#but you DON'T have to take the day off if you're doing it because you're trying to get laid (and/or married). they're different things kono

[prael]

Day 12: Three Shades of Sin

Le Sserafim Kazuha & Yunjin & TripleS Xinyu

words: 11,736 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All that promise of something more.

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

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

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

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

"Depends on the night."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, I guess that explains it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's an obvious line of questioning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, your voice quiet, soft.

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow. You blink.

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

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

"And your girlfriend?"

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shut up," you murmur, leaning closer.

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

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

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

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

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

"So demanding," you hum.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Both your heads swivel.

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

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

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

“Xinyu?” you sputter. “What’re you-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" says Kazuha.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wanna ride his face?"

Xinyu is grinning like a lunatic, gorgeous and predatory.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oops," she laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Faster than Kazuha?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sounds a little cheesy," you quip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She grins at you. "Right now."

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

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

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

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

"Why's that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Got an idea," you whisper.

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

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

"Beautiful," she says.

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

"Me too," Xinyu chimes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I do."

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

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

There it goes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You did always say—"

"I did."

"And, honestly, there's no better—"

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

[mecha-changeling]

I've done most of these in my current project.

Gold is worthless in Quiet Space, as is everything except time itself. Access to space and automation of labor kind of kill the concept of scarcity of goods entirely and well, that's it for economics as we know it. The Terran Protectorate's closest thing to a currency is a literal credit system that entitles you to X hours of the empire's industrial capacity.

I mean, time is fleeting...

Its a stellar Empire. Only one clock is 24 hour and it's Earth's. The odds of another planet having the same rotational speed is basically 0.

Again since most places in my setting are not on Earth and therefore axial tilts are different... and also most megastructures and space habs don't have seasons at all...

I've got a planet that rains diamonds. Okay sure I'm just borrowing it from reality but people can go there and do things.

Most planets have more than 1 moon, turns out.

One of the human Clann's homeorlds is a gas giant. It has rings. Several planets have orbital ring habitats, but I don't think that's what you meant.

I have this, but the world is uninhabitable without bleeding edge shield technology.

I've got the star roads. They're invisible, does that count? TLDR; they're a FTL system that pushes craft in them faster than light by using a spinoff of gravitational drive technology to sort of ripp off mass effect but instead of sling shots it's based on the US highway system.

The Runi use wood for some of their jewelry.

The Thymrai don't use anything for wedding band type signifiers of marriage. They use their words "We're one." or "I have my mate." and if you don't respect that they'll probably stab you because you're calling them a liar and that's fighting words in their culture.

The Glorin always make a new name from select syllables from both prior names when they wed. They're also nano-hiveminds with each individual having 3 bodies, so most of their scocial things are odd.

I have several robotic species which genuinely would not be able to grock the idea of bastardry. "But... they manufactured you. You are their creation. Circumstances are irrelevant."

Most of my aliens do not use binary sexes. Many of the monosex species don't have a concept of gender at all because WHY WOULD THEY?

The Glorin again. They discount other gods as gods because they know they're just extradimentional entities that live in hyperspace. Their god does not live in hyperspace and seems supernatural to other gods. She also dosn't do the normal god things, she shows up like your cool aunt coming back to town and will do things like make your whole species immune to cancer and call it a "bug fix".

Again, the Glorin's god. She's very lovecraftian in appearance unless she specifically takes on a humanoid form for whatever reason (but she'll complain the entire time about how painful it is to "scrunch up like this")

Given designer organisms are a thing for Terrans, I've got this one. Because many of them are reskined other critters! (I may work on this one later today)

Plot? You assume I worldbuild to tell a narrative? Lol! I'm that wierdo who worldbuilds as their main hobby and sometimes you get a story out of it because I got bored.

I've got this one. What? This is a science-fantasy setting. Not sci-fi. TLDR; you can get a journal that will tell you everything friends that have willingly touched the journal did yesterday. It resets every time you sleep and fills you in on the previous day with every reset. This is, in fact, communication. Its just not real time or intentional. Yes this thing can end friendships, but its popular with Terrans because Terran society is about authenticity in 4269 and if your best friend actually thinks you're lame you want to know so you can terminate the friendship and find someone else (also their whole family would shame them as being inauthentic is as big of a social taboo as incest is today).

Books don't exist anymore. All information you want is either a direct download to your brain, or a VR experience. So... Yeah I've got this covered. Its not even a "well I love old things, so I still read books!" type of deal. If you read a book someone would look at you with the same incredulity that you would look at someone trying to light their bong by rubbing two sticks together. You'd probably also alert Central to a mental health crisis.

Many species communicate by psionic or digital telepathy. But sign langauge dosn't exist outside of millitary applications anymore. Not because "screw deaf/mute people!" but because genetic engineering has eliminated those conditions entirly. No one is born with physical disadvantages anymore. And even if they were, they'd be able to have them removed for free any time after they turn 16 since medical technology can reshape your body howeaver you please and has hit the "IRL Korean MMO character creator" point of "no further development necessary". (Yes that is a cornerstone of Terran culture. Part of that "be authentic" deal is your expected to live in a body that is "you" rather than whatever you were born as.)

Most of my alien species are not omnivores.

Small fantasy worldbuilding elements you might want to think about:

A currency that isn’t gold-standard/having gold be as valuable as tin

A currency that runs entirely on a perishable resource, like cocoa beans

A clock that isn’t 24-hours

More or less than four seasons/seasons other than the ones we know

Fantastical weather patterns like irregular cloud formations, iridescent rain

Multiple moons/no moon

Planetary rings

A northern lights effect, but near the equator

Roads that aren’t brown or grey/black, like San Juan’s blue bricks

Jewelry beyond precious gems and metals

Marriage signifiers other than wedding bands

The husband taking the wife's name / newlyweds inventing a new surname upon marriage

No concept of virginity or bastardry

More than 2 genders/no concept of gender

Monotheism, but not creationism

Gods that don’t look like people

Domesticated pets that aren’t re-skinned dogs and cats

Some normalized supernatural element that has nothing to do with the plot

Magical communication that isn’t Fantasy Zoom

“Books” that aren’t bound or scrolls

A nonverbal means of communicating, like sign language

A race of people who are obligate carnivores/ vegetarians/ vegans/ pescatarians (not religious, biological imperative)

I’ve done about half of these myself in one WIP or another and a little detail here or there goes a long way in reminding the audience that this isn’t Kansas anymore.

[cinnawonbabe]

ATTENTION, PLEASE!

pairings: professor!heeseung x student fem!reader

warnings: teacher x student relationship, forbidden affairs, smut, oral, both receiving, anal play, praise and spankings, legal age gap

overview: y/n was just like any other college girl, crushing on the young and attractive literature professor at the university she attended. one day she’s asked to come back after class and things get a little steamy. who knew being a teacher’s pet was fun?

taglist 🏷️: @nayeoniiz @mheretoreadff @deobitifull @riribelle @jakeswifez @yohanabanana @fkarchve @1013club @rizz00 @kpopjackie @isagistar @wheretheheckis-ssaki @freaky-enhamadswriter @manuosorioh

SORRY IF YOU ASKED FOR A TAG AND DIDN’T GET IT. I COULDN’T TAG MOST BECAUSE YOUR ACCOUNT WAS NOT POPPING UP FOR ME. PLEASE ENJOY! IF THIS DOES WELL AND GET 400 NOTES, I’LL POST A PART TWO!!

it was the first day back from spring break and to say y/n was excited was an understatement. she was overjoyed to see her friends again. while she was getting ready for her first class of the day, literature, and finishing the last touches to her makeup, her friend winter called. y/n answered, putting the phone on speaker so she could multitask talking and finishing getting herself ready.

"girl where are you? class is about to start," winter whisper-yelled through the phone. y/n checked the time, seeing that she was in fact behind schedule.

"fuck, i'm gonna be late," she said, rushing to put her shoes on. after making sure her uniform was neat, she grabbed her bag and phone before running out the door.

"and who are you trying to look cute for?" winter joked with a laugh upon y/n switching the call over to a facetime.

"no one. i just felt the need to dress up today. is the professor there?" she answered while speed walking over to the building her class was held in.

"no. they haven't arrived yet, so you're lucky for once," winter said with a laugh. "hurry though, i saved you a spot," she added and y/n hummed in response as she approached the building.

she made her way inside, picking up her pace so she wouldn't be that late, but ultimately made it to class.

"fucking finally. you're here," winter laughed, taking her bag off the seat next to her for y/n to sit in. "still no professor?" y/n asked and winter shrugged not knowing herself.

you know, after 15 minutes, if a teacher hasn't arrived to class after the set time has passed, class is canceled?" one male student in the back stated.

y/n turned back to see it was one of the football players. most students got to talking with excitement as it was getting close to that 15 minute mark while others were upset that they didn't get to see the professor today, y/n was one of the students who was pretty bummed out.

just when some students were packing up their supplies, the classroom door opened up.

professor lee heeseung rushed in class. "sorry for the wait guys. i was in an important staff meeting about the fair we're having for the homecoming events next week and we kind of got carried away." he said in between breaths.

he took off his blazer and set it down on the podium that was situated in the front of the room. he rolled up his sleeves. "anyone else feeling a bit hot or is that just me?" he asked, chuckling to himself.

all the girls, including y/n, couldn't help but stare at him. watching him intently.

he has to know what he's doing. he just knows how attractive he is. y/n thought to herself.

"no it's hot in here sir. me and my friends think the air conditioning unit has stopped working." one female student stated.

heeseung nodded his head in acknowledgement, "oh i see. i'll have to make a complaint about that later. let me write that down so i don't forget." he said walking over to his desk situated in the corner of the room.

he pulled out a sticky notepad from one of his drawers and grabbed a pen from the cuphold on the desk and scribbled a mental note to himself there.

"okay, considering i was way behind my schedule. i'm going to give you all a break and just let you either stay here to make up work or you can just leave. it's completely up to you all." heeseung said, looking around the classroom after he placed the notepad back on his desk.

most students didn't hesitate to collect their things and bid heeseung goodbye or thank him for his kindness.

of course he smiled and bid those goodbye before turning his attention back to the few students that did decide to stay. which consisted of a two male students, one being a literature major and the other that just so happened to be asleep and the rest we girls that just wanted an excuse to stare at the professor.

"assuming that you all are here for help and to catch up on work so feel free to ask me any questions, okay?" he said once more before heading back to his desk.

y/n watched his backside as he headed to his desk and wondered what his back muscles looked like under his dress shirt. once he sat down he looked back towards the class, catching y/n stare. she imma looked down in embarrassment and busied herself with her studies, not catching the little smirk that made his way on his face.

y/n felt movement beside her and looked over to see her seatmate fixing herself up before calling out to the professor. "professor lee? i need help on one of the older assignments you gave. can you give me a but of assistance with it?" y/n heard her ask.

he nodded and signaled for her to come to his desk and so she did. getting up from her seat, swaying her hips purposely in the process.

she bent over his desk, showing her cleavage to him as she placed her paper down for 'help'.

that's usually how things goes. most girls go out there way to get his attention but from all the things y/n has seen, it doesn't seem to work. he wasn't phased by it and just gave her the help she needed before he sent her back to her seat.

another girl failed. y/n of course hasn't. in fact, she never tried to because she was too scared and too shy to even hold a conversation or even ask him for help but that never stopped him from trying to talk to her.

he had taken an interest in calling on her sometimes for questions she never volunteers herself from.

usually that would end up with her stuttering to answer it or having her frozen from being put on the spot.

after a while of sitting in a somewhat silent classroom, heeseung cleared his throat, gaining everyone's attention. "attention everyone class is just about over and my next class will be here soon." he stated, looking at his wristwatch.

everyone packed up their things and headed out of the class. y/n was just about to leave before she was stopped by heeseung's voice suddenly calling out to her.

y/n stopped where she was near the classroom door, turning to him as he sat at his desk. "yes, professor lee?" she asked. he motioned for her to come to him, waving his hand in a signaling gesture. she was hesitant at first, she wasn't sure if she should or not. she swallowed her own pride and made her way over to him.

"so i wanted to talk to you to see if you'd like to help me later with gathering things for the art and theatre club. they'll be doing most of the creative work and i promised the directors that i'll head to the storage area in the left wing and get the supplies they needed. i can't do it myself, so would you like to help a poor old man like me?" he asked with pleading eyes.

y/n was a bit speechless as to why he chose her out of all people. he wants me to help him? she thought to herself. there was no way out of all the girls in this class, he chose her. she stood there unresponsive for a bit, lost in her own thoughts. it began to worry him a little bit from her sudden quietness. "it's okay if you don't want to i can always just ask-" he couldn't finish his sentence as y/n interrupted him with a slightly raised voice. "no!"

she realized the tone and volume of her voice and felt hot from the embarrassment. she didn’t notice the change in his demeanor, a slight smirk appearing on his face knowing his plan was working.

"uhm i meant no it's okay professor lee, i can help you. i don't mind at all!" she stated a bit too eagerly.

she mentally cursed at herself because of it but nonetheless, heeseung didn't seem to mind. "great!! just meet me back here around 7pm, okay?" he smiled softly, causing y/n’s heart to flutter. he definitely knows the effect he has on her.

she nodded her head in agreement before flashing him a small smile in return. “yes sir,” she retorted before walking out the classroom door. she was lost in her thoughts once again, geeking over the fact that he wanted alone time with her. this was truly a dream come true.

her thoughts soon interrupted by her best friend winter spooking her, “hey!” winter yelled a little bit as she approached her. y/n grabbed her chest as she calmed herself down. “my bad, didn’t mean to scare you,” winter joked before bursting out into a fit of giggles, earning a slap on the arm from her friend. “that’s not funny win,” y/n stated, rolling her eyes playfully as she walked off with winter following close behind her. “so what was that all about?” she asked, jumping in her face as she interrogated her. y/n gently pushed her back, smiling wide as the scene replayed in her mind. even though it just happened moments prior to this conversation, she couldn’t help but reminisce about how he chose her. winter nudged her, bringing her back to reality. “soooo are you going to tell me why hot stuff over there held you back?” she questioned again but y/n only giggled in response, causing her bestie to groan at in annoyance. “its nothing really, he just wants me to help him with something for theatre class and i told him i would,” she replied honestly.

winter stared at her intensely, looking for any glimmer of doubt. she was trying to see if she was lying to her or not. y/n stared back at her clueless as to why her best friend was seemingly trying to intimidate her for some reason. is she jealous? she thought. ultimately, winter shrugged it off. i guess she was being truthful. “well good luck and make sure you use a condom, i’m not ready to be an auntie just yet,” she laughed, nudging her friend. y/n’s eyes widened upon hearing those words leave her mouth. before she could smack her friend, winter took off running, satisfied with the reaction she got from her bestie. y/n followed shortly behind, yelling out threats to her friend as she did so.

__________________________

time seemed to have moved on so fast. it was already 7pm and y/n was making her way back to professor heeseung’s classroom. i hope this doesn’t look suspicious. she was having second thoughts. maybe this was a bad idea. she didn’t want to get caught up in something that wasn’t true, even though she wished it was. she didn’t want people to think she was having a secret affair with her teacher, but then again she didn’t actually mind it at all. she longed for him to caress her ever so gently. she wanted to feel his lips against her own but who didn’t? every girl on campus wanted a piece of him but can you blame them? he’s in his late twenties teaching hormonal nineteen and twenty year olds. a lot of his students were fresh out of highschool so seeing a young professor was like winning the lottery.

eventually she made it towards his classroom door, peering inside. it was dark and the only form of light was coming from the hallway where she stood. she scanned the room as best as she could but there was no sign of him. maybe he had forgotten. as she was about to walk away she ran face first into something or someone. she looked up and was face to face with heeseung himself. oh god. she thought. a light blush painted her face as she realized how close they were so she took a few steps back. “sorry, i should’ve been paying more attention to where i was going,” she apologized, her eyes averting her vision everywhere but his.

the view was astonishing to him. their slight height difference boosted his ego. it empowered him. he knew exactly what he what he was doing. y/n was timid and kept to herself. she wasn’t like the other girls he taught.

everyday a female student would force themselves onto him any chance he got. he was used to all the attention he gotten. he may not have shown it but he did enjoy it. so it was weird that y/n never seemed to try. he knew she found him attractive but she never seem to give him the time of day. so he started making moves. calling on her during class even though she never raised her hand, taking initiative to talk to her after class whenever he could because he knew it made her heart race. the innocence she portrayed had drawn her in. it was something he had to obtain, more so, alter it. he wanted her to be his, to hold, to control. that’s exactly how they ended up here. he falsified the ‘i need help’ teacher act. he knew she would fall for it. she was oblivious to it all.

he stared at her for a moment before he spoke, “it’s okay, i was just heading in,” he stated before moving passed her and towards the door. he unlocked it and entered the room, holding the door open for her. “are you joining me still?” he asked tenderly, his voice soft and sweet. it made her heart skip a beat. he was pure gold to her. a soft hearted, well-mannered, absolutely beautiful, educated and elegant man was spending alone time with her. she was head over heels for him.

she hummed in response and followed in right behind him. upon entering he closed the door, discreetly locking it without her noticing and flicked on the lights. “i hope you don’t mind, i have to gather up a few paperwork before we head that way, is that fine?” he asked, making his way towards his desk. he sat down, picking up groups of scattered papers that sat disorganized on his desk. he neated placed them into piles before putting them in his briefcase that he brought with him. y/n walked closer, gazing over at him. she watched

him quietly, fiddling with her fingers as she did so. she couldn’t help but think about what winter said earlier. imagining her professor fucking her on this desk right now.

images of him pounding into her core flushed her mind, making her core leak from the slight horniness that had taken over her. she was so lost in thought she couldn’t hear heeseung calling out to her. he then cleared his throat, finally gaining her attention. she looked up at him, face flustered. she looked absolutely stunning to him; no, beautiful actually. he wanted to ruin her. “you’re one of my best students?” he asked, getting up from his seat and walked over to the front of his desk where he leaned up against it.

she was dumbfounded, “i am?” she asked innocently, her brows furrowed slightly in confusion. heeseung found it adorable, she really didn’t have a clue in the world. “precisely. you’ve never been the type to throw yourself at me. that’s what i like about you,” he continued, making her all flustered again. he truly was enjoying this moment right now. “i’m just not the kind of girl. you’re my teacher not a love interest,” she said truthfully, but he didn’t like that response. he knew better than that and so did she. they both wanted each other more than anything right now.

he began to loosen his tie, then slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt. “is that really how you feel?” he asked, finally pulling his shirt open, revealing his toned abdomen. she stared in awe as she watched him strip in front of her. his shirt sliding off his shoulder and falling to the ground. her eyes trailed down his figure. he was a sight to see that’s for sure. she noticed a tent forming in his pants and she audibly gasped unintentionally. a smirk appeared on his lips. gotcha. he thought.

she didn’t know how to react in this very moment. what was she supposed to do? her very attractive literature teacher was standing shirtless in front of her. that’s every girl on campus dream and yet here she was living it.

