#it's not all the names but it's the ones i like most

[rafecameronssl4t]

Saving Grace || CEO!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: When Rafe Cameron’s infamous temper threatens to derail the entire office, his wife is called in as the only person who can bring him back to earth.

Warnings: none!

Word count: 2,051

MASTERLIST

Rafe Cameron could be described in many ways: arrogant, sharp-tongued, perpetually stone-faced, and infamously hot-headed. His temper was a ticking time bomb, always moments away from detonation. It didn’t take much to set him off—a missed detail, an oversight, or even the wrong tone of voice—and once his mood soured, it had a ripple effect on everyone within his orbit.

If Rafe was in a foul mood, the entire office braced itself for the storm, knowing they’d bear the brunt of his frustration. Productivity stalled, morale plummeted, and an oppressive tension hung heavy in the air. No one dared to ask if he was okay or offer to fix the issue—it was simply understood that his temper had to run its course.

But there was one person who had mastered the art of disarming the bomb: his assistant, Rachael. If anyone in the office had something to say about Rachael, it was that she knew Rafe Cameron far too well. She had an uncanny ability to read his moods and an arsenal of strategies for defusing them. Most importantly, she understood the one surefire way to calm Rafe down: his wife.

The woman who he worshipped the ground she walked on, mother to his children, and the only person Rafe Cameron seemed to hold above all else. No matter how irritable or unapproachable he became, the mere mention of her name was enough to shift the atmosphere. So when Rachael watched one of her coworkers stumble out of Rafe’s office, barely holding back tears, she knew it was time to intervene.

Her sharp eyes scanned the room, noting the nervous glances exchanged between staff members who were all too aware of the storm brewing behind Rafe’s closed door. Without missing a beat, Rachael grabbed her phone, dialling a number she had memorised long ago. As the call connected, her tone softened—a stark contrast to the sharp efficiency she displayed in the office.

“Hi, Mrs. Cameron,” she began, her voice carrying a mixture of urgency and familiarity. “I hate to bother you, but it’s one of those days. If you’re free, I think a quick word with Rafe might do the trick.” She paused, listening intently before smiling to herself. Rachael didn’t need to explain much; Mrs. Cameron always seemed to know exactly how to handle her husband.

And while the office might dread Rafe’s infamous outbursts, Rachael found comfort in knowing there was someone who could bring the man back down to earth. She let out a small sigh of relief when she heard your calm, reassuring voice on the other end of the line. “I’ll be right there,” you said, your tone steady but with a hint of warmth that was reserved for conversations about your husband.

Without hesitation, you grabbed your car keys, slipping on a pair of heels as you prepared to leave. It wasn’t the first time you’d been called in to play peacemaker, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. Rafe’s temper was legendary, but you knew how to navigate it better than anyone else. You’d seen him at his worst, the raw edges of his frustration and anger, but you also knew the softer side of him—the part that melted when you walked into a room, the man who looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

As you slid into the driver’s seat, your thoughts briefly flickered to your children, safely at home with the nanny. You didn’t want to leave them, but you also understood that Rafe needed you. He might not admit it outright, especially not in front of his staff, but the subtle ways he sought you out after a rough day spoke volumes.

~

As you walked toward your husband’s office, the energy in the space shifted noticeably. Heads turned, relief washing over faces that had been tense just moments before. Hushed whispers followed in your wake, employees murmuring their gratitude for the one person who could tame the storm that was Rafe Cameron. Even without uttering a word, your presence commanded respect—graceful yet undeniably authoritative.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Mrs. Cameron,” Rachael said as she stood from her desk, her tone filled with a mixture of hope and exhaustion. “He’s in his office, and he’s miserable in there.” You glanced through the glass wall into Rafe’s office. Rachael hadn’t exaggerated—his frustration was palpable. The furrow of his brow, the tight set of his jaw, and the restless movements of his hands screamed of a man on the verge of losing his patience entirely.

You offered Rachael a small, reassuring smile before making your way to the door, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor. You didn’t bother knocking—Rafe hated formalities when it came to you. The heavy sigh he let out at the sound of the door opening was immediate. His eyes remained locked on the papers scattered across his desk, his tone sharp and cold.

“I thought I said I didn’t want to be disturbed.” A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you stepped inside. “Does that include me?” you asked, your voice sweet and smooth, cutting through the tension. Rafe’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours. Instantly, his rigid posture softened, and the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift.

The frustration etched into his features melted away, replaced by a look that could only be described as unguarded affection. Just your presence had the power to undo him. Without a word, Rafe reached behind his desk and flicked a switch, causing the glass walls of his office to turn frosted, granting the two of you privacy. His voice softened, tinged with genuine curiosity and concern.

“What are you doing here, baby?" You walked around his desk, your movements fluid and deliberate, and Rafe turned in his chair to face you fully. Standing in front of him, you saw the shift in his expression—the hard edges of his day crumbling as he looked up at you. And there it was, the look that never failed to steal your breath.

No matter how difficult or frustrating his day had been, Rafe always looked at you like you were his entire world, as though you hung the moon and stars just for him. In his eyes, there was nothing but pure, unfiltered love—a stark contrast to the icy exterior he showed everyone else. You leaned down, your fingers brushing lightly against his jaw as you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

His shoulders visibly relaxed at the familiar touch, the tension from his day dissolving. “You’re scaring your employees,” you teased softly, your words accompanied by a light chuckle as you straightened up. Rafe let out a dramatic sigh, leaning back in his chair and rolling his eyes. “They’re ridiculous,” he muttered, his tone laced with both irritation and amusement.

“They’re terrified,” you corrected, folding your arms and raising a brow at him. “I saw one of them practically in tears.” Rafe groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not my fault they can’t handle a little pressure.” You gave him a knowing look, stepping closer and resting your hands on the armrests of his chair, effectively boxing him in. “Rafe, you can be a little… intense,” you said gently, your eyes locking with his. “And by ‘a little,’ I mean a lot.”

His lips quirked into a smirk, his hands instinctively finding your waist. “You don’t seem scared of me,” he said, his voice dropping into a softer, almost teasing tone. “That’s because I know the real you,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “The one who spoils me, reads bedtime stories to the kids, and eats all the burnt pancakes I make without complaining.”

He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling from his chest. “You know I love those burnt pancakes,” he murmured, tugging you closer until you were practically sitting on his lap. “Hmm,” you hummed playfully, trailing your fingers along the lapel of his blazer. “Maybe I should remind your staff that under all that brooding, you’re just a big softie.”

“Don’t you dare,” he warned, though his smirk betrayed the emptiness of his threat. You laughed softly, pressing another kiss to his lips before pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. “Then maybe try to be a little nicer? For me?” He sighed, feigning reluctance, but the way his hands tightened on your waist betrayed his surrender. “Fine,” he said, his tone mockingly begrudging. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” you said with a satisfied smile, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “Now, why don’t you take a break? Let me help you relax before you scare anyone else.” Rafe’s smirk softened into a genuine smile, the love in his eyes shining brighter than ever. “You really are my saving grace,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere.

[reasonsforhope]

Sports have gotten more and more environmentally friendly, whether it's by reducing plastic waste at arenas, or producing medals with recycled materials. But what if the sport itself was devoted to directly helping the planet? Take a look at SpoGomi, a competitive sport in which teams collect garbage and litter within a time limit and specified area. People get to exercise and improve their communities while simultaneously reducing pollution. It's an overall win!

The name “SpoGomi” comes from “sports” and “gomi,” which means “trash” in Japanese. SpoGomi was created in Japan in 2008 as a way to promote trash collecting in an effort to aid the environment and push back on the climate crisis. “The marine litter problem is becoming increasingly serious worldwide,” reads a message from SpoGomi. “Approximately 80% of the garbage in the ocean is said to come from land (cities), and picking up garbage is the ‘last line of defense' to prevent this from happening. By connecting countries and people, we have expanded our circle even further around the world.”

Now, supported by The Nippon Foundation, the sport is so popular that there are competitions around the world, including the first SpoGomi World Cup, which was held in Japan in November 2023. People from 20 countries and all of Japan's prefectures participated, with the UK team coming out in first place.

SpoGomi is more than simply picking up trash, though, as there's a whole set of rules. These game rules are flexible depending on the area and litter to be picked up. Generally, teams are made up of three to five members who have to collect as much trash as possible within a designated area and time limit. The most common duration is an hour for picking up trash plus another 20 minutes to correctly sort it.

Some trash can be extra damaging to the environment or harder to spot, meaning each piece of litter gets a different amount of points. According to Nippon.com, the rules for World Cup regional preliminary rounds have burnable and nonburnable trash at 10 points per 100 grams, cans and bottles at 12 points, and PET plastic bottles at 25 points. The crown jewel of competitive trash picking are cigarette butts, which will get the team 100 points each.

Other rules stipulate that teams cannot pick up trash that is already in bins that belong to someone else. Since everything must fit into the trash bags that are provided, they cannot pick hazardous waste or bulky items either. And since this is meant to improve the local area, any method of transportation other than walking is frowned upon.

In the end, all participants can bask in the pride of making the environment just a little bit cleaner and healthier. Udagawa Takayasu, a spokesperson for The Nippon Foundation, even admits, “I participated in a preliminary tournament held in Japan just last weekend. Although our team could not win and I faced frustration, the city became markedly cleaner. I think it's one of the fascinating aspects of SpoGomi, even if you don't win, it leaves you with a positive sentiment.”

-via My Modern Met, May 20, 2024

--

Hell yeah, gamify this shit!

[delusional-day-dreamer]

Sleepy Girl - p.b.

‣ paige bueckers x gf reader!

‣ wc: 2k of smut 😛

‣‣ synopsis: waking up in the morning horny and ur girlfriend is right there tbh (ending is kinda rushed and the fic is not yet edited so please bear with me)

‣‣‣ a/n: hey guys... i know i completely ghosted this app for a good while but thank you for all the support even while i was MIA. this idea came to me at 11pm on vacation and i figured i should grind it out and make a return. i have a lot of drafts and ideas i came up with but no idea if i'll be able to write them all. in the meantime enjoy and happy holidays!

The warm sunlight spilling in to your bedroom and directly onto your face from the small gap in your curtains seemed to have it out against you.

It was one of the incredibly rare weekends of the season, where your girlfriend, Paige, didn’t have morning practice, lifting, or any PT sessions for residual pain after coming back home late from a basketball game (UConn won, obviously) and the two of you planned to make the most of it.

Having been in a relationship for almost a year now, the two of you had gotten to know each other pretty well over time. From working with the basketball team as a photographer to sharing a class with Paige, to running into each other literally everywhere every single day, metaphorically and physically, the universe seemed to have an intricate plan to bring the two of you together. And with such insistent force, who were the two of you to rebel?

The past ten months dating Paige had been a small roller coaster, the days spent together blissfully were obviously accompanied by the occasional argument of time management or messy rooms or even slight jealousy, but it was nothing the two of you couldn’t work through.

And of course, it was all accompanied by the mind blowing sex you couldn’t stop having. Bent over the kitchen counter, in the shower, in the living room, standing up, from the back, you name it.

But, there was one thing you and Paige had discussed exploring, but never gotten the chance to pursue, and it seemed like this morning was the perfect chance to test it out.

Depending on who woke up first, the two of you often liked to wake the other up with gentle kisses, roaming hands, and sweet nothings. But your synced ovulation cycles brought on a new possibility: morning head.

Although the concept of fucking your girlfriend while she was asleep seemed… well, odd to say the least, the two of you had discussed consent extremely thoroughly, and you weren’t going to sit (or lay in this instance) here and pretend that the sight of Paige laying in your bed right now wasn’t actively turning you on.

She had come to your off campus apartment immediately after her game at XL center and crashed pretty fast, only stopping to shower change into an old, oversized yet cropped off the shoulder sweatshirt of yours and a pair of boxers she left in your drawers.

Currently, she was conveniently splayed out on her back, her left arm stretched above her head raised the hem of your sweatshirt upwards, exposing the curve of her chest and the slightest glimpse of her pink nipples, which were already slightly peaked from the cold air radiating from your fan.

It didn’t take long for you to make up your mind, softly crawling over to rest in between her legs as you leaned over her sleeping figure, using your left hand to gently lift the fabric over her perky tits, exposing her creamy skin to you. You slowly peppered kisses on her boobs, not wanting to create too much stimulation that would wake her before you got to the more exciting part. Although, you weren’t sure you would have to worry about that. Paige could sleep through a hurricane if she was tired enough.

You nipped and sucked at her chest, making sure to pay special attention to her nipples before beginning your descent down her toned abs, bringing your hands to rub at her thighs simultaneously.

Paige groaned softly in her sleep, unconsciously spreading her legs out wider as your fingers danced over the waistband of her boxers.

Deciding that there was no reason to be a tease, especially with the growing ache in between your own legs, you hooked your fingers in her boxers and pulled them downwards, being extremely careful when taking them off her body fully and throwing them off into a corner of your room.

You shift lower, aligning your face with Paige’s already wet cunt as you grip her thighs and blow into her folds lightly, gently arousing her.

You start softly, small kisses and hickeys leading inwards before you finally allow your tongue to lick a long stripe from her entrance up to the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her breath slightly hitch.

Even in her sleep, Paige’s body was actively reacting to the growing pleasure as you circled her clit with your tongue and hummed into her, sending shockwaves running through her body, legs spreading, mouth dropping open with low moans, and back arching.

And yet, she was still asleep. You had no interest in waking her up forcefully, it would defeat the whole purpose of morning head. So, you dutifully detached your lips from her clit, opting to replace it with your thumb as you run your fingers through the slick she had accumulated before inserting your middle finger into her, curling it upwards in the way you knew she loved, which seemed to do the trick.

Her eyes began to flutter open the moment you added in your ring finger, mouth dropping with a groan as her right hand reaches out to cup the side of your face.

"Good morning," you rasp out, your breath hot against her sensitive cunt as you smirk at the already fucked out expression on her face.

"Fuck baby, God I didn’t think it would be this good when we talked about-”

Her sleepy whines were cut off with another loud moan as you reattached your lips to her clit, pressing into her g-spot with your fingers while simultaneously sucking her clit, small laughs vibrating through her core as you watched her body shudder at your actions. Her hand immediately moved up to your scalp, placing a firm grip in your head as she secured your spot deep between her legs, anchoring you in place.

"Aw shit ma, fuck you're so good at that, right there just like that, such a good fucking girl for me, don't stop mama you're gonna make me cum," her breathless rambles were endless as she used her left hand to play with her already exposed nipples.

The added stimulation pushed her closer to the edge, and it wasn't long before her muscular thighs began to shake around your head, closing around the sides of your face as she began to grind her hips into your mouth, chasing every second of her orgasm as her mouth hung open with cries.

She eventually let up after you finished licking her clean, even making a show of pulling your fingers out of her and sucking her juices off of them. Her gaze darkens as she pulls you up and over her body once again, capturing your lips in a deep kiss.

She nips at your bottom lip before pulling away, feigning annoyance in her tone. "As much as I loved the little stunt you pulled just now, shit pissed me off too. Brought this up in the first place cause I wanted to surprise you."

"Actin' like it's that big of a deal P, you can just do it a different morning," you teased, hand running up and down her side.

"Mm, whatever. All I care about right now is gettin' you right ma," she mumbles against your lips, reconnecting your lips as she slips her tongue into your mouth, grabbing your ass and rolling your hips into her at the same time.

"Nuh uh, it's your day to pillow princess. Lemme spoil you a little bit. You're still tired and sore from your game yeah? Besides, I have a better idea," you insisted, rising up and straddling her waist.

You shoved your sweater off her body before Paige's large hands pulled your grey tank top up and over your head, tossing it somewhere either of you couldn't be bothered to check. Her hand pressed into your mid back, forcing you to arch over her, conveniently placing your perky tits right over her mouth.

Her teeth scraped against your stiff peaks as her other hand, which had quickly returned to its place resting on your ass, began rocking your hips back and forth over her abs, drawing out deep sighs of pleasure from the multiple sources of friction and stimulation.

"Fuck Paige," you whined out, "why you gotta make it so hard for me to take care of you sometimes," you half-heartedly reprimanded, pinching her nipple roughly as you tore yourself away from her, shimmying your basically non-existent thong off as you resettled yourself in between her legs.

"Crawl up to the headboard," you demanded, raising your eyebrow at her inquisitive expression.

"Please," you added in with a soft pout, satisfied when she complied with your request. You eagerly followed her body, stationing your hands on her shoulders as you draped your right leg over her left, maneuvering her right in order to rest over your own left before gently lowering yourself down, hissing the moment your cores met.

You rolled your hips forward tentatively, moving your left hand down to Paige's right thigh while you sank forward, circling your other arm around her neck as you moaned against her lips.

The kiss was a needy, open mouthed mess of saliva and moans as you continued to roll your hips into Paige's with the help of her guiding hands, shocks of pleasure licking your spine every time your clits aligned.

As you approached closer to your orgasm, your head tipped back, mouth hung open with desperate, borderline pornographic whines constantly spilling out, impairing your ability to kiss Paige back. Though, she would never complain and simply kept her mouth busy by sucking hickeys along your neck and chest, whispering filthy words of encouragement into your skin.

"My girl's such a slut for me, huh? Riding me so good, pussy so wet she's dripping all over me, 's basically crying for me ma. You like that?"

Her gravely voice added to the fuzzy feeling that had taken over your brain, driven only by the tight coil threatening to snap any second in your belly. From the feeling of yours and Paige's warm slickness coating your entire cunt, to the deep throbbing you clit was experiencing.

You moved your left hand from Paige's thigh up to the headboard, using it to grind down harder against Paige's center, and the pressure on your clits had moans ringing out from both of you.

"God, Paige. So close baby, fuck I'm so close," you whined near incoherently, eyes screwed shut from the way your entire body was on fire, on the edge of immense pleasure.

She moved her mouth to the sweet spot behind your ear, nipping at the skin as she her fingers deftly began tweaking your nipples. "Cum for baby, give it to me. Please need it so bad."

You cry out as a freight train of an orgasm hits you, Paige's words and hands sending you over the edge, and the sight of you coming undone, not to mention the sounds you were letting out, left Paige no choice but to follow your lead.

Your body shuddered against hers, the pleasure slowly washing over you, leaving you breathless and extremely sensitive. You untangled your legs from Paige, collapsing on the bed next to her and pulling her down with you.

You kissed her sweetly, intimately, a far cry from the sex you were just having.

"I love you so much you know that?" You muttered against Paige's lips, cracking your eyes open to see the lazy smile set on her face.

"I love you too, even though I'm pissed you stole my surprise," she whispered defiantly.

"What you don't think those two orgasms made up for it? We can go for round two if you really insist," you smirked, knowing that there was no way your body could handle another orgasm immediately.

Before she can even answer, your stomach growled loudly, inciting loud laughter from both of you.

"How about we take care of that first yeah? We can go for round two in the shower after breakfast," she responded slyly, pulling you up and out of bed with her to get dressed and have breakfast together. To you, nothing in the world could beat mornings like these with Paige.

[yanderenightmare]

Can you write more for naoya zenin? Your writting is soo good omg, i was thinking about ex husband naoya

Naoya Zenin

♡ TW: toxic relationship, toxic family, arranged marriage, obsessiveness, possessiveness, denied divorce, abuse, kidnapping

♡ FEM reader

Ex-husband Naoya, who refuses to sign the papers as there’s no such thing as divorce in the Zenin clan—who says it’s shameful and that you should know better than to think you can just walk away from him just like that.

Ex-husband Naoya, who is very clear about it—how if you leave, it will be with nothing to your name—nothing but the clothes on your back, and barely even that—because everything you have is owned by him—and the only reason he’s ever been willing to share it is because you’ve paid for it in his bed.

Ex-husband Naoya, who can’t believe it when you leave him anyway—who’s certain he’s coming home to a dutiful wife, all silly ideas put to rest, sweetly apologetic for ever having raised the thought—but instead comes home to a quiet, cold, and empty house—divorce papers the only trace you’ve left behind.

Ex-husband Naoya, who immediately has the Zenin clan shun your clan and makes sure all other clans do the same, completely cutting you off—telling your clan leaders that until they deliver on their side of their alliance and have you return to your rightful place, their clan is to be held in contempt.

Your family begs you to go back to him, to stop this rebellion you’re so childishly insisting on. Your father even commands you, but you’re done taking orders from men—and their brainwashed wives. You don’t owe them anything—they’re the ones who sold you off to that misogynistic madman in the first place. Serves them right to suffer the way you have.

And so, you go off on your own. 

But with his resources, ex-husband Naoya’s always able to find you—and make your life hell. Any job you manage to get fires you only a few weeks later for reasons unknown—encouraged by a silent donation—and realtors will suddenly tell you that the apartment you’ve been interested in is off the market.

Ex-husband Naoya, who comes to collect you from the woman’s shelter you’ve taken refuge at, fed-up and beyond ready to put an end to whatever it is you think you’re up to.

“I don’t have any more time for this nonsense of yours,” he says— patronizing tone making him look ugly and nothing like the great man he thinks he is. “You’re out of money, and you’re out of places to run. Come with me now, and I will still allow you a gracious return.” 

Ex-husband Naoya, who really must be the most entitled man in the world.

“Make me waste any more time, and I’ll—”

“Fuck your gracious return,” you cut him off, continuing with a sneer, “Only way I’m going anywhere with you is kicking and screaming. Now get the fuck out before I call security and have you arrested.”

Ex-husband Naoya, who looks at you as if you’ve gone mad, then proceeds to feel driven insane himself—laughing at your threat like it was all a really funny joke.

“I’ve been lenient enough with you, humoring this little rebellion of yours, allowing you to come home on your own,” he says, his voice whispy with breath, just shy of unhinged—then dead and cold come his next words, “But I see now… I’ve been too indulgent.” 

Ex-husband Naoya, who meant it when he said he was done playing games.

Ex-husband Naoya, who doesn’t have an issue with your kicking and screaming.

♡ NAOYA ZENIN masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[woso-dreamzzz]

Surgery: Christmas

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: Christmas with Cub

"We could get her another cat?"

"We're not getting her another cat!"

It's strangely difficult to find ideas for Christmas presents to give a little girl that's only obsessed with cats, the washing machine and baking.

Your mothers can't exactly buy you your own washing machine or an electric mixer or, god forbid, another massive cat for you to carry around and insist isn't fat, isn't a complete monster or isn't the absolutely worst enemy of your mothers.

One of those worst enemies, your incredibly fat tabby Garfield, sits on the kitchen counter attempting to bat open a box of cereal to feed his never ending hunger.

Mapi and Ingrid ignore him, knowing that sooner or later this burst of energy will leave and he will amble off to a sunspot so he can nap away the rest of the day.

"Mami!" A call comes from your bedroom. "I'm stuck again!"

