothing? Then I guess you’ll just have to get your own self off, sweetheart.”

A string of saliva connected his top and bottom row of teeth when he opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. “Well, baby, if you want to it so bad, you better start taking it. I’m set to go all night.”

[ode2rin]

new boyfriend rin would never ever, under any circumstance, admit that he likes the pet names you call him. well… unless you would stop doing it. (also me pushing the bffs to lovers pipeline)

You must be upset with him, Rin is convinced so. It’s the only logical and sensible explanation behind this unusual behavior. 

And he's going mad about it. Itoshi Rin is going mad any second now if he can't get to the bottom of this, he’s certainly convinced.

Every instinct screamed that your recent behavior was a reaction to something he'd done, but what? Was it the late replies to your text messages? No, you knew he was at practice and you told him you didn’t mind. Was it about the souvenir he brought back home to you from Paris? Sure, you teased him about its impracticality, but nothing that warranted this icy distance.

Or maybe it was something he said now? It must be, right? Everything boils down to his reckless poor choice of words, he supposes.

Slowly, Rin approached you by the couch you’re seated in. With your attention preoccupied by the selection of shows you’re browsing, you settled on looking at him briefly through your peripheral vision. Amused by how he’s slightly tiptoeing around, you let out a half-suppressed laugh to yourself. 

He looks like a cat sometimes, you thought from the sight. And acts like one too. Like a big black cat who would hiss at you if you looked at him funny, or one that would bite your hand if you stopped petting him to sleep. Funny how Rin could be like that too.

The moment Rin settles into the plush comfort of the couch, he gazes at you through lowered lashes, trying to read the play of emotions on your face, if there’s any. 

There’s nothing worth noting, and he doesn’t know if that should assure or bother him.

“Are we… alright?” he drawled.

What the fuck. He did not just sound like that. 

He did not just ask that and sounded like an anxious pathetic wet cat who just had a new home waiting for its owner’s permission over anything (highly specific because he’s a bit dramatic). Just what kind of loser have you reduced him into, really.

Oblivious of the internal turmoil in Rin’s mind, you turn to him, “Hmm? Yeah? Why’d you ask?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled. It’s enough that he already humiliated himself for the way he asked if the two of you were cool— doing it again by exposing himself that he thinks you’re mad plainly because he hadn’t heard you call him a pet name (like you always do) would be mortification in its final form.

“Okay, Rin.”

That’s it. This needs to end. Forget humiliation. He would rather choose to feel pathetic over any day than continue with this charade.

“Are you mad at me?” 

“Why would you think that?” you asked back instantly, shocked and extremely confused because of your boyfriend’s question. You’re literally just looking for a movie the two of you can watch— how is that any indication of being mad at him?

“Just answer the question,” he fumed, impatience settling on the furrow of his brows.

You said in the beginning of your relationship that you didn’t appreciate the silent treatment and guessing games, so don’t you think it’s hypocritical of you to do the same to him? (You’re not, but he just doesn’t know that.)

“I’m not mad at you, Rin.”

“You so are!” 

“I am not! But you, yelling and instigating it are making me right now!” you countered, voice hinted with irritation, “What is your problem, Rin?”

There it is again. Rin rose from the couch to face your sitting form, as if standing would better prove his point. “See? You’re calling me Rin!” he blurted.

“Well, maybe because it’s your name?!”

“Not to you, it’s not!”

A beat of surprised silence. Until your lips grew to such a wide smile that made Rin physically feel his heart melting. 

Yet, in Rin’s true fashion, he’ll never let you know how much air you knock out of him because of your beaming smile. Instead, he’ll say something along the snarky lines of, “Stop smiling like that.”

“Did my big bad grumpy Rinnie here thought we’re on a fight because I hadn’t call him baby?” you ask, purposely stressing out the words to disarm him more.

With a feigned exasperation, he comments, “I forgot how annoying you are.” 

“And I forgot how childish you can get sometimes,” you countered.

“I’m not childish.”

“You don’t mind me calling you Rin then?”

Rin rolled his eyes at you, but you know better than to put meaning to it. He lowered himself onto the couch beside you. With a swift tug, Rin pulled you closer, closing the distance between you effortlessly. His arm found its way around your waist, drawing you snugly against his chest.

“But I don’t see why you need to…” Maybe he could be a bit childish.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” you shyly muttered, drawing shapes in his arm. “The pet names, I mean,” you clarified, sensing the confused look he’s probably giving you behind.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He is baby. He is Rinnie. Fucking hell, that’s so loser of him to even voice it out in his own mind. 

“What? You call me by my name!” you defensively pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like your nicknames of me,” he mumbled, the words barely audible.

The pet names— they were more than what they served. It was important to him more than what he would admit. 

They were a secret language, a way you marked him as yours. A reminder that he wasn't just Rin anymore— just your friend.

He was now something more, something special.

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides… I love your name,” he whispered, his voice velvet against your hair.

It’s tender— no, it makes him tender. Saying your name has been the softest, kindest, and most tender way he’s used his words for. 

Maybe it’s a little pathetic, feeling this undone by a name. But then it’s you. 

It was your name— a name he could whisper with adoration, a name that belonged only to him to claim. 

You melt to his words, leaning deeper into his chest. A contented sigh escaped your lips, the sound swallowed by the warmth of his embrace.

Looking up at him, your eyes held a softness he often found himself getting lost in, “I love your name too, but I also like calling you pet names. Is it okay?”

“Whatever you decide.” He’s yours, either way.

note. this is basically rin being "my nameeee is whatever you decideeeee and i'm just gonna call you mineeee i'm insane but i'm your baby!!!!" yeah that song basically.

[kooyabooya]

PURITIES, IMPURITIES

yunjin & kazuha x m reader

31k words

Alright - this is kind of one of those cliché, freeze-frame moments from those sitcoms that puts you right in the middle of the action, or- when you wake up with a pounding headache of hangover after having an apocalyptic night out and somehow everything you’re trying to remember is nothing but a complete blank. 

Yunjin sells the part right away, groggily after waking up saying: “God, can you believe what the hell happened last night?” 

Sadly, you don’t recall it from the get go. 

Kazuha’s body curling the pillow serves as the first piece of information at the scene of the crime: your bed. 

“She’s gonna give us an earful of this when she's up,” you say. “We’d be lucky if she’s in a good mood by then.” 

“There’s nothing to freak out about,” and Yunjin’s reassurance gives you a warming glimmer of hope. “I’ll tell you this. She came to me, first.” 

“Are we talking back then or earlier?” 

Yunjin slaps your arm, laughing. She’s aware that the inquiry was entirely rhetorical, a minor press to her buttons. Her thumb rubs Kazuha’s temple, moving a few strands of messy hair away from her face. Bright rays of sunlight breaking through the drapes and the evidence is riddled all over her: the marks, the dry streaks of cum at her legs, sweat glistening across her skin. Your mental checklist is filling up by the minute. 

“To be fair,” and it’s a realization to be made: “She did ask for this.” 

“Yes," Concurs Yunjin. "Yes she did.” 

–

Let’s summarize it like this: post-grad life is absolutely no joke. 

Your realization of this has been deeply humbling. 

And you’re reminded, again - from one of your friends who’s on the same boat as you: taking things day by day is always the way to go, don’t ever forget that. 

It sounds easier said than done. 

The lovely chime of the lock popping out from its hole plays a nice tune of pomp and circumstance, your humble abode of trinkets and gadgets and items greeting you a ‘welcome home!’ after a long day of work. It’s worth noting: you’re not actually working - not yet, but the job search in the pool has been quite dry. 

You sigh, get your shoes off at the doorstep, and toss your jacket on the nearby chair you lay your eyes on. 

When you finally hobble over to the couch, Yunjin appears right on cue; half hair up, half down, fresh out of the shower and in one of your shirts. You know her schedule by heart: the day was Thursday, which meant that she was out for a pickleball run with Somi and Giselle who convinced her to give the sport a try. She had some prior experience with tennis, so most of the skills easily transferred over. Talk about being multi-talented. 

“Hey,” she greets, tapping your thigh as a signal to give her some space on the seat. “Long day today? 

“Yeah,” you say, rubbing the sleepiness off your face and graze your thumb on the top of Yunjin’s thigh. “Nothing much to report- oh. I managed to get a callback from that one place I told you about last week.” 

“The start up Sian’s working in? Any good news?” Her voice lights up in excitement, brows elevated and head at an angle like a golden retriever. “I thought that place was only fifth in your options.” 

“It was, but figured that I’d work backwards on the list from bottom to top.” 

Yunjin smirks, nails to your knuckles, tic bouncing off her tongue, agreeing. “What an innovator.” 

“A different angle,” you laugh, “Worth giving it a try.” 

“We all have to start somewhere,” she tells you, voice light-hearted and calming. “Besides, life isn’t a linear graph that one follows. Everybody has their ups and downs they don’t want to admit.” 

She does have a point, so you nod. 

“Don’t be discouraged if there’s no results right away,” she adds on, lifting her hand up for you to momentarily give you a handshake as if she was your brother or something, curling your fingers with hers before ending it off with the pull down, gently slapping your cheek to force a smile out of you. Yunjin’s got all the remedies you can ask to boost your mood up, no point arguing otherwise. “You also said that you didn’t like the one other place second on your list.” 

“That cafe would be nice. Can finally cross off how to make the perfect matcha drink, too,” you reply, sitting up and sliding your arm across her waist, bringing her closer. 

“Mhm,” she hums, smiling the more she leans into your touch. If there was anything that you know very well to do: is how easily it is for her to let these things slide - more so like you can literally sweep her off her feet and suck the life out of her, without having the guilt lingering whatsoever. She’s so agonizingly pretty in your eyes and the fact she can say some of the coolest things in her perspective about life because she realizes that it cuts both ways. You could listen to her talk smart all day, until she plays into the dirty ditz where it gets closer to one familiar end far faster than you would like to admit. “I’ll say this compliment, then: you already have the best cup of coffee in town,” Yunjin says, a smirk with a chin lifted up and your tongue pressing the inner side of your lip. Her gaze goes hazy, and the half-lidded eyes coming from you really sends the message either way. “I actually like the whole package you’re selling. It’s sweet.” 

“You think of me as sweet? I guess so too.”

“That’s not the only thing sweet about you,” says Yunjin, palming your crotch and scratches the fabric, her breath at your teeth. “You’re dangerous.”

“Jen, what are you trying,” you chuckle, slow and low; the tone like you’re wanting to find something without putting too much force into suspicion. “Need I remind you that you were almost late to practice earlier?” 

As Yunjin bites her lip at the lean in, only to be interrupted by the same chime at the door. A second later, the sound gets replaced by another girl’s huff, keys jangling and boots clattering on the floor before making their way further into the apartment. Both of you look towards her direction out of curiosity. 

“Back already, Zuha?” Yunjin asks, leaning out more to the point she’s almost perpendicular to the seat of the couch, “How’d the hair appointment go?” 

“Good!” Kazuha beams, shrugging off her handbag and straightening her denim jacket outshined by her new color of hair - she mentioned it in the group chat between you three with a picture of her head wrapped up in tinfoil, so the input paid off. “Thought it would take longer, but I really like this shade much more than the blonde I had a year ago.” 

“Oh god,” you breathe, “I can’t stress how much I hated the blonde shade back then.” 

Kazuha’s brows crinkle, lips inward. She doesn’t want to admit it herself, but she did say her blonde hair wasn’t the right choice. “Dickhead. I thought I told you to take that opinion outside.” 

“I’m not going to apologize for saying what’s right.” 

“Guess I don’t have to ask you what you think about my hair and go directly to Yunjin instead.” 

“Ash blonde is more of your style, Kazuha,” you admit, Yunjin also agreeing with a little nod of her own. “If you were to ask me, I’d prefer this one over the blonde you had from last year.” 

“He does have a valid reason,” Yunjin adds, palm to your chest when she stands up from the couch with a water bottle in her hand from the table. Tosses it towards Kazuha who catches it without an issue. “You staying in or stopping by tonight?” 

Kazuha chugs half the bottle down, smacks her lips soon after. “Got an hour to chill, told Saku and Chaewon we’re eating out tonight. Since Sakura’s boytoy leaves tomorrow to-” 

“Study abroad,” you input, “I remember she was talking to me about him a few weeks ago.” 

“So no more dick for me or her,” Kazuha says. 

“You’re serious,” you say back. “Dude.” 

Kazuha twists her face, hands wrapped tighter around the plastic. “Dude. It is serious. A total loss for the home team.” 

“He wasn’t even your boyfriend to begin with.” Yunjin butts in, almost ad-libbed. 

“That’s what makes it fun!” 

“This girl can’t be helped,” Yunjin, shifting her attention to the cutting board of chicken and vegetables. “Sucks for her to be put out of commission all because she can’t get her pussy filled up this weekend.” 

“I heard that, bitch.” Kazuha yells deep in the hallway. “Why don’t you tell Chaewon while you’re at it too with her boyfriend.” 

You laugh at the annoyance Kazuha has in her voice. Yunjin rolls her eyes and wheels around in the kitchen. The pair part ways into doing their own activities around the place and that’s really the end of that. There’s a sense of comfort you find yourself in within these walls. When the world outside you doesn’t swing the way you want it to, it’s always nice to lay back and relax - save the problems of today to tomorrow. You lace your fingers together, put them over your waist and cross your ankles up to the armrest, closing your eyes.

“I’ll be here,” you’re saying aloud, a usual announcement during these hours: “Wake me up when the food’s ready, or if Kazuha leaves, whichever happens to come first.” 

–

Among the never ending loop of emails, interviews, and outings at different food spots to brush up the resume, you’re getting sick and tired of the daily activities as a whole. You’re doubtful, like a running inside joke you’re not in on. 

You tell Yunjin about the struggles, to which she tells you: “there’s no such thing as mistakes in a plan that’s meant for you, babe.” God bless her, the literary ability this woman has reminds you again as to why she wanted to be an english teacher or writer. Hell, philosophy might’ve been her forte, but it’s another debate topic to save for later. 

Kazuha’s outlook is a bit more abrasive; more real and a little less innocent, doesn’t mince her words at all. “Look, I know we give much shit between us at times,” she blurts out on a random afternoon, “but I think those people who do the hiring don’t know what you’re capable of yet, and it angers me about them not caring about you.” 

“Didn’t think you’d have the heart to say that to my face.” 

Kazuha squints, confused. Yunjin looks up from her book, eavesdropping. 

“If we’re being honest,” Kazuha continues with a wave of her hand. “this is basically like you getting me through college apps back in senior year, me having the breakdowns on a nightly basis because you shat on my essays being complete trash-” 

“Somewhat relevant, yes. Still isn’t as close to what I feel.” 

Ever since graduation (and even before then), the pair have gotten used to each other in no time flat. Yunjin eventually had to end the lease on her apartment at the beginning of summer and it was a no brainer when you popped the question of moving in. They both have similar tastes, similar styles - the list goes on and on. But hey: two of the hottest girls on campus are living with you and every time someone brings it up you just give them a shrug. 

(The non-verbal message presents itself like it’s no big deal. 

Or one quiet way of answering: ‘fuck you, stay out of my business’.)

Yujin closes her book and treats herself to the cup of tea on the table. “It’s pretty much a similar experience across the board, no need to overcomplicate it.” 

You check your phone with the same kind of energy in receiving a text. Quick skim here, no luck. “Whoopty-fucking-do, still no message back from Minnie about the software position.” 

“No stress babe, it’s Friday night after all.” 

“I’d text her personally to see if there’s any hold up, rush the process a bit.” Kazuha suggests. 

You pull your lip. “I could, but what do you want me to do? It’s not my fault that the job market and economy as a whole is in shambles, toying with the idea of teasing me like it’s some ‘will they, won’t they’ kind of situation. But seriously-” and here your hands are in your face in a small sign of frustration, “it’s a bit discouraging on the latter when I could be spending my time on-” 

“Pressure isn’t a good look on you,” Kazuha tuts, snorting. She reclines back on the seat, sliding her heels on the floor, “I’m sure someone will swoop you on their ship sooner or later. The strategy here is just sit and wait, taking into account the number of places you dropped by today and they can’t look at the CV the moment you hand it to them. Ever heard the saying: “Rome wasn’t built in a day?” 

“Classic for the kids.” Yunjin recites, hands bracing her chin. “Patience is always the everlasting virtue.” 

“Both of you are dead last in lecturing me about practicing a positive mindset.” 

Here they laugh in midst of deliberation. Because Yunjin’s shaking her head while Kazuha’s turning her attention away to something that isn’t on you. The heat starts to rise on your face in embarrassment. Yunjin’s gaze lowers on Kazuha as she crosses her arms, fingers tapping along the opposite limb, sharing the same look before she looks over to you once again. Silence fills the table for a moment until Kazuha’s phone vibrates on the table, prompting her to swipe it off the surface and check the notifications in mere milliseconds. 

Kazuha’s eyes briskly shimmers from the screen, face lighting up once she’s finished reading. “Oh shit,” she breathes. “I forgot I was going out with Sakura tonight.” 

“Where to this time?” 

“Eunchae’s,” she answers, briskly standing up and typing her life away. “Just a quick outing, doughnut run, nothing too big. Yunjin, you still coming?” 

“Can’t.” Yunjin yawns. “Tired and plus I had a movie date planned with this one,” she says with a head bob towards you. 

“Ew- gross,” Kazuha mutters. You look at her dumbfounded while Yunjin smirks. “Whatever, enjoy your impromptu movie date.” 

“Prayers up for the dick that’s about to cross paths with you,” you remark over your shoulder. “Whoever’s the lucky one to bend you over tonight, I’ll drink to that too.” 

Kazuha smacks your head then walks away. “I’ll take that same fucking bottle when I come back and smash it over your head.” 

“Ouch.” Yunjin sighs, putting on her glasses and stretching. “I’ve been telling you it’s a lost cause for her.” 

“Hey. That’s her problem, not mine.” 

–

Kazuha’s problems, whether you like it or not, usually end up becoming yours. 

Not that it’s her fault or anything. The girl just spills out one word and it turns into a never ending ramble of sentences. 

Fifteen minutes have passed since dinner, for the ones who are curious - fifteen minutes of valuable time lost in Kazuha’s eyes because she can’t seem to get her life together when it comes to proper efficiency. You and Yunjin are bundled up on the couch, watching some dating series on netflix that’s been all the rage across social media. The cast upon preliminary assessment are all attractive - some with a stronger bias than others, but you deduced Yunjin’s opinion was much more important than what’s happening on screen. 

Self-insertion is a matter of conceptual perspective, is what she’s trying to tell you. 

“All I’m saying is-” she groans after your pitiful laugh, “we put ourselves in that scenario, and I guarantee the ratings would go up.” 

“Pretty high pedestal you’re putting me there,” you comment. 

Yunjin slaps your shoulder and gawks at you, playfully offended. “Oh please, if you didn’t take me to paradise, how else would you make your case compared to the other good looking guys?” 

“Don’t need to, since I’ve already got you.” 

She coos at the remark, laughing at you playing it off in the coolest way imaginable. It’s cringy, but who the fuck cares? The fact that she agrees with the statement only solidifies the pull you have on her. A win-win situation. 

“What about Kazuha?” Yunjin follows up shortly after. “I think she’d be a great fit there.” 

“If I were one of the guys on that show and she was one of the contestants, I’d try everything to date her in a heartbeat,” you tell her. 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

“Really what?” Kazuha walks in a second after your reply, with a zip-up to her frame and peeping over to see what was on the screen. “I heard my name down the hallway.” 

“Oh nothing, Zu,” answers Yunjin, waving her hand to shoo her off. “We were just saying that you’d be a great addition to the dating show cast. I can’t lie, some of the guys in this are super hot.” 

“Ahem,” you cough. 

“Shut up,” Yunjin says. “You were literally just telling me that you’d date Kazuha if you had the chance.” 

“Never in a million years,” you hear Kazuha say, disgusted. “That can of worms stays shut for a reason.” 

“A fun topic to talk about,” you’re laughing out loud again, shaking your head. Kazuha squints her eyes and her lips are spread wide in annoyance. A common expression she does whenever she can’t comprehend the bullshit coming out of your mouth at times - for most occasions is all sarcasm and nothing more. “You may not like it, but who’s living with who here, hm?” 

“I’ll kick your ass again if I have to,” Kazuha chuckles - a tilt of her head to keep it subtle, but you know well she intends that. 

you say

“Can’t beat my ass if you haven’t gone out yet,” you retort, pursing your lips. Kazuha glances at the clock and realizes what time it was, cursing under her breath. She shoves a hand in her pocket and bolts for the door, throwing up a peace sign to you and Yunjin, letting you both know she’s finally on her way out. 

“Bye Zuha, have fun!” Yunjin yells in a light tone.

“Don’t burn the place down until I get back, but the noise complaints are fine,” Kazuha says, slotting herself through the door the next second, into the cold. 

–

“That girl with the dark blonde hair looks like Kazuha,” Yunjin tells you, pointing at the screen. She’s right. The one on the show appears to be at the right height, similar body build, not to mention the abs highlighted from her swimsuit. “I’m telling you, it’s a carbon copy.” 

It’s been a little over an hour since Kazuha left, maybe more - you haven’t been keeping track, really. The episodes and runtimes are starting to mesh together to the point where Yunjin’s starting to get other ideas with that mischievous hand of hers, working at your shorts. 

“She’s hella popular with the others - so you might be right, considering Kazuha’s the mix of an extroverted introvert,” you say, paying no attention to the slip of Yunjin’s hand into your boxers, fingers snaking the length. She can feel you getting hard. 

You’re on the same wavelength as Yunjin: hand trailing up her thigh, thumb and index pinching the waistband of her panties beneath the blanket before curling your fingers across the fabric, hearing a hitched breath. 

“There’s no way they don’t hook up while recording, right? Like- the fuckable scales are off the charts,” she assesses, squirming her hips to the fingers circling over her clothed clit. She cocks her head as you pull your lips inward, trying to see the transmitting message in her eyes. 

You press a little further in at the opening, feel the dampness spread across. Oh yeah, she’s soaking them. 

“We wouldn’t know, per se, since the whole point of inferno is all about exclusivity. Getting to know the person without any outside distractions, that kind of thing,” you conclude. You’re paying more attention to your hand than the show. 

“Them having sex on camera would be so normal,” Yunjin says, a word slips out but her mouth forms to something else when you slip a finger inside without a warning. “So normal.”

“You’d be right.” 

“Definitely,” she breathes and it’s heavy. This segment has been slowly building in the background; the part where few words are said and relied more on the action: Yunjin’s thumb presses down on the head of your cock and grips around it, languidly stroking; your breathing stops for a moment, bobbing the air down your throat, coming up with a proper response, ending with nothing. You can feel your lower body tense and relax with the ticks of the clock, an indicator for what’s about to happen if you keep this up. You don’t fight it - nor want to, since you’re both well aware that the teasing is a better way to eat up the time with your bodies rather than everything else. 

It’s only natural to do things like these. You’d always make time for being horny. 

Before you know it, your shorts are on the floor. The same could be said with her panties, tossed away to a corner in the room for you to ask yourself “well how the fuck did that get there?” later when the damage has been done. Her shirt’s being held up by her teeth and you’re taking all the sights of her upper half uncovered past her shirt. Nothing but porcelain skin and amber nipples waiting to be marked up and bitten. Your hips get put in place and your mouth is taken over by Yunjin’s, feeling the glide of her folds across your cock and the slickness of her cunt on your fingers, smearing her thigh. 

Her breath is warm, just like her face; mouth hung open when she settles her pussy on your shaft. She finds joy in the loose and unraveling expressions: all wide-eyed and nowhere else to go. Your head falls back once the grip registers in the nerves. 

All in the rise and fall of her hips. She’s gyrating them as a test like it’s a given - which it is. She loves it when you’re raring to go, dicking her hips down or fucking herself on your cock. It’s all the same. 

“Babe,” she whispers into your ear. The blanket uncovering your lower halves, barren skin now out to the open air. “I want it.” 

Fuck, she could meet you halfway with the wetness of her pussy and already be there. You hold her hips and waist steady and she begins to ride. 

–

Here is where the story - or rather, the ordeal - truly unravels. As Anakin Skywalker famously declares on the glowing screen before the darkened room: ‘This is where the fun begins.’

You’re woken up to the incessant buzzing of your phone on the nightstand, blinded by the glare of the television, drowsy as fuck, and slightly sweating. You also don’t even bother looking at the time because your lock screen is basically a flashbang of your selfie with Yunjin even with the caller ID blurring it. It’s from an unknown number (it isn’t but you can barely see as it is) and even if you’re entertaining the idea of not answering it, you do anyway. 

“Hello?” Your voice graveled and deep, clearly tired. “Who is this?” 

“Oh, you’re Yunjin’s boyfriend, right?” The girl on the other end asks. Her voice is surprisingly masculine. You would’ve mistaken her for a guy in that case. The line goes quiet for a few seconds, afraid that she possibly called the wrong number. “You sound like Yunjin’s boyfriend. By the way, it’s Eunchae.” 

Crap, you remember that Kazuha was with her for tonight’s activities. Wondering what the hell happened this time for her to call instead of Sakura as the usual standby. 

“We have a situation here,” she continues, mouth ticked with a hint of annoyance. “Kazuha’s hammered and Sakura’s getting her business on with some guy out in the alleyway. Told me to call you if she didn’t come back in five minutes. And it’s been more than five minutes.” 

“Shit, I didn’t think it’d be that serious.” 

“The fuck were you expecting?” 

“I dunno- just a simple doughnut dine and dash? Neither of them told me about a party.” 

“That’s because the two of them tagged along with the guy they met there and it’s been downhill ever since. I wanna go home.” 

Can’t help but feel bad for Eunchae, since you were in her shoes before. 

“Mind hurrying it up a bit? I can hear Sakura’s moaning behind me and it’s looking like she won’t be going home tonight.” 

You scratch the back of your head, raking off the sleepiness before rubbing your eyes. “Alright, be there in a few. Where do you want to meet?” 

“I’ll send my location, my house isn’t far from here.” 

–

In a slight reiteration, you’ve become used to Kazuha’s antics. 

Kazuha brings in Sakura and her plus one late at night, you know how that goes; Kazuha can’t decide which top goes well with her loose pants for the grocery run; Kazuha procrastinates on some of the chores around the apartment and leaves you alone to pick up her slack. She smacks your ass for fun and runs away into her room - goes to show the years of friendship you have between you two. When you’re up late studying for midterms or finals, the noise cancelling headphones serve well to block out the sounds of Kazuha touching herself -or, the fact that you’re putting her pile of laundry on her bed and it’s riddled with the assortment of playboy magazines, dirty clothes, and the vibrator (which you don’t question) next to it. She’s an agent of chaos. A perfect anthesis to your very livelihood. 

It’s certainly no exception when you mentally add alcohol into the mix. 

“Do I want to know how she ended up like this?” You ask Eunchae upon arriving, kneeling down to a slumped Kazuha against the brickwall on the sidewalk - hand to the back of her head to get a better look of her drunk gaze: one eye open and giggling like an idiot, her words slurring. 

“She literally grabbed the first beer handed to her when we got here,” Eunchae replies, showing you a picture of the moments before disaster. “I thought she was a heavy weight.” 

“Depends on what they were passing out in that party.” You move Kazuha’s head around to ensure nothing happened to her. So far: face blushed with pink, a lazy eye, messy hair and sweaty skin. But most importantly: no marks. “Did Saki tell you to stick with her while at the party?” 

“Yes, she did.” 

“Well that’s the good news,” you’re saying to yourself. Kazuha might be a pain in your ass, but she is your longtime friend, after all. Like anyone else, you’d go the extra mile to keep an eye out for her. 

You then glance back at Eunchae, her shadow casted by the glare of the overhanging streetlight, arms crossed with the light tap of her foot. Her thumb subconsciously swipes the phone screen as you both look at Kazuha when she snorts, playfully hitting your arm. 

“She’ll be fine,” you softly say, hoisting Kazuha’s arms over your shoulders and adjusting her on your back. “Given the fact that Sakura’s getting her fuck-fix for the weekend, I’ll leave that be.” 

“Mhm, girl’s a piece of work,” Eunchae concurs, lashes fluttering in the dim lighting, air to the left side of her cheek. “And here I thought we were getting our box and heading back home but-” she then motions a hand to Kazuha murmuring behind you. “-this shit unfolded and, yeah.” 

“The regular stuff,” you admit, because it really is. You twitch your head the opposite way from the house party. “My car’s this way, I’ll drop you off on the way back.” 

–

(Dealing with a drunk Kazuha in the car was simple math: 

Make sure she’s comfy, for one. Recline the seat all the way back since her feet will most likely end up on the dashboard for another. And almost beating every red light at the intersections so that she doesn’t get cranky with all the stops and turns for the third note. 

A long list and every contingency written in the book: you know her that well.) 

–

3:00 in the morning is usually classified as ‘primetime hours’ for Kazuha. 

Except for tonight. 

You’re running through the standard procedure: get out the car, walk up the stairs, hook a right, second door past the balcony. 

Left shoulder, right shoulder, right foot up, then left; fix Kazuha’s weight on your backside so you don’t throw your back out early, lean a little too forward she’ll fall right off, look back when she’s secure. 

For a girl like her to be 5’7” and 105 pounds, it doesn’t add everything up in your head. She’s humming a song - the lyrics incoherent, tone consistent - then all of a sudden she yelps in surprise. Keep her quiet - a fifth noise complaint from the neighbors in the span of three days was not on the agenda for this week. 

She smacks your head, half awake. “Hey, how did I get home? Put me down.” Kazuha pushes herself off, landing on her feet with a stumble, prompting you to hover your hand to her waist so that she doesn’t lose balance. It’s 3 in the fucking morning and Kazuha’s drunk out of her goddamn mind. “Wait, when did you get here?” 

“I drove us,” you tell her, moving her arm over your shoulder and walking her towards the door. “Looks like you had fun tonight.” 

“I did,” Kazuha hiccups, blinking slowly. “Super fun time.” Her gaze freezes. You can’t tell if she’s grumpy or plain tired (trick question: it’s the second answer); she then closes her eyes with that neat, flat eye smile of hers to where you see the slightest dimple on her face. You could imagine the stars shimmering over her head. Kazuha has so many spirit animals that you could pair her up with, but if you had to choose one- 

“Ehe-” she giggles, staggering her right foot before readjusting her balance, doing the same laugh again. 

(She would definitely be a samoyed.)