“i-i don’t know if this is appropriate professor,” she stuttered, averting her gaze towards the floor. she stared at her sneakers until another pair of shoes came into view. she froze. too scared to look up now knowing how close he was to her. he took his hand and gently tilted her head upward so they were facing each other. she gulped, now meeting eyes with a different side of her professor. and truth be told, she was enjoying every second of it. “i want you more than anything right now,” he said, disregarding her previous statement of whether this was appropriate between the two. he didn’t care. nine years wasn’t that big of an age gap for him. she was nineteen and he was twenty- eight years old. how bad could this be?

he looked her in her eyes, searching for any sign he needed to know what his next move was. there it was, like a flicker. he smiled mischievously, pondering his next move but was surprised by her crashing her lips onto his.

she kissed him hungrily. she couldn’t hold it any longer. she needed him right now.

heeseung snaked his arm around her, grabbing her thighs to signal her to jump. she did, jumping into his embrace and wrapping her legs around his waist as their lips danced in one another.

he carried her to his desking, next faltering this kiss. he sat her on the edge, slipping his tongue in her mouth and explore every crevice of it. she moaned into the kiss, sucking on his tongue as he fiddled with the hem of her shirt. he broke the kiss, pulling her shirt over her head, taking it off and tossing it on the floor.

y/n took that time to catch her breath before he smashed his lips back on to hers. she grabbed his belt loosening it up but before she could pull them down he stopped her, grabbing ahold of her hands, “not so fast baby, lets take it slow.”

she whined, disappointed and desperate. he laughed, placing a small and shirt kiss on her lips. he unclipped her bra, sliding it off her. her breasts we plumped and perky. just how he liked them. he attached his mouth to one breast, sucking and swirling his tongue around her nipple. she bit back a few moans that threatened to slip out. she felt elastic. she knew what they were doing was so wrong but it felt so right. the adrenaline rush she got from this turned her on more. at any given moment they could be caught by anyone, a dean, a security guard, or a fellow student passing by.

she didn’t care at all, it thrilled her actually. fueling her desires even more. she watched and he alternated between each of her breast, leaving love bites all over her chest before proceeding to kiss down to the hem of her skirt, he didn’t care to take those off, he wanted to fuck her in her cute little uniform skirt so he pushed them up to get a better view of her leaking core.

a small chuckle left his lips upon seeing how soaked her panties were just from them kissing. she felt a little embarrassed hearing him laugh and tried to shut her legs but he stopped her from doing so. “don’t hide baby, she’s beautiful. let’s she was she looks like without these in the way,” he reassured her, sliding her pantines to the side to get a better look and her dripping core.

her little cunt made him go crazy. he looked up at her as he licked between her flaps. the warmth of his tongue sent shivers down her spine. he placed small kisses on her clit, edging her on. he wanted to tease her and have her begging for more.

y/n was too impatient and grabbed a fistful of his hair, shoving his face into her leaky cunt, heeseung obliged, giving her what she wanted. he began to eat her out, sucking on her clit and flicking his tongue in a way that made her toes curl. soft moans escape her mouth but she didn’t care. everything felt so good right now. place her legs above his shoulders and started to slowly grind against his face. the pleasure building up as she felt ecstatic. she threw her head back, moaning loudly as she continued to hump his face. he watched her as she got closer to her climax, he took two of his digits and plunged them deep into her pretty little cunt.

a loud gasp was heard from her, feeling his fingers deep inside him. he thrusted them faster, curling them as he hit her sweet spot, earning beautiful moans from y/n. he absolutely loved it. he was marking what was rightfully his. he continued his pace as she grew closer to her climax. he sucked a little harder on her clit, humming, sending vibrations to her core. a familiar pit grew in her stomach.

she was close, so so close and couldn’t contain it any longer. she screamed, forgetting where she was for a moment. her back arching as she squirted into his mouth, causing him to choke a little bit as her juices hit the back of his throat. she rode out her orgasm and she grinded on his face more before falling back onto his desk breathless.

heeseung stood up, dropping his pants to the floor as he looked down at her tired little figure laying on his desk. “we’re not finished yet, angel,” he said, stroking his long and thick member in his hand. she looked up, her eyes widened. there was no way in hell that was going to fit in her. “can daddy have some head baby?” he asked softly and she nodded, getting off his desk and kneeling before him. he cooed, watching her doe eyes stare up at him. he was loving this view of her better. she parted her lips slightly as he began to slap his cock against her face.

“open your mouth wide baby,” he instructed and she obliged, parting her lips more as s

he slid his cock right in. his breath hitched in his throat. the warmth of her mouth engulfing his seven inches did something to him. he let her take control, watching her bob her head on his thickness, taking every inch and girth of his cock. “yes baby. just like that. you’re doing so good for me,” he praised, encouraging her more. she forced herself to deep throat him, gagging as she did. he grunted at the feeling of her throat hugging his member, her gagging made the feeling even better.

her eyes started to brim with tears as his cock hit the back of her throat, drool dripping down her chin.

she took her hand and stroked him while sucking him off. this pleasure alone could’ve made him cum but he was determined to last. he grabbed her by her hair, pulling her off him to keeping him for cumming then and there. she winced from the harsh grip but didn’t stop it. she liked how rough he was getting. it turned her on even more.

he bent down crashing his lips onto hers. he didn’t care that she just had his cock in his mouth, he was a real man like that. kissing her hard and tasting himself on her before he pulled back. “open your fucking mouth!” he exclaimed, and she did without hesitation. he spit in her mouth and she swallowed it so effortlessly. “you like that my nasty little slut?” he asked and she whined in response.

he slipped his cock back into her mouth, fucking her throat hard, she choked out a cry around his member. he didn’t care. he kept fucking her mouth hard and deep, moaning loudly. “fuck just like that baby,” he said once more. he felt his climax coming soon so he pulled right back out. “bend over my desk,” he ordered. she got up slowly, her legs wobbling a bit. he couldn’t help but laugh, “don’t laugh,” she pouted and he cooed at her, he helped her lay her stomach flat onto his desk, her bottom side completely exposed.

he bit his lip at the sight in front of him, rubbing his hands against her firmly plumped ass cheeks. he needed to mark them. he took his big hand and smack down on her ass hard, causing a scream of pain and pleasure from y/n. this was all so new to her. she never knew she’d like being treat like a fuck toy by her hot professor. he brought a side of her she didn’t know she possessed. he lashed at her ass a few times, the classroom echoing from skin slapping and cries coming from y/n. who knew being a teacher's pet could be so fun.

handprints now decorated her ass and he was more that pleased to know that it was because of him. only he could have her like this.

he positioned himself at the entrance of her core, “spread for me baby,” he told her softly. she reached back, grabbing her ass cheeks and spread them open; giving him more access to come right on in. he spat between her crack, using his dick to wipe it down towards her cunt before sliding the tip in. they both moaned out in pleasure upon contact.

she felt every bit of his cock slide into her tight little cunt before he bellowed out. his whole member filled her to the brim. he sat there for a moment, letting her adjust to his size before he began to move. slowly thrusting in and out of her, he pace precise and steady.

the desk began to squeak against the floor as he thrusted harder than before, yelps of pleasure falling from her lips. he was digging into her guts. it felt like his tip was touching the inside of her stomach. her moans encouraging him to go harder. he dugges his cock deeper into her, her ass clapping against his skin. the room filled with the sounds of them fucking. he hoped they wouldn’t get caught but parts of him did. he wanted people to see the whore he was making out of her. he wanted people to know who she belonged to. he felt her wet cunt hug his girth, bringing both of them to their high, he fucked her harder, sliding his thumb in her ass. she screamed once more from the unexpected intrusion. fuck. he thought.

the pleasure was becoming too much for her, she couldn’t handle it any longer. both her holes were filled, a sensation she never knew she needed. “fuck baby i’m gonna cum,” he said and she could only moan out incoherent nonsense in response. that drove him nuts. he picked up his pace, fucking her to her climax. she cried out loud as the pleasure was unbearable and came hard once again.

this drove heeseung to his climax as well, cumming deep and hard into her. they hadn’t worn a condom. his cum filling her deep and oozing out with every little thrust he gave before him finally pulled out. he placed a kiss on her back before watching his thick load spill right out of her cunt. he didn’t care that they didn’t play it safe. to be honest, baby didn’t sound that bad to him. she was stuck with him regardless.

he reached over to the tissue box on his desk and began to clean her up and help her get dressed before dressing himself. she sat back up on his desk, her makeup ruined from all the sweat and tears she indured with getting her brains fuck out.

“you’re mine princess, got it?” he stated, pulling her close. she tiredly hummed in response, too warn out to say a word. a small smile formed on both of their faces before they snuck back out and went their separate ways.

the next day rolled around and y/n was heading to class where she met up with winter. “so how was it?” winter asked, and y/n furrowed her brows. “how was what?” she asked and winter laughed.

“how was it when you sucked his dick?” she joked, causing y/n to freeze. how did she know? did someone see us? she thought. winter nudged her friend. “i’m just joking god. i know nothing happened. you don’t have it in you to do something of that nature,” winter assured her, causing her to relax again. she didn’t know after all. y/n laughed, “i don’t think i could ever do anything like that,” she lied.

their conversation was cut short upon professor heeseung entering the class room. “good morning everyone!” he greeted, and most of them greeted back. him and y/n locked eyes momentarily, causing her to blush and look away before he began today’s lesson.

winter grew a little suspicious of that little encounter but said nothing.

if only she knew what was to come in the near future.

THE END!!

[cutiefulism]

caleb >.< lads

imagining him keeping a lil photo of u in his wallet and on his person at all times.

it's one you would call ugly, too. your mouth is open in a wide smile, eyes crinkled and cheeks flushed with mirth. the sun, as if it was your personal ring light, catches in your eyes, making them glisten even through the wrinkled, worn paper.

caleb hasn't stopped staring at it since he got it.

it captures your essence perfectly (as perfect as a replica can, anyway. it shrivels in comparison to the real thing.), and every morning before he's called in for duty, he presses his lips to it, hoping that, one day, he'll get to find out how you really taste.

but some days, that's not enough. when his subordinates have irked his nerves or when shit has hit the fan during an expedition, that morning kiss to you doesn't calm the frustration, the anger brewing in his gut.

and caleb is just a man.

"mmph, fuck—"

his thumb glides over the little slit of his tip, catching a bead of pre and smearing it down his shaft. his fist continues to pump, that gorgeous, aged photo of you somehow still delicately held in his opposite hand.

you'd be ashamed. disgusted, even.

what you don't know can't hurt you, however, and he has no intentions of letting you know what he does with this picture. not unless you ask.

then he'll have to answer, because who is he to deny his pretty girl?

your lips are so pretty when you smile, but they'd be even prettier wrapped around his cock, tongue swirling and cheeks hollowing as you struggle to take all of him. he'll help you, of course — whisper praises, sink his fingers into your hair and guide your head further, down to the hilt.

then you'd gag, big, sad tears welling up on your waterline, and he'd brush them away with his thumb.

he'd say, "'s okay, princess. you like it, right? 'm not gonna let you get hurt."

a bit of drool escapes the corner of his open mouth as his heavy balls tighten at the imaginary sound of you gagging on his dick.

caleb spits the rest of the saliva that's flooded his mouth onto his cock. it's foolish and likely biologically impossible, but he's sure yours would lubricate better.

your pussy would lubricate better, too, and that thought has caleb squeezing the head and groaning like he's in heat.

he knows these are not the kinds of thoughts a childhood best friend should have, but caleb has never thought normally. he's yearned for you, craved you, even when you forgot him.

this is nothing new to him. hell, he's fantasized with you in the next room over before.

you and those flimsy pajamas, big shirts with tiny shorts that do nothing, absolutely nothing to hide the delicious curve of your ass.

if he chopped off all the fingers and toes of his fleet members and counted them, that still wouldn't be accurate to how many times he's wanted to grope or smack, how many times he's wanted to kiss and bite.

"hah, ngh, c'mon baby..."

caleb slowly drags his hand down all seven inches before he speeds up his pumping again, faster than before, and his metal fingers just barely crinkle the photo.

you'd be so tight. your mouth, your pussy, your ass. all of it. he'd have it all, and you'd take it because you're a good girl, his good girl, and oh, fuck—

his hand is a blur as his balls draw up and his teeth sink into his lips. a long, whiny moan of your name leaves his lips, both a prayer and a curse as ropes of white stain his abs and sheets.

his cock continues to twitch, and he's but a slave to his orgasm as his head lolls back, eyes sliding shut as he strokes himself through it, milking more out of him like he knows you would do.

you're a tease, after all.

it takes him a hot minute to come down, dick jolting faintly before going limp, and caleb swallows down gasps of air.

every orgasm hits harder the longer he's away from you.

he opens one eye, his free, sticky hand fumbling for a handful of tissues. he wipes himself down, throws the soiled tissues into his garbage, and covers it with paper.

his subordinates are nosy little shits.

caleb tucks his dick back into his briefs, and he sighs, eyes wandering back to the photo of you.

his pretty baby.

he brings the yellowed paper to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your face.

"i'll make it back home to you. i swear it."

first fic heh... kinda nervous ^_^;

[kugikizuchi]

"The doctor and his devoted assistant."♡

Warnings: I decided to make it so that the character in our story is not the main character in the game, two different personalities. Our character is a girl. This is done for convenience. Yandere. Partial Stockholm syndrome. Obscenity towards a young female employee. Sexual pressure. Slight compulsion. Excitement games. A vibrator. A weak current through the body. Binding. The girl's submission to the doctor. Murder and brutality. The orange text is Harley's words, the pink text is your words. English is not my native language, I'm sorry for any mistakes!

Volume : 8,2k. Sorry, I overdid it.

Have fun reading! 🐉

"Everything has to be perfect" - these were the words that were on your mind when you laid out Dr. Sawyer's supplies on the table, finally receiving the position of assistant to such an honorable person in the company. In your eyes, he was the epitome of rigor and perfection. His calm and tired voice could overshadow any fears that you might not be hired for this service, but also make you wake up and jump from his harsh cold tone and rare shouts at employees who did not satisfy his desires.

But you tried so hard to become the perfect employee by literally learning the doctor's daily routine. You were willing to do anything to stay in such a prestigious position at a toy manufacturing company. And unfortunately, Harley Sawyer knew about your fanaticism to prove to your family that you are an independent person.

The first few days were hard. It's even too hard.. Your legs are shaking from constantly wearing heels and running around the floors, but I would like to deliver certain reports to different employees. It annoyed you deep down that you looked like a dog on wheels even to yourself, forced to run back and forth just to earn the impossible trust from the owner. But despite the Doctor's indifferent gaze and the sometimes sarcastic smiles of other employees, you just smiled, brushing off all the problems.

What a pity you didn't see how Sawyer liked that you could barely walk on your already aching legs. It might have given him the motivation to finally give you a reward, but he was giving himself the opportunity to delay the moment to the peak of its accomplishment.

And unfortunately or fortunately, the "Peak Height" was reached after almost half a year of your working shift with this young man. You're tired of being the secretary who was always described in jokes and anecdotes as the boss's girlfriend, who was ready to do anything for his pleasure, descending even into the very niche of debauchery. The way you tried to talk to Harley at first, always saying respectfully, "Dr. Sawyer, please, could we talk a little bit about my work shift and my responsibilities?" You always got a calculating look from under the glasses of the man who filled out the next document for you and his slight manic smile that made you twitch a little. "No, Assistant, I don't have time for idle conversations right now if they have nothing to do with the idea of improving the company. And judging by your words and body gestures, you clearly don't want to talk about the happiness of the company, so please take this document and don't try to disappear for more than 10 minutes. It's just another building. You'll get there fast. "he said it over and over again, while you were biting your tongue in your mouth, so as not to spit out the poison. He never even addressed you by your first name, although it was always written on the badge like all employees, but he took it for a special occasion.