Mapi scrubs a hand over her face. "Just a minute, cub! I'm coming!" She turns back to Ingrid. "Definitely a no to the cat?"

Ingrid sighs. "No more cats."

"Just trying to make it easier on us!"

"Go and help our kid put on her t-shirt. I've got this."

But Ingrid very much doesn't have this. It shouldn't be this difficult to find a Christmas present for you but you're such a content kid. You've already got toys and the tv and the washing machine and the cats.

There's not really much else you want or need.

You're no help either, of course, because when Ingrid asks, you just reply with a simple:

"Er...I can get more time in yours and Mami's bed?"

So, it was very clear that you didn't quite know what you wanted for Christmas either apart from, clearly, curling up in Mapi and Ingrid's bed with them and probably kicking Mapi in her sleep.

Ingrid spends weeks stewing over what she and Mapi could get you. They'd gotten you a few throw away things like a new yellow digger after your last one fall off the balcony and smashed into the pavement below and a cute little necklace that doubled as identification with things like your name and had Mapi and Ingrid's numbers on them in case you ever went missing in a crowded area.

In the end, it's Frido that comes to her and Mapi's rescue, throwing out an idea at random during lunch when Aitana takes you up to the buffet to find some chicken.

It's a throwaway comment but with Mapi and Ingrid struggling to work out what else they could get you, they cling to it like a lifeline. They're fairly easy presents to source, something that Ingrid is glad for because she's cutting it abnormally close to Christmas day to get everything sorted.

"Mami..."

There's a crackle on the monitor that has Mapi stirring awake.

"Maaaami."

Mapi counts to ten in her mind before rolling out of bed, kissing a still sleeping Ingrid on the cheek and making her way out to your room.

"Merry Christmas, cub," She says as she pushes open your bedroom door," I see you've got company."

All of the cats seem to have migrated to your bed overnight.

Garfield, as usual, is laying on his back after (presumably) being used as a stuff animal for most of the night. Bagheera sits by your feet, grooming herself primly while the monstrous León-León stands nearby, tail flicking from side to side as he stares.

"We had Christmas cuddles," You say happily," And now we have the gingerbread?"

"We'll have to wait. Mama is still asleep."

"Why?"

"Huh? Why is Mama still asleep? She's tired."

"But why?"

"Because she was busy making sure everything was good for today."

"But why?"

Mapi scrubs a hand over her face. "You know what, let's go eat that gingerbread. Then we'll go and get your Mama."

You wiggle happily all the way to the kitchen, where Mapi lifts you up onto the counter so you can have a breakfast of the gingerbread you and Ingrid made last night and so Mapi can stop you from running into their room before Ingrid is awake enough to function.

The cats come running in as soon as they hear the rattling of their dishes - though Garfield kind of lumbers in, far behind León-León and Bagheera but still manages to steal most of the food.

Mapi does a pretty good job of stopping you going for the presents until Ingrid finally gets up, a nice warm mug of coffee waiting for her and an overly excited child trying to shove some gingerbread into her mouth.

"Tha-Thanks, Cub," Ingrid laughs as she pushes away one of your sticky little hands from where it's trying to shove biscuit into her mouth," But I'm fine with my coffee."

"It's good," You say through your own full mouth and Ingrid laughs.

"I know because it was made by us, with lots of love." Ingrid kisses the tip of your nose. "But really you should eat it all yourself."

"Really?"

"Really-really," Ingrid insists and you giggle, kicking your feet happily as you finally settle on her lap, sprinkling gingerbread crumbs everywhere as you move.

Garfield, as he always does whenever there's food to spare, comes ambling over to eat them all up.

Usually, Ingrid would scold him but Mapi's coming over with presents and she decides that even the cats can get away with things they usually wouldn't today.

"Are you ready for presents?" Ingrid asks, bouncing her knee so you burst into a round of giggles.

"Presents!"

Mapi and Ingrid exchange triumphant looks as you tear open your presents.

Your new ID necklace is placed snugly around your neck immediately, ready for in case you get lost during the walk your mothers have planned later that day.

You take great delight in placing your new yellow digger with all of your other construction toys in the corner of the room next to your little wooden set of tools.

"Mama! Mami! It's CAT!"

It's truly a surprise how many CAT themed things the club has managed to make in such a short amount of time. It's even more surprising just how much stuff they can buy for so cheap a price with their team member discounts.

But, perhaps the most surprising of all is how much the club was willing to just straight up give to them in return for just a few pictures of you with CAT the mascot.

It's not shocking to the staff and fans alike who the biggest CAT fan is and, while you do regularly appear on Mapi and Ingrid's Instagrams, it's a rarer feat to see you featured on the team's.

But, with just three pictures of you with CAT and a very cute video of you nearly taking the mascot of their feet in an attempt to hug them, Mapi and Ingrid received a bundle of CAT merch in return.

"It is CAT," Mapi laughs," It's a t-shirt with CAT on it!"

"And a keyring! And a new mug!" Ingrid continues as you rip open your presents, getting more and more excited the more CAT things you see.

"CAT's my second best friend," You tell Mapi and Ingrid earnestly in the next hour as you all take a nice walk together through the park.

"Oh, yeah?" Mapi says," And who's your best friend?"

"You and Mama," You reply.

"Oh, cub," Ingrid coos," That's so swe-"

"And Bagheera and Garfield and León-León."

Mapi laughs. "There it is."

[worldsover]

Detonation Mechanism ft. Isa

20k words

It's cute, fluffy, love-at-first-sight romance with Isa, but it turns out the kitten is naughtier than she appears.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

She'll be just like the last one. And the one before that. The one before that. The pattern, you've done everything in your power to break it and have yet to do so successfully. You'd rather not meet her at all if it's going to be that way, but the pressure from your mutual friends to get together for a blind date is akin to trying to turn around a tank with grocery bags in hand. You don't know if it's the same for Isa, but she didn't exactly put up a fight to meet, either, and that worries you a little bit. All you knew about Isa was a list of allergies so extensive that it resembled a complex food import document. You were always complaining about eating out at the same five places, so you were at least looking forward to eating at the trendy vegan restaurant she suggested.

Waiting amidst the bustling pedestrian plaza nearby, you double-check for the time and address on your phone and scan the area again. In truth, you want to get this over with. The air is thick with noise—the roar of traffic, people chatting, a street busker playing her guitar under the shade of an awning across from where you wait. The sun glares down mercilessly and your eyes water without warning, the summer heat already leaving you parched. It feels as though the world itself doesn’t want you to find love.

A notification on your screen.

> "you here already?"

> "Yep!"

> "i'm by the sculpture! of the guy! you'll know it's me!"

You do. Or, you hope. Hope that Isa is the red-haired woman waving wildly and looking around.

As you wave back with more restraint, you smile, because how else can you respond to the warmth of the sun—oh, how quickly you change your tune. You smile because that's how you combat freezing up at her prettiness. On first impression, Isa is already the most stunning person you've ever seen. Her eyes become half-moons when she smiles brightly, and you happily melt under her gaze. But then, there are those jeans holding in her thighs, her tight shirt not holding back her smooth midriff. All in all, very cute. You liken her expressions to that of a feisty cat. You haven't stopped smiling; how can you?

The world wants you to find love.

You can't believe it when she hugs you like she's known you for years. Her perfume wafts into your nose, and she smells sweet, too sweet, like you'd probably go into anaphylactic shock if you kissed her—who's the allergic one now?

"Hi!" Isa gives you one last squeeze before releasing you. "Nice to meet you."

You sputter—great start. "Wow, hi. Nice to meet you too."

"I'm Isa." Her grin is like a curly bracket as she looks up at you, not even close to your height. Her lips are pouty, red like her hair, and it doesn't help that she's looking at you as though you were already boyfriend material. "It's a nickname."

You have to hold back from telling her that she's the cutest thing you've ever seen in your life. "Isa," you repeat, almost stupidly, but then get over yourself. "It suits you."

"Yeah? Thank you." Her eyes turn into half-moons again when she smiles and nods, looking as though she'll purr any second now.

"Hold on, let me guess. You look like a… Sumin."

She laughs out loud. "Oh my god."

You gasp. "Did I get it?"

"No, no, that's one of my best friend's names."

"Damn. I thought I figured you out."

"Nope. I'm Lee Chaeyoung. Nice to meet you." She offers her hand.

You shake it and tell her your name in turn. "So, ready to eat?"

Her smile widens. She takes your bicep in hand, again her innate familiarity surprising you. "This way," she says, squeezing your arm.

"I know, I know," you say.

"I'm glad you agreed to come here. I've only been once, but I love this place."

You're inclined to like the place as well—the atmosphere is bright and vibrant, and the energy is positive like everyone's in their element. The restaurant has large windows with shutters drawn up to let in a lot of sunlight and natural airflow. A large indoor tree sits by a seating area next to the windows, providing a nice feeling of nature indoors. The tables and chairs are all a light-colored wood that matches the decor. You'd never walk into this place by accident—this is clearly a hipster vegan joint meant for millennials who think they can live forever if they just eat the right plants—but with Isa by your side, you don't care.

You care. You haven't felt nerves like these for ages. You're blaming your stuttering on how difficult the menu is to read, but if you're being honest, her beauty is throwing you for a loop. You're afraid you'll misspeak or do something weird like accidentally spill some soup on her, or try to kiss her before you learn her name properly, or any number of other things that can go wrong on a first date.

Isa orders for the both of you as if she knows the menu inside and out (you have no reason to suspect she doesn't), and as soon as she starts talking, you hang onto every word. She sounds passionate about this place, which is so cute of her, so of course, you agree with what she chooses.

The dish that appears in front of you, ratatouille and spaghetti, comes as a surprise because you were more focused on Isa than paying attention to what you ordered. You're embarrassed. If you had one great property about you, it would be your ability to snall talk and bullshit; instead, you're all avoidant eyes and quiet eating. You don't want to reveal too much about yourself, how humdrum your work is, or how many hours you spend on YouTube or reading manga every day. But Isa, she's a force of nature that can't be held back by any of your defenses, and you can't remain so closed off for too long, what with her relentless teasing and prodding at all the right times. She has you smiling in minutes.

A woman of many passions, she talks at length about decorating her house, finding new artists to listen to, and recording vlogs for all the countries she's visited. You're on the topic of travel.  "No, I'm serious, there are some nice parks in Canada," you say.

"I could see that. I'm imagining somewhere remote, where the stars are visible and you can stand on top of a hill and breathe in the fresh, cool air." Isa takes in a deep breath as though to demonstrate. "Ooh, have you ever seen the aurora borealis? So pretty."

"Yeah," you say as you keep your eyes on her.

"Wait, you've been?" She's bouncing in her seat now.

You chuckle. "I did, once."

"I'm so jealous."

"It's a long drive, getting far enough from the city lights. Plus, you have to be lucky with the timing. But it's worth it."

"Can we go?" she asks, all sincere.

"Together? To Canada?" you ask.

Isa ducks her head. "Sorry, that's presumptuous, right?"

You pat her forearm. "No, it's okay. I didn't mean to make fun, that would be incredible to do. You really wanna go?"

"Eventually. If the stars align." Isa makes a dramatic face, as if winking but unable to get her other eye to cooperate and stay open.

You burst out laughing, attracting stares.

"What? What?" she asks.

But you keep laughing, and she can't help but join in. In that moment, there's something true and incomparable and fantastical about Isa, and whatever connection the two of you have. Her foot touches yours and neither of you move away. She meets your eyes, drawing you in closer. Every laugh. Every smile. Every quirk of her brow. Her beauty ensnares your attention like a well-laid trap. Beckons you to steal glances, toward her plump lips, her clear skin, the outline of her neck as she drinks from her glass, the graceful slope of her nose, the red hair that frames her face. Her legs, encased in tight denim that stretches beyond infinity, make you linger longer.

"I don't bite," she purrs, leans forward, offers a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage. "Unless you want me to."

Your stomach drops. Whatever picture you had of Isa as a wholesome, innocent girl crumbles to pieces, in a good, groin-stirring, mouth-shutting way.

"Hey." Her hand touches your forearm. "I'm sorry if I'm coming on too strong. I'm having too much fun."

You clear your throat. "No, you're fine. More than fine." You squeeze her hand, admiring her delicate fingers and white-manicured nails. "I'm having fun with you too."

"Good! I guess we should, like, actually get to know each other though."

"Yeah," you reply, chuckling nervously. You first share the more basic biographical information: you're a few years older than her, but you agree to drop the formalities as though you were close friends already.

"Oh, by the way," you say, "I'm sorry."

She freezes up. "Sorry for what?"

"About all your allergies, I mean, chicken? Come on. I didn't even know that was a thing."

Isa laughs, and the more you hear her laugh, the more you want to tell jokes over and over just to hear it again. "Well, it's okay. I can just eat everything else. Like this ratatouille. It's really good."

You laugh with her. "Yeah, it is."

From there, it's easy to open up, talk more about yourself when she asks questions, to engage in small talk you wouldn't normally bother with. Just as with her hobbies, she wears many hats in her job, always busy doing something whether it's brand deals or graphic design or one of her million side projects. Somehow, she manages to make your life sound interesting with her unabashed sincerity. The more you ask about her interests, the more your own apathy toward dating seems silly and unfounded, a self-defeating cycle you've made worse by following it.

You're halfway through your meals when suddenly, Isa breaks the rhythm of the conversation with the question: "Why are you single?"

"What?" You snort. "Where did that come from?"

"Well," she begins, setting down her fork, "you're handsome, for one."

You hold back a gasp, not wanting to seem overly affected. "Thank you," you say in earnest, smiling bashfully.

"You're funny, and you're really good at making me feel comfortable with you." Once again, she squeezes your bicep, and more quietly, like admitting a secret, she adds, "And your body is nice. Any girl would be lucky to have you."

You're blushing, if not for her compliments, then for how adorable she looks being so transparent about how she feels. You decide to return the favor. "You're cute. Very cute. And I love your sense of style, especially the red hair, and how much fun we're having talking."

"Really?" Her eyes light up as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah," you say quietly. "I've never met anyone quite like you before."

"And I want to know more about you," she whispers. Isa leans forward and rests her elbows on the table, fingers laced together. "So, explain yourself, why you're single."

"Geez," you say, putting your hands up in defense, laughing again. "Okay, okay. Where to begin? I guess I haven't exactly had the best luck with dating."

She frowns. "Aww, I'm sorry. That's no good."

"I mean, it's tough, right? You have to meet new people and try to get to know them and they might turn out to be terrible dates who dump you in public or ghost you." You laugh, but it's mostly forced. "Or even worse, there are the friends that you dated and then had to stop being friends with because the relationship just didn't work out, and you have no one to hang out with on weekends. And now I sound like a loser."

"Hey, it's not like that." She squeezes your arm. "So you don't bother with dating as much, right? Well, that's understandable, especially after those bad experiences."

You appreciate her empathy; it helps to put your worries into words that feel more grounded, as though your concerns were normal rather than yours alone. "Right, but it doesn't help when people ask why I don't have a girlfriend, as if having a significant other is the only important relationship in your life. As though that's all that matters." You realize you're ranting too much and try to rein yourself in. "Sorry, I didn't mean to lay it on you so thick."

But Isa is already leaning into your arm. "Don't be sorry. It makes me feel better about myself to hear that other people have their own problems they have to deal with." She pauses. "If you're comfortable sharing, what happened before this?"

You straighten up. "Are you sure?"

"Of course."

So you do. Tell her about the failures, the heartbreak, how your ex was still in your friend group after the breakup. You shouldn't. This is the exact sort of first-date taboo that should be avoided at all costs. But she listens. She truly listens, and she understands. It feels good, to be heard by someone so receptive. There's a relief in getting it all off your chest, an intimacy in sharing secrets—and it helps that she's more attractive than any other woman you've met.

You've never taken so long eating such a simple dish.

After finishing up your meal, the mood to something light-hearted, and Isa asks if you want some… She's leaning forward, once more showing off her breasts in her crop top, and you stare in awe. She watches you take in every detail, and slowly, seductively, slightly, parts her mouth open. You blink rapidly and force yourself to meet her gaze.

"I said, you want some vegan ice cream?"

"Sure. We can, um, split it." You swallow.

Like nothing happened, she orders the creamy delight and as you tuck into the shared bowl, she savors each spoonful with slow, tantalizing movements of her tongue. Desire surges in your lower regions, and you attempt to adjust yourself subtly.

Isa flashes a provocative smile. "It's okay to look, you know?"

That ice cream must taste really good for her, how deliciously she's sucking on it. Your mind wanders. How might her lips taste, feel, upon yours, upon your neck, upon your chest, down? Shuddering at the thought, you clumsily shove a large scoop of the frozen treat into your mouth, only to regret it as your brain tries to make sense of the contrasting temperature.

When your face contorts from the chill, Isa laughs, and then she seems to catch herself; her eyes go wide. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I swear, I don't act this way with people I just met. But, it, you know, feels natural with you for some reason. Maybe you bring out the animal in me. Or, err…"

You clear your throat. "No, it's okay. It's hot. Actually, no, it's not okay, don't bring animals into this restaurant."

Isa laughs—another success, another tug at your heart. Her legs graze yours under the table until every nerve ending is on fire; you and Isa end up having a side competition under the table, both of you taking turns touching the other, to see who can make the other react first.

Isa wins.

Her cheeks flush red and you can't stop glancing at her parted lips.

Music. You were talking about… "You said you like R&B, right?" you ask. "You have a really nice voice for it. Ever consider singing?"

"Actually, I've thought about it," she says, straightening up in her chair. "I even took some lessons in high school. They said I could've been big, you know?"

Picturing Isa on stage is easy; she'd have a million followers. "That's really cool," you say. "Maybe you could sing me a song sometime."

"Maybe. But I might need to be in a more comfortable setting. Like, maybe my home or yours." She winks and your stomach drops again. She is toying with you and it's working, maybe too well. The anticipation of her flirty touches has you wanting more and more, the sexual tension building each time her foot or her hand brushes against yours. It feels like she's already undressing you with her eyes.

"That sounds good," you say.

"Yeah," Isa says, "we could do karaoke, drink a bit if you're down for that."

"You have any more talents or is a million hobbies not enough for you?"

"I also learned dance too. I still do that actually, I'm in a club."

You scoff. "Seriously, what are you doing here instead of performing? You could literally be the top idol, right now."

Isa shrugs. "That's just life. Sometimes, we don't get what we want. But then better things come along. And you get to eat ice cream with them." She laughs again, so carefree and happy—and so sexy that it's hard not to feel confident around her. "You're a pretty good thing, if I do say so myself."

You contemplate Isa's sudden musing. "I'd be your biggest fan, trust me."

"But, you know," Isa says, "I could teach you a thing or two about dancing too."

You imagine Isa dancing with you, her body pressing against yours. It's a delightful thought. Unfortunately: "I'm pretty much a fish out of water when it comes to anything involving coordination. Mmm, maybe one day. I can try and surprise you."

"It's okay. Everyone's gotta start somewhere. Or, you can watch me." Her lips curl up. "I like showing off sometimes." Eating her last bite of ice cream, a large dollop falls onto the bare skin between her neck and clavicle, its white and creamy and sticky nature reminding you of how it'd be to leave a warmer mark there. A streak of desire runs through your body, and you almost feel bad at the sudden urge to lick it off her skin. Instead, Isa whimpers at the cold sensation while her fingers scoop up the excess and pop into her mouth, sucking each digit clean.

"I see that," you reply, voice strained, and look away.

How Isa is able to move on from that so easily, you don't know. Your shirt feels too tight on your shoulders, and you shift in your seat to adjust your trousers.

You call the server over for the check—just in time to save you from your horniness—and Isa thanks you with a peck on your cheek that has you almost melting into her arms. The moment your card is swiped and the receipt signed, she takes your hand in hers as though she never wants to let go.

There's a crowd of people outside, bunches of people coming in and out of restaurants and stores, a group of college students dancing to some choreography, but you feel like you and Isa are in your own bubble.

"Thank you for tonight," she whispers in your ear, as the streets are getting loud with all the people. She's warm, and her breath is warm, and her smile is warm, and every moment makes you feel warm. Isa looks at you like she's feeling the same way, clinging to your arm and to your every word and to the promises of more dates.

You continue to sneak glances, ensure you're not dreaming. The setting sun peeks out behind the skyscrapers, shining light onto her bright skin—she may be an angel in her radiance; you’ve never told anyone that on the first date because a pickup line like that would be too cheesy, but you have to tell her anyway. (“Seriously? Fell from what? Ugh!” She rolls her eyes but with a huge smile on her face. Nothing could be more precious.) You didn't realize otherworldly beauty even existed outside of the internet or the cinema, but somehow, it just ended up on your lap for the price of a vegan entrée and some wine.

As you walk through a nearby urban park, Isa squeezes your hand. "I'm kinda surprised."

"About?" You tilt your head.

"How well this is going. I didn't think blind dates were supposed to go this well."

"So this is your first one?" You nudge her with a playful shoulder. "Lucky. So, you wanna do anything else?"

"Do you?"

You scan the shops, assessing your options. There's a stationery store, a convenience mart, and a plethora of designer boutiques far exceeding your pay grade. "Whatever you feel like." Well, hopefully not the latter.

"Let's go there." Isa points to the stationary shop and drags you there.

You browse the aisles, letting go of her hand to flip through the pages of a journal. Isa decides to get herself some notebooks—one covered in red roses and a kitten in shades of pink. You scan the shelves and notice a book on calligraphy and pull it out. After shuffling some items around, you find some pencil grips and grab them for yourself, then find Isa in the pen and pencils section.

"Cute." Though looking at the things she's holding, you're not talking about them.

"Oh, thanks." She shifts the books in her arms and pokes you on the side. "There are some markers and pencils with kittens on them, maybe you can give it as a gift to a friend."

"You can just say you want them. It seems you've got a whole theme going on there. You don't even have a cat," you tease.

She sighs loudly. "No, don't remind me. I wish I could have one so bad."

"I'm more of a dog person," you say, "but kittens aren't half bad."

"Hmph. Kittens are so cute though." Her pout is even more adorable. "Kittens are small, furry, warm."

"And lazy. Mean. Cranky," you counter.

Isa swats your arm. "Noo, they aren't."

With the kitten pencils and markers now secured in your shopping bag, you exit the stationary store and head to the convenience store nearby. After a few minutes of browsing and chatting, you leave with two bags of snacks and drinks. You offer to help carry her bags home, and the two of you are on a bus.

Isa leans her head on your shoulder as she places a hand on your thigh. "Thanks again for tonight."

"Any time," you say, grabbing her hand. "So, uh, are you free next week?"

She shakes her head, looking apologetic. "No, I'm leaving on a camping trip with some friends."

"Ah, that sounds like fun." Your heart sinks. "Well, how about when you get back?"

