#i have yet to even properly plan this all out but i want it out right NOW

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC’s Lucien - First Snowfall Date - English Translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Lucien’s 2024 CN Birthday Event (Golden Love Ratio)✧ Birthday Story | Birthday Prologue + Birthday Date (You’re here!) | ASMR

"Actually, the reason for wanting to own a castle is quite simple."

"Because that way, I could have a space of my own to carry out those daring and even dangerous experiments."

"And my parents could also accompany me in the castle, pursuing the research they are deeply passionate about."

"That way, they wouldn’t have to be 'trapped' in the lab all the time."

Translation under the cut!

I’m sorry for dropping this so late. As you might have seen from my tweet, my dad was hospitalized in ICU this month. I’m still struggling emotionally now as I wait for him to wake up. It’s been a difficult time, and the grief is still heavy on me as he hasn’t regained consciousness yet… 

Sharing this date translation is the least I can do to celebrate his birthday for now, even though I won’t be annoyingly scream about it like I usually would hhhh. I guess this date feels a bit like a small comfort—a reminder that even if your loved ones have passed away, it’s not all sadness. There’s still warmth in the memories they left behind :”””.

So, Xu Mo, happy birthday. I’m so happy to see you finally embracing your past with such warmth and nostalgia. Honestly, this year feels like it’s all about him finally gaining ‘blood and flesh,’ becoming more human and beautifully stained with the colors of the mortal world. His world is no longer monochrome, and now he’s moving toward the most vibrant and colorful spring. 

✂���——————–

Before reading recommendations:

[2024 Birthday Birthday (a MUST read because this date is heavily reference this!) - My Translation]

[Winery date - Youtube (EN Loc)] 

—秋天是个本身就是带着悲伤和落寞的季节， 但是秋天也拥有盛放的花草， 拥有醇美的葡萄 酒， 还有不变的思念。(Autumn itself is a season inherently tinged with sadness and loneliness. Yet, autumn also boasts blooming flowers and thriving plants, rich and mellow wines, and unwavering longing.’) 

[Autumn Blaze Date - Youtube (EN Loc)]

No tear-floods, Nor sigh-tempests move. The fulfillment of a promise is...

“诺言的实现是别离的开始”。(“The fulfillment of a promise is the beginning of separation.")

[Tidying Up Date - My Translation - Youtube (EN Loc)]

—如果在那些被定格的风景里,你依然生动 鲜活,是否证明我还想念着你。(If in those frozen scenes, you still appear vivid and lively as before, does that mean I still miss you?)

那些被我判定为重要的事,即便现在已经 不再拥有同样的心情,那我是否还爱着你。(If what I previously judged to be important no longer reflects my feelings now, does that mean I still love you?)

✂———————–

[Birthday Prologue]

Sunlight shines on the sofa, and the cozy warmth makes me lift my head from my laptop, stretching with a big, lazy yawn.

MC: It always feels like something’s missing…

Lucien's birthday is coming soon, and to properly celebrate that day, he's been rushing his experiments progress lately, making him incredibly busy.

So, I want to give him a "soft and fluffy" birthday where he can lie down anytime and anywhere.

It's just that I've run into a little problem for the time being.

=Flashback Start=

MC: Lucien, what do you think of this town?

Lucien: It seems quite nice. It just so happens that the lab next door seems to be going here to do some research.

MC: What? No, no, if we're not careful, you'll be swept away by work!

I took out my Plan B and placed it in front of Lucien.

MC: How about this southern city then~ It should be very warm here.

Lucien: Hmm... If you don't want to be disturbed by outsiders, I'm afraid this place won't work either.

Lucien: I remember an academic summit is being held here soon. I just returned the call and declined the invitation to attend.

=Flashback End=

Therefore, after several plans were forced to be aborted one after another, my gaze inevitably shifted to the other side of the ocean.

Let's go somewhere farther away!

That way, Lucien can have a peaceful birthday without being disturbed by work or the outside world.

I immediately change my search keywords and start browsing travel guides for long-distance birthday trips.

Suddenly, a relevant news notification pops up on the webpage.

A castle museum owned by a renowned inventor from the last century will soon be open to the public.

In the photo, the historic castle is adorned with falling red leaves in the sunlight, resembling a piece of condensed amber.

I excitedly click on it and discover that, in addition to the open exhibition area, the castle is also available for rent by the square meter.

MC: ...Castle rental?

My eyes light up, and an idea forms in my mind.

✂———————–

When Lucien returns in the evening, I quietly close my laptop and walk to the door with a smile.

MC: Lucien—welcome home~ Ahem, I have a new idea about your birthday!

Lucien takes off his coat and gently embraces me, his eyes reflecting a soft, tranquil smile like the surface of a shallow water.

Lucien: What's the idea?

MC: Heehee, let me give you a hint~ How about we go somewhere far away for your birthday this time, a place with a vintage feel?

A gentle puff of air that seems like a suppressed chuckle reaches my ears, and a thoughtful expression appears on Lucien's face.

Lucien: Hmm... So, how vintage are we talking?

MC: Like, no elevator, and maybe no heating?

Lucien: Sounds like it could be a bit cold. It seems we'll need to pack some warm clothes.

I subconsciously nod, then immediately react.

MC: Wait, you've already agreed?

Lucien: Mm, after all, celebrating a birthday in a castle is a very appealing option.

MC: !!

MC: Hey! I clearly kept it under wraps, I haven’t even booked the tickets yet.... how did you figure it out so quickly?

Lucien's lips curve into a smile as he takes my hand, his index finger gently tapping on the back of my hand.

Lucien: It's probably because... your browsing history is synced to my computer.

✂———————–

[Date]

If you want to follow along with the voice- you can hear it here . The date starts at 14:10

=[Part 1]=

The late autumn sunshine is softened by the clouds, leaping through the glass window and casting a honey-like, mottled glow on the wooden floor.

MC: Mmh…

The cold air wakes me. As I'm about to stretch, my right hand accidentally brushes against something warm and soft.

Lucien lies peacefully beside me, breathing steadily. His brow, furrowed from days of relentless work, finally relaxes as he falls into a deep well of sleep.

We crossed the ocean and arrived at an ancient castle on the Atlantic coast last night.

It is said that this castle was personally designed and built by an inventor from the electrical era. He gifted it to his wife as a wedding present upon its completion.

They fell in love as they settled down at this very place, continuously building love founded on mutual companionship. Here they remained until they eventually passed away together and were laid to rest eternally within the castle grounds.

The profound emotions and story, coupled with the beautiful view of maple leaves and the ancient castle before my eyes, strengthen my resolve to rent this castle.

Amidst the intermingling of light and shadow this early morning, I quietly gaze at Lucien and a soft warmth wells up in my heart.

A hand with defined knuckles encloses my right hand, his palm pressed against the back of my hand, transmitting his body heat.

It's as if he's reluctant to grasp it tightly, yet unwilling to let go, so he just gently cups my hand.

I raise the hand that he isn’t holding, my fingertips hovering at the smallest distance as I trace the outline of his features.

Eyelashes, the bridge of his nose, his lips… until those closed eyelids suddenly quiver and blink lightly.

Lucien slowly opens his eyes, a hint of soft sleepiness lingering in them.

His hold on my hand tightens as he looks at me drowsily, revealing a gentle, soft smile under the sunlight.

I shift my body slightly, blocking the sunlight that's falling into his eyes, then lean down and gently press my cheek against his.

MC: Happy birthday, Professor Lucien~

Lucien: [his sleepy, soft voice is so cute-] Thank you, my little lady.

He tilts his face up, nuzzling affectionately against my cheek. The sunlight falls on his side profile, making him look fluffy.

The strands of his hair tangle with mine, stirring tender and lingering itches.

Lucien: Waking up in a castle and hearing MC's blessing, I must be the happiest person in the world right now.

Lucien: If I were to say there's still something missing, it would probably be...

Lucien: [chuckles] You're right. This castle is indeed quite cold.

His teasing tone makes me unable to resist lifting the corner of my lips. I snuggle closer, resting my cheek on his collarbone and nuzzling against it, warming the slightly cold patch of skin.

After warming up his skin that was exposed to the air, I tilt my face up to look at him.

MC: Being here with you under the covers like this makes it feel just a bit warmer.  

MC: However, getting up and moving around might help warm up our body too.

I wink at Lucien, speaking with a feigned seriousness that makes the matter seem like a big deal.

MC: I’ve decided to leave this difficult decision to the esteemed castle owner. May I ask, what would Your Highness like to do*?

My words are the picture of courtesy, yet I press myself against Lucien, my hand boldly and unreservedly traces his cheek.

His chest, pressed tightly against mine, trembles softly. Lucien takes my fingers, bringing them to his pale lips for a gentle kiss.

Lucien: Since I’m the owner of this castle... then, I want to stay in bed with my girlfriend for a bit longer right now.

He looks at me and blinks, his eyelashes casting a warm shadow on his cheek.

Lucien: [chuckles] Is that okay?

His voice holds a touch of playful mischievousness. I meet those eyes filled with smiles and feel a little dazed.

MC: Of course…

Before I can even finish speaking, I feel his hand tighten around my waist, and I yield as he wraps me back in the blanket again.

From just a breath away, I hear Lucien's long, contented exhale.

Lucien: [chuckles softly, then exhales comfortably] Then stay with me a little longer, let's indulge in bed a bit more.

✂———————–

*: MC playfully used 您 (nin) here, which is like the formal way to say ‘you’. I translate this to ‘Your Highness’ as an attempt to capture this~

✂———————–

=[Part 2]=

We linger in bed until almost noon when Lucien finally 'digs' me out of the warm covers while I’m still drowsy from sleep.

After freshening up, we enjoy the sumptuous and exquisite brunch prepared by the butler.

Before the birthday dinner arrives, we still have a long stretch of leisurely time that we can freely arrange.

Considering this rare opportunity to vacation in the castle, we decide to spend half the day on the castle's lawn.

Late autumn is a season of vibrant colors, and the castle's designer clearly understood this well, planting a row of deciduous trees along the castle's edge.

[Trivia: Deciduous trees are trees that shed their leaves each year in the autumn!]

The lawn remains as green as an antique jade, but the leaves of the trees have already turned yellow, with a backdrop of maple forests ablaze in crimson.

The sunlight is warm, the fallen leaves crunch under my feet, and I can't help but take a deep breath.

MC: Mmm... It's the scent of autumn!

Lucien chuckles softly and, imitating me, takes a gentle breath of the autumn air.

Lucien: [chuckles] The air is so fresh. It must have rained last night; I can smell the petrichor.

MC: Hearing you say that, it feels like even the air today is a fresh gift for you~

I reach out and catch a falling leaf carried by the autumn breeze, gently placing it in Lucien's hand.

MC: Lucien, I want to give you a gift of autumn!

Lucien: A gift of autumn?

Lucien takes the leaf with a slightly puzzled look. I swing his hand gently and give him a wink.

MC: Consider this leaf a humble offering to spark something greater.

MC: I want to use these fallen leaves, flowers, and fruits to make an autumn basket, offering a small gift to today's birthday boy using nature's bounty.

Lucien gently nods in understanding, the curve of his lips remaining unchanged.

Lucien: Even though you're preparing a gift for me, the birthday boy himself is eager to join in too.

Lucien: Or is it that my little lady will only allow me to stand back and do nothing?

As he leans in slightly, his tone carries a hint of seriousness, and his fingertips lightly brush against my palm.

Sunlight sprinkles across his face, and his smiling eyes, framed by the interplay of light and shadow, appear even deeper, revealing a gentle slyness.

MC: Of course I need Professor Lucien's help, but when it comes to the final weaving stage, the birthday boy can't peek~

Lucien: No problem, I will be an honest collaborator.

The autumn wind lifts his hair, creating gentle curves as it sweeps through the strands. I gather his fingers in mine and we step onto the forest path by the castle.

MC: Let's go then, we still need a lot of materials~

In the maple forest during late autumn, fruit trees laden with fruit hide amongst the low bushes, while vibrant beeches with flourishing branches and leaves stand beside the tall oaks.

Purple crocuses peek their delicate buds from the grass, while after the rain, strange fungi unfurl their caps and release spores.

It's like stumbling into an autumn oil painting with bold colors and thick brushstrokes, every glance reveals a colorful and magnificent scenery.

When Lucien picks up a plump acorn, a red squirrel with a fluffy tail scurries out and squeaks at him.

MC: Wow, such a daring little squirrel!

Lucien and I are both taken aback for a moment; this little fellow seems completely unafraid of us.

MC: Is it greeting us, or is it trying to steal the fruit we've picked up?

Lucien seems to already have a way to handle this, a hint of cunningness flashing in his eyes.

He takes a pine cone in his hand and gently dangles it in front of the little squirrel's tail.

Lucien: [chuckles] Little guy, do you want this?

The greedy little squirrel's eyes instantly fixate on the new pine cone, completely captivated by his movement, and it scurries forward a few steps.

It stuffs the pine cone from Lucien's hand into its mouth in one gulp, then hops away with its cheeks puffed out.

Lucien: [chuckles] This maple forest is their world. That pine cone, well, let's just consider it an ‘entry fee'.

Lucien raises his hand again, and when he opens his palm before me, there they are—several even plumper and cuter acorns.

MC: Hold on, turns out you've been secretly keeping all these 'hidden treasures' to yourself!

Lucien: [in an ‘innocent’ tone] After all, my little lady needs these acorns, so I had to find a way to evade those sharp-eared and keen-eyed little fellows.

Though he says this, Lucien shows a relaxed expression, looking like a little fox pretending to be innocent.

The thought of the Great Professor Lucien actually ‘tricking’ a squirrel makes me burst out laughing. I grab his hand and pull him along as I run in the other direction.

MC: Hahaha, Professor Lucien, quick, run with me! Be careful, the little squirrel might go find the squirrel police and report us!

I hold hands with Lucien as we walk through the woods. The surrounding scenery is vibrant with colors, creating the impression of a flowing oil painting.

The air around the sweet osmanthus trees is filled with a sweet fragrance like cotton candy, while black walnuts and red oak acorns roll on the ground.

My pockets are loaded with autumn's ‘spoils’ which keep spilling out as I run, as if they are merging with the forest's hidden mysteries.

Despite these minor incidents, we still manage to gather a basketful of autumn's gifts.

✂———————–

Back indoors, I carry my blessings for Lucien and patiently weave them together.

Leaves and fruits gradually take shape in my hands, carrying small heartfelt wishes, preserving the warmth and liveliness of autumn.

And then, I find Lucien by the window.

He seems to have just come inside, a hint of coldness still clinging to him, but when he turns and looks back at me, a gentle smile quickly spreads across his face.

I smile and lift the basket of fruits and flowers with both hands as if I'm holding all the beauty of autumn.

MC: This castle’s most beautiful autumn is all right here! Here, it's all yours—

MC: I hope every day of your future can be as complete, fulfilling, and beautiful as this~

Lucien's eyes curve into a smile as he takes the basket.  Suddenly, I feel a touch of moist coolness against my ear.

Through the glass window, I see him quietly tuck a vibrant Cleome flower into my hair.

Lucien: Thank you, I really like these autumn gifts.

Lucien: But for me, the most beautiful part of autumn is right here before my eyes.

Lucien: She blooms year after year, staying by my side, and leaving me utterly captivated*.

✂———————–

[T/N]

I think the Cleome Spinosa flower, also known as 醉蝶花 ("intoxicated butterfly") carries symbolic meaning. When Lucien gives her this particular flower, it reflects his emotions about her. The final line (她年复一年地盛开,陪在我的身边,令我沉醉其中 — literally translated as "She blooms year after year, staying by my side, and leaving me intoxicated") directly connects to the "intoxicating" (醉) in the flower's name with the word 沉醉 (immersed in a state of intoxication) in the last line, which combines 沉 (to sink or immerse) and 醉 (to be drunk or intoxicated).

沉醉 conveys the emotional nuances of being utterly captivated, deeply enchanted, and overwhelmed in a consuming, blissful way. This imagery mirrors the 'intoxicated butterfly' of the flower, as if he's the 'intoxicated butterfly', utterly captivated and completely consumed by her existence.

✂———————–

=[Part 3]=

It's past dusk, and the sunlight is as golden and radiant as freshly harvested honey. Outside the window, a vast expanse of red maple trees sways in harmony with the evening breeze, whispering a soft melody. Leaves flutter and dance their way into the room every now and then.

I rub my arms, for even this gentle and beautiful scenery can’t stop the temperature from dropping as night falls.

MC: Uh... It feels even colder than it did this morning.

Just then, the sound of rolling wheels comes from behind me. Lucien approaches, pushing a small wooden cart, a plush shawl in his hand.

Lucien: I found a pretty good way to warm up, want to give it a try?

He gently wraps a shawl around me, and I comfortably nuzzle against his warm and cozy neck.

MC: I'm all ears to hear the esteemed opinions of the castle's owner!

Lucien smiles mysteriously, holds my hand, and pushes the cart as we walk together to a door leading underground.

MC: This is... a wine cellar?

Lucien: I think it would be more ceremonial if we chose the wine list ourselves tonight.

He lights the two oil lamps that were prepared in advance. Each of us carries one, and we slowly move forward through the rich aroma of oak barrels.

According to the butler, the wine cellar was recently ventilated.  

Yet, perhaps the overwhelming aroma of wine saturates the air, walking inside makes me feel a bit stifled. I even feel slightly intoxicated just from the scent, before even having a sip.

Besides me, only Lucien still carries the fresh and crisp scent of grass and trees from when we were gathering fruits and fallen leaves.

It feels like he is the only antidote in this dim room filled with the floating aroma of wine.

Red maple leaves, the wine cellar, the wine itself… memories from the past seem to overlap at this moment.

Suddenly, I recall the winery we visited long ago.

The memory of the autumn stained red by the maple leaves has brought with it the restlessness and infatuation of the past, spilling out from the bottom of my heart without any reason...

It's as if my lips still retain the feeling of his touch when he wiped away the wine stain for me, making my heartbeat inexplicably quicken. Just then, I catch sight of Lucien gently placing a bottle of wine into the cart.

MC: Professor Lucien, what kind of wine did you choose?

Lucien: Riesling white wine.

Lucien turns the bottle around to show me.

Lucien: When I got the cart, the butler knew I was going to the wine cellar and recommended this castle's specialty to me.

Lucien: And you?

I suppress the excitement in my heart and wink at him mysteriously.

MC: Hmph, you'll find out soon enough.

The light and soft aroma of white wine fills the air, and even the candles on the wall seem intoxicated by the wine's fragrance, their flames gently flickering.  

Under the twilight dome of the sky, the shadows of the wine rack and stone walls sway gracefully in the flickering firelight.  

Lucien and I sit at a small table nearby, two crystal-clear glasses already filled with wine, exuding a faintly tipsy aura.  