So you stifle a laugh and close your mouth, opening the door. 

You’re leading the way back into the apartment while Kazuha tries to walk on her own. She fails. Her forearm bracing the doorway while you shift your body back around out of concern. Her body lurches forward like she just went twelve rounds in a boxing ring, fatigued. She straightens herself up with a hand on top of her head, chin tilted higher when she leans forward, about to fall. Like any other caring friend would do in this situation: you catch her. 

“Easy, easy.” You hold yourself steady, accepting the weight. Or- when you’re stumbling too and shuffle your feet for proper placement. “You said you didn’t drink that much, tell me the truth.” 

Kazuha hums, mindlessly bobbing her head in the form of a yes. 

Her gaze is sleepy. Both of your hands are at her shoulders, keeping her upright. Kazuha’s zip-up slips off her shoulder, exposing her collarbone, covering the tubetop she was wearing with a set of underwear you haven’t seen before. Probably new, you assume. “Kazuha, stand up straight for me, please?” 

“Mmkay,” she slurs. 

“Think you can walk back to your room by yourself?” 

“Nope.” Kazuha beams with her head to the left. 

You sigh. Pat the side of her face to wake her up a bit. “Guess you can’t be helped.” A hand’s extended like a peace offering. “C’mere, I’ll take you there right now.” 

“If you take good care, I’ll let you fuck me.” 

Oh, hell no- 

You weren’t prepared for this kind of Kazuha at all. There was no plan. Not even a proper response in your head could cover for it. 

Kazuha being drunk was always the marker for attention. Put her with the right people (like Sakura, Chaewon, even fucking Yunjin), and it’s guaranteed to be a never ending stream of laughs throughout the day and into the night. Not one second goes by when you’re out with friends to look over the shoulder and see the most questionable acts coming from her that twists the creases across your face and forces you to bear no mind to what’s happening behind you; stay focused now, ask questions later. When you do bring up the topic, it gets brushed over and eventually ignored. You have so many ‘why’s’ as it is, but you find it best to save it for the morning. 

“Kazuha, you’re clapped. There’s no way you just asked me to-” 

“But I’ll be good for you. C’mon, don’t you think I should repay you in some way?” 

“You getting sleep right now will be good for me. Now let’s go, I’m tired as it is-” 

Her arms wrap around your shoulder and middle lazily. You can’t afford to handle another minute of this nonsense and just get your ass back to bed. That alone should be a right in itself, but this girl won’t fucking let go. 

Next thing you know, her lips graze the bottom of your neck before resting on your collarbone. Your name is heard into your shirt, and you huff in annoyance. Plus, your voices could be a little louder than usual since Yunjin’s a heavy sleeper. At this point, you’ve had enough: so you slip your fingers into Kazuha’s hair and yank her head back to see her face wince at the sudden pain. There’s no shame when you see her biting her lip, half-lidded eyes gazing with no care of the lust behind them. “Just help me to my room, I promise not to give you trouble. I owe you. Need to thank,” she mumbles, licking her lips. “I’ll be a good girl.” 

“Christ- Kazuha, we’re not doing this.” But talking to her while she’s intoxicated isn’t going to do you any good. 

Now you carry on, dragging her closer to the room, ignoring the assault of mindless kisses she’s placing all over your neck. She ups the ante when her hand palms your sweats, trying to play it off in standing upright. 

“Jesus- Kazuha,” you angrily swear, similar to all the times she pissed you off.

“What? You don’t like that?” Kazuha asks, lips parted when she rests her fingers at your crotch. 

“Fucks sake, no.” 

“Aw come onnnn,’ she whines, trilling the last bit of the words. “Yunjin always has her fun, why can’t I?” 

“Because I said no.” 

“You won’t even let me suck you off? What if I just wanna stay here and sit so I can do that?” 

You can’t stand her being like this. 

“I always hear you and Yunjin getting it on in your room.” She leans on the wall next to the open door, curling her hand around your arm while the other doesn’t move. “How would it feel if I called you daddy again for once?” 

The scrunch in your nose shuts down the thought immediately. You’re sensible enough to not entertain the idea, despite how tempting it is. No. You know better. You know damn well what that shit does to you even if it slapped you in the face. No one casually spills the word ‘daddy’ like it’s nothing and expect no reaction. Her mind’s swimming in alcohol. You’re starting to wonder what the hell she drank at that party. 

“Again- God. Zuha.” You flicker your eyes into the void of the hallway. The nickname only comes up at times where she’s really getting on your nerves. “For the last time, you are getting your ass to bed and we’ll talk about it in the morning.” Kazuha winces at the sharp tone, realizing she’s overstepped her bounds. Bless the last bits of common sense she has left; you don’t know where you’d be if she didn’t use her brain cells for something else that required her to think. 

“Ugh, fine,” she tells you, and the tamped down ego in your head is satisfied in victory, stepping into her room. You hold her at the arms and help slip out of her jacket, tossing it on her chair as she does her part in sitting on the bed, waiting for you to lie her down. “I was hoping that you could fuck me.” 

“In your dreams,” you rebut firmly. 

Right before you walk away, Kazuha grabs your wrist. A few wisps of her hair fall over her forehead. “Wait,” she says, and that should’ve been the red flag to swipe your hand away from the imposing threat - a dangerous risk you’re not willing to take. You clench your teeth and swallow hard, with the slightest bit of pull in your arm. “At least-” 

You actually don’t move forward, but backward. 

“At least touch me, just this once.” Before you know what she’s doing, it’s already too late. Her hand guides yours to her thigh, working the curve of your thumb and index up her waist. Part of you is impressed at the amount of work she put in maintaining a chiseled frame, the muscle very much present the more your fingers press down on the skin. “For a little bit.” 

(Should’ve left the room when you had the chance.) 

Your eyes continue to gaze and drift all over Kazuha’s body, hand to her chest with the thumb curling below her breast. Her humming rumbles low, safe. It hadn’t been that long since she was out in the cold, but she’s surprisingly warm. 

She makes sure every single part of your hand feels it, flipping it over to the knuckles past her hips, fingertips making contact to the patterned lace of her panties - the fabric clearly damp when she starts to shift her hips at your touch. It’s all gone wrong - a mess, one really fucked up mess - her lower half continues to move with both of her legs pressing your hand in, holding you tight at her sensitive clit, the huffs rising and falling along with her chest the more she used your fingers to get herself off. 

Drunk Kazuha was easy to deal with. Sleepy drunk Kazuha was a cakewalk in caring for. But never in your years of knowing her where she would be like this. Let alone the fact you’re in a relationship with her best friend and you’re staring further and further away from the door towards freedom. 

The reality check will be cashed in once it’s all over.  

You say her name, which spills out in a stutter; your state of mind incomprehensible to the stacked hands working the heat and slick between Kazuha’s legs, head unable to stay still and lolling side to side, elbows digging into the mattress. 

How does she not feel embarrassed with what she’s doing? Sarcasm applied: how are you not ashamed of this? 

It hits you right then and there: in the retracted hand of yours, eliciting another small tantrum of Kazuha kicking and waving her arms like a kid. You take a second to pause, remember how you got here in the first place and why, clouded with anger and confusion, hindering a sizable amount of time to reflect. Soon, you found it best to retreat from the situation and into the kitchen, grab a glass of water and wash your hands to calm yourself. 

(Even as your thumb grazes the glass in a period of contemplating, the whole ordeal can't be swallowed down that easily, as much as you want it to. Not when you’re achingly hard in your sweatpants and that serves a few more strings of curses out your mouth.) 

One last thing that you could do before heading back to your room was set the small bottle of aspirin at the side of her bed for when she wakes up. Maybe convince her to use that body pillow of hers to mimic the warmth; you nod your head at the thought, it could work and it should. It’s been a few minutes since her mini breakdown and you assume that she’d be asleep by now. 

You couldn’t wait until the morning to tease her about being a horny drunk - worry about being her personal punching bag later. 

Apparently the teasing would have to wait. Because your personal ideal about Kazuha was about to be shifted again. 

The last thing you would’ve expected was for her to be sound asleep. Instead, she’s got her tube top up to her upper chest, one delicate hand furiously rubbing sloppy circles into her clit, the other gripping into the mattress as she’s on her knees, body pillow between her legs, grinding into the cushions. Her pants are at the foot of the bed, panties loosely around her right ankle. She’s an insufferable cocktease. 

It’s something straight out of your wet dreams, from a time when everything revolved around Kazuha. You’re sucked into an inescapable vacuum of thoughts you’d never think of again (with things like those, it’s all a lie, they always are). You can’t stop peering through the crack in the door, opening it wider to watch Kazuha grab a handful of her tit and ride her own hand. She’s too into it to pay attention to you, and you’re fighting every urge in the fingers sliding down your thigh, unable to move. 

She only seemed to have one thing on her lips, the only thing plaguing her intoxicated mind. The tube top at her pits and the gush of her cunt soaking up the last pillowcase, but you’re seeing it clear as day. 

You can’t help but think how good your name sounds on her lips. 

Kazuha then gropes both of her tits, pinching both buds of her nipples to keep her from stopping, finally figuring out that she can continue without the support, falling back on the bed, unfolding her legs like butterfly wings to reveal how wet she was. The small webbing of her slick coating her index and middle fingers, leaving more spots on the bed sheets beneath her. 

There’s a deathly, fucked up part of you in the back of your mind: that wants to give in to the temptation. Oh, you could give Kazuha the same treatment as Yunjin when you have her in a blithering wreck, fucking her full as she creams on your cock, grab her by the hair and press her to the closest thing nearby to reatalite on the slightly abusive attitude. Get your tongue all over her cunt like it’s the last meal you’d ever have on your knees and have her cumming and hands full of every single part of her body until she’s had enough (which will most likely be never in this case). The need for more is an absolute certainty, a greater purpose. You'll consciously be happier in being rough, be a pain in her ass (quite literally, sooner than you think), and completely forget about the resistance or consequences.

You’re holding yourself back for now, placing the water and two tablets of aspirin on the dresser, lean your shoulder to the door frame - inhaling and exhaling quietly to not make her realize you were still in the room. 

She doesn’t stop her fingers from dipping inside her leaking slit, wagging it across her folds with every passing shudder of her breathing, sinking it back in soon two digits at a time. Debauched, impure, sinful; you could go through the list of your lexicon to describe this present moment and still won’t give an explanation as to why you can’t look away. You watch as her eyes wander, flickering when she looks down and plop her head back on the pillow when the finger curl rubs at a sensitive spot.

And it’s almost instinctual, close to second nature: your hand tugging your dick out, paying close attention to how the slenderness of her hand widely spreading her pussy folds. How Kazuha wished her own hand was a dildo or a vibrator or your cock - they won’t stretch in the way she imagines it. 

The third finger she inserted was a good try, you’ll give her that. You can’t help but be enamored. 

Suddenly, she’s switching out names. First, your name and then Yunjin’s. That’s a new piece of information you’ll save for later. Ignoring the question of how weird because this was already fucking insane as it is; you’re slowly pumping your shaft in time with her upward thrusts, grip your shaft to mimic the pressure and emulate how the skin would be coated in her soaking wetness, listening closely to the squelching getting louder and louder it seems. 

Kazuha’s legs are flush against the mattress, as far as she could get them. She’s flexible enough to do it, opening up more room for her other hand to get a fill of her desperate cunt. A sweet view. You’re lucky to have witnessed it in real time. 

Shit, you’re silently cursing to yourself. Wishing that you would’ve abstained in committing such a wicked act. 

But you keep pumping, delusion plaguing your mind. You’re lost in the sights, the sounds, her face wobbling to more rapturous, tucking her hand and tilting her hips like those other guys have done to her, the heat tugging them tightly - God, she doesn’t let up with the lovely moaning. 

“Mmm, yes, right there-” 

Seeing Kazuha like this feels undeserved. 

“Please, please-” 

“What is it. Kazuha? Want some help there?” You ask mindlessly, slipping out of your sweats some more to open up your legs. 

And when she says your name again: “I need you here with me.” 

“I’m not far,” you answer, gaze crestfallen and wistful. 

You lower your guard when the rush of euphoria begins to spread within. The sensation of jerking yourself had the capacity to wear you out just how you wanted. Because of this, when you eventually look back up, you can see the glint of watered eyes watch across from you - in between the valley of her breasts, toned legs and reddened knees. “Look at you, so handsome,” she says, hand circling her clit faster. Harder. Fingers increasing in pace to match your strokes rather than the other way around. 

“Fuck, you look so good-” you grunt with buckling knees. A familiar, aching tension in your stomach, the pin rising to the peak in your balls. The wonders of having a pretty best friend. 

“Yeah?” she murmurs. “Like this? My pussy out wide open for you? Why don’t you walk back here and plug it up?” 

“No need. You’re doing good, so fucking good. I’ll keep myself here- holy shit.” 

“Would feel-” Kazuha wheezes, a relieving proposition. “Even better, with you.” She says it like it’s some forbidden truth. 

In an alternate reality, she’d be right. 

“Think so?” Jesus fucking christ, you’ve lost it. In the current affair, this is all that mattered. “You’d prefer my dick to split your guts up instead of your fingers?” 

“God, yes.” 

“Want me to take care of that pretty little cunt of yours?” 

Kazuha sighs once more, confirming the question for you. It didn’t take much to work her up in general; if you didn’t have the remaining ounces of common sense, you could’ve dropped your pants right at the door and get even more dirty with the arousal pouring relentlessly out of her stuffed hole. It wouldn’t be a bad idea right? Cleaning up her mess with your hands, your mouth, gurgle down the endless stream of her pussy where there’d be multiple threads dripping down her legs. Fucking hell, you really could if you wanted to. 

Though you don’t move a single muscle besides your hand. 

“C’mon, more. Just a little more,” she groans, breath hitching every other second. You can feel the air get tighter, the vibrations in your throat tremoring along with every tense fiber of muscle. Coming down to a fine point, overtaking you. 

You’re just as shameless as her. 

The piercing wail of your name off her lips sounds broken, eyes clenched shut when you finally fall off that peak. You cum all over your fingers, spurting and smearing across the skin - fuck, it comes in a panic when some of it spills on the hardwood, but you could care less since it blends in well with the color. How you managed to remain standing from your high was a mystery, knees bending forward while the twitching continued to pass.

Kazuha tenses her body from the erratic movement of her chest, struggling to calm down from her orgasm. Through your sated, lidded eyes, you watch her frame relax, head falling over to the side, hand plopping over to the edge like someone shot a bullet through her on the spot. 

“Kazuha.” You huff, hoping for a response. “Kazuha?” 

Yep, she’s knocked out. 

You take a minute or two to return to your senses, looking back at Kazuha’s body to ensure she was fast asleep. Staring at the gentle shift of her arm cuddling the pillow she just rode on, you found it best to let her deal with the clean up later in the morning when she’s fully sobered up. 

A really big ‘if’ for later: her remembering everything she did from last night. You’re swearing that it doesn’t happen - hoping you don’t breathe a word of what you’ve seen or did. 

(It would be a huge problem on your hands, and an even worse one if it becomes hers.) 

Fuck, she would be mortified. 

–

“You look like shit,” Yunjin tells you later that morning, chin perched up and eyes squinted. “Didn’t you and Kazuha come back together 30 minutes later?” 

“Something like that,” you sigh, giving up the effort in holding back your yawn. “Slow mornings are always harder than the actual day.” 

“Hangovers are never kind.” 

You shrug. “Some of us can handle it better than others.” 

Right on cue, you and Yunjin glance over to see a tired Kazuha sitting alone on one of the chairs near the kitchen. Her hoodie is up and both hands are on her face to hide the subtle cough. She looks like she could sleep for another eight hours after breakfast, and it most definitely could happen. The plate in front of her is cleaned off: holding the knife and fork, coated with syrup and clearly ran through. 

Yunjin gives you a look, probably along the lines of: ‘are you sure nothing bad happened to her?’ 

You purse your lips and open the fridge, with a cold water bottle now in your hand. 

From then on it’s a silent exchange: Yunjin walking over to Kazuha and caressing the back of her head, Kazuha looking and nodding to let her know she’s alright before going on with the rest of her unproductive day. 

As for your part: you slide the bottle over to her with two more tablets of aspirin for her to take. For insurance, you insist. She’s someone you know very well who can’t function properly unless there’s some sort of responsible figure who can facilitate and keep an eye on her condition. 

It isn’t like her to be awfully quiet at times, so you fill in that role of the opposite as needed. 

“How’s your head?” You ask, voice lowered that you don’t scare the poor girl. “Gotta say, I’m jealous you got better sleep than me for once.” 

Kazuha leans back on the chair with her eyes trained on you. The occasional beep of the smoke detector above goes on for a few seconds when you see the tip of her tongue peek out and runs it along her teeth, contemplating. 

“Better,” she says. Her first words of the day. A small win. “Thank you.” 

You nod in approval, poking her forehead for some fun. “Great. No going out for you today. Not until you’re back to normal. You know the rules.” 

The gentle clatter of the silverware along the plate compliments the soft scuffle of your feet along the floor. You’re not thinking too much about what happened last night, drawing up the conclusions that it was a one-time thing. Anything beyond that reason would bring in plausible deniability. 

But you carry on with the simple house chore with Kazuha unknowingly staring from behind: biting her lip. 

–

Ironic about the unproductive day, you do everything but that. 

Emails, papers, evaluations, your endless editing of the resume, the Spoitfy window with the classical music playlist, all of it eats up the time. With the occasional step out to grab some food or a cup of water - or maybe Yunjin piggybacking you as an attempt to get you away from the desk- 

“I know you big baby,” you wheeze, feeling Yunjin’s nose against the nape of your neck, “Just let me finish one more thing and then we can do something. Promise.” 

“You said that last time,” she groans, corralling her arms tighter on your shoulders, toes barely touching the floor, “Maybe I should change the password to your desktop so you don’t go to it first thing in the morning. It’s a dangerous addiction.” 

“It’s called a routine,” you rebuke. 

“I know your password,” argues Yunjin. 

“Might have to change it again.” 

She gets off when you settle back in the office chair, her arms still wrapped and pressing her lips on to your cheek, making you giggle at the sudden assault of touches. To her defense, they’re pretty effective - her way of swaying you to lose your concentration. You don’t think twice when she forces you to put down the phone before lunch or dinner, or when you’re out with friends and she thinks it would be a great idea to send you nudes knowing very well that it’s not meant to be seen publicly. Her hair starts to pool over your front, smelling like apple rose and aloe. “So you’re saying it’s not ‘huhyun108’? Are you serious?” And she’s got you all figured out - the many angles of pressure points to slowly give in towards. Picking and choosing her battles carefully, but you don’t go down from a fight that easily. 

“Gonna change it now, actually,” you say, fast tapping on the keyboard. “Find it best for you not to look.” 

Yunjin cackles as you’re pushing her face away, pulling the chair along with you. 

–

Yunjin doesn’t have to do too much: all it takes is one breath and a few sly words and she gets what she wants. 

She’s adamant with what’s hers: lipstick mark on your neck? That’s Yunjin. Her white scrunchie on deck at your wrist for when she can’t deal with her hair? Also Yunjin - supplying to the demand was always her kind of thing. 

It’s midweek, at the point in the day where things get stagnant and there isn’t anything of interest to note, the usual grace period where the thought of doing nothing is considered the best option. Yunjin keeps watching that same netflix series, dissatisfied with how the current season played out. To compensate: she rewatches the second season for the sixth time and her key point was the fact the two most popular contestants really hit it off, but never got together. 

That wasn’t the main concern, however. 

“She hasn’t been out of her room since yesterday,” Yunjin pouts, long legs stacked on top of yours and restraining. “I’m getting a little worried.” 

“I saw her go to the kitchen and back earlier,” you inform, tossing popcorn into your mouth. “She did have that pilates session around lunch. You know Zuha, and her cardio.” 

“That door’s been shut a little too long,” she mumbles, not entirely ruling out your observation. “I know that there’s the unspoken rule for privacy, but I’m genuinely curious what the girl’s been up to. She seems a bit-” 

“Closed off?” You fill in, completing the train of thought. “You may be right with that.” 

“Mmm,” Yunjin agrees. 

“Wait it out some more, then we’ll see what happens.” 

–

(You wonder a bit too much, and get caught off guard as a consequence. 

You haven’t moved from the couch, with Yunjin fast asleep at your side. The position so comfortable, you could honestly pass out here and wake up eons later - a tempting idea to entertain, and a plausible action to consider. 

Kazuha appears from the hallway, rubbing the tiredness off from her three hour nap. A bit bizarre to nap past 8 PM, but that’s her thing. Her shirt is so baggy that it covers some of her thighs, toes spread on the floor before she continues to make headway to the fridge. Hair frizzled in messy waves and moving gently in every step. 

So you initiate first, “Hey,” and you layer that with a lean back of the head of the couch so she can see you better in the dim light. “Everything good?” 

Kazuha twists her body towards your voice, gaze stoic and quiet, fingers twisting the bottle cap open and fiddling it around. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all.” 

“Good to know,” and your words come casual. Unbothered. As if you heard enough to carry on and leave her be, aware that she’s able to interact again. “Happy to hear your voice, like alive- or something.” 

“You sound worried,” says Kazuha, cringing. “Ew, don’t do that. It’s weird.” 

She doesn’t know you can hear her snort from the couch. 

“But you are okay, right?” You ask again. Kazuha’s backside twisting once more to face you, blinking carefully. Her expression shifts to something more misty, unclear. All she gives is a nod and hum. Doesn’t say anything after. 

At least she tells you that much.)

–

Okay, it’s probably bad that you’re keeping an eye on Kazuha - reserving a spot in your head to revisit that night over and over. Maybe it means something, or it doesn’t. 

It really, really shouldn’t. Like at all. But the recurring thought fills your mind at some point between the passing days. 

“I’m heading out now.” Kazuha says to you sweeping through the kitchen, bag in hand and behind Yunjin. “Won’t be back until later probably.” 

“Where are you headed this time?” Yunjin leans over, resting her head. 

“Sakura called me to be her muse for her fashion portfolio. Said I fit the profile with the outfits she has in mind. Girl can crochet, but clothes? She has a really good fucking talent for them. I can see her go places.” 

“That’s our Saki,” Yunjin muses, hand up for Kazuha to acknowledge before making her way around the kitchen island, causing you to turn about face. She isn’t going to confront you about that (for God’s sake, you can’t stop thinking about it anyway), but rather stare you down because it’s the usual thing with her. 

It’s a little intimidating that she’s almost your height, with a body well maintained she could go twelve rounds if she wanted. Yunjin watches as Kazuha squints her eyes - works through the fridge for another cold bottle with her gaze trained on you. You and her exchange eyebrow expressions and read into the message through your eyes, Kazuha tilting her chin then breaking eye contact as you twist the other cheek. Next thing you know, her hand smacks your ass. 

“The fuck was that for?” You groan, clearly offended. “You’re the one who wanted the face-off.” 

“For being a dickhead,” Kazuha says with no color in her voice. “Also, thanks for saving me at the party while Sakura was getting railed outside. I owe you one.” 

“Amazing how you say things like that so casually,” you muse, cocking your head. “You’re welcome, I suppose.” 

Kazuha then flashes a look back with her hands now in the pocket of her hoodie. You can’t help but glance over to the defined frame of her face, the slope of her nose, her lack of makeup knowing very well that she’ll get a touch up from Sakura before the lookbook photoshoot. She’s painting a false picture with those baggy clothes she wears on a daily basis, but you and Yunjin are waiting to see the photos once they’re done. 

“Yunjin,” she says. 

“Hm?” Yunjin hums with food in her mouth. 

“Did I ever tell you about his decent looking face?” Kazuha concludes, tilting her head side to side for better angles. “Still a dickhead, though.” 

“Ha. Thanks.” 

She points her lips at you, a quirk of hers that she made as her habit. Her hand goes up in lieu of a goodbye and slides past the wall. 

–

“It’s hilarious because,” Yunjin catches herself mid snort, hand hiding her mouth, “The way they say Jurassic World is so funny to me. And the guy repeats it as ‘Jorassic Wurold’ like- the pronunciation is slightly off when he asks her about the movie.” 

You test the wording with your own mouth but emphasize on the syllables, trying to emulate what she observed from watching the other day. It distracts you from the assortment of ingredients spread out on the cutting table, falling into Yunjin’s shenanigans was always the daily driver no matter what the mood was on the hour. 

Midway through slicing some meats, you’re still practicing the wording on your lips. “Y’know, english is not everyone’s strong suit,” you tell her, portions set aside for some vegetables, leaning the other way to get a better view of your fingers, rolled up and not in the blade’s way, “gotta commend him keeping the conversation going. That takes effort.” 

Yunjin tilts the cup into her face, nodding in agreement; she’s got her legs crossed off the counter, feet pointed up when you glance back to see a hinted eyebrow. Bare face and long lashes fluttering - a light blush on her cheeks as she leans back and puts the bottom of the beverage upwards. 

She smacks her lips soon after, licking her teeth. “He was really into her, you saw it too.” 

The metal blade clacks against the wood. “Huh?” 

“Don’t ‘huh’ me. You know who.” 

“Dex?” 

“Dex,” she repeats, pointing the empty cup in your direction. 

“I saw it happening, don’t worry,” you say, attention drawn back to the chopped up greens now being placed into a bowl. “Part of me was convinced that they would be together when they met from the get-go.” 

For a quick fill-in: it hasn’t been that long since Kazuha went out, a little over thirty to forty-five minutes at most. In that time, you and Yunjin managed to get through a third of a series she picked at random before she started to get more touchy with you. Like the good boyfriend you are - ready at every beck and call, you oblige. Yunjin swung both of her legs onto the seat of the couch, easing into the slow graze of your hands on her thigh, hand cupping her hips and raising the arch in her back when she felt the hard press of your hips against hers. She hates it when it comes to the teasing, but she’s actually a hypocrite on the fact that she does it all the time when you have your legs spread either sitting or laying down; when your brains are fucked into oblivion while she’s on top, bouncing on your balls without a care in the world for damage control. But you broke her brain a little when you grinded into her clothed cunt for fifteen minutes until one of your guys’ stomachs grumbled which put everything on hold for now. 

(There’s always a red herring to be said. For this one in particular, you coined it as: “gotta have that fuel for later, especially if we’re going for more than two rounds.”) 

“Thought so too,” says Yunjin, projecting her own insights when she lets herself down from the polished marble, setting her bearings headway towards you, tending to the ingredients. 

A pot gets put on top of the stove behind you, along with the chopped veggies. “Didn’t he also say that it was a bit late for him to pursue her?” You ask, twisting the dial until the clicking sets the burner to life, gaze locked on Yunjin who stops an inch away. “Something about not being a reliability because of what she’s doing for her career?” 

“Somewhere along those lines, the gap wasn’t too bad either, five years if I recall,” Yunjin supplies, unsure. 

“She was a neuro major, Yunjin.” 

“So?” 

“Dex has his own thing going too, doesn't he?” 

“If you really think about it, I thought it could’ve worked between the two. Yes, he was into her. He was also very amazed with what she was doing with her life. Not to mention the fact that these two clicked the moment he entered the competition as the wild card compared to the other guys. Oh, and that bombshell reveal that she was attending Harvard? Literally gagged the hosts when it first happened. Don’t forget that she was attracted to him for a minute before nothing eventually came to be? I remember showing you the video of those two after the season aired and you can still see the chemistry in them. Some people say that it wouldn’t work out since the scenario is long-distance, but the mother approved of the guy for crying out loud-” You grin and shake your head. Yunjin’s left completely baffled because of it. “-okay, I’m still a firm believer that those two are endgame. That’s my point. I have evidence and a solid reason to back it up. Go ahead, try and test me.” 

“No, I hear you.” You reel her in for a hug while her hands are on her hips. “If it were me, I would’ve thought long and hard about making a big commitment like that.” 

Yunjin sighs, hands sliding up your back. “I know. I really liked their vibe together.” 

Your hands get full of her ass, beneath the fabric of her shirt, laying prints in the mix of skin and threads. Yunjin puts her arms around your neck loosely, stacked and hanging with the slightest pull from her elbows. It’s in the most innocent of pretense, the suggestion heavily implied without the use of words at all. She leans up while you tilt down, meeting in the middle for that overdue relapse of addiction: the lips. She sighs, teeth claiming your mouth as her own, pulling the lovely part of flesh that makes you want to hear those familiar octaves as her body crumbles from the greediness and weight of your touch. 

Every kiss feels like a swan song; the desire of never letting go, press your face deeper into hers, leave a mark on the refreshed canvas waiting to be painted in inspiration and curated for no one else in the world to see. You’re aware that she’s willing to incite change, create something new, get in the right mindset of a familiar avenue in your head where there’s nothing but desperation. It’s in how her fingers rake through your hair, weave down your waist, to your hips, close to the spot where she wants to bring you out the most. 

Think of it as her picking up where she left off on the couch. You could’ve done it right then and there, but you didn’t. 

“Should’ve thought long and hard about earlier, right?” Yunjin teases, half-drunk already with her slack lips. 

“There’s a reason why I set you on the counter in the first place,” you huff, pushing her body past the stove, pinning her against the drawer. “Because of this. I know you, Yunjin.” You then lift her back up to the spot where she started, height difference elevated by a mere few inches. The top of her forehead rests on yours. 

“Such a buzzkill,” she concedes, pouting her heart away like it doesn’t do anything to you. Arms holding you hostage as you try to break free from her grasp. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some kisses around here?” 

“Not a lot,” you offer. 

“Says the person who’s trying to get rid of me.” She doubles down, ankles to your backside and limits the movement. Her exhale is satirical, hoping you’ll dish out the punishment. 

“Your stomach thinks otherwise.” You declare. Pushing her legs apart and retreating. You look over to the kitchen for anything within reach, and settle for an apple. You further the distance between Yunjin to grab it, toss it over as she catches it effortlessly - bites down the fruit in defeat, satiating the cravings. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

(She would much rather have your lips again or even your cock. The fire’s already started, and the water begins to boil.) 

The space feels so far between you two, yet so small. Yunjin holds the apple with her teeth, watches you round the corner of the counter - sees your eyes dart to an open box, the bundle of pasta in the plastic, a knife- something to divert your attention for the time being while you’re forming a strategy in your head - a game plan as to how you’ll deal with her tonight. 

You see: you think you know Yunjin, every part of her body and mind, inside and out. 

She debunks the theory right out of the gate. In a million ways you can’t wrap your head around.  

All she does is straighten her posture, spreads her legs across the glossy wood, and lifts up the fabric past her hips. 