"Of course! I'll text you as soon as I'm home."

"Okay, great." You don't know what else to say because all you're thinking about is how much you'll miss her. And the ride seems too short for your liking. The two of you are still holding hands, and it feels as if your hands are made for each other: her fingers are warm and delicate as they intertwine with yours, her touch gentle and tender, and everything you never knew you wanted.

"My stop's coming up," Isa says reluctantly.

"I'll walk you home." You pat the bags in your other hand. "These snacks will be useful later."

"Yeah? Okay."

Isa leads the way to her apartment. Her neighborhood is cozy; the streets are lined with small houses, bakeries and cafes, and a playground.

When you reach the entrance of the building, you hand Isa her bags of stuff, not wanting to let go of her hand.

"Thanks for going out with me today," you say. "I hope we can do this again soon."

Isa doesn't let go of your hand either. "I hope so too."

The moment stretches on, neither of you wanting to be the first to leave, but your heart won't stop beating out of your chest. You finally let go of her hand to place them in your pockets, looking elsewhere, anywhere but her eyes. Her red lips call to you.

Isa looks around—there's no one outside at this hour, the sky darkening and stars beginning to dot the sky. She bites her lip—god, how you'd love to bite down on her plump lips, kiss those curves on her face and body until she was left squirming and moaning on her bed. She takes your face in her hands, stands on tiptoes, leans in close to you, and kisses your cheek. Your heart stops. You turn to look at her, stunned by how forward she was, by how good that felt, and oh—now, her lips are on yours. Your head is spinning: her mouth tastes like honey and mint and every flower in the world; she's pulling you down and closer to her while her other hand wraps around your waist; she's whimpering as you pull her body flush against yours by her hip and ass, kissing her back fiercely, deeper and deeper—

You're left wanting more as she pulls away, swaying from side to side. Her hand reaches to stroke your face. You're dazed and speechless.

Isa giggles. "We should do this again. I really enjoyed myself. I hope you did too."

"Yeah," you say, your voice cracking slightly. "I definitely did."

"Okay. Bye bye!" She waves with a warm smile and then runs into the building before you can say anything else.

You've only just met her, but somehow the world is darker again, like you're reminded that it's nighttime.

A text.

> "you could've kissed me sooner :p"

✦✧✦✧✦✧

The weekend zooms by, and the week lurches forward like a train coming out of the station, slow and dragging until it gradually builds up momentum as the minutes fly by. You wonder where Isa is right now as you sit at your desk at work. You wonder if she's thinking about you the way you're thinking about her. Your coworkers pry about what's making you smile, and you can only be honest—that there's a woman who's made you feel alive for the first time in a long time. Meanwhile, you're forced to endure smug, self-congratulatory remarks from Sullyoon about getting you and Isa together. But you don't mind the jests and good-natured ribbing if it means you get to daydream about Isa for hours on end.

Only when you get home after a long day of work that you realize how far along she's gotten under your skin because you haven't been this distracted in years. She's a very well-formed fantasy: you picture making dinner for her, so you're learning vegan recipes, and cutting out everything from soy to eggs—it's no sacrifice when it's all for her. But your imagination ends up taking other shapes too, her sex appeal oozing out of every pore and action between the cuteness. You'd take her apart with your tongue—and fingers, too—before putting her back together again with your dick. When it feels as though you've lost your focus forever, your mind has never been clearer. Every night, you're thinking of Isa before you fall asleep, dreaming of her in bed with you—holding her tight until the sun peeks through the curtains—

> "hi, hi, i'm back. you free right now?"

You answer the text immediately, despite it coming after midnight.

> "heyy, i'm free"

> "cool! i'm at home right now, wanna come over?"

> "sure, omw"

> "great! see you soon!"

Riding the subway, the hum of electricity and chatter fills your ears, and you wish this were a bullet train instead. When you knock, your hands are clammy and your stomach is twisting itself into knots.

The door swings open. There she is. Your eyes drink her in, radiant Isa clad in snug black yoga pants and a loose tank top, crimson hair falling down her shoulders like lava from a volcano. There's your fantasy, your plaguing distraction, your obsession. Whatever you were feeling hasn't gone anyway: everything that was there was real, made more concrete at the sight of her.

You don't really know her, but it feels as though you've missed her so much already.

Isa doesn't say anything. Simply steps closer, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes full of want, and wraps her arms around your shoulders. Your hands roam over her ass and cup it gently while her mouth presses into you. You both sigh into the kiss, and she tugs on your lower lip, sucking and nipping on it. The door clicks shut behind you.

"Hey," you breathe out after finally breaking the kiss. "That was—"

Isa's tongue flicks your lips. "Is it okay if we keep doing that?" Her voice is like silk on your ears. "Please?"

Because the silk forms a web made to ensnare you, you oblige, pulling her close again to recapture her mouth. She's intoxicating, her taste—like strawberries dipped in dark chocolate—her body—soft skin and sweet perfume—and most of all, her sighs—the cutest little creature in need as your tongues glide over each other. Then you move down to give her neck a peck, and she arches up against you.

"I missed you," Isa sighs out.

You groan softly at that. You're in her home, cozy, warm, and familiar, with the soft light of a candle casting gentle shadows on the walls and scenting the air with a floral aroma.

"I literally texted you the moment I got home," she adds. "Sorry if I had to make you rush here."

"Don't worry about it," you reply, placing a kiss on her collarbone. "I couldn't wait to see you."

"Really?" She beams.

"Of course."

She lets go of your shoulders and leads you to the couch. "I'm sure you wanted to plan a real date, and I want that too, but... I really wanted to kiss you again."

"Well, I can't say no to that," you say.

"We'll have plenty of time for dates later. Let's just watch something on TV," she says, eyes crinkled, and you decide that you are honestly fine with whatever Isa wants.

The two of you curl up on one side of the couch, your arm wrapped around her shoulders and hers around your waist, and she turns on some show about a guy who owns a farm or something. Naturally, your distraction returns, made tangible and real as she sits by your side. You can't stop thinking about what's underneath her clothes, what she'll look like after you make her come over and over again.

Isa glances at you, then back at the TV, then back to you. "What?" she asks.

"Just looking at you," you confess as you cup her cheek. "You're so beautiful that I can’t stop."

"You, you're so, ugh, I can't..."

"But I mean it, sincerely." You point at the cat notebook on the table. "You're like that cute kitten, curled up in me."

She scoffs, pushing the notebook aside and swatting your shoulder. "Yah, you're so cheesy." But there's still a smile on her face, so you'll take that as a victory.

As the two of you watch the show, or at least attempt to, neither of you is truly there in spirit. Isa is playing with your fingers, eyeing you like she wants to devour you; your hands stroke her shoulder as if to silently communicate your desire for something more than talking or watching TV; your faces are angled toward each other rather than the television. Your touch ventures lower, toward her sides, then her thighs, and you massage them through the fabric of her pants.

"Your hands. So warm," she says as she takes one of your hands into her own and kisses the center of your palm. "So firm, and strong. It's nice." 

There are photos on the walls of Isa with whom you assume are family and friends, as well as some art from artists you don't recognize. As you suspected, there are plenty of cat-related objects scattered about, an entire corner of the bookshelf filled with picture books, figurines of cats and dogs and other cute animals on every shelf. In addition to that notebook you bought her, you also spot the pencils on a table next to her laptop. There's a mug next to that one, with a cat printed on its side.

Isa nuzzles into your neck, staring at you. There's something about her demeanor that makes her seem more shy and unsure of herself than before. Her fingers play with the hem of your shirt, trying to sneak their way underneath while she strokes your cheek with the other hand.

It's not just her home. She is a cat.

Isa is a cat in how she purrs when you scratch behind her ears just right. In how she arches against your body with every brush of your fingertips against her neck. In how she paws at your shoulders, begging for more and more attention, leaning in for gentle, affectionate kisses to her nose. In how she rubs herself against you like she knows what it does to you. In how she mewls when your palms come down to caress her lower back, then squeezes her ass. Isa, in your arms, is the sort of pet that makes you want to spoil her all the time. You're not sure what you did in a past life to deserve a creature so magnificent and adorable and sexy and sweet and lovable.

You call her as she is. "Kitten." It comes out your mouth like a reflex, like a message to yourself more than anything.

A small gasp escapes her lips, and she looks up at you with wide eyes.

Your thumb brushes along her jawline. "It really suits you."

"Again," she pleads.

You whisper "Kitten" again, this time deeper.

Isa shivers and exhales weakly, her hand reaching for yours in a desperate grip. "One more."

"Kitten." You chuckle to yourself, in disbelief, in awe; how could a woman be… "So cute. Kitten. Kitten." Your lips follow your thumb on her jaw. "You like when I say that?"

"Oh, oh, fuck. Yeah. How... how do you know just what to say to me? How to touch me? No one's ever treated me like this before. I've been thinking about you. Especially when I was out in the woods. I was with my friends and it was fun, but..." She pauses, trying to find the right words.

You squeeze her waist. "It's okay, I'm listening."

Isa nods, biting her lip. "I just felt like I needed to see you again. Like something was missing. And when I got home, I just wanted to meet you again. I know it sounds stupid, we just met."

"No, it's not stupid," you say. "I feel the same way. I swear. More, to be honest."

"Okay, good—hngh." Isa gasps as your lips find their way to her neck, and the taste of her soft skin leaves you hungry for more. "Oh, fuh... you see? You make me feel so, so good, oh my god. I wasn't sure if it was just the mood of that date, but no, it's you, it's definitely you."

Her hand sneaks back under your shirt and caresses your bare torso. But then she stops herself, pushing you back.

"You okay?" you ask and then wait patiently for her to calm down.

"This isn't like me," she says. "Or at least, it hasn't been in a long time, or maybe ever. I don't know why I'm acting like this with you, someone I just met."

As she moves her hands restlessly, you reach for them and hold them tightly in yours. "I understand. And I don't mind at all," you say.

Isa looks down at her lap. "It's just… I feel like I can trust you completely. Even though we just met, it feels like we've known each other forever."

"I'll admit, I'm also a little confused," you confess.

"Yeah," she whispers.

"But… I'm all in. I don't care."

A silent peace of acceptance falls between the two of you.

Isa breaks the silence with a shattering statement even if so quiet as to let the world's hum speak over her. "This, this is going to lead to us having sex, right?" Quieter: "I want this. Do you?"

You do. You want it. You want it more than you want any other woman in this city, hell, maybe in the world. You want to know what it feels like to hold Isa tight while you slide into her, what her cries sound like when you fill her, what it would be like to hold her in your arms after fucking her. You want this gorgeous face right next to yours, her hair tickling your face while you're trying to sleep, waking up to a sweet smile. morning kisses. You want her on top of you, taking your cock, her perfect breasts bouncing as she rides you; to be under her with your mouth between her thighs. You want her body against yours, for you to make her dinner, to go shopping with, to sleep next to on the sofa every night.

If there were one last thing you wanted in your life, then it's Isa. You can only nod, dumbfoundedly.

She smiles, then giggles, and you can't help but join in on her giddiness. "Good. Okay. Yeah. Obviously." Isa turns to look you in the eyes. "I've been doing some thinking. And, um, I want to do this, but, I have one rule."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"When you cum, I want you to cum inside me."

Your mouth falls open.

She stammers, her face turning an even deeper shade of crimson, "I'm on the pill, and I don't like condoms, and I just... I've always wanted to feel a guy cum inside of me. And you're so fucking hot and sexy, and I just want it so bad."

Your heart pounds faster and faster, the same way Isa speaks faster and faster.

"I want you to fuck me. Like an animal. And I want you to breed me. I want you to fill me up with your seed while you call me kitten and good girl and..." After she trails off, she buries her face in her hands. "I can't believe I just said all that."

Cup her cheek and stroke it with your thumb. "It's okay." You nod, and you nod harder as if your acceptance is growing immediately. "Yeah, I can do that for you. You've been thinking a lot about this, haven't you?"

"That's an understatement," she admits. "It's crazy. I shared a tent with three friends, and while they were sleeping, I was touching myself. Rubbing my thighs, my hand down my pants. Thinking about you. You're so... I don't know." She shakes her head, unable to find the words to capture the intensity. "And I've been just going crazy trying to figure out why."

"You figure it out?" she asks.

"Yeah, kinda," she says "I guess it's nothing so complicated, and it's nothing I haven't already said... it's how you look at me, how you talk to me like there's nothing else that matters, how you make me feel safe and wanted. And yeah, all that on top of you being really handsome too. It feels nice."

You choke back your response. It feels like you should have something more meaningful to say in response to all of this, but no matter how hard you try, only banalities come to mind.

"I probably need help or something—"

You put your fingers over her mouth. "Stop. Listen, please." You lift her chin to meet her gaze again. "I love how open you are about all this. I don't know if I could even be this honest with myself. Not without you."

Isa exhales in relief, while her body relaxes against yours. "Thank you. I was so worried you’d think I was a freak or something."

"No way. I think it's incredibly sexy." And now that you're talking honesty. "I think I get what happened. It happened to me too."

"What's that?"

"Love at first sight."

Isa blinks, then bursts into laughter and hits your shoulder. "You're such a dork!" She shakes her head but continues to laugh heartily, eyes crinkled and flashing beautifully.

"But doesn't that describe this?"

Isa smirks and leans her head on your shoulder. "Maybe." She pokes your chest with a finger. "Honestly? Yeah. It does. I felt that, too. God, it's so stupid, right?" She laughs again, this time pressing her face into your chest. "We're seriously screwed, huh?"

"Yeah," you say gently. "We are."

Isa grabs your shirt and tilts her head upwards so that she can look at you again. "Like, who even does this?"

She leans towards you, closes her eyes, and kisses you with a gentle passion and small noises.

You run a hand down her back as the other cradles the back of her head. She groans softly into your lips, then parts them with her tongue as she sits up straighter.

"You and me," you say. "This is the kind of shit that happens when you meet your soulmate."

Her eyes fly open, and you chuckle. "Shut up! Stop!"

"If we're gonna be screwed, let's be screwed together."

"What even are you saying right now? You're so... mmm!" Isa lets out a strangled cry as your lips travel downward, planting light kisses on her jawline, her neck, and the crease between her neck and shoulder, before clamping onto the sweet flesh of her shoulder and sucking.

"I'll take care of you, I promise." Your kisses pause a moment, which earns a whimper from Isa as you look up at her.

Once more the silence falls over the two of you like a thick veil. This moment feels like forever, but in the whole history of forever, it has only just begun, too fast for you to comprehend.

"Please tell me to stop, or slow down if you need to," you say. "Whenever you feel uncomfortable, or don't like something I do, just tell me, okay?"

Isa nods. "Of course. Just…"

You don't remember when the two of you started slouching on the couch, or when you put your hand down your pants, or when she started rubbing her palm over her crotch. Your cock has been stiff this whole time, or that a wet spot has formed on her yoga pants. Her juices stain the fabric enough that you can see the outline of her pussy. You and Isa's hands move in unison, eye contact steadfast.

"So you like when I call you Kitten?" you ask.

She whines as she continues to rub her cunt. "Mhm!"

"I'll make sure to do it a lot. Call you good girl too."

"Ohmygod, fuck." Her other hand clutches her chest, pinching the nipple hardening through her tank top.

By now, you're so hard it's painful like it needs to escape or you'll die in the prison of your pants. "You're such a good girl. I love seeing you like this, kitten."

Her whimpers increase in pitch; the shape of her pussy is more pronounced; her pants are soaked to the touch. She's so wet you can smell it, the scent only furthering your lust. "I need it." Isa shuffles into your lap, ready to straddle and kiss you.

You pull back and grab her by the shoulders, turning her around to face the TV like you're a mere extension of the couch.

Isa whimpers. "What?"

Already, you find yourself slipping into your role, guided by your instincts. "You can be patient, can't you? You've been gone for a whole week. What's another ten minutes or however long is left in this show? Trust me."

"Fine." Isa pouts and crosses her arms and leans back against your chest. "I'll wait."

The two of you resume watching the show, and you have certainly missed what was going on because now they're in space or something. Isa wiggles her ass, and you squeeze her hips to still her movements. You're not sure who's being teased more here: your erection might break through your pants, and Isa seems to be on the brink of something with her sighs, with her thighs pressing together.

You whisper her new pet name Kitten in her ear; in response, she mouths out all sorts of names, Daddy, Sir, Owner, or Master. Each one sounds lovely falling off her tongue. With your chin on her shoulder, you intersperse lazy pecks on her cheek or neck.

As the current show about animal husbandry or astronomy or the world ending or whatever comes to a close, Isa leans back, and her earlobe grazes your lips. When you give a gentle nip, she sucks in her breath, and her hand goes to her mouth to contain a tiny yelp.

"Not too loud," you say, gentle but stern.

"Please, please"—her voice cracking—"I can't wait."

"You've done so well." You kiss her jaw. "What a good girl. What do you want?"

"I want to taste you. Please?"

"Yeah? Alright, you've been patient enough. You can have your treat, kitten."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." Isa clambers off your lap, and then kneels between your legs, grabs your waistband; your cock springs up in front of her face. Her eyes go wide enough that the whites of her eyes are visible around her irises, and her mouth hangs open. Her fingers curl around you. "You're bigger than I imagined."

You must have an insufferable smirk on your face because she's already frowning and playfully swatting you. But just as quickly, lust washes over her features, her eyes narrowing. Isa's gaze is rapt as she strokes you with a feather-light touch, exploring your length with her palms, savoring the skin stretched over hardened steel. "What did you imagine?" you ask.

"About how you'd feel in my hand, in my mouth... in my pussy." She strokes you slowly, almost like petting a small animal.

"Did you think about me filling you up when you were on your camping trip?" You caress her cheek with your hand and run your thumb along her plump lower lip. "Did you picture me breeding you while you rubbed your clit?"

"Yeah. And I imagined you'd be big too. But this..." Isa becomes motionless, and she doesn't break eye contact with your dick.

"Enjoying the view?"

She nods.

"Show me how much then."

Isa closes her eyes and rubs her cheek against your length. She licks your cockhead, swirls over the crown, and dips into the slit. A kiss at the base of your cock, then another halfway down, and another at the very tip, all in that order and the reverse order and every other possible combination—she plants them all in the span of a few dizzying moments. With half-closed eyes somehow still focused on the task at hand, Isa mouths in the general region of your cock without actually sucking it. Not enough. Nowhere close to where you need to be. Just like the first date, Isa is so deeply aware of the effect she has on you, and yet playing at oblivious innocence and naivety. She's a cat playing with its food, but that makes sense because she is a cat.

You take a fistful of her hair, tug firmly, and let out a soft growl.

With a dribble of spit and precum on her chin, her gaze turns up, eyes wide with wonder. "S-sorry. I wanted to kiss it because it's so pretty."

"And I thought I was being a tease. Come on." You grab her by the chin and press your thumb into her bottom lip. "I thought you wanted to taste me."

"Yeah! Of course, I do." Isa nods. She wipes her chin with her arm, and with your other hand, you point your cock at her face.

"Open wide."

Her tongue lolls out. "Aahhh."

Rub the head of your dick along her lips, and Isa captures it with her mouth to suck. She hums contentedly, slurps on the crown while stroking with her palm. She drags her pursed lips down your shaft like she's worshiping vegan ice cream on a spoon. Isa bobs back and forth, careful at first but quickly gaining momentum and depth. Never once does she break eye contact, so eager to please you, to do good for her new owner. She's the perfect kitten.

You pet your kitten. "That's a good girl."

Simple words, simple touches, but they make Isa whimper into your cock. Her fingers work frantically beneath her waistband while she services you. The sound of her pussy's wetness is almost as loud as the sloppy noises of her blowjob.

"Thih, cock, sgooh," she mumbles on your dick. She spits you out, a long string of saliva trailing from her tongue to your dick, and then she smiles up at you like the happy little cat she is. "So good. I shouldn't have waited this long. I wish I'd done this on our first date."

You groan. "You would've done that? On our first date?"

"Mhmm!" Her tongue pokes out between her lips. "You didn't notice me teasing you the whole time? I swear I was being really obvious. And I was so turned on because of you."

"Yeah? Well, you made me feel like I could barely breathe around you, I was so fucking hot for you." 

"I know it makes me a slut—"

"No, it doesn't. If it's because of me... you know... soulmates..."

"Yeah, I get what you mean. Even if you're being silly." She smirks. "You don't have a problem with a slutty kitten though, do you?"

"Of course not."

Isa lets out a satisfied sigh and begins pumping your cock again. "Good. Because I would've gone under the table and blown you then and there if you asked."

"You're wild."

"You make me wild," she counters. She plants kisses along your shaft as she fondles your balls, her other hand still busy in her pants. "Or even when we walked through that alleyway. Do you remember? You were following me to my apartment and I swear I could feel your eyes on my ass."

You chuckle. "You weren't wrong. It's such a nice ass."

"Thank you!" In between words, she licks your sack with broad tongue swathes. "But when we got to the alley, I wanted you to bend me over and fuck me from behind. Or push me against the wall and fuck me. Or just shove me to my knees and fuck my mouth until you filled my belly with cum."

You grab her hair again and pull her away. "Hah. It'll be my pleasure to keep you well fed. But, as hot as that sounds, I think we should save that for another day."

As much as you want to continue this conversation, and as much as you want to hear Isa tell you all of her filthy little fantasies while she strokes you and pleases you and praises you, there's something more that's been occupying your mind: the pussy that's been drenching her clothes and making her moan into your cock with every stroke of her fingers.

"You said you had a rule for me. What was it again?" you ask.

Isa takes her hand out of her pants, leaving behind a damp stain on her pants, and licks them clean, like cleaning a mess of vegan ice cream—the image stuck with you quite profoundly—two fingers in her mouth, in and out, in and out, over and over until she finally pulls them out with a wet pop. "Oh yeah, that. I was having such a good time I forgot. But I… I just need it inside me so bad. I've been craving it forever. I can't believe how horny I am."

"That's not all you said though. You wanted me to do something for you, right?"

"Yeah. Right. I want to..." She falters as if the words have become foreign to her at this moment. Isa opens her mouth, closes it, opens it again, and closes it again before finally spitting them out: "I want to feel you cum inside me."

"That's it." You grab her hand. "I'm not just going to cum inside you though. I'm going to breed you. I'm going to make sure your womb is nice and full of my cum. How does that sound?"

"Yeah." Isa nods, nods harder, and ramps up until you see her happier than she's ever been before; she practically melts into your arms as she gets up and plants a kiss on your lips. "Bedroom?"

"Bedroom."

It is much like you imagined: like the rest of her house, thoroughly decorated, a safe space with all sorts of cute trinkets and animal memorabilia, a plush rug on the floor, and a huge bed covered with a soft blanket, all in soft pastels. But a home is not a home without its pet: Isa lays down on her back and rubs her legs together, your dick still at attention for her.