And now your patience was over, you were ready to start swearing if you even needed to turn on your artistry, because it's not just your boss who can pretend to be a second person. But as soon as you crossed the threshold of his office, closing the door behind you, the man seemed to be already ready for this meeting and, without looking up, ordered you to close the door in his usual empty manner. You did so, as if out of habit, which was reflected on the doctor's lips with a smile and a relaxed look, to which you flinched slightly, not knowing how you spoiled him with your obedience. As soon as you got closer to the main figure in this room, your body was pressed against the table, your hips were painfully pressed against the table, and your hands were twisted behind your back, while the second man's hand covered your mouth, preventing you from uttering a whisper or a cry of pleading for help, judging by your frightened darting eyes, while you were trapped between the table and the tall figure. "Don't shout or deny it, the more resistance you put up, the more brute force I'll have to use on you, Assistant. " he was talking and you couldn't understand - your legs were shaking so much from fear because of the current situation or from the discharge of excitement, being in such a precarious position that it was not clear whether you would really quit tomorrow, or remain an obedient assistant.. Unfortunately, you both knew the answer from his calm smile and your heavy breathing when the dialogue began, although no one let you out of the man's strange embrace.

And now you have achieved your goal. Isn't that right? Now you didn't have to run around the floors, rub your feet to the knees and whine to your friends about the idiot boss. No, you didn't even have to wear heels now, because they would only get in the way while you were sitting on the elder's hip, watching his well-honed hand movements with a listless look as he drew another monst- ...toy for children. The silhouette of a huge purple-colored cat loomed while you read its name, sometimes disinterestedly swinging its legs dangling from the edge of the chair. Your hips, waist, and hair suffered the most. When someone infuriated the doctor by bringing him to a white knee, you could only stifle a groan, which the elder never liked, while his hands squeezed your hips, moving to your waist and hugging tightly, as if the child did not want to let go of his favorite plush toy at night, which could ensure his safety in the dark. The most unexpected thing was when the sadist's elegant hands found their way to your chest, squeezing it, and someone else's lips stopped right in front of your ear, red with embarrassment and shame." What do you think is worse for those employees who can't even complete their assignments properly, like being fired or getting a lot of work, much more than usual? " he asked you, massaging your chest through the fabric of your shirt, forbidding you to wear any additional fabric in his office in the form of a jacket, vest or dressing gown, " I think it would be better for them to do more work than usual" you say, swallowing, having already learned that your words could often acquire weight and leave employees with torn nerves and a nervous breakdown, or, which was rare, because the company needed employees, to throw out completely poorly working people from the company.

But the worst part, as you convinced yourself, even though you were grinning nervously alone, was remembering the events that happened to you when you unknowingly flirted with some of the staff, leaving Dr. Harley in a bad mood. What can you say? He was furious. You could get used to the compressions that left bruises on your body later. But you couldn't get used to the man's jealousy when you re-entered his office, kicking off your heels and closing the door, as per the usual ritual. You wouldn't have entered this room knowing what was waiting for you. In less than 15 minutes, you were standing on trembling legs, leaning your torso on the table, not completely, but only with your waist and arms, whimpering and slightly swaying your hips from how pleasantly and painfully the elastic and smooth head of the vibrator slid, caressing your femininity, and the body of your boss pressed close did not give you a chance to move. And all I can do is choke on moans and sobs. Sometimes getting slapped on the hips, you twitched, whining, but rather from how at such moments it was pleasant and humiliating for a toy to torment your clitoris, pressing against your labia, but focusing on a lump of nerves, bringing you to tears and removing the vibrating object from your body again when you had a little bit left before climax, and your natural lubricant was already flowing down your legs, staining the floor. "Repeat what a good assistant should do and how he should treat his boss, even if he is not in charge of the company, but in charge of a subordinate" the man whispered threateningly in your ear, hearing with sadistic pleasure your hoarse apologies for allegedly cheating, which you did not allow, but in the perverted mind of the elder, you could do anything wrong, just to untie his hands and give him a reason to torment you and bring you to the edge of ecstasy. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Dr. Sawyer" you apologized in a trembling voice, moaning, rolling your eyes with treacherous pleasure when men's hands squeeze your bare breasts thanks to your removed shirt and bra, which makes you bite your tongue, which you shouldn't have talked much to other people, while your knees are weak from rough play with your nipples. "Please forgive my assistant, I will never again pay so much attention to those who do not deserve anything, but I will give all my attention only to the genius of science and surgery, you, Harley Sawyer" you begged with a hoarse voice, pleasing his ego, rolling your eyes when the toy returned to your clitoris. get the long-awaited orgasm, but the doctor's silence never ended such evenings of punishment and obedience. You could only lie down on the table with your chest, trying to catch your breath, and with excitement and horror you could hear the sound of your fly being unfastened and the almost lightning-fast pressing of the elder's erection with a languid sigh, which meant that for you it was not at all the end of re-education.

"You got what you wanted. You're not overworking anymore" the man said carelessly, holding you in his arms, while Rob ran a pencil over a piece of paper, drawing out different poses for an entity called "Yarnaby." "Yes, it's true and I'm grateful to you for that, but maybe you'll still give me at least a little contact with the staff, I spend time with you from morning until late at night" you timidly answer, looking away and not daring to get up from someone else's lap while his head rests on your shoulder. your shoulder, and your back is pressed against his chest. You hold your breath, hearing that grin right in your ear again, "Is there something you don't like, Y/N? You really wanted to avoid running around platforms and seeing the smirks of some employees. I'm just fulfilling your wish. "he was saying, which made your toes feel a little tight, because even though he fulfilled your wish, he did it in such a sophisticated way and turned everything around to his advantage, as always. Once again, you were left without the opportunity to argue your answer, sighing and continuing to rest in strangely caring and proper hands. You could only bite your cheek and reflect that both you and the young man know about your situation with trying to appear as a higher person in other people's eyes and that Harley would use this against you every time you had at least one thought about leaving him. Only sometimes, glancing at the notes on different sheets left at some time to the owners of this office, you are distracted from dark thoughts. And an intriguing question for you was - who is Riley and why do I need to check her every day on.. bouts of aggression?

You were distraught when you were fired from your job right after Sawyer went missing. You couldn't answer what hurt you more, the fact that he ran away, the fact that you were fired because of him or because of his possible report on you, because if he's not in the workplace, then you shouldn't be either. At least that's what he kept saying when he dragged her into his bed, arguing that if he had a day off, so did you. And it means that you will limp again later in the evening from making love to him. But now. You were broken and confused, returning to the apartment, which was now so lonely without yours.. A lover? You didn't even know what kind of relationship you were in with him before he disappeared. That's all you could say for sure. You've become more attached to him than you planned, wanted, or could have been.. It scared you and made you cry without the affection of your beloved doctor. And his sometimes persistent kisses.

But here. After almost a few years, returning to the factory with your employee, having overcome so many dangers and living creatures that you saw only with children and only with smiles, thinking that they were harmless. You could only realize with horror that all this was an illusion, and judging by the tapes that you listened to with bated breath with your colleague, each of the experiments suffered. And you suffered the same way because of your former boss Sawyer, which made your heart sink into your heels and you were ready to collapse on the floor, not realizing that you had always been so close to a real monster.

And now. While you heard your friend running away from the mechanical bodies, you only screamed faintly into the fabric of your skirt, which was torn off at your bottom and covered your mouth from the way the wires bound your body, tightening the same on your miniature figure, clasping your hands behind your back again, while other bare wires slid over your though and a body covered with clothes, but still sensitive to weak electric shocks. And these blows were imitation kisses, while you stared wide-eyed at the humanoid creature standing above you, not allowing you to move or get up from the table on which you were sitting like a prisoner. Just the way he likes it... You just stared with horror in your eyes at the TV, which displayed a single eye that described all your features and the fact that you had hardly changed in any way over the years. His mechanical hand rests on your chin and with deliberate tenderness presses on it, forcing you to swallow out of habit from the learned signal sign - to be closer to the boss, which you do, leaning towards the figure, not even giving yourself an account of the actions, but only mechanically doing the work itself. "I've been waiting for you for so long, my beloved assistant. You've missed and missed me too much, Y/N, but don't worry. I won't leave you alone anymore. Never. "

[jmtorres]

the idea of this society breaks my head. nothing can get finished. new building construction? why bother? you're knitting something? no you're not, you might as well be Penelope frogging your progress every night.

but also nothing can be meaningfully recorded. scientific data? the day's work is all gone and fuck you if your experiment needed longer than a day to run. in the morning there's no record of what's been going on or how long it's been the same day; is someone trying to keep count? they have to do it by memory.

there's nothing new to read. and for a while it's the most well read populace, because why do 'work', but slowly everyone has eventually read everything and the society shifts to hungrily waiting for new short stories posted online at the end of the day, anything anyone could finish by dark.

You log into work. There's a counter with digits in millions on the website. The work slack is taken up with a discussion about who's reading what and where they got it from. You ask about the second quarter analysis you were supposed to be working on. Half the chat says "not it!" and someone, who's not your direct supervisor or even in your department, DMs you to say, Take the day off. Don't worry about it. Look, your boss is talking about Red Dead Redemption in the work slack, it's fine. What would you do with a day off? Shopping, no, bad idea, don't think about what you need to get done, think about more like your bucket list. Travel, hmm, it's a bit of a free-for-all, yes if you go to the airport you can get a ticket for wherever the pilots feel like flying, they're not really charging much either, the computer system wants them to but, well, somebody figured out how to break ticketing a while back.

Bewildered you ask, why? what is going on?

It's Groundhog Day, says your coworker.

No, it's not, you say, it's September??

I can't do this part, says your coworker, I can't explain it to you, just, work doesn't matter today, do something fun.

And then they log off.

Your boss is indeed talking video games in the main channel. The alerts channel has been disabled. The company CEO just posted a skydiving video, which isn't that out of the ordinary, but in a work channel?

Experimentally, you pull up a news website. There's nothing but a large number posted. Is it--yes, it's the same large number that was on your work's front page.

You don't know what it means.

You don't feel like having fun.

Apparently, you are living in a time loop. Also apparently, you are the only person on Earth who DOESN'T remember the previous iterations. This is the first time you've experienced today; the rest of humanity has been stuck reliving today for years now.

[bunny-jpeg]

sinful sentences (twelve)

mark webber - "tell me exactly what you want."

tags: smut/pwp, porn au, pornstar!mark & reader, daddy kink, age gap (mid-20s/late-40s), dom!mark, sub!reader, filming, aftercare, doggy style, dirty talk/degrading language, intense bdsm (there is a safe-word)

sinful sentences catalogue

"chin up, beautiful." mark's words were in your head as your gae was leveled with the camera in your face. you stuck out your chest a little more and stuck out your bottom lip in a pout.

the audience ate it up. a little starlet in the amateur porn scene with your lover, mark webber. both of you starring in hits such as "bad girl finally meets her match" and "bratty bottom finally gets the daddy she asked for". both played up your size and age differences. you in your mid-twenties and mark pushing fifty. he even let the greys come in a little to make the differences more striking.

younger woman who gets fucked silly by an older man with a dirty talk that would make anyone watching blush. and despite most of your fucking being on camera, mark was proud that you were all his.

he roughly patted your cheek and said, "tell me exactly what you want. tell the lovely people at home too. i'm sure they want to know what whorish thing you want tonight." he made a small 'tsk' noise and pinched your cheek, "answer me, baby. hate to put you over my knee tonight. still bruised from last night."

your ass was still marked purple, with mark's hand print seen at a certain light. he made quite the mess of you the night prior. your sex was intense, mark liked to bite you, mark you. the time he wore his name across your chest and had you bounce on his cock till he finished inside of you. he liked to bind you, gag you, blindfold you. he had a collection of toys that your gummy little pussy was quite familiar with.

it was filth, the kind of porn that would make the deepest pervert blush. mark held your face and made you look at the camera, his thumb trailed across your bottom lip before he sank it into your plush mouth. and you obeyed and sucked on it like you would his cock.

"dirty little thing, aren't ya? so cute. look at you. daddy's little stupid whore. i'm glad i got you out of whatever small town hell you came from, probably would've been the town slut by now. legs more open than a mcdonalds." he chuckled lightly. he took his thumb out and petted your hair roughly, "but instead you're allowed to be a total whore in my home. was worried an old man like me wouldn't be able to keep up with you. but i think i make it work. don't you think?"

and you nodded, there was heavy heat in your cheeks while you remained on your knees. your hands in your lap, obscuring your pussy from the cold gaze of the camera. you were certain your audience could identify you from your pussy alone.

"good girl. good girl." mark purred, "keep daddy happy, huh? trained you just right. if you tried to fuck another man you'd be lost. but you don't want to run off do you?" he pulled his hand away to grope and the hard-on in his jeans, "daddy won't let that happen. you'd be a lost little puppy out on the streets. have to put up posters to bring you home."

you felt your core tense, you were soaked and it excited you. his words were like extra spicy honey, it burned as it soaked into your mind. it left your stomach in knots as you anticipated for what was to come next. you'd take it eagerly.

"pretty thing, huh? look at you. always perfect for the cameras. i bet so many perverts online jerk off to you every day. wishing they were in my spot right now. too bad for them, because only i get to ruin you, right?"

you nodded and replied, "yes, daddy."

"good girl, not use the last of that brain of yours to get on the bed before i fuck it out of you. and don't you dare touch yourself. that's my property." his voice was low and radiated through you. it made you only more wet. your slick dampened your inner thighs as you got up and headed to the bedroom.

the video stopped and mark only resumed it now on a tripod with the both of you stark naked. the viewer could see the crudely writing on your upper thigh, "belongs to mark. don't touch." a possessive warning in sharpie. you knelt on the bed facing the camera. a full display of your slutty body.

mark was behind you, his large hands on your form. he felt you up while he kissed your neck. occasionally he glanced at the camera and would smirk at it. he loved to record and post videos of you two fucking like animals, but he still had a throb of jealousy in his soul that was only cured by plunging his cock deep inside of you.

"tell the people at home how it feels. i bet they'd love to reach through the screen and feel how soft you are. cute little thing aren't you? obedient like a bitch. a fucking dog." he purred.

you swallowed, "daddy."

"shh, shh. don't talk. good girls don't talk, they listen. no need to run that mouth of yours or else i might find something better to fill it with. keep you gagging on something to shut you up." he said as he played with your nipples which made you squeeze your thighs together, "because you're a whore, right? sell videos of me fucking you. disgusting."

you whimpered, "please, daddy. i am a good girl."

mark chuckled lowly, "not too sure about that. you like being degraded. you like being marked up, you love being used by me. should write 'cum dump' on you next time. show everyone how much of a slut you are. owned piece of ass." he patted your thigh where the writing was.

you yelped as your face collided with the bed with your bare ass up. it was leveled with his heavy cock, he was thick to the point that you had to be soaked to take him. thankfully tonight he was able to sink into you without any issues.

your pussy like a vice around his cock as he shoved your face into the covers. you let him use your body as he so desired. he rocked up into you and yanked your hair to face the camera.

"give them a show, angel. or else they might turn off." he said as he held onto your head while he fucked up into your sweet little cunt. it was soaked. your dirty kink was that you got off to it being rough. you loved mark's rough hands on your skin as he worked his cock into you.

you whimpered as he fucked you, you tried to keep your eyes open but the pleasure made them flutter closed. mark felt like he was shifting things in your body, bruising your insides in a way that made you shudder.

"take it, fuck. that's right, angel. give our viewers something to get off to. that's all your good for. stupid girl who only thinks about cock and how to get it. must be why i have a collar and a short leash to keep you on."

you panted, your mouth open as you tried to get as much air as you could into your lungs. you held onto the covers and arched your back as he battered your insides. it was intense, the kind of intensity that made your toes curled.

but what made your core throb even more was when mark leaned in to you and said softly, "remember, rose. if it all gets too much, remember our safe word." rose. all that needed to said in order to end the scene. his voice was low enough that the camera didn't pick it up.

you nodded and kept your head up as he fucked you deeply. his cock brushed up against all the right places. it felt like a tight fit as he worked himself against you. it made your brain buzzed from the strong thrusts he moved against you.

"look at yourself, baby. can you see that in the viewfinder? the way you shake when i fuck you. like you were made for this. the entire internet has see your fat tits and your pretty pussy. but none of them will ever taste you. right? because you're mine, you belong to daddy."

"yes." you whimpered.

"say it, angel. c'mon, use those big girl words of yours." he smacked your ass as he pushed your face right into the covers, he held you by the back of your neck as he fucked you feverishly.

you whimpered, not even able to be heard. your voice muffled by the covers. mark already knew the answer, you were his. you belonged to him and only him. he was being generous and sharing with the public every curve, every mole and dimple on your bare skin. he made a mess of you for the camera because he allowed it. he could be quite the giving man.

the pleasure was a buzz in your brain, it was heat in your blood. it made your head spin as you panted pathetically onto the bed. everything washed over you.

"cum for me, baby. i can feel you. you feel good." he purred as he yanked your hair once more, "come on, angel. cum for the camera." his hips worked against you, his cock throbbed inside of your achy cunt as he pulled an orgasm out of you. he heard your sweet noises as you climaxed which only made him move faster.

his cock ached inside of you, he fucked you quickly. he held your face towards the camera and made you that all the viewers were focused on how good he made you feel.