There’s nothing fucking underneath. Just sweet, smooth thighs and her pretty pink glistening  pussy lips. 

It gets your mind racing in confusion: 

“Since when did you-” you’re taken aback, torn from being half-shocked and not-so surprised, also doubling down on the fact she definitely had panties on beneath that shirt. “Didn’t you have something there just a few minutes ago?” 

Yunjin is a master of her art, the trickery in the highest rank imaginable. You envy her intellect at times - her charms, the ways that she can make you speechless just by being herself. This very girl within the walls of your home she claimed as hers, who managed to seep into the nooks of your brain, poisoning you from within until you can’t go for a second longer without wanting to see her gorgeous face, hear her voice; feel her pull you down back to earth while also sending you straight to heaven. None of it really makes sense with her, nor is supposed to. You could go through multiple lifetimes in the existence of the universe and she’ll still find a way to be in all of them. 

Though, she doesn’t give you any chance of solitude with your thoughts. She raises her right hand behind her back, middle and ring finger holding the nylon as her admission of guilt. 

It earns her a small shake of your head, disappointed and impressed in the same moment.  

“Sleight of hand, mister,” she tuts, victorious. Her thumb then grazes against the nylon before falling into its fated purgatory of the floor below. She catches you zoning out, doing two loud clicks of her tongue to keep your eyes on the prize. “My eyes are up here, by the way.” 

“Where did you think I was looking?” 

“Probably at something that matters.”

“And that is?” 

“Fuck if I know- oh wait, I do know. You’re just not doing anything about it.” 

“Want me to proclaim it out loud?” You inquire, sardonically - as if you were willing to play along with her little game of pragmatics, read into the lines of a script and catch the nuances of a hidden message past the sentences. “State the obvious since the naivety is starting to become unbearable for you?” 

“I never said that,” Yunjin rebukes. Hand sliding down to her legs - those dainty fingers having their own fun. 

And you begin your endeavor back to her. One graciously little step at a time. 

Your ears tick at the sudden hitch of breath, muffled by the apple blocking her mouth. It’s on purpose. God help her. She curls her fingertips at the first dip inside her cunt the more you glide over the floor. The weight of your feet becomes less heavier and lighter in every move. Yunjin’s head bumps the cabinet, hips tensing at the rush of her fingers sliding across her folds. She won’t fuck herself like this. No- she would prefer to have you deal the actual blows to her body when you’ve finally decided enough is enough. We’re getting there, don’t worry. Just. A little. Push. 

She finally lets the apple go from her mouth, off to where it’ll most likely be disregarded into the sink or the trash. You can’t stop the constant twitching your hands are doing; so while the pathway is clear, you take into account of the bubbling pot next to you, putting a lid on to make the gurgling much more muted, zero in on the vibrations rumbling in Yunjin’s throat, focus on the rise of her chest. 

Her head drops and to the side, the pull of fabric molding to her figure. Emphasizing on the curves of her waist, those mounds, the present appearance of her hard nipples. The implications clear as day in the form of a seductive summoning. 

But you start slowly: a hand to her knee, then the other. Anticipation is killing you both. 

Landfall.

“What am I gonna do with you?” You sigh, looking down at the sight of Yunjin touching herself, thick air being expelled from your lungs, wiping your inner self clean before repurposing to acclimate the need of getting dirty again. 

Yunjin pulls a lazy grin, beautifully - and leans back while her hips slips forward. Her grip guides your wrists over her skin, shirt hiked up past her waist and into her hips by the second. “You don’t have to say or do if you want to.” She offers, but that’s the setup. “Just wisely biding your time.” 

Not much of it has changed, the way you willingly sink down to your knees. You’re romantic about it - deserves a smirk for the appreciation. You glance up to her toffee shaded eyes, fingers rotating to hook firm on the peak of her thighs, extend your arms up high like she’s some sacred treasure, proffering. “Darling,” and the singular word sets the rest of the testament into place, the burgeoning intention of her demise at your hands. You think back to a week ago: where she found herself in the familiar pecking order, back on the linoleum with her elbow as faulty support, splitting her open and feel her body go limp when you made her cum like she suggested. Your mouth freezes with a gasp when you look closely at her seeping slit, heart stopped as you examine in awe. “I’ll have all the time in the world,” you mumble - or what’s close, honestly - into the plush surface of her thighs, brush your lips down a familiar path you know very well. “But you, gotta slowly show me you deserve it.” 

Her breath hitches again, hesitating. Nerves seizing muscle right where they are. 

“At this rate we’ll be here all night,” she hums, eyes torn from gazing down and spacing out to something in the distance. “Not that I mind, of course, but-” she then nibbles on her lip at the feeling of yours on her legs, deluded and washed over with lust to forget about everything else, “dinner’s still on the cards, yes?” 

“Pick up that apple. You eat while I eat, how bout that?” You propose the solution. One which Yunjin can’t ignore. 

She reaches for the apple and stares into the yellow crater, taking another bite. Cheeks full of fruity bits. “I could get used to this,” her jaw trembling and breath spilling out in a shudder. “Wouldn’t you rather hear-” 

Her neck loosens at the swipe of your tongue over her folds, apple tossed off to the side one more likely never to be eaten again. She leaks out a little more slick for you to clean up, and it’s delightful. Yunjin fancies the idea of scooting her hips forward, thighs hanging out and barely her ass on the counter, providing you more space to work with when your arms hook around the swell of her ass and pull her closer, hand quick to the crease of her knee to put her heel on your collarbone and takes her fingers into your hair, spread one side of her folds and dip your tongue in some more, consuming the warmth down your throat and eat her out alive. 

“Honey,” you proclaim with an arch to your eyebrow, breathless, “You’re fucking leaking.” 

Yunjin pulls this devilish grin, yanks your head back a little further back for you to look up, face twisted with madness. Staring deep into your soul, insatiable. “Your turn to eat, baby.” 

Very few people can play your game, but Yunjin was a whirlwind full of surprises. Each one more shocking than the last. 

“What’s wrong? Speechless?” she asks, but doesn’t give you a second to respond when she reels your head back in. 

So you put your mouth back what’s rightfully yours: press your tongue into her aching cunt and save the words for later. 

You hear her wince, picturing the pained expression in the creased eyebrows, eyes closed shut, jaw hung low. She grinds your face deeper, much deeper to the point where she’s needy enough to feel the light graze of your teeth. 

You slide your fingers into her, unfazed when her knees close your head in, giving you no chance to breathe. Her pants increase in pace, falling apart just a few inches above you. The sounds are absolutely wonderful, blessing you with the harmonious repertoire of moaning spilling out of her mouth - lapping up the wetness at the curl of your finger, cleaning up the salty sweetness of her arousal, slick spread across skin and the sensitive response of her clawing hand into your hair. 

Yunjin’s hair starts to pool over the front of her face, the sight alone is a delight in itself. The ripped collar showing more of her pale shoulder, handfuls of the shirt now undone as her other hand joins the fray on your head, body clenching and relaxing - unsure on which choice is the right one. You and her both listen in to the soft licks and wet smacks of skin and folds, hear her giggle in relief until your nose brushes up against her clit, throbbing core given a quick second of grace before you dive back in and don’t spare a chance for her to breathe. She asked for this, and you expect her to handle it as best she can. Until she’s whimpering and desperate and begging to be more useful than just your mouth and hands. Till she has to say the very words herself in what she wants, while her frame trembles delicately. 

More, more. The boiling pot next to you starts to bubble past the cover, droplets of water hitting the grill and sizzling. You push your tongue in deeper, get the gloss over your lips, pull her folds apart wider and hit the same spot where it kills her over and over, notice the curl of her toes into your shirt, dig her heel deep into the threads. Yunjin bites down her teeth, hand to her breast and gripping tightly. The bubbles start to lift the lid, popping. 

“Can you - be - even more - god, holy fuck-” she spits, words stuttering as her hips slide out over the edge, prompting you to hold her high, drop your jaw even more, kiss and suck the untouched areas and spread her legs. She gasps. “Baby,” she laughs even louder, slapping her palm down on the countertop, “God, I can’t believe-” 

She rucks her hips upward, mimicking a thrust. Your head fades out the rest of the outside noise. 

“-you, of all people-” And a moan pierces your ears, the sound heavenly. Yunjin’s hand palms the back of your head as you start to alternate an up and down motion. Her high imminent, in the curl of your knuckle and lick of your tongue pushing her closer to that pedestal. You push and pull, let the grip of her fingers guide you to the spots where she needs it. Her way of life: the taste of her; warm and addicting. “Fuck, s-shit, there- there! Right there-” 

You open your mouth even more, drinking her mess until she has you drowning in it. Her swollen cunt’s quivering. You can’t help yourself but smile. 

“Need your mouth, your tongue- your- fuck-” 

You’re happily swimming. 

It’s even better when her chest is puffed up, back arched. At a loss for words and just straight up gone. You hold her down as she’s shaking and suck her pussy for your own benefit - devouring her relentlessly, voice broken to a shriek as her juices gush around your tongue and fingers, groaning lowly while you carry on licking the mix of plush-soaked skin, feel the lingering effects of her orgasm leave her body with a harsh pull of her clit on your lips. 

She’s trying everything to calm down, head lightly tapping the cabinet behind her. Clawed fingers releasing their grasp as you help yourself up, legs loosely wrapped around yours and posture reduced to a slouch. “Hate you, by the way. I hate you the way that you are.” She tells you, arms barely placed on your shoulders, slipping. “Why do you have to be so good at being a douche?” 

“Don’t follow your point,” you dart back with a sigh. Height restored and hands back to where they started: on her knees; you cock your head to the right, get a closer look at Yunjin’s messy hair, rumpled shirt, thighs glistening and pink- 

She smacks the side of your neck, earning a pitiful laugh. You’re aware that she loves these kinds of treatments: the kind of treatment where you want her to tenderly run her hand down your face, whisper in your ear of all the things she wants you to do, sliding deep into her cunt and let the heat consume you, wanting - you’ve got get a grip, seriously. She has your head spiraling and somehow you always come out on top of it; the usual bouts where the victor has already been decided. “One day, you’ll see what I mean.” 

“I have a hard time understanding you and Kazuha as it is,” mouth agape, bearing no mind to the act she’s trying to pull. Unpredictability was one of Yunjin’s strong suits and that was no surprise: peeling her shirt off over her shoulders and lifting the veil hiding the endless curves of her body - the slutty little waist, long thighs, her breasts- 

“Maybe I can help you with that,” she offers, lacking judgement. Her hand slips underneath your sweats, fingers taking hold of your cock, confirming her suspicions. Your mouths meet once again, sloppily, you giving leeway after eating out her cunt and in return she has you twitching. “Goodness me,” she mutters into the warmth of your mouth, tempted, rubbing that effect on you. “I bet you’re just dying to stick this inside of me already.” 

“Watch your mouth.” 

“Or what-” she grins lazily. 

You grasp the skin a little bit tightly as your other hand cups her cunt, the heel of your palm digging into her clit. 

“-fuck, that’s what you meant,” her voice diminishing with lidded eyes. 

You then quickly take into account the small funnel of air blowing from the cover; the whirr of the vent above coming to life. 

Yunjin scoots herself over the counter, sees you tug your cock out of pants, lip to teeth as it gently touches her skin. It’s all part of the pecking order, how things build up high to eventually fall - second nature, muscle memory, all the same. 

She’s got her arms and legs around you, inching her hips forward to speed up the process, hopeful in you wrecking her body as always: “You know, not talking isn’t gonna get you everywhere if you don’t do it,” she goes on, no care for your fidgeting hands rubbing up and down her thighs. 

“What the hell is this, a silent treatment?” she asks again, impatience starting to get to her. “C’mon, say something.” 

You serve her anything but that, slicking your fingers with her cum and tap the pads into her skin, gently feeling her sensitive clit to make her lose her train of thought. She’s incessant, but it’s rare for her to be less on the offensive in pressing you for once, so you’ll take full advantage of it. 

“What do you want me to say? I’ve already told you about my observations,” you answer, digits sliding in her cunt and the girl just nods. She’ll notice but still talk out of her ass, since she loves the thrill. Her accompanying grin along with the lip bite and wink sells the whole image, leans you in with the shirt wrapped around your neck, pulling. The small twinge of romance attached. 

The shirt then crumples on the floor when she lets go. 

“That I’m fucking leaking? You sucked me clean, I can barely feel my legs.” 

“Right,” you laugh, working her face some more until her hands go languid. 

Her look goes curt, dismissive. Lashes fluttering in every blink because that’s the second best thing she has in her bag of tricks, aware of the double-edgedness it ensues. She inhales sharply, quick, sudden, bracing the tip of your cock sliding across her folds. “How long has it been since you last fucked me? Yesterday? Two days ago? Finally having your fun since I sucked you off last time, hm?” 

“I don’t need to answer that,” you rebuke. “There’s no point to it.” Is the everlasting conclusion. 

She cocks her head to the left. Elbow holding her up in the best way she can, arching her back again, your cock in position at her awaiting entrance, cup your fingers into her hip. “Don’t blame me for killing you this time.” 

Her face steadies, frozen. Then: the lines of her face warble, mouth dropping. Cunt inviting your tip pressing in. 

“Like I ever would,” she scoffs, right hand to the back of your neck, clinging. “This is what I wanted, remember?” 

(The way that she’s spread, heel hooking to your knee, she’s stripped and defenseless against you. It’s the guilty pleasure you have as her pussy accommodates you, all wet and inviting that it won’t be a struggle to fit in one seamless push. Regardless: that part alone makes sense.) 

“Question is,” you murmur during the break of eye contact, staring lower at the view of your cock finally slips inside and see the quick contraction of her stomach - like she was ready to take a punch to the gut - glancing back up and watch her eyelids flutter at the feeling. “You can’t do anything in this situation, can you?” This girl just came in your mouth a few minutes ago but she’s takes you in with no problem: filling every inch of you in a beautifully fucked up missing piece that she’s constantly deprived of every time. You dig your fingers deep into the skin, stop halfway, then continue to wrench out every inch of her walls. 

“God,” Yunjin grits, breath seething in the gaps of her teeth, brows furrowed. “Go to- fuck-” 

She doesn’t even finish the sentence when you push further. Replaced with a moan instead; her cheeks and nose wrinkle, fingers balled up to a fist behind and her elbow shaking. Her head barely keeping herself together with the cabinet as a last support, failing terribly. 

You stop your movements because the lines on her face are forming toward a familiarity: nervous, dazed, hesitant. A quick twitch of your head negates all of those thoughts away and instead focuses on ramming your hips into her, the clash of skin rippling through you and her both. 

It’s the bravado that she carries, the playfulness, her shift of her sly words, withering and fading at the amount of you: she’s fighting every fiber of muscle to sputter out her needs, though the sweat and slick spread out over body make up in the defilement of her undoing. You can see through her bullshit, and all she sees is the glide of your shaft back into her pussy - the width of you stretching so effortlessly her body forms a jagged line along the frame, mewling and bucking forward. Your fingers hold her hips still, drag your cock along the tightness, fill her up until she says otherwise. 

“Makes no sense,” Yunjin huffs, gasping, head halfway in the gutter, trying to form a point. Her hands try to carry out her words, clinging, cock-full at the lean up, foreheads clashing. She whines into your skin, “Jesus- holy shit, dear fucking Christ-” 

You’ll swallow her words and understand her completely. 

Well- to say that her hot cunt is incredible would suffice so much. The more you push, the more the connection feels like it’s meant to be, in all the filth and the intimacy that’s thrown without thinking of the repercussions after. 

You’ll give your praises and thanks - how her pussy grips around your cock so snug and tight and perfect, sing it into the skin and walls around you, paint it over as many times you’d like. To have a girl like her: a muse, with the desire and hunger impossible to resist, make you sink deeper and deeper where it won’t feel suffocating. 

“Yeah?” you hear yourself say. Like you needed to explain yourself again. “Wouldn’t you know it.” 

The strokes. You’re fucking up into her so nicely, give her no chance to breathe, legs hooked around your thighs. She’s opening up her body to you - you’re marking your own territory: shower her face with kisses, suck the skin across her neck, slide your arms underneath her back and keep pounding at the one angle where the trembling reaches her throat, presses her tongue to the back row of her teeth. 

Christ, you really have no care; roughing her up on the kitchen counter right before dinner time. The fan above you two continues to whirr the smoke in the air where it masks the bundle of moans and curses spewing out of her lips. You could feel her fingers drag across your back, keeping herself close to you, fearful that you’ll stop like earlier and make her beg for more until she has her fix. 

“Baby, baby, holy fuck,” you follow her voice, brushed up against your ear, sift your eyes back onto her and watch her loose mouth. She swallows, grazing the crown of her head to yours. “This cock, I fucking love it. I fucking love it so much, I could die here with how you’re-” 

You shut her up, meet in the middle. Line up the beating of your heart to the move of your hips, lock your arms around her back; she’ll come crawling for that high again, blinded by the guarantee of you forcing her orgasm later. 

“Yunjin,” you grit. Nearing that inevitable crash-out. It’s a never ending cycle of madness. Her cunt is eating your cock alive, soaking your waist. You want it all. 

You want her to cum again: this time on your cock; you want to carry her in her arms, fuck your cock without her feet touching the ground; you want her to scream your name so loudly that it breaks the windows around the house. You’ll never have enough of the indescribable body and feeling that she has, ruining you over and over - not to mention her mouth - that too, is another dangerous addiction. 

A fair bout. The fight for who's bolder. Who can make the other person more vulgar by the second. 

These things have been decided right from the start. 

Yunjin muffles a whimper behind her lips, cock clogging up her cunt like she’s backing away, hiding. 

“Need it, need it so fucking much,” she hushes. “You- your cock. Can never get enough of my pretty little cunt - fuck I should just let you fuck me all day, all night, whenever you feel like it.” Her voice is rasped, the words alone sinister: “Warm you up when you least expect it, yeah? You’d like that, don’t you-” She yelps, nose scrunching when you bottom out and press your groin up against her clit, stomach contracting and relaxing as if she’d done five minutes of planking. 

So you drag out and thrust in - slam your hips into hers, holding the motion there, repeating it soon after. Her hand files up to the cabinet door above and shove your cock down to the hottest point, where the wobbles of her waist finally reach up to her tits. 

Because that’s really the only thing there is to it. Brain fucked out to mush with the marks and glistening sweat spread across, remnants of what the short period has passed. 

Like you can’t help yourself. It’s in the enamored looks, the pockets of air siphoned before it’s coughed out, in the blissful enjoyment of fucking your slick cock in and out. “Holy shit,” she’s saying, head toppled off and arm going limp. She saves the energy for other than talking - let the waves of pleasure sweep her body and have you project her thoughts out for her: delirious and maniacal. “I hear- yeah- Okay. Okay, you said it yourself.” 

Of course she agrees, and she knows. Whittled down to the fine rawness of it. What else is there left to say? 

She’s amazingly gorgeous and beautiful - a gift from God himself. You remind her every time like it’s the first. When her lips met the end of your cock months ago, blowing your world away, the stretch of her pussy swallowing you whole and the tension was undoubtedly abysmal. Another second passes a shared breath: Yunjin-god-fucking-dammit, and there’s a bunch of other shit that gets said, listless and nonsensical where the only thing left to do is let the blistering warmth and clashing tongues do all the work for the both of you. 

It’s normal: the way that she clings like she hasn’t seen you for days - leaning back with an arch and quite literally her feet off the ground. 

Every moan sounds punctuated lazily, whining and whimpering and in a pitch where she almost sounds scared. 

Still, she’s lost the plot: “Fuck me.” 

That’s where everything clicks, a flame extinguished and replaced for something new, something profound: her face clenches in the quick swap of pain to relief, when you’ve put your cock at a spot inside where she sobs; the pleasure so intense the both of you exhale in unison, almost like a ‘got you’ moment entirely. 

“Honey,” you say against her cheek, fingers planted in the divot of her lower back, spreading her so well the motion is absolutely seamless, a perfect fit and pace to ruin. “Look at you, so lovely; this fucking cunt feels amazing; oh my goodness.” Your words are making sense, barely, but it’s always on this path since you’ve met the girl; you just can’t help yourself. “I adore this pussy a little too much, don’t you think?” 

“So funny, ah-” she quips, a smile brandished across her lip, eyes rolling to the back of her head, holding on to the last bits of common sense left, knowing well there’s no point. “I’d let you, to be honest. A good deal: my pussy for your cock. Fair trade?” 

“Fuck yes,” is what slips out of your mouth, a truth to savor for eternity. “Want it all.” 

It goes both ways: she wants to peg complete bullshit to you, say her fantasies of how big of a slut she can actually be, fuck that snark out of her until she’s satisfied - but then you watch and listen to the more mundane things she does, and your head can’t comprehend it either. You want her, her mind, her body, the secrets that she keeps locked up in a box sunk in the bottom of a river; things that she doesn’t want anyone to find out about; where the dares of admission only comes once in a blue moon and she tries to pass it along in conversation. 

You could make an endless list as to what makes Yunjin a treasure to behold, to keep - proclaim it out loud like you haven’t done so already - a collapsing, beautiful madness, honestly. She’s holding you so close and you can’t afford to let go. That’s just how it is. All it takes is one look into her eyes and you never want to leave. 

“You’re amazing,” you say to her, breathless. 

Yunjin’s lashes flutter shut immediately after. As if you had to tell her again and again. 

Her hips stay still while yours continue to move, every aftershock sent through her body creates these ridges you’re proud of, ankles to the swell of your ass, clamping around your cock, grinding teeth with her voice croaking: “-good, so good, so fucking good, please, for the love of God-” 

Her upper lip arches the more she inhales, mouth hung open as the moans crumble on top of each other. Most have complained about the increase in occupancy, the hollers of a drinking game, midnight conversations about relationship mishaps and failures, bassline of a song that reverberates on the drywall and the occasional shouting battles that usually ended up stopping after a few minutes. Your neighbors do hear the constant pounding at some point during the day, annoyed and fed up like they didn’t want to have the fun themselves, each thrust bouncing her where her breasts jiggle on the upstrokes, palm full of them, the feel firm and heavy; and you look at her face again - where a certain crease of skin, above her brow, and you know that she’s going to lose it over your cock, how her limbs will surrender willingly, reduced to mush and cradling the fuck through her. 

Yunjin’s arm springs forward over your shoulder. You pull her up, sit upright, body bouncing with her ass well off the counter, the angle primed and ready where the shocks to her ass start to become a cushion, tits wobbling and hypnotic and bouncing; you keep- keep fucking her little hole with no regard for her life. 

It’s right where she wants you to be. 

You’ll lay your flowers later, if you’re even alive to tell the tale: how Yunjin is completely destroyed by your shaft. Her hair frazzled, eyes half open and head tilted towards shame and in the closest iteration of a cocksleeve it could get. She’s so fucked into oblivion where it’s worth having served the verdict. The last moments of light that you want to keep forever, stay as long as you can. 

When her lips meet yours, sweeping: a part of you starts to break beneath the cracks. 

She’s trying so hard to keep a hand to your waist, then the counter, but you’re holding with every bottom out at the base and you entertain the idea where you could go any deeper, fuck her harder- 

“Just-” she pleads, into your mouth, right on your tongue. “Yours. All yours. Fuck me like it’s the only thing that matters-” 

“Jen,” you groan out raggedly, lock your elbows to her chest, matching the drag of her nails. 

“Gonna cum so much,” is what you think she says. “Look at you, such a good boy.” Her pointer finger grazes the line of your jaw. “Plugging me full, I know you love it,” she dryly laughs, lightly pinching your hip when she hears the hint of a squelch of your cock sliding back in her, “this big, fucking cock,” and she’s really not helping you in this situation, claiming you as her own, soul snatched with no hope of returning it: “Pumping and pumping until I can’t get enough. Fuck. You’re so good at this, so fucking naughty. Got you all hard and needy for me - pounding my poor little pussy just to set me right,” this girl is fucking demonic, with the stuff that she’s telling you, her body right there in your hands; you haven’t been thinking straight since you’ve gone down on her - that cunt, her pussy lips gliding your cock with her slick soaking you endlessly- 

“Shut the fuck up,” is what you manage, a futile attempt to stop her. Like it would ever work at all. “Don’t do that. Don’t do this to me.” It’s impossible. You’re so easy to trick, gullible enough to fall for anything that comes out of her mouth, let her take the advantage and leave you with nothing at the end. She believes that you’ve had your fun, and the turn switches back to her. 

“Or what?” Yunjin smiles, nearing bliss. “Wanna cum on me? In me? Use your words, baby boy.” 

You swear, or something close to that. 

The rush becomes too much to bear, the thought of doing what she exactly wants: pulling your cock out of her tight cunt and paint your load all over her stomach, or- the more addicting idea of burying your dick inside her so deep that your release has a one way trip - you simply just- can’t. You shouldn’t. Not because to play it safe, but you’re safeguarding the responsibility of the filthiness that comes with it - what you could do - what you’ve done to her. Instead, you should throw her onto the floor, on her knees, shove your cock down her dirty mouth and cum in her throat or on her face, watch her clean up the mess you’ve made, press the thick tip of your cock on her plump lips and have her taste the sweetness of you. Have her drink it down until she has those doe brown eyes of hers looking up in acceptance. She’s beautiful: in the most fucked up, soaking, ginger-haired possible way imaginable. 

“Let- let me-” you sputter towards a growl, but you can’t keep up with her words and replace it with the pace - how her cunt fits your cock so well like a perfect shoe, lengthy frame detrimental to yours. “Fuck, just let me-” 

“Mhm,” she hums, unfazed. 

“Fuck this slutty little cunt of yours,” you finally manage, and more of a promise already written; you continue to fuck into her, snap your hips in where your balls start knocking above the pucker of her ass, working your cock along those velvety walls, feel the gush with every squeeze of muscle along her pussy, stretching amazingly with the clench. 

“Keep going.” She prods at your waist. 

Oh, she knows where this is going. It’s hot. It’s diabolical. It just feels right. You’re convinced that she’s figured you out, but playing dumb on purpose to see you admit it right in front of her. She sees the quick rise and fall of your chest - your shoulders, fingers grasping pale skin as it turns to something crimson, glance at the devilish smile she possesses that severs all the nerves in your brain: you are so fucking down bad for this woman, and you can’t do anything about it. 

“Keep-” 

“I know,” and you do. 

“Love this. Love you. Love everything that’s happening,” says Yunjin, praising. “Tell me all the things- the things you want to do to me.” 

“Sweetie,” you gasp at the next firm thrust, “gonna put my cock in your mouth, fuck your throat until you choke,” you snap, madness fully consmed, “fuck your holes full and then-” 

Then what? Have her ask to pound her ass? Ride you? Make her scream with the doors wide open? What more could you say or do that isn’t in the cauldron of pure insanity- 

“Use me more,” Yunjin sighs, and that’s the crystal clear thought pulled right out of your cock, “take me, grab wherever, I just need- god, your cum- want your cum so fucking much,” each word in that sentence rising an octave, “Cum,” a simple mantra, a demand. Yunjin’s creaming cunt, filling her up whole, you’re gonna burst inside and she’ll happily accept it as a gift, getting off on the sound ripping through your chest, hips bucking, legs tensing, her lower half quivers beneath you; attitude reduced to soft sounds, you taking full advantage with the fall-off imminent. 

Some of these things, you can’t afford to think; fucked up as it is, it’s better to revel in the silliness and disregard the common sense. 

“Oh fuck,” you hear her breathe, tone low and insanely turned on, her smile already showing she’s won. “Fuck yes-” 

But even if you’re splitting her insides apart, a small fraction of control rests within you, feeling the curves of her body ripple, in a slowing rhythm, pound her cunt for one more second and finally give her the reward. 

A rope of cum is all she gets on the inside; as for the rest- 

“Yes- wait no, fuck- what are you doing?” Yunjin sounds completely in shock for what you’ve committed, snuff the flame out from her pulsing cunt, slide yourself out of the tightness, hold her leg up since she’s too weak to resist. You’re going to hell, but so is she. Painting all over the flat plane of her stomach, coating her pale skin with your cum. “You fucking bitch- that doesn’t belong there,” but she’s too fucked out to do anything about it, and you don’t even bother to dish out a good comeback, let the actions do the talking for you: “Put it back, please, please,” and you do as she says. 

It’s a fresh feeling, the way her warmth envelops your soft cock, holding it so nicely as you help her sit back up properly. Mouth back on you instantaneously. 

“I’m gonna get back at you,” is what she says against your grazing lips, brushing her cheek along the tip of your nose. Her nails lightly scratch your back, ruffles into your hair. “If you’re up for it, you’ll follow.” 

“Challenging me? A bit crude, even for you,” you remark - she grins into your face, slides off the counter, fingers dancing along your slick, softening cock. 

A familiar look in her eyes. Telling you, yeah, I know - underlying the surface, but she’s got her entire hand in every crook of your brain, unfaltering: “We’ll see.” Then she says, “Get your ass on the sofa.” 

–

If there’s anything you learned about Yunjin: she never backs down from her word. 

Oh- and your mouth’s formed in the way she wants it to be. You’ve got it all wrong there, too. 

She tells you to keep your hands on the seat, at the sides and on the ready; impulsively, you want to pick up right where you left off from the kitchen, eyes locked between your legs, her head graciously bobbing up and down, vibrations all over the sensitive surface - feeling the pinching cramp in your backside, tensing the muscle, swallowing the opposite end of you with ease. 

Her lips stop halfway when you raise your hand a bit too high for her liking. 

“Fuck me, Yunjin,” you mutter, watching her sink your cock into her throat. “Don’t do that.” 

Yunjin flashes a glare, flutters her eyelids shut, drags her head back up and gasps. Her mouth is one thing. Her hands? They show you no mercy. You’ve been in this scenario before - a lot of times for some quick context, so tonight isn’t any different. She’s working you tightly at your balls and the base, intending to wring you clean of the release you should’ve left inside her. The one-two punch killer enough to leave you paralyzed from the waist down; she runs her mouth on the tip, tongue tracing a vein and the underside, curling her fingers and stroking so delicately- 

Yeah. You’re pretty much fucked like this. It’s a losing situation. 

Your head falls back while your hips slide forward, turning your body over to her mouth which earns a moan in response. The look on her face is deadly, and the sounds ripping through your chest implicates your high not far to reach. Those fucking plump lips: well parted and sliding all over her spit, moving back up and sinking again, the suction a bit more forceful the second time around, cheeks puffing and hollowing, blinking dutifully. 