After two glasses of Riesling, I feel warmth spreading through my body and let out a satisfied sigh.

MC: Ahh, so comfortable... I don't feel cold at all anymore~ As expected of the wine Professor Lucien chose.

Lucien: [chuckles] Would you like some more?

I smile and shake my head, winking at him mysteriously.

MC: First, let's try the wine I picked~

I open the bottle of wine I selected and pour a glass for Lucien, sneaking a glance at his face from the corner of my eye.  

The candlelight cast a soft filter over him, concealing his keen and contemplative eyes, which revealed a soft glow under the haze of the wine.

He parts his pale lips, gently swallows the wine, and seems to be momentarily dazed.

MC: How is it?

I can barely contain my anticipation as I watch his brow smooth slightly, relaxing further after taking in the wine.

Confusion and surprise flit through his gentle eyes, before swiftly transforming into a clear understanding.

Lucien:  ...This flavor is very unique, and yet also very familiar.

Lucien: It's sweet and tender, yet with a touch of bitterness and complexity*.

[Notes from Lux: He copied her remark from back then, word by word :”””. 纠结 is a tricky word to translate because it literally means “intertwined”/”tangled”. But figuratively, it implies a kind of intertwined, tangled feeling, commonly describing a state of emotional or mental conflict, where someone feels torn between different choices or is experiencing confusion and hesitation (a.k.a the state of the earlier stage of their relationship-). I went with ‘complexity’ to capture some nuances, but it might not capture this ‘entangling’ feeling.]

The complex yet familiar remark sends a rush of emotions through me. Just as I’m thinking about what to say, Lucien smiles.

Lucien: But when I savor it again, I feel a warmth, like that of sunshine and rain—a delicate, pleasant warmth.

The familiar words stir a trace of emotion in my heart, and in a daze, it feels as if the autumn equinox of that year has arrived at this very moment.

He still remembers—this is the same bottle of wine I tasted back when we were just getting to know each other, during our visit to Eileen's winery for an interview.

My fingertips unconsciously rub against the bottle, and my thoughts follow my gaze to the red maple trees bathed in the evening glow.

Back then, it was also the season when the maples were crimson and the flowers were in full bloom...

A maple leaf, as if on cue, is swayed by the evening breeze and drifts toward me. I instinctively reach out, and the leaf gently lands in my palm.

It feels as though the early days of tentative exploration and the subtle sweetness of that time have traveled with the falling leaf, arriving here in this foreign land at this moment.

Lucien: I remember, on the way to the winery, I mentioned Maple Road. We ended up going there together.

Lucien: On Maple Road, we read a poetry collection together and visited a maple sugar shack.

Lucien: Later, I drew a picture of you collecting maple leaves. That drawing even ended up in an exhibition...

The rippling light of the wine in the crystal glass reflects on him, even his gaze holds tender memories.

Lucien speaks calmly, his memories unfolding like a heavy book, slowly opening before me with the sound of his voice.

The bond beneath the red maple tree and the feelings growing in the vineyard, word by word, moment by moment, intertwine and become etched into our story-

Only those who created it together can turn its pages and retrieve each other's anchors from the endless flow of time.

My heart is stirred, subtly and uncontrollably. I can't help but rush into Lucien's arms, hugging him tightly.

MC: I remember too.

MC: Not just these things you've mentioned... everything about you, I remember it all.

MC: So after today, Professor Lucien should also update this birthday into all our autumn memories.

His chest pressed close to me, trembles slightly. A warm, gentle kiss falls on my forehead, soft and cherishing.

Lucien: Such beautiful memories, I don't seem to have any reason to let them fade away.

I lift my face joyfully and gently kiss his chin.  

We have already experienced countless stories through many autumns and celebrated each of his birthdays.

And I also want to write down promises with him for each and every autumn in the future, continuing on for a very, very long time.

MC: Then it's a promise!

Lucien smiles faintly and lifts me up with one hand, his gentle gaze meeting mine at eye level.

Lucien: [chuckles] However, if I want to make the anchor of this ‘memory’ even more profound, I still need to gather a bit of inspiration…

The remaining of his words are lost into our mingling breaths, replaced by a crisp kiss tinged with the scent of wine.

This kiss is gentle and intoxicating, leaving me somewhat tipsy, though not from the effects of alcohol.

Perhaps it's because the youthful and inexperienced flavor of that past has long since mixed with the passionate love that has matured over time…

Blending and growing, pulling me deeply into it.

✂———————–

=[Part 4]=

The twilight gradually fades into the night, and the bright moon quietly hangs in the autumn night, illuminating the still dazzling and fiery red maple leaves.

Lucien and I are still sitting at the table, enjoying the tranquility, when a sudden coldness brushes against my cheek.

I raise my head and realize, without noticing it, that snowflakes have already begun drifting down from the sky. Just then, I hear Lucien's smiling voice beside me.

Lucien: It seems that today's ‘gifts’ are not over yet.

MC: After all, today is your birthday—the whole world will be sending you blessings~

Our gazes meet, and with a tacit understanding, we both set down our glasses and take each other's hands.

Lucien: Then, can I invite my ‘world’ to go out with me and experience this beauty together?

In the courtyard, rustling red maples intertwine with falling snowflakes, as if autumn and winter themselves are completing their handover at this very moment.

We get an umbrella from the butler and hold hands as we follow the stone path down the hill from the old castle.

The moonlight on a snowy night grows brighter as we walk side by side to the small town at the foot of the hill, where the houses and streetlights are all covered in a delicate layer of snowflakes.

On the streets of the small town, many people, like Lucien and I, stroll under the moonlight, accompanied by the backdrop of the first snowfall, tacitly enjoying this tranquil night.

I turn my head to look at Lucien and find him reaching out his hand, gently catching a falling snowflake.

His eyes curve faintly, as if harboring some kind of quiet longing, even carrying a touch of rare childlike innocence.

MC: [smiles softly] Why does it feel like Professor Lucien has a special fondness for this snow?

My tone holds a hint of curiosity, wanting to capture this rare glimpse of his innocence. Lucien smiles and begins to speak softly.

Lucien: [softly, like recalling a cherished memory] Just remembered a movie I watched when I was little. I remember... it was about an inventor who lived in a castle.

Lucien: After watching it as a child, there was a time when I also wanted to be an inventor with a castle.

My eyes widen in a bit of surprise.

MC: [pouts] I can understand wanting to be an inventor, but why did it have to be one who lives in a castle…

MC: Professor Lucien, could it be that you're teasing me on purpose just because we came to a castle this year?

Lucien: [chuckles] Of course not. But if this story will make this little lady happy, I’d be more than willing to tell it to you.

MC: I want to hear it, I want to hear it!

I enthusiastically put on an attentive look, Lucien smiles as he begins to speak.

Lucien: Actually, the reason for wanting to own a castle is quite simple.

Lucien: Because that way, just like the main character in the movie, I could have a space of my own to carry out those daring and even dangerous experiments.

Lucien: And my parents could also accompany me in the castle, pursuing the research they are deeply passionate about.

Lucien: That way, they wouldn’t have to be 'trapped' in the lab all the time.

Lucien speaks naturally, his voice imbued with a soft smile, yet it's as if a tiny window is being opened.

Through that window, I seem to see a little Lucien, his eyes sparkling with fascination as he watches the movie, his heart filled with simple and pure longing.

My heart suddenly softens, and I can’t help but smile tenderly as I start to speak.

MC: The dream of becoming an inventor could now be considered halfway realized~

MC: After all, Professor Lucien is a great scientist walking at the forefront of humanity—it’s perhaps even more remarkable than that!

MC: As for the castle... you've been the ‘owner of the castle’ for a day today, does that count?

Lucien: [chuckles] Of course it counts. And now, there’s even the first snowfall.

He takes my slightly cold hand and slips it in his pocket, softly rubbing it.

Lucien: I can no longer recall the plot of that movie very well. But I do remember that on the day we watched it, it also snowed in Loveland City.

Lucien: That day, they finished work early and brought home the videotape of that movie.

Lucien: The movie ended with the town welcoming its first snowfall, and we also stepped outside together to enjoy the snowy world.

He speaks vaguely, but I understand everything.

His low voice feels especially serene on this snowy night, yet as he speaks, another scene unfolds before my eyes.

When his room flooded before, he tidied up those old videotapes and set them aside, placing them carefully in a separate spot.

Is this old movie among those tapes?

As he put away the videotapes, did he recall that ancient castle and that warm snowfall?

I don’t know the answer, but I can feel that those fleeting, rarely mentioned fragments of his past were once so distant and cold.

But now, those precious fragments have thawed like melting ice and snow, filled with nostalgia and warmth as they slowly flow.

I instinctively tighten my hold on his hand.

The first snowfall is falling thicker and thicker, yet it isn't biting cold. Snowflakes gently drift past the edge of the umbrella, landing on the tips of my hair and forehead, as well as Lucien's.

It's as if this world is bestowing its blessings on Lucien in the most gentle way.

MC: Even though it's many years late, it seems that we've now made little Lucien's childhood dream come true.

With a chuckle, Lucien's low voice reaches me through the wind and snow.

Lucien: [chuckles] Indeed, so I was quite surprised, but also delightfully so.

Lucien: However, if it weren’t for this twist of fate, perhaps I wouldn’t have thought of this idea again for a very, very long time.

Lucien: [softly] Because I've long had something far more important.

Lucien: To me, those forgotten thoughts are more like a bottle of wine hidden in a cellar.

MC: Wine?

Lucien: Mm, just like the wine we’re drinking today.

Lucien: Grapes can never return to their original form, but time makes them richer and more mellow, and they will always meet someone who knows how to cherish them.

Lucien: She will give me a castle, stay in bed with me, treasure an entire autumn with me... and walk with me through quiet streets on snowy nights.

A snowflake quietly lands on his eyelashes and melts a moment later. It’s as if the melted droplets seep into my heart, creating ripples of sweet warmth.

I can't help but speak softly, offering all my blessings to my beloved standing before me under the moonlight of this snowy night.

MC: Happy birthday, Lucien.

May each and every year of your future be surrounded with love as you move forward.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*FIN*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[Bonus Phone call]

Lucien: I received the email you sent. Looks like it has some intel about a birthday.

MC: Yes! It's a text-based open-source game I found online. I modified it a bit~

MC: You can start from age 0 and randomly generate the 'life' of a little Lucien!

Lucien: Mm, just now, I've already completed two endings.

Lucien: The first time, little Lucien was accidentally captured by an alien spacecraft at the age of three and left Earth forever.

Lucien: The second time, little Lucien received a mysterious admission letter at the age of sixteen. No one knows where he went.

[Aren't these just a reflection of his past??? from being kidnapped by BS to mysteriously disappearing hhhhh]

MC: Haha, is the game’s random value design too harsh? Maybe I should tweak it a bit...

Lucien: No need, I really like this level of difficulty. It’s precisely this randomness that makes it so interesting to me.

Lucien: I’ve just started my third playthrough. This time, I’ve decided to reallocate some of the 15 points I gave to intelligence and assign some to luck.

[Not this basically saying that his genius may be the reason for his unluckiness in life :""". His 'luck' in life is that he's able to met her]

MC: So Professor Lucien had been putting all the points into one stat before! No wonder you kept having such over-the-top mysterious experiences...

Lucien: I just subconsciously wanted to test the limits of this little game, and unexpectedly made real discoveries.

Lucien: Although these endings greatly increased the game's replayability, this time, I want to make the game last a bit longer.

Lucien: That way, perhaps I can meet you in the game as well.

MC: Hehe, you can look forward to it!

MC: So, how's it going? What age did you reach in your third playthrough?

Lucien: …Hmm, I've already invented the elixir of immortality and reached the age of two hundred, but I still haven't encountered you.

Lucien: Am I on the right track?

MC: Pfft! I did set up an encounter, but I didn't set an age limit, thinking it would slightly increase replayability...

MC: I feel like I might have overdone it...

Lucien: It’s okay. In the game, little Lucien has already met you—at the age of five hundred.

Lucien: Then, on his birthday, we confessed to each other at the same time and spent a happy life together.

[Man so love-brained that he creates an immortality elixir and stubbornly waits a long time to finally meet her LOL. In this way, it can be said that his current life might be the 'luckiest' possibility because it allows him to meet her so soon]

MC: Hahaha, that's good, that's good... So, do you like this "life path" of becoming an inventor?

Lucien: I like it. I like everything and my destined encounter with you.

Lucien: I’ll be home soon, and when I get there, I’d like to invite you to explore all the other possibilities for little Lucien together—

Lucien: And explore every moment I spent with you on this birthday.

[aroacettorney]

au where bretus kindom took marias selmore as hostage to blackmail casey and have her track down heathcliff van bretus for them

[comixandco]

there’s an alternate universe out there where when you reach the sanctum in totk when “zelda” does her little cutscene she ends it by throwing a dagger at you and it whistles just past link’s head as he reacts in shock before readying himself for battle and then you regain control of him as a boss bar appears at the top of the screen that reads “Puppet Zelda, Twisted Memory”

and Link is forced to fight the one he swore he would protect and has been chasing after the entire game, and instead of a sage offering him warnings or encouragement the Zelda belittles him and accuses him of abandoning her and failing her and leaving her to die

and her attacks at the beginning of the fight are those bursts of bright light and the daggers but as you whittle down her health and begin stage two the facade begins to slip and the light bursts are replaced with darkness and she oozes gloom wherever she moves and her movements become more stiff and skeletal and broken

and then once you’ve defeated her she rises into the air all broken and limp but still looking at you and says that it doesn’t matter that she wasn’t zelda because zelda is still gone, trapped in the past with no way to come home she could be burried anywhere in hyrule, and she summons a dark bow of light and draws it back as a red-purple bulging mass begins to form at the arrow tip

and that’s when the sages turn up, sidon unleashing a wave that pushes the bow aside, tulin firing an arrow that riju uses to cast down lightning, and yunobo at link’s side, and they all have their own line of dialogue that boils down to ‘don’t worry link, there’s no way that’s zelda, she would never say those horrible things, and we know she’s still out there because you heard her true voice, so don’t lose hope!’

and then zelda dissolves into gloom with a fit of that uncanny laughter and that’s when that megamind-style ganondorf head appears and makes his whole speech about how they have no idea who he is or was and you get his memory and that he has waited all his imprisonment to battle against link and prove that he is the strongest in hyrule, ‘and then you will fall, link, as rauru and zelda did, knowing that hyrule falls with you. Come to the Depths beneath this wretched castle, and meet your fate, o destined hero.’

and then the zelda-gloom melts away into a heart, and the sages have that post-battle talk about re-grouping at lookout landing, and tell link not to do anything rash because they will find the real zelda together

[kratosnaturals]

Finally finished and proof read my first truly long chapter of 8.6K+ words and I am sleepy and tired and worn out and

[safyresky]

Me: I'm gonna do so much after I shower!

Me one shower later: (gets sad, falls asleep on couch, wakes up three hours later like WHAT)

[arolesbianism]

We did it boys we got our first game crash in oni 🎉

[pallases]

urghdjf i need an interest to just absolutely throw myself into

[salemlunaa]

☀︎ YOU’RE NOT BEING PRODUCTIVE, YOU’RE LAZY AND AFRAID ☀︎

And this will cost you a lot of time that could be spent with your desires…

You have all the information, why aren’t you applying. You tell me you have been in this community for 6 months, a year, 2 years+, but how many of those days you’ve spent in this community have you actually applied, how many of those nights did you actually apply and don’t just fall asleep after 5 seconds.

And i know why you’re lazy, it’s because you’re scared, you’re scared of inducing process, whether it be success or failure. You make yourself busy with scripts and subliminals, “i’ll script this really cool thing first”, “i’ll scroll a little on tumblr first” “lemme just look at the success story hashtag before i do it, it really motivates me” You try and distract your self, you delude yourself into thinking you’re being productive but really you don’t want to, if you wanted to you wouldn’t be here and I will ALWAYS stand by that. You put it off until the last minute and then when it “doesn’t work” you run back to tumblr acting like you actually did anything.

a really good analogy from @archsariel333 - “you buy the pens, the notebook, you plan for the book you’re going to write but, you never write it”

“let me just add this one thing to the plan”, “let me look at inspo for book covers and art styles for illustration”, “let me go to my book writers group on tumblr and see if they have anymore advice for me even tho i know how to write a fucking book”

I know it’s comforting and validating to be in the “waiting period”, the period of anticipation. You want to go shopping for a vacation, pack your suitcase, look at reviews on social media, plan the pics you’re going to take, but getting on the actual plane can be scary, you ask yourself “what if they deny my boarding pass”, “what if i fail to make it on time”, “what if im not eligible to fly for whatever reason”, you don’t want to leave your comforting circumstances and even the trip itself scares you just a little, so you cope by buying all the vacation outfits in the world, saving inspo pics into a pinterest board, looking at vlogs of other people going to that place. You can’t bring yourself to get on the fucking plane.

You need to apply, and properly, 2024 is almost over, the amount of weeks we have left isn’t even in the double digits anymore, I don’t want you to make it to the end of this DECADE still keeping the tumblr “foryou” page company, watching people coming and going feeling paralysed as people who came here later than you pass you by. I know the feeling sucks but whose fault is that?

I want you to scrap the amount you’ve been here. Since you’re the operant power right? I don’t care how many weeks, months, years you’ve been here, scrap it, you’re going to start afresh and you’re going to actually apply, when you have the time, you’re not going to go back to your notes app, notion or pinterest to script some more, you’re going to apply.

A lot of you have the knowledge that majority of the world doesn’t and time on your hands, do you know how powerful and extremely fortunate you are, to have time AND knowledge? i don’t think alot of you understand how much of a privilege that is you are unstoppable yet you stop yourself out of fear that you will “fail” to tap into the void and let yourself down. You are so privileged to know what you know and to have the time to apply it, so do it, your not gonna scroll on tiktok for a few more minutes or shove a million subliminals down your throat to “prep yourself” you’re just going to take a breath and do it. Induce pure consciousness, and if you fall asleep scrap that assumption and do it again.

Look at your life right now, do you honestly like it, do you like envying others for having what you can have at the snap of your fingers. Do you like the life you are living?

I want you to tell yourself that you will not be the reason for your own demise. you will NOT be the reason that it’s 2026,27,28 and so on and you don’t have what you want.

please just go and apply, i don’t even know you guys and it hurts watching you kill time when you could’ve had everything a day ago, an hour ago heck even 5 minutes ago.

apply apply apply, don’t let this feeling be the reason you “fail” 💋🍑

[monst]

Tim Drake:

- is the type of mf to ask you to marry him by listing out all the benefits 💀

Extra Info: Tim Drake x Gn. Reader, Scenario.

Warnings: None

 “Did you know..” Your fingers stop typing at his pause. When he doesn’t continue you turn your head to see him already looking at you. Suspicious red blotting his cheeks when he clears his throat. 