"look at you. internet's favourite whore. my favourite whore." he bounced you up against his cock quickly. he tensed up for a moment as he felt the pleasure swirl in his brain. he gave a few more rough strokes before he finished inside of you.

you moaned once more before the scene ended. you felt distant as pleasure filled your core. you felt mark pull out then work to end the video to edited later.

the porn personas faded away as mark said to you softly, "are you okay, honey?" you looked up at him through bleary eyes and gave him a thumbs up. he ruffled your hair and said, "let's get you cleaned up."

-

"can you get me some more ice cream? this is really good." you stayed curled up with your lover in bed, you were dressed in a fluffy white robe and your hair was wet from a steamy bath. you were both seated up but you had your bare legs across his lap. in your hands was a pint of ice cream.

mark took you gently my the head and kissed the top of your head, "sorry, pumpkin, that's it till we go grocery shopping tomorrow. plus, it's late. i don't want you having a stomach ache."

"but honey." you pouted at him.

he shook his head and took you by the cheeks to kiss you on the lips, "don't wanna hear it, angel. finish up then brush your teeth. if you feel any aches tomorrow, i'll run you a bath."

that was what you liked about mark. no matter how intense the scene was. how much he put you through, he would make sure that you were okay after filming. a good dominant never left his submissive out to dry after a scene.

he could degrade you, smack you, spit on you, ruin you in every way as long as you didn't use the safe word or signal. and then always afterwards he spoiled you. because you may be a raunchy star, but you'd always be mark's good girl. <3

[laambfuzz]

—- lunch munch club. ft schlatt. ᝰ

summary: watching porn late one night when you come across an interesting video. you're taken by surprise when you see the main male star is also the man who's streams you tune into almost daily.

— tags: smut, lunch club!schlatt, munch schlatt, mentions of oral, schlatt does porn (duh), open ending.. so we can expand upon this if we're interested.

authors note: hii! the two ideas i had originally can wait, because the lovely @fanficfox posted something about lc!schlatt doing porn and it struck me with inspo. so! everyone say thank you fox, and i hope you all enjoy! ♡

it's not uncommon for you to have some time to just yourself and the stash of porn videos that pop up on your twitter feed

twitter algorithm knows what to give you these days, which is nice. it saves you the hassle of finding a good account

but perhaps twitter knows you a little too well, when you're recommended a video of a guy eating a girl out

and you're intrigued of course, because who doesn't love that? especially when the camera is on her chest, helping entice you into the experience. as if it were you

the video is already a few seconds in by the time you click on it, and you're introduced to the scene with obscene moans escaping the girl

you can see her thighs tremble around the head in between her thighs, her free hand reaching out to run her fingers through the male's hair

you can hear muffled groans from in between her thighs, and you watch as the head moves back slightly, taking a breath

"god sweetheart, you taste so fuckin' good. could stay down here all night and take my sweet time with you."

that's when a shiver runs through your body, because oh. that sounded like.. and you supposed when you looked at the figure of the male, and the hair..

no. you were being stupid. of course you were. why on earth would schlatt of all people do porn. you know what he's like, he wouldn't

but oh, he would. and when he raises his head from beneath the girl's thighs with his lips glistening with her slick, you're frozen

it's as if your mind has short-circuited, because what the fuck?? you have so many questions; why was schlatt doing porn, why was he not making it subtle, why was he fucking good at it?

you don't have time to focus on your own questions, because your eyes are drawn back to the screen. you watch as his slim, naked body crawls up the bed, getting closer to the camera, licking his lips slowly as he groans

"words can't describe how good that was. need you to taste yourself, baby."

and with that, he's leaning over the camera to lock lips with the girl

immediately you close the tab. your whole being is flushed, and you feel hot inside for many reasons

you felt like you shouldn't have seen that, like you were.. intruding. which was stupid, he put this on the internet, there's nothing private about that

you decided you'd sleep it off. or that maybe this was a bizarre dream you'd wake up from not too long from now. anything but clicking back onto it

and yet only 10 minutes later, you had re-opened the tab

the next evening, schlatt is streaming and you try to watch it like normal. as if last night didn't happen

but you couldn't

now, every time he makes a suggestive joke or comment, you're transported back to last night

when he rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck mid-stream, you remember how he looked doing it in the video, before he crawled towards the camera

when he licks his lips after taking a drink, getting the remnants of whatever liquid he had consumed from them, you can only see him licking the girl's slick off himself

you felt insane, like you couldn't act normal about it

and maybe it was part of the insanity, but it felt like he knew.

maybe you were just psychoanalysing his every move now, but you could've sworn he was never like this before.. he was

you decided to test the waters with a few donations littered throughout the night

when he has ordered food in and was wolfing it down, there were scraps and sauces across his lips

"are you always this messy? i thought you liked to take your time with things."

when he's reviewing a video and he's talking a lot over a particular section

"you ever been told you talk too much, or do people usually like that?"

or, when he's playing a poorly made hide 'n' seek game with fans

"i'm not sure you're as good at hiding things as you may think."

"oops, 'things' autocorrected in."

every time schlatt hears one of your donations come through tts, he feels a shiver run down his back

he knew his little side hustle wasn't exactly locked behind security, it was just.. out there

maybe he was overthinking it, reading too much into your donations for no reason

either way, he's noting down your name on a sticky note on his desk for next stream for.. reasons.

[lila-went-missing]

Hiii, saw you wanted some requests for Sevika and I've had this idea bubbling up for a while. Imagine Vika with a reader that's normally experienced, yk has fucked one or two people before and it's not a sex god, and they're growing insecure about sevika never starting intimacy even after months of dating, so they think it's because they're not as good as the girl's she's been with before. Idk just thought that'd be good

I'm kind of obsessed with this, ngl. This isn't the first smut that I've written but it is the first smut that I've posted on here so feedback is always appreciated. Y'all will never guess... it's not proofread. Again. Enjoy my lovelies! X

Warnings: Smut (obviously), mild angst but nothing too horrible, mentions of body image issues but readers body type isn't specified or described.

Fem reader, of course, with female genitalia.

At first, you didn't think anything of it. She probably just wanted to take things slow with you. You weren't as experienced as her so she probably wanted to take her time.

That made sense for a while.

But now, after eight months together, you haven't had sex once. More importantly, she hasn't initiated it.

Realistically, you know that it's fine. There's plenty of reasons as to why nothing has happened so far. But that voice in the back of your head is doing a fantastic job of convincing you otherwise.

Sevika was kind of a sex symbol before you two got together.

She'd been with countless women, she was a regular at Babbettes. Her name was uttered on the streets like a sacred prayer.

You, on the other hand, have only been with two people: your ex, and a drunken one night stand that was less than satisfactory. So you did have sexual experience, but not nearly as much as her.

Honestly, it's starting to worry you.

Did she not like you? Was she not physically attracted to you? Was there something wrong with your body? Were you not showing enough skin?

Thoughts plagued your mind night and day. You were stuck in constant turmoil. It was impossible to stop your own brain once it got going.

It was taking everything in you to focus on the stove and not burn dinner.

You flinch at the sound of the door closing. Heavy footsteps sound through the house, approaching the kitchen.

Sevikas thick arms wrap around your midsection, her face making home in the side of your neck. For a long time, she doesn't say anything. The only sounds come from the meat sizzling in your pan. Moments like this make it easier to not think about the painful lack of aw sex life between you two.

Her lips purse, pressing small kisses against your skin. She hums against your neck.

"What are you cooking doll?" Her voice is muffled against your flesh but you understand her all the same.

"Spaghetti." You feel her smile.

"My favorite.." She mumbles. You hum a small "Mhm" before focusing back on the seasoned beef and water you're waiting for to boil. Her arms tighten ever so slightly, one hand slipping under your shirt. Her thumb caresses your bare skin.

It should be sweet but it really just drives the nail into the coffin for you.

Your voice comes out before you can stop it.

"Why won't you have sex with me?" You regret it the moment it leaves your mouth.

"I- woah, what? Doll what do you mean?" She honestly sounds baffled.

"Forget I said anything, please. It doesn't matter."

Her hands gently grab your shoulders, turning you around.

"No way. What are you talking about?"

You shake your head. "It's stupid.."

"It's not stupid if it's bothering you." She reassures you.

"It's just, we've been together for eight months, and we practically live together. But we haven't done anything. I know you don't have an issue having sex because half the undercity talks about how good you are and I just don't understand. Is there something wrong with me? Am I not appealing to yo-" Your rant is cut off by her lips. Her hands are holding you like glass, one on your cheek, one curled around your hip.

"There is nothing wrong with you." Her voice comes out as a soft whisper. "I'm sorry I made you feel like there was. I just knew that you don't have as much experience as I do. I didn't want you to feel rushed, or forced."

"Rushed? No, you could never.. I thought you just didn't want me that way." She immediately shakes her head. She kisses you again, more urgently this time.

Her hands grab anywhere they can, pulling you in. They're on your hips, waist, groping your ass.

"I do want you." Then they're picking you up and lifting you on the counter. "Let me show you how much I want you?" All you can do is nod as her lips trail down your neck. Her touch dances over your body, removing your top.

Her mouth follows soon after, sucking dark bruises into the skin on your neck and chest. She takes a nipple in her mouth and swirls her tongue around it. A low whimper leaves your mouth at the new, but not unpleasant, sensation.

Her right hand copies her tongue's motions on the other, pinching and pulling. Your body trembles against the counter with need.

She moves away from your breasts, kissing and licking down your stomach to your navel. Her hands unbutton your pants. She looks up at you as she lowers herself to her knees, silently asking for permission. You nod your head. You don't trust your voice. Your pants are off in seconds and thrown somewhere in the kitchen that you'll worry about later.

Her hand splays across your stomach and gently pushes you to lay against the tile. It's cold against your bare and burning skin, your back arching off of it but she keeps your hips pinned down.

You gasp as her teeth nip at the skin of your thigh. A breathy laugh leaves her.

"Shut up.." You mutter.

"Didn't say anything."

Your eyes roll in fake annoyance but you don't get the chance to reply as the cold air hits your bare cunt. Her thumbs pull your lips apart, admiring the sight before her.

"Fuck doll, you're so wet. All of this for me?" Her voice is husky between your legs and it stirs something delicious in your belly.

"Yes, all for you Sev.." She chuckles. Her teeth take the hem of your panties and drag them down your legs. She kisses your hips and navel, sucking hickies and marking you as hers.

"Please, Vika. Need you.." You whine. You can't bring yourself to care about how desperate you sound. You're sure that you look even more so from her position.

It seems, though, that your prayers have been answered because as soon as the words leave your mouth hers is back on you. This time it's between your legs.

She licks a long stripe up your pussy before stopping to suck your clit into her mouth. A loud moan reverberates from your chest as you lean your head back into the counter. Her tongue kitten licks at the bud before suckling on it like shes trying to nurse herself.

You've had people eat you out before but never this well. You don't think it could get better than this.

She moves down, opting to fuck you with her tongue instead. You definitely understand the appeal now. You've given yourself plenty of orgasms but this is the fastest one has risen before.

She feels it in the way you clench around her tongue and moves back to your clit. Her fingers fill up the now empty space, fucking into you in a gently but rough way only she could manage.

She's eating you like a woman starved and with the lack of sex the two of you have had she may as well be. If you didn't know better you might think this is her last meal.

Gasps and whimpers leave your mouth in a desperate way you can't stop.

"Fuck Sev.. ngh~ m'gonna cum, please.."

She smirks against you once more, speeding up her ministrations.

"Come on my tongue baby, make a mess on me." Her voice is muffled against you cunt, vibrations travel through your clit with her words.

You last maybe thirty seconds longer, hand tangled in her hair, before releasing over her tongue.

She laps you up, milking you for all that you're worth. She's never tasted anything more delicious. Her mouth doesn't let up until your whimpering from the overstimulation and pushing her head away.

She looks you in the eye as she sucks her fingers clean before kissing back up your body. Her lips lock onto yours and you can still taste yourself on her tongue. It makes your head spin in a way you've never felt before.

When you come back to earth, her hand is running through your hair.

"I'm sorry I made you believe that I didn't want to do that." She mumbles. "But now I may need it to be a daily thing." You giggle at her words.

"It's okay. I wouldn't mind honestly." She helps you sit up, a large hand cupping your cheek. "You didn't get to cum.." You whisper as you lean in closer.

"Don't worry about me, I'll get my fill later." The look on her face tells you that this isn't over. "I'm going to change out of these clothes. You just worry about dinner okay?" She slips your panties back on along with your shirt.

You nod, sliding off the counter. You wince at the mess you made but she's already wiping it up. Her lips meet your temple as she mutters a low, "I love you."

"I love you more." She shakes her head, chuckling before walking back to her room. You feel much better now, and you really can't wait for what she meant by "later".

[red-phantom-0]

HELP YOURSELF

summary : in a family filled with intriguing members of their own right , duke has a particular interest in a certain vigilante in the family that everyone seems to overlook . this interest leads to the family to spiral into obsession .

When he was first introduce to the Wayne family , Duke was overwhelmed , everyone was so talented , so special and unique and came from such - complex backgrounds , it was hard to ever find something or anyone dull in the family . Duke had his highs with the family - from patrol , to movie nights every Saturday , food fights on Monday mornings because of course Jason had to rile up Damian but he had his lows - particularly the fact that he was the only sole meta in the family .

Something so minute shouldn't affect him , I mean come on isn't badass that he's in a family that can accomplish so much with sheer willpower without powers ? Though , it hurts every time he sees Conner teach Jon how to use his super strength without hurting himself in the process . He seethes in envy every time he witnesses it because he swears it ensnares him in a painful grasp - reminding him that he's the bystander in this family and that he's the only odd one out.

He shakes away the chill that runs up his spine and returns his focus back to the scene in front of him , a young woman is desperately trying to yank her purse away from some lacky burglar. ' Easy' Duke thinks to himself as he effortlessly swoops down from the rooftop he is perched on and landed on the thug . " Leave this poor woman alone " Duke commands as he pressed his legs onto the burglar's back. The burglar growls and pushes himself off the floor - practically making the woman scream . Duke immediately goes to jump away and reassess the situation when the burglar spins around inhumanely fast mid air to face the vigilante .

Bewilderment and confusion was all Duke felt but regardless he goes to land a sucker punch to the burglar's mask face when suddenly the burglar takes out a bomb from his inner pocket and throws it at the woman behind them. The woman screams as the bomb makes a beeline towards her and Duke wants to scream in frustration at how utterly stupid she's being and the fact that the burglar has outplayed him.

Suddenly , a figure clad in black with red accents jumps in front of the lady and catches the bomb effortlessly and throws it aside like it was nothing. Duke takes this time to sucker punch the burglar into the floor while he was distracted with the bomb's dentation , causing the man to groan in pain . While Duke is handcuffing the burglar , he eyes the figure in the corner of his eye handing the woman her purse before approaching him.

" Thank you ..... " Duke trails off as he watches the figure properly . He notes that they adorn a black body suit but has a red spider symbol in front near their chest . They adorn black helmet that covers the entirety of their face , only showing the user's dark brown eyes.

"Widow "the figure answers before leaping away from Duke . " Wait ! Who are you , I've never met you before !" exclaims as he extends his hand in attempt to reach out to them . " Just stay safe kid you don't know what you're doing " the figure says , directing a glare at him before they vanish.

That afternoon , Duke returns back to the mansion , he slumps against the kitchen table , the weight of patrolling all day and the situation of meeting a strange entity named ' Widow'. Alfred gently pats him on the back and serves him a plate of snadwhiches.

" I take it that today's patrol was exhausting Master Duke" , Alfred asks him as he begins to wash up wares in the kitchen. " You have no idea , met some weirdo who called me a kid like what the hell " , Duke complains as he takes a bite of the sandwich . " Weirdo ?" Alfred questions as he dries a plate. " Yeah some named Widow " Duke replies . Alfred drops the plate.

He feels every muscle on his body tense at the mention of her name , a name that may have been a bygone memory to many but not to him never him . Duke scrambles out of his chair and approaches Alfred . " Hey are you okay ?" Duke asks as he holds the elderly man by the hands. Alfred tries - he tries to talk but is too shocked to say anything - he fears this is a dream , a cruel dream that god bestowed upon him as a punishment - a reminder of his failure .

"Widow - are you sure they said Widow ?" Alfred asks the boy frantically , panic old eyes watching Duke's intently. Duke stumbles back but answers , " Yeah that's what they said why does it matter ?" . Pin drop silence fills the manor as Alfred registers Duke's words. Alfred crouches to the ground , his hands run along the jargoned edges of the broken plate - the rough feeling grounds him , reminding him that all of this is real .

" It matters because that is your sister young master " Alfred forces out. Silence consumes them again . " What ?" Duke questions as he holds onto Alfred tighter. For the five years he has lived with the Waynes - no one never mentioned a Widow or a sister not ever so why is it now that he finds out that he has a sister and one that he has not heard or known about.

Alfred can feel warm hot tears running down his worn cheeks as nostalgic memories of him making a younger you a hot chocolate in the afternoon as you sit in the same chair as Duke had , coloring whilst simply blabbering about your day. He recalls how every night , he can feel your tiny figure sneaking into his bed to hug him with your stuffed bunny You were practically his daughter .

He also remembers that you weren't particularly liked by the Wayne family , at the time only consisted of himself and Bruce - a younger much fragile Bruce that had no idea how to raise a kid - a kid that was just put into his custody because their parents got too drugged up and k*lled themselves in the living room.

The situation wasn't ideal , Bruce was immature , till learning how to navigate his own feelings , his own anger , his own loss and so were you , a small , fragile thing that didn't quite yet understand why mommy and daddy were being put in a box .