She knows how badly you want to fuck her face, shove your cock into her mouth and expect a reward in return. Yunjin knows you want to get there, eventually, pulling herself off and twists your shaft, sees the tilt of your chin to the ceiling, relishing the submission. 

“So fucking hard,” she grins, examining the mix of her spit and slick all over you, listening to the wet noises she created. “I can’t wait to taste your cum again.” 

She’s too good for your own sake, and you can’t fight back on it. 

“Be a good little toy and relax,” Yunjin instructs gently. Puckering her lips and slapping your sensitive head all over them. Soft. Lucious. Sinful. Her innocent blinks fail to cover it, nor the fact how pretty she looks with a pensive expression: it’s evil. “Let me take care of you, okay?” 

You nod right away and she dives back down. Her tongue rubs around the tip between her lips, flattening to slide you into the softness and sleek feeling of her throat, bathing you with spit when your hips produce the slightest hitch. She’s had enough practice with you - to know how her tongue moves in all the ways she knows you love, easily bottoming the whole length like she has before, determined to hear you groan in rapture, and you do. 

“Christ, Yunjin- baby-” you grit, and your head falls back to the head of the couch. 

When she sucks, you flex your ankles forward. The mess worsens before it gets better, streams of drool leaking over your cock. She spreads it around with her mouth, her fingers, palm flattening, her lips fully sealed at the root, her nose digging into your waist. You’re amazed and how well she takes you, holding her head down for a few seconds - that’s the personal trial she set for herself: how long she could keep you there, the flex in her neck, gurgling and choking. It’s also dangerous in the fast switch up from the clamp of her throat to the alternating pace of her flushing your cock in and out, deepthroating you to the point where she can feel your whole body twitch. A pressure point, cutting the line until it’s completely severed. 

You’re sucking so much air into your lungs, creating a pocket at your waist. She pops her mouth off the tip and has the audacity to cackle in your face. 

She’s testing the endurance to it’s limit, her slick hands wrapped well around your shaft when she tends to your balls, getting mouthful of each one and peppering them with licks and kisses, hair pooling over your waist and to your thighs, knowing how good she as at fucking breaking you. There’s no denying that your girlfriend is an irresistible cockslut and personal toy, since the part goes both ways when it’s the right occurrence. Once she’s through the few moments of breathing, her jaw slacks and takes you back in, hearing you huff at the subtle graze of her teeth. 

The moan sputters out on impulse as you get careless and place your hand to Yunjin’s cheek, rubbing a thumb below her eye, and you could see the tick at the corner of her mouth break into a smile. She lifts her head up, giggles at the shudder of your thighs when her teeth taps your cockhead. “Aw, are you worked up already?” 

“More or less,” you answer, and it’s a sudden moment of grace, a blessing in disguise, mind telling the rest of your body to calm down as she slowly jerks you off. “You know me, I wouldn’t back down on your escapades,” and you moan again when she speeds up the pace, “Seriously, it’ll be on you if I cum like this.” 

She kisses your cock and licks. This girl can’t be helped. “What a shame. Hope it doesn’t come to that.” 

“We can do this all night if we have to, so why not?” 

Yunjin lets out a dry laugh. “We will, don’t worry,” she says, carefully pumping you and swipes her thumb over the slit, seeing the thread of precum bridged across, twisting at the middle. “It’s just been a while since we’ve had a conversation while I gave you head.” 

“What’s on your mind this time?” you inquire, playing into the deliberation, “Probably something intriguing, I assume.” 

Yunjin blinks, locks her finger and thumb around the base of your shaft. “You think Kazuha’s fucked a cock like this?” 

You stare, pondering, it takes a second longer for the question to set in because it’s entirely out of left field. “You’re asking me out of all people? How the fuck would I know? She doesn’t bring those kinds of details up with me whenever we talk about it.” 

“But I can’t help but wonder,” Yunjin tuts, hand carelessly sliding around you, nicking her head back. “Have you ever fantasized about your best friend?” 

“Yunjin, that’s just weird. Fuck no-” 

“Aw, you can be honest with me. You and I don’t keep secrets with her as it is, no need to hide.” 

She then tips her head, flickers her eyes up at the heavy sigh your mouth makes when her lips make contact with your cock. Her smile goes even wider, noticing the twitch at your eyebrow, how you’re clenching your teeth and bring your chest up to your shoulders - where she’s managed to work you up with the finesse and enchantment that’s simply exuded from her. 

There’s nothing much for you to do except sitting back and let Yunjin take your whole length into her mouth. No notes or objections for her to hear, but the sticky wet sounds slathering your shaft and your body moments away from finally giving the reward she rightfully deserves. 

“Pretty fucked up sense,” you’re mumbling your head off, moving wisps of her hair out of her face, thinking less and less as she stuffs her throat of you, keeling and leaning forward to where you’re lifting your ass off the couch. “Shit-” 

This is her version of a truth serum, a polygraph; her mouth and hands working beautifully in tandem, her collarbone vanishing into her neck, guiding you to the well-wrapped grip she has with her fingers, fucking you with panache in the hot curves of her throat. 

She loves it when you’re like this: bending to her will and getting you off with the tightest fist. Wringing you clean now that you’ve done the hard work. 

Her hand cups your balls, nails scratching the ridges. The pace she keeps is relentless, alternating from base to tip so excruciatingly well, twisting and jerking and fucking- 

“Mmph?” 

“You’d be surprised if I said yes.” 

Yunjin slides her mouth off once more, spits the underside, lapping up the slick. “No fucking way. You’ve thought about it before?” 

“Predates you, if you want me to be more specific.” 

She flashes the same wicked grin you’ve seen before, tongue tracing a path at the root. Pursing her lips when she inhales, taking in the scent. Legitimately, fuck her. Lashes fluttering heavy with the eyelids, pupils dilating and too faded for you to notice. “If it makes you feel better, I came to that conclusion a while back, just didn’t say anything.” 

“Were you sparing me?” 

Yunjin ticks her lips, still smiling, taking pride at the concurrence. “It is also hot for you to finally confess about her.” Her hand plants firmly at your thigh and you consciously thrust your hips back in, gasping in beautiful bliss. She swallows you back up again, clenching her throat and sealing where you’re blinking a lot more faster this time. That rose colored mouth humming along the skin with every puff of her cheeks, flushing it perfectly like it’s practiced. Her back arches and bends, unfazed with the constant shake of your right leg, all the motions culminating in your muscles and hers, rising and rising- 

“Yeah, okay, alright, I’m- holy shit-” 

“Mmmphphm-” 

Your composure snaps, hand now to her head, a death grip in her hair, fucking her face ruthlessly, drunk at the feeling of her mouth and the obscene gawking noises and the bob of her throat curling your cock, lips smaking and drooling more that you regret not putting a towel on the hardwood floor beneath you two. 

It’s incredibly difficult to internalize, let alone imagine the wish you could capture this feeling for eternity, bring it out from a bottle at the shortest convenience. Yunjin doesn’t falter with the moaning, friction slippery and neurons overloaded, delusion finally high and head still to you - plugging her hot mouth full of your cock, sliding in the smooth muscle, throbbing. 

She takes another deep breath, earning a palm to her face, gaze wistful and deep into your soul. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” 

Damn right you are. 

Yunjin doesn’t need to clarify what she said, since she already knew. Instead, the flicks of her wrist are astonishingly meticulous, amazed that you’re rock solid not just because of her, but rather the thought of Kazuha doing the same thing to you, given with the experience. 

“I think you’re ready,” she declares, and the sentence alone is loaded with different interpretations. 

She doesn’t savor the moment of grace soon after, siphons the breath out of you when she puts her lips back on your cock. Your mind’s no longer there, thinking: Yunjin, Kazuha - the pair doing numerous things to you all at once. Trading your cock between their hot mouths, hands stacked along your shaft, pressing into their slick cunts and watch them keen of being split apart. Yunjin’s sloppy mouth fucking you brings it back to reality, slit leaking and ready to burst. She licks once, twice, thrice, lips wrapped around your cockhead and hand twisting the shaft, aiming in one direction where the load should go. 

Your thighs tense, breathing ragged, shoulders back and chest out when her eyes go wide - shocked at the first thread of cum caught in the roof of her mouth. A pillow falls off from the couch as you’re fighting the urge to push her face away from your hips and that’s when it get worse. 

It hadn’t been that long since you last came, but the surprise was a welcome one when more shots of white start spilling over your stomach, her hands, her face, on her button nose, your shaft twitching in her hands when she hovers her mouth over your tip and seals it to safeguard remnants of the damage. 

“Yunjin, fuck- oh, fuck-” 

“Mmm,” she hums gleefully, licking the mess off of you and squinting at the leaking slit, pulsing out more. Your cock softening again and body in a complete mess, fingertips carefully moving on your belly and brain falling in and out of consciousness. “Oh my god. You came so fucking much.” 

She nuzzles her face into your side, observing your chest calming down: “didn’t think I had more in me.” And that’s pretty ironic coming from you. “Congrats, babe. Consider me dead.” 

“There’s more where that came from,” replies Yunjin, orange hair swirling over your shoulder. “We’re even now.” 

Doesn’t get any better than that, really. The score stands at one-to-one. 

–

“By the way,” Yunjin starts off again, spent and roughed up on the mattress after going back to back rounds a little less than thirty minutes later. First in the shower and the second on the bed; a restoration to the pecking order, actually on the same page. “She drunkenly confessed to me about it while you were gone one night. Poor girl can’t keep a secret. I felt bad.” 

“Her loss, honestly. Sucks to be her for having the issue.” 

“You don’t think it’s a problem.” 

“Well that depends on your solution.” 

“Well,” says Yunjin, expectant. “I was gonna propose-” 

(You can kind of see where this is going.) 

“-maybe the both of us could- y’know, deal with her as we see fit.” 

“Meaning?” 

“Emulate a porn plot towards her, the typical one where the girlfriend shares with her best friend.” 

You plop on the mattress, tilting your head. 

“Like a collaborative effort?” You’re then asking; the thought not too far-fetched, but still brazenly out of her mind. Even for Yunjin’s standards. “What’s worse is the idea of you sharing me? With Zuha? I swear you were possessive about me, where did that go?” 

Yunjin bends her leg up against yours, brushing a thigh before her knee nestles at your waist. Nothing but smooth, soft skin just there for you to touch, to feel, and just- right on your lap. 

“Consider us sharing. Communal, I guess.” Her brain’s working next to you, then it hits. “A communal cock for the both of us.” She snorts, bursts out laughing once she’s created the twisted hypothesis. “Our cock. Kazuha and I. Please, tell me you’re loving the idea.” 

“I don’t hate it,” you’re stating, hand slipping lower to the swell of her ass. There you go again: thinking about Kazuha and Yunjin together. It’s supposed to be a silly theory. 

“So, will you help me? Unless there’s something I don’t know about.” 

“I’m not really in a position to say no, but I’ll let you do your thing.” 

“Take that as a yes, then,” Yunjin rests a cheek along your chest, prompting you to move your other arm around and fully embrace her, paying no attention to her kneecap pressing up against your balls, “you wouldn’t want to hear my plan to get our girl set up for what’s coming?” 

“You can brief me sometime later.” Another thing added to the agenda, with the rest of the responsibilities filling up your notifications and inbox. “Unless you want to surprise me.” 

Yunjin squints her eyes, purses her lips at you the next second; fingers dancing along your jaw, your throat. “If that’s what you want,” she concurs, retrieving your hand to her hip. “One more for the night?” 

“Don’t blame me if you can’t walk the next morning.” 

And so she gets herself off like that. Your cock in Yunjin’s hand and pressed up against the skin, feel the rush of her pussy lips coating you in slick. Her fingers too dainty and delicate, precise at the touch. You’re alternating from slipping inside her hot cunt - eventually stuck between her impossibly tight thighs crushing the shaft. 

Your throat and hers rumble low, locking legs and letting the hinged hips do their own thing, listening to each other’s nuances of groans and curses and names traded until the overdue exhaustion following the pleasure washes over you two. Yunjin’s face is dazed, relaxed and satisfied with the spill between her legs, her whole body wrapping around you; conserving the heat in any way she can - even if it means to sink your cock back into your cunt. 

You’re hoping the next wet dream you have turns into reality. 

–

A quick look into the inner lens of manifests and proclamations: most of the intents are put in a good light. Speak it into existence and great things will soon come its way - that type of thing. 

When you want something - you’re holding your breath for what’s to happen. 

As for Yunjin, it’s quite the opposite: 

“Imagine all the ideas you could have if you just- let it happen?” She’s on your back and flipping pancakes, breath tickling your ear and putting her down becomes a favorable option than the latter. “Look at it this way, Party A can only take action if the conditions are met in agreement with Party B.” 

“Please allow me to ask, but who the fuck is Party B?” You swivel in place and swing Yunjin’s long legs around the kitchen, the wrap of her arms hooking deeper at your neck. 

“I’m not answering that,” Yunjin says, foot to your thigh and altering your attention to a low-ponytailed Kazuha sitting across, ready and raring to go for her run. 

Kazuha looks dumbfounded, lost, predictable. “What are you guys talking about a Party B?” 

“Huh?” you and Yunjin say in unison. 

“Huh?” Kazuha repeats the utterance. 

Then all three of you say: “What?” Queue the laugh track - somebody, please. 

“Enough of this,” you declare, setting Yunjin down so she can finish cooking the meal. You glance at the glowing screen of your phone, see a few new messages pop up, and a notification from one of the places you applied to. “Crap,” you then say, realizing what’s on the attachment, “It got moved up?! Gotta run.” 

“You too, hm?” Kazuha chides, with an eye smile and a slice of banana in her mouth. “Cute.” 

“Make sure you bring your lunch with you, honey!” Yunjin yells while you blitz back into the bedroom to get changed. “Can’t own the interviews on an empty stomach!” 

��

Various managers you keep in touch with praise your skills and determination, saying that you would be a good fit for the team. It’s a waiting game now; only a matter of time before someone steps forward, claims you as theirs. 

Some places you’re fielding calls from, shortening the list. You’re forwarding it back to home base: hit or miss for today’s adventures, thinking about taking either minnie’s offer or sian’s.

Yunjen 💟: i loooove sian! miss that girl so much (;-;)

Yunjen 💟: pls say yes to her next time, for me? 🥺

🍑: u forgot ur water bottle at home, idiot 🥸

You: great, now i gotta wash it because you touched it

🍑: you’re really bout it today, huh?

🍑: i’m gonna kick your ass when you get back 

You: please, whatever you throw, i’ll catch

Yunjen 💟: aw, i won’t be there to see you school her in mario kart again 😭😭😭

🍑: if i can beat your ass at racing, jennifer, i can def beat him 

🍑: u think too low of me. 

Yunjen 💟: you two play nice now, i’ll be back by dinnerrrr

Yunjen 💟: let me know how it goes 

–

Kazuha greets you at the door, sighing with disappointment, like she owns the place - that’s partly true: she pays for half the rent but always forgets until you remind her. 

“What’s with the look?” you ask flatly. 

“Nothing,” she shrugs, face tugged to a scowl. “Just thought that you’d be back in high spirits after landing the job.” 

“Results don’t come that fast,” you remark, following her in the apartment, feet scruffing and leggings skin tight around her figure. Hair clumped together after being tied for a long period. “They said that they’re gonna do one more week of evaluations and see from there.” 

“Meaning?” 

“I get the job, which means more money; if not, we keep looking.” 

Kazuha chuckles, settling herself on the couch with her legs curled, watches as you drop your things and join soon after. “Is this the part where I ask how your day was like old times?” 

“Zuha, I’m gonna walk right out that door if you do. Please don’t.” 

“Not even this once?” 

You stare at Kazuha’s delighted wink, rolling her eyes back and cringing. “Well shit, my day hasn’t been that interesting either, thanks for asking.” She says, palm sliding down her face with a sheepish smile. “Can’t even have drinks until Yunjin gets back.” 

“What’d you suggest we do for the meantime?” 

Kazuha grabs the controller, treating it like a deck of cards for a party trick. She lifts her eyebrows, tempting. 

“You weren’t kidding.” you say, amazed. 

“Unless you have a better idea,” she drawls, shaking it to double down the offer. “What, too much of a pussy to play me?” 

“You’re on. Give me the other controller.” 

–

Full disclosure aside. 

Moments like these with Kazuha have always been the usual bread and butter for you two to bond over on. With the amount of years carried in between - part of you has imagined what it would be like if the relationship label found its way to you two instead of the opposite. 

(You remember it vividly, the brief period was short lived for a few months after keeping the emotions at bay for a long ass time. Going into high school was the usual phase where the feelings aren’t exactly certain, and eventually change. She could’ve left you out of her life then, but didn’t. Attached wasn’t the right word you or her would say, though, you’re glad she stayed either way.) 

Even after she started to come out of her shell, be talkative, get more active, fit in clothes that make you and every other horny guy on campus drop their jaws at, she’s still the same girl you met back in kindergarten: a true friend at your side going places, while also doing stupid stuff for the fun. 

“This goddamn blue shell, I swear to god-” 

As for you, well- you’ve got tunnel vision, deathly locked to the screen, blocking all outside noise and focusing on the mario character and the amount of asphalt you got on the tires. Kazuha was all up in your ear, talking about how she managed to build a gap after a poor start on your end with the amount of bananas being tossed up track and dropped along the kerbs. She also thought racing at 200cc was a great idea - when in reality she’s only raced nothing above 50cc. 

She’s using every trick in the arsenal: the hand to your face, kicking your side; hell, even covering your end of the screen if it meant being in last place. Her definition of victory was seeing you not succeed. 

All in all, it was a good way to have fun. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” she asks, when she’s fully calmed down and actually playing properly. “That night where you had to pick me up from the kickback,” her body leaning with the steering motion of the kart when the controls were strictly to the joystick. “No one told me I didn’t get hooked up with anybody.” 

“Because you didn’t.” you say tiredly. Explaining the gauntlet she gave you to bring her back home safely. 

You’re finishing first ahead of Kazuha - the girl can’t drive in real life as it is. 

Her legs cross over yours, paying no attention to the spread of her toes and flex of her calves. Heel grazing your crotch before resting along your thigh, fighting the urge to break composure and adjust yourself. “Hmph, that’s a shame. Since you did see me drunk after all-” 

“Happens multiple times than I would like to count,” you’re saying mildly, glancing, “I was also hoping that Sakura would take you home instead of Eunchae calling me.”  

“Is that what happened?” Kazuha asks, and it abrupts your thoughts quickly. “Sorry- I know I asked the morning after but - still don’t remember much.” 

You look away, down to your hips. Your mind and body clearly not in sync. 

Which begs the question: “So, what do you actually remember? From that night?” 

The answer she gives goes in one ear and out the other. Vividly telling you the details. 

“You’re not very slick about me; you know that, right?” Kazuha concedes. And you agree, completely cornered.

“What do you want me to do about it?” 

“Gonna keep talking?” 

“Please, I can do more than just talk.” 

Kazuha bites her lip, pulls her legs back, shakes her head, the intent easy for you to read. There’s a few shared secrets with her you’d like to keep. 

What’s one more thing to hide from Kazuha and Yunjin? 

–

Think of it this way, racing’s got a lot to offer: the thrill, the rush, the risk. Kazuha loves to put you in the dust; always making you chase until you’ve got one over her. She’s screwed you over in other lifetimes - including this one - but, it’s worth noting the exception: a rare occasion where you’re back at the starting line and finishing all the same. 

Kazuha doesn’t look over her shoulder often; disregards the terror she leaves behind without a care, and you ought to remind her where it lands as soon as you can. 

“Jesus christ-” is what leaks out of her lips, biting down another moan in her throat. You cup her chin and force the look up, hands slipping on the glass. “Your fucking cock is just-” 

Amazing? Well, she took the words from Yunjin, and you know.

It’s extravagantly fucked up: turning back time as if it was yesterday - you’re railing her in the shower, warm water falling from above, steam fogging up beneath. 

She sure knows how to make you shut up, just like old times, and a small part of you wishes how things might’ve been different if you or her if you said something back then, but you’ll let your bodies do the talking - her cunt clenching around your shaft, skin rippling the water off with every wet slap in, hand reaching for your thigh for stability. You’re just holding on and having her do most of the work in throwing her ass back, begging you for more, press her against the wall, take your cock like she always does - she may treat you like shit in the most affectionate way possible, but that layer is stripped entirely if her heart and mind allowed it. You’re going to fuck her pretty cunt, make her remember that night where she got herself off with you watching and act like nothing happened despite the raw marks of red on her creamy skin. 

That too, and she’ll be a pain in your ass still: “What’s wrong? Worried Yunjin will walk in on us?” 

“Kind of counting on it,” you relent, and she hunches. You pull her back up and feel her breath hit your chin. “Who knows? Maybe she’d want to join us.” 

“You think so?” Her arms flush with the tile. 

“If you’ve forgotten,” you manage, bracketing her waist - grip hard enough to make her yelp, and you’re loving every second. She’s a brat and a bitch and a slut rolled up into one; someone who has no care for others, except - oh, right; you’ve put up with it long enough. It’s the perfect opposite. “You’re the one who made the first move.” 

“That’s bullshit and we both know it,” she denies, dishonored and deflective, so you drag your hips and push back in, grab her face, watch her jaw go slack. “Oh god. Baby, yes-” 

The water’s streaming down her chest, her abs, spraying off to the walls and glass - you snake your hand to her neck, a muscle memory: everything else is an easy line to follow. 

One of her legs are lifted for you to hook, so that you can reach the familiar angle you’ve lost the feeling for too long, where you’ve made her scream, swear out more obscene stuff. She’s bracing herself along the wall properly when you’ve slid your cock back inside her; she’s groaning a lot louder now, tensing, moaning - you’re supporting her and she’s taking it like you promised, her head bobbing all over the place, mouth canted, skin flushed hot-pink. A smile breaks at the corner of her lips. It’s the easy position, the natural flow of motion, keeping pace, a simple solution to a problem - all of the qualifications applied in different situations. Except, your hands find themselves on the rise of her hips, ass hypnotizing you all over your eyes; she’s leaking on your cock, cunt split open and ready to ruin - and you think you’ve finally won the argument, somewhere hidden past the heavy breathing. 

“Fuck- fuck me. Oh- shit- ah-” spills out, and it’s another win to take in, soaking the moment of bliss - that’s so fucking good, i’ve missed this so much, keep going, yes- right there, harder - she’s lost her mind entirely. 

You shouldn’t be grinning wickedly, but you are - it’s relieving in bend a girl like her to your will who can’t hold herself to the end. 

“The worst kind,” she’s huffing, gasping, mewling, trying so hard to keep her posture up while you work her towards the orgasm she’s been asking for since her feet skimmed over the bulge in your pants, playing it off like nothing terribly as it’s a routine for her. You’re aware that she’s probably touched herself while you and Yunjin fucked throughout the night. The walls around here are thin as it is, and so much for that. 

You don’t let up, fucking her hard and fast, like she wanted - praising you for finally breaking that unspoken rule left behind years ago and promise to keep it on the low. You and her both knew it would happen again eventually. How could you not? Just one little change of impulse and you’re on the one way track to hell. 

(Don’t act like this wasn’t your doing, either.) 

“I don’t hate,” she says, urging, whining and whimpering and you’re dying to hear more of it for her - “please, just- it’s incredible, I fucking love it, this fucking cock- all for me-” 

You grab a handful of her slick hair and yank, watch the arch in her spine rise, the fluttering eyelids and shape of her mouth. Kazuha drops her jaw even lower and winces when you pound her pussy deeper; the imaginary line in your head fades with the steam. She’s clenching tightly around your shaft, and you know that this won’t be a singular occurrence. She’s gonna be coming back for more, becoming addicted, clingy. “You like? S’that feel good?” you’re asking anyway, waiting to hear the same answer. 

You want this to last. Her cunt quivers around your length, clamping. You’ve fucked her through the first orgasm, onto the second or third, neither of you are keeping track - you’re chasing for your own - but there’s a sense of grandeur to this, in addition of the gratification to the reward from watching how astonishlingy you can dick her down and put her back in her place. 

Kazuha’s putting effort where it counts. Says: “Need- I need it- fucking christ, please, do it already-” And - fuck, not in a polite way, but good note for trying. 

Kazuha sobs along with a low huff that’s one of the hottest things you’ve heard from her in a while - a long time - contracting and expanding and clenching around you. Great job, baby. You did a good job keeping up with me. I don’t mind you cumming first. I’d prefer to finish second. Holy shit, you don’t realize how long it’s been since you stepped in the shower, mind focusing on Kazuha and legitimately nothing else. 

“Shh, shh,” you’re saying, a finger to her lips, feel her tongue run against the side of it - and the nod is small, but you’re thinking ahead to what she’ll do next. 

You pull yourself out and slap the tip on her pussy lips, listen closely to the squelch when you slip in again, deeper. You can’t tell if the water on her face is from the shower head or her tears, trickling down as her mouth meets yours. God, her kisses are just like the first ones. 

“Gonna cum again?” you ask, delicately. “You are. Let it out.” 

And Kazuha can breathlessly say yes without the words - she’s cumming, cumming, and wants to show you how badly. You could spend a few more minutes here, conserve the water. Paying the bill and next rounds of games can wait. 

–

There’s no complexity behind it. The sun comes up and the world still spins. 

Some days, Kazuha flutters to you - bare cunt underneath her shirt and you’re catching a second glance. Slaps your ass like every other time and expects you to bring it up later. Which you do. 

Or- 

You’re taking her by surprise, as some lousy excuse to pin her down on the nearest hard surface within reach, perch her hips up to yours until you have to carry her to the shower or bed - only for the mess to come back around again. She tugs the ends of the panties, faintly smacking on her skin, wiggles her perky ass and touches her hair - bundles it up in her hands, her slender back towards you and another spot to deal with some other time. 

“You sure you don't want Yunjin to know?” She asks, snapping you out of your daydream. 

With a quirk of your lips, “Maybe she already knows. But if I speak, I’d be in big trouble.” 

Kazuha tsks. “So wrong for you to leave her out of the fun.” To be fair, she’s more right than wrong. If you were honorable enough to tell the truth, you could’ve told Yunjin to commensurate something with the shared dynamics - albeit way more confusing than it is, because it’s all just for fun, a wacky journey with no destination. 

A rerun of you, fucking Kazuha into puddled pile of pure putty, watch her eyes shimmer when you cum in her mouth, in her hair, paint her pussy with your mess and see her relieved - a deal slipped under the table, unspoken. Yunjin might’ve swapped roles with her in being gullible or oblivious to the signs now - or even back then, you’re not quite convinced. Bottomline: you’ve missed this version of Kazuha. It’s a nice switch up and a way to disconnect and destress from the pressures of the outside world, sheltering and confining yourself since that’s always the best option to have - besides, there’s some work to do still: you got the notice of the final evaluation, from both jobs at the top of your list, somewhat nerve wracking. You’ll have to make a decision, find what fits best for you, which one pays more. Maybe get a second opinion from Yunjin or Kazuha. 

You’ll figure it out as you go along. 

–

When you do ask Yunjin about your little dilemma, part of her attention is on you - at a distance. 

She’s too busy watching Phantom of the Opera after you ate her cunt out while her hourly reading earlier in the day, only because she kept teasing you underneath the desk while on call with the same friend who managed to land a position at their new job. Relax, they’re saying at the time, don’t worry too much and just be ready for what’s to come. 

“Huh? Sorry, ask me again,” Yunjin’s telling you, chin on her shoulder and glances over at you at the kitchen preparing dinner. “The actress’s high note caught me off guard.” 

Kazuha laughs, sitting on the counter and at your side, peeling off lettuce for her salad - proximity minimized to where your hand’s grazing her thigh. “Are you sure Sian’s job is the right one for you?” she asks, rephrasing the question as her own. “I mean, you say you liked the offer from her.” 

“Possibly,” you answer, slicing a carrot, placing the knife down. “She told me she’ll call sometime tomorrow to confirm.” 

“Makes sense,” Yunjin supplies. “Good pay. Office isn’t far, convenient. Also on the fact that she’s pretty to be a manager or in charge? Heavy on the pretty, though.” 

“Right,” you agree, looking at Kazuha, fingers slipping over the rise of her thigh and in. You quirk your eyebrow in suspicion, noticing the lack of underwear (once again) and her folds already soaking. “She really is pretty.” 

Kazuha bites her lip, dips her head down. 

“I think I've made up my mind,” you say, pushing- sliding deeper in, quirk your lip in a ‘shh’ so that Kazuha can keep her voice low. “Might’ve been a pure choice from the start.” 

“You think so?” Yunjin says, puzzled. “That was easy.” 

You and Kazuha both give a confused look at her. Knuckles curled in Kazuha’s walls, inconspicuous and hidden - a familiar reflex and motion of the hand. She’s so slick for you, it’s unfathomable. A whimper rumbles within her chest, and you cough loudly to cover the sound. 

Yunjin glances over for a third time. “Everything okay there?” 

Kazuha sniffles, seamlessly playing along without a proper cue. “The onions,” you’re saying, sheepishly grinning like a dumbass. “Zuha got the first wave of them.” To that, Yunjin laughs, wiggling her head the other direction. “Should’ve been helping me over here instead.” 

“I would,” replies Yunjin, waving her hand up in the air. “But my legs have lost their feeling. Wonder whose fault is that.” 

You shrug your shoulders and carry on your work at the counter. 

–

You’re fielding calls from the shortlist, waiting for one contact. 

Then the phone rings. 

Greetings are exchanged and it’s right down to business: “Drop by the office later. It’ll be brief, I promise. Just checking in one last time on how you feel about the offer.” Sian’s telling you. “Apologies for making you wait.” 

“Nonsense,” you’re beaming, swiping through your belongings and whatever you can fill in your hand. “Wasn’t doing much besides keeping myself busy.” 

Soon you’re on the way out of the door, noticing a box next to your shoes. You don’t remember ordering anything in the past few days, so that theory is eliminated automatically. Yunjin’s made her way to see you off, arms crossed and partially excited. 

You pull your phone away, pointing to the package. You’re mouthing the curiosity, and Yunjin nods. There’s not much to assume: it’s probably a new batch of books for her to read, or some clothes. You don’t suspect much.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be on my way now. See you soon.” 

–

(The interview goes exactly as Sian said it would. 

She’s telling you about the perks about the office and benefits within the first few months. They’re all really good, you can’t deny that. Not to mention the signing bonus. You can’t stop smiling at the new opportunity, ecstatic for what’s in store. 