You unbutton your shirt; she likewise divests herself of her clothing—her tank top rises to expose a bit of her flat stomach, she twists when taking off her bra, her breasts fall free, and she peels off her pants with such a slow deliberation that you can't tell if it's for show or if she's simply so aroused that it's painful to move. Her body is slim in the right places but with plenty to squeeze, her thighs and tits soft like marshmallows.

"Daddy," she purrs in response, patting the sheets.

"My turn to taste you."

You climb onto the bed and kneel between Isa's legs. You trace the contours of her thighs, loving how her nipples stiffen at your touch, how she squirms when your hands come too close to her dripping slit. Your fingers graze against the slick skin of her inner thigh, then brush lightly over her outer lips and clit and inner folds, then find their way back to your own lips, where you can't resist licking them clean, tasting your kitten—bitter yet sweet, salty yet fragrant—and Isa writhes in wanton display before you.

"Please. I want you inside me." Isa whines like a kitten in distress, and you plan on taking care of her distress now and always.

You lift her by the hips and shimmy under her body so that she straddles your face. "This first."

Once you steady Isa above you, your tongue flicks against the swollen bud of nerve endings; Isa cries out your name at the first touch. Then, you're licking away, lapping at her wetness that trickles down your throat. Her pussy lips are plump like the ones on her mouth; her clit is just as red as her lips as you pull the hood back with a finger and flick your tongue faster. Her body is still, frozen in rapture. Grab her ass. Push her closer. As you nuzzle into her folds, she leans forward, pressing her face to your hip, while hands grip your thighs and nails dig into your skin.

"Fuck! Daddy! So good," she squeals. "Ahh! Right there. Ohmygod, you're amazing at this. I can't even think... oh fuck!" Isa squeezes tighter around your head, which can't bother you one bit. You feel her warm and heavy weight on you, her body taut above you, and her breaths on your crotch are equally hot as the air around you. You can hear her muffled voice, though it's impossible to tell what she's saying from how much she's slurring her words and drooling onto your legs.

So you stop, wipe her juices from your face, and say, "What was that?"

"C-can I taste you too?" She looks back at you with wide, innocent eyes. "While you eat me out, can I suck your cock? Please? It looks so yummy."

"Hmm." You pretend to consider her offer for a moment and stroke the small of her back with your hands. "Well, since you asked so nicely."

Isa kisses your leg, lapping up the mess she made, before pecking her way toward your cock. Just when you take another lick, her lips wrap around your shaft.

"Fuck," you curse when Isa starts bobbing her head on your cock again. You push your middle finger into her entrance to feel her walls squeeze around it and then press your mouth against her clit with renewed vigor. You start to hear and feel the gags she's making as she chokes on your cock—you wonder how far she'll go if she can take it down her throat.

Nothing distracts you from your delicious treat—you run the flat of your tongue across Isa's outer folds before switching to short licks inside of her, all while savoring the juices that dribble down your face. Her pussy tastes wonderful, a musty sweetness that is as addictive as a drug and just as hard to ignore. The moans that rumble in her throat and echo around your shaft—she is everything. You want to eat Isa's pussy every day, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. (Does this count as vegan?) As your fingers work feverishly in tandem with your tongue, your hips thrust reflexively into her mouth. She pushes down as if she's trying to impale herself on your dick—until finally, finally, the tip hits the back of her throat. You've never been with a woman who took you so deep so quickly. Here she is managing it without an issue. She was made for this. Your kitten.

Isa pulls back and cries out: "Oh fuck, Daddy, please!" And it's not just that she's gasping for air because of your length: her body goes rigid while her legs squeeze you tight. With a shuddering cry, her juices gush out onto your face while you continue licking and drinking, all the way through the tail end of her climax.

When the trembling dies down, she collapses, body limp atop yours. While aftershocks rock her, two of your fingers slip into her entrance to tease out every bit of her pleasure, curling to find and push that spot deep inside. A third finger eases in, her pussy tender and pliable with arousal, and you can tell that Isa can barely move from how overstimulated she is; yet, when you pull your digits out, Isa whimpers at the emptiness. She nuzzles against your hip, eyes shut tight, and a grin like she's in a dream.

"That's it, kitten," you say. "That's what you deserve."

Isa lets out a cute, pleased noise. "I've never... not like that... I've never felt like that before." Biting her lip, she gazes at your still-erect member, close enough for her warm breath to tickle it. "D-Did you cum? I didn't feel you in my mouth."

"Not yet, kitten. Don't worry." You pat your cockhead against her cheek and nose. "You did such a good job. But I still want to fill you up like I promised."

"Good." She rolls off of you, then curls up on her side and bats her lashes at you. "I'm, um, I'm really, really sensitive now... But, also, I also need your dick inside me. Please."

"Okay, kitten." You sit up on the bed and whisper in her ear, "But only because you said please so nicely."

Isa's legs wrap around you like she's done this a hundred times before. Her eyes are so tender and sweet; it's almost enough to make you want to give up and hold her to your chest forever and forget about sex and cuddles. Almost.

You lay her down in the middle of the bed, a princess, a beloved pet, an object of your desire and adoration. She spreads herself for you, displaying her raw pussy lips and erect clit—she must be desperate for your cock to still be this swollen and needy after such a thorough orgasm. Like a test, you slap your shaft against Isa's pussy, earning a gasp as her body jerks upward in response. "I'm going to breed you, just like you asked."

"Yes," she says, with the widest, most joyful smile on her face while crossing her heels behind your back. "Fill me up with your cock, Daddy. I'm waiting."

"It'll hurt a little though." You thrust slowly along her cunt—her wetness coats the head of your cock as it pushes inside the tiny gap between her clit and the rest of her pussy—snug, snug, too snug for entry without some force.

"I don't care—ah!" She winces when you pull back and rub circles with the tip of your cock. "I've waited so long. And I know I'm safe with you."

You test the waters, dipping your cockhead once again, then a few dozen more times. Despite her discomfort, or because of it, she's trying to push back against you with every movement. She's so sensitive it looks painful—you're barely touching her with your cock and already she's squirming and whimpering.

"Give. Give it. Give it to me," she pleads.

One deep breath, two deep breaths, and then you capitulate, push inside—the hardest thing in the world meets and splits open the easiest/softest. A perfect match. The walls of her cunt stretch around your thickness, clinging on like they're never going to let go. Though you sink deeper and deeper with ease, the friction makes her squeal. Her back arches off the bed, she claws at the sheets, and her mouth falls open with a gasp that becomes a mewl that becomes a squeal that becomes a litany of garbled noises. It's a slow process, taking your time to ensure she can feel every vein, every contour of your cock. When your length carves out space in her pussy and hits that sweet spot inside her, she lets out a sigh and a whimper—she feels fuller than she has in her entire life.

"You good?" you ask.

She nods rapidly and flaps her arms at you; when you're within reach, she yanks you down for a sloppy kiss that mostly consists of sucking on your bottom lip while her tongue explores.

"You're such a good kitten," you whisper between kisses. "So good at taking my cock."

She mewls into your mouth and bucks her hips upwards. "But it's not enough. Need more."

You give a few shallow thrusts of your dick, your forehead against hers as you examine her reaction. "More? Is this better?"

"More." Whatever discomfort or pain is left on Isa's face melts away. She grinds as though to get closer, though she already has your whole length inside her. "Please."

You slam the length of your cock into Isa with a grunt—whatever thoughts are left in Isa's brain evaporate. Your pace is slow and deliberate, so she tries to fuck herself on you faster than you're fucking her; whenever you pull out, her hips follow after you, like she can't stand for your cock to leave her empty for so long.

You give one of her breasts a firm squeeze while your thumb rubs over her firm nipple. With your free hand, you slip two fingers into Isa's mouth; she accepts them readily, her tongue swirling around your digits. She sucks on your fingers till they're dripping with her spit—your other hand alternates between both breasts now. They deserve all the attention they get, and then ten times over. Isa's breasts aren't the biggest, but they're the prettiest: perky with small pink nipples; they bounce enticingly with your movements. When you squeeze them, she starts grazing your back with her nails while her heels dig into you. Her walls spasm and clench around your girth—her orgasm is imminent.

"Daddy, please," she whines. "Need to cum!"

"Kitten, we just got started." You pull your cock out of her pussy and slide it between her labia, between the plushness of her folds. You lean down to plant soft pecks on her forehead, on her eyelids, and then down to her lips again as you continue to rut against her pussy. "Aren't you sensitive?"

Isa lets out the cutest growl and shakes her head. "N-noouh... It, it doesn't matter. You stretch me open so good."

You slide your hands under Isa's ass; she sits up, making it easier for you to carry her off the bed. With her ankles still hooked around each other like a seatbelt, you stand upright, bringing Isa up with you—she's light as a feather as buries her face in the crook of your neck. Even as you take a step back, away from the bed, Isa continues to rub her sensitive core against your throbbing shaft. Maybe here, she's not so much a kitten, but a puppy whose tail wags when happy or excited.

Next to her nightstand, you press Isa against the wall with your body while you adjust your grip on her ass—in this position, your fingers sink deep into the supple flesh. You lower your hips to angle your cock towards the entrance of Isa's cunt and let gravity do its work: she sinks onto your dick with a squeal. Isa gasps sharply as your cock hits a new part of her insides, and she claws at your back harder than ever. You can almost see the outline of your shaft through her taut midriff with how deeply you're penetrating her.

Isa mutters, "So much of Daddy's cock is inside me. It feels so good. Harder. Fuck me harder."

"Alright, don't say I didn't warn you."

You start bouncing her like a cheap toy, pulling her up until only the tip is inside of her, then slamming her back down to the hilt again with enough force to make the pictures on her wall rattle. Isa can do little more than hold onto you for dear life, your cock her only tether to this world—her eyes have gone blank again, and you can feel her going rigid in the same way she did earlier when you made her cum. You continue fucking into her with no pause in your rhythm, no rest for Isa's aching cunt.

"Cum with me, please! Please!"

"Gonna breed you so hard, kitten, fuck, fuck, I'm cumming," you manage to say, and that's all you can muster before the tidal wave of orgasm overtakes you and washes all other thoughts and feelings away. You pump her with everything you have, and it's a struggle to keep your balance, as you're responsible for the weight of both of you.

A strangled sound escapes Isa's lips, head thrown back, a rosy tint on her chest and face, nipples rock hard, breasts squished against your chest, eyes closed, brow furrowed, teeth gritted, thighs squeezing your hips with unbelievable force—it's an allergy-long list.

You know that she's feeling everything you're feeling. With every spasm of her walls around you milking you, your seed erupts inside of her and floods her womb. Your hips are a blur as they pump into Isa's warmth again and again. Her cunt is a hot and sticky mess with juices leaking down her inner thighs—you feel it all around your cock, dripping onto the carpet below—and you're adding thick rope after rope of your cum into the mix. Your knees are weak; they wobble like jello, but you fight to stay upright. Isa is still conscious—somewhat—and she clings to you for support and safety as if she wants to stay connected with you forever. You fuck her until neither of you can take it anymore, her silken heat pulsating with sensitivity. And then, she sighs, and you feel her body go slack, and you're ready to do the same.

The two of you collapse onto the bed, sweaty, tired, satisfied. There's an instant where you consider pulling out, but you don't. You can't; there's nowhere else to go and no one else to be. Isa asked you to cum inside, and you have, so you'll stay inside until your dick softens enough to slide out naturally. You enjoy the hot, slick feel of her insides too much anyway to want to pull out so quickly, the cream leaking out from around your cockhead. You also just want to bask in this afterglow with your precious kitten.

Isa curls up against you as she wraps her limbs around your body and pulls you close, and you feel a strange surge of emotion well up inside of you as you hold her in return. It's not the same euphoria from climaxing or even the physical warmth of sex. It's something deeper, something you've never felt before.

"How was your first time feeling cum inside?" you ask after a moment of silence.

"G-good." She grips your wrist tightly as her face flushes red again. "Even better than I imagined. And the fact it's yours... it makes me feel all fuzzy inside," she finishes softly.

You kiss her cheek. "I know what you mean."

"I can't believe it." Isa purrs as she rubs her ass against your limp cock. "You're really good at that," she murmurs while nuzzling into your neck. "What the hell. And you're telling me you had bad luck with girls before?"

You shrug. "I don't know. They couldn't handle my dick. And maybe I'd get too rough and... ah, never mind." You feel ashamed admitting these things, but Isa is so understanding. She rubs your cheek and smiles back at you.

"Hey, if they can't take it, that's their loss." Isa kisses you sweetly, then giggles.

There's something about the way Isa acts and talks and is, in general, that puts you at ease—as if she can accept you no matter who you are or what you do, which is funny because she barely knows anything about you."Kitten," you say to yourself, like a habit that's formed whenever you see her now. "Seriously, it's perfect for you."

"I love it." Isa responds. "And I love hearing it come out of your mouth."

"Actually. I can think of something better."

She stares up at you, her eyes half-lidded, her smile lazy and contented. "What is it?" she asks.

"Mine. My kitten."

Isa looks away, embarrassed. "Oh, well, okay then, I'm yours."

***

The more Lee Chaeyoung, your lover, opens up to you, the more she reveals how compatible the two of you are. You watch horror movies together, enjoy the same drinks, have similar tastes in food. She confesses a bit too eagerly that she loves to cook, finding it more of a challenge for her than anyone else. Best of all, her sense of humor clicks with yours. You feel like you could just talk for hours, whether it's idle chatter, playing games together, or simply relaxing and enjoying her company. Most importantly, the connection you two feel is immediate; your bodies, your minds, every part of you so in tune.

And then there are those wild fantasies that dance within her mind. It drives you to embark on late-night research sessions, delving into the depths of the internet to discover how best to fulfill her desires. While you cherish these wholesome moments with Isa, the temptation to give in becomes increasingly difficult to resist. With someone as naturally sensual as her, it's only a matter of time before you succumb. You get the funny feeling that Isa might find a way to substitute sleep with sex if given the chance.

After an exhausting day of work, you're at your usual rendezvous point with Isa, but with a few of her friends for dinner. Isa's eyes lock onto yours—you would travel to hell and back if it meant getting to see her smile like that; fortunately, the meeting spot is only a block away from the mundane inferno of your job. She runs up to you and jumps into your arms, her legs wrapped around your waist as she kisses you deeply. Her friends respond with various levels of disgust, amusement, and jealousy.

"How was your day?" she asks as she climbs down.

"It was okay, I guess. A lot better now that I got to see you." You stroke her cheek and kiss her forehead. "Sorry for being late. I had something important I needed to pick up."

"Oh?" A raise of her brow.

You reach into your pocket and pull out a small bag with a collection of hair ties. "Because you lost your favorite one a few days ago," you say.

Her eyes light up when she sees what's inside. "Thank you!" She wraps her arms around your neck and showers your face in kisses.

"Of course," you respond through stifled laughter. "You wouldn't stop whining about it."

She pulls back, mock offense written on her face before she eyes the small gift again with delight twinkling in her eyes. You share an affectionate bump as you return towards where her friends are waiting, the streets alive with the hum of nightlife and the liveliness of the city's residents.

As you all arrive at Sumin's apartment, you feel nervous, excited, and jittery all at the same time. You've only heard about these friends, and now there's all this pressure. Isa keeps staring at you and flashing you little knowing grins, and you can't stop smiling back at her. As you both sit down on the sofa and watch her friends cook in the kitchen, she throws herself into your lap, sitting with her legs draped over yours.

Woah," you say, surprised. "Are you trying to show off in front of your friends? Everyone's watching, you know."

Isa chuckles, leaning back against your chest and looking up at you. "Maybe. Do you want me to stop?"

You smile back at her, squeezing her thigh. "Uhh, a little, to be honest. I don't want your other friends to think of me as some douche."

She rubs her thumb across your palm, nodding in agreement. "I think I've made it obvious how much I like you, but you're right, you're right." Isa pouts, getting off your lap, though it's too late; you feel a stirring in your groin as you look at her slender body.

Just then, her friends finish up the meal, and everyone sits down to eat. Isa insists on sitting next to you, and she keeps smiling and looking over at you as you eat together. "Did you like the beef?" she asks. "I can cook it better than any you've ever had."

"Yeah, it was really good," you reply. You're still hungry. Not food.

"How did you two end up together?" Chaehyun asks before she drinks some more beer.

Sullyoon raises her hand, a grin on her as always when talking about you too. "Oh, it was me." She gives Isa a wink. "I actually set them up because Isa didn't have the balls."

Isa pouts. "Hey, that's not true."

You chuckle, enjoying the way her cheeks are flushed as her friends tease her.

"Besides, that was just the first step. What really sealed the deal was all the snacks he bought for me at the store," she says, grinning proudly.

"Really?" Sumin asks?

"Actually," you interject, "it was love at first sight when we saw each other."

"Eww," she says, rolling her eyes.

You grin sheepishly, putting your hands up defensively. "Well, it's true! We just... I don't know, there's just something about her that feels right."

Isa smiles and bites her lip, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks as she stares at you with dreamy eyes. "Yeah," she agrees softly.

There's a short lull in the conversation as everyone processes what you both have just said. You try to break the mood: "But really, it was the snacks. I'm serious!"

That earns a few laughs from everyone. Isa's hand rests on your shoulder, and you feel her fingers brushing against the back of your neck, brushing the goosebumps she just made. She bites her lip, looks over at you, and you can tell she's dying to get her hands on you, too.

The rest of the night goes along without a hitch as you play some games with everyone, eat more food. Afterwards, you walk with Isa, and she reaches out to grab your hand as you walk. The street lamps act as loyal guides, casting their gentle glow upon the silent, deserted roads, illuminating your path as you journey towards the car.

When you finally arrive at your destination, an electric charge lingers in the air, and if you look up there should be thunder clouds and static electricity where there's an inky black night sky, and kablam—Isa's lips meet yours, and there comes the strike.

As you reluctantly part, gasping for air, Isa leans her head against yours, her finger tracing a delicate path along your cheek. "I had so much fun tonight," she murmurs.

You run a hand through Isa’s red hair, a darker and more faded color. "Yeah. I did too."

"So… my place again?" she asks. It feels like the sort of question she'll be asking a lot.

You meet her gaze, giving her a nod and a renewed kiss. Opening the car door, you allow Isa to slip into the passenger seat.

"Did you like hanging out with my friends?" Isa asks.

"Yeah, a lot." When you step into the vehicle, you take in the new car smell; it's only a few days old. But more overpowering is Isa's hand cream as you take her hand and kiss it again, and again, and again.

She laughs as you tickle her with pecks. "They liked you too! I didn't think you would click so well with them." She pauses. "They also thought we were really cute together."

You start up the car and pull off, eager to get the two of you back to her place. "I'm glad. That means I get to keep being around your friends, which means I get to spend more time with you."

Her cheeks flush and her mouth quirks upward. "Okay, I have a question for you, what do you want to do when we get to my place?" Her tone is teasing and seductive.

"Hmm, I don't know. What do you want me to do to you?"

She grins and giggles, but doesn't answer right away. Her legs cross over each other as she ponders her response. You look at her and smile. You love how cute she looks when she's thinking, and you especially love when she's thinking of you. "We could… cook something. Together. Or, you know, you could read me a book to sleep and—no. Th-the only thing I can think of is last time... God, I don't want you to think of me as some kind of pervert."

"Hey," you say softly. "I like your perversion." Your fingers run along her thigh, brushing against her inner leg. "I've got some things in mind that I'd like to try myself, so it's fine."

"I can't even sleep in my own couch or bed properly without thinking about you fucking me," she mumbles, before biting her lip and staring out the window with a frown.

"I'm sorry."

She waves your apology away dismissively. "No! It's not that bad, I'm definitely exaggerating. But sometimes, before I sleep, I get into the same position and..." Her voice trails off as her eyes close and her eyebrows furrow together. Her hands move on their own, miming the same actions as they had before, fingers running down her torso, over her breasts, her hips. As quick as her hand makes it there, she stops, and the blush deepens on her face. Her eyes flutter open and meet yours, then flick to the road ahead of you. "Yeah," she says, trying to shake off the thoughts plaguing her mind.

"Woah," you say. You reach out and touch her thigh, running your fingertips along the smooth, cool material. "You okay?"

"Yes." Her gaze fixes on the passing scenery beyond the window. "Just... really turned on. And we still have a drive ahead."

You chuckle. "Well, I'll try my best to distract you."

Isa groans as you run a hand up her thigh and squeeze gently. She grabs your wrist. "Ah, ahhh, that feels nice. But don’t get carried away. Crashing isn’t sexy."

You laugh, nodding. "Right, right." You pull your hand back, focusing on the road.

The two of you have more mundane conversations, but somehow the topic comes up: "So you know how you... um, call me kitten?"

A knowing smile tugs at your lips as you lean into her words. "Yep."

Her cheeks flush, and she playfully averts her gaze, her voice tinged with a bashful giggle. "What if, uh, we played more with that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know, since I love cats so much and we can't even have one." She holds up the cat plushie you keep in the car for good measure.

You also note the word "we" and smile to yourself. "Are you sure that's the reason? Not just you being horny."

"Yah!"

"Alright, alright," you concede, the playful tone of your voice mirroring hers. "So, what kind of things were you thinking of? Other than a collar, obviously."

"And a leash."

"Well…" Never mind, you don't mind eschewing some realism here.

"But, yeah, that was the start. That I kinda, you know, wanted to try. But also, you were really good at taking charge. How you teased me and made me wait and rewarded me when I'm good. More of that. I want you to claim me and own me and…" She trails off, too embarrassed and blushing to say anymore. It's incredibly cute to watch her squirm as she tries to bring up the rest of her ideas. With your research, you already have an idea of what sorts of things she might be into, but it’s best to hear from her.

"Go on, kitten, talk," you command, putting a heavy weight in your tone, and she almost immediately lets out a sigh of relief.

"Please, be patient," she whines, laughing. Her voice drops to a whisper, the lust in her eyes undeniable. "You could be the, uhm, dominant one and, uh, I would, do whatever you want me to."

"That’s what I figured."

"Right." She can't even look at you. "I meant, you know, really getting into it, the whole roleplay thing."

The mere idea makes you want to put the pedal to the floor and reach Isa's place as quickly as possible, but you calm yourself.

She continues: "So, you could, maybe pet me, and I would purr."

You pat the head of the cat plushie next to Isa, who places a hand on it, giggling. "Yeah, and you have such a cute little kitty mouth and even your tongue is like a little lappy tongue."

Isa turns even more red and stops talking, covering her face with her hands and laughing. You chuckle, and after a moment she gathers her wits and puts her hands down.

"Yeah," she confirms, her voice filled with both excitement and shyness. "And maybe... you can give me commands to learn some tricks. Like waving my paws at you or shaking my head no." Her words spill forth in a rush of anticipation.