He also remembers that tragic day - the day he lost you - . It was like any ordinary day , he dropped you off at kindergarten and watched you run to your teacher , excitedly showing her a drawing you made. He watches you smile and wave him goodbye as the teacher escorts you to your classroom. Alfred does what he usually does , returns back home and begin his preparations when he receives a call from your teacher . He remembers the dread , the sheer panic , the bone chilling anxiety that consumed him when he picked up that call to hear your teacher utter the words

" two government officials barged in class around recess and they took ( name ) I'm so sorry I tried to stop them - tried to grab the tiny thing but they had her really tight and - and they left "

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"You are." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

To Daryl, you are different, you are special, you are everything. But when his jealousy over a "prank" from your friend leads to a misunderstanding you can't resolve, and an incident the next day that nearly costs you your life, it causes Daryl to have a huge revelation about his feelings for you.

@artsynana: heyy dear!! i was wondering if you could ever write something with some soft jealous daryl x reader at the prison era, btw i love the way you write daryl🥰

A/N: Hi love. First, sorry! I didn't know you had left a request :( but thank you so much for doing it. This is a little short and different :( and a little more dramatic, but I really hope you like it♥ And for your words, thank u again! I think I write Daryl a little bit off the character, but I guess it's because I picture him like that hehe

Daryl Dixon is not a possessive person, never, but he is not made of steel either, that’s why he’s unable to stop jealousy from creeping up on him.

The night is ending inside the prison, the heat of the day floating in the air, but the still warm weather seems to hang over Daryl almost in a suffocating way. As he continues to wait for his dinner, he has a panoramic view of you across the dining room, sitting in the long steel chair, elbows on the table, always accompanied by that pretty boy Sean, with his stupid green eyes and that stupid smile, following you ever since Daryl rescued his group from the governor.

And Daryl hates not being able to hate you for the senseless jealousy that you make him feel now, as he thought he did in the past.

Daryl hated ​​you for being fearless, like the afternoon you showed up to save his ass back in Atlanta, like a force of nature, like a fucking storm–sweeping away the little peace he managed to find at the end of the world, shaking his own with your magnetic presence. But he also hated how your strong gaze could rest, turning you into an angel when he could see the tenderness in your soft smile, and your dreamy eyes when things got a little bit better in that grey world.

The secret of his hate was because of your selfless, wild and free heart, and that fucking dimple that formed on your left cheek, so yeah, he fell hard for that, he fell hard for you. But no one knew about your relationship, everyone blind to those little displays of affection: the casual brush of your hands, the secret smiles, the way his hand rested on the side of your neck before he kissed you.

“You're like… staring much. Don't you think?" Carol chuckles beside him, making Daryl look away from you as he takes his plate. "Damn, pookie, you are not subtle at all."

She continues with the bland jokes; the same ones she’s been making since Carol caught the way Daryl looked at you.

"Shut up." He hisses, turning his attention back to the food.

But Carol is not ready to give up.

"I once read that when a feeling is silenced, bottled up or imprisoned, the eyes, the lover’s gazes scream everything."

Daryl frowns, confused.

"What the hell are ya talkin’ ‘bout?"

She chuckles, crossing her arms.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just saying that maybe you should start making it clear to everyone that (Y/N) is with you."

He clears his throat, but the heat on his cheeks burns more than the sun on that season.

"Ya knew?"

"No. You just told me." Carol turns around towards the pot to serve herself a plate, Daryl narrowing his eyes at her, even if she isn’t looking at him.

"But, uh... like what?" He asks after a few seconds, hoping that Carol will understand the question without him having to spell it out for her.

She shrugs.

“I don’t know. Maybe approach her not only when you two are alone.”

Carol smiles at Daryl, walking away to leave him with the weight of his thoughts.

Daryl Dixon is a strong man, to survive, to protect, but as a boy who grew tall but is still a boy on the inside, he feels lost with the feelings he keeps inside him, not knowing what to do with them. He had had casual encounters in bars, but was too drunk to even remember, to even care about them. But you are different, you are special, you are everything. That’s why, even with his heart hammering in his chest, Daryl walks over to the last table, eyes fixed on your profile, his sometimes noisy mind disappearing the rest as he sets his plate down on the table before sitting down next to you, ignoring the confused look from Sean, who was silent for a second in shock before resuming his story of a past life on his farm with the rest.

“The lake water is cold during that season…” He keeps talking, oblivious to the way you hold your breath when you feel Daryl's fingers on your lower back.

But out of nowhere, his hand begins to seek out the skin beneath, a light touch over the edge of your black t–shirt until he finds the warmth of your flesh. Your back arches slightly beneath his calloused fingers on your skin, but you try to control your body as your dirty thoughts begin to overflow.

The small group is so wrapped up in the funny anecdote that no one notices the way Daryl leans in close.

"Breathe, peach, ‘fore ya pass out."

His words are the jolt back to reality, and you let out a breath as you squint, your hand darting from your lap to his leg, only to pinch his skin over his pants with your fingers. As a reflex, his leg jumps slightly, but Daryl takes the attack with a smirk that is almost imperceptible to the rest of them, but not to you.

"Isn't that right, (Y/N)?" Sean glances in your direction, catching your gaze and a confused expression that silently prompts him to repeat his question. "You told me you dated a guy who looked like me."

Confused, you clear your throat.

“Yeah. Uh, but we separated long before all this...”

Mary nods, a young woman who came with Sean’s group.

“Wow. He must have been really handsome. But did you love him, (Y/N)?”

Your skin feels cold again when Daryl's hand leaves your body, even if your skin feels boiling hot when the attention falls on you like the midday sun in that stifling season. As if someone had put their hand on your throat until it was blocked from air, your uncomfortable laughter comes out muffled, but you don’t answer before changing topics. But it's sad that after a short while, Daryl stands up to go to his own cell, his thoughts run wild about the jealousy he feels about that guy, thinking that there was someone who made you feel something when, for him, you were his first everything.

When dinner time is over and everyone returns to their cells, you find yourself timidly entering Daryl's cell only because his door was still open, but staying close to it. He’s lying on his back, eyes fixed on the arrow in his hands just to keep himself busy.

“Hey. Uh, can we talk?”

“’bout what?”

His voice is flat, not a single emotion in it.

“About what happened in the dining room with Sean.”

 “What ‘bout it?”

You shrug, even if he isn’t looking at you.

“Don’t know exactly, but I think I made you feel uncomfortable.”

Daryl scoffs.

“Ya didn't make me feel anythin’.”

His words form a lump in your throat, completely silencing the truth you were going to tell, just because your own anxious mind tells you that you don't make him feel anything, at all, like never, and that is painful.

“Okay, uh, I don’t want to force you to talk so… I guess I’m gonna go. Oh, we'll leave early tomorrow for the run, by the way.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You sigh, walking away.

But jealousy is an irrational force, but a force of nature that resembles a hurricane, or any destructive phenomenon inside a timid and fearful mind: that’s why when the early morning arrives and the first ray of sun shines on the horizon, Daryl decides to switch places with Glenn, just so he wouldn't be stuck with his thoughts of you in a car for hours.

However, the day grows tedious for him, even in the small details like the wind blowing dust into his face, or the way the walkers keep piling up against the fence, taking the place of the lifeless body when Daryl stabs his knife into their skulls. But before his ocean–blue eyes can see the car returning at a worrying speed, his ears can hear the horn, like a desperate call that makes his heart wake up frantically.

“Someone is hurt.” Carol tells him, a second before they start running towards the main fence.

Maggie and Rick are closer and they open the gates, the car raising tornadoes of dust until it stopped inside the prison. Michonne steps out of the passenger seat as Daryl and Carol arrive to meet her, Bob and Glenn following as she begins to narrate the horror story.

“… and one of those men was behind me, (Y/N) shot him but another stabbed her in the abdomen.”

The back door of the car is open, but like a roller coaster of emotions, Daryl’s heart is so up that it threatens to stop because of the fear, as if it stopped pumping blood to replace it with an infinite void. But he refuses to listen to the death whispering in his ear that you won’t make it as he carries you, arms under your shoulders and knees.

“Call Hershel!” He says, to whoever is faster as Daryl starts waking fast, because, even though he wants to run to catch the seconds that seem to slip away, your body feels as fragile as porcelain.

And it’s crazy, it’s wild the way Herself has to perform a surgery to control the bleeding on the same table where the night before your and his playful fingers had teased each other, minutes before ruining it all with your silence and his jealousy. But when it's all over and the madness has cleared like a thick fog, he finds himself sitting on the edge of your bed, taking in the way your closed eyelids make you look like you're just asleep and not unconscious.

“She will make up, Daryl.” Carol says softly, standing close to him. “It’s late, you should rest.”

He shakes his head.

“Nah. I’m stayin’ here with her. Don’ want her to be alone when she does.”

Carol nods, knowing perfectly nothing will change his mind.

“Okay, Pookie, I will come to check on you both in the morning.”

She kisses his forehead, but Daryl is too absent to notice as she leaves the room. The entire prison falls into a deep sleep, and Daryl can hear the almost imperceptible sound of your breathing fighting against the almost deafening silence of his world, telling him without words that you are there, and that you are not going anywhere. But after a while, Daryl lies down on his right side, still close to the edge of the bed to give you all the space you needed, but able to leave only that small space between his body and yours.

“Fuck… now I know I love ya, peach.” He whispers, shy and scared you can hear him even like that. “That seems to be the only answer to why I almost lost ma shit when I saw ya there… bleedin’ out. Jesus, ya would probably laugh if ya saw me here now scared to death like a damn child.” Daryl tries to laugh, a nervous little laugh that falls to a heavy sigh. “Please, wake up, okay? I promise I’ll be better.”

But since there is no answer from the other end, his words hang in the air for the rest of the night, even after Daryl falls asleep. However, as the sun begins to peek through one of the prison's tall windows one more time, your eyelids open slightly, the world in front of you blurring for an instant, until your scattered senses become one and focus on the pain pounding your abdomen.

But still, you turn your head slightly to the side when your peripheral vision catches a body beside yours, smiling weakly at the image before you. Daryl's hair covers part of his closed eyes, but his slight frown reflects his concern, even if you don't know that.

You raise your arm until your hand touches the skin of his face, soft flesh under your fingers.

“Daryl?” Your voice brings him back easily, walking him up from that terrifying dream as he sits up, his hand cupping the side of your face just to feel that you're actually awake.

"Ya okay, peach, ya okay."

“Am I? Since when I’m here?”

Daryl sighs, but he decides to mask his fear with humor, just because he feels like he can spill all his feelings for you in a single second.

“Jus' a day, but ya took yer sweet time to wake up, woman.”

“Sorry.”

You chuckle shyly, but his gaze turns soft.

“Nah. Don’t be, I’m jus’ so glad ya came back.” Concern allows him to smile slightly, before telling you that he's going to go find Hershel.

The examination lasts a few minutes, until you two are left alone, again.

“Daryl…” One more time, your voice pulls his eyes towards yours the moment he sits back down. “Sean was messing with you. You know? I was going to tell you about it that night before all this, but you didn’t want to listen and I didn’t want to push you to.”

Embarrassed, Daryl lowers his head a little bit, watching you through his long hair.

“M’ sorry, peach. I was jealous of ‘em and I ended up sayin’ the wrong shit again.”

Them.

“Daryl, that’s exactly what I was going to tell you that night. There was never another guy, Sean made up that story to get a reaction out of you because even he can see how much you want to kick his ass every time you see him coming." You chuckle. "Besides, he’s gay.”

Daryl blinks, confused like never in his life.

“He is?”

You nod.

“Yep, really gay, but don’t worry, Sean has a crush on Glenn because you look too intimidating for his like.” You want to laugh, but you can see his own shame sinking his heart heavily, feeling the pain and guilt for letting you go alone, because Daryl is a protector: that is in his nature.

And when things went wrong, that weight fell on his shoulders.

"Sorry, I think I screwed this thing between us."

And in a second and with an overwhelming strength, you can see his eyes becoming teary with all the feelings he has inside him.

"No. You didn't, Daryl, unless you want this to end."

But he shakes his head.

"No. I don' want it to ever end."

You nod softly.

"Good." When your hand catches his, Daryl clings to it, but you don't force him to talk because you know better than anyone that it was difficult for him to express himself. "Now come, lie down and try to sleep. Okay?”

He nods, laying down next to you, too overwhelmed to speak his mind at that very moment, his hand still holding yours even after he falls asleep when his mind can no longer carry the full weight of his thoughts. But while he does, you can't help but smile slightly, because now, awake, you are convinced that his voice saying I love you was not just part of the dream you were having, sweet words you hope you can tell him soon.

[ashen-char]

the altar is her hips 🔞

ship: anora mikheeva (anora) x fem reader

summary: it's finals week but ani convinces you into taking a sexy break with her.

word count: 2700+

notes: i had a strong urge to name this one "this is me swallowing (my pride)" but false god fit better than back to december lmfaooo. student fem reader suggested here, service top reader and ani loving to tell her what to do suggested here <3 thank youuu

You barely register the sound of heels on the linoleum, steadily clicking their way towards you. The library is packed, after all. With exam week coming up, there's more people here than there have been all semester. Everyone who had been pushing back their coursework is now suddenly cramming it in. You hate studying when it's too quiet anyways, you can't focus that way. Your eyes are glued to the textbook in front of you, words blurring together as you try to make sense of the impossibly dense material. The only thing keeping you going is the half-empty energy drink beside you, the chocolates you had instead of a proper dinner, and the distant promise of sleep - whenever that might happen.

Then, a familiar presence slides into the chair next to you. She must have come to visit straight from work, because it's damn near 5am. Ani's chewing some gum, snapping it between her teeth.

"Wow," Anora drawls, propping her chin on one hand as she surveys the mess of notes, highlighters, and sheer academic despair spread out across the table. "This is tragic. When's the last time you slept, baby?"

"Fuck. I don't know. I don't even think I got proper rest yesterday," you admit. You were tossing and turning all night, the only sleep you got being fitful at best. "I was reciting case study names in my head so I don't forget any. With AI bullshit, the uni's cracked down on making all exams closed-book."

"I can tell. Even your eyebags have eyebags." Ani, amused by her own joke, blows a bubble and it snaps. You roll your eyes, but that makes her smile, reaching over and running her thumb across your cheek. "Don't worry, they're designer. My baby's got Prada eyebags, for damn sure."

You hum in acknowledgement. "Yeah, thanks." Barely listening, unfortunately, even though you want to give your girlfriend all your attention. It's for both of you. All your efforts, your good grades, will culminate in a better life for the both of you. That's what you tell yourself when you have to blow off date night for a deadline anyhow.

Ani shifts closer, pulling out her bag. "I could put some BB cream on you at least," she offers.

You turn a page. The paragraphs are blurring together and while you swear you've read this before, it also looks brand new at the same time. You sigh, rubbing your temples, willing the information to stick. When you reach something you didn't remember from your lectures, you jot it down on your lined paper, highlighting the key words. "It’s exam week. I don’t have time to be cute."

"Good thing I’m cute enough for both of us, then." She grins, stretching her legs out so her foot nudges yours under the table. She’s wearing ripped jeans and a cropped hoodie that definitely isn’t hers - it’s probably yours, stolen at some point and now claimed as her own.

"Whisper at least, babe. If you're insistent on talking in the library." You gesture to all the other stressed-out students, your peers in suffering. While various courses have their exams spread out so there are no clashes, the energy of finals is potent in the air.

"Boring." You glance at her, but she’s already plucking one of your highlighters off the table, twirling it between her fingers like she’s contemplating doing something devious with it.

"How long have you been at this?" Anora asks. She picks up the stack of papers from your other classes, flipping absently through your notes and you watch in case she highlights something. "Because I’m gonna guess… too long."

"Since this morning. And all day yesterday."

Anora whistles. "You know, there are laws against self-torture."

You huff a tired laugh. "Not in Professor Raye's class."

She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. "OK, here’s the deal. You take a break. Like, a real fuckin' break. No ‘just one more chapter.’ No ‘let me just finish this section.’ You step away from this table, right now, and I will personally reward you with something better than whatever caffeine-fueled nightmare you’re living," Anora says, poking your metal tumblr that was once filled with iced coffee - probably melted and watered down now.

You narrow your eyes at her. "And what exactly is this reward?"

She smirks, tapping a manicured finger against the table. "Guess you’ll have to find out."

You exhale slowly, staring down at your textbook like it might physically pull you back in if you look too long. But then Anora nudges your chair with her foot again, insistent, and there’s something warm in the way she’s watching you - amused, fond of you, but also knowing. Like she’s seen a hundred people burn themselves out and decided you won’t be one of them.

You sigh, shutting the book. "Fine. Five minutes. But then I'm continuing this in my dorm. And I have to check this book out."

"Ten minutes."

"Seven."

"Nine."

"Eight and a half."

"Deal."

She grins like she’s just won something. It reminds you of the time Anora took you to Coney Island because you said you'd never been. That night was magical, and you two had so much fun taking turns winning each other prizes. That proud-of-herself gleam in her eyes as she presented you with a stuffed tiger. Anora stands and holds out her hand to you, the butterfly charms glued onto her pretty nails seeming to glitter under the cold library lights.

Snapping your textbook shut, you take Ani's hand when she holds hers out for you, with her standing up in a shot and grabbing her purse. "That's my girl," she purrs. "Grab your jacket, sugar. We're going somewhere that'll make you forget all about... whatever boring ass shit you were studying."