You’re driving home later and feel like the sun’s burning a little bit brighter than usual - clouds filling up the endless blue sky. 

An attempt is made to call Yunjin, but no answer. You try Kazuha too, no luck. 

There’s the simple assumption that they’re both busy and they’ll see the missed calls before you get back.

A cleared schedule opens up a lot of things.) 

–

Everything seems a lot easier when there isn’t a weight on your shoulders, relieved of stress and the only current worry is hobbling back to your bed and sleeping there for the rest of the day. You click the deadbolt out of place and swing the door open, letting yourself in. “I’m home,” you’re calling out, slipping out of your shoes and the bag gets placed next to the small table where the keys go. “Genuinely thought it was going to take longer-” 

You freeze your movements when you hear the spill of moans close by. 

Because you peek the corner like a kid waiting for Santa Claus - but instead of seeing a red man placing gifts and stealing milk and cookies, you see Kazuha leaning back on the kitchen counter, sitting on the chair with someone else on top of her, leaving fresh marks it could be mistaken of her being bitten from a vampire - the person on top presses her hips up, diving down to her neck, pushing and yanking before you realize she’s getting fucked by- 

“Yunjin, what the fuck!?” you exclaim. 

Yunjin rests her head on Kazuha’s chest, fingers clasping to her shoulder - you’ve seen that wicked look on her face before, devilish and corrupt. Now, in your place: it’s Kazuha pulling her close, tilting her head back when Yunjin shifts her hips up between Kazuha’s legs, dragging out another moan. 

“Welp, I guess we got caught,” says Yunjin, and her strap-on slips out of Kazuha in one simple pull. 

Clearly, you’re confused, bamboozled. Yunjin’s coming back to her senses as she swipes a hair behind her ear, playing the innocent role poorly and none of it makes sense, at all. Your girlfriend and roommate - roommate and girlfriend, and you start to remember- 

“Thought I said that I wasn’t finished,” Kazuha sputters, oblivious of your presence. She’s sitting back up on the chair and clinging to the edge of the counter. “You told me that I’ll have my turn with the strap when you’re done - we barely started.” She’s hitting Yunjin’s arm, hair falling over and panting erratically. “Yunjin, please-” 

“Zuha,” Yunjin taps Kazuha’s shoulder, flicks a finger towards you - authoritative and calm. “I think we have other things to worry about. Also hey hi, I didn’t hear the door open or you walk in.” 

“Well I did,” you say, walking further inside and assessing the scene. Kazuha then sees you in her view and her jaw drops, both shocked and disappointed. “Didn’t want to interrupt your fun little session going on here.” 

“She knows about-” Kazuha tries to speak, covered by Yunjin’s hand, and stops her sentence. 

“You? Us?” you ask. 

“Should’ve told me sooner,” Yunjin butts in, unimpressed with a smirk. “I didn’t expect you’d have a headstart with my suggestion.” 

“Guilty as charged.” 

“Mmfph,” Kazuha tries to say, but the press of Yunjin’s hand is a lot more firm. She’s lost her talking privileges for now. This wasn’t even the worst bit of this incident, you think. 

You’re sighing, undecided, at a crossroads: two girls on your shoulders with very similar,  contrasting perspectives and ideals. Yunjin’s the purest of angels in human form, Kazuha the devil’s advocate living in your house. The thought of you being walked in by Kazuha with Yunjin on your cock was a thing of the past. With Yunjin’s strap filling up Kazuha- 

“How do you suppose we deal with her?” You’re asking, playing into the role of second fiddle to Yunjin’s wishes, wherever she wants to take them, burying your nose into her hair and looking down at Kazuha’s eyes light up in excitement. 

“I think you can help me with that,” declares Yunjin, and for the thousandth time it’s something you’re following through. “Give this girl a proper work up for once.” 

“With pleasure.” 

“But first-” 

“First?” 

Kazuha’s body tenses. “Mmrph??” 

Yunjin’s head dips, licking her lips. Her fingers tap the fabric of your crotch. “Not yet,” she sighs, and she’s teasing the pink head of plastic on Kazuha’s folds. “Actually,” Yunjin’s hearty laugh gives you an idea where this is going, and it’s not looking pretty. “We’re gonna have you watch.” 

–

Where do you even begin with these two? That’s the golden question. 

Think of it this way, a coming of age story would have all the highs and the lows, a sunset drive into the horizon with the top down and music blasting for everyone else to hear, romanticizing both the achievements and shortcomings of each character, tossing snacks to each other and clinking glasses while letting the end credits roll. 

Kazuha and Yunjin, however, lock lips at the couch; you’re breathing deep - you’re slipping down the chair, not quite shameful that you’re not in the act. 

Maybe it’s the fantasy written up in your head - in its purest form and in real time. The ambiance settling down to a space meant to be locked away; shelved behind a drawer and door, never to be seen in the light of day, exclusively for your eyes only. 

Yunjin tilts her head one side with Kazuha on the other, playing along well. Everything about it is down to the last vivid detail: her fingers carding into her hair, gripping, pulling her head up so Kazuha can get more air - slip an arm underneath the arching back and bring her leg up against her heat. You give Yunjin a look when she locks eyes with you, paying no attention to Kazuha peppering her cheek with more kisses and clearly asking for more, giggling as she indulges her request. Their hands trailing all over their unclad bodies, miles of skin between them. They both sigh in relief, finally showing what they cherished the most with each other. There’s no regrets of your actions: you’ve got a piece of Yunjin - what she’s like, same for Kazuha from another period lost to time, but it’s all culminated to this. Soon you’re towering the pair and see the crimson and sweat spread across, willing to have your fill be satisfied by both.

If your sympathy was a knife, you’d turn the blade around and twist it inside yourself. 

Kazuha’s hand grips the belt loop, grinning. Yunjin tugs your hand to her face, kissing it. Wraps her plump pretty lips on your thumb. An unspoken testament of what’s to come. The credence of raw, unfiltered, sin. 

“Is this what you wanted?” Yunjin asks, very silently. Kazuha opens her neck up as an invitation. 

“Oh,” you breathe, softly. Kneeling down at the couch and exchanging glances. “You have no idea.” 

(Show me everything. Show us everything, they said, partially devious. How bad your impurities are. We want it all. We deserve it all.) 

–

Maybe all of this was the long-awaited culmination; Kazuha’s mind is so far gone, back pinned against the wall like she knows you and Yunjin are about to ruin every part of her body. Clothes are being slipped off your frame, pooling onto the floor and soon to be ignored till the next morning. Yunjin’s hands graze your middle, feeling the hardened muscle - sighing into your neck and flashes a look across. 

“Should I know how long you two kept this from me?” she asks, half-curious. Well aware of the answer. 

You keep your gaze on Kazuha while pulling your head back - observing, but flicking your eyes back and forth. “Would it be best to hear it from the person responsible?” you say, seeing Kazuha’s face shift from her to yours and unsure who to choose. 

“Figured there were signs,” Kazuha answers, lifting her leg up at the crease of her knee, giving an implication. It’s not a pressure point - not yet, at least - an angle where you can jump in and double down on. “If they weren’t obvious enough.” 

“Are we seriously playing dumb here?” Yunjin then follows up, twisting her head. “Right now? Of all times?” 

“Choose your words wisely,” you’re saying, towering over the girl in your arms - a subtle warning. 

“You’ll be a good girl, yes?” Yunjin adds. “Then we’ll see if you deserve it.” 

Kazuha snickers, sound bouncing off the hallway, and you and Yunjin both sigh in dejection - though, Yunjin slaps Kazuha’s thigh, prompting you to pin her lower half to the drywall. “I see we’re at a bad start already,” she’s saying, and her arm slithers up to your chest, “you keep acting like this, Zuha, we’re gonna have some issues. Not to mention,” she’s rambling, taking a step back to open the space in flipping Kazuha around with her back in view, arms up instinctually and hips moving back, Yunjin’s arms crossed over her chest with the strap-on in her hand, instigating. “I think it’s best if he takes the first crack in breaking you.” 

“How generous,” you tell her, leaning down to kiss the fine line of Kazuha’s spine. “I thought you’d be more cruel.” 

Yunjin grins, finger to her teeth. “That’s more of your thing rather than mine.” 

“Liar,” you growl, and it’s a small reveal of your true intent, bringing them close and never letting go - your arm pulls Yunjin back in, gasping at the sudden move. Yunjin giggles, teetering into a small moan; you look down and she takes the hint in feeling Kazuha’s ass, listening to the hitched breaths, see the slightest scrunch of her shoulder. “Don’t think that you can hide away from me, either,” And you slap your hand firmly on the fresh skin, Kazuha slipping out a yelp in response - “I know you want your fun as well, baby.” Your thumb and index pinch both of her cheeks, squishing. “Unless you’d prefer to watch.” 

“You know me. I’ll have my go if you’re willing.” 

“I’m still down here,” interrupts Kazuha. “Why don’t you-” 

Here was the perfect time to show Kazuha again what you’re made of - you grip both of your hands to the swell of her hips, pushing them up until all of her chest is flush with the wall in front - her hand flies back to yours; clawing the skin on your arm, your hips- 

“Watch it,” you snarl, grabbing her wrist and putting it along the small of her back, hoping to break the tension. Technically, she’s doing the opposite. 

She squirms in your hands for a few more seconds, resisting. The grunts coming out of her mouth don’t apply to you; Kazuha’s feet skating across the floor, widening the stance, spilling out pleas- 

“Fucking swear to God,” she harshly swears, and you’re with her; Yunjin’s taking another step back, leaning. She can’t help but smile at the authority, the general hierarchy you’re used to giving her. Throwing out orders and demands - Kazuha with her insightful snarks, nowhere to be heard or seen as she’s finally getting a taste of her own medicine- 

Both of Kazuha’s arms are behind her back. She’s helpless once you’ve finally got a hold on her. 

“How long is it gonna take you to fuck me or force me to watch you fuck Yunjin instead?” she whines, persistent. Her hands cup the sides of your hips, pushing her ass back - you don’t fight it, laser focused on her face. “Didn’t realize that we’re dishing out my punishment like this right off the bat.” 

“We’re getting there,” you agree, and you’re palming her breast beneath the shirt, clumping up the fabric - thumbing a nipple and pinching. “Yunjin will have her fun too when I’m done with you.” 

You look right at Yunjin and she nods. 

She’s keeping herself occupied with the strap-on in her hand, putting her pouty lips on the silicone tip, licking shamelessly and her other hand to her legs - cheeks flushed in a hot pink and eyes trained on you. You’d expect her to watch - let her have her own fun in the meantime. She’s so good; fucking you and Kazuha both, though it’s somewhat on par or incomparable to the roughing up you’re gonna do to Kazuha as a means of staying true to your word. Her tongue laves the side of plastic, lowers it down to her hips, hoping to tease and have that ache sated until her turn comes along to be taken, fucked mercissely, ruthlessly.

You lift a brow for the final confirmation, and Yunjin matches it. 

“You can watch of course, baby,” you say, and Yunjin’s face lights up. “Go ahead, do what you need to do.” 

Yunjin twists her back to the wall, head tilted while her legs spread wider to welcome the space of the strap-on between her legs - you’ve curled your arm around Kauzha’s hip, rub her clit from that angle, stroking slowly at her leaking slit; so yeah, this girl leaks sex. As for you: you’re eating it up. Knowing that there’s another pair of eyes on you, greedily staring once you get on one knee, place a trail of kisses to the backside of Kazuha’s thigh, bundle up the oversized shirt in your hands. You hook your palms to the fold of her legs, brush your nose in her cunt, taste the droplets on your tongue- 

“Are we observing?” You ask Yunjin. “Not the first time I’ve seen you use a dildo in front of me.” Your mouth sucks in the dripping slick of Kazuha’s pussy, earns you a sharp inhale through her teeth. Biting down on one of her folds and pulling. “I wanna see you ruined before I have the chance myself.” 

Your gaze shifts back to Kazuha because you know Yunjin will follow whatever you say. Even when your cock is brushing up against Kazuha’s slit, pushing in her pussy and the girl sings a broken note. 

Kazuha, by instinct, tilts her head down, overwhelmed, choking on the bob in her throat; all it takes is one firm snap of your hips in and it’s not enough time to get accustomed to the stretch - that deep, open stretch, her cunt pressuring you so tight, addicting - you’re amazed at how she can pick up things quickly, breathing steadily with every stroke, see her eyes at the corners, upping the intensity, twisting her head back forcefully and curve the arch a bit more deeper- 

A makeshift ponytail is created without a second thought, locking the stare in and keeping it frozen, failing to maintain composure when she’s moments away from finally breaking in front of you, or Yunjin. Kazuha’s pride is always one thing she holds close. Snuff it out of her and there’s nothing, and she can’t deny it: the way that she’s trying so hard to not be a completely needy, slutty bitch. 

“What’s wrong, huh?” you’re taunting - imitating her snark - man, it’s so nice not to be on the receiving end in one of those. “Wasn’t this the punishment you asked for? Well guess what?” You’re grasping at her cheek that it brushes yours. “It’s here, Zuha. Just me, you, Yunjin, and your dirty little cunt, all for us to have.” 

“All talk, still,” Kazuha remarks, syllables barely stable. She’s so shrunk down over your presence that when your cock is in play, it splits her body in two, crumbling her: she can spit out words for days, but knows that she’s vulnerable in a fight. “You’re not even putting effort into me. Fucking christ- asshole. Just-” 

You can’t help but chuckle - actually laugh, because the insults don’t hurt like they used to back then, that added layer in the dynamic where you’ll take the punch and send it right back. You’re slamming your hips in, press your fingers into her hip; Kazuha can keep giving you shit, but you see her head hit the drywall, eyes lidded and mouth quirked to keep it all in. There’s no point - she’s gushing on your cock, clamping. 

“Just what?” You yank her hips out and in, make her yelp at the change in pace. “Stop? Keep going? I can’t tell what you’re asking for and neither can Yunjin.” Yunjin herself lets out a breathy sigh - the strap-on’s worked well inside her cunt, matching the strokes as best she can; at this point, you’re just waiting for her to squirt on the floor. “Could’ve sworn you were greedy a few days ago when I fucked you in the back of the car, don’t lie to me.” 

“Maybe.” You slide in - genuinely fucking her. Kazuha tries to let it go casually the way you’re cock’s tearing inside her - you’ll give her the ‘A’ for attempting. That feeling can’t be ignored - she’s close, rising within - it’s in the lines of her face, her body, it’s showing. “Fuck - that’s not the point. I couldn’t be more desperate for your cock unlike Yunjin.” 

She’s not saying it for Yunjin’s sake, but also for her own: smiling through the pleasure despite her body nearly shutting down and breaking on your cock. All that ego, that bullshit given all these years, it’s all gone in an instant. It was a pipe dream to fuck the boldness out of her - you’ll come close, but not close enough. You’ll fuck her truly in the way that she wants - and the glint over her shoulder pierces through your eyes. Do your worst, you imagine her saying. I’d love to see you try. 

So, you’ll give exactly the worst thing to her. You’ll make her cum on your cock. 

You let go of her face, grab her tit before sliding down to her pussy. “Look at you,” you tell her, matching the smirk she gave you on the couch the other day, recalling, “nowhere to go.” 

Kazuha parts her mouth, ready to dart back with a witty response - or tries to - rocked with her high so intense that it’s bubbling in her throat, on her tongue. She’s there, thanks to you; Yunjin’s honoring your request, wincing, sliding that silicone cock inside- 

She’s up next, you’re not forgetting. You take Kazuha - all the way in, past her orgasm, let her shoulders go slack, breath in thin wisps, hand losing grip and slipping from your sweat, and you’re grinding your cock deep in her - all the way down to the base, where the blowback of your balls tapping her clit, prolongs the feeling - a new sensation; fuck, she feels so fucking good- 

“How do we deal this out, you suppose?” You ask Yunjin, breathless, head held high, breaking your gaze and towards your girlfriend. “Should I carry on what I’m doing?” Kazuha whimpers when you’re massaging her ass, slowly driving your cock back in, softening the blow. “Do whatever our little slut wishes?” 

You and Kazuha both glance at Yunjin together, slick dripping down her thighs, small threads plastered on your hips, and Yunjin slides the strap-on out of her like it’s a restraint. Kazuha slides off your cock, leans back to your embrace, legs quivering - you gave her a lot to handle, that’s for sure. But you’re not done yet. Not until Yunjin’s got her chance. 

Yunjin herself is treated to such a sight, cum soaked on the plastic in her hand, but when you sweep her close she’s already falling: like she knows you’ll catch her whenever and doesn’t have to worry about a damn thing. You’re eying her eyes, those plump pretty lips, her long legs rivaling Kazuha’s, her leaking cunt - she’s shifting in your arm, like one look sends sparkles in her eyes. She’s waiting, patiently - lets you do anything to her without saying a single word. 

“Enjoyed the show, love?” You’re scratching the sweet spot behind her head and her neck relaxes. It’s those earthy eyes you can’t get enough of, love drunk and over her head with her switch flipped - hot and crazy in love she’ll want everything. “How does it feel seeing lovely little Zuha finally get humbled?” 

“I’ll literally cut your dick off if you don’t shut your fucking mouth,” retorts Kazuha, twisting her neck so she could face you. No matter how much of a pain in the ass she is while getting fucked, she’ll own that role close to her heart. 

Yunjin flashes a smile, and you smile back. Coming to a consensus. “Not enough for her, sadly.” 

Kazuha takes advantage for once, hurling your body against the hallway now, and making you shuffle back past the open door to the room. Yunjin fails at the mediary with her chin on her shoulder, pushing her weight so that the ratio is two-to-one. Both of their eyes are insane, glittering crystals and with a primal ferocity behind them - holy fuck, is it sexy, moments away from victory. Backing you into a corner where there’s no opening for escape. 

“Make you eat your fucking words out,” Kazuha says, voice unfazed when she just came on your cock a few minutes ago, “Better hope you won’t get the chance again.” 

“Careful Zuha,” Yunjin butts in, hoping to alleviate the tenacious threat. “You wouldn’t want to get on his bad side again.” 

“What she said,” you remark - leaving it at that for now. 

“Okay then,” Kazuha tuts, grabbing your face for a kiss, clawing your hair, soothing it. “I’m tagging Jen Jen in.” 

With that, Yunjin pushes Kazuha off to the foot of the bed and topples over you, claiming her prize. 

There’s a passing of the torch in the form of the strap-on - Kazuha takes it and wiggles on the bed - while you’re wrestling for control with Yunjin, grasping her waist and flipping her over so that she’s under, fingers in familiar spots where you’ve left marks and bruises before - ready to it again. “Guess you’re up,” you mumble - feeling the knuckles of Yunjin’s hand on your face before she fiddles with the cuff of your ear, pinching. You’re surveying the planes of her body, targeting the areas where it’ll hurt. “You could never have enough of my cock as it is.” 

An instant curveball when you slap her inner thigh twice, flip her over and slap her ass, then roll back to her cunt. 

Yunjin shrieks - Kazuha inhales deep at the sound when she pushes the strap-on in her cunt. You smack again, put your mouth to hers and funnel the noise down your neck. This was new to the script, and you’re certain it’ll stay. 

There’s no other pretense to act on, and you bury your cock inside her cunt. 

She is fucking dripping; given the mewls and moans petering out of her mouth, your ears focus on the sweet sound of slick as her pussy takes all of you, stretching and sliding in the ways you made her break, the noises heavenly, a symphony alone as you get back into true pace - you’re fucking her cunt so hard that it’s almost snapping her spine in half, or make her lose the feeling in her legs. Ah, you’re just treating yourself - possibly. Kazuha’s fucking herself right next to you two and has a front row seat of the one in many acts about to unfold- 

Her pussy is incredible - that’s just the jist of it, the meaning already written to existence long before you came along, Yunjin’s just huffing along, the size too grand to bear- 

“Good?” You know for damn sure it’s good. Her neck is a nice place for your hand to rest, siphoning the remaining air trapped in her lungs. The last gasp for more, taken away. “Yeah, you know it’s good. Same kind of sluttiness I expected with Kazuha. What would I ever do without you - getting off with your cunt and fucking you as I please. God, baby- it’s so fucking tight down there, I could never-” 

You’re left speechless when you abruptly pull out, slap your cockhead along her clit and she’s gushing everywhere, spraying the sheets, squirting in mere seconds. Kazuha drops her jaw in shock, ecstatic, amazed- 

“Kazuha’s in her own world, and she’s living in it,” You snap your hips, yank her body, sending another aftershock - your hands will never leave. “It shouldn’t be this easy, babe - the way that you’re just one, insufferable, cocktease-” 

Yunjin crunches her eyes, and her lower half subconsciously rolls with yours. She’s one to have her moment, but the way that she’s just taking it - so fucking well- 

“This strap couldn’t fill her enough,” Kazuha chides. And that’s the daunting realization - it’s one thing to keep things mundane, by the book, but this: the degrading, the power going to your head, the advantages you seized for yourself, you’re speaking listless shit and giving less of a fuck for your own benefit. “Now you got a taste of your own medicine, honey. All that talk about having all of him when he clearly has sights for others. Now he’s got me to deal with if you’re not around; and look at him, he’s really greedy. 

Yunjin’s sobbing, tears seeping at the corners. You’re close - everything in your body expanding and rushing to the peak - but her scared expression makes you think otherwise, spares a second thought. 

“Do you believe that, sweetheart?” You grit, releasing your grip around her throat, leaning for a kiss and it brings her back to life. “Tell us how it feels.” 

Kazuha’s scooting closer, the silicon impaled deep in her cunt, tapping her clit at a fast pace. She’s conservative, yet so smug that it’s rubbing on Yunjin instead, the build up is there, voices rising, crescendoing- 

“It’s so good, so- fuck, so fucking good,” she spits, mouth trembling and the rest of the words are in tongues - and you’re sure that you’ve broke her once again. “I love this cock so much - I can’t even begin to describe how well it fucks me, taking me just to dump your cum, come back for more - please, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop-” 

On instinct, she taps your thigh. A signal to let you know she has a different play in mind. 

You snap your gaze back to Kazuha and she immediately takes the hint, a wicked grin spread on her lips to sell the implied message. 

From there it’s a simple one-two, a bait and switch. You slide out of Yunjin’s well fucked cunt and swoop Kazuha’s legs, pulling her over to you while Yunjin staggers back on the bed, taking the strap-on tossed to her so she can simmer down the aching heat engulfing her stomach. You don’t even register the quick inhale Kazuha does when you seamlessly slip back inside her waiting cunt and pick up right where you left off with her - and the screams level with the incessant slaps of skin on skin. 

“Back for more, are you?” Kazuha grunts, sucking in her gut from the pull on her shoulders and into your cock. “Such a shameless boy.” 

“Shut your fucking mouth, whore.” You’re bearing no mind to the word sputtered out. The only thing in your head is taking your roommate’s pussy and making it yours. Nothing more, nothing less. “Gonna ruin this cunt now.” 

“Hold still and look pretty,” demands Yunjin, and she’s on Kazuha’s side, strap-drunk as Kazuha’s head tips back and slides her hand down her abs to her cunt, watching you fuck and fuck and fuck into Kazuha - wrecked and full of your cock, like you needed this to relieve the stress out your body, and Yunjin’s face twists to something more evil, twisted, witnessing a prophecy come to fruition- 

“Look at our cute cocksleeve go.” Yunjin’s fingers tap your forearm, nails clawing curves into your skin - the sting going unnoticed as the thrusts keep moving - another sense acquired, you’re sweating, overheating. “I’m sure he came in you already, and guess what? He’s gonna ruin your tight cunt and fill you up to the brim - when we’re done with you, you’re gonna have to be carried around the house-” 

Kazuha cries and cums on your waist - Yunjin sits up, fingers fast to the crease of her legs, surprised and seeing it all unfold. As for you, you’re tensing, gritting teeth together, cumming inside her cunt, the release sought after now tumbling in true bliss- 

“Oh, no. We can’t have you be that loud now.” 

Yunjin waddles over on her knees to Kazuha’s head, angles her head, and pushes the plastic cock between her lips, smothering with her own spit - see the bob form in her throat when she takes it halfway in. 

You’re still going, pulling out and sliding your tip across her folds, soaked in white and convinced that there’s more for you to offer. The strokes are consistent, long enough for another minute or so until you’re spilling a second load in her walls, pumping her full. 

“God, fucking- Jesus. Kazuha-” 

“Mmfrjmph,” she’s got herself full of other things to worry about than your leaking cum in her pussy. 

“Jen, switch.” You give the order and your girlfriend drags her hips away from Kazuha’s face. From the second you pull your cock out, white strips start to drip onto the sheets. Your mind’s barely there, putting every fiber of muscle from the nerves to get you at the headboard of the bed and settle into a comfortable position - and Yunjin flips Kazuha over, hooks her hands to her hips, dragging it towards her crotch, she managed to get the strap-on in time, pointing the length to her cunt, picking up small ribbons at the tip. 

“Think she needs a little clean up before you have your fun,” you suggest, fingers buried deep into the threads of Kazuha’s hair and forming it into a lazy bun, ignoring the little ‘ah’ from her lips and focusing her head on your softening cock. “Unless you’re gonna jump right in and get sloppy.” 

“You’ve made my point beautifully,” Yunjin agrees, lowering her head and raising Kazuha’s hips up so she can get the taste of both, pushing her back down and deepening the arch with a lick of her lips. “You taste good.” 

“Are you saying that to me? Or Zuha?” 

“Whatever answer you like.” 

Kazuha, as always, refuses to pay attention. Rather- her attention is drawn back to your cock, tongue sweeping the underside, your head falling back and hitting the wood behind, feeling her mouth lap up the mess of your cum slicked cock and slide your hips deeper into the mattress. This is heaven for her, for Yunjin too. A truce made once the damage has been done- 

“Don’t go too hard on Zuha, she’s been through a lot.” you tell her, but it’s more of a blessing in disguise when you and Yunjin are on the same page in most cases. A girl like Kazuha on her hands and knees, a collective effort fulfilled. 

Yunjin cackles and there’s no further meaning there, the tone sweet, syrupy - you could get drunk on it every single time her face brightens up. She’s leaning over to kiss you, arms wobbling in support so that she doesn’t fall on top of Kazuha, and it’s happened before. “Aw, well that’s too bad. I was gonna give her that and nothing else,” she tells you, smacking her lips off of you. Her hands rest at the swell of Kazuha’s waist, kneading and slapping lightly as a light tease. “You think I can’t hold my own.” 

You’re seeing a warble in the room somewhere - on Yunjin. The outer line of her stature warps in your vision - hot, messy, maliciously - jerking Kazuha’s hips back and brushes her hips to her ass.” 

“Yunjin, fuck- holy shit-” 

Kazuha gasps, smiling. The babbles are complete gibberish, filthy - Yunjin’s ramming her strap inside her ass, cum being pushed well into Kazuha’s womb, poking a little bump in her stomach, speeding up the motion and clawing wherever she can. Kazuha swallows up your cock, brushing the head at the top of her throat, humming - the vibrations bringing you back to life- 

“She’s built for taking pain,” Yunjin assesses, experimental. She has no regard for her best friend - and you see the whites in Kazuha’s eyes roll back, her lips sealed at the base and understands where she lies between you two. It’s where she’s meant to be, it seems. You could drop witty drawls and creative comebacks; when it comes to fucking her, neither of you expected her to this soaked. “What a slut. Not even a proper dick-down and spanking can’t shut you up.” 

Kazuha’s slurps mesh with the words. “I - mmrfph - fine, I swear. Okay-” 

It’s somewhat comprehending to have her like this, split in two and mouth full of your cock. “Yeah, she’s good. Kazuha- Kazuha, baby.” 

There’s nothing better than this. 

Kazuha getting her hole fucked, sucking you dry. 

She sucks. 

And sucks. 

“If there’s anything that we’ve learned,” Yunjin says mid-thrust, pointing Kazuha’s leg up to the ceiling, deepening the angle, “We both can fuck her brains to mush if we wanted to. Any time in the day, just pull her aside and tell her what to do. What do ya think?” 

You’re nodding, stuttering. Kazuha’s mouth has you speechless. “I have no objections,” you barely say, thighs tensing and shaking. “Yunjin, I’m gonna cum in her mouth.” 

“Then go ahead,” Yunjin tells you, and you do. Kazuha cheeks puff up at the eruption, streams of white leaking at the corners, satisfied. 

Yunjin gives one more good thrust for measure, slides the strap-on out of her fucked cunt, exhaustion collapsing her body, pleased and content with her end of the bargain - the strap-on gets tossed off the bed and onto the floor, made well with its use and disregarded. 

She rolls over to your side soon after, glancing. Kazuha’s face clearly spent and drifting off to sleep. For the time being. 

–

“We might’ve killed her,” you tell Yunjin peepingyour head past the door frame to see Kazuha’s unmoving body on the bed, “Is it worth checking if she’s breathing?” 

There’s the last remnants of what unfolded hours ago, the quick debrief - that kind of thing. You’ve got your head full of mixed emotions; each one of them occurring in passing seconds: happiness, satisfaction, remorse - unsure and nervous, kind of, it’s been a long night anyway. 

(She’ll wake up in the morning and feel sore. But if her first words of the day are related to bearing you, that’s a clear sign she’s back to normal.) 

“Kazuha’s a good catch,” Yunjin says. “If anything, she’ll complain about her thighs being tight.” 

“In relation to her pilates?” You flip the cup over and let the water flow into the drain. Yunjin’s patting your face with a damp towel. “Or the sex?” 

“Both,” and she smiles. You purse your lips in agreement. “Gotta say, I didn’t expect you to match her energy well.” 

“How could I not? C’mon, the girl was asking for it.” You laugh dryly. 

“Point taken,” Yunjin concedes and opens her limbs to let you in the middle, wrap them around and embrace you fully. Her borrowed shirt crumpling in, folding and forming creases alike. “You’re too good at this.” 

You give her a fond grin. “Wanna tell me that again?” 

“No.”

“No?” 

To suffice, she slots her lips to yours, leans back and taps the bathroom mirror. “Okay, it’s past our bedtime already.” 

You find yourself slipping through the chestnut pools and the titian waves - an endless valley to get lost in, the light radiating perfectly to where it highlights and complements the shades well. You’ve said a lot of things to her, more than you can probably count. 

“Love us,” you’re proclaiming, preaching to the open air. Her dragged grin pulls you deeper, and you spot the scrunch at the bridge of her brows: she couldn’t agree more. Then it reverts back to normal: “lose the shirt, we’ll share the body heat under the sheets.” 