And again, you want to note that’s less of a kitten thing and more of a puppy thing, but you don’t mind making an exception for her. A playful glint dances in your eyes. "And you're meant to be my plaything, a slutty... pet kitten for your owner?" you suggest, your voice heavy with desire and dominance.

She nods, her brain slipping like a broken record. "Yes," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "Everything you said... and maybe you could really punish me if I'm naughty."

Isa's breath hitches, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she considers the question. "However you see fit. But maybe... you could take your belt and use it to smack my butt when I'm being naughty." She pauses, her voice growing softer. "Actually, I kinda like it when you're really rough with me. Like... how I get all dizzy when you tire me out. And it's hot when you treat me like a toy, like when you carried me… fuck. You could even tie me up or choke me, if that's what you want."

"Or I could just use a gag if I felt lazy," you say playfully, the possibilities swirling in your mind.

Isa laughs, a sound that holds both excitement and a hint of anticipation. Yet, beneath the laughter, a whimper escapes her lips. "Speaking of which," she murmurs, "I wanted to buy some things for this." Her eyes meet yours briefly before darting away. Isa squirms in her seat, her cheeks flushed as she busies herself with searching for the necessary items online. The soft glow of the screen illuminates her face, casting a warm and inviting light upon her features.

A smile graces your lips as you pat her head. "Good girl," you praise, your voice filled with affection. "I like it when you're helpful."

Eventually, she gives you directions to some store, and you continue driving in comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts.

The two of you arrive, and you realize quickly that it's a sex shop, the neon sign flickering in the night, windows blackened by curtains. The car engine purrs to a halt.

"I was surprised it's still open," Isa says.

You glance at the shop's entrance, its door ajar, beckoning you inside, even if the rest of the exterior looks quite sketchy. "There are probably customers who can only shop for this kind of thing at night," you reply with a shrug.

Stepping out of the car, Isa leads the way, her stride filled with confidence. The store's interior greets you with emptiness, save for a bored employee who looks as if he'd rather be anywhere else. Undeterred, you grab a shopping basket, its metal handle cool against your palm, and begin to venture down the aisles, searching for the items you need. "I think we could get the collar and leash here," you suggest.

Your eyes scan the shelves until they land upon a display of collars and harnesses. Among them, one catches your attention—a delicate collar adorned with a tiny bell that tinkles with every movement, along with matching cat ears. You pluck it from its hook and hold it up for Isa to see. "This one is cute," you say, excitement lacing your voice.

Isa's eyes light up as she nods in agreement, her fingers reaching out to caress another collar with a keyhole cutout in the front. "This would work too.”

Together, you gather the collars and leashes, placing them gently into the basket. Your exploration continues, which leads you to a section dedicated to all things furry. A playful smirk tugs at your lips as you remark, "I guess we're furries now?"

Isa chuckles "I don't think just wearing cat ears makes me a furry."

Your search within the furry section yields a couple of tail plugs, their soft fur tickling your fingertips. You also grab a simpler metal butt plug, its smooth surface gleaming under the store's fluorescent lights. "But this part of the store has a lot of relevant things for us," you remark.

Isa's laughter echoes through the aisles as she plucks a box from the shelf and holds it up to her head. "Do you think this will look cute on me?" she asks, her eyes sparkling.

Taking the box from her hands, you read the label—a kit to transform Isa into a feline goddess, complete with cat ears, a bushy tail, and mitts made of faux fur for your hands to poke out from. She didn't have to ask—you can already picture it. "Hmm, I think so."

You grab a different set, one without the mitts instead. Your exploration of the shop continues until you find yourselves in the fetish and roleplay section, a realm filled with endless possibilities. Bondage ropes, gags, cuffs, tape, and a blindfold join the basket.

Isa's voice breaks through the silence, her tone filled with awe and amusement. "Wow, we are really going all in."

"Well, I mean, I guess we could gift these if we're not using any of them?"

 "That's true. Although, you know," she pauses, her voice lowering to a whisper, "I think I'd prefer to keep them, just in case."

 You nod, and continue browsing through the selections, adding more and more to the shopping basket. You eventually end up with a pile of toys and accessories, and you head to the counter to check out. The transaction complete, you grab the bags from the car and begin the journey back home.

 The weight of your purchases fills the car. "Don’t think I’ve ever spent that much," you jest, bags as passengers of the back seats. "I could've bought a refrigerator with what we got today. You looked pretty excited."

 Isa nudges your elbow gently as you resume driving. "Aww, c'mon. It wasn't that much."

 "It's a lot. But nothing says we have to use all of these tonight."

"I had fun anyway," she says, her eyes lighting up with a spark of mischief. "Like, I didn't even know they could sell a dildo in that size."

You shake your head in disbelief. "I definitely did not know that either."

The drive home is quieter now; perhaps both of you need some time to digest everything or maybe exhaustion has settled upon your shoulders, remarkably late to be shopping. Regardless, the silence wraps around you like a cozy blanket, comforting and familiar. You steal glances at Isa, her head nodding as she struggles to keep her eyes open, tiredness finally catching up with her.

As you approach the parking lot of her place, she turns to you, a yawn escaping her lips as she stretches. "So, are we really doing this tonight?"

You study her tired expression, a gentle smile curving your lips. "Looks like you don't have the energy for it."

"Mmm," she hums in agreement, her eyelids heavy. "But we can at least try on the collar, right? And maybe a leash too."

You park the car and enter her apartment hand in hand. Both of you are too weary to engage in anything too active. Sitting on her bed, you gaze into each other's eyes, a silent understanding passing between you. With gentle hands and loving intent, you help Isa put on the collar and leash. In this quiet moment, the weight of your purchases fades into insignificance.

She leans against you and nuzzles her head into the crook of your neck, finding solace in the warmth of your embrace. "Mmm, this feels nice," she whispers with a soft smile.

You wrap your arm around her, your touch grazing her back with tenderness. "Yes, it does," you respond, your voice laced with warmth as you press a gentle kiss upon the crown of her head.

Moments pass as you revel in the closeness and intimacy shared between you two. The weariness of the day slowly takes its toll on Isa, her eyes heavy with sleep as she falls into a peaceful slumber. You gently remove the collar from her delicate neck before joining her in a state of restfulness.

As dawn breaks, the darkness still cloaks the world beyond the windowsill, casting a serene atmosphere within the room. Isa lies beside you, her vivid red hair splayed gracefully across the pillow. Shifting slightly against the headboard, you sit up, observing her serene form.

Isa stirs beside you, murmuring softly in her sleep. Your hand instinctively glides through her hair, caressing her strands in an attempt to lull her back into peaceful dreams. Gradually, her restlessness subsides, and she curls up on the bed, her head resting gently in your lap. You continue to pet her, savoring the sensation of her soft hair cascading through your fingers, feeling the tension in her body gradually dissipate under your gentle touch.

Reaching over to the nightstand, you retrieve the collar and leash. With utmost care, you secure the collar around her neck, clasping it tenderly. Tugging gently on the leash, she shifts, turning onto her side as she gazes up at you with sleepy eyes.

"Hello," she murmurs softly, her voice raspy with sleep.

A playful twinkle dances in your eyes as she playfully paws at your pants, her actions betraying her half-awake state. "Hi, kitten," you respond, your words infused with affection.

Her lips curl into a contented smile, her eyes still closed. "Mmm, that feels lovely," she purrs, the warmth of her breath against your groin causing you to grow. She nuzzles her face closer, her cheek rubbing gently against your clothed erection, eliciting a small moan of pleasure from her lips.

"You like that, don't you?" you whisper, pulling on her leash gently. "You like feeling your owner's cock on your face."

"Mmhmm," she mumbles in response, nodding with sleepy acquiescence. Her tongue slips out to moisten your clothed shaft, tracing teasing patterns that leave droplets of saliva upon the fabric.

You allow her to continue. Your hand continues to caress her hair while pulling lightly on the leash. She is fully awake now, but she maintains the guise of half-consciousness, her hands exploring your thighs, your hardened length, and eventually slipping beneath your waistband to cup your testicles. A quiet groan escapes your lips as her fingers tease and stroke your sac, intensifying the pleasure that courses through you.

Driven by desire and the intoxicating sensation of her touch, you slowly lower your pants and boxers. With closed eyes, Isa remains blissfully unaware of the freedom you have granted your erection. A mischievous giggle escapes her lips as your engorged shaft brushes against her nose.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"It's okay," she says, her voice heavy with sleep. "I love how big and heavy your cock is."

You drink in the sight before you, captivated by the image of her mouth agape, her tongue peeking out in anticipation. She searches for your shaft without needing to see it, her breath hot upon your skin. Finally finding your tip, she lavishes it with lazy kitten-like licks that send waves of pleasure cascading through your body.

Isa begins to take your cockhead into her mouth, her movements unhurried as she places it delicately between her lips, producing a gentle hum of satisfaction. A quiet moan escapes your throat as you feel her warm and wet mouth enveloping your tip, her tongue swirling sensually along your shaft. Her fingers find their way to the base of your cock, stroking it with a gentle rhythm.

The leash tightens around your hand as a surge of heat courses through your veins. Isa continues to suckle on your tip with an air of carefree abandon, contentedly humming and purring against the sensitive flesh. Her other hand tenderly caresses your testicles, eliciting a louder moan of pleasure from your lips.

If not for the telltale signs of her increasing arousal, you might still believe the façade of her half-asleep state. Yet, her hips writhe and rise in the air, her thighs rubbing together in a desperate bid for more. Entranced by this view of her unbridled desire, your hand descends to grab and squeeze her ass through her sweatpants. She gasps in response, her hand quickening its pace along your length. The passion between you intensifies as she strives to maintain her lips around your cockhead while her fingers twist around your engorged shaft. The pleasure becomes nearly overwhelming, the warmth and wetness of her mouth coupled with the tantalizing flicks of her tongue sending you hurtling towards the precipice of climax. It is then that you pull on her leash, your voice laden with a mixture of restraint and longing.

You reluctantly withdraw the pulsating erection from her entrancing mouth, causing Isa to emit a soft whimper as you gently lift her to meet your gaze. Her eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed, and her lips swollen from your earlier intimacy. The sight of her arousal is almost too much to bear.

"How about we pick up where we left off last night?" you suggest, your voice barely above a whisper.

Isa nods eagerly, her eyes lustful and full of desire. "Yes, Daddy," she whispers back, her voice trembling with anticipation.

You tenderly stroke her hair, the gesture eliciting shivers from her delicate frame. "Good girl," you murmur, your voice filled with affection. "Now, take off your clothes for me and get on all fours on the bed."

She obeys your command, her movements graceful as she removes her shirt and sweatpants. Her breath catches in her throat as her breasts bounce freely, their curves captivating your gaze. With each article of clothing discarded, her thick hips are bared to you, an invitation that sets your pulse racing. The sight of her thighs, smooth and inviting, arouses a primal desire within you. Your palm glides across their soft, pillowy skin, reveling in the exquisite sensation.

You reach down and retrieve the bags you left on the floor, your fingers grazing over the array of items until they land on the cat tail plug nestled among the contents. The plug end gleams in the soft light, its sleek surface inviting to the touch. With a gentle caress, you turn it over in your hand, feeling the plushness of the fluffy tail against your skin. Running the tail plug over Isa's body, you revel in the power it holds. The toy traces a path along her bare chest and down her bare legs, the contrast of the cold metal and the soft fur eliciting a delicious squirm from her. Your voice laced with a hint of mischief as you ask, "Have you ever tried anything anal before? Or this type of toy?"

Isa shakes her head bashfully, yet there's a palpable eagerness in her eyes as she holds her hands behind her back, offering herself to you completely.

"I'm going to have to prepare you then," you say, taking out a bottle of lube and applying it generously to the plug. You take the bottle with you as you settle on your knees and crouch down behind her ass, holding the toy in one hand. Your index prods the underside of her tailbone, and she gasps as you reach down, kissing her plump asscheeks. "Is this okay?" you ask, wanting to make sure.

"Y-yes, Daddy," Isa stammers. You drag the pad of your finger against her skin, eliciting a tremor from her and a new gasp that drops into a long moan, and then you take that as a cue to rub it down her crack, tickling her pussy along the way. "O-oh, Daddy!" she whines, humping your hand in need.

"Kitten, remember." As you speak, you press two of your fingers between her plump folds, your thumb and forefinger gently squeezing her clit. She wiggles her ass, squeaking. "If you want to be a good girl, you have to be patient."

"Daddy," she begs, "please, please, more..." She bucks again, her wet folds clamping around your fingers and your knuckles squeezing her entrance. You rub them up and down, spreading her juices. She's a sticky mess, her arousal dripping down your hand, and you grin, pleased.

"No, not yet. We have to get your ass ready first." Your pointer digit now slick, you squeeze a dollop of lube in your other hand, and you smear it along her asshole.

"Ah!" Isa cries, tensing up at the sudden cold. You shush her, rubbing her pucker with your fingertip, then gradually pressing your lubed finger into her, past the tight ring of muscle, feeling the walls of her ass tense around your digit. You move slowly, pushing your finger further into Isa, letting her get used to the sensation. You reach the second knuckle, and you can feel her starting to relax, her walls loosening up around you. "Ohhh," she moans, her hands balled into fists on the bedsheets.

You curl your finger, pushing against her walls, trying to get her accustomed to the sensation. She moans louder, her hips bucking back against your hand. She seems to be enjoying herself, so you continue, slipping another finger into her ass, this time your middle finger.

"Ah! Daddy!" She cries out, her back arching and her ass pushing against your fingers, taking them deeper into her. You continue, working your fingers in and out of her ass, stretching her out. "It feels so good, Daddy," she moans, her voice trembling.

You pull your fingers out of her ass, and you place the tip of the plug against her, gently pushing it in. "Here’s the plug now," you explain, as you press it against her entrance. "You need to relax, kitten, and let it in."

With a whimper, Isa goes pliant, and you exert steady pressure. Her brow furrows as the plug breaches her entrance, slowly sinking into her clutching heat. She winces as the girth spreads her wide, and you pause, giving her time to adjust to the intrusion.

When her expression smooths, you resume pushing, watching inch after inch disappear until only the flared base remains nestled between her cheeks. The furry tail sways with each squirm of her hips.

You caress the warm skin of her backside. "How does that feel, kitten?"

"So good, Daddy," she breathes, gazing at you through heavy lids. "I didn't know my ass could stretch like that."

A surge of pride washes over you as you reward her obedience with words of affirmation. "Good girl," you murmur, pressing a kiss against her ass before redirecting your attention to her dripping-wet pussy. With a teasing motion, you spread her folds apart, running your fingers up and down her slick slit, teasing her entrance. Her thighs fall open with a needy whine. "I think we should have some breakfast first," you say, unable to keep the grin from your voice.

She whines. "Nooo, but I, I need your cock, in me, or your fingers, or anything—"

"Not yet," you say sternly. "You have to be patient. And if I tell you to wait, then you'll wait."

Isa pouts in response, her bottom lip jutting out in a sulky pout, but ultimately nods her agreement. You remove the leash from her collar, and the two of you make your way towards the kitchen. As she walks, there’s a slight awkwardness to her gait, a subtle gracelessness that somehow only adds to her allure. Her posterior sways enticingly with each step, captivating your attention as you trail behind in a purposeful slowness. She knows what she’s doing too: the seductive undulation of her hips from side to side makes her tail bounce playfully, and she casts a mischievous smile over her shoulder.

You follow her lead, entering the kitchen where you open the fridge and begin gathering ingredients. Your eyes flick towards Isa, who’s settled herself onto a barstool. Her legs are spread wide, and her fingers tease and rub at her own clit. The tail plug nestled between her legs seems like the most natural extension of her body. A mixture of surprise and intrigue crosses your face. "What are you doing?" you ask, walking over to her.

She blinks up at you with feigned innocence, but a glint of mischief dances in her eyes. "Just getting used to my new tail, Daddy," she purrs playfully. "Aren't I such a good kitten?"

You shake your head. "Looks like you're trying to make me fuck you." You reach over, taking hold of the base of the tail plug and pulling it out slightly, before shoving it back in. Isa cries out, her body tensing up as you repeat the action, fucking her ass with the plug. "If you can't control yourself, then maybe I'll just have to punish you."

A chorus of moans escapes Isa's lips, her defiant fingers moving faster against her clit in a desperate plea for more. "Yes, Daddy, please," she begs, her voice a symphony of need and longing.

Your grin widens, a surge of dominance coursing through your veins as you grab her arm, pulling it away from her throbbing core. "No, kitten," you assert firmly, your voice commanding. "You're not allowed to touch yourself."

Isa whimpers in protest, her desire palpable, but she obediently complies with your command, her hands remaining bound behind her back. You release her arm, your eyes locked on the sight of her restrained beauty, her need radiating from every pore.

"Since you insist on misbehaving like that," you declare, your voice laced with a hint of playful authority, "I'll have to tie you properly." With purposeful determination, you retrieve the rope you had acquired for this very purpose, expertly maneuvering it around her delicate wrists, binding them securely together. Isa's whimper of surrender echoes through the room as the rope bites into her skin, marking her as yours.

With the task completed, you turn your attention back to the kitchen, resuming your culinary endeavors. The rhythmic sound of knife meeting cutting board fills the air as you deftly chop vegetables and toss them into a waiting bowl. Isa's eyes never leave you, her body wriggling with anticipation and desire, the tail plug nestled between her legs a constant reminder of her submissive state.

"Daddy, please," she pleads, her voice filled with a desperate longing. "I want your cock so bad. I need you to fuck me."

You shake your head, ignoring her, and continue working. You add the dressing to the salad, and you bring it over to her. She glances toward the cutlery in front of her, and you nod—if she wants to be a naughty animal, then she deserves to be treated like one. You also give her water in a bowl for added measure. You smile as you watch her try to pick up the salad with her mouth, struggling to use her lips and tongue to get the lettuce into her mouth. She eventually manages it, and she starts chewing, swallowing the vegetables. Isa also laps up from the bowl with a blush on her face.

You watch her eat, pleased, and you stroke your cock through your pants, teasing yourself. After she finishes the salad and as much of the water as she can, you get up from your seat, and you grab a hold of the rope binding her wrists together, pulling on it and leading her to the bedroom.

You help carefully pull the tail plug out of her ass, and you slip in a new butt plug, smaller and more discreet. "I think you can handle this one," you say, squeezing her ass and rubbing her back. She mewls, her legs quivering.

You grab a pair of panties and slip them onto her, helping her into them and pulling them up her thick thighs. She wiggles her hips, struggling to keep herself balanced as you adjust them for her, before you take out a skirt and help her step into it.

"We're going out today, kitten," you say. "You're going to wear your collar and cat ears in public, and no one will know that your slutty kitten asshole is going to be filled up. And if you’re good, then maybe you’ll get what you really want."

"Really?" she asks, her eyes widening with excitement.

You nod. "Yes, really."

"O-Okay." You quickly dress and head outside, the two of you enjoying the morning and the quiet streets. You don't have any concrete plans today, but there's a list of things in your mind that you would enjoy getting Isa to do: pet her in public, talk her into cumming just from sitting in your lap, even a spank here or there. While you don't bring the leash this time, you might try it some time in the future, and you want her to be comfortable. Right now, she just looks like a fashionable girl wearing animal ears.

As the two of you go on with your day, you try to spot signs of the fact she's aroused: the way she walks, the way she moves her arms, her eyes constantly wandering down and scanning the bulge in your pants. You catch her trying to squeeze her legs together or rub her thighs to get friction. At one point, when you sit in an isolated corner of a coffee shop, she rests her head in your lap and purrs contentedly. You gently rub her hair and scratch behind her ears, whispering for her to "think about Master's cock filling you up while your other hole's all plugged up" but also "not to cum without Master's permission." There's a soft moan against your crotch, then a warm sigh as her cheek rubs into your leg.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

After spending the whole day taking her around and making her go do mundane tasks with the plug, and most importantly having her beg and beg for you to fuck her—"in the park, on a bench, or the bushes in a hiking trail, anywhere please" she said—you're excited, eager for this evening. Isa looks back at you with tears brimming in her eyes, and her knees wobbling, as she's panting and trying to hold back from cumming. "Please," she begs. "I need it. Please, anything."

You think you have her just about at her limit when you both return to the car to drive back to Isa's place. Even the walk from the parking lot to Isa's apartment door has her clinging to you for support as she stumbles.

"Hey, kitten," you say, touching the small of her back under her shirt. "Are you okay?"

"It's fine. I'm just, so, so, worked up, fuck. I want your cock," she pouts, tears threatening to roll down her cheeks. She hunches forward, unable to look at you.

"I bet," you tease, kissing the top of her head. "I'll give you what you want soon, kitten. Just a little longer."

She whimpers. "Please."

"Okay, c'mon, baby," you say, letting go and opening the door for her. She staggers in on her jelly-like legs, her cheeks flushed and her breath hitching. You get behind her and hug her; holding her as tightly as you are, Isa relaxes into you. Her heart is pounding wildly against your palm. You set her down onto the couch, and she gives you a grateful smile, which you kiss in turn. Your hands roam all over her, down her waist and settling between her legs. You slip under her panties and tease the metal plug in her butt, twisting it until you hear a deep sigh from her. "You're so wet," you tell her. "Look at you. So sweet."

She makes a keening noise when you tug on the plug, just so, just enough to remind her of what you both want. Your finger teases along her folds, gently brushing up and down against the seam, up towards the hood of her clit. Isa shivers.

"Do you want me to make you cum?" you ask as you rub her clit.

"Mmhm," Isa nods furiously, her hands coming up to grasp at your shoulders, looking for purchase. "P-please. Make me cum."

At this point, a single digit thrust would probably be enough to push her over the edge. Instead, you remove your hands from her panties, place them on her breasts, squeeze them, and gently tug on her nipples. You love the way the skin of her neck and breasts blush with arousal. "You've been a good kitten," you say, cupping her ass and pulling her closer. "I'm so proud of you."

“Can, can I get a reward?” she asks, almost in tears.

You brush her tousled hair. “Shh, shh, of course. Do you want to cum on Daddy’s face?”

She nods emphatically while her pussy soaks her panties and leaks onto the couch. “Y-yes, Daddy, anything.”

In response, you pick her up and carry her to the bedroom, and she clings to you like a lifeline, as if afraid that if she lets you go, you won’t touch her and she might break into pieces from frustration. You lie down on the bed, and Isa climbs on top of you.

She quickly aligns her pussy with your face, and your mouth waters in anticipation at the sight of her darkened panties. You hook one finger around the thin and wet fabric and pull them down to reveal her swollen pussy, her asshole plugged tightly. “You smell so good,” you say, licking your lips as she mewls. “Sit.”