When she pulls you up, she doesn’t let go. She leads you out of the quiet, fluorescent-lit library and into the bustling campus streets. The cold air is sharp, but Ani seems unperturbed, skipping slightly as she walks. Her heels click against the pavement, drawing the occasional glance from passing strangers.

"You really think you can make me relax in eight minutes?" you ask, curious about her plan. You'll give her the benefit of not taking travel time into your little deal though.

"Oh, you'll love it. Promise, babe."

xx

Luckily, the location she had in mind was apparently your dorm room. Ani lies back on your bed with its cheap sheets, her long dark hair splayed out around her. The tinsel in it really makes her shine, if the body glitter isn't enough. When she's unbuttoning her jeans, you tease her, "if making me fuck you was the break you had in mind, remember you've still only got eight minutes."

"Eight and a half," she reminds. "Don't rush this. And get your shirt off."

She's wearing a lacy black bra and a matching thong that leaves little to the imagination, her pale skin glowing in the dim light of your room. She looks up at you with hooded brown eyes, biting her plump lower lip as she beckons you closer.

"Get that pretty face between my legs," Ani orders, her breath hitching with anticipation. "And don't you dare stop until I tell you to. Think of it like studying for that exam - except instead of boring old notes, you've got a girl in your bed. Lucky you."

You like when she tells you what to do. How to kiss her, fuck her, lick her. It's a dizzying push-pull of control, where you're the one bringing her to ecstasy but she's the one commanding you to get her there.

"C'mere, baby," she purrs, voice dripping with desperate desire. Her accent slips out when she's not thinking about it, too focused on getting you where she wants you. "I want your mouth on me. Now."

"Yes, ma'am."

Anora spreads her legs, revealing the damp spot clear on her panties. The sight makes your mouth go dry, your heart pounding in your chest. You've seen Ani dance, have felt her body pressed against yours, but this is different. This feels more intimate, more vulnerable. The time limit you've set on this also adds to the thrill.

"Start by kissing up my thighs," Ani instructs, her voice breathy. "Nice and slow. I want to feel those lips of yours."

You obediently lower your head, pressing soft kisses along the inside of her thigh. You can smell her arousal, musky and intoxicating, as you work your way up. Ani shivers beneath your touch, her fingers tangling in your messy hair.

"I like when you tease me, baby."

"Mmm," you hum against her skin. "I know."

"Fuck, just like that," she gasps, guiding you higher with her hands. "Don't stop, baby. Keep going until you reach-" A little gasp when your tongue flits out for just a moment. Tasting the sweat on her skin from hours under HQ's bright lights, from working hard.

You continue your ascent, kissing and licking every inch of her soft, creamy skin. When you reach the apex of her thighs, you hook your fingers into the waistband of her panties and tug them down slowly, revealing her glistening folds. Ani lifts her hips to help you remove them completely, leaving her bare before you.

"Look at me," she commands, tilting your chin up with her fingers. "I want to see your face when you taste me for the first time. I want to watch you lose yourself in my pussy."

"Position me then." You'll lose yourself in between her thighs over and over if it means Ani's directing you. "You guide where I go."

Her eyes darken. You know she loves the control, it's what she appreciates about dancing at the club and getting suckers falling for her movements. Her grip tightens on your hair, guiding you downwards until your face is mere inches from her glistening folds. The scent of her arousal fills your nostrils, sweet and musky. It's almost overwhelming, in the best way possible.

"Start by kissing up and down the lips," Ani instructs, voice breathless. "Get them nice and wet with your mouth first. Show me how much you worship this cunt."

You lock eyes with her, your breath catching in your throat as you lean in close. Your first lick is tentative, a soft swipe along her slit to test her flavor. Ani tastes sweet and tangy, her arousal coating your tongue. It's intoxicating, and you find yourself wanting more.

Trailing open-mouthed kisses along her lower lips, you relish the silky smooth skin and the taste of her excitement. Knowing that it's all yours. You made her like this. You can feel Ani squirming beneath you, her grip on your hair tightening.

"That's it, baby. Just like that," she encourages, her hips rocking subtly against your face. "Now, focus on the clit. Suck on it, flick it with your tongue. 'til you feel it throb."

You do as you're told, capturing her clit between your lips and suckling gently. You flick the sensitive bud with the tip of your tongue, feeling it swell and stiffen from the stimulation.

"Ah fuck!" Ani gasps, her head falling back against your pillows. "Don't stop, nngh - just like that. Your tongue feels so fucking good." She's almost ranting mindlessly now, sounding so out of it as you keep going.

You can feel her growing more and more aroused by the second, her juices coating your chin and dripping onto the bedsheets below. You don't mind though. You'll buy a spare set some other time, after exam week has come and gone. The taste of her is intoxicating, and you know you could spend hours worshipping her like this.

"Mmm, you're a natural at eating pussy, ain't ya?" Ani giggles as her thighs clench around your head, trying to sit up to look at you know. "I knew you were hiding some skills under that nerdy exterior."

"My favourite meal."

"Oh fuck," Ani whimpers, her head falling back against the pillow as you start to eat her out in earnest. "Don't you dare fucking stop, babygirl. Put that tongue to work, baby. Bury it in my cunt. Show me how badly you want to please me."

You feel a rush of pride at her words, determined to impress her even more. You drag your tongue back down to her entrance, pushing past the lips to thrust your tongue inside, fucking her with the slick muscle.

Everything starts to become a blur. It could have taken hours, maybe minutes. You delve in deeper, your tongue plunging into her hot, tight center. Ani's walls clench around you, like her cunt is trying to pull you in even further, eager for more. Desperate. Aching. You lap at her greedily, savouring her taste and scent, relishing in the way she writhes beneath your touch. You squeeze your own thighs together, your own center throbbing in response.

You relentlessly thrust your tongue in and out, curling it to hit that spongy spot you know drives her wild. Ani is writhing underneath you, fisting the sheets and writhing against your probing, relentless tongue.

"I can't believe how good you're making me feel," Ani confesses, "No one's ever worshipped my pussy like this before. Like they actually gave a fuck about making me, oh God, making me cum."

You glance up at her, seeing tears glistening in her brown eyes. You slow down your movements, gentling your licks as you take in her expression. "Hey, hey... don't cry," you murmur, pressing a tender kiss to her clit. Slowing it down. Letting her acclimate to it all. "I'm here. I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere."

"You really mean that?" Ani asks, her voice choked with emotion. "Because, fuck, I mean... no one's ever said they loved me like this before. Like I'm a real person, not just-not just a warm hole to fuck or something."

You feel a lump form in your throat and you blink back your own tears. "I mean it," you promise her fervently. "I love you, Ani. I love every fucking part of you, from your fierce spirit to your broken places to this perfect, greedy little cunt."

Their words seem to be what Ani needs to hear to reach that delicious, mind-ruining peak. She comes undone with a sharp cry, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her pussy spasms and clenches around your tongue, gushing her release into your eager mouth. She tastes hot and wet, a little sweetness to it. You lap it up greedily, humming in satisfaction as you work her through her high.

As her tremors subside, Ani goes limp on the bed, her chest heaving with exertion. "Holy shit," she whispers, a dazed look on her face. "That was-I can't even..."

You crawl up her body and gather her into your arms, holding her close. Ani buries her face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of your skin. You stroke her hair soothingly, letting her come down from her intense orgasm.

"Thank you," Ani murmurs, pressing a kiss to your jaw. "Thank you for seeing me. For not just wanting to fuck me and then throw me away. I'm not used to feeling so - I dunno, shit - appreciated? Worth something?"

You tilt her chin up and press your lips to hers in a deep, tender kiss. 

"You're worth everything," you tell her. You'll tell her over and over again until she believes it.

Ani kisses you back just as passionately, her tongue sliding against yours. Tasting her own cum in your mouth and all over your face. It's filthy and yet still so romantic. When you finally break apart, you see her cheeks are streaked with tears.

"I love you too, you know," Ani declares, a fierce look in her eyes. "You're stuck with me now. Hope you know that."

And it's true for your sex, but especially true as you build your lives together. So you repeat, "you guide where I go."

Anora shoves your shoulder for that, but you can tell she loves it. Eventually, she goes limp against the sheets, panting and flushed. She looks down at you with glazed eyes and a lazy grin. "Not bad for a study break, huh?" she giggles breathlessly. "We make a good fuckin' team."

Looking at the clock, you're not surprised to see you've gone madly overtime. Her pussy just does that to you. Burrowing in Anora's sweat-slicked chest, you groan. You're too exhausted to study now. "I'm gonna fucking fail this exam."

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

i would love to see 1000 secrets with barty crouch or regulus 😏

combining this with another reg request!! I have one coming for Barty soon too dw 🫶

1000 secret kisses | R.B.

cw: MDNI 18+, smut mentioned, secret relationships, fwb, drinking

1000 things prompt list (closed!) | masterlist

Alright, Barty. Truth, dare, or shot,” Dorcas said, still coughing after the gulp of firewhisky she just took.

“Truth,” Barty replied.

“What's your most controversial opinion about someone in the group?” Dorcas challenged, and everyone ooooh’d.

Barty took a contemplative drag of his joint, then—“I would bet my left nut that Regulus is a virgin,” Barty said through a cloud of smoke.

“No way, look at him!” Pandora argued. “He fucks, guarantee it.”

The groups heads swiveled to Regulus, who was reclined lazily in arm chair, knees spread, a cigarette dangling from his fingertips. He looked supremely fuckable to you, like he always did.

That's why you've been secret friends with benefits for most of the school year.

You and Regulus were an unlikely pair; Reg, a certified grouch with a distaste for socializing, and you, a gifted student and natural flirt. But you found him fascinating, deeply intelligent and perceptive, with an artistic heart, even if he preferred not to show it. And he found you endearing, infectious in your enthusiasm.

You'd kissed him after a drunken night in Hogsmeade, and he'd sought you out the following day in the library. Now, you snuck away every chance you got, stealing secret moments around every corner, in every classroom, praying your friends never discovered the truth, lest you never hear the end of it.

This was just for the two of you, and you preferred it that way.

“I'm not saying he isn't sexy!” Barty argued. “I'm saying he couldn't be bothered to fuck someone, too busy reading poetry and glaring.”

“And you expect me to, what? Fuck everything with legs like you, Junior?” Regulus bit back.

“No, but like—I’ve never even seen you glance at someone,” Evan chimed in. “You've never talked about fancying someone, or gotten flustered.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

“Nothing shakes him, and he'd never tell you half-wits if he fancied someone because you can't keep your mouths shut,” Xeno laughed.

“It's not like it's anyone's business anyways,” you added, stealing the joint from Barty and taking a puff. “It's his business who he does, or doesn't, fuck.”

“Oh, come off it. He hasn't even had a crush on you, and we've all had a crush on you,” Barty said.

You nearly choked on your hit. “You're full of shit, Junior.”

“It's true! We talked about it the other day!”

You risked a glance at Regulus while you fanned the smoke from around your face, and found him glaring down at his lap, his expression was calm, but you'd long ago learned to judge his true feelings by his pale eyes. And right now, the hostility in them could raze the castle.

That must have been the day he abruptly dragged you from your dorm and into an empty classroom. He toyed with you until you cried, begging him to get you off. And when he finally let you ride him, you weren't allowed to come until you told him exactly who you belonged to. Making you spell out his entire name, letter by letter, thrust by thrust.

Regulus Arcturus Black.

Your pussy shivered just thinking about it.

“Can we get on with the game, please?” Pandora huffed. “It's y/n’s turn.”

Barry grinned over at you, and you groaned. Why on Salazar's shitty earth did you think it was a good idea to sit next to him?

“Truth, dare, or shot, my darling?” Barty asked, his voice a seductive purr.

You really didn't want to take a shot of that lukewarm swill, and you had a hunch of what Barty's question would be: do you fancy any of us? Leaving you with one option.

“Dare.”

Barty’s eyes lit up, and he rubbed his hands together like a supervillain. “You've made a grave error, my dearest y/n.”

“Don't be an ass, Crouch. Play fair,” Regulus warned, the edge of his voice sharper than was probably necessary.

“Oh, you'll like this Reggie, don't worry.” Barty presented his palms to you, like he was offering a gift. “Treasure, I dare you to make Regulus blush.”

“That's not fair!” Pandora argued. “How is she supposed to do that?”

“By any means necessary.” Barty grinned.

You looked at Regulus, who was already looking at you. “I don't want to cross any lines—”

“And when she fails?” Regulus asked, a hint of a smirk on his pretty mouth. Baiting you.

“Then she takes two shots,” Barty wagered.

You looked back and forth between them, all eyes on you. “Deal,” you said, pushing to your feet.

Regulus' eyes widened a fraction, like he didn't expect you to actually go for it, but he vastly underestimated your pettiness. And you would love nothing more than to be the thing that made Regulus finally crack in front of his friends. A tiny consultation for months of keeping secrets.

You sashayed over to him, ignoring the whistles and shouts from your friends, focused entirely on Regulus' smug face. His eyes roamed over you, lingering at the edge of your skirt, the sway of your hips, and you caught the unmistakable sign of his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and his arrogant expression faltered.

Already, you were making him sweat.

You knew none of your regular tricks would work on him, he was impervious to flirting, but you had an ace up your sleeve.

Carefully, you perched on the arm of his chair, being mindful to not actually touch him, knowing it would bother him to have you so close without being able to touch. He shifted a little in his seat, a fraction closer to you, fingers tightening on his cigarette.

You took a pull from the joint, filling your lungs with its acrid burn. You looked at Regulus expectantly, and he smirked before tilting his head back for you. You leaned in and he parted his lips, letting you blow the smoke into his mouth.

Your friends continued to whoop and cheer, but you focused on Regulus' proximity, the hazy feeling coarsing through your blood.

Merlin, you wanted to kiss him.

Instead, when the last of the smoke left your lungs and entered his, you shifted to whisper in his ear. “Took that hit so well, sweet boy,” you purred, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear.

You felt his body hitch, wanting to cough up the smoke, but he managed to blow it out of the corner of his mouth, casting you vicious side eye. To your delight, you noticed a delicate pink stain was crawling up his neck, warming the tops of his cheekbones.

“She did it!” Evan cheered, and the rest of the group roared in approval.

“Brat,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. You knew you'd be paying for it later, but it was so worth it to know you had an affect on him no one else did.

You sauntered back over to your seat, smiling ear to ear and basking in the groups praise.

Regulus tried to play it off, but there was no going back now. And you knew he was in trouble when it was finally his turn.

“Alright, Reggie,” Pandora said. “Truth, dare, or shot.”

You already knew what he would pick: Reg hated booze, and would rather run around the common room naked than fess up to something.

“Dare,” he said, taking a bold glance at you.

Pandora caught it, of course, and a tendril of uncertainty coiled in your stomach.

“I dare you to make y/n blush back.”

Regulus huffed a low laugh. “Come on, Dora. Give me a challenge.”

You glared at him, and he winked back. Maybe it was the weed, or his competitive nature, but you'd never seen him so brazen.

Everyone ooooh’d.

“Fine, I dare you to kiss one person in the circle!”

Your heart sunk. Even if it was platonic, a stupid dare, you didn't particularly want to see Regulus kiss someone else. Your feelings for Regulus has grown over the course of the your secret relationship, and while neither of you were ready for labels, that didn't mean you wanted to share him, or vice versa if the night in the classroom was any indication.

Regulus narrowed his eyes at her. “Not everyone consents to being kissed by me.”

“I consent!” They all chorused, and you inwardly groaned.

“What? You've never fucked and you've never kissed someone?” Barty teased, ramping up the pressure.

“Fuck off, Crouch,” Regulus hissed. The game was getting to him, and your friends were feasting on his rare display of discomfort.

You'd feel bad for him if you weren't feeling so sorry for yourself. Reg would probably kiss Barty just to shut him up, and then storm off to bed. Leaving you to decipher his words and actions like every night spent without him there to prove his affection with his hands and mouth.

Shit, maybe this arrangement had gotten more out of control than you realized.

“How the fuck is Sirius such a lady-killer, and his little brother is the virgin fuckin’ Mary?” Barty was too busy laughing at his own jokes to notice Regulus get up and prowl across the circle towards him.

Barty finally noticed when Reg was almost on top of him, but at the last second, Regulus pivoted. His hand shot out to grab you by the hair, roughly tilting your head back for the bruising kiss he planted on your unsuspecting lips.

You squeaked in surprise, but quickly gave way for him, melting under his firm, insistent mouth as his tongue delved between your teeth to taste you.

As quickly as he swept in, he was gone, leaving you wide eyed and breathless as he stalked back to his seat and dropped into it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What was it you said? ‘Y/n has the most gorgeous mouth you'd ever seen’?” Regulus said, a mocking edge in his voice. “That you'd ‘give anything to taste her'?”

Barty gaped like a fish.

Regulus smirked. “I’ll have that left bollock now. And I'll take the other one if I hear my girl’s name on your mouth again, you prick.”

Everyone gasped, including you, but Regulus didn't even flinch.

“Understood?” He glared at Barty, then the others, until each one of them lowered their eyes in submission.

Regulus beckoned you forward with two fingers and you jumped up, crossing the space between you and allowing him to pull you into his lap. He threaded his fingers through your hair, pulling you in for another kiss, little more than a peck, but it still made your head spin.

“So, secrets out?” You asked, meeting his eyes.

Regulus shrugged, pecking your cheek. “It doesn't change anything,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. “I’m yours.” He kissed your nose, your temple, your lips, down your neck, until all of your friends dispersed, making disgusted noises as they fled such a public display of affection.