      “Did I know?” You press.

      “Did you know that if we got married, you’d get quite a lot out of it.” He notes. He watches as your brows furrow and steamrolls ahead with what he thinks is the perfect persuasive argument. “Think about it, You’d have access to my rather sizable funds.” He briefly wonders if he hit the correct humorous tone, he really doesn’t want to come across as bragging right now. 

     “Y-you’d have an excellent health insurance plan courtesy of Wayne enterprises, of course, Tax deductions, IRA benefits, w-we’d get lots of discounts?” He lists. 

       His blue eyes search yours to see if any of those have caught your interest. You continue to look at him befuddled. “I have a life insurance policy too” He quickly adds. “So if I die on you, you’ll be all taken care of?” His tone falters when your eyes meet again. Vertigo hits him when your lips quirk up and his mind is overrun with how you’ll deny him. 

     “You’re not even my husband yet and you’re already talking about leaving me widowed.” You joke. The tension in his shoulders melts at your smile and he returns it with a bashful one.

       “I’ll try not to go too soon..” He huffs “..but what do you think?” He asks. You swivel your chair to face him properly and he grows nervous at your widening grin. “You know I might’ve considered it buuttt your bargain is missing something kinda important~.” 

      His heart almost stops but when his brain catches up to your words he blurts out a quick “What?!” Anything!

      “You, you dummy. All that other stuff is okay I guess but, do I get you?” 

      “Oh….” He exclaims softly. Mind blanking on how he’d forgotten to even mention himself. He’s idly playing with his fingers when he replies, face too hot to look at you “Yeah, You’d get me too... If you want me, that is.” 

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ my life with you (that’s way over now)

synopsis. some people get drunk calls from their exes, maybe even flowers with hand written apologies. you get a knock on your front door with two random kids and a murder case

length. 3.0k words (once more it was supposed to be short)

contents. exes to lovers, ex boyfriend! suguru, gn! reader, slightly deviated from canon (he doesn’t kill the entire village + doesn’t defect), slightly a fix-it fic, blood, murder, child abuse + neglect (canon events with suguru and the twins), angst to slight fluff with hopeful ending (pretty much happy tbh), mentions of family + kids, suguru pretty much being a broke and depressed lil guy lollll

notes. idk what this is but it was written for me i just wanted to write it so here. take it and look away

right before you graduate, you and suguru break up. you don’t want to, but he insists it’s only fair—he can hardly be there for you the way you need him to be, he says. something’s changed in him, it has since that day last year. but still—you don’t want to break up.

so you argue, he stays firm, you cry, he doesn’t change his mind, you break up, he leaves, and the world momentarily collapses.

it’s the way things work, you suppose. they don’t quite always go the way you planned. you graduate not long after that, leaving him behind to throw yourself into work while you toe into the baby steps of adulthood. real adulthood—the jujutsu world has a way of thrusting you into that faster than normal, anyway.

by the time it’s late summer, you get your first apartment. it’s a rundown place—the bathroom tiles look dirty no matter how much you scrub, the walls haven’t been repainted in what seems like decades, and the thermostat never works properly to feel like what the temperature indicates.

but it’s yours—you leave jujutsu high fresh into the real world, paying your taxes and buying your groceries all while you exorcise curses for a living. barely an adult, barely getting by, barely alive as you get up each day and live.

and then suguru comes knocking on your door half past midnight.

“hey,” he says nonchalantly, like there’s nothing wrong with standing there—but you know him better than that. you can hear that detachment in his voice as he stares between your eyes, but not quite in them.

“you—” you start, staring at him incredulously before you decide to give up. there are no surprises with suguru, not anymore you suppose. you don’t really know him anymore. “suguru, it’s midnight,” you sigh—and that’s when you see them: two small children that can’t be much older than five.

bruises are clear as day on their arms, even while standing in the darkness outside. there’s also the slight swollen curve of their eyes, and you can’t help but notice how they’re practically skin and bone. children who have probably not yet even lived for five winters, and you almost wonder if they’ve been through more than you have in you’re entire lifetime.

suguru clears his throat before you can stare at them any longer.

“this is nanako,” he gestures at the blonde, “and this is mimiko.” the brunette one seems more shy, curls behind his leg further as her name is uttered.

you don’t know what to say, so you settle for smiling—you’re not sure if it comes out too genuine, but you try. it’s all you can offer, really.

“hello,” you hum for a moment. and then you turn back to suguru, “it’s midnight.”

“i know.”

“you should be at school grounds.”

“i know.”

“suguru,” you sigh, eyeing the blood stained on his cheek. you don’t like where this is heading. there’s a sick feeling twisting in your gut, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling.

bile. you can taste it. something’s not right.

“where did you find these kids?”

“on a mission,” he says simply, “village heads were keepin’ em locked in a cage like animals. can you believe it?”

again, that casual tone. it almost as easy as humming your favorite tune, as smooth as your skin on freshly washed sheets, as quiet as the first day of snow when the world is still. but something about it is hollow—something’s not right.

“why’d you bring them here? instead of school? shoko should look at them—”

“i told them they’d be safe here.”

they’d be safe anywhere, you think. as long as suguru’s there too. as long they’re under his watchful gaze, nothing could hope to beat down on their youth like it already has their whole lives. but you don’t say that—something tells you he won’t believe you.

maybe not right now.

you don’t look at him. you can’t. something’s not right, but there are children present. so you throw on your best smile and open the door wider, offering them to come in.

your apartment is small, just one bedroom and one bath. there’s hardly enough food for yourself for tonight, you still have to go grocery shopping this week. the missions were lined up back to back to back—but that’s just life as a sorcerer, you suppose. most days you hardly have the energy to eat more than a few apple slices when you return home anyway.

you wave your hand at your place dramatically as you say, “come on in, ladies. your humble abode awaits.”

they giggle slightly at that—it’s the first time suguru hears them laugh. you have that effect, he knew you would. it’s why he brings them here and not there. and…well, there’s a more complicated issue at hand. but that’s for later.

right now…well, for right now, he lets you guide them to the bathroom.

“you have money on you right?” you ask. he blinks, staring at you for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

“spent the last of it on cigarettes this morning.”

great, you think, before sighing and trudging over to grab your wallet as you press a few crisp bills of cash in his hands.

“here.”

“what’s this for?” he raises a brow.

“go buy them clothes,” you look at him like he’s stupid. he might be, in all honesty. just a little. “i’m not putting them back in…those once they’re all cleaned.”

“wha—i’ve never shopped for children before,” he gapes, “and i don’t know what size they are, or—”

“figure it out, suguru,” you say tiredly. it’s half past midnight—by now, you’d be passed out from your mission. he seems to take the hint. “and bring some snacks too. should be enough.”

“fine,” he grumbles—and then he’s walking out the door.

for a second, it feels familiar watching him leave. but then you decide not to dwell on it—there are much more important matters at hand.

you turn to the two girls before crouching in front of them with a gentle smile, “who’s ready for bubbles?”

——————

nanako and mimiko have never had a bubble bath before. you decide to let them taste the first tendrils of youth by splashing in your tiny bathtub while you find suguru for some much needed answers.

he sits on your couch, shirt wrinkled and hair falling loose and blood still staining his cheek as he hunches over his legs, elbows resting on his thighs as he thinks. and thinks. and thinks and thinks and thinks.

you wonder about what—what could be plaguing his mind? a lot you’re sure, but this isn’t suguru. not the one you know, at least.

the one you knew, the voice in your mind hisses—do you really even know him at all anymore?

“so,” you sit on the opposite side of the sofa, curling your legs under yourself as you eye him from the side, “care to explain?”

“i killed them,” he mutters. you go still. “the village heads. i did it without hesitating. that’s bad, right?”

“well fuck, suguru,” you breathe, restless, “that’s certainly not good.”

“i had a reason,” he argues, “all i needed was one.”

“there’s nothing that excuses murder—”

“oh, but we can excuse locking kids in cages, is that right? why? cause they’re sorcerers? they’re not—they’re children.”

“i didn’t say that,” you rub your forehead. this is all too much. too, too much.

being a sorcerer is too much. being in front of suguru is too much.

you finish your third year with a broken heart and graduate in spring—at one point you’d hoped graduating wouldn’t change anything between you and your friends, between you and the boy you loved. everything would be the same, even if you’d leave the place that held you all together—you’d still find a way back to each other, you liked to think. but then it all changes before you can even comprehend.

haibara is dead. nanami is hardly coping. gojo is everywhere but here. shoko is in high demand. suguru is hardly present even when he’s right in front of you. nothing is the same and you don’t think it ever will be. you lose the one thing you count on being yours forever, and now, he’s right here again. but not really here—not with you so much as near you.

suguru has killed people, sitting on your couch with you while the two children he finds are bathing happily in your bathtub.

there’s some irony in that—maybe in a perfect world, suguru and you would sit on the couch, much happier than right now, though. maybe you’d be tucked under his arm and curled into his side as you both chuckle at the happy squeals in the distance. maybe in a perfect world.

but this world is cruel. too cruel, in fact. it forces children to grow up too fast during some times and lets adults continue to be children during others. it’s sickening and all too much.

but this is the world you live in. there’s not much to change in that—not much you can change. maybe sitting on the couch with suguru is what you should be grateful for, whether it’s in this world or another.

“i came here because it’s safe,” he mumbles, quieter this time, “i don’t…i didn’t trust anywhere else.”

something tells you he’s not talking about the kids. you look at him for the first time that night—really look at him. you take in the lost weight, the sunken cheekbones and the bruised under eyes from the lack of sleep. the cracked lips from being chapped and the dry hair that’s lost its normal shine.

something’s not right—you won’t be able to mend it, but you think you can keep it from getting worse.

“it is safe here,” you murmur, nodding in assurance, “but you can’t…i can’t let you do that. not again.”

“what? kill people?” he snorts in dry amusement. it’s quiet for a bit—you open your mouth a few times like you want to say something, but nothing ever comes. he finally decides to fill the silence. “i don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. people shouldn’t kill. but some people shouldn’t live.”

“i think jujutsu is supposed to save people. not everyone will deserve it, but i suppose we wouldn’t be much better than them if we used it for anything other than that,” you whisper. he looks over at you at that, peers at you deep in thought as he contemplates your words.

“that’s funny,” he chuckles, “i used to think that too.”

“what changed?”

“everything.”

“then change it some more,” you shrug, “until you think it again.” he looks at you incredulously at that, eyeing you like you’re crazy.

“you’re an idiot,” he scoffs.

“says the killer,” you scoff back. you look at him this time, in the eyes and full of conviction, full of promises you couldn’t make before but fully intend to keep now. “don’t kill anyone else and i’ll help you. with those kids, i mean.”

“you want to co parent with me?” he chuckles.

co parent—the word makes your stomach twist. even after all this time, after all the hurt and pain, suguru is easy to imagine that with. he’s easy to imagine anything in the future with, really. he’s always been perfect like that, but you’re starting to realize there’s a lot more imperfections to him than you initially thought.

but it’s okay, you think. if you didn’t stop loving him before, you certainly don’t stop now. blood on his hands or not, he’s yours—even if he doesn’t want to be.

“don’t say it like that,” you murmur softly, hugging your arms around yourself, “please.”

you let yourself be vulnerable for just a moment—not because you want to, but because he needs to know. he needs to know how unfair he’s being and how patient you are with him despite it all. you deserve that much.

“sorry,” he mutters—he has the decency to look away and drop his smile.

“you don’t kill anyone, and i’ll look for a bigger place. deal?”

“for us…all?”

“yes. just until you figure it out, i’ll help you out with them. and then you’ll responsibly use your paycheck as a full time special grade sorcerer and maybe send a few checks my way to say thanks to my good will.”

he chuckles at that, shaking his head. “i’ll repay you,” he hums, tapping his foot. he does that when he’s nervous, you still remember—you could never forget anything about him. “i…i owe you, anyway.”

it’s quiet some more. you don’t know what to say, and quite frankly, you don’t want to say anything at all. but once more, he fills the silence for you after a while.

“what if…” he starts, “what if i want to co parent with you?”

“you dumped me,” you point out, unable to hide the bitterness any longer. it cracks from your tongue through your words like honey that went dry. “remember that? cause i sure remember.”

you’re an adult now, just barely, but an adult all the same. you should handle this the mature way—but you’re still young. still hurt. still blanketed in the fresh wave of nostalgia that leaves you aching with grief.

so you let yourself be bitter. suguru can handle that much after he left you to pick up your shattered pieces.

“i didn’t want to,” he says quietly. “i never wanted to.”

“but you did.”

“i didn’t…you didn’t deserve to see me unstable.”

“you’re not very stable right now either,” you pinch your nose tiredly, “you killed people, suguru. but somehow you can manage to have two kids now. but not me.”

“they need me,” he defends.

“i needed you too,” your voice cracks.

you did. you needed him—and you like to think he needed you too. maybe it wasn’t perfect, nothing ever is, especially not when you fight curses and see their ugliness every day. but that’s the best part of having each other—having something pretty amidst the hideousness.

he left you with more ugly than you knew what to do with. it’s unfair, you think for a moment, unfair that two girls who hardly know him at all have more of him than you ever did. he’d never abandon them—that much you know for sure.

you’ve laughed with him, held him and wiped his tears and kissed him under the moon until it became the sun. you’ve seen him with his hair down and his guard lowered. you’ve seen him in every way possible but in the end, he walked away.

they’ve seen him for less than a day and somehow, he’ll be there forever. there’s something unfair about that and you hate that you’re bitter with children but the world in cruel like that.

suguru slowly inches over—it’s cautious at first, and then he fills the gap all at once. you pretend you don’t feel the way your thighs touch.

“i need you too,” he admits, voice small. there’s a small, shaky crack that eats away at your heart, trying to gnaw into the raw part. the easy to reach part. the part you shouldn’t let him see anymore. “i…i always needed you. i’m sorry.”

“we were supposed to need each other,” you sniffle.

“we do,” he slowly slumps his head onto your shoulder. you let him stay there—don’t dare move a muscle in case he pulls away. “you’re the only thing that keeps me stable. i don’t think that’s fair.”

“needing someone isn’t unfair, suguru,” you scoff.

“okay,” he grabs your hand, squeezing. for the first time, he lets it all go. lets tears slowly slip from the corners of his eyes as he slumps into your side. he cries for riko. for kuroi. for satoru and the time he lost him for a moment. for their youth. for haibara. for not being enough even when he shouldn’t have had to be. somewhere amidst all that, your arms wrap around him and he’s pulled into your chest—that familiar feeling of your fingers threading into his hair makes the world start spinning again. “i need you,” he chokes.

“okay,” you say shakily, nodding slowly as you let yourself hope, “as long as you don’t stop this time.”

he buries his face into your chest, and you kiss the crown of his head.

cruelty is an unstoppable force. your love for suguru is an immovable object. neither is going anywhere, but perhaps they can coexist.

“satoru’s gonna have a massive headache when he explains this one to the higher ups,” you snort after a while.

he laughs into your shirt, real for the first time in a long time. “i’ll buy him something sweet. should make up for it,” he hums. and then he looks up, smiles innocently as he asks, “wanna lend me some cash? i’ll pay you back when i’m a responsible handler of money.”

“you’re hopeless,” you chuckle, “but at least you’re here.”

————— BONUS —————

“okay,” satoru starts, holding his hands up in surrender as he stands before the higher ups. damn old geezers, he thinks. “so he did kill a person or two…but—”

“there is no excuse,” a voice hisses.

“he didn’t mean it,” he huffs indignantly, “it was an accident. those can happen sometimes.”

“what—”

“he’s going through a phase, okay? let him work through it, he’ll be fine.”

“that’s not—”

“i’ll let him off the hook this time,” satoru grins, pushing his glasses up his nose as he shrugs, “he’s got a family now, y’know? kids and a spouse, and they’re looking for a home. can’t take that away from them.”

“he’s not even married—”

“it’ll happen eventually,” he insists, “so let’s all just calm down, yeah? great, thanks!”

“gojo—”

“see ya!”

he walks out, flashing an obnoxious peace sign at the higher ups as they hiss at him to return as he’s walking out. that takes care of that, he thinks, as long as suguru doesn’t make his life harder and kill more people, he can handle it—you did promise him kikufuku if he does.

satoru is babygirl defender no. 1 ain’t nobody doing it like my guy 🤞🏽 he would be loyal to you while you were in jail no doubts

[kookooluvr]

Teach Me How To Love - Part 1

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

warnings: fwb should be warning in itself, jungkook is a simp and a hot nerdy professor (yummm), oc has a tabby cat named miso, bam makes his first appearance, jungkook has a big ol' crush on oc, some unrequited romantic feelings (?) we're not sure yet, explicit sexual content; making out, kook has heart eyes for oc's boobs, five second strip show, like a split second of male masturbation, oral sex (male receiving), a teeny wheeny bit of fingering, oc rides that thang like a cowgirl, unprotected sex (oc is on birth control and they're both clean), plus some angsty vibes at the end :(((

word count: 3.5k

summary: jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

author's note: part 1 is out my dudes !!! 😭😭 i hope you enjoy this little introduction to jungkook and oc, and i can't wait to start exploring their dynamic a little more in depth in the next parts!! i'm so excited to go on this journey with you all, so pls make sure to follow, reblog, and send me an ask if you want to chat about these cuties 🤪 part 2 coming soon !

find tmhtl masterlist here

It's the end of the day and Jungkook is on his way out, heading home after an exhausting day at the university. He walks down the corridor, his phone in hand, his eyes trained to his phone as he checks his emails.

You step out of your office, shutting the door and straightening your bag on your shoulder. You dig through it for your office keys, locking up once you find them. He looks up from his phone for a second and spots you, a smile tugging at his lips as he pockets his phone and walks over to you.

He leans against the wall next to your door, arms crossed, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Hey,” he murmurs with a little grin.

“Hey, Kook,” you greet softly, walking away to head home, Jungkook peeling himself off the wall to walk next to you.

“Long day?” he asks with a sympathetic smile.

You love your job, really, you do. But some days are draining and dealing with young adults who don't even know how to reference their sources for an essay or spell parliament properly can actually drive you to drink. “Mm, thank God the day's over,” you chuckle, looking over at him as you walk down the stone walkway together, the sun slowly starting to set on campus.

He chuckles, looking over at you to catch the way the golden hour light casts a pretty yellowish-orange glow over your skin, his eyes quickly diverting down to the ground to stop himself from staring, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Hey, uhm...if you don't have any plans tonight, do you maybe wanna come over to my place?” he asks, feeling like an awkward teenager with a crush every time he asks you that, even if he's done it ten dozen times by now. He knows why he's inviting you over. You know why he's inviting you over.

“Yeah, sure,” you say casually, heading in the direction of the parking lot to get to your car. You see it in its usual parking spot, right next to his, just like it is every day, like a silent declaration that you're a package deal.