Isa does as told, and the warmth of her mound rests on your chin. She braces her hands on the headboard as you raise your head a bit to reach her core. You kiss her lower lips with reverence and delicacy, like you would kiss her lips. They're warm, warm and soaked with her honey, and they part easily to reveal the pink insides. Her clit is standing erect, almost painfully so, and the hood has pulled away.

You begin by flicking the tip of your tongue against it. She jumps. Then, you take the sensitive pearl into your mouth. Isa groans at this, but you don't stay for too long. You place wet, loud kisses against her mound and inner thighs, before going back to her clit. This time, you suck on it. A little nip sends her jumping on you again, and she yelps. The next kiss is quick and soft.

As she grows accustomed to the new stimulation, you suck and lick and nibble her clit, all while keeping an eye on her face. You see it scrunch up, her nose crinkling in pleasure, her eyes shut. Her moans are accompanied by whines, little pathetic sounds that let you know she's getting close to her breaking point.

There is nothing quite like eating out Isa while she has a toy in her ass and she's wearing cat ears and a cute collar, but more delicious than any picture is the taste of her cream, musky and tangy and addictive. It drips from the swollen labia that your tongue slides through, coating your tongue and making you dizzy with lust. It's strong and you can't help but groan as you dig your face deeper against her sex, lips meeting lips as your tongue.

Isa grinds down on your mouth, and her hips tremble when you begin to circle your tongue around her clit, giving the firm bundle of nerves light but frequent attention. She's a mess on you, and you're happy to be cleanup duty, your chin and shirt a mop. As she rocks back and forth, you reach up at her nipples through her shirt and twist and pinch and roll the stiff buds.

With that, Isa's hips rock one last time as her thighs close and press against the sides of your head. You hear the distant, muffled, muted sounds of her whining, crying, moaning. By now, you can even feel how hard her heart is beating. Her breaths become erratic, and the trembling of her hips turns into shaking. She leans backwards, balancing her weight on your midsection, and the tension in her body snaps.

For a moment, she's floating, mind empty, then everything rushes into her brain like a dam has broken. For the first time that day, she cums, and she cums hard. She's always thought of it as "seeing stars" but now it feels more like being tossed into space and feeling all the gravity around her all at once. All the weight on her body disappears, but the pressure of you increases. She doesn't hear, she doesn't feel. Isa is the color white.

All of a sudden, Isa feels weak. It feels like the universe is a heavy blanket on her. She can barely hold her weight on her body. You're the only thing that feels real at the moment. That, and her pussy, which still tingles with her orgasm, and you can only imagine how the plug in her ass is magnifying everything.

Isa collapses against you, the softness of her flesh warming your chest. She's still convulsing with little aftershocks, her entire body covered in goosebumps. She hears herself saying things like "I love you so much" and "thank you Daddy thank you". The words leave her mouth on their own as she begins to come down from her high.

For as much as you love being her seat, you pull her down into a spoon. You wrap your arms around her. Her heart pounds against your forearm and hand. The scent of her shampoo and sweat fill your nostrils. Everything is still hot from her body heat, and you take a deep breath and exhale through your mouth. "Was that worth the wait, kitten?" you ask her.

"Yeah," she says weakly, the only word she can manage at the moment. Her legs are still shaking, and she takes a few moments to focus on slowing down her breathing and her heartbeat. "Well..."

"Well? You need more, huh?" you chuckle. You should've learned to never be surprised at Isa's appetite by now, and the plug in her ass isn't making her any less horny.

"Mmm, mhm. I need your cock so badly. Fuck my ass. I need Daddy to claim me."

You kiss her cheek and tell her to flip over so that she's laying on her stomach, her round ass staring up at you. "You did such a good job," you whisper as you rub your palms across her lower back before lifting her skirt to get a good view.

The plug sits in Isa's asshole, glistening with her fluids. A bottle of lube waits on the nightstand, and you pour it generously over her crack. With as much care as you can muster, you begin to slowly draw it out, savoring the sight of her clenched hole stretching to accommodate the thickest part of the toy. There is an audible pop when the tapered plug slips free, causing Isa to hiss in pleasure as her rectum reflexively tightens to fill the emptiness left inside.

Her delicate fingers reach behind to part her plump cheeks and expose herself further to your gaze. You bite your lip, taken by the lewdness of the image in front of you. You add more lube to the area, another spurt on your index, and circle around the ring of her anus to coat it before pushing a finger in, massaging her inner walls. "How does that feel, baby?" you ask, watching the way her head jerks back and she squirms beneath you.

"Amazing," she mutters, her voice sounding far away. Prone on the bed, Isa is powerless to resist as you slowly remove your finger, adding a second digit. Her ass grips you so snugly, sucking you deeper with each pump, like it's a sleeve for your fingers. She trembles at the feeling of fullness inside, at the raw vulnerability of being splayed before you like this, your gaze unabashedly on her naked ass as you work her open. "C-can you bring me a pillow, please?"

You kiss the nape of her neck as you reach down and slide the pillow under her pelvis. Her ass raised, her back arched, Isa is the picture of supplication. "So beautiful," you whisper against her skin, and she shudders with arousal.

"Da... daddy, do you need to stretch me more?" Isa stammers. You place your palm at the small of her back, caressing the dip of her spine with gentle circles.

"No, kitten," you soothe. "You're ready."

"Yes. God, yes."

With one hand squeezing the supple curve of her butt, you pour lube liberally across the tip of your erection. You position the head of your cock at the rim of her ass and begin to apply pressure, using your thumbs to massage her soft cheeks. Even your tip struggles to breach her, her entrance reluctant to admit anything more girthy than a couple of fingers. With more lube, and two hands spreading her ass open, you finally push through her anal muscles' resistance, gasping as the tightness and warmth of her insides engulfs the head of your shaft.

Isa tenses in response, her hands clawing at the bed sheets. The sound she lets out is almost like a pained meow as your cock plunges further into her depths. "Relax," you murmur, using a tender yet reassuring voice to soothe her.

She responds by shifting her hips, attempting to adjust the angle to your thrust, her movements awkward and fumbling due to her precarious position. Her efforts cause her to clench down on your shaft, a wave of pleasure washing over you, before relaxing once again.

A shaky breath escapes your throat as you feel yourself slipping past the ring of her sphincter. "Good, good girl," you praise once you've sunk halfway into her, taking a moment to drink in the erotic view in front of you. "Fuck, you're tight. Almost there."

Her body shudders as she fights to hold still, to restrain her hips from moving on their own accord, a low cry emanating from her lips.

Your hand roams over her waist and upper thigh, seeking out the delicate bud hidden in the cleft of her pussy. You rub a couple of fingers over the tender flesh, delighting in the way her back arches as you stimulate the swollen organ. Savoring her broken sobs, you ease forward, burying the rest of your length in her ass. You gently slap her butt, marveling at the way it bounces with each contact.

Isa moans as you pull your dick out slightly before plunging it back into her ass, beginning with slow, shallow pumps. The motion is easy and fluid, despite her virgin-tightness.

You press your palms flat against the mattress and use your forearms for leverage to piston into her. As you drive your shaft deeper into her ass, the combination of her intoxicating aroma and your lust for her spurs you to move faster and harder, until you find yourself rutting her, your balls slapping against her puffy cunt with each frantic thrust.

"Yes! More," she begs, and you groan in reply. Your eyes are fixed on your cock, sliding in and out of her stretched hole, the ridges of your shaft disappearing and reappearing as you pump. Your mouth goes dry as you watch the way her body clings to your cock, how she's utterly and completely full of you.

"Fuck, look at you, so greedy," you growl as she pushes back against your cock. You pause for a brief moment and she whines in protest, then you unsheathe your dick and slap it against her gaping asshole. She jolts at the impact, her body shivering at the feeling. Your hips pull back, and with a powerful snap, you ram your cock into her asshole. She cries out in pain and pleasure, the sound echoing throughout the room.

"D-daddy, don't tease me!" she exclaims, her voice pleading, yet laced with desperation. You smirk at the familiarity of her tone.

You bend down, wrapping your arm around her torso and pulling her up and flush against your chest, the weight of her breasts pressing against your bicep and forearm. In this position, both of you are sitting up, her in your lap like you're her throne—her master, her god, her owner. She leans into you, tilting her head back to look up into your eyes, the adoration and reverence shining within her gaze unmistakable. Your shaft presses against her lower back, and she wiggles her ass desperately to urge you to keep fucking her.

You kiss her neck, inhaling her scent, her arousal. With such an incredible woman in your arms, you are overcome by the desire to mark her, to stake your claim on her, to brand her as your possession. In one swift movement, you sink your teeth into her neck, biting into the delicate skin. Isa whines, her head thrown back, eyes half-lidded and glazed over "Mine," you utter in a low, possessive voice.

"Yours," she answers breathlessly, her lips curled in a delirious smile.

You wrap two large hands around her waist, angling your hips just so as you lift her up, and then, she's sliding down your cock, enveloping you in her warmth as you fill her to the brim. As she takes you into her, she stretches open and lets out an obscene moan, her hands gripping the sheets tightly.

"D-daddy!" Isa whimpers, her body trembling at the intensity of the sensations flooding her. "You're so big."

Sitting on you like this, your cock feels impossibly thick inside of her. She can't help the way her thighs twitch involuntarily, nor can she ignore the way her pussy clenches at nothing. With both of her hands, she grabs onto your arm and guides your hand down between her legs, right over her pussy.

"Touch me," she breathes.

You grin at her request, and you oblige, bringing your fingers to her clit. At that moment, you roll your hips upward, meeting her downward motions with a rough, deep thrust, the force of which knocks the breath out of her lungs. Any amount of control she has above you evaporates at this point, leaving her helpless as you bounce her in your lap while your digits play at her raw and pink nub, or probe her slick, wet entrance.

The room is filled with the lewd sounds of her whimpers, of the wet slaps of her ass against your hips, of her needy begging, and of your guttural grunts of effort. Despite the intense climax that shook her only minutes ago, Isa finds herself teetering on the edge of another, and she yearns for release. She's not the only one: her walls cling tightly to your shaft, refusing to yield its grip, and your length pulses with the desperate desire to burst.

"God, I want to feel you cum in my ass, Daddy," she sighs, her head rolling back to lean on your shoulder. Her eyes are closed in concentration, and her mouth hangs open as she gasps and pants and cries with each penetration. You grunt, your gaze hungrily drinking in the sight of her: her reddened, sweaty face, the droplets of perspiration that cling to her collarbone, the rapid rise and fall of her heaving chest, the swaying of her heavy, unrestrained tits.

You suckle at the skin behind her ear, grazing her lobe with your teeth. "Then cum, kitten."

In an instant, a tremor shoots up her spine. With a scream of pure pleasure, her body becomes rigid and then goes limp, her senses overloading as her cunt clamps around your fingers—which doesn't compare at all to her ass clenching and tightening around your cock.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum too—"

But Isa's mind is hazy with ecstasy, her body taut with her own release, that she barely registers the hot and sticky substance suddenly gushing into her anal entrance. Yours on the other hand is sharp and clear as day, and you allow yourself to drown in the euphoria that comes with each spurt. She's a perfect fit for you, made to be yours, and you've marked her as such. Every time she clenches in her pleasure, your cock responds with its own throb, its own gush, its own pulse.

When you collapse, she collapses with you, her thighs sticky and wet as she pants on the bed, lying beside you. You grab a bunch of tissue paper, clean the leaky, creamy mess you've made of her ass.

Her eyes flutter shut and you whisper words of affection and praise. You cradle her in your arms, stroking her hair and tracing patterns across the flushed skin of her back and belly, enjoying the warmth of her body. Her head rests on your shoulder, your neck. Your legs are entwined, and the softness of her chest molds to the planes of your own. Her breathing eventually steadies, and her pulse calms.

Isa lifts her head up, placing her hands on your chest to prop herself up. With lidded eyes and a mischievous smile, she whispers, "I hope you know what you started, Daddy."

A wicked grin creeps upon your lips at her implication, and your hands find their way to her waist, squeezing her hipbones. "And what's that?"

Her gaze softens, and she gazes lovingly into your eyes, a shy smile on her lips. "I hope you don't plan on going anywhere. I don't think I can ever let you go, especially now," she says softly, a blush rising to her cheeks.

"I wouldn't dream of it." You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "You're mine. So I'm yours, kitten."

"Good."

Isa smiles, and you'll never fail to fall in love with the sight of her radiance; that smile makes you believe you may never fail again.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Not really in the Christmas/holiday spirit but I figured might as well pull it out of the draft archives before the year end.

[bootycallin]

🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ want me that top!

꩜ .ᐟ basically; caitlyn’s that kind of top…

cw; female reader. stráp usage (r! receiving). stráp referred to as côck bc. cait is MEANNN. brief mentions of edġíng. sweáring. pet names. degrádátion but also praișe lol. dírty talk. däcryphïlia if u squint. not proofread.

a/n; never wrote for caitlyn. please do excuse any shitty writing and ooc. anyways she’s so hot

NSFW UTC.

cait’s that mean kind of top. it’s not that she doesn’t want you feeling good! it’s the opposite. she wants you feeling good for so long you’re crying and writhing, begging for her to just let you cum.

yes, cait’s the type of top that edges you for her own enjoyment. next question.

cait, contrary to vi, is that type of top that loves straps. something about dicking you down, seeing your eyes roll—she knows it’s not her dick but damn, she can cum on fucking your pussy with that dildo if it comes down to it.

cait’s that type of top to say the nastiest shit with the sweetest tone of voice. yeah? you like that, mm? i know you do, baby. such a pretty little slut for me. her praise gives you mixed signals but she doesn’t stop, because she can feel your pussy twitch every time she calls you her slut.

cait’s that type of top that has surprising self control. she doesn’t get angry with brats and she doesn’t get jealous often, as a kiramman should. that doesn’t mean she won’t show you what happens when you’re a brat.

cait’s that type of top that gets what she wants. she’s always had it all on a silver platter and that isn’t changing now, not even when it comes to you.

cait’s that type of top that will take you anywhere. and i mean, anywhere.

cait’s that type of top that spoils you rotten. be it with clothes or making you cum. when you earn it, that is. yes, she will give you the most luxurious, expensive lingerie sets in piltover, if you agree to model for her. if you act good for her, i guarantee she will give you the best orgasms of your life. there’s nothing she likes more than to see you submit.

cait’s that type of top to be mean, but she has good intentions. she can’t help herself sometimes. you’re easy to poke and pick at when you’re under her, and you’re just so cute when you cry. she loves you, though. she swears. her good girl.

“what was that, baby?”

she was making fun of you. you were babbling incoherently, royal blue strap reminiscent of her own hair color plunging in and out of you, tip repeatedly kissing your cervix until you couldn’t think anymore.

“caiiittt…!” you whine out. she’s the only thing you can think of. pretty much any other words escape you as she fucks you, moaning and whining her name over and over and over again.

“hmm? yeah? you like that, huh?” she’s smirking. it’s so cute. you’re so cute, chest heaving with every moan and whine, tears pricking at your eyes at the sheer pressure on your womb. her pelvis repeatedly rubs and smacks against your clit, sharp little stings of pleasure to the puffy nub. not enough to cum, just enough to drive you to that edge and then away again. a constant swing of being at your limit and being pulled back by caitlyn.

“look at me.” she snaps suddenly, driving her cock deep into you, tip now practically smushed against your insides as she leans up against you, legs pushed up near your sides. she slings them over her shoulders, one hand holding your knee and the other grabbing your chin to make you look straight at her. her nails bite into the skin ever so slightly, a subtle reminder.

“c’mon. tell me how you like it, baby,” she grins, her movements suddenly continuing, but slower. methodical. she just rubs into you, just barely leaving an inch of space before going back in. her tip is massaging your uterus, you can feel it, and it almost feels like you’re about to explode.

“caitlyn!” you cried, legs trembling over her shoulders, “p-pleaseee…”

“please what?” she’s not letting you get the easy way out. no way. she’s panting, the heat coiling in her stomach growing the more she sees you beg and whine and cry her name. the rubber of the strap rubs against her own cunt, a delicious, excruciating continuous stimulus that she can’t help chasing.

“please… please fuck me, please… wanna cum, please let me—“

you’re cut off by a sharp smack of skin against skin as she suddenly thrusts full force into you. “good girl.” she nearly growls, adjusting her hold on your thighs, nearly folding you just to get the deepest angle she could. her thrusts grow more erratic, harder, and she grins at the little bulge that forms in your tummy every time she thrusts back into you.

you’re moaning so loud you might as well be screaming. god spare any maid in the kiramman estate from hearing you two. caitlyn has the decency to lean forward, kissing you open-mouthed and all, swallowing allll your moans into her own. you’re blubbering incoherently, tears making your eyes glassy—which just riles her up further.

“gonna!-“

“gonna cum, yeah? come on. cum for me, baby, you’ve earned it.”

she barely gets through her sentence, as you cum over her cock, earning her a chuckle as you paint her shaft a pretty milky white. your back arched and your head flopped back, moaning out a long whine of her name.

“yeah… that’s it. make a mess. you’ve been so good for me, haven’t you? just let it all out.” she fucks you through all of your orgasm, picking up her pace a little just to see your juices gush onto her lower belly. she goes until she reaches her own orgasm. the friction driving her into a wave of pleasure that makes her nearly collapse over you.

she lets your thighs fall from her shoulders. her chest presses against yours, her movements halt inside you as she groans a curse into your neck, riding out her own high.

you both lay there for a minute or so, just catching your breath. she picks her head up, kissing your neck, up to your jaw, up to your lips.

“my flower,” she muttered, “so perfect. so good for me. i love you.”

cait’s that type of mean top… but not cruel. she’s gonna let you cum—eventually. she wants to see you cum. there’s nothing better than seeing you burst with pleasure because of her. but she’s not letting you do that, not until all you can think about is her, her, her<3

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 © bootycallin on tumblr. do not copy, translate or cross post without permission. ᛝ

[zvdvdlvr]

Indisputably Difficult to Choose ✰ JayVik x Reader

✰. You’re Viktor and Jayce’s new roommate- a flirt and a damn good cook. Thankfully, you get along well with the two men! Maybe too well. Eventually, you can’t tell where the line between ‘just friends’ and ‘more than friends’ is.

✰. WC: 1.7k. Female reader. I have no idea if Vik is russian or Czech but most reddit posts say hes russian😭??? Friends to lovers trope. Miscommunication trope? Oh well! Sorry for any errors in the spanish or russian pet names- I definitely didn’t use google translate. . .

It wasn’t every day that you got roomed with both life-altering scientists. And yet, here you were, offering them a sly smile. “Hello.”

Jayce smiled right back at you easily and opened the door further. “Welcome home, stranger,” he greeted.

After adjusting the backpack hanging from your shoulders, you stepped into the room. “Good to see a handsome face whenever I arrive home,” you murmur absentmindedly as you examine the walls and floors. “Where’s my room?”

Jayce nodded towards the hallway. “Down there.”

Later that night you met Viktor. Tall, lean, devilishly handsome Viktor.

You were making yourself at home in the kitchen making pasta for dinner when he cleared his throat. Turning, you smiled at the man in front of you. “I hope you like tortellini, Viktor,” you said.

He hummed. “I’ll eat anything that isn’t cooked by Jayce.” Viktor hears an incredulous gasp from the other room and chuckles. “It smells good,” he says politely, stepping closer to the stove.

“I like to make a good impression.”

And by God, you do.

Almost two weeks later you finally find your rhythm. Wake up, get ready for class, go to class, go to the lab to help out the boys (because helping out world-changing scientists looks damn good on your resume), decide what to have for dinner, drag the boys home, go to sleep, repeat. A long and tiresome but rewarding list.

Five and a half months later and midterms were finally over! You were on break and had so much free time on your hands but didn’t feel like going in to work every day. So: you made your boredom the boys’ problem (though you knew they wouldn’t actually complain).

Today was one of the rare days you could convince Jayce and Viktor to stay home with you because there weren’t any classes and ‘why let your favorite roommate be all by her lonesome?’ It was easy to convince Jayce. When Jayce finally relented, the both of you turned to Viktor with hopeful smiles.

“As long as you make that beef stew for dinner,” Viktor finally grumbled. As he hobbled away dramatically, Jayce laughed as you whooped excitedly.

When you were done basking in glory, Jayce wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You would have bet your life savings that Jayce melted further into you when you wrapped your arm around his waist since you could not reach his shoulders. “Viktor wouldn’t actually say no to you anyway, doll,” Jayce said casually, flopping onto the couch and pull you with him.

Dynamics between the three of you were. . . perplexing. Viktor was a quietly independent person who bonded with you over food, riddles, and literature. When he had seen your Harlan Ellison novels, you swore you saw the metaphorical wall of defense behind his piercing amber eyes crumble. The first time Viktor sat on the counter and had an emotionally intelligent conversation with you (while you made chicken fajitas as per Jayce’s request) was the first time you heard Viktor truly laugh- a sound from deep in his throat that temporarily distracted you from the sizzling meat in front of you. After that, Viktor had warmed up to you enough to slide into the hug Jayce pulled you in when they returned from the lab.

Jayce had almost immediately clicked with you. His charmingly pathetic smile and himbo aura were captivating. Jayce had gasped allowed when you were still decorating your new room. “Oh my Jan- is that. . ?” He then started helping you tack up posters and other goodies you had to decorate your space while gushing about some of the bands, movies, and television programs you were interested. Jayce, you learned, had a soft spot for predicable romance and science fiction movies- though he often narrated errors in information while watching anything sci-fi. He was also very physically affectionate: pulling your legs into his lap during movie nights, gently moving you by the waist whenever he was in the kitchen, wrapping an arm around you while walking to the coffee shop, and an obscene amount of hugs. You thought it was a little odd at first, but he does it to Viktor too- and you couldn’t really judge because you flirted with them and called them nicknames. A lot. 

When dinner time finally rolled around, you had a pot of steaming vegetable stew on the stove. Three bowls and three spoon were all waiting to be used off to the side. Viktor had made a beeline to the kitchen the second ‘food’ left your mouth and by the time Jayce got up and you’d entered the kitchen, Viktor’s bowl had tears of broth rolling down the side as it pleaded for help. “Smells good, Солнышко,” he praised. 

“Thank you, darling scientist of mine,” you hummed, handing Jayce a bowl.

“Wha-“ Jayce spluttered behind you. “What about me? Have I not earned the title of your favorite darling scientist?”

Viktor snorted as he started the short trip to the dinner table.

You threw your head back in laughter, eyes closed. If you were watching the two bickering men boys, you would have seen Jayce’s mock hurt melt completely off his face as he watched you laugh happily before letting his eyes flicker over to Viktor; who was completely immersed with you (not the stew). You didn’t see Viktor looking up to Jayce with a certain look in his eyes and tilt his head all in the blink of an eye.