–

The first day with drastic changes beckoning are scary.

This is nothing new.

Starting from scratch, conceptually, is always a new brush of inspiration, no matter what the event is. Luckily, it’s reassuring that you’re not facing these new horizons alone. With a guy like you, that has wonderful people in your corner - willing to support any endeavor you indulge in, it’s empowering. You’re convinced that the clouds part in the sky for the sun to fill the endless canvas of blue and you feel that whatever’s manifested in your mind will eventually come true. 

You have the same old pattern with Yunjin: take her out somewhere nice every now and then, waste your time doing nothing on some days, hold her heels or bag without her asking, let her treat you well whenever she feels like it. You share the usual banter, fuck her if things get boring, give her a lot of things to deal with that she’ll brush off later. 

With Kazuha, it’s a dice roll: 

She still spits out shit to you with no reason, and you return the favor and fuck her till she begs for more, gets into petty arguments until she comes walking back without saying a word, unable to take compliments, rambles endless fantasies waiting to be fulfilled more than just once. And you accept that she won’t let you off easily. 

When the two of them are together, sitting across from you or on their knees; backs on the bed or one eating out the other's cunt, it’s a place of a guaranteed connection; one that’s massively fucked up and with a million ways to go about with the pair. You and Yunjin know this - and between the three of you, it remains unsaid. 

“Got everything?” Yunjin asks, handing your trusted tumbler and ruffling up your hair, dusting off your windbreaker like a mom seeing off their child for school. “Expecting a slow day, aren’t you?” 

“You know me,” you drawl, grinning. “I’d much rather waste my time here and get paid for it.” 

The back of your head nicks forward as a response from behind, looking past your shoulder to see Kazuha tilt her head in view, getting a closer look of your appearance and drawing up her own assessment. “Until one of us get another job, it seems like you’re the main breadwinner of the household.” 

“Zuha, him and I were expecting your half of the rent for this month,” says Yunjin, hand to her hip and pouting, “Wanna tell us where the fuck it is?” 

Kazuha sashays herself next to Yunjin, inciting a staredown that ends after two seconds, shaking her head and dodging the question entirely. “Don’t worry about it. But I have the money, I swear.” 

“And what if you don’t have it when he comes back?” Yunjin asks Kazuha, rolling her eyes before shifting her gaze back to normal, “Then what?” 

You’re making your way out as the two continue with the quick argument, disregarding their attention. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll be heading out now.” 

“Can I fuck her again while you’re gone?’ Yunjin then asks, shouldering her weight to Kazuha. “At least until-” 

You sigh. 

“I’d like to ask the same question, but do it on Yunjin,” Kazuha replies. 

(It’s a lot on your plate with Yunjin. Sure. Kazuha’s added herself to the mix - and it’s a tad bit more complicated. Maybe worse. Fuck all you know: you like them both.) 

“I’ll handle you two later,” you’re telling the pair, and they know you mean every word - a promise. “Feel free to get started.” After, you see yourself out the door. 

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Simon was seething. Never had he been so viscerally angry, his temper dangerously towing the tight rope that was his self control. You’d almost been killed. You’d been shot, and you were damn lucky that it hadn’t been fatal.

He found you on the roof later that night, no longer hiding the pain the bullet wound in your side had caused once you thought you were alone. It took all of two seconds of him seeing you hurting like that for him to snap.

“The fuck were you thinking out there, Y/N?!” His voice echoed in the night air, causing you to flinch slightly. “Do please tell me you’ve got a reasonable explanation for what happened.”

“Simon, please just calm down for a minute.” Your voice was soft, too soft, and it only fueled his anger more.

“Calm down? You want me to calm down?” Simon bellowed, his self control rapidly slipping out of his grasp. “You almost fuckin’ died, Y/N!”

Simon hated the way you flinched, hated the way you backed up ever so slightly away from him, but he couldn’t control himself. He had almost lost you.

“I know that, Simon. I know. But I don’t regret what went down.” You forced your voice steady, your eyes not leaving his as you attempted to stand your ground. “I-.”

“You don’t regret almost getting shot? Y/N, you’re not on this team to make reckless decisions. If I knew you’d be making choices like that, I’d have had Price kick you off the team months ago! Almost dying, for what? For what?!” Simon moved closer to you, the red in his vision nearly blinding, and this time you didn’t back away.

“For you, asshole!” You screamed, your hands reaching for Simon’s chest, pushing him as hard as you possibly could. Simon barely moved an inch before you screamed again. “For you! If I hadn’t taken that bullet, you would’ve died!”

Simon’s world stopped in that moment, the red vanishing from his vision, his heart coming to a slow halt in his chest as he absorbed your words. For him?

“He was aiming at you, Simon. If I hadn’t stepped in the way, we would’ve lost you. And I.” You trailed off, unable to look at the hulking man in front of you. “I don’t know, I didn’t hesitate, it was as if it was just instinct for me.”

Simon could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the soft thud thud thud the only thing keeping him grounded. You’d saved him. You’d risked your life to save him.

You, the sweet soldier who always put others first. You, the one who’d always patched him up late at night, laughing at his shitty jokes. You, the one who understood him like nobody else. You, the one person in this godforsaken world that got him to lower the never ending walls within him. You, the one he’d unknowingly loved for years. Saved him.

“I know it was stupid, and if you want to kick me off of the team for it, fine. But I’d do it again.” You threw your hands up in the air, and Simon didn’t miss the way you winced from the pain in your side. “I don’t regret it.”

Simon only stared at you, his eyes betraying none of the inner turmoil that he was currently experiencing.

“I couldn’t lose you, Simon.” Your voice was barely audible as you spoke, your eyes falling on the lower half of his mask. “Not now, not ever. I don’t know what I would’ve done if that bullet hit you.”

Simon’s eyes found yours as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue felt heavy, incapable of moving. For the first time in his life, he truly didn’t know what to say.

He watched as you chewed your bottom lip, your eyes leaving his yet again as you looked down at your feet. God he wishes he could say something, anything, but as always words failed him around you.

“I’ve got to go report in to Price.” You said, slowly turning away from him to face the door. “I won’t apologize for what I did, but I’m sorry for causing you to doubt my ability to support the team. Have a good night, lieutenant.”

Watching you turn away from him had finally stirred something within him, his heart rapidly beating in his chest. He had to make this right.

“Y/N.” Simon found his voice as you reached the roof’s door, causing you to turn to face him. “Wait.”

Your heart practically stopped beating upon finding Simon’s mask discarded, his face now fully bare for you to see. You weren’t sure what you had expected, once you’d finally seen him, but it certainly wasn’t this.

He was simply beautiful. Every scar, every small freckle, dimple, wrinkle had formed his face impeccably well, and you couldn’t help but stare at him as your mind ran completely blank.

You’d fallen for the masked man long ago, his dry humor, loyalty and bravery were something that’d you’d found yourself drawn to. You’d meant what you said to him about not regretting taking a bullet for him. You loved him. And truthfully couldn’t fathom a life without him.

“Now you see me.” Simon breathed, his eyes softening as he watched you take in every inch of his face. He should’ve felt vulnerable, shy even. But he didn’t. Not with you. He wanted you to see him, every imperfect inch of him.

He bared himself to you, let his face and eyes tell you everything he didn’t know how to express with words.

“I’ve always seen you, Simon Riley.” You spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as your hand softly cupped his cheek. “Always.”

And that was all it took for Simon to know he loved you.

[lynxgriffin]

Eldritchrune - The World Revolving

1 | 2

Story Setup Eldritchrune Masterpost

While exploring the ruins of Card Castle, Kris stumbles across a bound god of chaos hiding just under the surface...a foe way more formidable than any they've faced yet!

PHEW I swear, it feels like I've been working on this particular scene forever! Been distracted by many things...other comics, continued wrist troubles, winter break, etc... but finally, it's done and here! This one is probably the most gnarly one yet in terms of body horror, so heed the warning tags!

The latter half will be out tomorrow!

Alt text for these pages is under the read more:

Page 1

Panel 1 - A wide shot as Kris, Ralsei, and Susie make their way through the card kingdom castle…a wrecked ruin, with half-broken towers and ripped banners fluttering in the open air. Lancer sits happily on top of Susie’s head. “Are we there yet?” asks Susie. Lancer replies with a simple “No.”

Panel 2 - Closer on Kris as they look downwards. Something has caught their attention. In the background, Susie and Lancer repeat the exchange: “Are we there yet?” / “No.”

Panel 3 - Kris notices what looks like a trail of parchment torn into different shapes, leading down into a lower level of the ruins. 

Panel 4 - Kris begins to follow the scrap paper trail across large stones, straying off of the pain path through the castle ruins.

Panel 5 - Ralsei notices that Kris has wandered away from them. Susie and Lancer also look on in the background. “Kris? Where are you going?” asks Ralsei.

Panel 6 - Kris points at the scrap trail leading down into the rocks, still focused on it. “The old shopkeep, Seam…they mentioned something about a path cut from pages…”

Page 2

Panel 1 - Side view of Ralsei as he watches Kris descend down, and cautiously holds up a hand in warning. “It’s not wise to wander too far off-course, Kris!” he says. 

Panel 2 - Kris doesn’t seem to pay attention to the warning. In a wide shot, we see them following the trail down a series of large stone steps that seem to be shaped into a spiral. At the bottom of the spiral is another stone with unknown markings on it. “They said there could be something useful to us at the end of it…” Kris says.

Panel 3 - Wider shot of Kris now at the bottom of the spiral. Ralsei, Susie and Lancer watch warily from above, back on the main path.

Panel 4 - Kris approaches the stone at the center of the spiral. It seems to be covered in moss, but something else catches their attention first–

Panel 5 - Closer on the stone, it shows that it has markings on it: a cross, divided up into the four card suits. Kris leans in closer to observe and brush the dirt from the stone. “There’s something here…” they say.

Panel 6 - From high above, Ralsei sees Kris focusing on the stone in the spiral. “Kris? Hang on just a second…” he says, holding out a hand in warning.

Panel 7 - Closeup on Kris’s hand as they brush against the marked stone. Their thumb touches a trigger hidden on the side of the stone, which gives a sharp ‘CLICK’.

Page 3

Panel 1 - Kris lets out a surprised yell as very suddenly, they plummet down beneath the stone–

Panel 2 - Their yell continues as they vanish into what is revealed to be a sudden trap door, opened right below where they were standing. 

Panel 3 - The remaining Fun Gang look on with shock and surprise, and call out as Kris vanishes. Susie gives a shocked “Woah!” and Ralsei cries out “KRIS!”

Panel 4 - A vertical panel as Kris plummets down into open darkness, their limbs flailing. Light from above shines on them as they fall.

Panel 5 - With a grunt of pain, Kris lands on what appears to be a sandy hill–

Panel 6 - And continues to tumble down the hill, sand trailing behind them–

Panel 7 - Very wide shot as Kris’s fall continues, showing that they are sliding down an enormous sand hill, like the inside of an enormous hourglass. Only a single shaft of light shines from where they fell. Otherwise the area is empty darkness.

Page 4

Panel 1 - Kris’s finally slides to a stop somewhere in the sand. They grit their teeth, and try to get back onto their feet. 

Panel 2 - Kris suddenly springs back up, eyes wide in shock, as a strange, bellowing laughter booms around them: “UUH HEE HEE HEE…”

Panel 3 - Kris looks ahead of them…at the very bottom of the sand pit, like an antlion at the bottom of a pit trap, sits what appears to be a bulb, or a closed circus tent. 

Panel 4 - Wider shot as Kris gets to their feet, very wary. “Who’s there?”

Panel 5/6/7 - Multiple panels as the enormous circus tent moves, and begins to unfurl itself…showing massive hands made of bone and stretched tent material, like sinewy skin. Each bony finger is tipped with an enormous scythe. The creature lifts itself up enough to show the a jester’s head, hanging upside down from the bottom of the tent. The jester’s face sports slit eyes, multiple hoop earrings on its pointed ears, and a smile of jagged teeth. 

Panel 8 - Wide shot as Kris stands tiny before the enormous form of Jevil - a creature of bones and tent skin and scythes, balanced precariously upside-down over what appears to be a bottomless pit. Jevil looks at Kris and declares, “WELCOME, WELCOME, LITTLE LOST HUMAN! YOUR FREEDOM IS WITHIN REACH!”

Page 5

Panel 1 - Kris looks up in fear and confusion at the giant creature, and tries to step back. “What are you?!” they ask.

Panel 2 - Focus on Jevil’s upside down face as he grins back at Kris, and says, “A GOD, LOST HUMAN! A GOD OF CHAOS, CHAOS!”

Panel 3 - Kris stands small against the chaos god as he continues to grin down them. “COME CLOSER, AND WE SHALL ENGAGE IN SUCH MERRIMENT!”

Panel 4 - Kris eyes the enormous scythes at the end of the fingers, and continues to step back, extremely cautious. “A god, is it? I think I’d prefer the rest of my party be here for any ‘merriment’,” they reply.

Panel 5 - Jevil twists his head to the side with curiosity and glee, and replies. “I INSIST! I SEE YOUR SOUL DESIRES CHAOS! WHAT EXCITEMENT, WE ARE KINDRED SPIRITS!”

Panel 6 - Focus on Jevil’s scythe fingers as they begin to move through the sand, creaking with the effort. He is beginning to spin.

Panel 7 - Shot from above on Jevil as he spins faster and faster, the tent body and splayed scythe fingers blurring into a hypnotic spiral. The wind howls around him with the spinning.

Panel 8 - Kris jolts forward as the winds pick up around them. The spinning is creating a gyre, drawing them in closer.

Page 6

Panel 1 - Kris tries to slow their slide as Jevil continues to spin and spin, drawing them in closer. The winds and movement are hard to resist. “LET US PLAY, PLAY!” Jevil cries in delight. “TRUE FREEDOM AWAITS YOU!”

Panel 2 - Kris looks up at the revolving god, unable to stop their slide through the sand. The winds whip their hair and cowl around them. However…

Panel 3 - “If I can get past those blades and make the jump…” Kris thinks to themself, as the scene shows Jevil’s smiling face through the whirlwinds.

Panel 4 - Closeup on Kris. They grimace to themself as the wind continues to buffet them and pull them in, and finish the thought: “...One good swing should sever the head and end this!”

Panel 5 - Kris pulls out their sword as they continue to slide closer to the edge of the gyre. Jevil looks on as they say aloud, “I don’t know that I trust a bound god’s concept of freedom.”

Panel 6 - Jevil tilts his head down at them, still smiling as always, and replies, “BOO HOO  HOOEE HEE! AND DOES YOUR SOUL KNOW IT?”

Page 7

Panel 1/2/3 - Multiple panels as Kris slides down the sand, holding their sword at the ready. They ready their sword in another panel, back to the camera, facing down a laughing Jevil. The final panel includes a closeup of their hand gripping the sword, although their hand is shaking. Across all panels, Jevil continues to taunt them: “IN THE BELLY OF A ROAMING BEAST, IN THE OWNERSHIP OF A DEMON PRINCE, IN THE RIGID RULES OF YOUR LIGHT WORLD? IS IT THERE?”

Panel 4 -  The scythe fingers swing by in a blur as Kris slides into the gyre, and pulls their arm back, ready to strike with their sword–

Panel 5 - A black and white abstract panel - something sharp slices through the darkness, and strikes home.

Panel 6 - Closeup on Kris’s face as they look shocked into silence–

Panel 7 - And the camera pulls out to reveal that their sword arm is gone, sliced off completely at the shoulder. They can only look down at the stump where their arm once was in horror.

Panel 8 - Kris screams as they’re thrown helplessly into the center of the whirling gyre, blood streaming behind them from their severed arm. Jevil faces them with glee and declares, “NO, NO! YOUR FREEDOM IS HERE!”

Page 8

Panel 1 - The panels are jagged now, coming apart along with the world itself. Kris is trapped in the searing whirlwind, orbiting around Jevil’s spinning head. The world is a blurred tornado. Jevil cries, “A SIMPLE CHAOS IS ALL YOU NEED! UNRAVEL MIND, BODY AND SOUL!”

Panel 2 - Kris is subjected to the god’s command. They scream into the void as their body is unraveled in the gyre, starting at the stump and spreading out to the rest of them in strips of cloth, flesh and bone. 

Panel 3 - A massive panel as Kris is completely torn apart at the seams. Their glowing soul is revealed as their body is peeled away in stips from them, leaving only a few bones and muscles trying to stay together. 

As Kris is pulled apart, Jevil’s voice rings out: “SEE, SEE HOW ALL THE RULES AND ORDERS HAVE TRAPPED YOU? HURT YOU AND KILLED YOU?” In the strips of Kris’s body pulled apart are scenes that seem to confirm Jevil’s worldview: Empire guards chasing down Kris as a young child. Toriel kindly shooing Kris away from a pie they were interested in. Asgore keeping Kris from plants he knows are dangerous. Kris on the altar as they are sacrificed to the demon. Kris giving up their soul to Ralei. Kris being devoured by Susie. Kris trapped at a door by Mr. Society and Mr. Elegance, keeping them from advancing with rules. Kris being revived, again and again, by Ralsei’s control over their soul. “BUT HE HAS SHOWN ME, IT ALL MEANS NOTHING, NOTHING!”

Page 9

Panel 1 - The panels continue to be jagged and harsh as the rest of Kris’s body is completely obliterated in the whirlwind, leaving only their soul spiraling in the gyre. Jevil’s voice continues: “NO RULES, NO HURT, NO PRISONS FOR YOU! SHARE YOUR JOY WITH ME!”

Panel 2 - Kris’s soul begins to break under the strain of Jevil’s version of joy: a swirling mess of eyes, teeth, claws, screaming faces, beasts and sinew and armor. They all close in on their lost soul in a mess of chaos and madness.

Panel 3 - As the winds turn to pure darkness, Kris’s soul begins to dissolve in the gyre as well, broken in the relentless chaos. Jevil’s voice rings out once more: “SHARE YOUR SOUL WITH ME, A TRUE CHAOS, CHAOS!”

Panel 4 - As Kris’s soul is nearly dissolved and lost in complete blackness, another voice cries out: “KRIS!” From the darkness, Ralsei’s glowing eyes and fiery claws reach out to grab Kris’s soul before it’s lost. 

[angelluvsrafe]

rafe struggles to comfort you 002

- request a fic - masterlist - part one -

it had been three weeks since you last saw him. rafe messaged you every day, but you never replied. you had made a few new friends at the beach around a week ago. you had met them a few times.

they were pogues, but they were fun and welcoming. you felt safe with them and they were there for you, a lot more than rafe was.

you had woken up bright and early to go to the beach with the pogues. you found a spot and set up for the day. you and kie were laying on the sand while the boys were in the water.

kiara had fallen asleep a few minutes ago so you also close your eyes. the sound of the waves and inaudible chatter.

“so this is where you’ve been, huh?” a familiar, sharp voice cuts through the serene atmosphere. you look up in the direction of the voice and see rafe. he’s stood over you, staring down at you.

“rafe, i don’t want to talk to you…” you sigh and sit up, brushing the hair away from your face. he scoffs and throws his hands up.

“you’re unbelievable…” he sighs. “you haven’t replied to me in three fucking weeks.”

“yes, because i don’t want to talk to you.” you retort back with an eye roll.

“can we go for a walk or something… i wanna talk to you. i don’t care if the feelings not mutual, i can’t go any longer without speaking to you.” he holds his hand out for you.

you sigh reluctantly and take his hand, standing up. you slip your flip flops on and follow him. he starts walking slowly down the beach.

“so you found some new friends, huh?” he squeezes your hand gently as he speaks. “that why you’ve been ignoring me? have i been replaced?” his face shows a soft smile even though his words feel like a dig.

your heart flutters at the small squeeze, seeing his smile brings back the happy memories of your relationship. you love him, you really do— but the time you spent away from him had you second guessing your happiness.

“i don’t know if i’m the right one for you…” you murmur quietly, looking down at the ground.

“what?” his head snaps towards you, his eyes immediately glaze over with sadness and he automatically pulls you towards him— his steps come to a halt.

“i just don’t think im happy in the relationship, rafe…” you sigh, your heart pangs at the sight of his sad expression. he shakes his head and turns to you, taking your face into his big hands.

“no… you’re happy- you are.” his baby blue eyes look straight into yours, as if the more he looked at you, the more he could convince you that the relationship was good for you. “you’re a happy girl, baby…” he rambles, his eyes flickering between each of your eyes.

“i’m sick of just focusing on the highs… the bad outweighs the good and i’m sick of it rafe, i’m done.” you blurt out with a shaky voice, your bottom lip trembling as your eyes glaze over with salty tears.

“what? are those pogues putting words in your mouth? this isn’t like you, sweetheart.” he replies adamantly, his hands dropping from your face and never breaking eye contact with you.

“no. they’re not putting words in my mouth. i can speak for myself and that’s exactly what i’m doing.” you correct him firmly, repressing your tears. you’re not about to cry infront of him again.

“so that’s it? you’re just leaving me?” he throws his hands up and steps back, scoffing.

“i don’t know rafe. i don’t know what to do.” you sigh, rubbing your hands over your face. “i love you… but i can’t live like this.” you shake your head, looking up at him after you pull your hands away from your face.

“i love you… i love you so much. please don’t end it like this.” he steps forward, wrapping his arms around you.

you want to fight it, you want to stay strong and stand your ground. yet your body can’t resist him and you immediately relax into his chest. his head drops down and his cheek rests against the top of your head as your tears flow down your face.

his shirt becomes more and more soaked by your tears. but neither of you care. you’ve missed his arms.

“you can’t push me away when i need you and then expect me to comfort you when you need me…” you tell him, your voice coming out whinier than you intended due to the tears.

“i won’t push you away ever again…” he shakes his head, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead. “i swear on my life, baby” he murmurs, yet his voice is firm.

“i don’t know what to do, rafe…” you sniffle. you want so badly to believe that he can change and treat you better, yet it seems so impossible with a guy like rafe.

“come to my house… just for the night.” he grabs your shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. his eyes search yours, trying to figure out what you’re feeling.

he just wants a straightforward answer and you’re not giving him one.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea rafe.” you shake your head and he huffs, pulling you closer to him.

“please, sweetheart…” he pleads, his voice barely above a whisper. his nose brushes against yours and your heart flutters.

“no. you’re just doing this to try and change me mind. i’m not stupid.” you snap, finally finding the courage to step away from him. “were done rafe… i can’t live like that. it’s miserable.” you sigh, feeling the tears prick in your eyes yet again.

“please… if you need a break, we’ll take a break. but i don’t wanna lose you. you’re too special to me.” his voice trembles as he tries to grab your arm again. you shake your head and pull away from him.

“fine, whatever. just- leave me alone…” you tell him, he reluctantly nods. “i’ll talk to you when im ready…” you add before starting to walk away, back to the spot you were at.

“yeah… i love you, baby…” he croaks out as his hand slips of of yours soft skin. his heart aches as he watches you walk away.

— ·˚ ༘ a/n - sorry for the long wait. i hate this so much omg >:(

[muntitled]

No Promises

Jake Sim x Fem!Reader

Summary: “So hypothetically, what would you do if I told you the condom broke-”

Warnings: Language, Domestic Fluff, Slight Angst, Himbo!Jake, Nerd!Reader, Smut +18 (minors dni) Dom!Jake, Pussy Drunk Jake, He really wants kids, Breeding Kink, Humping, Grinding, Slight Dub/Con, Unprotected Sex, Dub/Con Raw Sex, Perv!Jake, Rough Sex, Forceful Breeding, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Unedited

I'm ovulating

Jaeyun's head is filled to the brim with unsavoury business as he shuffles through the university office.

'It's simple,' Jake says to himself as he cradles the rugby ball under his arm. 'Not. A big deal.'

Once Jake enters the university office, he is immediately bombarded by the smell of old, academic wood. Here, the less crowded, air conditioned space is a nice breakaway from the sweltering rugby field, but all that plagues Jake’s mind are the overwhelming memories of you.

Specifically, you last night, bathed under the sweet honey glow of your cheap salt lamp. His lips on yours as you straddled him on the floor. Skin everywhere.

Jaeyun still remembers his tongue meshing against your own, all he tasted was the ruddiness of white wine.

The pillow forte you were initially building in the living room lay forgotten around you, instead, the space became a lovenest with the moon staring idly from beyond your cream blinds.

"Ride me," Jake breathed out with his mouth attaching itself to the sensitive skin between your neck and shoulder. He drifted your braids out of the way, letting his hand massage your scalp as he craned your neck backwards.

"I need to see you ride me." His voice was hoarse as he manoeuvred you to straddle his hips.

He remembers the texture of the string of beads tied around your waist.

He remembers the air leaving his lungs when you lowered your heat to his cock.

He remembers not being able to stop.

"Did you buy the condoms," you had asked the diabolical question, right when he was about to get it in.

"Fuck the condoms…" he laughed dryly with his thumb skimming across your hips, bumping against the waist beads, "We're both clean. I wanna feel you."

Jake had been wholly disappointed to see your face harden into that pissed off look that was always aimed at the students you tutored.

He'd be scared if he didn't find it hot.

"That's so incredibly unfunny," you pushed at his chest until he released a winded breath, "Don't piss me off, Jaeyun,"

"Fine- fuck- I was kidding,"

He wasn't. And even when he slipped the condom on and slipped inside, Jake became delirious with pleasure of it all.

"Where do you want me to cum?" he had asked.

Naive, unsuspecting you, had replied, “Inside. Y-You're wearing a condom, right? Inside.” Jake fucking lost his mind all the same.

The evening had ended with Jake skimming his hand over the fullness of your ass as he pulled his bottom lip against his teeth.

He watched the softness of your skin mould under his grip as he snickered, "She gon' take it up the ass like a ventriloquist-"

"Do not quote Kanye at me after we just had sex." You groaned.

But Jake wasn't done because now he was thinking about your ass and you'd both gone on for 2 more rounds.

'It's easy,' says present-day-Jake, shaking his hair as if to clear away the thoughts before they took root and really became a problem for him.

His little inner pep talk guides him to the receptionist desk. 'Just tell her the condom snapped and I may have cum a little inside. It's not my fault I'm fucking huge,' but even just the thought of it has Jake warming with anxiety.

"Good morning, Jake!" It's not difficult to plaster on his golden boy smile for the receptionist. Everyone at this University buys the absolute shit he sells, never once questioning their star athletes true intentions behind his disarming smile. He could get away with murder.

"Morning," Jake replied, knocking on the wood of the large mahogany desk. All this mahogany and yet all he could smell was you. Cocoa Butter was an all consuming thing.

"Is she in?" He asks, prompting the receptionist to nod. As Jake walks down the mouth of a corridor leading to the offices of tutors, professors and assistant professors, he keeps his head bowed until he reaches your door.

When you let him into the empty office, all thoughts vanished. Storming in his mind were solutions as to how he might divulge his little slip-up.

"Keep the door open, Jake, I don't do scandals." He was enamoured at the sight of you seated behind the large brown desk with your eyes dark and sleepy. Jake already tried to work out the probability of you remaining calm at the knowledge that the condom he used last night had been breached but looking at you here, he knew there was no possible reality in which you wouldn't try to murder him.

He closes the door despite your words and all you do is look up from your paper and sigh.

Seduction, he decided, was his only defence.

“Is there a reason you're bothering me at work?”

"Didn't know assistant professors got their own offices," he says, dropping the rugby ball in a corner beside a stack of mind-numbing philosophy manifestos.

"We don't," you say, never looking up from your paper, "I don't know how long I'm gonna have this space to myself to mark in peace, that's why we have to be quick-

"Quick," Jake's head snaps up, "I can do quick."

Instead of taking note of your eyeballs rolling to the back of your skull, Jake instead focuses on the expanse of your cleavage spilling out of that diabolically tight v-neck. "The conversation, Jake. What do you want? I have essays to mark." You drop the papers in a huff of unbridled academic frustration, effectively giving Jake the opening he needs to walk towards your desk until he's behind your chair. His hands drift over your shoulders, kneading the tense skin until your head is rolling back, away from the work.

"I thought you'd be happy to see your boyfriend,” he loved referring to himself as ‘boyfriend’, it made him secure in his role. “I have an inter-uni game to catch with the boys but I'm gracing you with my presence instead," your eyes flutter closed as you relax back into the security of Jake's hands.

"You really don't have to talk, babe,"

"But this place is so suffocating," Jake huffs, letting his eyes drift over the dark and dreary room flooded with books, papers, old, depressing paintings of old depressing philosophers. "I can feel myself getting smarter just being here. It's disgusting."

You hum as Jake's thumb drifts under the thin fabric of your v-neck, kneading into the tissue surrounding your shoulder blade. "It's almost like there's more to campus than just the rugby field," your him bleeds into a moan as Jake fingers prod at a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves.

"I had no idea," he says with mock sarcasm. You chuckle lightly as you let Jake's fingers coax you into a much needed break. The peace is a welcome getaway from the tedium that came from fixing grammatical issues and spelling errors.

Jake's left hand continues to knead at your back while his right drifts to the front of your neck. He could've been a chiropractor in his past life, Jake thinks idly as he cups the base of your throat until he's turning your head to match his ministrations.

"Fuck," that tiny sound leaving your mouth does everything to focus Jake's attention down on you. His eyes are hooded as he watches you seated before him and he's all too aware of the fact that this angle allows him to see down your top, into the pillowy expanse of your cleavage.

Jake pushes his hardening cock against the back of your high back chair as he continues to massage your back and neck.

And sure, maybe his hand may drift a little lower down your chest while the other continues to work at your neck.

You almost don't catch him when he says, "So hypothetically what would you do if I told you the condom broke-"

Your eyes snap open and you try to rid yourself of Jake's hands but the hand drifting against your cleavage cages you to the chair. No running.

"What the fuck is wrong with you lately?! Did I not tell you I would rather die than let you inject me with your evil spawn-"

Something dark settles on Jake's face as he stops his ministrations.

There's a moment of disorientation before you realise that Jake spun your chair to face him. One hand on the back of the chair as he leans down, with your faces far too close for it not to be inappropriate.

"Would it really be so bad?" He whispers, before tilting his head to slot his mouth against yours.

Luckily your senses are heightened but still rational as you push him away, effectively standing up to create more distance between you two.

Jake, however, sees your plan and instead of letting you act it out, he slots you in between himself and the desk. Your butt pressing against the edge of the wood so there was no escape.