But you couldn't be happier, grinning like a fool as you basked in a thousand not-so-secret kisses.

[buckets-and-trees]

I love bed Chem and the follow up!! I’d love to see them bump into each other outside of hook up times - like they’re both in the same coffee shop…and a cute barista is flirting with reader…and Bucky suddenly feels possessive when he sees it happening from across the shop but can’t say anything as they’re just hook up buds and it’s not his place to be jealous 🤭

Even Better Than In My Head

Characters/Pairings: Bucky Barnes x curvy!Millennial female!reader Word Count: 2.9k Summary: Hooking up with Bucky Barnes in the middle of the night has scratched the itch whenever you're craving between your legs, but crossing paths with the man out in the wild in normal life? Much more dangerous than you could have guessed.

Content Warnings: modern AU, hook up culture/bootycall, established sexual relationship

Author Notes: This is a follow-up to Parking Lot Chem and Camaraderie.

Logistical Notes: My first fill for @buckyboybingo (Gym) and my ninth bit for Valentine Storygrams!

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“This entire table is a masterpiece!” your sister exclaims, thoroughly impressed and overjoyed. “I seriously owe you!”

“You do!” you chide. “You owe me many, many favors.”

“I’d promise my first-born, but that ship has already sailed!” she replies, gesturing at her daughter - your niece - who is currently engaged in some sort of statue tag game with a gaggle of other children her age.

“I’m serious, though. You know you absolutely saved me.”

"I know," you say, waving off her gratitude with a smile. "That's what sisters are for, right?"

You both turn to survey the booth, a riot of pink and red decorations adorning every surface. Heart-shaped cookies, cupcakes with swirling frosting rosettes, raspberry-lemon bars, and delicate palmiers drizzled with white chocolate and heart-shaped sprinkles cover the table in neat, enticing rows.

"Seriously, though," your sister continues, lowering her voice, "this could make or break my campaign for PTA president. The entire board is here, and they're all watching to see how this goes."

You nod, remembering the frantic phone call you'd received two nights ago.

Your sister's voice had been a mix of panic and exhaustion as she explained how her usually angelic toddler had decided to test out his superhero abilities by leaping off the kitchen counter. The result? A nasty gash that required a trip to urgent care and several stitches. But to make matters worse, she’d only been so distracted to allow the failed test-flight of her two-year-old because she’d been trying to figure out why her oven would turn on, but refused to heat up past 180 degrees - nowhere near close enough to take care of her baking needs.

So you agreed - or offered, you really don’t quite remember how this part of the conversation went at this point - to take care of making all the baked goods.

“Couldn't let my favorite sister crash and burn at the Valentine's Day bake sale, could I?"

"I'm your only sister, you goof," she retorts with a laugh. "But again, thank you. I don't know what I would have done without you."

As you're about to respond, your sister's eyes suddenly widen, and a sly grin spreads across her face. She leans in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Speaking of paying you back, I think I'm about to start right now."

You follow her gaze across the crowded gymnasium, your curiosity piqued. Through the sea of parents and children, a tall figure is making his way towards your booth. As he draws closer, you can't help but notice how he seems to part the crowd effortlessly, his presence commanding yet somehow warm.

"See that absolutely gorgeous man heading our way?" your sister murmurs, her excitement palpable. "That's Aiden Hartley. He's a single dad, a widower, and practically the perfect gentleman."

You try to maintain your composure as Aiden approaches, but it's difficult not to stare. He's easily over six feet with a build that suggests he's no stranger to the gym. His short blonde hair catches the light, looking almost golden under the fluorescent glare of the school's overhead lighting. Even from a distance, you can see his eyes - a striking shade of green that reminds you of summer leaves.

As Aiden reaches your booth, a warm smile spreads across his face. Your heart skips a beat.

"Ladies," he greets you both, his voice deep and smooth. "I have to say, this spread looks absolutely incredible."

Your sister jumps in, "Oh, it's all thanks to my amazing sister here! Aiden, you haven’t met her yet, but she's the baking genius."

Aiden's gaze returns to you, a spark of interest in those mesmerizing green eyes. "Is that so? Well, I'm thoroughly impressed. I'm Carter’s dad, by the way, he’s in the same class as your niece." He extends his hand.

You introduce yourself, hoping your palm isn't too sweaty as you shake his hand. His grip is firm but gentle, and you can't help but notice how your hand seems to fit very nicely into his.

"So, what would you recommend?" Aiden asks, gesturing to the array of sweets.

“I’d like one of the cupcakes,” the last voice you’re expecting to hear interrupts from just behind you, and you whip around to find yourself face to face with Bucky, the man who has been regularly - if intermittently - wrecking you sexually.

What on earth is he doing here?

Not only is he here, he’s looking devastatingly handsome in a dark blue button-down and jeans. Your breath catches in your throat as memories of your late-night encounter flood your mind.

"One of the chocolate ones," Bucky drawls, his eyes roaming over the baked goods before settling on you with a heated gaze. "Is that a strawberry buttercream on top?"

“Mhmm,” you manage to nod, throat completely dry, brain trying to figure out how to function.

You’re not supposed to be seeing this man in the light of day - does not compute, does not compute.

"Looks like someone's been busy in the kitchen," he adds.

Your sister, oblivious to the tension crackling between you and Bucky, beams at him. "Yes! Isn't it amazing? My sister made everything here."

Bucky's lips curl into a smirk. "Is that so? You’re clearly skilled with your hands - the piping on this frosting is flawless,” he says, handing cash to your sister in exchange for one of the cupcakes.

He brings the treat to his nose, inhaling deeply, his eyes never leaving yours. "Smells divine," he murmurs, voice low enough that only you can hear. Then, with a wink that makes your knees weak, he turns and strides away, weaving through the crowd with the same effortless grace that brought him to your booth. His confident stride draws more than a few appreciative glances from the other parents.

Your sister nudges you with her elbow, breaking you out of your daze. "See, I told you you're too modest with your baking skills," she whispers excitedly. "Bucky Barnes is usually a man of few words, and he dropped plenty just now."

You nod absently, still reeling from Bucky's sudden appearance and the way he'd looked at you. Your mind races, trying to process the conflicting emotions swirling within you. On one hand, there's the familiar spark of desire that Bucky always ignites. On the other, there's a new, tentative flutter of interest as you glance back at Aiden, who's patiently waiting with a warm smile.

Your sister, ever the matchmaker, seamlessly steers the conversation back to Aiden. "So, Aiden, you were asking about recommendations?" She gives you a subtle but pointed look.

You clear your throat. "Right. Well, the raspberry-lemon bars are a personal favorite. They've got just the right balance of sweet and tart."

Aiden's eyes light up. "That sounds perfect. I'll take two, please." As your sister boxes up his order, he turns back to you. "So, do you bake professionally? These look like they could be in a high-end bakery."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Oh no, it's just a hobby. I work in marketing, actually."

"Well, you certainly have a talent for it," Aiden says, his smile warm and genuine. "I can’t wait to try these,” he adds, holding up his box.

As you're about to respond to Aiden's compliment, your sister suddenly gasps and slaps her forehead dramatically. "Oh no! I completely forgot!" She turns to you with an exaggerated look of distress. "The PTA was supposed to set up the face-painting station, but I just realized we left all the supplies in my car!"

You raise an eyebrow, sensing the poorly disguised matchmaking attempt, but play along. "Oh, that's not good. You'd better go take care of that."

Your sister nods vigorously, already backing away from the booth. "Absolutely! Can't have disappointed kids on Valentine's Day!" She pauses, then turns to Aiden with a look of calculated innocence. "Aiden, I hate to impose, but would you mind helping my sister man the booth until I get back? It shouldn't take more than fifteen or twenty minutes.”

Aiden’s eyes flash to you, gleaming with amusement, clearly recognizing your sister's ploy for what it is, but he plays along anyway. "Of course! I'd be more than happy to lend a hand... or take an order or two," he jokes, winking at you.

Your cheeks flush a with heat, but you’re not totally unhappy with her shenanigans.

Your sister rushes off and Aiden takes her place behind the table. As the two of you settle into a rhythm working the table, you can't help but feel a spark of connection. His easy smile and warm demeanor put you at ease, and soon you're chatting effortlessly about everything from your shared love of books to your favorite local restaurants.

"So, marketing, huh?" Aiden asks during a lull. "What kind of projects do you work on?"

You launch into a brief explanation of your latest campaign, surprised at how easily the conversation flows. Aiden listens attentively, asking insightful questions that show he's genuinely interested. His green eyes sparkle with intelligence, and you find yourself drawn in by his charm.

"That sounds fascinating," he says, leaning in slightly. "I'd love to hear more about it sometime. Maybe over coffee?"

Your heart flutters at the invitation, but before you can respond, your eyes are inexplicably drawn across the crowded gymnasium. Through the sea of parents and children, you spot Bucky leaning against the far wall.

He's standing slightly apart from the crowd, his presence both magnetic and aloof. The sleeves of his dark blue plaid shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing the corded muscles of his forearms. His hair, usually disheveled when you see him, is neatly combed back into a bun, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw.

As if sensing your gaze, Bucky's eyes lock with yours from across the room. A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face as he brings the cupcake to his lips. You watch, transfixed, as he takes a deliberate bite, his eyes never leaving yours.

The chocolate cake yields easily, and a smear of pink frosting clings to his upper lip. Your mouth goes dry as you watch his tongue dart out, slowly and purposefully licking away the sweet confection.

The sight sends a jolt of electricity through your body, igniting a fire low in your belly. Memories of that same tongue exploring your most intimate places flood your mind. You can almost feel the ghost of it and press your legs together.

Suddenly aware that you've been staring, you snap your attention back to Aiden, who's looking at you expectantly. You realize he's still waiting for an answer about coffee.

"Oh, um, yes," you stammer, trying to regain your composure. "Coffee sounds great."

Aiden's face lights up with a warm smile. "Wonderful! How about this Saturday?"

You nod, pushing thoughts of Bucky to the back of your mind. "Saturday works for me."

As you exchange numbers with Aiden, you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and guilt. Excitement at the prospect of getting to know this kind, handsome man better. Guilt because you know that no matter how charming Aiden is, a part of you is still thinking about Bucky and the raw, primal energy between you.

About how he probably would have no problem dragging you away to his car and fucking you in the parking lot right now.

You think that’s something Aiden would never do .

The rest of the bake sale passes in good conversation with Aiden, chatting between customers and stealing glances at each other when you think the other isn't looking. You learn that he's an architect, specializing in sustainable design, and his passion for his work is evident in the way his eyes light up as he describes his latest project.

"It's a community center," he explains, his hands moving animatedly as he speaks. "We're incorporating solar panels, rainwater harvesting systems, and even a rooftop garden. The goal is to create a space that not only serves the community but also educates them about sustainable living."

You find yourself genuinely interested, asking questions about the design process and the challenges he faces. As you listen, you can't help but appreciate how different this interaction is from your usual encounters with Bucky. With Aiden, there's a warmth, a sense of connection that’s so natural.

But your gaze drifts regularly to Bucky. Bucky has become attached to a young boy who looks to be about six years old. The resemblance between them is striking – the same strong jawline, the same chestnut brown hair. They grin and laugh together, Bucky follows him around to the face painting, a craft station, poses with him in the photo booth.

All you have ever shared with Bucky is sex. The two of you had given next to no time to small talk even in the first few days of messaging on the hook up app and in your first meet up. You had both made it clear you used each other for sex and didn’t want anything else from the connection.

As the bake sale winds down, your sister finally returns, apologizing profusely for needing to cover the face painting instead of helping at the booth. She winks at you when Aiden isn't looking, clearly pleased with her efforts. Aiden continues to linger, helping to fold up the tablecloth and carry boxes.

This morning you were thoroughly single, no need or with to do much to be otherwise. But now you find yourself torn between two very different men. Aiden, with his warm smile and gentle demeanor, represents the possibility of a genuine connection, of building something meaningful. Your conversation flows easily, and you can't deny the flutter in your chest when he laughs at your jokes.

But then there's Bucky. Your attention drawn back to him over and over, watching as he had interacted with the young boy who must be his son. It's a side of him you've never seen before, and it stirs something unexpected within you. The tenderness in his eyes as he looks at his child is a stark contrast to the raw intensity you're used to seeing when he looks at you.

As you and Aiden start packing up the remaining baked goods, Bucky approaches your booth once more. This time, the little boy is with him, clinging to his hand and looking up at you with wide, curious eyes.

"Hey," Bucky says, his voice smooth and charming. "We wanted to grab a few more treats before you packed up." His eyes flick to Aiden, then back to you, a flash of something - possessiveness? jealousy? - passing over his face.

"Of course," you manage, brightening your voice as you direct your attention to the small boy. "What would you like?"

The little boy tugs on Bucky's hand, pointing at the heart-shaped cookies. "Can I have those, Daddy?"

Your heart does a little flip at hearing Bucky called 'Daddy'. It's such a stark contrast to the Bucky you know - the one who whispers filthy things in your ear as he pounds into you.

"Sure thing, buddy. How about we get a few to take home for later?" Bucky suggests, his voice gentle as he speaks to his son.

You can't help but smile at the interaction as you carefully package up a half dozen of the heart-shaped cookies. As you hand the box to Bucky, your fingers brush against his, sending a whoosh of butterflies through your stomach. His eyes lock with yours, dark and intense, before he glances meaningfully at Aiden.

"Thanks," Bucky says, his voice low. "These look delicious. I'm sure they taste even better than they look." The double meaning in his words is clear, and you feel a flush creeping up your neck.

"I hope you enjoy them," you manage to reply, your voice slightly breathless.

As Bucky turns to leave, his son looks up at you with a shy smile. "Thank you for the treats!”

"You're very welcome, young man," you reply, smiling warmly at the little boy. As they walk away, you can't help but watch Bucky's retreating form, admiring the way his shirt clings to his broad shoulders.

You and Aiden finish packing up the last of the baked goods, and he helps you carry the boxes to your car.

"So, about Saturday," he says as you close the trunk. "There's this great little café downtown that does this stuffed french toast that will send you to heaven. How does that sound?”

You smile at Aiden, genuinely excited about the prospect of getting to know him better. "That sounds wonderful," you reply. "I love a good french toast."

As you exchange details for your upcoming date, you can't help but feel a mix of anticipation and guilt. Aiden is everything you should want - kind, intelligent, and clearly interested in more than just a physical relationship. Yet, as you watch him walk away, your mind drifts back to Bucky.

Later that night, as you're getting ready for bed, your phone buzzes with a text. Your heart races as you see Bucky's name on the screen.

BUCKY: Those cookies were delicious. But not as sweet as your cunt.

You bite your lip, torn between responding and ignoring the message. Before you can decide, another text comes through.

BUCKY: I'm in the neighborhood. Have any of that frosting left?

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[kiszjuli]

BURNT HEARTS .ᐟ

✸ sweetheart!donghyuck x fem!reader | genre. fluff | w.c. 2.0k | ♡

↳ synopsis. lee donghyuck never stepped foot in a kitchen for more than a midnight snack, but for valentine's day he is determined to bake something for you-the campus's best baker and the girl who stole his heart without even trying. when things don't go as he planned, he still shows up armed with charm.

↳playlist. strawberry sundae - nct djj. because of you - minho & ningning. by my side - junny. beaches - beabadoobee. sugar - maroon5. perfect ed sheeran.

the soft hum of the oven filled the small campus bakery, along with the smell of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry mingling together. you wipe your face with your rolled up sleeve on your arm, feeling the soft tickle of flour on your face. you were currently decorating the first batch of perfectly golden vanilla cupcakes. a piping bag filled with a smooth buttercream in your hands as you lean down to the counter. with precise movements, you swirled the icing onto the cupcakes, then topped them with edible pink and red glitter.

the delicious smell drifting outside of the bakery causing people to stop and look for a few seconds in curiosity. it lured multiple people, the feeling of being watched while you worked not foreign to you.

this time however, someone stayed, leaning against the doorframe with a grin.

"wow, look at you," donghyuck spoke, ripping you from your concentration. "the bob ross of cupcakes."

not bothering to look up, knowing his voice all too well. "if you came to steal one, you're out of luck. these are for the valentine's charity event tomorrow only,"

"you read me all wrong," he said stepping further into the bakery. "i'm here to admire the art and dedication. it's a little intimidating, honestly,"

you smirked finally standing up straight. "intimidated by some cupcakes?" you tilt your head. "that's a new one,"

"no, by you." he corrected, now standing at the closest table to where you were working. he folded his arms as he watched you easily shape a cupcake into a heart. "how do you make this look so easy?"

"it's not that hard, you just have to focus hard and practice," you said rolling eyes with a laugh. "i'm sure you could do it too if you tried hard enough," you say motioning to him with the piping bag in your hand, before dipping back down and swirling the icing again.

donghyuck snorted. "please, if i even touched that piping bag, it would end up everywhere but the cupcake,"

your hands remained steady as you laughed. finally finishing the last cupcake of the batch, you put the piping bag down. "it's really just about patience and precision..two things i'm guessing you're not that great at?" you teased.

he gasps dramatically. "well, i'll have you know that i'm very patient and and precise." he turns his nose up. hearing you laugh, he pipes up again. "for example, every time i come in here, i precisely plan out how i'm gonna make you laugh, and i'm still patiently waiting for the day you let me sneak a cupcake."

you rolled your eyes again as you cleaned up your baking space a litte, however you couldn't stop the smile creeping onto your face. "well, donghyuck, if you're so patient , you should actually try baking some time rather than just claiming it's too difficult."