“I mean, Viktor did fix my console and the T.V. without me having to ask,” you say as your laughter fades. “I guess pretty boy over there has you beat.”

Jayce clicks his tongue, catching your eyes. “Then I’ll have to make it up to you, tu hermosa mujer,” he says with a low tone, the spark in his eyes that burns in his eyes when you usually flirt was absent. “Hm?”

You blink. Mouth open as your eyes frantically flicker between Jayce’s eyes and the unchanging smile on his face. “I- I guess so.”

Viktor coughs so loud you instinctively take a step back. “If you guys are continue kindling your blooming romance, I’d like to remind you that I am still here.”

You don’t look at Jayce as you blink out of the confused haze you found yourself in thirty seconds ago and start to the table. “Don’t be jealous, pretty boy,” you halfheartedly joke at Viktor.

“I’m not jealous,” Viktor says, watching you intently. “Because I know I could be better than Jayce at anything you wanted.”

“Is that right?”

Viktor raises and eyebrow at Jayce as he sits beside you in his normal spot. “Indisputably.”

“I don’t know what you guys are playing at,” you cut in finally, letting your spoon rest against the side of the half-finished soup. “But clearly there’s something I’m not understanding. This-“ you gesture from Jayce to you to Viktor “-is starting to confuse me. And I- I need you guys to figure it the fuck out because I can’t keep lov-“ you cut yourself off. Heaved a sigh before standing up and leaving with a mere ‘I need to think’.

“Y/n.” Jayce watches you grab your wallet and the coat nearest to the door- which happened to be Viktor’s- and ignore him. “Y/n, baby, please-“

You slam the door on the way out.

Viktor is standing up before Jayce can say anything. “Let’s go,” Viktor tells Jayce, shoving his arms into another one of his coats. “I don’t want her out during the dark.”

Jayce understands Viktor’s fear, knowing Viktor’s anxiety was multiplied tenfold by what he’d experienced and heard during his life in the Undercity. “Okay.”

Adrenaline and anxiety propelled Viktor forward into the night, rain soaking his useless coat. Jayce had your location pulled up on his cell and was confident that he and Viktor were close. “We’re almost there,” he told Viktor over the pattering rain.

“There! Is that-?”

“Y/n!” Jayce shouted, seeing the hooded figure halt for a second before you started walking faster.

“Куколка please wait,” Viktor called. “I cannot run after you- please just talk to us!”

You stopped. Turning, the pair could see your bloodshot eyes and wobbling lip.

“Oh, my Родная,” Viktor cooed, dropping his cane to wrap his arms around you and Jayce.

Jayce held you and Viktor upright, feeling his heart shatter when he felt you shaking in his arms- crying over something he did. “Y/n, mi amor, I’m so sorry,” he finally said. “We are sorry.”

Viktor leaned on Jayce as he went on. “Y/n, I think it’s safe to say that Jayce and I. . . our feelings for you, you see-“

“We’re in love with you,” Jayce blurts. “The cuddling, the cooking, the affection, the flirting-“

Viktor nods. “But we didn’t know how to tell you without making you choose because, quite honestly, I am scared that you’ll leave or- or, I don’t know. The point is: I didn’t want to complicate our relationship by telling you the way we feel for you.”

“My boys,” you murmur, your hand going up to cup each of their cheek. (Thank Janna that there were no passersby due to the rain.) “Would it be wrong to say that I don’t want to choose? Because. . . I don’t think I could choose.”

Jayce feels himself exhale. Viktor sags against him: the soul-crushing possibility of you leaving was out of the question. “Please come home, mujer preciosa,” Jayce pleads weakly, leaning into your palm. “We can make this up to you-“

“However you want,” Viktor adds quickly, sticking his bottom lip out with a shrug.

You laugh weakly and nod. “Yeah- yes. I’d love to go home. Hold on, pretty boy,” you say before bending down to retrieve Viktor’s cane.

“Is it too early to say I love you?” Viktor asks, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You chuckle and let yourself be sandwiched between the two men who you’d been enamored with for the past six months. “I already know you do, but it wouldn’t hurt to say,” you say.

“Well, we can say it as long as you want us to,” Jayce says, watching you with fond eyes.

[norrisainz33]

home for the holidays || ls18

☆ summary: lance and his partner start a new chapter now that the season is over and take their relationship to the next level

☆ pairing: lance stroll x nonfamous!reader

☆ fc & warnings: none

☆ requested: nope! just a short one bc i don’t see enough lance fics so wanted to write one!!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

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ynuser: and just like that - the 2024 season has come to an end. this was a tough one but no matter what i am proud of the team and proud of lance. see all you beautiful people again in march 🤍

view all 324 comments

astonmartinf1: see you soon y/n/n! we love you ❤️

ynuser: 🤍 you more admin

user1: you are so real for posting the vegas pics of lance

lance_stroll: i love you 😘

ynuser: and i love you 🥹

user4: mama y papa

user2: i’m going to miss this silly season and seeing you practically every weekend smh

francisca.cgomes: see you sooner than march please😭

ynuser: you know i can’t go more than a couple weeks without you 😔

user44: can lance fight?

scottyjames1: no

user44: SCREMING

ynuser has posted to their story

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user1: most canadian thing i’ve ever seen

lance_stroll: missed this and missed you darling

ynuser: i missed you more lance. i’m overjoyed to be back 🤍

yourbff: i’m so glad you and lancey are finally home

ynuser: me too! this season was a long one 😩

yourbff: you both are stronger than i

ynuser: i’m not sure how we made it honestly! but it’s time for new beginnings and rest 🫶🏻

user2: time for some much deserved relaxation

user6: just saw the f1 secret santa and can’t stop thinking about how good of gift giver lance is and how he probably got you the best gifts ever

fernandoalo_official: happy holidays mi amiga

ynuser: gracias nando! i hope you have the best break with all of those you love most 🤍

user3: i hope you have the best break y/n

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yourbff: i can’t wait to visit you in your new home!!!

ynuser: i can’t wait for you to visit!! one of the spare bedrooms has your name on it bestie

user11: ahhh congrats y/n!!!

carmenmundt: congrats on your and lances new home!! looking forward to visiting 😘

ynuser: thank you carmen! i miss you sm already. please come visit soon 🤍

user14: so so happy for you and lance. end game fr

lance_stroll: remind me why i thought moving right after the season ended was a good idea

ynuser: you said, and i quote, “i want to be home for the holidays and host all the people i love in our home.”

lance_stroll: well when you put it like that….

cholestroll: yayyayayay!!!!! can’t wait to see it in a few days

ynuser: can’t wait to see you and scotty and the lovely little bug soon. it’s been too long

astonmartinf1: cheers to new beginnings ✨

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chloestroll: the tree is so cuteeeeee oh i love it

lance_stroll: it is ! y/n is very excited for the holidays

chloestroll: as she should be!! do you have everything set?

lance_stroll: everything should be set up according to plan! im beyond nervous though

chloestroll: don’t be!! it’s going to alllll be ok

user3: y/n is so cute

scottyjames31: glad she’s getting you into the holiday spirit

lance_stroll: between y/n and chloe there’s more than enough holiday spirit! we’ve got hanukah and christmas covered over here

user4: pookie christmas lets goooo

ynuser: i am having the most fun decorating our new house 🫶🏻

lance_stroll: me too my love. building this life with you is everything i could ask for and more ❤️

user5: i’m glad you’re getting the time to relax lancey. you deserve it after this season

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user2: holy crap this is beautiful?????? and she managed this right after you two moved in???? get this girl an award

fernandoalo_official: looks beautiful! can’t wait to hear about how your evening goes

lance_stroll: you’ll be one of the first to know ❤️

user6: this called me broke in about 800 different languages

pierregasly: WOW! can i hire y/n to decorate my house?

lance_stroll: for a hefty price 😉

user9: you better marry this girl i s2g

ynuser: thank you 🥹 🤍😘🎄

lance_stroll: no thank YOU gorgeous! i am so thankful to have you help me host the holidays ❤️

ynuser: 😭 i love being a part of your family lance

lance_stroll: we all love you so very much ❤️

ynuser: you’re going to make me cry 🥹

chloestroll: eeeeek!!!!!! today is THE day 🤍🤍🤍🤍

lance_stroll: she doesn’t suspect a thing 😍

user12: her outfit is everything ??? literal angel

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liked by lance_stroll, iamrebeccad, fernandoalo_official, yourbff, scottyjames1, and 326,137 others

ynuser: tonight may have been the best night of my life. wishing you the happiest of holidays from the future mr and mrs stroll ❤️

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user18: this is so important to me you have no idea

chloestroll: welcome to the family sis 😘

ynuser: sis 😭 oh i love you chloe

georgerussell63: 🥹 congrats! you two make the perfect couple

ynuser: thank you georgie ❤️

fernandoalo_official: felicidades mis amigos

ynuser: gracias por todo nando 🫶🏻

user32: my mom and dad are getting married im overjoyed

lance_stroll: i can’t wait to make you my wife

ynuser: and i can’t wait for you to be my husband 😘

user23: you look so good in white

astonmartinf1: best news we’ve seen all day

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated.

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[blue-lights-to-dreams]

Golden Light // H.S.

synopsis: you go on a blind date with Harry at your best friend's insistence and enjoy it much more than you expected.

wc: 3.9k

a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this! i haven't written fic in a hot minute, so let me know what you think! this will likely have a part 2 where the exciting stuff happens, but writing even this much took me forever so i wanted to share before the Christmas mentions became irrelevant, lol!

The streets of New York City are beautiful this time of year. Christmas lights twinkle in nearly every retail storefront, some even including a dusting of ripped-up cotton balls and other snow-like materials. Just ignore the grey sludge coating the streets.

You were never one for holiday cheer, and today was no exception. Despite thinking the same of every single day, you’ve had what you would consider the longest day of your life. Your first meeting ran late by just a few minutes, but even this was enough to push your calendar so far off that you needed to reschedule your final call with the client you’d been waiting almost a month to meet with.

There was nothing more in this world you wanted to do than curl up in bed with a bottle of wine and a silk eye mask. But, here you were, trudging down the streets of New York City in your slightly uncomfortable heels, trying to dodge puddles, slush, and other mysterious substances on the sidewalk, on your way to a blind date. Emma had set you up with a friend of her boyfriend’s, and she’d made you promise you’d give him a chance.

Your last relationship had ended with a bang after you went to his apartment to surprise him after getting out of work early one afternoon, only to find him in bed with a blonde girl you never did learn the name of. 

You could easily find a man to wake up to the next morning, but after years of running your own business, it wasn’t as simple as walking into a bar to meet Mr. Right. You’d dated enough men with little ambition; you needed someone who had drive– had success.

All you knew about your date for the night was his name was Harry, he was a record executive, and, according to Emma, he was hot.

The pit in your stomach only grew as you approached Bella Napoli. It didn’t help you’d spent the last six blocks trying to lift your dress and nearly-floor-length coat high enough to keep it out of the puddles.

The little blue location dot on your maps app glided closer to the restaurant with each step you took, nearly there - mist ghosted over your nose with each exhale, doing nothing to keep it warm in the frigid weather of the city, and you couldn’t wait to get inside.

Finally, you spotted the marquee sign affixed to the small brick building half a block up, signaling the end of your journey. The glass-front double doors opened easily under your hasty pull, eager to feel the heat of the brick building’s furnace.

“Good evening, ma’am,” the hostess greeted from behind her podium. She appeared to be in her early twenties, with long blonde hair and prominent cheekbones.

“Good evening, I have a reservation under (Y/L/N),” you brushed stray snowflakes off of your wool coat. Emma had ensured she would let Harry know the reservation would be under your name, and you hoped she hadn’t forgotten.

“Ah, yes, table for two? Right this way.” The young woman stepped from behind the podium and began heading toward the main dining area. You followed her as she snaked around the tables full of affluently dressed couples and businessmen in suits, reaching a small archway leading into a more dimly-lit section of the restaurant. 

She led you to a booth in the corner with velvet seats and matching curtains, held open by small hooks on either side - out of sight from most of the other patrons in the section, who didn’t seem to be paying any mind to you anyway. A small candle sat between two menus, adjacent to a traditional silverware layout and an empty highball glass on either side of the booth.

You slid onto the bench facing the room’s entrance as the hostess filled each glass with ice water. She nodded as you thanked her and informed her a man by the name of Harry should be arriving soon to join you. Just in case Emma had forgotten.

The menu was short but obviously well-curated. The wine list was almost twice the length of the food menu - just how you liked it. You skimmed the offerings, deciding on a merlot of the second-highest price point. Your anxiety still made itself known in the way your stomach was twisting. You checked the time. It was 5:58 pm - still two minutes early. You hoped the wine would drown the butterflies (or maybe moths) in your stomach.

Your eyes returned to the restaurant’s food offerings but were again drawn upwards as another person sauntered into the secluded section of the restaurant. His pale grey, half-unbuttoned silk shirt settled just under the gold cross necklace grazing the indent between his pecs. A blazer of a much darker grey draped his shoulders, matching the straight-legged trousers just long enough to only allow the front of his patent-leather black loafers to peek out from under them. 

The air suddenly felt heavy, like you couldn’t get a breath in. Who is the lucky lady he’s here with tonight? Your eyes darted around the section, trying to find his date, but coming up empty. 

Shit, is this Harry?

Your fears are confirmed as you realize the hostess had entered the room a bit ahead of him and was leading him to your booth. The poor girl looked entirely flustered.

“Here you are, sir. Your waitress will be over shortly to grab your drink orders,” she squeaked, turning on her heels and scurrying away as quickly as possible.

You smiled at him as you shuffled out of the booth and rose to your feet, trying to seem much more confident than you were. You reached about the height of his shoulder in your heels.

“You must be (Y/N),” he spoke with a slight smile, glancing at your attire before returning his eyes to meet yours.

“That would be me. And you must be Harry.” You smiled back at him, subconsciously smoothing out the part of the dress resting on your hips.

Harry took a step toward you with arms extended, pulling you into an easy hug, His arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders and yours around his waist. He smelled like an intoxicating mix of vanilla, patchouli, and musk. Expensive. Even just brushing your fingers across his suit jacket as he pulled away, the feel of the fibers suggested it had also not been cheap.

“You look stunning. I love the color of your dress,” he complimented, pulling back slightly with his hand hovering over your waist. “It looks great on you.”

“Thank you, it was actually a gift from my mother.” Compliment-taking was not your forte.

“Well, she has great taste. Shall we?” He motioned toward the set table, waiting for you to take your seat before sliding into the bench on the opposite side. “Have you been here before?”

“I haven’t, but I’ve heard great things. Have you?” His ring-clad fingers picked up the beverage menu in front of him as you spoke.

“I have, it’s one of my favorites.” That must have been why he suggested it.

“Is the Merlot any good? That’s what I was thinking of ordering, but I’m open to suggestions.” You played with the seam of your dress under the table absentmindedly.

“Now that, I haven’t had. I’m more of a white wine guy myself. I’m a fan of the Riesling.”

“Really? My first guess would have been whiskey, honestly.” There exists a pattern in these kinds of men - they always drank some very expensive whiskey they needed to tell you all about, as if it didn’t taste like smoke-flavored lighter fluid.

“I tend to prefer a sweeter taste,” his eyebrows twitched as he raised the glass of water to his lips. You nodded before the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, taking time to browse the food menu.

It wasn’t very extensive, with a few choices to pick from each protein category. You settled on a grilled chicken tagliatelle with a cream sauce, hoping it would pair well with the wine.

“Hi, my name is Danielle and I’ll be taking care of you this evening,” a voice burst your bubble of concentration, “have we decided on what we’d like to drink?”

You recited your wine order first, with Harry following shortly after. The waitress jotted down your selections in her notepad before exiting the room with a promise to be back to take your food orders shortly.

“So, Emma said you work in marketing?” he spoke slowly. His accent was thick, only further drawing you into the conversation.

“PR, actually,” you replied, “I have my own firm, with a few employees. I love it.”

“That’s amazing,” he sounded sincere. “How long have you been in PR?”

“Almost a decade, but I’ve had the firm for a little over 3 years. At first, it was just myself operating out of my apartment, but we’ve been able to build up some clientele and move to an actual office space. Emma said you work for Atlas Sound, right?” you shifted the conversation away from yourself, curious about what exactly came with being a record executive.

“That’s right. I’m mostly in charge of production but I help out with some of the publishing aspects as well.”

“Ah, so no talent scouting? I was hoping this could be my big break…” you mused, narrowing your eyes at him. Harry chuckled, flashing the smile you’d found yourself dead set on seeing more of. 

“No, no, unfortunately, that’s not me, but I may know some people who could help. Let me guess, rap?”

You almost choked on the water you’d just taken a sip of, but managed to swallow it before the laugh burst from your throat. It caught you off guard - Harry honestly didn’t look like he would even know what rap is. A silly notion, given his career, but true anyway.

“You have a beautiful laugh,” Harry stated sincerely, and your heart just about stopped. 

Before you got the chance to respond, a full wine glass was placed in front of each of you. You hadn’t even noticed the waitress had come back. “Here are those drinks. Did we decide on what we’d like to eat? I can make some suggestions if you’re not sure what to get…”

It appeared as if she’d forgotten you were even in the room with the way she was staring directly at Harry. You couldn’t blame the girl - you’d been staring too - but she could definitely tell the two of you were on a date, so she could have at least been a little more subtle.

Harry smiled politely (and briefly) at her before turning his attention back to you to confirm you were ready to order. You both relayed your choices to the waitress, and you appreciated that Harry did not seem like he was interested in entertaining her advances.

“Anyways, where were we…” he smiled again, and your heart lurched.

Conversation flowed smoothly between the two of you, aided by the wine in your glasses. You found yourself getting less and less nervous about him not being the right fit, but more and more nervous you were somehow making a fool of yourself. 

The story of how one of your interns accidentally jammed the copier so badly you had to buy a completely new unit made Harry laugh loudly. It was one of many stories you had from your job that were definitely funnier in retrospect than they were as they happened. You were aware you’d talked a lot so far, but you couldn’t help it. The way Harry spoke was attractive, but the way he listened was even better. He seemed genuinely interested in the stories you told, maintaining eye contact, nodding in the right spots, and asking thoughtful follow-up questions. It had been a while since you’d had a date genuinely listen to you, and it was refreshing. 

He asked more about your job, and you found yourself telling him how as much as you like being “in charge” and able to have control over your firm, sometimes it was incredibly stressful, especially in emergencies. He could see the stress that followed you home every day seep back into your expression, despite you trying your best not to let it show.

His ring-clad hand slid across the table, fingers gently entwining with yours and giving them a quick squeeze.

“You know, I think you’re brave for taking that risk. You should be proud of what you’ve built.” The eye contact he made with you as he spoke was intense, with sincerity behind his words. His hand was warm, contrasting the cool feeling of the metal rings, and you subconsciously squeezed it back in an attempt to keep it where it was. Luckily, your hands stayed intertwined for another couple of minutes as you expressed your appreciation for his kindness and shifted the conversation back to his job until your food was in front of you.

The meals were delicious, just as Harry had promised. He’d ordered a mushroom risotto that looked delicious, and your pasta tasted perfect with the wine you’d chosen. Good job, self.

Soon, you found your plate nearly empty and your body warm from the alcohol. Your thoughts felt slightly fuzzy, and you caught yourself staring a little too long at the rings on Harry’s right hand, as well as the fingers adorning them. The muscles flexed as he moved his hands while speaking, and you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away. You knew how his hand felt in yours, but how would it feel touching your cheek, against your back, gripping your - 

“Did you save room for dessert? The tiramisu is incredible.” Harry’s voice broke your train of thought, and you quickly averted your eyes back to his. What seemed like a slight smirk played on his face, but you couldn’t tell if it was because he’d noticed the staring, or if the alcohol was just affecting him as well. You prayed for the latter.

“That sounds great, but I can probably only take a few bites. Would you want to share a piece?” you suggested, much too full for an entire dessert to yourself.

“I’d love to.” Harry absentmindedly tapped his fingers against the table in a rhythm you couldn’t place, not helping your attempts not to stare. “So, tell me more about that yoga class?”

The conversation flowed again, with Harry ordering dessert when the waitress stopped by. Of course, you were just as interested in his words as he was in yours, hanging on his every accented sentence. He was a captivating storyteller and his facial expressions were no different - you loved how his eyes lit up at the good parts and narrowed at the bad in the story. The slight scruff on his face complimented the way his mouth moved as it formed words, drawing you closer. How would they feel against your own lips, you wondered? 

You could hear the words he was saying, but you weren’t fully listening as he continued telling you about the time he got a little too drunk at a friend’s birthday party and ended up volunteering to give a speech he had in no way prepared for. It was a great story, very funny, but your mind was otherwise preoccupied. Wine always made you… flirty.

Soon, the tiramisu was in front of you. This, too, looked delicious - Harry was right again.

“Would you like the first bite?” He offered, picking up one of the small forks laid out on the plate and scooping a bite of the dessert onto it.

“Well, ladies first I suppose,” you joked. You parted your mouth slightly as you leaned forward, waiting for him to place the fork on your tongue. What you weren’t expecting was for his other hand to reach out and lightly grasp your jaw, thumb on your chin to hold your mouth farther open. A choked gasp escaped your lips at the same time the sweet cake hit your tongue, but you could barely taste it, too distracted by the skin contact. Again, his eyes didn’t leave yours as he allowed your mouth to close and pulled his hand away from your face.

“Well? How is it?” he asked, with a definite smirk this time. 

You tried to compose yourself before answering, swallowing the dessert and the lump that had formed in your throat. “It’s good… really good.” Your voice came out breathier than you intended, and you blinked heavily a couple of times, trying to kickstart the part of your brain that could think of anything except what you’d like to do with the gorgeous man sitting in front of you.

Harry took his own bite next, letting his eyes flutter shut as his mouth closed around the fork. His long eyelashes rested atop his strong cheekbones, the same ones you almost had to physically stop yourself from reaching over to brush your fingertips over. His lips were a stunning, dark shade of red, still slightly wet from the wine he’d been enjoying.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the bite, slightly brushing against the collar of his shirt. Seafoam green eyes made contact with yours as he opened them again, and a small smile graced his face as he realized you’d been watching him intently.

“You’re right, it is really good.” Your heart raced under the fervency of his gaze. He was staring into you like he wanted to read the thoughts echoing in your brain. “Would you like another bite?”

“Sure, but I can feed myself this one if you like,” you attempted to lighten the intense mood that had befallen your booth so you might actually be able to catch your breath,

“That won’t be necessary, I was quite enjoying myself,” Harry mused, refusing to break eye contact until you did. He scooped another bite onto the fork, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear before resuming his grip on your jaw and returning the fork to your lips. He felt your jaw flex as you chewed and swallowed the bite, but didn’t take his hand off of your face. Instead, he brought his thumb back to your lips and brushed below them gently, careful not to smudge your lipstick. 