"No Jake," you say in frustration because now Jake's hands were pawing at your hips like he usually did when he was coaxing you into being as horny as he was. "Getting me pregnant wouldn't just be bad-"

"Perfect," he says, dipping down to place a kiss on your collar bone, "So we agree-"

"It'd be catastrophic. I'd abort it immediately." Jake's hands curl into your hips and you watch under furrowed brows as Jake begins to fiddle with the drawstring of his shorts.

"You're catholic," he says before dipping down to undo the buttons of your jeans. "You're not aborting my baby."

You think your boyfriend is utterly delirious, but even more harrowing is the bit of molten attraction stirring in the bottom of your stomach at seeing him so sure of something. So in charge.

His bare arms are glistening from playing rugby under the sweltering sun and his skin has that honey tint that drove you feral with lust.

You hated the urge that plagued your mind to push your thighs tightly together but Jake immediately stops you. He pushes your jeans down, leaving you standing dumbly with your mouth hanging open as he slots himself between your legs. You try to wriggle yourself away but Jake keeps you locked with his hands framing your sides.

"Last night was hot, yeah?" He huffs with his shorts hanging lazily under the bulge of his Calvin Kleins. He presses himself against you, moaning straight into the crook of your neck.

"J-Jeez, Jake," you whimper, unable to stop yourself from lifting your hips to meet his grinding, "Y-You're disturbing me from work-" speaking was growing very difficult, especially because Jake was unclipping your bra from behind. "Cus all you think about is sex-"

"All I think about is sex with you." He clarifies as wriggles you out of the v-neck.

"I don't think that's a crime-" he says, immediately cupping your breasts in his large hands as he pushes his cock further against you. Jake throws his head back before huffing and puffing while he stares down at you needily humping against him.

"You say you don't want it," he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip as he lifts his shirt, "but you're like a pup in heat, babe,"

"F-Fuck, if we're gonna do this, hurry before anyone comes," the words are like music to his ears and his exposed stomach flexes as he hurriedly pulls down his boxers.

You help him out of his shirt, and both your movements are so heated, so clumsy, you don't think you've ever been this wet.

"Fuck- you gotta be quick, big boy, before someone comes, yeah?" You repeat, knowing your boyfriend became completely unresponsive and pussy drunk during sex. Jake hums in weak response, far too focused on jerking himself off…the head of his cock periodically bumping against your clothed cunt.

"Say you want this dick- c'mon, say it-" he urges with heavy eyelids and all the fight is wiped out of you. You lean back, opening your legs to accommodate him further between you and Jake only groans as he jerks his cock.

"J-Jake, you can't cum in me, yeah-"

"Come on, bro," he groans as he brings his hand in between your legs. “Still?!”

His fingers prod at your clit as your hips stutter to meet his hand. "I'm just tryna get it in, why are you being like this?"

You manage to slip out a scoff in between your moaning.

"Y-You're not 'getting it in' until you divulge what on earth you're thinking about that has you this fucking feral." he was operating on neandthral level need and you needed to know what the cause of it was. You needed to know what had your boyfriend so strung out on your body, on the scent of you, at the sight of you.

You want this Jake all the time.

"You're so pretty," he mumbles, instead, with his gaze locked firmly on your cunt. He swipes your panties aside, unwilling to part with the cute pink material yet and you arch your back, inviting him in.

"If I tell you what I'm thinking about…" he says, lining his cock up with your cunt. Your entire back now pressed supine against the desk, "You'll end up pregnant before the end of the day," Jake concludes his statement by ramming his cock into your cunt, effectively lodging all your complaints in the back of your throat. The desk creaks as he continually rams his cock into you in viscous, rough thrusts.

He's a panting mess, watching your body contort in pleasure as your breasts jiggle with every thrust.

"Oh my fucking g- fuck-" Jake hovers over you, never once slowing his movements even when he tweaks your nipples.

"You're so fucking pretty, you know that? Taking this dick so fucking good-"

You clench around him, loving how vulgar he got whenever you had sex. His hair is already messy but it becomes even more so when you drag your fingers through it, discarding the hair tie that kept his black curls rained to the back.

"Oh my god, baby, you're such a slut-" he lets his words slip and it only turns you on more and more as you drag him down for a sloppy kiss. Your hips rise to meet his thrusts, willing your orgasm to crest.

"B-Baby-” he pants, “Pretty Baby, I need to tell you something-" the second those words left his mouth in sloppy succession, your alarm bells were ringing. Even more so when he dipped his hands between your body until he was rubbing furious circles against your clit.

"J-Just, shh, Jakey, I'm close-"

"The condom broke, last night-"

Your hips still, but his continue to fuck into you- continues to rub at your clit until your body can't help but obey.

"WHA- OH FUCK, JUST LIKE THAT-" your seeing stars when the tip of Jake's cock rams against that particular pillow of nerves. "F-Fuck Jakey."

He was still your Jakey and he took that as a sign to continue fucking into you with reckless abandon.

"Gonna fill you up with my cum, again princess?"

"Jake-"

"Yesterday when you were riding me," he says in harsh staccato. His breath is rough and rugged. "A-And your hips were moving just right and your tits- God those tits." He leans back to watch them jiggle underneath them and Jake's balls squeezes in warning. "I just-" his voice cracks as he whines, "I just needed to flood you with my cum, baby-" your cunt squeezes his cock once more and you're both dangerously close to the edge.

"H-Here-'' he says, bringing your hand up to his throat. "Choke m-me, I think I'm gonna cum." His words alone have your back arching off the desk, slipping into your own orgasm.

“J-Jake-” Somehow you still muster the energy to choke him like he wants and that has his hips stuttering and the praises flying from his lips as he says, "F-Fuck, I'm cumming for you, Angel. You're milking my cock- babe-" his hips ram into yours as his eyes squeeze shut. Jake's caught in the ultimate pleasure as he imagines everything from your tits swelling with milk, to him fucking you while you were pregnant.

"O-Oh my fucking god," the amount of cum leaking out of his cock threatens to push him out of you, and you're both huffing in the quiet office air.

Soon you're both hurtling down to your current reality, but still, Jake keeps his hand on your hips, listening to your heartbeat.

"If you really don't want one - I'll go get you a plan b right now-"

"W-wait," you stop him from leavi⁷ng, "Let's... talk about it later. No promises."

Jake smiles, "No promises.”

[sadesluvr]

TEETH.

Sergei Kravinoff might be a villian, and you a hero; but at the end of the day you're both animals.

A/N: First fic in a while so my bad if it sucks. You already know this movie was basically ass but we only watched it for ATJ anyway - I'm changing some of Kraven's character so he's similar to the comics/Spider-Man 2 game, so be sure to read the tags bc he’s a lil dark…

Word count: 2.3K

Tags: SMUT / DUB-CON / Spiderwoman! Reader / Breeding / Unprotected + rough sex

Kraven feared nothing. 

It simply wasn’t in his blood; not his staunchly machismo upbringing, nor in his DNA, quite literally having that of a lion. Fear made one weak. Fear made you less of a man. Fear was what killed his mother. 

If anything, fear was just another animal; ready to be captured, killed and conquered, ultimately destined to be draped across his chiselled body or mounted on a wall.  

You were simply no different. 

He never really understood why people were afraid of spiders, but he knew that they were a nuisance, having haunted him since he was a boy. Spiders weren’t savages like lions or bears, but they were sneaky; crawling around in the dark and waiting to strike, with a face so obscured that you’d never really know what you were looking at...what they were thinking.  

But now, with your mask off, he could see you clearly. Fear; clouding your eyes and consuming your lungs as you heaved, choking on the intensity of the emotion itself as your pupils darted between the beige, bloodied teeth on his necklace and a crossbow pointed right at your heart. 

“So, you’re the insect causing me all this trouble?” the man mused; legs crossed upon a desk as he eyed you. “I should’ve known.” 

“Should’ve known what? You know nothing about me.”  

“You’re a girl.” 

“Sexist, much.” 

He chuckled. 

“Far from it. My father, however, was quite the traditionalist. He would’ve done much worse by now.” 

There was a heavy silence as you swiped at your bottom lip. Much to your dismay, blood had begun to dry, and you were left with a salty, scratchy throat. Liquid, some of any kind, would’ve been appreciated, but you knew all too well that Kraven wasn’t one for showing mercy. Like all the villains you’d encountered, you’d had a push-pull relationship with the Hunter since the very beginning. He created a plan; you foiled it, sometimes you’d get your ass beat but the ending was almost always the same – with you safe from harm's way, and a bloodthirsty ego chipped away, but momentarily put to rest. 

On this occasion you’d slipped up, your Spidey-senses failing you and placing you right into harm's way, shipped into the back of a van and somehow escorted to a somewhat uncharacteristically lavish mansion.  

You'd always found Kraven to be a man of contradictions; whether he realised it or not. He was the best and worst of both worlds, a hunter with all the grit of someone who’d been fighting their entire life as a poverty-stricken rogue, and yet you’d come to learn that he was a Russian aristocrat, hence his rather extensive knowledge and unrelenting desire for control. Still, nothing took away from the fact that he was a brute, not even his strikingly good looks. 

“Just shoot me and be over it,” You continued, watching as he lowered his feet from atop the desk and strolled over to you.  “You didn’t need to drag me all the way here.” 

He looked even bigger than usual, but perhaps it was because you were perched uncomfortably on a chair, arms bound behind you as you craned your neck to look up at him. Your mind couldn’t - no, didn’t - want to fathom what he was thinking of you from this angle. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I care nothing about your secret. I just wanted to look you in the eye.” He mused, rummaging through his back pockets. Your breath hitched in your throat as he slid a knife from its sheath, finely carved and sharpened and lowered it to his side before pacing around you, stopping as his firm torso pressed up against the tip of your neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, you braced for your neck to be split open, only to be released from your bounds.  

Instinctively, you went to shoot some webs, hoping you could at least catapult yourself across the room, but he tightly grasped your wrists, steadying your arms in place.  

“I wouldn’t try anything if I were you,” he sneered. “These are antiques.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Get up,” he announced suddenly, almost dragging you to your feet. Hesitantly, you began to shuffle out of the room, overwhelmed by the seemingly endless walls and corridors, all framed in ivory and the finest mahogany. “Keep walking until I tell you to stop.” 

You continued down the hall, opting for a straight line. It seemed to be the correct way as once you passed into the threshold of a room that had a velvet chaise lounges and a dresser, he dropped his hands from their grip on your own, closing the door behind you. Oddly enough, you never heard the click of a latch. 

Without a word, he walked past you to open the drawer, rummaging through the contents. It utterly baffled you why you didn’t feel the urge to protest, or even fight. The entire ordeal was feeling more like a glorified house tour with a side of intimidation rather than a future crime scene. 

Was it because he was handsome? Wild? Filthy rich? Whatever happened to your values? Perhaps Jameson was right.  

Your thoughts were interrupted by the man placing something in the desk, curling his finger to beckon you towards him.  

“See this? This is what keeps me going,”he said, rolling a vial of florescent liquid in his fingertips.  “You and I are more alike than you think.” 

You scoffed, trying to ignore how close he was to you. He had an earthly musk that invaded your senses, sending tingles down your spine… and to your core. 

“I don’t need a drug to do what I do.” 

“Never mind the drug. It’s our blood that makes us strong.” 

You cocked a brow and he ignored your confused look. 

“You know, I’ve always hated spiders…” he began, rubbing his beard in contemplation.  “Too itchy; unpredictable. You never really know where they’re going to show up. If I ever saw one, I used to pop them like a zit.” 

There was a clear disgust in his words and vacant look in his eye that sunk you into a pit of fear for perhaps the first time since regaining your consciousness. You knew that it was just about you (surely), but perhaps a weird extension of your being; something bigger, far more innate than a girl in a spandex spider suit. 

“But then I realised that for their size, they’re deadly. Powerful, even. Recently I’ve wondered what it would look like if I harnessed it myself.” 

You swallowed, suddenly conscious of your dry throat once more. 

“A drop of blood usually does the trick.” 

He tutted. Perhaps you were being too fickle. 

“No, любимец [darling], not that way. I crave something more.” 

Your eyes darted to the lounge. Since when did Spider-Woman lack composure? Kraven’s impenetrable gaze followed your own, and he chuckled knowingly. 

“With your arachnid abilities and my strength, we could create something truly unique. Nature has its ways, you know.” 

“You’re sick,” you replied, your chin held high but your bottom lip wobbled. “I’ll never join you. What you do is immoral.” 

Kraven furrowed his brows. 

“You killed a man, and you talk about morality?” 

“He was a bad man.” 

“He was my brother.” 

The word humanised him a bit. The Chameleon wasn’t your most imposing foe, but he was still a challenge you’d been rather glad to conquer. It was all too often that you’d fallen into the trap of thinking that the world was black and white; good and bad, when occasionally it was grey. Kraven was allowed to grieve his brother, but at the end of the day they were both bad guys. 

Then why did he turn you on so much? 

“You don’t have to resist,” the man grinned, strolling towards you. He stopped, glancing down and reaching a hand up to cup the sides of your face, caressing your cheekbones and sides of your lip with his thumb, threatening to penetrate your mouth. “I’ve never been this close to you before…I can smell you.” 

You were both superhuman, but he had the thirst of a predator. Quite literally. Breath hitched in your throat as he angled his lips to your ear, whispering a few fatal words. 

“Give in, маленький паучок [little spider]. Your body yearns for me.” 

One large hand was wrapped around your neck as he kissed you, his wild beard scratching against your face as his other hand snaked down your suit, down to between your thighs. The latex did nothing to offer you safety, his callouses prodding at your wet slit and beginning to rub in small circles, oh-so internationally slow, making sure he pressed against the hood of your clit. 

He had you as soon as a small moan escaped your lips. It’d been a while since you’d been touched, let a alone by someone who was as well-travelled as The Hunter himself, and every kiss, nibble and squeeze was sending you into a deeper spiral of lust and guilt that you could barely fathom that you’d already made your way to the lounge. 

You pulled away as your calves collided with the frame, lips wet and parted as you glanced up at him – wholly helplessly. His hand remained firm on your face, angling his head as he smirked at your shielded demeanour, a far cry from the flashy superhero you’d been but an hour ago.  

“Kra—“ 

“Don’t call me that,” he said through gritted teeth. “Call me Sergei. I need to hear you say it.” 

The name rolled from your lips as a cry as he bunched the sides of your suit in his hands and tearing it apart, exposing your bare pussy and ass, with strands of fabric shaping your legs like a makeshift garter. He grinned, large hands frantically groping at your thighs and ass, spreading your cheeks apart and exposing your hot core to the cool air. 

“прекрасный.” [Gorgeous] he moaned, swatting at your ass before dipping his fingers inside you, rubbing your folds between his fingers as you coated him in your juices. Grasping your hands around his thick neck, you clung onto what you could as he explored your body, lowering you down onto the smooth velvet. 

It wasn’t long before he straddled you, holding your body down with his pelvis as he removed his jacket, giving you an eyeful of his crafted torso. Unsurprisingly, he had the body of a God, with a prominent v-line and happy trail pointing down to between his legs. Even through his heavy trousers you could make out his bulge, mounded and ready for you. 

You gasped in anticipation, watching as the man withdrew his cock from his briefs; red and girthy, with precum spilling from his tip. Skilfully, he spread your thighs, making sure they were safely by your sides (he’d seen how flexible you were, your ankles touching your ears was nothing) and lifting your lower back slightly off the cushions, pushing into you with a deep sigh. 

At first, his intrusion was a dull ache, but as he began to move his hips against your own you felt utterly fulfilled, moaning and writhing as he wasted no time in daggering your wanting pussy, making sure you felt every inch.  

“Sergei...” you cried, eyes fluttering shut as you flung your head back in pleasure. “Please...” 

“Say it again.” 

Words evaded you. 

The man grinned, flashing his canines as he tightened his grip, compelling him to fuck you harder. The whole ordeal was obscene; New York’s most treasured hero being bent into submission by the villain of the week, a scene so heinous that it was all the more endearing, and with every thrust you knew you wanted him more. Sergei didn’t care whether his combat boots scuffed the fine upholstery, or if his grip on your waist would leave a few bruises – he just wanted to own you. 

He huffed as his heavy balls slammed repeatedly against your crack, beginning to bottom out in you with every hit, so much so that it looked like you were conjoined.

Even through the strain in your legs you could tell you were close, knots in your stomach slowly beginning to unravel as your walls clenched around him, earning a delighted rumble from deep within his chest. 

You knew that he wasn’t one for talk, but you would’ve appreciated the warning that he was about to come. Every guy you’d been with tended to get sloppier, but he grew stronger, the literal animal in him taking over as he began to ramble and curse through gritted teeth in Russian.  

Sergei threw his head back as he held you down, hands pawing your breasts and strands of hair sprawled in a beautiful mess across his face as he came, ropes of hot white cum spilling into your pussy just as you dressed his cock in a silky sheen. Your chests heaved as you desperately tried to come down from your high, glancing down at your messy nether regions as his seed began to seep out of you.  

There was no going back. Nine months began now. 

Would it really be all that bad? 

It all went back to fear, really. In the back of his mind the thought of a spider still troubled Sergei, but at least he’d conquered it. Even if it was temporary. 

FIN. 

[gilverrwrites]

Oops

AN: Answer to an Anon regarding the Batboys reactions to finding their partner (during the early days of their relationship) sleeping with nothing on their lower half, or finding out they're not wearing underwear beneath their comfy bottoms. Gender Neutral!Reader Ft. Jason, Tim, Bruce, & Dick. In that order. No smut, but suggestive content below.

Jason is so dog-tired, too drained to make it back to his own place when he climbs through your window in the middle of the night. Normally he’d text or call ahead to ask if it was okay. But he’s done this a million times, and you’ve always told him that he doesn’t need to ask; he’s always welcome.

He’s already half asleep as he sluggishly kicks off his boots. He doesn’t notice your naked leg hanging out of the covers as he strips down to nothing but his vest and boxers. There’s a half moment of clarity as he stands above your sleeping form where he wonders if he should wake you, if only to alert you to his presence, but you look so peaceful, he doesn’t want to disturb you. He just wants to sleep.

So, he crawls into bed beside you and quickly dozes off. It’s not until hours later, as the sun peeps in between the curtains and he starts to wake that he realises something is off. Somehow, you’ve managed to become entangled during your sleep, which isn’t uncommon. Your back is to his chest, his arm draped around your waist, rough fingers under your oversized shirt and rested on your soft lower stomach. You mumble something dozily, rolling your hips in your sleep and his hands incidentally sink lower, and lower, before they touch something that he should certainly not be touching without permission.

“J-Jason? What’s going on.” You mumble, half-opened eyes staring at him blearily, having been marginally awakened by the ferocity of Jason ripping his hand away from you and jumping out of the bed.

“Nothing! Go back to sleep. I’ll call you later.”

Thanks to the low rise of your joggers, Tim's eyes are already glued to your hips as you lean over him to patch up a wound on his shoulder. It’s late, and quiet. You’re weary after he disturbed you in the middle of the night. He’s still feeling a little woozy from a knock to the head, and the way your lower body sways has him hypnotised, at least until you turn away from him, bending over to find something in your med kit. He’s distracted immediately by the garment label which is hanging out of your waistband at the back.

Without a second thought, he leans over to tuck it back in for you but as his fingers slip below the band you stand, having already started the motion to move back over to him. The sequence of mis-timed events results in your bottoms being pulled just low enough to bare your ass.

Perhaps if he was feeling 100% himself, Tim would have had the graciousness to look even a little bit guilty about it. You doubt it very much though. Instead, he bites his lips, eyes roving the curve of your backside before following the arc of your body right up to your face where he greets you with a lopsided but decisively provocative smile before whispering; “Oopssss.”

“If Punchline hadn’t already done it, I’d smack you upside the head.” You chide, brushing his hand away and pulling your pants back up much to Tim’s disappointment.

“Awh, c’mon. Don’t be like that.” He’s still smiling as you push him back into place so you can continue to see to his injuries. “Was just a happy accident.”   

There's a chill in your bones, one so sudden and biting that it jolts you awake. The first thing you notice is the imposing shadow at the end of your bed. Instinctively you shoot up into a seated position, pushing your body backwards and against your headboard until you start to recognise features of the silhouette before you; the lean shoulders, and stiff posture. The glaringly blankness of his chiselled lower face, and the emblem on his chest.

"Bru- Batman?" You exclaim irritated but relieved. “You scared me!”

Your sort-of-but-we-haven’t-quite-defined-it-yet-boyfriend doesn’t reply, and you start to worry again, inclining toward him unconsciously until he deliberately clears his throat. Between the mask and the darkness of the room, you’ve no idea what he’d been looking at exactly, but the polite, intentional turn of his head has it dawning on you quickly.

In an instant you snap your legs closed, embarrassed to have been so exposed but one panic fades to another as Bruce begins to rummage in your wardrobe, informing you that he has reason to believe you’re in danger and that he’s taking you to a safe house for your own protection as he hurtles underwear and pair of trousers at you.

Your nerves begin to calm as you sit in the passenger seat of The Batmobile listening carefully as he brings you up to speed with everything that’s happened and how he plans to fix it.

At least until he begins speaking in a voice that feels intentionally a little smoother than his vigilante persona would typically use. “If you’d like, you’re welcome to take your pants back off when we get there.” And again, you can’t tell where he’s looking, but the coy smile on his lips tells you all you need to know about what he’s thinking.  

Dicks always had a habit of hooking his fingers into the waist of your pants to get your attention by pulling you closer or to direct you around busy areas. Even before you’d started dating.

You’d woken before him, but he’d followed not long after, sensing your missing presence from the bed and following the smell of breakfast. It’s the most natural thing in the world for him to grab you by the drawstring band of your joggers as a greeting, planning on pulling you away from the sink so he can accost you with morning-breath-laced kisses.

There is a solid 10-second interval in which he stands, staring at you, stock still and silent as he registers the lack of barrier between his skin and yours, and a further 10 more as he examines your face, searching for signs of distress. When he finds nothing but bashful excitement he grins at you, devilish, sinking his fingers further down so he can graze the space just above your stirring sex before fisting the fabric to pull you closer.

“For me?” He quizzes with a quirked brow as he leans in close to you, still watching every micromovement of your face.

“For comfort.” You correct him with a playful grin, lacing your fingers in his shirt regardless.  

Feigning disappointment, he sucks on his teeth for a second, rolling his eyes and head back before turning to you with a pout. “An’ here I thought I was special.” Despite his ‘dismay’ you feel his free hand decisively press into the small of your back, holding you in place as the other begins to explore beneath your joggers.

More like this | Tip/Commission Me | Likes appreciated but comments and/or reblogs are cherished!

[barbieaemond]

Lykirī

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

WARNINGS: loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), handjob, we ride him bitches, dom/sub tones if you squint

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

Author's note: an early Christmas gift for those who celebrate!! For those who don't, just a regular smutty piece. This was based on a request where wife!reader rides Aemond. Merry Aemondmas :)

MASTERLIST

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @arcielee

"You are to marry the King's second son. Prince Aemond Targaryen."

Those were your father's words. Your sister had looked at you almost with pity and a hint of relief since that fate had befallen you and not her. You had simply nodded, accepting the fate decided by your father, just as thousands of other daughters before and after you would have done.

Your mother had come to comb your hair before going to bed, and without much ado, she had told you what would happen after the wedding, after the banquet.

"All you have to do is try to relax your nerves, and I promise it will be less painful.”

The thought had stuck in your brain until the wedding day. And the aura emanating from the prince didn't help. He was stoic to the point of looking like a statue, his posture rigid as a spindle, and there was something unsettling about him that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand when he took your hand to recite the wedding vows. Fear, but also a foreign giddiness prickling your skin upon feeling his calloused fingers around yours.

The banquet had not helped either. Prince Aegon had behaved like a court jester, drinking to the point of wondering how he could stand upright, poking his brother with cruel jokes about his eye and a whore who had made Aemond a man many years before.

You didn’t know what kind of unpleasant memories your good-brother had just summoned in his brother’s mind. That woman and her cheap perfume, that way it had clung to his skin, to his thoughts for days after his only ever trip to Flea Bottom.

Then the elder Prince had approached you with his breath stinking of Dornish and it was then that Prince Aemond broke his icy silence, standing up abruptly and looking down at you. "Come, wife. It is time for us to retire."

Prince Aegon had clapped his hands as if in front of a hilarious show, saying "Finally some fun! The bedding!"

The entire crowd present at the banquet had escorted you to the prince's chambers. The servants had removed your dress, leaving you in your underskirts; you had unconsciously covered your chest, crossing your arms to hide from the greedy eyes of the men peering in the doorway, Prince Aegon in the front row with yet another cup of wine clutched between his fingers.

Master Mellos invited you to lie down on the bed, and you obeyed, swallowing, while a host of servants shielded you from view as the Maester made his humiliating inspection.

"All is in order, your Graces," the Master informed the Prince and Queen. And that was enough for Aemond to completely slip the iron mask off his face and go straight to the door. "The show is over. Get out."

"Oh, come on, little brother. Let me watch, at least. I could give you some tips."

Aemond had towered over his brother, and from your seat on the bed, you were able to see the eldest brother shrinking by the moment. "This is not some common whore you're speaking of.” Aemond seethed “She is my wife, and you will owe her the respect she deserves. One more lewd word from your mouth, and I will rip your tongue with my bare hands. Am I being clear?”

"Gods, brother, are you already so cunt-struck?"

He never got an answer, only the door being slammed right into his face.

You stood in the middle of the room, torturing your hands as he looked at you from the door. He seemed unsure of what to do, until he cleared his throat and took a few tentative steps in the room.

“You could have some wine, if you wish. It may…help you.” He said, but as he said this, he seemed to regret his own words, given how his mouth twitched as if he had just tasted something sour. Memories could come just like that, sudden and sour.

“You must relax, my prince. Have some wine, maybe? No need to worry, I will take care of you just as a prince deserves to.”

“I’d like to keep my mind clear, my Prince.” You said, keeping your gaze down, hearing his fast and deep sigh. “Fine.” he said, straightening his back as a soldier. After all, wasn’t this just another duty?

It wasn’t just that though. You were his wife now, the future mother of his children. It was his duty and his right to claim you as his own.

“Lay on the bed.”

With your heart pounding in your ears, you did as you were told but when the mattress dipped under his weight, you did not expect to see him with his clothes still on, the eyepatch firmly in its place. More so, you did not expect the harshness of his gestures as he held your waist to turn you around. The air hitched in your throat as your face met the mattress and a strange sorrow gripped your heart. Did he not want to look at you? Did he not like you?

“Try to stay still and it’ll be over shortly.” he said. He was trying to sound reassuring, but his voice came out cold and flat. His fingers latched on your underskirts, hiking them up, filling you with embarrassment as you grow completely exposed beneath him.

Aemond knew what to do. He may not have been as depraved as his brother, but he was still a man. And once in a while, when his hands would not suffice, some maid or servant girl would’ve had to bear, quite keenly on their part, his intimate attentions.

As his hands began to glide on your thighs, you shivered and said “Wait…”

Slowly your head turned to look at him, cheeks red and breath slow and anxious. “Am I not allowed to look at you?”

Your words seemed to stun him for a moment. The mere thought of you wanting to look at him made him realize how wrong he was behaving. You were his wife, not a common whore to bend over and have his moment of bliss. He had even told Aegon. That was not his intention, but there was a gap between how he felt and how he acted, a limb severed by years of pity looks and feelings trapped in his mouth and swallowed.

Almost gently, he made you turn but once you were facing him, he pinned your wrists on the mattress, unable to touch him even if you had gathered enough courage to do it. You tried to brace yourself for what your mother had told you. But she had not told you that he would touch you there, that all your senses would go numb except for that one brand new feeling between your legs. But he seemed enthralled by it just as you, his mouth parting to let out slow puffs of air as you grow wet and swollen against his fingers.

Your breath was labored, coming out in soft pants that made your cheeks purple. More so because he kept circling his deft fingers on your core while looking straight into your eyes, reveling in the way you were answering to his call, in the way he was shaping your need, your desire.

“You never touched yourself, did you?” he asked in a husky voice.

You barely shook your head and his eye glinted with something dark as he brought his face close to yours “Good. I shall be the only one inside you.”

He swallowed your shaky breath with this mouth, kissing you for the very first time, apart from the shy, almost prude peck exchanged after the wedding vows. Your lips moved shyly, trembling with the coiling pressure between your legs. And just when you thought this heat, this delicious aching couldn’t grow more unbearable, he sticked a finger inside you, spilling a loud moan right against his mouth.

One of your wrists twisted in his harsh hold, willing to touch him, to grip on something, but he didn’t let you. “Easy…” he blew on your lips “Relax. It’ll feel good, I promise…”

It surely felt good to him, to feel the tightness of your cunt squeezing his finger. He curled it and you squinted your eyes, choking a gasp that made him smirk proudly against your jaw. “Gods, you’re so tight…” he breathed as he kept rubbing slowly against your walls.

“It’s—it’s too much—“ you cried out with pain and pleasure running together, breathing his scent of ash, leather and a hint of something minty.

“How will you take my cock if you can’t even take my finger?” He whispered with benevolent cruelty, moving his finger faster and deeper.

Certainly your mother had not told you of the obscene wet sounds you would hear, of the uncontrollable moans coming out of your mouth, of his soft growling next to your ear when his breeches became too tight.

He had lined the tip of his hard manhood to your entrance, catching your breath away as tried to still your nerves, but the pain came altogether. You felt like he was cutting you from the inside. Tears filled your eyes, squinting for the painful stretching. You knew he was restraining himself; he didn’t want to hurt you more than he already was. And you almost felt affection for him, most men would not have bothered.

Then he had started to move, you felt that stranger body rubbing over and over against your walls, and finally the pain soothed, but not completely. You could tell he was enjoying it, his ragged breath and faint moans told you so, as well as the curses hissed through his teeth in a language you guessed was Valyrian. And then he had stilled completely, gripping your hips hard and firm while you felt a hot wave pulsing through your core.

The next morning, you could barely sit down for breakfast, and your aunt had looked at you with concern and a hint of amusement in her eyes. She was a veteran at court, a long-time widow, and quite happy to be so. It was her who suggested your betrothal to the Prince.

"How are you feeling, sweet niece?"

"Awful." you said promptly, shifting your weight on the seat.

"Well, this is the kind of anguish all women must go through."

"I thought that was giving birth to another human being."