His heart really shouldn't do that weird thump-thump thing that it does every time you agree to come over, but it does, and it might just be heart disease, but he is yet to get it under control. “Cool...cool...Is 7 okay for you?” he asks, taking out his keys as he approaches his car, leaning against the driver's door with a little smile on his lips.

“Yeah, I'll just go home and change out of these clothes and feed Miso then I'll head over,” you murmur absentmindedly while you dig through your bag for your car keys, searching through the endless pit of earphones, a tangled phone charger, lip liner, lip gloss, and ten thousand receipts for things you don't even remember buying. He watches you with a faint smile, knowing how messy that bag is, but also knowing that if he lectures you about it, your response will be, 'you don't get it, you're not a woman' so he minds his business and stands by patiently.

“You can go, I'll manage,” you mumble, your eyebrows furrowed, a soft pout on your lips as you rummage through the leather bag. He chuckles and cocks his head to the side, finding it quite amusing. “You sure? I feel like I could find the cure for cancer before you find your keys in that thing.”

“You should quit teaching and go into comedy,” you mutter dryly, finally finding the damn keys. “Ha. Found it,” you quip, smiling sarcastically before unlocking the car. He shakes his head with a soft smile, rolling his eyes as he gets in his own car. He'll get you back for your sass, but he knows that his 'punishments’ feel more like a reward than anything else.

You go home and feed Miso, the grey tabby lounging around like she's the queen of your apartment, completely unbothered that you're only staying for a little while before eventually leaving again to get dicked down hang out with Jungkook. You put on some comfortable sweats and give her a few kisses and cuddles before heading over to Jungkook's place.

This is a regular thing for you guys. You remain professional at work, well, as professional as two people who are hooking up can be, and then you go over to his place, or vice versa, and sometimes there's wine, sometimes there's dinner, sometimes you go straight to the sexy part, or sometimes there's no sexy part at all because one of you just wants to talk or watch a movie. It works for you. It's easy. It feels good. Really good.

He's a good friend. He's kind, he's a good listener, and he's all those nice, sweet, lovely things. He's also really good in bed, which is always a bonus in a...friend.

Good friends offer to drive you home from the club when you've had one too many to drink. Good friends support you in times of need. Good friends go down on you until your legs shake. That's just how it is.

"Slow down, you're gonna choke," he chuckles, watching you stuff your face with Indian takeout. It's like a competitive sport when the two of you eat dinner, which is one of the things you like most about hanging out with Jungkook. There is no pressure to be perfect. You can act the way you really want to and not feel scrutinized for it. Maybe it's just because his big fat crush has completely tinted the way he sees you, but he'd happily watch you pig out if it means he gets to spend time alone with you.

“I thought you like it when I choke a little bit,” you tease, just wanting to get a reaction out of him, and that's exactly what you get. He nearly chokes on his food, his cheeks flushed, his eyes wide as he looks over at you.

“Jesus Christ, y/n, you can't just say stuff like that,” he coughs, trying to compose himself, roughly clearing his throat to not die via chicken biryani. It’s quite a strange thing how he can go from this to a sex god in bed, not that it's anything for you to complain about.

Jungkook does the dishes after dinner which allows you to enjoy some alone time with Bam. The brown doberman plops down on the couch, practically begging to be cuddled. He’s always been quite fond of you, since Jungkook adopted him three years ago. He’s the sweetest boy. He loves being loved on, much like his father.

Jungkook watches as you give Bam “lovies” as you call it, the dog absolutely basking in the attention.

“I’m starting to think he likes you more than me,” Jungkook jokes with a scoff, smiling as Bam does his ‘sit/lay down’ tricks for you. What a showoff.

“He’s never gotten that comfortable with anyone who isn't me,” he murmurs with a soft smile, watching the two excited puppies in his living room. “He gets really excited when he knows you're coming over.”

“Bam, cut it out. I’m Miso’s mommy, she’s going to get jealous,” you playfully scold him, although the scratches you give him say otherwise. He’s just a doe-eyed, dark-haired, soft-hearted boy. Again, much like his father.

Jungkook finishes drying the dishes and practically shoves Bam out the way to get the same attention from you. He lays down on the couch with his head in your lap and you already know what he wants. You lightly scratch his scalp, watching his eyes flutter shut, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, relishing in the feeling of your fingers in his hair. Sex is great, but there's something about moments like this that just makes him want to get down on his knees and give you whatever you want, whenever you want it.

“I think Bam-ie’s upset,” you chuckle, looking over at him with a soft, apologetic smile, his father looking anything but sorry. He chuckles as he watches Bam quietly stroll back to the bedroom, his eyes fluttering shut once more when you do that thing with your nails that sends shivers down his spine.

“He’ll live,” he scoffs, wincing when you give his hair a firm tug, his lips puffing up into a pout.

You don't really remember how exactly you ended up on his lap with your hands in his hair and his lips peppering your jaw and neck with gentle, tender kisses, but you know that it feels good.

“We’ve been so busy lately, we’ve barely gotten a chance to do this,” he murmurs against your skin, his hands trailing up your thighs to rest at your hips.

You scoff, your eyes fluttering shut as he sucks on that sweet spot behind your ear. It's true. You’ve both been so busy with work that you haven't hung out or had sex in two weeks.

“I know. I’ve been relying on my vibrator.”

He feels a shrill of heat run through him at the thought of you pleasuring yourself, as if he hasn't already seen the actual thing live in-person.

“Yeah? Is he better than me?” he teases with a little grin, pressing soft kisses to your pulse point.

“First of all; she, and I mean…she gets the job done,” you tease, not wanting to outright admit that nothing and no one can make you cum the way he does.

“You couldn't have just said no?” he chuckles, leaning his head back to rest against the back of the couch, his eyes heavy-lidded as he looks up at you. “Maybe I should get myself a toy too…y’know, for when you're too busy,” he teases with a lazy grin.

“What, like a pocket pussy?” you laugh.

“Mm. Something like that.”

“I’d prefer you to be inside me instead of a fake vagina,” you quip, leaning in to press a feather-like kiss to his lips, just testing the waters a bit. “Are you gonna think of me when you use it?” you tease, batting your lashes the way you know makes him go a little weak.

He swallows thickly, nodding like he’s hypnotised. “Of course I’d think of you,” he murmurs, his hips bucking up in a sad attempt to get you to give him some friction. “It wouldn't compare to you though. Nothing compares to you.” His voice is soft and airy, sounding almost pathetic.

You feel a little smile tug at your lips, your resolve slowly slipping. He’s so open about his thoughts and feelings. He’s not afraid to be vulnerable and lay it all out there, even if it is just sex.

His heart does that stupid thump-thump thing again at the sight of your smile, but now really isn't the time to psychoanalyse that, so he pushes that thought away for later.

“Can you take this off for me?” He slips his fingers underneath the soft fabric of your sweatshirt, getting a bit antsy to see more of you.

He’s never really given it too much thought whether he’s an ass or tits typa guy, but when you pull your sweatshirt over your head and his eyes land on that black bra with the little pink bows, the one that you know he likes so much, he swears he’s never seen anything prettier.

“God, I love these.” He leans his head forward to press soft little kisses to the tops of your breasts, his hands trailing up the sides of your ribs. “My pretty girls.”

Your eyes fall shut, the butterflies starting to flutter in the pit of your stomach. Sex with him is so soft and sweet. He says nice things and he makes you feel good, both physically and emotionally, and that makes your anxiety spike just a tad, so you deflect.

“Do you always make conversation with a woman’s tits before you stick it in her or…?”

He chuckles, and it's deep and warm, a little comforting, like if hot cocoa had a voice.

“Take this off. Wanna see them,” he murmurs softly, lightly tugging at the strap of your bra to let it snap back against your skin.

You roll your eyes, but the faint smile on your lips tells him that you're more than happy to oblige. You reach back to unclasp it, letting the material fall from your body, his eyes growing a shade darker at your exposed skin.

He swirls his tongue around a nipple and sucks before repeating the same thing on the other side, giving both breasts the attention they deserve. His eyes flutter shut like he wants to savour every little moment with you.

You reluctantly get up off his lap, and before he can protest, you're discarding the rest of your clothing, sliding your sweatpants down your legs. He makes quick work of following your lead by removing his shirt and pants, his boxers following quickly behind.

You make a little show of removing your panties, and you would normally be embarrassed by the amount of moisture that has already accumulated inside the flimsy material, but right now, all you can focus on is his hand giving his cock a few lazy strokes while he watches you undress for him.

“C’mere.” He spreads his legs a bit, his cock already almost fully hard, the tip slowly turning a light shade of pink. You'd never thought of a cock as 'pretty' before, but damn, it's pretty.

You do as he says without a single protest or complaint, your pussy practically throbbing at the sight of him. Oh, how wonderful it is to be his friend.

You get down on your knees in front of him, his eyelids hanging low as he looks down at you, his hand pumping his cock.

You pride yourself in being good at oral sex, but it's never been something you particularly love doing. That is, until you started hooking up with Jungkook. Sometimes he’ll just be doing something as simple as watching a show on tv, and you’ll be on your knees with your hair up and his cock hitting the back of your throat. It's everything, from the sounds he makes, to the way his eyebrows furrow and his lips part in ecstasy, that makes it so enjoyable.

You take over for him, giving his cock a few strokes before swirling your tongue around the head, pulling a deep groan from the back of his throat. You start sucking, working your way down his length, occasionally looking up to see that look on his face that makes your pussy clench. He rests his hand at the back of your head, not applying pressure, just wanting to feel more of you as you bob your head up and down a few times.

You give the tip some attention, then go all the way down to the base so that your nose just lightly brushes against his pelvis, then back up again, keeping a nice rhythm. His groans, paired with the way his stomach tenses every time you take him down to the base, is almost enough to make you cum right then and there.

“Fuck…baby, stop, please. Don't wanna cum too early,” he murmurs hoarsely, reaching for you to get up and straddle his lap. Your hips slide back and forth, your slick coating him, his dick glistening under the low light of the living room lamp.

“Already? Jesus, Jungkook, have some self-respect.” You can't help but tease him a bit, even in a moment like this, where you're in no position to be making fun of his desperation when you’re as wet as you are.

He scoffs, his hand disappearing between your legs, his middle and ring finger rubbing slow circles over your clit before sliding back to sink into your sopping entrance, shutting you right up.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” he teases with a lazy little grin, his fingers slowly pumping in and out, your wetness allowing him to move them without any resistance.

“Don't speak about my daughter at a time like this.”

His laughter gets cut off by your lips crashing into his, his fingers slipping out of you as you lift your hips to align the tip of his cock with your entrance.

“Want me to sit on it?”

“Yeah.” His voice is breathless as the anticipation slowly builds in his gut. No matter how many times you have sex, he’ll never get tired of that rush of adrenaline that flows through him in that moment right before he slides in.

“Ask nicely.”

“Y/n, come on,” he laughs half-heartedly, tilting his head back against the couch, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips.

“Ask me nicely and I’ll sit down, Kook,” you whisper, leaning in so that your lips just barely graze against his.

“Please…please, baby. Ride me, please.”

The groan he lets out as you slowly sink down on his cock is enough to send shivers down your spine. It's thick and long, but it's not too big for it to hurt. It fits perfectly, nice and snug like a glove.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he mutters hoarsely, his hands gripping you harder as you begin to roll your hips in that fluid motion that makes him go a little crazy.

It feels like an honour that he gets to see you like this, naked on top of him, riding him deep and slow on his couch after a long day at work. He doesn't know what he ever did in his lifetime to deserve to be balls deep inside you on a Friday night, but he knows that he’s a lucky bastard.

“Just like that. Fuck, you're so tight,” he groans, looking down to watch the way your pussy sucks him in, like something out of a wet dream.

You set a nice pace, riding him just the way he likes it. You reach down to rub circles over your clit, your walls clenching around his cock, pulling soft moans and whimpers from his lips.

“Keep going,” he mutters, his voice trembling. “Fuck, you're gonna make me cum, baby…”

You ride a bit faster, applying more pressure to your clit as you chase your own high. He fights to keep his eyes open, desperately needing to watch you as the pleasure takes over.

“Fuck, Jungkook!” The pleasure creeps up on you and you cum with a breathless moan, your walls fluttering around his length, throbbing and pulsating.

“Gonna…holy shit…gonna cum, baby, don't stop…”

You use the last of your energy to bring him to his peak, moving your hips until his cock twitches and his muscles tense beneath you. He cums with a guttural groan, his fingers digging into your flesh so hard that it might bruise tomorrow.

You continue to grind down on him to help him ride it out. You gently run your fingers through his damp hair, his skin slightly dewy, his eyes squeezed shut. He trembles as the aftershocks flow through him, his breathing coming out a bit uneven.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close to his chest, looking like he just died and came back to life. He lifts his head to press a soft kiss to your lips, but you pull away before he can deepen it.

“Come on, let go. I gotta go clean up.”

You very rarely allow him to cuddle you after sex. It feels too intimate, too romantic. You don't allow yourself to be romantic with Jungkook. He's not your boyfriend and you like it that way.

He lets out a small hum of disagreement as you lift yourself up, his hands moving to hold your waist.

"Stay here for a little longer," he mumbles softly, his voice drowsy. He looks at you with big doe eyes, trying to persuade you to stay. “Just a few more minutes.”

“You're starting to soften inside me and I have to shower, Kook. You know I hate feeling sticky.”

He reluctantly lets you go, groaning softly as you get up off his lap. "Fine, fine," he grumbles, his eyes following you as you walk over to the bathroom.

You walk off to his bathroom and close the door, locking it behind you. Locking the door is something so simple but it means so much. It means, 'You're not my boyfriend so we can't share that level of intimacy. You can fuck my brains out, but you can't wash my hair in the shower or sit on the toilet while I do my skincare'. It's too coupley.

Jungkook slowly puts his boxers back on, staring at the bathroom door. He knows he’s not your boyfriend. He knows he probably never will be. He knows all your boundaries and your rules and your reasons for having them, but that doesn't make it sting any less. He can't help but wonder what it would feel like if you actually allowed him to love you, but he knows he’s just being foolish and hopeful. He knows that by physically locking that door, you're locking him out of ever getting closer to you emotionally.

[yieldtotemptation]

PROFESSIONAL ft. Bae

bae x male reader smut

8k words

For those keeping score at home, Bae Jinsol does appear to have the upper hand.

Not just because of who she is—the looks, the celebrity, the whole perfect package of it all; that's a dime a dozen in your line of work.

It’s how she haunts you.

The messages she leaves on your phone. The way she says your name.

The photos.

So, yeah. Despite the fact that you’re ostensibly just her personal trainer, and therefore, ipso facto, the ‘one in charge’; it’s becoming all too apparent that the balance of power in your relationship with Bae is, well, to put it simply, not exactly professional.

Which makes it no surprise that even though you’re at the gym a half-hour early; a black coffee in hand, ready to chase the one already running through your veins—she’s already there.

Stretched out like a cobra; hips to the ground, back arched, chest high.

Her reflection in the mirror greets you with a knowing smile.

Unsurprised. Unbothered.

Like she's been waiting for this—planned it all out. Down to the exact second that you’d walk in, discovering her in the centre of your private gym, splayed out in a pose chosen specifically to make you feel like you're intruding on something intimate.

Showing off the sharp planes of her abs, the muscles of her legs, the curve of her ass, and that dangerous strip of skin that makes you want to—

"Looks like I beat you again, sir."

You swallow. You somewhat regret giving her a personal key.

“Just getting warmed up.” Bae slithers out of the stretch, sinewy and fluid, turning over and around so she can properly face you; so she can properly present herself to you.

A glance—a gawk, really—has you rethinking your earlier assessment. Most of your clients are a dime a dozen. But Bae, looking at you, looking like that. Gorgeous, fit, unattainable yet somehow within your reach and daring you to do something about it—she’s a whole other currency.

She's been here for a while now, you can tell. Beads of sweat have started to slick her skin; over her brow, down her neck, pooling at the crevices of her collarbones. And the show she makes of wiping across her throat with the back of her hand, leaving a glossy sheen.

You ponder licking it off.

Long enough for her to catch you being unprofessional, again. To her credit, Bae just hums a note of amusement, gracious enough to let the moment pass as if it never even happened.

“You don’t need to do that,” you say, which could really be in reference to anything at this point. “We’ve got one hour. Warm-up included.”

“I know,” Bae answers, revisiting a long-standing argument, "But I like to be ready."

“Ready,” you echo, tasting the sound of the word on your own tongue.

“So that we can make the most of our time together,” She continues, twirling a peroxide-blonde curl around her finger, stirring up entirely inappropriate images of Bae, and her hair, and your hands, and oh God. "I only have you for one measly little hour, after all."

She lets the implication hang in the air, planting her flag (bright red, of course). It gives you an opportunity to take a long sip of your coffee; the burn from it sliding down your throat a welcome distraction.

You clear it with a cough.

"Well," you say, setting your mug aside and putting on the face of someone who isn’t severely compromised by Bae's casual, shameless attempts at whittling down your resolve. "Let’s not waste any of those precious minutes."

There's this grin on her face, as endearing as it is infuriating; and you can already hear the reply she’ll make before it comes, the way she’ll twist your honest words into lurid innuendo. Something with enough plausible deniability to keep it from crossing any lines of proper decorum you’ve tried to set, but pointed enough to blur them.

Something like—"Oh, I plan on making every second count."

You emphasise, “Exercising.”

Bae plays along, “What else would we be doing?”

More of this game, presumably.

The one you've been playing for the entire month you've known her, this routine you've established—you trying to keep things on track, do the job you’re actually being paid by her company to do; and Bae pushing back, pushing you as far as she can.

Trying, hoping, to inevitably bring you to that point where you break, where your veneer of professionalism finally slips away and you give her the type of workout she really wants.

You really should know better.

Should know to ignore the innocent requests to 'help stretch her out' or 'massage this cramp in her thigh'. Should know not to indulge the flirty banter; the 'oh, you're so much stronger than me', or worse yet, the blatant, 'but I bet you're not as flexible.'

You should have never let your hands linger, held her close when she asked you to correct her form, taken your time to navigate the curve of her hip, the small of her back, the slope of her legs.

Definitely should not have given her your personal number. Fuck, you should have blocked hers. Not read any messages, not even dreamed of replying. Not opened the photos, not fucking saved them and revisited them night after night after night.

(Because ultimately, the main party at fault is you.

After that first time, that first session; when you excused all the innuendo as coincidence, pretended the flirtations, the touching was just down to Bae being her normal, bubbly, extroverted self.

And then, when she convinced you to come into the shower because she just couldn’t seem to get the hot water to work, well—

Yeah.

Somewhere between making her moan your name and fucking her into the tile walls; you really, really should have known better.)