"challange accepted," he siad immediately. he leaned off the table and uncrossed his arms. "i'm gonna bake you something so good, you'll forget about all of these," he says motioning to the cupcakes surrounding you.

you nod teasingly "sure, just try not to start a fire,"

"hey, have some faith," he said laughing as he made his way out, but not forgetting to stop by the cookies decorated with on themed decorations, taking one that said 'love'. and before you could stop him, he was already out of the bakery.

shaking your head with a fond smile, you got back to work.

─

donghyuck burst into his dorm room, his hair slightly messy from the cold breeze outside and a determined look on his face. Mark glanced up from his laptop, where he was seated cross-legged on his bed, wearing headphones.

“you’re back early,” mark said, pulling off his headphones. “i thought you were studying at the library.”

“wasn’t studying,” donghyuck declared, tossing his bag onto the couch. “i was researching.”

mark blinked. “researching…what?”

donghyuck grinned as he held up his phone, with a recipe pulled up. “i’m going to bake something. for valentine’s day. for her.”

mark paused, staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “you’re going to bake? like… you in the kitchen? with an oven?…that’s on?”

donghyuck rolled his eyes.

“why does everyone act like i’m incapable of doing basic things?” he groaned, throwing himself onto his bed. “it’s simple. melt the chocolate, mix it, cool it—and bam, you’re done. easy-peasy.”

mark laughed, amused at his words. “you literally told me you ‘don’t trust ovens’ because they make ‘loud noises.’

“that was a obviously a joke,” donghyuck said quickly, though the heat rushing to his ears said otherwise. “and besides, it’s different this time. i’m doing this for her.”

mark tilted his head, a small smile forming. “so you’re really into her, huh?”

he didn’t even hesitate. “of course. she’s amazing. Have you seen her work? not to mention, she’s smart, witty, kind, beautiful.” he listed out. “i need her to know i’m not just some loud guy who’s always stealing cookies from her bakery.”

mark snorted. “but that’s exactly what you are,”

“shut up,” donghyuck shot back, sitting up. “look, i’m serious about this. i want to make her something special. she deserves that.”

mark leaned back, studying his face. “alright, fine. if you’re that determined, i’ll help.”

donghyuck’s eyes lit up. “really?”

“yeah,” mark said with a shrug. “but if you mess anything up, you’re cleaning it by yourself.”

─

an hour later, donghyuck stood in the small dorm kitchen, nervously stirring melted chocolate in a pot over the stove. he was standing at least a foot away from the oven, with an awkward arch of his back, and elbow in the air. mark tried to hold back his laugh as he leaned against the counter, supervising like a skeptical coach.

“careful, hyuck, don’t let it burn,” mark spoke up. “and stop standing so far away it’s not gonna bite you,” he lets out a small laugh.

“it”s fine, i’ve got this,” donghyuck brushed off his warning.

the second he spoke, smoke began to curl upwards from under the pot. “wait is-“

“hyuck its burning!” mark shouted.

“but it- oh shit- wait!” donghyuck panicked and grabbed the handle of the pot. feeling the hot metal burn into his skin, he yelped probably a little louder than necessary, he dropped it causing the burning chocolate to spill out onto the stove and counter a little.

mark sighed as the smoke filled the room. he turned off the stove and grabbed a towel to wave around, hoping that the smoke detector wouldn’t go off. “i thought you said this was easy!”

donghyuck turned to mark after staring at the burnt chocolate, the smell not so pleasant anymore. “the stupid recipe told me to do the wrong thing!”

after opening a window, mark looked back to donghyuck. “well..what now?”

donghyuck sighed and his shoulders slumped. “i don’t know…i guess ill just buy her something..”

mark felt his heart twinge at the defeated look on his roommates’ face. “you’re doing this because you want it to be special right?”

after seeing donghyuck nod slowly he spoke. “then try again, even if it’s not perfect. she’ll see that you put effort in and that’s all that should matter,”

“fine. but if i burn the next one too, im never stepping foot near an oven again. i don’t like the noises they make anyway,” he says with a scowl that mark laughs at.

─

needless to say, after donghyuck tried again on valentine’s day to make the chocolate; he burnt it again. thankfully not as bad, but it still wasn’t up to his standards.

which is why as he stands outside your dorm door, he hesitates with a slightly frowned look.

when he finally knocks and you open the door, his face immediately lights up at the sight of you.

“happy valentine’s day,” he says shoving the pink box with a red silky ribbon around it to you.

“what’s this?” you ask cautiously but feel a smile creeping up to your face as you grab the box from his hands.

"homemade chocolates," he replies before rubbing the back of his neck. "kinda,"

"kinda?" you raise a brow.

donghyuck groans dramatically and walks inside your dorm uninvited, plopping down dramatically on what he assumes was your bed. “alright, i may have underestimated how hard it is to melt chocolate without burning it… or how much coco powder is too much… or the fact that you’re supposed to let it set before you start decorating.” he rambles.

opening the box, you're left biting back a laugh at the sight before you: uneven lumps of chocolate in odd shapes. some were decorated with sprinkles and others with what looked like smudged writing that you can’t quite decipher.

you were turning your head from side to side trying your best to read them.

“what does this one say?” you ask, pointing to a piece that looks like it’s meant to spell something. you hold it out for him to see.

he leans over, squinting. “i think it’s supposed to say ‘be mine,’ but the chocolate pen thing exploded halfway through.”

you can’t hold back your laughter anymore, doubling over as donghyuck pouts. “hey! stop laughing! i tried, okay? i even watched, like, 40 youtube videos, but those people are liars. they make it look easy!”

“why didn’t you just buy some?” you ask, still giggling as you pop a small piece of chocolate into your mouth. It’s… not the greatest, but it was still edible.

donghyuck shrugs with a pout, his usual confidence faltering a bit. “because… i wanted it to be special,” he admits, avoiding your gaze. “i know i mess around and joke a lot, but i wanted to do something that actually took effort. for you.”

the sincerity in his voice takes you by surprise, and you feel your laughter fade into something softer. a small tint of pink painting your cheeks.

“thank you, donghyuck,” you say, placing the box on your desk and sitting beside him. “it’s actually really sweet. even if they're.. you know…”

“terrible? completely awful? atrocious?” he supplies, grinning despite himself.

“chaotic,” you correct, smiling back.

there’s a moment of silence between you before he nudges your shoulder gently. “so… did it work? are you impressed?”

you pretend to think about it, tapping your chin with your pointer finger. “hmm, i guess i’ll let you know after you take me out for ice cream to make up for the beautiful chocolate.” your emphasis making him stifle a laugh.

he lights up, his grin turning playful again. “deal. but you have to promise not to tell anyone about the chocolate disaster.”

“nope, no promises,” you tease, standing from your bed and grabbing your coat as he groans in mock defeat.

as you walk out of your dorm together, you glance at donghyuck and find yourself smiling. sure, the chocolates were a complete disaster, but somehow, he’d still managed to make your day special in his own, perfectly imperfect way. something he seemed to do every time he was around.

─

the ice cream shop was pretty quiet, leaving only the sound of spoons scraping the bottom of bowls. you sat across from donghyuck at the small table. as you both slowly finished your sundaes you spoke up.

“i never thought you’d actually try to bake for me,” you said, a teasing smile on your lips. you took another spoonful of your strawberry sundae.

donghyuck chuckled, looking down at his half-eaten sundae. “i wasn’t really sure i could, but i wanted to do something special. even if it didn’t work out.”

you paused, studying him closely. he didn’t look embarrassed or frustrated like he did before; instead, there was a quiet sincerity in his eyes, as if he was letting his guard down with you completely.

“you didn’t need to make anything,” you said softly, “just being with me is enough.”

donghyuck’s gaze softened, his fingers brushing against yours on the table subtly. he leaned forward, the air between you filled with something unspoken.

and without thinking, you closed the distance, letting your lips meet his in a soft, gentle kiss. it wasn’t rushed, but filled with everything you’d both been avoiding saying.

when you pulled back, he smiled softly, a warmth in his eyes. “i think that was worth almost burning my dorm down”

you laughed, a little breathless. “maybe so.”

─

⁀➷⊹ ࣪ ˖~THE LA LA LOVE SERIES .ᐟ

taggies(open) ↳ @kittydollzz @huffnpuffckk @completelyjae @lovesuhng @nae-vm @ayibdorrt @chocoriki @yomaman @yukisroom97

[holycowboytiger]

Poly!141 x Hacker!Reader (Part 2)

GN!Reader

(It is heavily implied that the reader is autistic)

CW: Blackmail, implied murder, religious trauma, religious imagery, reader is slowly losing it- or they lost it a while back

(A/N: this is not the best chapter, I'm actually iffy about this one and the pacing, but i really wanted to show a little bit more behind the curtain, and some more about the reader- so !! tada!!)

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fuckfuckfuckfuck,,, what the fuck do you do?! Peter has the laptop,, he will see.. fuck he'll se everything,, they'll be ruined, kiss their jobs goodbye- you need to do something-

Wait... Why do you care? This man had cursed your eyes, and his fuckass boyfriends had been harassing you at work for the better part of two weeks, who cares if Peter finds those videos- who cares if the taskforce's secret is revealed, and their careers are torn into shambles?

who gives to shits if all they live and stand for will be ripped away from them?

......It's you, you care, strangely enough you might be the only one who does, this office adores some drama, and 141 being revealed would cause such a stir people would be talking about it for years on end, but you knew what else would come of it.

At the same time- do you want to put yourself on the line? Do you want to be shady and blackmail your fellow techies to protect these men? You could just leave it... It has nothing to do with you, and to take time out of your own day to help these guys out? Are you really that charitable?

Who are you kidding... now is not the time to have a morality check, you know what's right,, and what is wrong, and - maybe you care a little bit, these men don't deserve to be revealed in such a way, and you can save them from the shame the contents of the laptop would bring.....

It would ruin the taskforce's lives, all four men would be disgracefully discharged, and their names would be dragged through the dirt for years to come, and as heartless as you were, you just couldn't let it happen, maybe you could be like an office vigilante?

Batman would be proud.....

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Holy shit you're actually doing this aren't you? You're such a good person, maybe it will make up- and cleanse you of your previous sins, wash the blood off your hands of the people you laid to rest.. For good reason

those people deserved to die, you know this, as desperate and gut wrenching as their screams were, they deserved the punishment you laid upon them... Maybe this- this kind gesture will ease your mind, maybe this action will help you sleep easier

Fuck it... time to go keep 141's secret, hopefully without their knowledge.

The cogs turned in your head as you slowly worked out a plan, was it a morally correct plan? no, absolutely fucking not! but you've skinned someone alive so how bad could this be ?

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Your eyes narrowed at Peter as he took the laptop from Soap, his own eyes lighting up as Soap slapped his shoulder and thanked him,, calling him a life saver- yeah right.. If only Soap knew that Peter had a habit of straying a bit too far from home, to girls that are a bit too young for him.

Would Soap care? Surely he would right? That's something he cant turn a blind eye to right? He was a good person, You're a good person.. right? Of course you are, you're helping him out... But is it really a good deed if you're doing it for selfish reasons?

To calm the sinful thoughts in your head? Are you a good person? surely...Surely not? You've killed people, tortured people because in your eyes they're bad...

What would the big man in the sky say? He would tell you to forgive,,, wouldn't he,, what you have done,,, the people you have hurt,, there is no prayer great or long enough that would grant you passage to the pearly gates...Maybe.. Or maybe you were sent down here to do the dirty work, to do the actions your forgiving God could not bare....

You're a good person.. you are a good person...right?

you don't have time for this.. get it together, you need to get that laptop..

Rising from you desk you approach Peter, slapping on the best smile you can without looking deranged you stand infront of him.. looking like a predator whose spotted easy prey

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''Peter! Hey there...'

''Uhh,, hello?'' his eyes narrowed at you

''Hows your wife hm?'' you are great at social interaction! no really you're doing great, this is a normal structured conversation..

''She's... she's good! Do you need something?''

''Yes actually''

strike one, revealing that you're here for selfish reasons and don't give a fuck about how his wife is doing..shit

''Okay? What is it?''

''That laptop''

strike two, you're too forward

''What?''

''The laptop.''

''I-Im, not too sure I can give it to you- Johnny.. Soap asked me to take care of it''

HAH look at this loser, using Soaps name like they're friends, the guy probably doesn't give a fuck about him, he's only a tech drone, only here to take care of his technical troubles

''oh- yeah.. sure- but- but you have alot on your plate right? You're close to a promotion right? You wouldn't want to direct your attention somewhere else, especially when you're sooo close? Right?''

Ok ok- we're getting somewhere, stroke his ego-

''Yeah but- I'm sure its nothing big-''

''Peter. You seem- weary to give this laptop away.. I know you look up to the guy but- its just a device''

''You seem a bit too eager to get this laptop.''

Strike three, he's onto you, switch tactics, you need that fucking laptop.

''If you don't give me the laptop, your wife will find out who Cierra is.''

''wh-what?!''

''You heard me.''

''What,, what the fuck?!''

his eyes widened, you've got it, secured the bag,, by- strange means, but you're a strange person, it isn't ideal to let him know this early into the plan that you know of his adultery, but you don't have alot of ammo in your arsenal.

''The laptop.''

''I don't know what you're talking about.''

''Yes you do. Black hair, green eyes, freckles? How strange, I thought your wife was blonde and blue eyed Peter. And.. Isn't, Cierra a bit young for you?''

''You- You're fucking insane, I would never-''

Denial- he thinks your bluffing. Show him you aren't

''You also frequent a motel on the west side of the city- what would your wife think when she finds out that you actually did get your Christmas bonus this year? but you spent it on that little side piece of your's..hm?''

''finefine! fuck...Just - just don't''

''I wont. Just do as i say and your secret is safe with me'' for now..

Ahhhhh the sweet taste of blackmail and victory in the morning, truly a breakfast to die for... except its not morning,, its early afternoon.

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You return to your desk, trophy in hand, and you get to work quickly, afraid Soap might return too soon and see you working on his problem.

Just wipe the search history, take care of the virus, and DO NOT TOUCH THE FILE. You know what's in there and you are not curious enough to check if its been updated.

or are you?

NO YOU ARENT- BRO STOP???

anyway..

The wipe only took about five minutes, that's great! in and out, Soap wont suspect a thing! ...

You should reward yourself with a coffee! Even if you hate it, you haven't slept in days, keep yourself awake.

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Sauntering into the office kitchen, you come across someone you weren't the happiest with coming face to face with, and by the scowl you received, he wasn't happy either-

He's the taskforce's pretty boy, Gaz- or Kyle? Garrick? Wasn't his callsign because someone spelt his name wrong? Hah, loser-

Ok stop that's mean....

Forcing your gaze to the floor you approached the counter, opening one of the cupboard to reach for a mug, you were going to offer Gaz one before you stopped yourself, this guy does NOT like you- make your coffee and get out.

Would it be weird if you just left now? Took the mug with you? ..

Yes that would be so weird, but you really don't feel like making coffee whilst a member of special forces watches you like you're defusing a bomb.

You reach for the coffee tin before feeling how ...empty it was.. oh for fucks sake- Sandra that bitch, she definitely finished it- Ugh, fucking- such an inconsiderate asshole..

Now you have to put the mug back like a weirdo and leave-

''None left hm?'' Pretty boy spoke up

''Uh.... no.'' you answered

''Shame that.''

you swore, you fucking swore you saw a smirk cross his lips- that prick- he knew- he knew it was empty, and just didn't tell you, letting you embarrass yourself infront of him,

''Yeah'' fucking shame he didn't die from that fall from a helicopter

you sigh and put the mug back. Guess you'll just have to fight off sleep with pure will power, which never worked.

Turning to leave, you avoided Gaz's heavy gaze and dragged yourself from the kitchen, ignoring the urge to bash his head onto the counter.

Maybe you should leak the videos...

No- no you should not, shake your head, hes an ass, but he does good work,,, and he takes it up the as-

ok enough.

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You walked back to your desk and picked up Soap's laptop, preparing to take it back to Peter- only,, he wasn't at his desk.. Where the fuck did he go?

Is he on lunch??

No its only 2:30...

Your eyes scan the room until they land on your target, pointing at your workspace,, talking to.. Soap...oh fuck....

Peter looked flushed, as Soap glared at your desk, then his eyes landed on you, holding his laptop.. fuck...fuck... caught red handed, with your hand in the cookie jar... do you think this is the time that you unlock your secret invisibility powers? Or teleportation! anything to get you out of here

Maybe you should flee the country, change your name to something ridiculous- and oh fuck he's coming over, and he looked pissed, brace yourself! this is the day you're gonna get knocked out! in work! infront of a bunch of people, not your proudest moment but hell, it was for a good cause-

''You. With me.''

Don't fight it, just, let him take you away, maybe he'll be nice and shoot you out back, maybe he'll bury you too!

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Following him felt like you were being led to the guillotine, walking through the empty halls until you find an area that you now realise is the barracks, this is not your territory, you are out of your element, lets just hope his teammates aren't here, lets hope he doesn't jump you with his boyfriends, as much as they would enjoy it-

Soap stops suddenly, and you almost walk right into his back, he whips around with an unreadable expression, he looked you up in down, before his eyes zeroed onto his laptop, still firmly in your grasp

''Can ye explain to me why I gave Peter my laptop to fix, and why it is now in yer hands hm?''

shit.