"Oh Gods, no. That is the ugly part. This is the good one," she said with a sly smile "I suggest you enjoy it as much as you can."

At the time, you didn't really understand what she meant. The first night with the prince had gone...well, you thought. But he certainly enjoyed it more than you.

The second time was better. Your muscles were still sore, but the pain was but a faint discomfort compared to the pleasure you felt for the very first time in your life.

The third time he went down on you, bringing you so close to the edge only to deny your release, with cruel enjoyment on his part, making you whine with shame at the loss of his mouth and tongue on your folds.

The fourth time he bent you down on the breakfast table, all things falling in a mess of cutlery. He had pulled up your skirts and lowered his breeches just enough to thrust in, unraveling a special spot deep inside of you that had you mewling like some primitive beast.

The fifth time he had you writhing in bed, hair stuck to your head with sweat and hands clenching the sheets while he had you peak three times in a row.

It was then that you started to think your aunt was right.

That was indeed the good part.

“Are you afraid?” he asks, with a soft taunt on the tip of his tongue. You drag your eyes away from the gigantic beast before you and almost scoff. That is enough for him to laugh, quietly, but still not quietly enough for you to not notice and wonder at the view.

It’s been merely one moon since you’ve been married to Prince Aemond, and you could count on the fingers of your hand the times you have seen him laugh. It was eerie at first, you feared all the things you heard about the One Eyed Prince were true. That he was cold as stone and just as hard. And he was. But the more you spent time together, the more you were able to make cracks, and let light through.

“I’m equally afraid as any little mortal of right mind would be in front of the largest dragon in the known world, my dear husband.”

His lips stay quirked up, but his eye widens, as it always does when you call him that. He steps close to you, a few of his long strides are enough for him to tower over you, and the ground below your feet shifts.

“Come.” He says, taking your hand, “I promise she won’t eat you.” This time you deliberately glare at him, and he raises an eyebrow. “Do you need some other kind of persuasion to trust me? Perhaps like the one I used this morning?”

The early afternoon sun makes his face almost hurting to watch, or maybe it's just his bold gloating that makes his appearance so exhausting.

“That was not persuasion.” you remark, hiding the tinge of red on your cheeks “It was coercion.”

“Hmm. You didn’t seem so hostile when I made you come twice before breakfast.”

"I was hostile to the chance of the maid assisting with what we were doing."

"The maid should know better than to enter while my wife is undressing."

His eye roams over you just as he had done that morning, hunger clouding it, making your insides shrink. "Perhaps it's best if she knew. Someone must be aware of how cruel my husband is." there's a soft tease in your tone—something you are still learning, but true nonetheless.

He had ripped your nightgown with his bare hands when the maid entered to help you dress. She fled hastily, but you barely spared a glance at her, already lost to the fierce claim of his hand between your legs. He had taken you, twice, and then ordered you to dress, forcing you to have breakfast with the Queen and the Princess with your thighs still sticky with sex, sticky with him.

And he had been there, sitting just in front of you, with a piercing and delighted gaze.

He pulls your hand, and you follow, getting closer to that living relic that is Vhagar, Queen of All Dragons. She raises her monstrous head and looks straight at you with her amber eyes.

It is the first time you step so close to her, and even if you thought about it a lot, your heart is pounding fast, and your breath comes out slow and labored. She's a dreadful wonder.

She flares her nostrils and smells you, making a low rumble which results in a gust of hot wind that ruffles your hair and skirts.

“Lykirī, Vhagar.” Aemond says quietly “Issa ñuha ābrazȳrys. Kostā pāsagon zirȳla.”

You look at him questioningly, and he answers. “I told her you are my wife. And she can trust you.”

You cast a curious look at the dragon and then back at him “Is that all it takes? You tell dragons to trust you, and they resist the urge to turn you into their meal?”

Aemond curves his lips and makes you step closer, standing behind you and guiding your hand on the old green scales. “It takes much more than that.” he whispers in your ear “You have to surrender to them, completely. A dragon is no slave.”

You feel the heat beneath your palm, but it’s not that that makes you swallow; it’s the heat of his breath on your neck, right into your ear, scorching his way into your brain and inflaming every thought.

“What does Lykirī mean?” you ask, and you hate how your voice cracks on the edges.

He smirks because he knows, he always does. But he does not answer. Instead, he pulls your hand again, and you follow, circling the beast until stopping before the intricate ropes that lead to the saddle.

“Aemond, I don’t think—”

“You are my wife and you will ride with me on dragon back.” He said, commanding.

Truthfully, you gladly want to obey; there is just a slight difference between picturing riding a dragon and doing it.

Even the climbing to get in the saddle is a challenge on its own, but he helps you until you firmly seat yourself in it. Aemond sits behind you, and you look around with widened eyes, as if you are looking down from the highest tower ever built, except this is a living one, made of fire and breathing fire.

He leans over you to grab the reins, and you tense, waiting with bathed breath.

“Dohaeras, Vhagar. Soves!”

She lets out a loud screech that makes your ears hurt, but you have no time to even register it because she's already moving. You grip Aemond’s arms and brace yourself against his chest when Vhagar lurches onward and opens her huge wings to take flight.

She goes up and up, above the clouds, and your head is dizzy, with fear, with euphoria, until you are laughing like a child, like you never did in your entire life. Aemond lets go of the reins and laces his arms around you, angling his head to look at you, his silver hair violently ruffled by the wind. “How does it feel, my sweet wife?”

There are no common words to describe it. Now you know why they say Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. No man could claim a dragon or rule the skies.

“I feel like I’m close to the Gods.” you say, and he tightens the hold on you “Dragons do not answer to Gods.” he says, burying his nose in your hair “Where does this leave us?”

You turn your head to look at him, and you feel like you are looking at one of them. And yet he looks like he’s beyond any God.

“Above them. Above the Gods.”

“Hmm.” He croons, breathing your scent through his nose, and then his right hand grabs your skirt and dips underneath, until you feel his cold fingers grazing your skin. “I will make you feel like one.”

He cups your core through your small clothes, and you whimper, gripping his arm harder. He feels your heat through his palm, hotter than Vhagar’s own fire, and he sets the fabric aside to properly touch you. “My sweet wife.” he whispers, sliding a finger between your folds “Always so ready for me.”

“Aemond.” You say, holding your breath, trying to oppose but your voice cracks, and your body with it, already answering to his call. You see clouds before your eyes, but it’s all a blur, all your senses are enslaved by his touch, rubbing lazy circles on your bud. Too slow for your liking, for your need. Your hips arch and buck, chasing his hand for more friction, and he laughs, darkly. “What is it? What do you need, sweet girl? Tell me.”

He takes your chin with his free hand and forces you to turn your head and look at him. His hold is ruthless, but his tone is almost pleading. “Tell me.” he orders and you feel like he’s smothering you, sweeping away all the air from your lungs. “I-I need more…”

“More of what?” he asks, stopping altogether. “Show me.”

You look him in the eye and swallow, heat inflaming your cheeks, but there’s no place for shame, not here. It is just a faint ghost passing through you, and then it’s gone. Your hand pulls the gown up, and you place it on his, like a feather. “Here.” You breathe on his mouth “Inside.”

The howling wind does nothing to muffle his growl, and then he’s kissing you, harshly, teeth clashing and biting your lips as he accepts your plea, sliding a finger inside of you.

A strangled moan escapes you, and he swallows it, darting his tongue in every corner of your mouth. He releases your chin only to grab your leg to further open them and then he adds a second finger, moving them deftly until reaching that special spot. Your head falls back on his shoulder, gasping loudly, digging your nails into his hand.

Your breath is ragged and fast, and you uselessly try to stifle moan after moan even if there are only the skies to hear.

“Don’t.” he says grazing your lobe with his teeth “I want to hear you. I want you to scream for me.”

Your mind goes blank, as does all your restraint. You feel the tide coming to crash you, hips moving on their own accord, chasing and chasing. And then you’re drowning in it, mouth falling open and flesh and bones clenching and trembling.

He grunts softly when your nails scratch his skin and his fingers slip out, glistening; he raises them to his lips and tastes every drop of you. Still panting, he takes your chin once more with his sticky fingers and licks your lips, so you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your head is still dizzy when Vhagar lands in a clearing in the King’s Wood, but this has nothing to do with altitude. Your limbs are heavy when he helps you dismount, your legs buckle. There is a tautness knotting your bones, itching your fingertips.

You wish to touch him, because you have never, not as a wife would touch her husband, not as he has done with you.

It is only a moon and yet he has taken you almost every night and every day. He has touched you everywhere, he has molded you to his liking, and you let him do it with giddiness, undoing yourself like clay in his hands. He had put his mouth on you, and you have discovered he particularly enjoyed it, because he has done that at the most inopportune times, even in some dark corner of the corridors.

And you wondered if you could do the same with him—not because you have to, but because you want to. You want to claim him just as he claims you, relentlessly.

And he really is. He is relentless, he doesn't give you the time to wander with your hands, to discover, to touch. Fire burns him quickly and you are ashes before you realise you are burning with him.

“I didn’t know my wife had claws.” He says at one point, while you are going back to the Keep.

You wake from your thoughts and turn, watching him raise his hand to show the red marks on the back of his hand, and the sight makes you almost proud—proud to have left a mark of you on him. But you want more, and he wants more. You know it; it takes a brief look at his breeches to know that he wants more.

You dart your eyes around, but there's no one. So, you stop. Trying to gather all the boldness you never had, you step closer to him and take his hand in yours. Your eyes look up slowly, glinting with uncertainty and bravery. "Then let me soothe your pain, husband."

Aemond’s eye widens, and the air around you turn heavy, forcing you to open your mouth to breathe. You take one more step and bring the back of his hand to your lips, kissing it gently while your eyes stay fixed on his face. The other hand goes tentatively to his chest and then slides down, and for once, just once, he’s the one answering your call. His eye darkens and his lips part when your hands bashfully grab the laces of his breeches.

But you should have known better. Targaryens and their desires. Doomed to take whatever they want, whenever they want, answering neither Gods nor men.

You barely blink and he grabs you by the wrists and forces you to the ground. Cold grass and bushes stinging your back make you gasp, but Aemond is already on you, watching you like a century-long thirsted man who takes a glimpse of a water spring, as if you could evaporate from his sight at any moment.

“Aemond, please.” you beg “let me—“

But his tongue is in your mouth, hot and scorching you alive. Your eyes flutter shut, and he hikes your skirts up, taking hold of your hips. You feel his bulge against you, hard and ready, and you can do nothing else than wait, pinned down like prey, all bravery a distant memory.

Suddenly he lowers himself down, lifting your skirts with haste until you’re completely bare half down. “No—Aemond, please I want to—”

“You want what?” he asks with a wolfish grin “Deny me your sweet taste? Iksā ñuhon, ābrazȳrys.” He said that already, you know what it means. You are mine.

“You belong to me. And this…” he swears placing your legs on his shoulders while looking at your aching core as a man who found the greatest treasure in the world. “This belongs to me as well.”

He runs his tongue up and down your wet folds, humming with delight as he tastes you and sees you squirm, arching your back on the stingy bushes. You moan loudly when he slowly swirls his tongue, not able to keep track of your hips starting  to move on their own, thrusting into his mouth and the sight of you like this, makes him even wilder, pushing him to open his mouth and put it entirely on your cunt, sucking harshly until anything before your eyes becomes blurred.

Your legs on his shoulders begin to shake and curl, caging him further against you, but just when you are about to come straight into his mouth, he pulls back. A weak sob leaves your mouth as your hips keep bucking against nothing and he smirks at that, untangling your legs from his shoulders, running his tongue over his lips, to taste what's left of you on him. You look at him through dazed eyes and a tinge of annoyance for the denied release. “What?” he has the boldness to ask with a sly smirk “Did you not enjoy it?” he runs his thumb on his glistening chin and swiftly licks it. "Hmm. I most certainly did."

“Aemond, please.” you claw desperately at his shoulders and forearms, forcing him to lie on you, feel something that could soothe the aching between your legs. He seems keen to grant you this mercy, molding his crotch against you so you can feel how hard and desperate he is.

“Please.” you beg in a thin voice.

“Speak it plainly, my love. I want to hear it from your pretty mouth.”

You look at him straight in the eye and what you say next is not a request nor a plea. Your mother would be ashamed of you, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You are not begging. You are demanding. “Fuck me.”

He doesn’t need more than a few moments to get his cock out of his breeches, and not a moment later he’s pushing inside of you, your back arching on the bushes and your throat fighting for breath. He groans and starts a relentless pace, lifting his weight from you just enough for him to look at his cock going in and out, the sight only pushing him to thrust harder and harder. “Look at you.” he croons, sweet and rough “You were born to take me, to be mine.”

Your face twists with pleasure, teeth biting your lower lip while he takes you higher and higher, higher than any sky a dragon could ever take you.

He soon becomes messy and sloppy, cursing under his breath, but you can barely hear him. Your mind is sluggish and everything comes muffled: him, the birds chirping on some tree, your wet flesh slapping against his in the lewdest and most blessed way.

He curses some more, and then he’s spilling inside you, his arched mouth opening and his eye closing like a man absolved.

And yet, he does not stop. He has not claimed enough.

“Māzis, dōna ābrazȳrys. Come for me.”

Your hand clutches something on the ground, something with thorns that pierces your skin with pain, but you can’t even feel that, because you are falling, legs trembling around him, and heart stopping for an endless moment of pure breathtaking bliss.

“Gevie.” he coos with his lips on yours, falling with his body on you, still clenching and pulsing around him. He stays right where he is, nesting inside of you, and now it is the only chance you have been granted to touch him. You put an arm around his shoulders, catching your breath, and look at the skies above, thinking you are indeed above them.

It was easy to explain the dirt and grass stains on your dress. It was a little less easy to explain the twigs in your ruffled hair when you and Aemond returned to the Keep only to meet the Queen Mother along one of the corridors. Alicent merely smiled at you with a tight smile and did not spare from giving a look full of daggers to her son.

"Seven Hells" you mutter when you go back to your rooms and catch a glimpse of the mess you are in the mirror.

Aemond stays on the threshold to close the door and grins, or rather, gloats.

You step out of your muddy shoes and start to pull the laces of your dress.

"What are you doing?" he asks, and you playfully glare at him. "Am I allowed to take a bath now? Or do you want me to go around all sullied? I fear there are no believable excuses for the state I’m in."

"You can tell them the truth." he says, walking to you and replacing your hands with his to help you pull the intricate laces.

You smile softly with your back turned before raising an eyebrow, asking "Which is?"

He keeps his eye focused on the dress, a slight furrow in his brow, and stoically serious, he says "That your husband fucked you in the King's Wood."

"I could tell the maid. I'm sure she won't be stunned after what she saw this morning."

He makes you turn so you can look at him, and the sight before you makes your heart sing. His eye roams on your face softly, a rare sight on him, always stoic, always sharp, like all the angles composing this beautiful sculpture of black glass.

You always thought of marriage as a strategic deal for men, and a way for women to prove their value to the world, giving those same men sons and daughters. But you care for him. And he cares for you. That look on his face is enough for you to know that he cares for you, not merely as a brood mare.

“Gevie.” he says, quietly, and he touches your cheek, softly, making you wonder how those same hands can be so delicate and yet so merciless at the same time.

“What does it mean?” you ask, even if you are sure he will not answer. You observed that when he speaks in High Valyrian he does it almost to himself, as if to protect something he does not wish the others to know.

But this time, he meets your eyes and lowers his hand. “Beautiful.”

You look at him with your heart pounding in your throat, and then you stand up on your toes, crashing your mouth against his, almost catching him by surprise. But he is all too deft at turning the game on his side, and a few seconds later, his hands are gripping your hips and his tongue is licking the roof of your mouth.

When the door suddenly opens, you pull back, spotting the same maid from that morning who, this time, can do nothing but suffer the Prince's wrath.

"Can't you just fuck off for once?!"

You hold back a laugh against his chest and the poor maid flees in a hurry. But when he pulls you to him, tilting his head to pick up where he left off, you step back and say, "I'm afraid the Queen has requested your presence. You should go, my dear husband. I promise that by tonight I will be completely clean."

"Tonight?" he asks, raising his eyebrow. "What is happening tonight?"

You shrug your shoulders and hold back a smile. "Innocence doesn't suit you, my Prince."

"Neither does you."

"I'm afraid this is your fault. You are sullying my soul as well as...everything else."

"You won't be of the same mind when you have my child growing in your womb," and he smirks, looking at you as if he's taking a sacred oath, and then walks away.

You finally manage to take a bath and change clothes, and then you go to visit your aunt. She spends most of her time alone, sipping tea in the gardens, partly because she can't stand the other court ladies, partly because the court ladies can't stand her. Truthfully, you cannot blame them, your aunt speaks plainly—too plainly at times.

You sit down with her for tea, which you end up swallowing like salt, because your aunt takes it with a whole squeezed lemon, and no sugar.

"I saw you with your husband earlier. I may be too old for new fashion but mud on your skirt and twigs in your hair seem a bit too brazen, even for me."

You stifle a smile, recalling what happened. If only she knew he was brazen enough to have you utterly undone on dragon back, thousands of feet up.

Your eyes go distant while you fumble with some tablecloth threads, but your Aunt stares at you piercely, and grabbing her cup of tea she says "I love that look on you."

"What?"

She sips the sour liquid and puts the cup down. "That look. The I'm in love look."

"I am not!" you counter, cheeks going red.

"Of course you are. I've watched you two. I dare say he's falling way faster than you."

You look at her puzzled. Many things have changed in a moon. And you are sure you are utterly infatuated with him. But you did not know what to think of what he actually feels for you, if he even feels something. You know he cares for you, you know he loves spending time with you. You know he's passionate, possessive, almost soft at rare times. But in love? That seems too soon to consider, or to hope for.

"It is too soon to talk about love."

"In fact, I did not, my sweet niece. Falling in love and love are beasts of different species. Why do you think we say "falling"? You can't stop from falling. To love a person is an entirely different matter. Love is a choice."

You let those words sink but you prefer not to question your heart right now. There is a reason you have come here to talk to your aunt, even if you don't know how to address the matter without melting from embarrassment.

But in the end, who could you ask for advice? Your squeamish maids? The Queen Mother? Definitely not.

"Listen, I...I wanted to ask you something..." you start "It is uhm...a matter of somewhat intimate nature."

"Ah, my favourites." your aunt says, beaming "I am all ears."

You shift uncomfortably in your chair and swallow another sip of that dreadful tea "My mother...she explained to me what would happen between husband and wife to...consummate the marriage. But she didn't tell me...well, everything else."

Your Aunt is quick to raise her eyebrow "I gathered that your marriage had been consummated by now. Thoroughly."

"Y-yes, of course. But I...discovered...that there are other ways for a husband to please his wife...and I was wondering if...if I could…do those same things to please him."

Your aunt looks utterly puzzled for a long moment, and then, almost stunned, she says "Oh Seven Hells, child. You are telling me you never sucked your husband off?"

A few court ladies walking near turned their heads, going white as sheets, while you, on the contrary, take a nice purple shade.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, prissies. We all did it eventually." she dismisses them, waving a lazy hand, and looks back at you. "You should do it, if you wish. Men love it. Your uncle used to ask—"

"I don't want to hear that, auntie, I'm begging you." you say squinting your eyes.

"Listen to me, child. Men love to think they rule everything, everywhere. But it is not always like that. And if you want to rule your husband's heart, you must rule in his bed first."

That evening, Aemond wanted nothing more than to lock himself in his room with his wife and forget all the hateful political talk he had had to endure at dinner.

You had not attended, and that had bothered him. Never would he have thought of marriage as anything more than a duty, yet there he was, wondering where you were, who you were with, and why you weren't in his rooms when he set foot in there.

"Where is my wife?" he asks the maid, and she keeps her eyes glued to the floor, saying "The princess spent the evening in the library, your Grace. She told me that she would be—"

"I am here," you say, appearing behind the young maid.

You see his chest sag as if a weight is leaving him, and he casts an icy glance at the poor maid "Out."

He is rarely kind to servants, but you can tell by his tense shoulders that something is wrong.

"Aemond, what is the matter?" you ask as soon as the door closes, walking up to him with a hand behind your back.

"Where were you? Why weren't you at dinner?"

"I was in the library."

"For four hours?"

"It was a tough read—"

He grabs your arm, gripping hour wrist harshly, and you flinch. "Aemond, I swear to you.” you say watching his eye on fire and a sneer twisting his mouth “You can ask Maester Mellos." 

Suddenly he lets you go, and looks down, closing his eye for a moment. But he doesn't apologize, he never does, and not because he is a Prince. It's just the way he is. He doesn't apologize, he doesn't say thank you, he doesn't say please.

"Aemond, what's going on?"

"I don't want to talk about it now. In fact, never. Not here."

You watch him carefully, and you nod as he moves to pour wine into a cup. You watch him gobble it up greedily, which is unlike him. So, you get close and move your hand from behind your back and say, "Anyway, I wasn't lying. I really spent four hours in the library...trying to decipher this."

You show him an old book, and the title catches his eye, cup held in midair. "Tales of the Dragonlords?" he asks frowning. "This is in High Valyrian."

"It is." you confirm as you move closer, and you steal his cup before saying, "Would you read it to me?" and you take a sip, of wine and courage.

He watches the liquid flow down your throat and then accepts the invitation, taking the book—the one he has read so many times he can recite it by heart. He opens it to the first page, but you say "No. Page 72."

There is a slight imperative tone in your tone of voice, and it thrills him, given how his eye glints under the candlelight. He drops it on the table, looking at you from head to toe, and says, "I'll read it to you later, sweet wife."

He steps closer but you back away saying, "Fine, then. I'll tell you what I understood so you can correct me or not." and at the same moment your own hands go up on your corset and you start pulling on the laces.

The gesture catches his eye like a moth to a flame and he stays silent as you pull all the laces and then slip off your dress, remaining in your underskirt. His gaze roams over you slowly, and with a soft smirk, he decides to play the game.

“Page 72, you said. How Dragonlords claimed Dragons.”

“Yes.”

"And why did it capture your interest? Do you wish to do it? Do you wish to claim a dragon?"

"I wish to conquer, not claim."

He comes closer and looks at you, breathing through his nose, restraining, always restraining, and then he's raising his hand to reach a lock of your hair falling on your shoulder, but you stop him, air as heavy as moss.

"The Valyrian sages say a dragonlord must surrender himself completely to the dragon. But it works both ways. The dragon must submit his will to their rider."

He looks at you without blinking, and you take his arms, guiding him closer until you turn and push him lightly on the bed. He sits and you slowly climb on his lap, knees caging his hips, heart is pounding in your throat like a hammer. You hear him taking a swift breath and pride pools in your bones because for once you have caught him off guard.

You can feel his crotch hardening by the moment, but the look on his face is not one of hunger or lust. It is pure and blessed devotion.

You wonder at the view, and your eyes roam on his face until...

"Can I take it off?"

There's no need to say what. His face goes hard as stone, eye looking away with discomfort, with shame.

"Please, Aemond." you whisper. "I want to see all of you. I want you to bare yourself to me as I did to you."

"It is not pleasant."

"I don't want pleasantness. I want you."

He stares at you for an eternal moment and then he caves.

A flash of sparkling blue catches you completely and you can do nothing but watch with lips parted, while he keeps his eye down.

You wrap an arm around his shoulders and lean your head against his to breathe one single word in his ear. "Gevie."

His arms are all around you, holding you so tight you might gasp for air. Instead you are smiling, breathing through his long silver hair. You are not sure if you aunt is right, if love is indeed a choice. You can't bring yourself to care because you are doing it already.

And then he's kissing you, seizing your tongue with his in a fierce consuming way. He slightly hikes up your hips, and his hand tries to slide between your legs, but you lace your fingers around his wrist, breaking the kiss with panted breath.

"No." you whisper, and he looks at you almost questioningly, mouth open and chest heaving.

"Lykirī."

His eye widens and you smile, secretly. "I know what it means now."

He smirks at this and does not miss the chance to be the ever diligent scholar. "But you said it wrong. The R is hard."

“Lykirī.” You say again, following his lesson, and in the same moment your hand leaves his wrist and goes down to his breeches. He dips his chin to look at it, at your hands unsure, and he too looks unsure.

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to.” You say, and your voice comes out firm and clear. “Please, Aemond. Let me…let me touch you.”

He realizes now that in all the times you have been lying together, you never managed to lay a hand on him. He likes to keep people at distance. Too many wrong hands have been on him. The Maesters’, inspecting, debating, healing without healing. That whore, taking what it was not hers to take, not yet.

But he wants you to touch him. He has dreamed of it, in any way a man could dream of a woman’s touch.

He looks at you for a moment, chest rising slowly, and then, without taking his eye off you, he pulls the laces of his breeches and guides your hand around his cock. You look down, exhaling a long breath at feeling his hard and hot flesh already pulsing.

He knows you don’t know how to do it, so his hands guide you at first, going slowly up and down, and the air comes out of his mouth slowly and labored. You look up at him, his eye is pitch black, lid growing heavy with pleasure, and your core clenches, desire pools in your belly and flows down.

He must hear the call of your body, because he releases your hand, still stroking him, and goes right between your legs. You gasp loudly, and he hums, delight dripping from his voice just as you are dripping on his fingers. He starts to pump his fingers and you can do nothing but moan, clutching his shoulders with your free hand, the other still around his cock, but the act is growing lazy, your mind can’t focus properly on what you are supposed to do.

“Listen.” he orders you, fingers moving faster and faster, and you do listen. Your soaked flesh coming undone at his scorching touch. “Who else has you like this?”

But this is a question he’s asking himself. Because no one else will ever have him bare like this.

“You. Just you.” you say hoarsely, eyes closing and hips rocking on their own accord.

“And who am I?” he whispers just as hoarsely, and yet his voice is like a whip on all your senses.

“My husband.” you cry, feeling the wave ready to drown you “Ñuha zaldrīzes.” My dragon.

You cannot care less about how you said it, because then your mouth falls open, nails digging into his shoulder while your trembling hips keep riding his fingers, clenching them like a vice.

Your head falls onward, leaning against his forehead, and you try to catch your breath. You watch his wet fingers go straight into his mouth while he looks at you, humming with pleasure. “You look so pretty like this.” he says with the ghost of a smile on his lips “I should fuck you in Throne Room with the whole court watching, so they know how pretty you are when you come for me.”

You laugh with your cheeks flushing, and he slides an arm around you, and you know he wants to pin you down on the bed and fuck you until you are muffling nonsense in the pillow. But this is not his game. This is yours, and even if you don’t know how to play, you will win.

“No.” you say, climbing down from his lap, and he looks at you with hunger and a tinge of thrilling curiosity. “It is my turn to claim.” You say with all the bravery you possess.

Not a moment later, you are going down on your knees.

Another small victory, because his eye widens as he had never done before, and you can see that this, the sight of you on your knees before him, is something he has been craving for, even dreamed of it.

His breathing is slow, and you are not even touching him.

You place yourself between his knees and you lean closer and closer, anxiety twisting your insides, but you want to do this. “Lykirī, nuha zaldrīzes. Surrender.” you take him into your hand, tugging slowly, and your lips linger on the tip, heart pounding in your ears and eyes fixed on him. “Lykirī.” You say one last time and then you are swallowing him.

He hisses loudly and his lips part, hands clutching the covers until his knuckles go white. He’s like burning metal inside your mouth—hot and hard. At first, you just taste him, running your tongue over the head, and he’s cursing under his breath. His hands twitch on the covers, restraining and restraining, but there’s no need. You take his hand while looking at him and you release it from your mouth to say “Teach me.”

It’s like you have just poured fire on more fire. His eye goes wild, he takes hold of your head and starts to guide you again, making your mouth engulf him once more and deep down to the base and then up to the tip again, filling the room with a wet gagging sound. You get the gist of what you’re supposed to do, so your head starts going up and down and up and down, and he actually moans for you, head falling back for just a moment before looking back, he can’t help but watch as you fiercely claim him.

You watch his chest heaving fast and your jaw is starting to hurt but you don't care, you are too absorbed by the view before you. You are too thrilled by the fact that, for once, you have made him speechless.

He's always so bold in the bedroom, so cruel in deciding when and how to give pleasure, and now he's utterly speechless. He can only curse without breath, and gasp and groan.

“Kelītīs.” he manages to say at one point, voice all husky and cracking. You don’t know that word, and you have no time to ask because in a blink, he’s slamming you onto the bed and he’s hiking up your skirt, but you get on your elbows pushing him on his back and climbing on him.

“I’m not done, valzȳrys.” you say feeling his hard length inflaming your core, so you lay your hips on it as firmly as possible. “I claimed, but I did not conquer.”

“You are fucking torturing me.” he points out, bucking against you.

“Conquests could last for centuries, dear husband. You above all should know that.”

“All I know now is that I need to fuck you.” he says placing both hands on the sheets to pull himself up.

“No, I will.” you promise, rocking your hips once more “This is my conquest, not yours.”

You keep rubbing your drenched core on his length until a sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, and he's so hard he's leaking from the tip. "You are twisted, wife." he says with a dazed tone and you smile even if you can't take it anymore, but you rock some more, saying "I'm a quick study. And I'm learning from the best."

Finally, when you are so wet you are dripping on him, you raise just enough to slide his cock inside of you.

You gasp together and you brace on his shoulders to start moving. You both know you are not going to last long, so you start rocking your hips slowly, taking him to the hilt until you struggle for air.

“Move…” he orders but you just take the opposite road, slowing your hips in a delicious torturing way. “Do you know what else the Sages said? A rider must know their mount, feel their heat below them.”

But Aemond does not have a single drop of blood in his head right now to give you an answer, let alone play your game; he's just fire that burns and burns and burns and just like the Sages said, you can feel his heat, burning below and inside you. He grips your hips and starts to thrust inside you like the wild beast you are supposedly claiming, until you are moaning so loud your throat hurts.

“Yes—” he growls as you bounce on him “Just like that—you’re gripping me so well—fuck"

You both turn sloppy, a mess of sweaty limbs and teeth biting, clutching at each other with bruising grips, pulling at the roots of his hair when you’re about to fall from the highest sky.

"Come on, my sweet girl. Let go for me." he breathes into your mouth, forcing you to move even faster "Let go fro your dragon. Seal your conquest." And you do.

He follows right after, spilling inside while digging his teeth into your neck like fangs on a prey, muffling his loud groaning.

And you are smiling like a fool, a lovestruck fool, but most of all, a conqueror. 

Thank you so much for reading!! 💞💞