But today—today won’t be the day you give in.

The first time was a one-off, a fleeting lapse in judgment. Won't happen again.

You’re the trainer. She’s the client.

You have your clipboard, and your workout plan.

And Bae…

Bae’s biting her lip; blushing at you like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

“So, how do you want me, sir?”

(Bent over, on top, pinned underneath, from behind—you could fill the whole session with your long list of answers; but none of those are on the clipboard.)

You fight the urge to laugh, or scream, or maybe just drop to your knees and surrender.

Instead, you reproach, “Bae.”

“Sir.”

Laying it on thick; the innocence, the arrogance, the knowing in those doe eyes. Something she said to you once rattles in your mind: "Everybody needs an outlet, don't you think?"

Bae swings her legs around, tucking them under her so she’s on her knees. She’s looking up at you, those wide eyes and that even wider smile, sizing up every inch of you through her long lashes.

"I know what you're doing," you try, but it's not enough. Knowing is only half the battle.

"You do?" Bae's playing coy, keeping her tone light and breezy. "And here I thought I was just trying to be a good student."

A finger on her thigh, to dance along the hem of her shorts, peel it back just slightly, only to let it snap back into place.

“Clock’s ticking.”

There's a correct response here, you think, one that keeps you both on the straight and narrow. Not that you get a chance to find it, because Bae's leaning forward, placing her hands behind her back, pushing out her chest and arching her spine just so.

Her top stretches over her, a sports bra that’s somehow both modest and obscenely revealing; clinging to her—she’s filling it out, her nipples poking through like two little darts, demanding your attention.

She tilts her head, smirks, and it hits you like a sucker punch.

That’s the pose.

You’ve seen it; it’s been seared into your brain. The centrepiece of a photo that she so casually sent you in the middle of the day, just to ‘get your opinion on her progress’.

(Only then, all she had on was her smile.)

A sigh, because you know—this is it.

The last exit off the highway, the last chance to say no, to keep things strictly above board and not let this get any more complicated than it already is. But you’re nearing a wreck on the side of the road, and you can’t help but want to stop and look.

Fuck it.

Fuck the clipboard, fuck the workout plan, fuck not giving in. You can always try (and fail) again the next session.

Bae reads your mind. "Time for some cardio, then?"

“Get up,” is your answer. (A command, a plea).

She’s quick to rise to her feet, smugness gone, and in its place shameless glee as she witnesses you crack and concede defeat in real time. 

This is how you'll rationalise it:

There’s only one way to take back control of this situation. At her core, Bae’s an extremely simple person. She sees something she wants; she gets it. She’s a fire—all she does is burn hot, and the only way to keep her from turning your professional life to ash is to feed the flame.

Just enough to manage it.

You step closer, she takes a step back. You follow, each step, each sway of her hips a metronome set to a rhythm that says ‘yes’. She keeps backing up, leading you on until she’s seated on a bench. Placing her hands on her knees, pushing them apart, spreading her legs in a V; an open invitation to the space between.

You're not sure who's training who anymore.

Putting that thought aside—lines can be redrawn, boundaries reset. If you’re going to get some form of authority back, it’s not going to be with words. So, you do the only thing that makes sense in a moment that's lost all logic.

You lean down, take Bae by the chin, and you kiss her.

Something sounding like your name slips from Bae's lips as your tongues meet; as her hands find the back of your neck, pulling you in so she can lick into your mouth and get a taste of your morning.

Eager, greedy, demanding; full of all the pent-up need that’s been festering since that first encounter—when you had her creaming down your thighs and screaming your name. There's little tenderness to be found in the kisses, the licks, the nibbles that follow, you’re both too desperate for any kind of sweetness right now.

Bae’s hands are everywhere; peeling your shirt over your head, tracing the lines of your stomach, digging her nails into the meat of your shoulder. Your own hands are busy too—squeezing her thighs, cupping her ass, drifting up her skintight shorts in search of the heat that’s been keeping you awake at night.

"Took you long enough," she murmurs against your mouth, the words barely discernible but the triumph tinging them crystal clear.

An acknowledgment groaned against her lips, breaking away from the kiss to trail down her neck, licking away that spot you've had your eyes on the whole time. Tasting the salt of her sweat, the sweetness of her skin, revelling in the tang of the forbidden, the vanilla of the inevitable.

It’s some wonder, truly, of how a girl like her—all youthful glow and sharp edges, sculpted by both genetics and sheer force of will—wound up so utterly obsessed with you.

“Because of what you said when we first met,” Bae whispers in your ear, bites on the lobe, and you’re realising that maybe your thoughts haven’t been as silent as you assumed.

“Oh?” Is all you have to offer, because that memory is far gone, and your mind has far too little bandwidth to focus on anything that isn’t her wetness, seeping through the fabric of her shorts and staining your fingertips. 

The dampness—it's a dead giveaway. Yet you still ghost a thumb over her, press down just to confirm, make her inhale, sharp. And sure enough, there it is. Or rather, there it isn't.

The audacity.

There's a giggle from Bae as she feels you discover her secret; that it's just her shorts that are keeping you from being knuckle deep inside of her, and nothing else.

Bae recites your words back to you, only from her lips they’re far more honeyed, sticky and sweet against your cheek. "You said that you'd—ah—that you’d push me."

She’s sighing, melting into you, hips slowly grinding against your fingers, so achingly close to begging. Turning up the heat, you let your other hand glide up her abs, feel the need radiating from her, the muscles tensing and rolling with every slight movement she makes.

You’re reaching for her sports bra when she finds her voice, continuing through gritted teeth, "You said that you wouldn't take it easy on me."

Her breath stutters as your thumb traces the bottom of her top, fingers digging beneath her bra line. With one swift tug, the fabric's pulled away from her body, yanked over head in a blur of motion, leaving her breasts bare and heaving before you.

They’re small, yes, but the curve, the fit, the weight of them in your hands—just right.

“You said that if I—ah fuck—”

You can’t resist, really, your lack of self-control has been well established. So, you kiss her chest, licking a path through the valley between her breasts, drinking in the sweat that pools there, that little reservoir of desire.

“You said that if I tried hard enough, I’d be—God, yes—I’d be rewarded.”

Words, simple instructions you’ve given to countless other clients, but Bae. Twisting them, hearing what she wants to hear, or maybe what you intended all along? (Who’s to say.)

“You weren’t lying, were you, sir?”

You don’t have a response—what is there to say now, anyway? Any words would just be noise, inconsequential compared to the symphony of gasps and groans playing out between you both.

There’s a dusky pink nipple just waiting for your touch, all swollen and sensitive. You don’t disappoint. It’s in your mouth, rolling between your tongue and teeth, pebbling under the attention. It’s so easy to get lost in them, in their taste and feel, in her hands threading into your hair, pulling you closer, as if you need the encouragement.

You’re indulging in her, yes, but right now, there’s little you wouldn’t do to make her keen. Your other hand doesn’t rest; fingers are at work, pressing down, circling her clit through the nylon, making her arch up into you. These touches, swipes over her stiffened nub; she's falling into you.

Needy little sounds spill from her mouth, sweet nothings and half-formed pleas; bad things, dirty thoughts that most would regret ever even thinking, but of course, Bae only has the best of intentions. You’ve got her right where she wants to be; where she needs to be, and fuck she just takes your breath away.

You look up at her, feel her, and the absurdity of it all is dawning on you. To think someone like Bae would ever need training.

She was already perfect the first time you met her.

The long, pale-white expanse of her legs, all toned muscle and elegance. Her ass, the tight curve of it, fuller, rounder than should be possible on a frame so dainty. Her stomach, her thighs, her arms, (God, did you already mention her abs?), every flawless fucking inch of her.

A work of art, meticulously crafted by some divine hand; there’s nothing to be done by mere mortals except worship.

Let it be known the irony is not lost on you, when you let her nipple slip from your mouth and relay your next instruction: “Get on your hands and knees.”

Bae doesn’t need to be told twice.

With grace that’s far too practiced to be interpreted as anything other than a deliberate tease, Bae swings her body around, shifting her weight until she's on all fours.

Standing before her, watching the muscles in her back flex, her ass peeking out from beneath the elastic of her shorts. They’ll be ripped off entirely in due time.

But first, a kiss for your troubles. Over your sweatpants, branding you through the cotton as hers.

“Finally,” she breathes, making you swell, throb under her gaze.

Fingers hook into your waistband, pulling down your pants with ease. Your cock springs free, slapping across her lips, leaving a wet streak on her gloss. It shines.

A giggle, a raise of her bleached brows—like it’s a surprise. Like she hasn’t been made intimately familiar with your length; felt it buried deep inside her, painting her walls, her throat, with your release.

The tip of her tongue peeks out, just enough to swipe across the slit, to scoop up the pre-cum beading out of it. You hiss through your teeth, hips jerk forward, but Bae’s too quick—draws back with a laugh. She’s enjoying this, this little game of hers. The brat and the trainer, the cat and the mouse, the idol and the grown man who’s supposed to have his shit together.

“Tease,” you groan, your hands finding her hair, tugging gently to remind her of her place.

“Sorry, sir. Couldn’t resist.” 

A wink is all the warning you get, and she’s diving down.

No more preamble, no hesitation at all—Bae’s been waiting for this all fucking month, and she’s dead set on making up for lost time.

She’s taking you in, all of you, all at once; her mouth stretching wide to accommodate the girth. The feel of her, the wetness, the tears at the corners of those big, round eyes, and the question in them—'think you can handle this?'

Fuck.

She’s sloppy; so immediately, noisily sloppy.

Cheeks hollowing out, taking you deep, making your hips buck and collide with the back of her throat for that agonising split second before she retreats; only to do it again. Faster, harder; making you doubt the ability of your knees to hold out.

A fistful of her hair, if only to keep you upright.

She’s all over the place—popping your cock from her lips, kissing down your shaft, licking around the base, a cheeky graze of teeth along your balls, and then back again, swallowing you down until you can feel her nose nuzzling into your groin.

You’re a mess of sensations, pleasure coiling in your stomach, a knot inside you tightening with every wet sound she makes.

It’s her enthusiasm that does it, really. She’s not trying to be good at this, not trying to impress you with her skills. She’s just plain desperate for it.

Her moans vibrate through you, muffled by the thickness of your cock. She’s saying something, words that you can’t quite make out, that takes a moment to translate: "Needed this," she gasps around your length, "Missed it so much."

An admission: you’ve really fucking missed it too.

“This beautiful, beautiful cock,” Bae slurs, sliding your cock out of her throat to catch her breath, so she can take a break to wonder. “How many has it ruined, hm?” Her tongue flicks out, scooping the globs of saliva and pre-cum hanging from the head. “All those pretty little girls you train.”

There’s envy there, and you’re barely managing to groan out, assuage her, “Just you.”

“I find that so fucking hard to believe, sir.” Bae says, resting your cock on the edges of her cheeks. “Those tight cunts, those eager mouths and asses, and you're telling me—" she swipes her tongue along your shaft, leaving a wet trail in her wake "—that it's just me?"

Her voice, her fucking words; too, too much. It’s all you can do to not just grab her by the neck and fuck her face raw. (A dream for her, probably. To have you grab her throat and made her choke on you).

“Well, if you say so,” she’s unconvinced; not that it does anything to slow her down. Back at it, back at making her eyes water, at needing these panted, desperate gulps of air between mouthfuls of you.

The little things—her lips glued around your shaft, her throat a tight, warm fist, and her eyes. Looking up at you like she's afraid if she doesn't, if she stops moving and averts her gaze, you'll pull away.

As if.

“Bae, you’re so fucking good at this,” you’re blurting out, because she is. She really, really is.

Wet and filthy and so fucking delighted to let you know, “All for you, sir.”

And you believe it—she makes you believe it.

Everything’s for you, even when she’s not supposed to be. The sound of her, choking and gagging, the wet, slobbering noises of her devouring you, echoing off the empty gym walls.

The sight of it all; tearing your attention to a million different places. There’s the Bae in front of you, focused entirely on your cock, on letting you use her mouth like a toy, plunge your length deep down her throat to make her cry, to make her cheeks flush.

Then there’s the Bae in the mirror, the reflection bouncing off the polished chrome surface behind her. Her ass, rising and falling, in time with the bobbing of her head; and that soaked spot right at the centre of her shorts, the bullseye growing and growing with every second that passes.

Fucking amazing, incredible, too good, too much to handle; spilling out of your mouth as those pouty pink lips of hers slide up and down, drool pooling around your base, slipping down your thighs, a wet mess dripping onto your floor.

“And to think you wanted to stop this from happening,” she’s chiding, offended really, voice raspy with the effort of speaking around your cock.

There’s no argument to make, not when you’re too busy taking in the sight of your cock disappearing back into her mouth. She’s impatient now, not letting up, not even for air; just taking you in deep, deep, so deep she’s trying to swallow you whole.

You’re sliding down, down her throat, and she’s got you; this suction around you that holds you there and it’s a sheer miracle that haven't completely dissolved inside her. Your hips are thrusting forward of their own accord, your hand still in her hair, but not pulling anymore. Just holding on.

The world narrows down to just the two of you, the gym spins around you; the lights, the equipment, everything blurs into a sea of white noise, and all that remains is the wet sound of her mouth and the hotness of her throat, the fistfuls of her blonde hair, her eyes, these pretty drops of chocolate brown; and it’s all building and building and tightening and tightening, until—

"Stop."

It’s a pain to say, but necessary; if you still want a fighting chance to make it out of this with at least some of your dignity intact.

A gentle tug of her hair has your cock slipping from her mouth with a wet pout; leaving the warmth of her lips for the sudden chill of the gym’s regulated air. Bae looks up at you, panting, lips swollen and shiny, drops of you smeared from your base to her chin.

“Something wrong?”

A pause until the room stops spinning, so you can collect yourself and wonder why you’re even here. “I need—" you start, but the words catch in your throat. What do you need? To not fuck your client? To try to keep your job? Or to hear her scream your name, have her beg and beg and beg, drill her into every surface possible—every bench, rack, wall, fuck even the elliptical if she’s game.

Coherence comes and goes, and Bae remains seated on her heels, supplying her own suggestions. “Need to stretch me out? Make me really sweat?”

"Still with that?"

"Tired of the wordplay?" She laughs, and you can't even be mad—you're the one who gave her the opening.

"What do you think?"

Bae takes her sweet time looking you up and down, greed in her gaze, as she takes in you; straining from the effort of holding back. From your chest, down your stomach, landing on your cock, still painfully standing at attention.

"I think," she says, drawing out that word, sliding it over her tongue like a piece of candy, "That I regret not asking you to send me any photos back."

That brings a smile to your face; and it’s enough to clear the fog from your head. You steel your resolve, give her the one thing she’s been craving, from the moment she saw you walk in:

A firm order: “Stand up. Take those shorts off before I rip them off myself.”

You give her room to lift herself off the bench, legs unfurling one at a time and stretching beneath her. She wiggles her hips in this dance as she kicks off her sneakers and shimmies out of her shorts; the nylon clinging to her skin before it’s peeled away to reveal… nothing.

Just her bare, naked flesh—pink and perfect.

Tearing away from her momentarily, from the living canvas of long legs and naked anticipation, ignoring the fucking twirl she does for you, because yeah, she’s fully, adorably aware of just how insanely, lights-out good she looks.

You turn to the bench, kick up the backrest from a flat to an incline; doing your best to pay no mind to Bae, waiting. Rather impatiently, bouncing restlessly on the balls of her feet. The teacher’s pet, so needy for a morsel of attention.

Back to her, unable to suppress the smirk spreading across your face as you take a seat. “Squats.”

Her face. The amusement, the excitement, the acknowledgment that you’re now completely on board with this derailment of a training session—it's all there, painted across Bae's features in glorious, full-colour high definition.

She takes a step forward, sauntering over, one hand sliding down to trace over her mound, to tease herself; tease you. And when she’s close enough, she swings her legs over your thighs, straddling your waist, taking hold of your shoulders and bracing herself against you.

Dripping already, cunt barely kissing the tip of your cock, the heat of it all; it’s a living, breathing entity in the room—thick, heavy, making the air feel charged.

And then, without another word, she sinks down.

A long, hot breath from Bae's mouth: “Fuuuck me.”

Slow, delicious torture has you groaning, has her biting down on her lip. The way she takes you in, the way you push into her, inch by inch—feeling every little twitch of her walls, every throb of your cock; it’s all just so fucking perfect.  

“Good girl,” you find yourself saying when she bottoms out, when your cock completes her, turns her into something beautifully obscene.

“God, you’re just so,” she starts with, but the words get lost somewhere between the shallow gasps and harsh breaths that follows.

She’s staring at you, deep into you, and there’s this satisfied grin playing at the corners of her mouth that makes you want to do everything she hasn’t had the breath to ask for.

"Thank you," she manages instead.

And then she’s moving. Slowly, so goddamn slow, taking her time to feel every ridge, every vein; making sure she’s got you all to herself. Her chest heaves up and down, her tits bounce dangerously close to your lips. You spy past her, enamoured with her reflection, how her back flexes and tenses, how her spine curves with each descent, how her ass cheeks clench each time you fill her whole. 

It’s these tight little squats, this wonderful rhythm she’s setting, these squeezes of her pussy around you, the juices of her cunt slapping against your thighs as she bounces.

“Creaming everywhere, so fucking messy.” You’re taking stock of her; of this mess she’s leaving, all over herself, all over you, all over the bench and down to the ground. You can’t even be mad because, “It’s a good look on you, Bae.”

From a distance she’d be the purest depiction of innocence; the sweetest angel, the kind that would be painted on stained glass and prayed to by the masses.

But here, up close, biting down on your shoulder, devouring your cock with her cunt, moaning in your ear things that would make the Old Testament blush; she’s fucking pornographic.

Yet, she says, “Sir, I can’t handle this—”

You pause, holding her by the hips, eliciting this whine from her lips. “Too much?”

“No, not that, it’s—ah. It’s too slow,” Bae whines, emphasising her point by slamming her hips down onto your thighs, the slap of skin on skin bouncing off the mirrored walls. “I need it fast. And hard. Like you said, I need to sweat. It’s there—I’m right fucking there—so, can we—fuck, can we just go?”

Bae, Bae, Bae.

She makes your blood sing and your cock throb.

Makes you give it to her, just like she asked.

Fingers dig into her hips, thumbs pressed into the softness of her flesh, and you lift her slightly, only to pull her right back down. Like she asked: fast, hard, and you’re thankful you shelled out extra for benches that could take punishment.

“God—” Bae cries out, high-pitched, a scream that has her shaking; not because you’re hurting her, there’s no pain to be found here. It’s all just bliss, pure, unbridled bliss.

So, you lean in, suck one of those pretty little peaks into your mouth, swirl your tongue around, and she’s jolting, her cunt clamping down on you, so tight, so fucking tight.

Every part of her, from the top of head to the tips of her toes, is tuned to this frequency of need. Her nipples, especially so; they’re so sensitive, so attuned to your every touch. They tighten to pebbles with the slightest swipe of your tongue, when your teeth dare to graze them—any pressure from your lips and she shivers.

"That’s—fuck—that’s so much better," she’s panting, “Isn’t it, isn’t it so fucking good?”

You rumble something of an affirmative into her chest, too occupied to bother with words, too busy mapping out her chest, her breasts, that lovely dip between, with your tongue and teeth and hands.

And you’re suddenly having trouble remembering, or forgetting altogether—what was it really that was stopping you from doing this sooner? What could possibly make missing out on this, missing out on Bae’s sighs and moans, missing out on the blistering heat of her cunt and the tightness wrapped around you worth it?

Sure, you had her (had each other) in the shower—slippery, steamy, illicit—but it had been so fleeting. Just a glimpse into what had been begging to happen since she first entered your domain, all smiles and sly glances.

Now that she's in your lap, taking your cock like such a good little slut, you can’t stop the images flooding your mind, feeding your imagination with every conceivable scenario.

Tasting every inch of her, exploring every crevice with your tongue, every peak and valley with your fingers. Spending hours just learning her. In due time, in due time; not now, when she’s riding you like she’s trying to break you—or at least, break the bench.

“This, exactly this,” Bae breathes into your neck, her nails raking over your shoulder blades, leaving these angry red crescents that burn and sting. “Fuck, fuck, I want it just like this—"

Getting more erratic, louder, closer.

So, you lean back, content to let her do all the work, watch her climb that peak. You could take all the time in the world, watch her waste away the very expensive fee you’re charging her company for your time. It’s what she wants, and isn’t that how it goes—the customer is always right?

"This is exactly what I want to do, exactly what we're going to do every session from now on," Bae’s instructing, voice a whip crack in the quiet of the gym. She’s getting braver with each moan that escapes, each grind of her hips that sends you deeper. "You’re going to fuck me, hard, rough, just like you fucking promised."

You can't help but laugh, the situation absurd, the words rolling off her tongue like she’s rehearsed them. "Every session, huh?"

"Every. Single. One," she confirms, her eyes fluttering shut as she starts to bounce faster, her pussy swallowing you up in a wet, delicious rhythm. “No more hiding, no more pretending. Just me, you, and this gym, as much as we need, whenever we want. Fuck, doesn't even have to be scheduled, I'll just call you and you better be here ready to fuck my brains out."

"Alright, Bae," you grit out, something inside you tightening at the thought of her calling you, begging for it like she is now, "If that's what you want, that's what you'll get."

It’s a contract, signed and sealed with the slickness of her cunt, the heat of your skin, the promise in her eyes that she’ll be good, so good for you—or at least, good enough to get more of this.

"But remember," you say, unlatching yourself from her tits, making sure to catch her eyes. "I don't do easy. You want this, you're going to work for it."

Bae bites her lips, “Yes. God yes.”

You correct her. “Yes, who?”

“Yes,” Bae grins, “sir.” 

Something shifts; the dynamic swinging for the first time in your direction, and it’s clear now. Clear to you, to her, that from now on as long as you’re taking her—pushing her—to that precipice, you’re the one calling the shots.

So, you guide her, guide her hips with your hands; setting a new pace. One that’s demanding, borderline violent, that has her chanting—“yes, yes, yes”—the syllables falling from her lips like sweet little prayers to some depraved deity.

She’s coming apart, leaving herself so vulnerable and bare, like she'd just die on top of you if you didn't stop fucking her back to life. It’s so, so painfully lovely, you’re seeing the most beautifully crafted sculpture crumble into dust. You’re in awe of her. You’re in—

Fuck you might be falling for her.

That’s a revelation to keep tucked safely away, because you couldn’t think of a less appropriate time for confessions. No, now’s the time for grunts and groans, for the sound of her wetness and the smack of her ass colliding with your thighs.

"Am I good for you?" Bae mewls, "Am I good for you, sir?"

She’s so, so good. So fucking good that your answer is a knee-jerk reaction. “Fucking incredible, Bae. Such a good slut. Getting fucked like this, used. Taking it so fucking nicely.”

Red colours her cheeks as they flush at the praise, a silent plea for more. And so you give it to her, pushing harder, faster, showering her with these gems of depravity that only someone like Bae could bring to the surface.

“You’re just loving this, aren’t you? Getting so close. So desperate to give it to me,” you’re taunting, feeling her walls closing in around you, feeling her body coiling up tight. “It’s okay, let go. You can let go.”

So close to the edge she’s practically dancing on it. She’s fighting it, fighting against the wave, her cunt spasming around you, her breaths hitching and coming in these sweet desperate little pants.

You can taste it; she just needs that extra push, that hard fucking to bring her there. A demand: “Cum. Cum for me now, Bae. Show me how good you can be, show me how much you want this.”  

And finally, a gasp, “Say my name. Call me by my name, please.”

A hand at the back of her neck, bringing her ear to her lips, so you can whisper the name you’re fucking her hard enough to forget. “Jinsol.”

It’s fucking immediate.

The words leave your mouth, and she shatters. Fine china thrown against a brick wall.

Waves of it hitting her, a shudder at first, then a fucking tsunami; ripping through her, stealing away any last semblance of bodily autonomy she might’ve had left and leaving her as a puddle of trembles and shivers and pure need.

You keep pumping, calling her every dirty name in your book—whore, slut, your little toy, your good girl, just Jinsol—again and again until all she knows is your voice.

Each name you give her, it’s a spark that sends her higher, makes her cum harder, and she just goes and goes and goes.

"Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuuuck," Bae whimpers, eyes squeezed shut so tightly you can see the veins pulsing at her temples. And you keep going, you keep pushing her, because you can't get enough of this—of her, of the power she's given you, of the way she's so obviously yours in this moment.

You want to mark this occasion, leave a sign that it was real, that you really did fuck her to oblivion. It has you kissing into her neck, sucking at the pale flesh, biting down just hard enough to make her whine.

"You're mine," you burn into her, in that nook between her neck and shoulder. "You're all mine."

Ragged huffs signal the end of it, the come down from the high—but you’re hardly done with her. You can’t be—not when you’re still this hard, not when she’s still so fucking wet around you, not when you’re feeling like this, like you could drown in her without ever needing to come up for air.

"So good, so fucking good.” She collapses, her body folds into yours, and she’s giggling, all breathless and boneless.

Of course she’d be like this, over the fucking moon. She’s got what she wanted, what she needed; made you promise to keep giving it to her whenever she wanted.

She reaches for you, fingers trace the line of your job, thumb brushing over your bottom lip, smudging a bit of her own gloss there. "I knew you’d be perfect," is what she says, right before she kisses you, "Perfect for this."

The tangling of your tongues, the taste of mint and sweat, and the smiles you’re sharing against each other’s lips when you flex your cock inside her.

“I’m not done yet,” you remind her, pulling back from her kiss, pulling your bottom lip out from her teeth. “Far from it.”

“Not going to let me catch my breath?” Bae teases, acting like this isn't entirely her fault. Like she wasn't the one that pushed you this far, that dug underneath all your layers of professionalism and responsibility until she found someone that could match her appetite.

“No.”

You’re up, pushing yourself up to your feet, keeping her impaled on you, fucking her up into the air and forcing her to wrap her legs around your waist.

And then, with a strength fuelled by lust and want and a need to just fucking cum in this slut; you drop her on her feet, spin her around, and plant her hands against the mirror.

No warning, no easing her in; she’s still so wet, cunt slick and slippery. Just slide back in, slam into her from behind, watch her come apart.

It’s all in front of you, all playing out across her pretty reflection: her face twists, her tits jiggle, her abs, God how they tighten and release all at once.

Taking back a handful of her hair, yanking her head back to claim her neck; all these sweet things—"watch yourself get fucked, Bae, look how pretty you are for me.”

And she laughs, she actually laughs, because it’s all she can do when you’re gripping her hair so tight, scraping your teeth across her neck, making her feel you all thick and hard inside of her.

A hard buck of your hips sends her forward, presses her cheek to the mirror, staining the glass with the heat of her breath.

“Look,” you demand, “look how perfect you are taking my cock like this.”

She obeys; staring at herself in the mirror, watching herself get fucked, get filled, get taken. It’s just too much. She’s too much. You’re too much. This whole fucking situation is just too much.

"Fuck it's so—you're fucking me so—"

"Didn’t you say you could take it?"

Bae's response is a whine, a clench of her cunt around you. "I can, I can take it, sir," she gasps. "Whatever you have for me. But you're just too..."

You lean in, eager to hear her confession. "Too what?"

"Too much! Too big, too good, too everything."

A fucking compliment and a challenge all rolled into one. "Is that so?"

"Y-Yes—I’m just so—just need you to—please fucking cum," she groans, barely audible over the wet sounds of your bodies slapping together. "Do whatever you want to it, to me, to my pussy, please, just please, please, please."

You're breaking her, turning her into this teary mess of moans and whimpers, tapping into something innate inside her, something that wants to be bent to your will, to be used by you, to be treated like the slut she craves to be in this moment.

And fuck, it’s addictive.

"You're going to scream my name.” You’re telling her, telling her how the rest of this situation, how the rest of your entire relationship is going to play out. "You're going to cum all over my cock again, and then you're going to tell me how much you love it."

"I will, sir," she nods furiously to you, to herself in the mirror, "I'll do anything you say."

You just can't wipe the grin off your face.

Thrusting into her, fucking her like you've never fucked anyone before. Like you own her, like she's nothing more than your toy to play with—to use and abuse and enjoy.

She’s screaming your name—no, not your name—“sir, sir, sir, fuck me, sir”—and—“more, sir, please, pretty please.”

More for her—a hard smack to her ass that makes her jump, makes her eyes water. But it also has her push back against you, fucking you back, more frantic than ever. A second smack cracking through the gym, and already there’s red blooming on her skin, marring the perfect pale flesh.

"Sir, please," she cries out, her voice high and tight. "More, more, more."

You oblige, your hand coming down again and again, painting her ass with the sting of your palm. Each smack has her pussy clenching around you, her lips begging for more.

"I love this," she admits, shakily. "I love it."

You slap her again, and again, and again—each hit punctuating her moans. "Say it," you demand. "Say it louder."

"I love it, sir," she cries, the filthy fucking admission bouncing off the walls. "I love it, I love it, I love it!"

Her orgasm builds again, her body tightening around you, a vice. The tension in the air is suffocating, you’re fucking in for it now, dooming yourself to this delicious cycle of sin with every thrust.

Bae, your Bae, all pure white and angry red now, the beauty still standing despite your best efforts to bring it to ruin.

She's there, and you're done waiting.

"Now."

It's that fucking easy.

That's what you think as you watch Bae unravel all over again, all over you; slipping into that sweet, sweet oblivion that you’ve coaxed out of her.

"God, sir, fuck!"

Hammering into her, fucking her apart; through the pain, through the ruinous pleasure, pressing her up against the mirror, squishing her tits into the cold glass.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, sir, fucking me so good, making such a mess, you’re—" But that sentence dies before it even can get started, and all that tumbles out of her mouth is, “fuck—fuck—fuck—fuck—”

She’s fucking gone.

Bae crumbles against the mirror, and you fall into her, keeping your body glued to her back. The clenching, the shivering, the twitches and the gasps; the patchwork of bruises and bites and crimson you’ve left all over her.

You follow.

Something dark, a guttural grunt, and you pull out of her, this sloshing noise from her cunt as you do.

Without your cock Bae just falls to the ground, bracing herself against the wall while she gathers herself—twists her body into something beautiful.

Before you can even process what she’s doing, what’s happening at your feet, she’s in position; that pose again. And you realise what it was: the kneeling, the hands behind the back, the tits out, mouth wide open, tongue waiting.

A preview. A promise. An invitation.

“Sir, your cum, if you please—"

A sledgehammer to your fucking soul—that's what it feels like when you finish.

One, two, three pumps of your cock and your vision goes white, like someone's shone a fucking flashlight right into your eyes, and the only thing you have left is the intense, throbbing release all over Bae.

Ropes of it spurt from your cock, painting her face with thick, white streaks. There’s more sirs, more thank yous and pleases and fucks, (you swear you catch a daddy in there as it hits her); but she doesn't flinch—no, she opens her mouth wider, needy for every drop.

The first shot hits her square in the forehead, sliding down the bridge of her nose and into the waiting cavern of her mouth.

Another shot goes wide, spattering across that dark freckle on her cheek. Another hits her chin, another ruins her hair, the last sprays over her tits; all these shots just covering her, turning this fucking idol into your personal cumslut.

“God, yes, sir,” she slurs through the cum, earning every single drop, “I’m just covered in it. So, fucking much. It’s so good.”

A stumble back on your feet, a step away to assess the damage as you slowly stop pumping your cock. Bae on her knees before you, just drenched with your cum. Bae your client, if she still can be called that anymore.

What else could she be? Your lover, your sub, your obsession, your… what? You’re not quite sure what to call it, call her, other than a big fucking mess.

But, as you watch her happily lick your cum off her own skin, you can’t resist giving a final instruction. “Swallow.”

“Yes, sir.”

You are so, so fucked.

Bae, sweet and obedient, takes her finger, scooping up every trace of you from her cheek, her tits, all along the ridges of her abs. All this hot, hot white you’ve expended on her, marked and branded her with.

It all happens in slow motion; she laps it up, paints it over her lips, pushes it into her mouth. Sticking out her tongue, presenting it to you in one big sticky glob, making sure you're seeing nothing but her be such a good girl for you.

And down her throat it goes.

"Good enough, sir?"

You lean down, wipe the last drop off her temple with your thumb. She opens her mouth, helps you push it in, sucks on it greedily as if it’s the last taste of you she’ll ever get.

There’s a thought to give her more, to fill her mouth until she’s addicted to your flavour. But you don’t—not yet.

You must save some things for later.

Bae’s content to stay there, kneeling, cheek resting your thigh, utterly cum-drenched; fingers idly dancing along your softening cock, toying with the last few drops of cum that still cling to your shaft.

You break the silence with a sigh. “Guess I should get used to this, huh?”

Bae sings, “Every single session.”

“Christ.”

That draws a chuckle from her, and you shoot her a warning look as she dares to kiss your cock once more. “Care to show me how the shower works again?”

You roll your eyes.

“I mean, only if we have the time.”

At this point, you’d give her your every waking hour if you could. A glance at the digital clock on the wall has you guesstimating—"It'll be a squeeze."

Bae, never to miss an opportunity, “Isn’t that how you like me?”

“I thought we were going to stop with the wordplay."

"Can't help it, sir." Bae's arms snake around your leg, sidling just that inch closer. "You just bring it out of me."

"Ah, so it's my fault."

"Of course. This whole thing is your fault," she tells you, donning the expression of a saint; all wide-eyes and sweet smiles. "You just had to make me yours."

"Mine?"

"From now on, yes."

“In that case—” You bend down, lifting Bae up, hoisting her up in your arms as easily as any other weight in the gym. She giggles into your neck, her body fitting into yours like you've been doing this for years. The warmth of her, the press of her breasts into your chest, her legs looping around your waist—it’s all so natural. “While we still have some time left.”

“Before your next client?” She asks, oh-so-innocently, like she isn't prying, isn't trying to make a home for herself in the remaining hours of your day.

“Sullyoon.”

“Oh,” Bae says once, processing, and then again, “Ohhh.”

You blink, trying to keep up with wherever her mind is racing to next. “What?”

The smile that widens on her face is going to haunt you, you can tell. “Oh, nothing,” she says, but she’s got a secret she’s just dying to share.

But she won’t, not yet.

Bae’s fingers trace a pattern down the centre of your chest, playing over your sternum, circling your navel, and then—there’s that smugness again—heading south. “I was just thinking I might stick around for your next session.”

It’s a declaration, not a question. The way she says it, so casual, so flippant, it’s like she’s talking about sticking around to watch a movie, not grossly overstepping even more lines before you get a chance to redraw them.

And then you're back at square one.

“Just to make sure you and her keep things strictly professional."

[dwaekkicidal]

👾 anon making a comeback!

what about 2min teaching another member who just got a gf how to fuck her properly? like, they have a toy or something for the other member to practice on while 2min demonstrates on reader?

i could imagine the other member thrusting into the toy wrongly and lee know just goes ‘nononono, like this’ and thrusts into reader for the nth time and overstims them.

while one of 2min is fucking reader, the other is trying to make reader stop being so loud and shoves their cock into readers mouth.

and to top it all off, since reader literally cannot stop convulsing theres a bit of collar play and 2min tugs on the collar when they need to and theyre unphased but reader is out here drooling all over themselves

im nasty, what can i say? 👾👾👾

oh my fucking god?? U ARE NASTY BUT THANK U FOR THIS

this is 1k words LMFAO oopsie..

something about them making the other member use a toy instead of their own girlfriend is so.... humiliation kink at its finest

like them saying something along the lines of "if you can't fuck her properly, you can't get her at all" and its not even their girlfriend to make such bold commands?? ugh

i can picture this being hard/mean dom! jeongin's awakening

so lets picture this. virgin!innie who hasnt even seen a vagina until the first time you two got intimate. and even then, the few times you two have been intimate only included mutual masturbation

so i bring you!! closeted mean dom 2min who offers their help to their poor maknae!

he goes to them first, expressing his worries about not performing well enough for his girlfriend- and about how he doesn't want to embarrass himself by not being able to pleasure you properly!

so he gets 2 of his favorite hyungs in his room seated on either side of you. their hands are all over you, from showing jeongin how to finger you properly, and describing to him how to curve his fingers the way you like it.

and how do they know he's performing well enough? well that would be all thanks to the fleshlight they bought him :)

its clear so they can see through it, watching his fingers every move. and he has such long, pretty fingers, so it would be such a shame if they went to waste? "thank god we're teaching him this too, right y/nnie?"

they make you cum twice on their fingers, one time each man so they can give their own two advice and show off their techniques. so can they really blame you for subconciously fighting back when seungmin slides his cock inside of you?

not really... but that wont stop minho from forcing both of your wrists into one of his. it also wont stop seungmin from thrusting even harder into you, quickly getting distracted with your tight cunt and forgetting the whole goal of the situation

he basically uses you as his own personal fleshlight until you both cum, jeongin cumming around the same time. you and jeongin are barely given a break before minho is pouncing with an order for the maknae to "get to it"

minho's a lot bigger and fucks into you faster and harder than seungmin, rolling his hips roughly and teaching jeongin to do the same. he sometimes even compares it to certain dance moves from their choreos and will slow his own thrusts to watch closely and make sure the maknae is moving correctly

once he's sure the boy has learned, minho's so rough with it that your eyes feel permanently rolled to the back of your head, his tip constantly pummeling into your sensitive walls.

it gets to the point where you cant control yourself when your nails start to rake down his arm! >< its just "too much!"

it makes him mad and he slaps your hand away, not wanting marks, only to be made even more upset when you push your hand against his lower stomach with begs for him to give you a break

but he has no plans to stop, not even after you've came yet again. and who are you to give him orders right now??? so he whistles for seungmin to help, and youre absolutely stunned when a piece of leather slides around your neck and gets buckled by the puppy man himself

he tosses the end of the leash to minho and helps him flip you over, manhandling you onto your hands and knees

at this point, jeongins completely zoned out. he's not nearly as overstimulated as you, but as his 2nd orgasm builds and as he's forced to watch some of his closest friends pound his dear girlfriend int his mattress, he feels like he's floating on another planet

so what happens when you're finally let go by seungmin and minho? what do you think happens when they leave your apartment, after teaching jeongin about aftercare, and you're left alone, still sensitive with your oddly quiet boyfriend?

not sleeping. thats for sure :) you're lucky he loves you and doesn't want to push your body too far, yet. so he'll only fuck you to orgasm once, but he's gonna be like a new man reborn, hips fucking into you faster than either of the men did earlier.

they didnt teach him this, but it comes all too naturally when he shoves his fingers into your mouth and pushes down against your tongue

the drool that drips down his wrist is almost enough to make him laugh, but the little semblance of jealousy in his veins tells him to do something more

he uses the spit on his fingers to pinch and massage one of your nipples, all while the other set of fingers are tangles in your hair and holds you flat against him.

he's so deep and your body has been through so much the last few hours that your own orgasm takes you by surprised, your legs shaking aggressively as your body convulses as best as it can with his iron grip on your head

& his mouth is so filthy as he uses you as his fleshlight- telling you that youre a little slut for enjoying the other men using you freely while he was forced to watch. he tells you how hes gonna use every last thing he saw you enjoy against you, from the leash & collar to the way your body was so happy at their rough hands on your- HIS pretty pussy

once hes finished he essentially redoes everything they did earlier for aftercare, adding in his own "spice" by running you a hot shower and kissing every inch of your body as he helps you wash off

he definitely gets hard again, but he'll deal with it himself while you sleep.

maybe if youre lucky, he'll wake you up with that pretty cock all up in your tummy again <3

Taglists: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa

@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed @moonlightndaydreams

[arolesbianism]

Starting a new oni save that's not a rime colony for the first time in forever and I am in agony how do y'all live like this (shaking and crying as it is forced to enter a mildly warm area for drekos)

[rin-may-1103]

The Wrong Robin Au (part three)

Previous | Master Post | Next

Danny never said he knew what he was doing, but he thinks he's doing something right if the kid hasn't started crying yet. so you know, that's great. now, he just needed to get the kid out of here, so Danny could have a moment to mourn his retirement plans.

He wasn't going to blame the kid, ancients know Danny would have gone back to hero work eventually. He just couldn't let things go if he could help it, and he could in this situation.

"Alright, here's the plan." Danny announced, slapping his legs as he stood up. "it's late, you're a kid who needs sleep. let's get you home, then we can get a game plan on how to do this."

Tim had been nodding his head, even if it was reluctantly, before freezing in sudden realization. Danny raised his eyebrow in question, wondering what was wrong now.

"you want my help?" Tim asked, absolutely gobsmacked.

Oh, the kid thought Danny was just going to send him away like any reasonable adult would. Ha, Danny wished. but no. He had no clue what he was doing and this kid was his only trump card for making any of the half-assed plans still forming in his head work. AND he had a feeling if he didn't keep Tim close by, the kid would run off and do something stupid.

"Yep," Danny snorted, "you were smart enough to figure out who Batman was, and then you decided to take it upon yourself to help him; whether by convincing me to do it or yourself."

"Now then," Danny said as he walked over to the couch and pulled his hoodie from under Sam. Sam, to her credit, told him to fuck off and went back to snoring. Tucker, somehow having heard her, responded with a 'Go fuck yourself'.

Shaking his head, Danny turned back to Tim. "Let's get going. It's-" Danny turned to look at the clock, his eyes narrowing when he found it; 4 am. The kid was up and coherent enough to try and blackmail someone into being Robin at four in the morning. "-four. you seriously need to get some sleep kid. It's a school night." actually, what day was it???

Tim rolled his eyes but started to follow Danny out the door. "It's Saturday, and I've stayed up longer," he grumbled.

Danny snorted, "So have I, but we still need to sleep." He should probably try and prevent the kid from staying up longer than he should. Danny knows what years of not sleeping properly does to someone. The kid's obsessed with Batman and Robin, right? He'll just use them then.

"Robin needs all the sleep he can get. Otherwise, Batman will bench him. If Robin is benched, then who is out there helping Batman?" That's convincing, right? Does Batman even have the power to bench Robin? From the sounds of it, Robin is his kid's vigilante name. Which means he totally has the power to ground them.

Wait...

If Danny was going to be Robin, does that mean Batman would think he's his kid?

Oh, hell naw. He was not going to be adopted by another fruitloop! If Bruce Wayne even thinks about it, Danny will be out of there so fast even the Flash couldn't stop him.

Tim stumbled, his eyes wide in surprise. "Really?" he asks, turning to look at Danny in horror. Danny blinked, brain failing to remember why the kid would be surprised.

shit, what were they talking about?? Robin... It's four am... Right!

"Yep," Danny chirped, leading the kid to his car. "Now, I know everyone says not to get into a stranger's car and all that jazz, but it's the only way I'm getting you home. So, hop in."

Tim didn't even hesitate to jump into the passenger seat, pulling the seat belt across his chest. Danny stared at him for a second, before opening the car door and sitting down.

"kid, you do know you're not supposed to get into strangers' cars, right?" Danny asked, closing the door and buckling up. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keys and started the engine.

"Well, yeah?" Tim replied, turning to face him, "But you're not a stranger. You're Robin. You protect people not hurt them."

and well? Danny can't argue with that, now, can he?

"Right, fine. Just promise not to get into strangers' cars. I don't care how much you think you know about them. It's not safe, and you could get hurt."

Tim hummed, thinking about it for a moment before nodding his head. "Yeah, alright. I promise."

"good." Danny sighed, turning to look at the road to see if it was clear. then he sighed again, "Don't tell strangers where you live, please."

Tim looked at him in amusement, a small smile spreading across his face. "Drake manor. 1015 Mountain Drive. It's in the Crest Hill community."

"You're killing me here, kid." Danny groaned, hitting his head against the steering wheel. Then he slowly lifted his head and turned to stare at Tim, "Kid. How the hell did you get all the way over here? Mountain Drive is all the way over in Bristol??? That's, like, twelve miles outside of city limits?"

"I have my ways."

Danny narrowed his eyes, "You bribed someone, didn't you."

Tim looked away from him, fiddling with his fingers.

sighing, Danny sat up and started driving down the road. They sat in silence for a while, just listening to the chaos that was Gotham City as they drove. Tim eventually slumped over, his head resting against the window.

It took a good thirty minutes before Danny could turn onto the bridge out of town. The traffic wasn't heavy, just the occasional car here and there. It was almost peaceful.

"Turn here," Tim suddenly instructed, startling Danny.

"Tim!" Danny cried, turning to look at the kid, then back at the road. although, he did do as the kid instructed. "don't do that! you'll give me a heart attack or something! Ancients!"

Tim blinked, then shrugged. "ok," he yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"my house is the one with really stupid-looking ducks carved into the gates." Tim supplied, waving his hand at the road ahead of them. "Bruce's is the one with bats, but you knew that."

"Right," Danny agreed. What were the chances that Batman happened to live in a place called Gotham and in a house with black iron gates covered in bats? It was almost as coincidental as Danny's last name sounding like Phantom. Fate really had quite the sense of humor, didn't they?

after they passed a few more dirt roads, Tim pointed at a specific one, "Turn here. The gates a little further back than everyone else's."

Danny hummed, turning the car onto the road. What was his life at this point? Driving children to their huge houses at four-thirty in the morning? agreeing to become Robin? coming out of retirement because a kid asked him to?

Bruce Wayne better appreciate all the effort this kid was going through...

A tall gate slowly popped into view, making Danny slow the car down until he could stop right in front of it. "Alright, kid. You're home. get some sleep. Go to school, I don't know, what do you rich kids do on the weekends? actually, you know what? It doesn't matter, do you have a phone?"

Tim blinked as he slowly unbuckled, "yes?"

"One that's not monitored by your parents or anyone else?"

"..."

Danny sighed, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his phone. "Here," Danny unlocked it, went to settings and pressed the factory rest option. Once the phone finished the reset, he quickly scanned through it to make sure it was all gone before adding his second phone number. once done, he tossed it over to the kid. "here, should work for now. Don't let anyone else have it."

If this was any other situation, Danny would have gone straight to the kid's parents; but considering it was past four in the morning and there wasn't a city-wide amber alert? He has a feeling the kid needs a safety net, and well? What better than a direct line to him?

"I can't just take your phone!" Tim cried, catching the phone before it could fall to the ground.

"It's my backup one. I tend to break my phone pretty often, so I always keep an extra one on me. my current number is saved on it, you can reach out and get in contact with me now." Danny waved off the kid's concern, reaching into the back of the car to grab a bag.

with how often his phone had broken during ghost fights and how frequently his parents dissected his phone for parts? It's a habit at this point to have a backup. or Ten. Pulling the bag to the front, Danny showed the kid what was inside.

"..." Tim blinked, then looked up at Danny. "why do you have a bag of broken phones in your car?"

"Because my phones keep breaking and I figured it would be easier to just keep them for extra parts than toss them. Now," Danny tossed the bag into the back, ignoring how it tipped over and spilled the contents all over the seat. He'd clean it up later. Maybe. "It's early. You need sleep, I need sleep. We can pick another day to sit down and build a game plan."

Tim sat in silence for a moment, staring at the phone in his hands, before glancing up at Danny. "You really mean it?" he asked, turning the phone around anxiously, "you really want my help?"

"kid, Tim," Danny started, tilting his head so he could make eye contact. "with how bad you say Batman's gotten? I'm going to need all the help I can get. Who better than the one who went out of his way to try and actually do something about it?"

Tim's eyes watered as he looked back at the phone. "ok," he whispered, nodding his head. Reaching up, he wiped his face clean before taking a deep breath and letting it out.

"ok," he repeated, voice stronger now. "I'll help. I want to."

"Good," Danny nodded in agreement, then smiled. "get some sleep kid, you need it."

"I don't need it," Tim grumbled, turning to open the door and get out. "but if that's what it takes for you to allow me to help, then I guess I can take a nap or something."

Danny snorted, watching as Tim closed the car door and started making his way to the gate.

as soon as the kid was out of view, Danny slammed his head onto the steering wheel and groaned. He had definitely jinxed himself earlier. How hard can being Robin be? Yeah right. He hasn't even gotten to meet Bruce yet and he's already stressed.

...

Glancing up, Danny watched as the clock glitched then turned to five am.

...

Well then, he might as well do something productive since it was unlikely he'd be getting any more sleep if he went back. Sam would be up by the time he got there, which meant he'd have to answer all of her questions... which would wake Tucker up, which would mean Danny'd have to explain all over again.

Glancing around, Danny suddenly realized something.

Batman.

Bruce Wayne was Batman.

Bruce Wayne; as in, Gotham's own himbo billionaire.

Who lives in Bristol.

Which is where he is right now. Logically speaking, he'd be able to find it pretty fast if he just looked at the gates. It's probably just a few houses from Tim's too, now that he thought about it...

Oh, this was a terrible idea, but when had that ever stopped Danny?

Jazz was so going to kill him for this.

Next

[okaylikeschaewon]

Chapter 9: Cherry Blossom

~5500 words, male reader, smut

“Maybe it’s just lust.”

“That didn’t feel like lust,” you argued.

“The way she kissed you, or the way you kissed her?”

“I don’t…” you stammered. “I’m a fucking awful person.”

“Okay hold up,” Sakura grabbed your hands, forcing you to sit down. “Tell me if I got this right. You slept with her because Chaewon told you to, and just now Zuha confessed she might have feelings for you, and then the two of you kissed?”

“She kissed me first.”

“Yeah, and then you kissed her back,” Sakura said gently. “Before we go further, I want you to take a deep breath and relax. You’re not a bad person, it’s going to be okay.”

“Alright,” you followed her advice, inhaling deeply before exhaling. “Thanks for hearing me out by the way, I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

“Well, you did come to me in a bit of a panic,” Sakura chuckled warmly. “But of course I’d hear you out.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize,” Sakura replied before adding shyly. “Thanks for trusting me.”

“What? Kkura, of course I trust you, that shouldn’t even be a question.”

“Let’s get back to the topic,” Sakura quickly changed the subject. “First of all, I don’t want you to tell Chaewon anything without getting your head straight.”

“I don’t want to hide anything-”

“I’m not telling you to hide anything or to lie,” Sakura interjected. “I’m just telling you that this was a lot to go through, and that I want you to promise me that you won’t rush into telling her this without properly thinking about it first.”

“Won’t Zuha just tell her anyway?”

“From what you’ve told me, there’s no chance of that happening.”

“How can you be so sure?” you questioned her confidence.

“You claim she was borderline in tears when she told you how she felt? There’s no chance she’d tell Chaewon, truthfully it’s probably really tough for her to even admit these feelings to you knowing that you and Chaewon are together,” Sakura explained. “Just trust me on this one.”

“Alright fine,” you replied. “I also don’t want Zuha to feel like she has no one to talk to about this.”

“We can figure that out later, right now I’m concerned about you and only you,” Sakura stated, letting go of your hands.

“So why exactly shouldn’t I go tell Chaewon right now?”

“Think about it, if you rush to tell her this instead of being a little tactful, you know her feelings will be hurt, especially if you don’t even understand it yourself,” Sakura explained slowly, clearly growing impatient. “Also, think about how Zuha would feel, she told you because she trusts you.”

“But-”

“No, you cannot tell Chaewon yet.”

“I-”

“Do you want to hurt her?” Sakura asked angrily, shooting daggers at you with her eyes. “If you do, then go. Go tell her. I’m sure it’ll work out fine.”

“Alright, alright I get what you’re saying,” you sighed. “So what should I do?”

“Let’s start with hearing what you actually think,” Sakura suggested, warming back up. “Be honest, do you have feelings for Kazuha?”

“I… don’t think so,” you answered, not nearly as confidently as when Chaewon asked you the same question.

“You don’t think so?” Sakura repeated your answer.

“It’s like… look, the sex was fucking amazing,” you explained.

“Thanks, not what I was asking.”

“Hold on, let me finish,” you continued. “The sex was great, but I haven’t had those feelings for Zuha before.”

“When you say before, does that mean you do have them now?”

“I… don’t think so.”

“Swee-” Sakura immediately paused, her cheeks turning bright pink. “Alright, I really think you should take the night to think about how you feel.”

“Hmm,” you ignored her little slip up. “I can do that.”

“Then tomorrow you’ll know if you should talk to Chaewon or Zuha first,” she continued. “I know you’ll make the right decision, whatever it is.”

“Okay, I’ll sleep on it,” you agreed with her plan.

“Also, is it okay with you if I talk to Zuha about this?” Sakura asked.

“I…” you pondered the question. Part of you wanted to say no because it was an odd scenario, but the other part of you knew that Sakura was smart enough to do it in a way that would work out. “Yeah, you can.”

“Thanks,” Sakura smiled before leaning forward and giving you a hug. “You’re a good person, I know you are.”

“I feel a lot better after talking to you.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Sakura smiled at you after letting go.

“This kinda reminded me of…” you let your voice trail off.

“I know what you mean.”

“Do you ever… think about those days?” you asked spontaneously without thinking. “Sorry, I know we agreed to move on and not talk about it anymore, that was a dumb question.”

“Yeah,” Sakura replied softly, staring at you with a blank stare. “All the time.”

“Kkura…”

“Remember that video we accidentally made?” Sakura giggled with an undertone of sadness to it, or perhaps nostalgia.

“How could I forget,” you smiled back at her, reminiscing about your past with the girl.

“I still have it.”

—

“You got this! No! Yes! Noooo.”

“Why am I so bad at this!”

“It’s okay my little cherry blossom, you were so close,” you reassured her while rubbing her shoulder. “Honestly that was just unlucky.”

“Play a round, I’m going to grab some water,” Sakura sighed with pure dejection, making no attempt to hide her sense of defeat.

It felt a tiny bit strange playing again after so long, but it didn’t take long as soon as your fingers felt those lovely mechanical keycaps. There was barely any need for a warm up - it helped that Sakura was considerably lower ranked than you. Not that you were proud to be smurfing, but it did make you feel pretty good knowing you weren’t completely washed at the game.

“How’s it going?” Sakura asked as she walked back into her room, still looking a bit down as she closed the door behind her.

“Oh I’m getting super lucky,” you lied, knowing very well how easy this game was so far. “Here, come finish this one.”

“Play it out, I’ll watch,” she said while taking a seat on your lap. “Wait, you’re… this isn’t even close.”

“Nah it’s not like that,” you teased while flashing the scoreboard for a brief second.

“How do you already have…” she sighed heavily, letting her shoulders noticeably drop as she slumped. “Don’t lose now.”

“I’ll try,” you replied while giving her a gentle kiss on the back of her head before positioning yourself in a way that you could see over her shoulder. “For you,” you added, letting go of the mouse for a moment to give her thigh a little squeeze.

Sakura’s delightful flowery shampoo was a bit distracting, but not as much as her firm ass on your lap. By a bit, you meant incredibly, you could feel the blood slowly moving to your crotch, but you forced yourself to stay focused. The game went on, despite Sakura’s body being right there between your arms, elimination after elimination with hardly any resistance. It was far from impressive in your eyes, but Sakura’s reaction made it feel special.

“Wow!” she gasped, doing a little hop on your lap after yet another successful teamfight. “Damn, you really make it look easy!”

That’s because it was easy, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t help but feel the corners of your lips rise at Sakura's animated reactions: The little cheers when you got an elimination, the gasps when you barely escaped. Her whole body would move and sway, almost as if she was unable to control herself, yet each little bounce of her ass also felt incredibly intentional - like she was trying to make you lose.

“You did it!” she shouted. “Clean sweep incoming?”

“I’m only playing this well because you’re sitting on my lap,” you praised her, hugging her while you waited for the last round to start, earning a little giggle from the adorable girl. “Now, stop being so cute.”

She brought her hands up to her mouth, stifling another giggle playfully. You gave her another little peck on the back of her head as you pushed toward the point. Just like the first round, this one went as smoothly as you would have imagined. That was, until, your team got a bit overzealous. Some may even say cocky, and in their defense it was probably in part due to how easy you were making this game for them.

“If you win this round I’ll give you head,” Sakura blurted out after seeing your team struggling. She definitely assumed it was already over.

Luckily for you, the other team clearly fluked their way to making this round competitive, and you turned it around without much contest. You couldn't help but smile at how easy they made it, silently thanking Sakura’s low elo for putting you up against them. The girl in question had leaned forward, hyper-focused on your gameplay. This did also result in her ass pressing even harder against your body - tempting you to forget about the game to bend her over the desk right then and there.

“Deal,” you teased Sakura after setting yourself up for a sure win.

“I forgot how good you were,” she commented quietly, watching the screen attentively in awe.

“How about this,” you continued after wiping the enemy team once again. “You finish off this game, see what you can do.”

“No no no, I’ll lose,” she quickly shot down the idea, leaning back almost in fear.

Ignoring her protests, you grabbed her arms and placed them on the keyboard and mouse.

“You got this, I believe in you,” you reassured her while nuzzling your face on her shoulder. She was shaking slightly, her nervousness was so ridiculously adorable. After placing your hand on top of hers, you steadied her slightly, calming her nerves. “Breath. You got this, it’s just a game.”

She took a deep breath before leaning forward slightly and focusing. You leaned back to give her space, and your eyes couldn’t help but take a peek at the gorgeous shape of her backside. The way her thin hips made the shape of her ass so much more defined drove you insane. After adoring her heart-shaped ass for a few moments, you shifted your attention to the game.

The way Sakura would maneuver her whole body when she would move in game, the way she would duck her head when she took cover, the way she would make little gasps and take sharp inhales every time she took a hit, it all accumulated into a whole package of irresistible cuteness. That endearing nature of her every action whenever she was gaming was something you found painfully adorable.

It was getting tense, any lead you had built up was erased at this point. Frankly, she should have lost already, but somehow she was holding on. While fumbling with her keys, she eventually equalized the situation again, but she was panicking. Despite that, you found it so exciting watching how into it she was, finding yourself engrossed in her gameplay.

“Come on, you got this,” you muttered under your breath, placing your hands on her hips. “You’re better than them.”

She was way too focused to reply, but you did notice a subtle shift in her posture as she moved forward even more. Her hands were no longer shaking at all, it looked like she was at least somewhat calm and in control now. You gave her hips a tiny little squeeze, reminding her that you were here with her.

The final engagement began. Once again, you were extremely grateful that the last opponent was terrible as mistake after mistake eventually led to Sakura being in a position of sure victory. As one opponent remained, she forgot about all the mechanics of the game and just pressed forward with seemingly nothing but a prayer going on in her head.

“Yes!” she squealed as the word ‘victory’ flashed on the screen.

“I never doubted for a second!” you cheered, squeezing her tightly from behind. “Knew you had it in you!”

Her heavy breaths and limp body made it seem like she had just run a marathon.

“Thanks,” she sighed, leaning backwards on your chest and rubbing your arms with her hands.

“What for? I didn’t do anything.”

“For believing in me,” she laughed, turning her head sideways to give you a kiss. “I didn’t even believe in myself.”

“Oh, well I did have some extra motivation,” she whispered, tightening your grip on her waist. “What were you saying you would do if I won this game again?”

She squirmed a bit, grinding her ass on your crotch very intentionally now.

“I think I said if you win,” she teased. “Last I checked, I’m the one who one.”

“Is that how we’re playing it?”

“I don’t make the rules.”

“Fine,” you said while sliding your hand towards her crotch, gently pressing down on the fabric of her pants. “Play one more game, if you can win again then I’ll do anything you want for the rest of the night.”

“And what if I lose?” she asked while starting the queue.

“You’re going to get a little punishment,” you whispered into her ear while pressing harder on her crotch, making little circles. “But you’re not going to lose, right?”

“R-Right,” she stammered, getting flustered by your touch.

As soon as the game started, you slipped your hand into her pants.

“Ah,” she gasped, “you know, you’re making it really hard to focus.”

“Am I?” you asked innocently, playing with her underwear. There was a growing wet spot, and the more you played with her the bigger it grew. “You did the same to me,” you dismissed her complaint. “It’s almost like I want you to lose.”

It was admirable how she was trying to ignore the stimulation, but her body simply could not hide how she really felt. Her soft, wet folds felt remarkable, even through her underwear. You gently moved your fingers around, smiling as she failed miserably in the game while her pussy got warmer from your touch.

The game so far was a complete stomp, not that you cared at all. At this point, you had slipped your hand into her underwear, rubbing her wetness around between your fingers. You had Sakura squirming like a puppet while you gently played with her clit, toying at the idea of slipping a finger into her pussy. It never happened, even as the game neared the end, you just kept teasing her with your fingertip pressing against her entrance.

“That’s not fair,” she whined as ‘defeat’ covered the screen. “You cheated.”

“Sorry, I don’t make the rules,” you teased back. “Looks like you lost.”

She squeezed her legs together in an attempt to get some reprieve from your fingers.

“What’s the little punishment?” she moaned as you kept trying to move your hand back and forth despite her tightly clenched thighs holding your wrist.

“Don’t think of it as a punishment for you,” you answered, standing up and removing your hand from Sakura’s pants. You brought your finger up to her mouth, letting her taste herself, while with your other hand you pressed down on her upper back until she was bent over her desk. “Think of it as more of a reward for me.”

“And what’s your reward?” Sakura asked, turning her head to look over her shoulder back at you.

“You’re my reward,” you replied, sliding both of your hands down the front of her waistband, feeling her body closely as you slid your hands around her hips until you reached either side of her body. In a single motion, you yanked down both her pants and underwear, letting them fall into a heap at her ankles.

Sakura stepped out of the clothes, kicking them to the side before swaying her ass side to side for you, giving you a show as you freed yourself of your own pants. She thought she knew exactly what was about to happen, but what she didn’t expect was the loud crack of your palm spanking her ass, sending ripples down her thighs.

“Oh!” she gasped in shock, looking back at you again.

“That’s because you’re still wearing a shirt.”

“I’m sorry babe,” Sakura stripped the shirt off before immediately bending over the desk again.

“Good,” you brought your palm down again, this time to her other cheek, eliciting another high pitched squeal from the girl. Without even lifting your palm up from her ass, you slid it up her body, feeling her toned back meticulously, wrapping your hand around her body and cupping her left tit in your fingers. “Ready to get fucked?” you whispered into her ear from behind while pinching her nipple between your fingers.

“Ah,” Sakura’s shriek pierced your ears as she jolted violently at your touch. “Fucking punish me babe.”

Your cock was itching to enter Sakura, practically begging as it twitched. You let go of her nipple, slapped her ass with your hand again and spread her cheek. With your other hand, you lined your cock up with her pussy, getting ready to take what you so desperately desired.

“Wait,” Sakura reached over and opened the top drawer of her desk, pulling out a small bottle that she held for you to take.

“Why do you-” you paused, accepting the bottle before you realized what was going on. “Oh.”

“If you’re going to punish me, punish me properly,” Sakura moaned, reaching back with both hands to spread her ass for you.

Your girlfriend spoke to you in ways no one else could, she did something to you that just drove you to be absolutely psychotic for her. The view of her bent ninety degrees over her desk reaching back with both hands to present her asshole to you was driving you absolutely feral. Taking Sakura in the ass was usually saved for special occasions; It was always an astounding experience.

Did you know why today was a special occasion? No. Did you care? No. Were your hands trembling in anticipation as you opened the bottle of lube? Yes. You flipped the bottle over and squeezed a hefty dollop of lube at the top of Sakura’s ass, letting it spill down slowly. It was difficult to stay patient, but you took your time to make sure she was completely slick, using your hand to spread the lube thoroughly.

Her soft ass, glistening as you massaged the lube into it, felt like heaven between your fingers. You could tell she was getting excited, but Sakura stayed silent, committing to the bit. She wasn’t about to show you her elation - this was a punishment after all.

It was, however, a punishment only by name. You knew how much Sakura loved taking it in the ass, so you wanted to make sure she actually enjoyed it to her full potential. Once you were satisfied with how slippery and shiny her body had become, you wiped whatever was left on your hand across your shaft. The idea of lubing up your cock as well immediately disappeared when you noticed Sakura’s pussy was literally dripping at this point.

After lining up behind her, in one slow and continuous motion, you pushed your cock into Sakura’s pussy until your thighs pressed into her soft ass. You held your cock balls deep in her for just a couple of seconds before moving back equally as slowly, leaving Sakura moaning as your cock left her pussy.

Her pussy, ever so slightly spread now, was glistening before you. Part of you wanted to go back in, but your true objective was lubed up staring right at you. Sakura’s tight asshole was begging for your cock at this point, welcoming your cock. You gave yourself a couple of quick strokes, spreading Sakura’s wetness on your cock before you pressed your tip against her hole.

“Push back,” you commanded her, your tip just slightly spreading her tight asshole apart.

As she leaned back, the slickness of your bodies ended up flinging your cock upwards, slotting it between Sakura’s ass cheeks. You gave her ass another hard spank, as if it was her fault, before lining yourself up with her asshole again.

“Again.”

This time, you held your cock more firmly, letting Sakura do the work once more. It felt fucking divine as your cock disappeared into her asshole inch by inch. She kept pushing back, slowly but surely pushing into almost your entire cock was up her ass. She was tight - unbelievably tight - but it was perfect.

“There we go,” you groaned as you started pumping your hips into her steadily.

Sakura was clearly struggling, even with all the lube, but she never complained or stopped. She moved her hips as much as she could, trying to match your pace at least to some degree. The two of you ended up working together, fighting against the tightness of her asshole as it was sending electric shocks up your spine, the tightness and heat combining in a beautiful mosaic of pleasure, attacking all the nerves in your cock.

The view was equally as beautiful. Sakura’s toned back staring right at you, the way her head dipped down each time your cock pressed forward, her shoulder blades retracting as her arms stretched out, it was all so surreal. Despite her obvious struggle, it was clear that she was enjoying herself, confirmed by one of her hand’s slipping down between her legs.

Her asshole kept taking your cock for a bit longer. Her pussy, with the help of her fingers, launched droplets of her wetness down her inner legs. She was a complete mess at this point, her lower body completely soaked. Her legs even began to tremble slightly.

The signs of her pleasure just gave you all the more motivation to start pushing deeper. Each time you pushed your cock into her ass, you were nearly going all the way. With how well she was taking it now, nothing could hold you back as you started thrusting faster and harder, easing her into more intensity. That was until you had a new idea.

“Turn your webcam on,” you instructed her, pausing your thrusting for a second.

Sakura reached for the mouse, navigating her way through menus while your cock was still balls deep in her asshole. Each time she was about to click, you gave a little half thrust, making her miss again and again.

“Fuck off,” she moaned, desperately clicking until she got the webcam open. “Now what?”

“Fullscreen it, I wanna watch your face while I fuck you.”

She tried to follow your command, but your cock was ready to go and you had started pumping her tight little asshole properly now. She got absolutely no reprieve, not an ounce of amnesty as your cock invaded her body over and over again.

“I can’t fucking…” she cried out before giving up on trying to click entirely, remembering she could fullscreen it by pressing ‘F’ on the keyboard. She slammed her hand against the keys, finally succeeding.

“Good girl,” you taunted her, pausing again to give her ass another hefty slap.

Sakura began checking herself out in the webcam, trying to fix her hair while your hand squeezed and groped her asscheek. You pushed your cock back and forth slowly, enjoying the tight grip of her asshole, watching as Sakura’s face strained itself in a mix of pleasure and struggle. Once she was content with how her hair looked, she bent forward, putting her elbows on the desk.

“The whole point was so I can watch you get fucked,” you grunted as your cock got closer and closer to your orgasm, grabbing a handful of her hair and yanking it back roughly while making sure not to actually hurt her, forcing her head back.

“Then hurry up and fuck me,” she moaned, leaving her mouth open while her head was controlled by the grip you had on her hair. “Fucking cum in my ass already.”

With your free hand, you gave her ass yet another hard slap - this one echoed in the room. You could see Sakura’s reaction so vividly - she definitely felt that one. At this point though, you actually didn’t care. You let go of her hair and grabbed her ass with both hands, struggling to get a proper grip because of all the lube and sweat coating her skin, but you pressed your fingers hard into her soft ass, gripping whatever you could.

Now, with your new support, you could give each thrust the entire force of your body. Each slam sent Sakura’s entire body shaking, threatening to break the desk she was so desperately clinging onto. There was a constant barrage of noises escaping Sakura’s lips combined with the burning pleasure flooding your cock as Sakura’s asshole brought you dangerously close to your orgasm.

It was impossible to stop now. Your vision was going blurry, your extremities were going numb, all the sensation in the world was being split between your ears and your cock. Her moans, her squeals, the constant porn-star level screams and shouts, muffled only in part by the sound of skin on skin whenever your cock jammed itself into her tight ass.

There wasn’t much left in the tank, you were starting to lose strength as you rode the brink of your orgasm for as long as you could. You were hyperventilating at this point, using every remaining ounce your body could muster to keep going, to keep pumping your beautifully tight girlfriend.

At long last, your cock began exploding inside Sakura’s ass. The overwhelming pleasure froze your entire body, sending two or three more torrents of cum deep into her body. Once the most intense moment passed, you coaxed the rest of your cum out by pumping her ass again, moving your hips more slowly and methodically now, timing each thrust with each spurt of cum.

Finally you looked back up, leaving your cock embedded balls deep in Sakura’s ass. She had let her head fall again, her shoulders bouncing up and down with each heavy breath she took. Her hands, balled up in fists, were still trembling on the desk as you grabbed her hair, twisting your hand to get a handful of it, and pulled back so that she was extending her neck backwards. You forcefully pressed your mouth against her slightly parted lips, her warm breath hitting you.

“I’m never getting tired of this,” you moaned into her mouth. “I fucking love you, my little cherry blossom.”

“I love you… too…” she panted back, still struggling to breathe.

It was finally time, as your cock began to soften, to pull out. With a hand on her ass, you pulled your hips back. It was like watching a dam burst with how much cum gushed out of her asshole as soon as you removed your cock.

“Fucking hell,” you panted, sitting down on the floor and scooting back so that your back was resting against the base of Sakura’s bed. In front of you, Sakura was still bent over her desk with her ass up, using her arms to hold herself up as the bend of her knees made it clear her legs could no longer hold her body up. It was quite the view for you to enjoy, watching as your cum slowly dripped out of Sakura’s asshole and onto the floor. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Sakura answered softly. “But my ass is killing me right now.”

“Come here.”

Sakura pushed herself up off the desk with her arms before turning around, gingerly walking over to you. She lowered herself to the ground, sitting next to you on her side to prevent her ass from touching the floor, leaning against you with her arms around your torso.

“You were such a trooper tonight,” you whispered gently as you wrapped your arm around her body before giving her a kiss. You very lightly slipped your hand between her cheeks, using one finger to massage her asshole. “Does that feel better?”

“Mhmm,” she moaned cutely.

“Good,” you kissed the top of her head as you ran circles around her asshole with your finger.

“Want me to clean your cock off?” Sakura asked casually, sliding one hand down and giving you a couple of playful pumps.

“It’s alright, you’ve done enough for me already.”

“I always do this,” Sakura completely ignored your denial, bending forward over your lap, pausing for just a second to look back at you. “Please only one finger tonight.”

Even though you couldn’t see past the back of her head, you could vividly feel the warmth of her mouth the second she put your cock into her mouth. She sucked your cock with no regard for how filthy the act was, she had absolutely no hesitation - that was probably the hottest part of it all. You let her do her work while your body came back to life, somehow after all that you could feel your cock stiffening yet again.

As per her request, you carefully inserted just your middle finger a knuckle deep into her asshole, being as slow and cautious as possible. You paused for a second when you felt her mouth stop moving, making sure she wasn’t uncomfortable. Once you felt her tongue start swirling around your cock again, you started to gently massage the inside of her asshole.

The mixture of lube, cum, tightness, and warmth felt surprisingly nice on your finger. Hopefully it felt equally nice for Sakura, the girl deserved it with how much enthusiasm she was putting into sucking your cock right now. Her tongue was working overtime, licking every single bit of your shaft, while her lips moved up and down your tip rapidly.

It all happened so fast, without warning you felt a sudden rush of sensation in your cock. Within seconds, you felt your cum launch directly into Sakura’s mouth with the force of a bullet. You were paralyzed briefly as your cock began spewing cum all over her mouth, filling her to the point of overflow, the warm goo mixed with Sakura’s saliva began landing on your crotch.

“Oh my fucking God,” you gasped, regaining consciousness.

“Fin’er,” Sakura moaned at you as she turned her head to face you, a gush of white spilling out of her lips.

“What?” you asked, before realizing you had shoved your finger all the way into her asshole. “Oh!” you gasped before quickly pulling it out.

Sakura gulped heavily, wiping the tears from her eyes as the cum that didn’t spill onto her chin rushed down her throat. She lay her head down on your legs, her cheek against your thigh.

“That really fucking hurt,” she whined. “And no warning?”

“My ba-”

“Have I been punished enough for my actions yet?” she asked, pouting her lips at you.

“Yes, your punishment is over,” you smiled at her, grabbing your limp cock and placing it on her face playfully.

She smiled at you adorable before giving your cock a quick kiss and getting up to her feet.

“We’re both messes,” she stated, looking back over her shoulder and spreading her ass, letting some more remnants of your cum spill to the floor. “I’m not ‘cleaning’ you up out here again, not after that. You can join me in the shower if you want my help this time.”

“Sorry about the finger,” you apologized.

“Don’t worry about it,” she laughed proudly. “With how much you filled my mouth with, I can’t even be upset that you lost control.”

“I don’t know what happened, all of a sudden I just…”

“You’re welcome,” Sakura giggled, leaning down and kissing your cheek before turning around and walking gleefully towards the bathroom.

All you could do was stare at her glistening ass as it jiggled with every step, really taking in the fact that Sakura has been your girlfriend for almost a year at this point. In your eyes, she was perfect, she was everything you wanted in a girl. You couldn’t imagine a life without her being there by your side as your partner.

After a few seconds, you heard the shower turn on in the bathroom. As you got up to join her, you noticed something on the computer screen that must have happened when she was trying to fullscreen the webcam - she had started a recording.

---

A/N:

Ask and you shall receive, thank you for those who voted in that poll! I might end up doing polls every now and then again because you guys responded so well to it, and it absolutely motivated me to work on this fic. That being said, keep it up, I can't stress enough how much I love all the support my readers show, I'll continue to read every comment/message/etc.!

Random Sakura chapter. Well, random for you guys, I knew about this one coming of course. Hope you guys like it, this one took me a tiny bit longer than expected, partially because of life being busy, but mostly because I just couldn't quite figure out how I wanted to write some stuff out in this one. Regardless, it's done now, I'm too lazy to spend days proofreading and editing it.