He brought his thumb back to his mouth and slowly closed his lips around the pad of it, a half-smile tugging at his lips at your bewildered expression. “Sorry, you had a little something there. I figured I’d get it for you.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath instead of attempting to utter a response.

He took another bite himself before offering you another, which you obliged with little hesitation.

“You know, Harry, you need to be careful feeding me like this or I’ll get used to it.” Another feeble attempt to ease the tension and stop acting like a flustered teenager.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” he murmured, voice sincere and slow, laced with something that sent a shiver down your spine, “if it means I keep getting to see your cheeks flush.”

He’d noticed how your body was responding to him, whether or not you tried to hide it. Your face burned again, sinking further into the booth behind you in slight embarrassment.

“Well, it doesn’t help that I’m on a date with an attractive man who’s feeding me tiramisu. I think that’s every woman’s dream.”

“So it’s working?” His face glowed in the candlelight, a smirk on his face but a subtle vulnerability behind his eyes.

You knew what he was implying, but wanted to regain some of the power you’d lost by being so flustered. “Maybe.”

“That’s not good enough for me. I need a yes.” He needed confirmation that you were on the same page.

“And what exactly am I saying yes to?” A sip of wine ran down your throat as you awaited his response.

“To letting me walk you home after this,” Harry stated bluntly, scanning your face for your reaction. You couldn’t help the way your face flushed, but you held your composure, leaning back casually against the booth behind you as you pretended to mull it over. You already knew what you wanted.

“Alright, Harry,” you smirked, bringing the wine glass to your lips once more, “let’s see where the night takes us.”

- - - - - - - - - - 

“God, it’s freezing out here,” you groaned, dodging patches of ice. You were nearly home, your apartment building visible up the street.

Harry had grabbed your hand under the guise of keeping it warm a few minutes ago, something you were grateful for now as you gripped it tightly, trying to navigate the snow-covered ground in heels with little traction. He’d offered to call an Uber, but you wanted some more time with him without a driver listening in on your conversation.

As you approached the building, your imagination ran with thoughts of getting him upstairs, into your apartment, into your living room… 

Before you could get too far, you were at the front door. Your free hand patted over the pockets of your jacket to ensure that you had your keys and found them in your left pocket.

“I had a great time with you tonight, Y/N,” Harry turned to face you, not letting go of your hand. “I’d love to do this again, sometime, if you’d be interested.”

A slight flush now graced his face, glancing at the ground as he awaited your response.

“I had a lovely time. I’d love to see you again,” you confirmed quickly, not letting him worry for too long.

He was beaming now, allowing you to admire his prominent dimples. Your heart skipped a beat and you couldn’t help but smile right back at the sight.

“There’s that beautiful smile again,” he quipped. His free hand reached for your jaw, cradling it again as you both continued to grin at each other for a few moments. A silence fell upon you again, and Harry’s eyes searched yours for a second before flickering to your lips, which had slowly returned to a resting state. As he moved his gaze back up, your eyes gleamed with the reflections of Christmas lights and were swimming with the need for more contact with him. He inhaled slowly, nervously, before exhaling sharply. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded quickly, gripping his collar to pull him closer before his mouth met yours. Electricity sparked between the two of you, his luscious lips colliding with yours over and over again, like he couldn’t get enough of you. The kiss started slow, but quickly became deeper, more desperate, as he gripped your waist tightly and pulled you close to him. Your hands searched for solace, moving from his collar to his cheeks before lightly running through the hair at the back of his neck.

He tore his lips away from yours but didn’t stray far, pressing his forehead against yours as you both tried to catch your breath. You could see both of your small pants in the air as they fogged due to the cold. A small smile played on each of your lips, and you just knew your lipstick was half-gone because you could definitely see some of it on Harry.

“You know,” you pulled away, straightening your stance confidently, “I have a bottle of wine upstairs if you’d like to help me drink it.”

Harry grinned. “I would love to.”

[bunnis-monsters]

Hybrid Shelter Prologue

warning: mentions of abuse, injuries, some yandereish behavior, and violence

You’ve been working at the hybrid shelter for a few weeks now. It wasn’t an easy job, tending to injured, abused, and scared hybrids, but you did your best.

This was just a part time job until you were able to find something better. Of course you cared about the hybrids, but the money you made wasn’t enough.

You had two other part time jobs that took your time away, and although you loved working at the hybrid shelter, it was only a temporary thing.

Most days were full of games, movies marathons, the occasional check up, and lots of bonding. After all, the goal was to help these hybrids figure out what they wanted. If they wanted to be independent, be a pet, or return/live in the wild.

Today was a bad day, though.

You woke up at 3 am to a call, asking you to come into the shelter early.

“It’s an emergency,” your boss said, taking a moment to breathe before continuing. “A new hybrid came in… you’ll understand when you get here.”

And your boss was right, you understood the second you walked in.

In the corner of the lounge was a cat hybrid. He was backed against the wall, hissing and spitting as his tail puffed up.

“Stay away from me, don’t you dare get any closer!”

All the other workers were covered in scratches, glancing at one another in concern.

“His file,” your boss said from behind you, handing you a folder. “A tale as old as time. Human buys a cat hybrid from a backyard breeder, doesn’t know how to take care of him. The owner abused the poor thing then dropped him off at our door… he was scared and confused, and when we said his owner abandoned him…”

Your nods gestured to the cat hybrid, sighing. “This happened.”

You took a moment to read his file, frowning before you handed the folder back. “Alright, I’ll give it a try. Get a room ready in the infirmary, we’ll need to do a checkup and make sure his vaccinations are up to date.”

The cat hybrid’s ears pinned back as you approached, his tail lashing dangerously. “Don’t take another step closer, I’ll-“

His ears unfolded when you sat down a few feet away from him, giving the scared hybrid a kind smile. “Alright, I’ll stay right here then. Is that alright?”

Though his tail continued to sway erratically, the cat hybrid slowly lowered himself to the ground to match your stance.

“…”

He stayed quiet, eyeing you. All you did was sit there, watching his body language and slowly scooting closer.

“You don’t have to be afraid. I know it can be scary coming to a new place, but there’s other cat hybrids just like you here. They’re all happy, and I take care of them myself.”

He sniffed the air to confirm your words, picking up the scent of other hybrids on you. “… and… you don’t hit them?”

Those words tore at your heart, but you didn’t let it show. You kept a calm smile on your face as you nodded slowly. “No… there’s no hitting here. No punishments either.”

He hesitantly reached out a hand, placing it on your leg before pulling it back. Testing the waters was a good sign. “Will my owner come back?”

“Most likely not… and even if we did, we wouldn’t let them hurt you. Never again.”

With that, he slowly moved forward, leaning until his head rested on your lap, a sign of trust. You gently scratched behind his ears, a soft purr coming from him.

“There you go… that’s a good boy.”

Your boss watched this interaction from a distance, picking up his phone. “Yeah, I think she’s the one. I’ve never seen a hybrid calm down so quickly, she might have the thing we’ve been looking for.”

The rest of the day, the cat hybrid cling to your side, enduring the medical exam only if it meant he got to hold onto your arm.

Already he was scenting you, just like many of the other hybrids did. You were unaware how many had already put their “claim” on you, and how that would affect your future at the shelter.

Leaving wasn’t easy, the cat hybrid, who you named Midnight because of his dark hair, was attached to your hip. He cried and buried his face into your neck when you got ready to leave, only agreeing to let go of you with the promise you’d be back tomorrow.

“Mine… don’t want you to go…” he murmured, just quiet enough for you to not hear.

The next morning you woke up to a text message from your boss. Through your bleary vision you were barely able to make out what it said.

‘Dear (Name), you have been offered a chance to work as a full time employee. You’ll be paid $30 an hour, and you can start tomorrow. Please reply to confirm.’

Although you felt happy, something about the message felt off. Regardless, you needed the money and accepted immediately.

Soon your life would become hectic and full of mystery, but you wouldn’t find that out until later.

Now, you rolled back over and went to back to sleep until your shift began.

——————

Comment to be added to the Hybrid Shelter taglist. There may be some nsfw and yandere elements in the future! For now I’m using the nsfw taglist, but the next post I’ll be tagging those who comment.

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi

[cherryblossom-heart]

Responsibilities (6.5/?)

bestfriend!Nanami x Reader

Masterlist

Content warning: ANGST, Toji Fushiguro is his own warning, Kento having something with an unknown female character.

A/N: I am soooo sorry for this angst but is necesary so we understand everything that happened at the party. Don't worry, part 7 will be fully smau and its coming soon. If this is the first you see of this series please go to the previous parts to catch on. You're welcomed to send me an ask with any comments, questions, etc., you have on this. Also if I missed anyone in the taglist let me know 😊

Word count: 3.2 K

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

“Shot, shot, shot.”

A small smile spread across Kento’s lips, his eyes focused on your display. Glass after glass, you emptied all six of them in front of you with a grin on your face. The small group of people that surrounded you cheered, the echo of their acclamations competing with the bass of the tacky house party playlist Gojo had put on.

Nanami stayed by the sidelines as always, never a fan of crowds or even reunions like this one. But every rule has an exception and to Nanami’s life you were the exception for everything.

He hadn’t noticed when it had begun. Maybe it had been when you were kids, your hand covered in dirt touching his clean and polished one to drag him out to play with the other kids. Or in your teenage years, your fingers entwined with his as you dragged him to another house party he hadn’t intended to go. Perhaps it was in college when he let you sleep at his place when you had been assigned a roommate from hell and every now and then you would end up falling asleep on his shoulder as you tried to finish whatever assignments you had.

The truth was, no matter how much he tried to explain it, there wasn’t an exact logic to his actions. He hated parties but he enjoyed going with you, your carefree dancing always igniting something deep in his chest. He hated loud music, but he loved the way your eyes would close as you sang to the top of your lungs as he drove you around.

He hated immature personalities, Gojo’s antics only being tolerable for minutes. And yet he found himself amused by your quips and shenanigans you would drag him along with, his heart beating out of his chest as the mischievous grin you wore tore his defenses away.

Nanami couldn’t say when everything had begun, but he knew exactly when he first noticed it. The harsh, undeserving words that had drifted you apart for weeks had been enough of a wakeup call, the pain in his chest had left him in a panic at the moment. Once you had given him a second chance his lungs could finally take a deep breath, free from the strange constriction your apathy gave him.

He had tried getting you out of his head to the point he had downloaded a few dating apps hoping he could find someone else to occupy his thoughts. The second he had matched with someone his fingers quickly deleted the app leaving him with the realization he tried to avoid.

He was in love.

No, it was more than that. Your name was carved in his heart, his soul belonging to the set of bright eyes that laughed at his dry humor as if he was the funniest man on earth. It belonged to the smile that would always welcome him whenever he entered a room or the soft fingers that would run through his hair as his head laid on top of your lap

Nanami had never been a man to believe in soulmates, but if fate would have it and they turned out to be true he believed you were his. And not even then he could explain the extent of his emotions, the crushing weight of his love for you could simply not be measured.

Loving your best friends carried its consequences as Nanami would find out sooner than later.

Green eyes and a scar had become an instant sign of anger for him. The broad, tall, muscular man always carried his characteristic smirk, a trait that also bothered Kento to his bones. But perhaps the thing that he hated the most was the way his hands would wander along your body, fingers always finding a patch of uncovered skin where he could trace senseless figures. Your lack of a negative reaction was enough to tick him off.

He saw it the night he had ended up intoxicated and crashing at your place, the almost too insignificant glint in your eyes as you looked at the blacked haired man. Your smile was almost as bright as the one you always wore when you talked to him.

Kento hated the pit that formed in the bottom of his stomach every time you would mention him.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Beautiful, Kento’s mind recited as his eyes met yours

Your breath was raggedy, beads of sweat trailing down your cheeks. Your makeup was no longer intact, a couple of smudges trailed down your eyes, mascara specs darkening your eyes. The lipstick shade you wore was almost gone, a faint tone left behind.

“Keep your penny, it’s nothing too interesting.” Nanami’s answer came as you scooted over next to him, his right arm surrounding your frame.

“I highly doubt that. Everything about you is interesting, Nanamin.”

Kento’s breath got kicked out of his lungs. How was it possible for you to make him feel this way without even trying?

Were you aware of the effect your words, your soft touch, your sweet glances had on him?

Were you aware of his love for you?

“I believe I owe you a dance.” You extended your hand gesturing for him to take it.

“If I remember correctly, you owe me as many as I want.” Kento said, fingers entwining with yours.

You smiled, a bright beautiful smile that made his world stop.

“Well, let me start paying my debts.”

Minutes later Kento found himself in the middle of Gojo’s house, surrounded by the same crowd he had been trying to avoid as he held your body against his. You had guided him through the crowd of people, several of them stopping you along the way to congratulate you on your birthday. You would acknowledge them, perhaps exchanging a couple of words with them along the way, but your attention remained on him, your hand squeezing his every now and then to make sure he was alright.

Your hips moved to the rhythm of the music, the tune belonging to a song he hadn’t heard before, your arms were up in the air, fingers dancing along the air as if somehow you were making the most beautiful painting with them. Watching you dance was like staring at a work of art, every little movement you made was a sight to be seen.

Nanami’s body wasn’t sure how to move, his feet didn’t seem to want to follow the beat of the music, his arms felt uncomfortable as he tried to move them around. His body had begun to tense up the more he analyzed his own movements. You must’ve noticed it as well as you had stopped your movements only to get closer to him, your hand finding his again.

Cold fingeres reached to caress his face, carefully putting back in place a strand of his hair out of place. With a tenderness so foreign to him yet so familiar when it came to you, your hand cupped his cheek.

You looked at him and suddenly everything was alright.

“Relax, Kento. Just grab my hand and follow the music.”

Nanami’s left hand held onto yours while the right one fell on your waist, pushing you against his chest. If someone else would’ve seen, you two it wouldn’t have made sense to them. You two weren’t following the music, your pace not even close to what the rest of the people around were dancing to. Yet it didn’t matter, it was as if a bubble had appeared, separating you from the rest. Kento and you were following music that no one else around could hear, your head falling to his chest as the song changed.

For a moment, Nanami felt braver than ever. Maybe it was the intimacy of the moment what fueled him as he was convinced you had never looked at someone else the way you looked at him. Or maybe it was the fact that, as he pushed you closer to him, the more you seemed to nestle on his chest having caught you smelling his favorite cologne that you had gifted him.

Whatever it was, it made Kento brave enough to make you look at him. The hand that held onto yours lifted your chin, his touch leaving goose bumps on your skin. He stared into your eyes, for the first time not being shy of appreciating your beauty. Your eyes held galaxies of thoughts and emotions, and he was more than happy to explore all of them.

“Thank you for this, Ken.”

Ken.

A nickname he hated but he loved the rare times you’d say it.

He wanted you to say it forever.

“Don’t thank me, it’s the least you deserve.”

Your arms surrounded his neck.

“Be careful, Ken or I might start thinking you like me.”

Your name left his lips in a whisper, his eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes. He was surprised when he found you doing the same, your eyes lingering longer on his lips.

“Kento…” you whispered, inches away from his lips. “I— “

“Happy birthday, party girl!”

Gojo’s words rumbled across the room, bringing attention to you. Nanami’s hands fell to his side as you jumped away from him looking like a deer caught in headlights. Satoru made his way to you along with Shoko and a cake he wasn’t sure was enough for everyone in the room.

Nanami made a mental note on researching what the easiest way was to get rid of a 6’3 body.

The crowd pushed you away from him, guiding you to the table where Satoru had placed the cake. You tried talking to them, your eyes searching for his in the sea of people. When you finally found him, Nanami just gave you a small smile and a nod, gesturing you to enjoy your celebration.

You mouthed a small “I’m sorry” to him as you turned your attention to the cake.

Kento let out a sigh as he made his way back to the kitchen bar, leaning against it. A gigantic sparkling candle decorated the middle of the cake making your eyes open wide in surprise. The tune of Happy Birthday started playing, everyone around joining in the celebration making you cover your face in embarrassment.

Adorable.

“How long have you been in love with her?” A deep voice asked next to him.

Kento looked at the green-eyed man that had silently slithered his way next to him.  Fushiguro carried a solo red cup in his hand, his face still carrying that same awful smirk that irked Kento. Toji’s eyes were focused on you, but Nanami could tell his attention was on him, expecting a response.

“I– “

“Don’t try to lie, it’s written all over your face.”

Kento sighed, he was right. There was no point in lying, yet he couldn’t bring himself to say it, not to him. Not before he could tell you.

“It’s none of your business.”

Fushiguro laughed as he took another sip from his drink

“It is when you’re trying to get with my girl.”

The flames of anger began rising in Kento’s chest, a bitter taste settling in the back of his tongue.

“I believe she isn’t aware she is ‘your girl’.” He quipped. “I don’t think she wants the title, or else she wouldn’t keep insisting your relationship is casual.”

Toji’s grip tightened around his cup, the sides of it cracking slightly at the pressure. Now it was Nanami’s turn to sport that idiotic smirk.

“Well, you certainly got me there.” Fushiguro conceded. “But it has to hurt still, doesn’t it?”

“You– “

“I mean, you guys have known each other for how long? Over fifteen years and nothing has ever happened. Not a single kiss, nothing even close. I’ve known her for less than two months and I’ve already fucked her all over her apartment.”

Nanami could count with a single hand the number of times he had restored to violence; the last time he had gotten into a petty fistfight being when he was still in high school. Afterwards he would compose himself and regret his actions, embarrassed of such a public display of his anger.

None of those times Nanami had ever felt such rage, the only thing holding him back being your birthday celebration. As much as he hated the man, he would hate it even more to ruin the night for you.

“You should learn to keep your mouth shut about her private life.”

Toji snorted. “What? You’re going to play the “best friend” role again? Come in your white horse and defend her honor? Try to woo her with your gifts and hope she fucks you?”

“Better than playing the role of a man with two kids who can’t seem to find a stable relationship at his age or keep himself out of jail. Are you trying to get her to play the stepmother role as well?”

“Well, it seems that’s what gets her going, isn’t it?”

Finally, the two men faced each other, both scrutinizing each other under their gaze. Kento knew as much anger as he held inside, he could see his feelings reflected on the other man. He couldn’t blame him, any man would be lucky to get your attention, let alone a man like him.

The crowd cheering drifted away the men’s attention, your wide smile as you blew out the candles reminded Kento the reason why he was there, the flames of anger beginning to dwell as the warmth of his chest expanded through his body. He had already wasted enough time with Fushiguro.

“I don’t intend to ‘steal your girl’ Fushiguro, I cannot steal something that isn’t yours to own. She’s grown enough to know what she wants and that’s not for us to decide. Whether it is you or whoever else she is with I will always respect her choices.” Kento looked back at the man next to him, his eyes darkening with his last words. “But I will tell you that if you hurt her, I’ll make sure your stay at prison will feel like a spa visit, do I make myself clear?”

A moment went by without an answer and Kento thought the conversation was over, but as it is with a man with Toji’s personality, he always had to have the last word.

“Understood, boss.” He crashed his cup in his hands, throwing it away in the can behind the kitchen bar. “You know, I asked her once if anything had happened between you two. I mean, I had to make sure you weren’t an ex or something, especially with all the gifts and how close you guys are. You know what she said?” Kento didn’t give an answer, knowing well he was going to talk anyways. “She laughed. You should’ve seen her, it was as if I had asked the funniest question ever. I swear I saw tears in her eyes.” He chuckled. “She said there wasn’t and there never would be anything between you. That you were like the brother she didn’t have and dating you would almost feel incestuous.”

Toji’s attention went back to you, as everyone started to clear off from you as they got a slice of cake. His hand brushed his hair in place as he passed in front of Kento. “I think you have more of a shot with her.” He nodded to a girl Nanami hadn’t noticed before, her gaze turning as his hazel eyes connected with hers. Toji patted him in the shoulder before he left, not before getting his last lick. “I’d take it if I were you champ, it’s not like she’s going to care if you sleep around with other people.”

The green-eyed man made his way to you, his hand falling to your hips as he brought you in for a kiss.

For the first time in his life, Nanami felt his heart breaking. The longer your kiss lasted the more he felt a wave of unknown emotions drowning him, tearing every part of his heart that you ignited.

Fushiguro might’ve been a bastard, but he was right. There was never a time you had looked at him in any other way other than a best friend, let alone a romantic partner. He was an idiot for thinking your words meant anything, that your flirting was anything more than friendly, as it was you had always been a flirtations person. He wasn’t especial.

In an attempt of self-preservation for what remained of his heart he took a shot of vodka, hoping the burn would be enough to make him forget for a little while. He looked around the room, looking for anything that could help him, an easy way of distracting. That’s when he saw her again, the unknown girl he had never seen before.

Nanami didn’t remember how he had gotten himself in a bedroom in Gojo’s house, or when he had taken his shirt off as a girl whose name couldn’t even remember straddled him. He didn’t remember how her lips tasted or the tone of her voice as she had introduced herself to him. He couldn’t even remember the color of the girls’ eyes as she kissed him.

Her hands traveled along his body until they found his crotch making his head roll back. He allowed his hands to explore the girl’s body, slowing cupping her ass as she tried to undo his pants. This situation should’ve brought him some comfort, the sensations of every kiss, every touch should’ve been enough to help him in some capacity. Yet the only thing on his mind was you and the guilt building up in the back of his throat.

Everything about this felt wrong and he couldn’t explain why until he opened his eyes and the person in front of him wasn’t you.

Every time he kissed her, he pictured your lips, soft and delicate against his. Every time he touched her, he pictured your tender skin against his expecting the smell of your body wash to linger on his nose, instead a foreign scent invaded his nostrils. He expected to hear your voice with every pant of his name, but the unfamiliarity of the girl’s tone made his muscles tense up. This wasn’t what he wanted, he couldn’t fool himself into do it.

Then, the unthinkable happened—the very thing he had feared all along.

The light and commotion from the hallway caught his attention as he realized someone had opened the door. He pulled himself apart from the girl, moving his face to the side so he could see the uninvited guest. He only had a second to react before you shut the door with a slam, it’s echo filling the room.

He pushed her away, not caring for pleasantries as he scrambled to get his things together. He could hear the girls angry tone complaining, undoubtedly labeling him as an asshole. None of it mattered though. Not when he had seen the pain in your eyes as you saw the scene in front of you.

When he finally found his phone, he saw the plethora of messages you had sent him, all of them relating your trial until you finally found him. Before he could start typing, two new messages popped up.

Oh

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.

Vile rose to his throat as he pleaded you to come back.

It’s ok Nanami, I’ll catch you later.

Have fun

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

Taglist

@ermbehindyou @totallygyomeiswife @ash4ree @lov3vivian @namjooningera @sleepykittyenergy @silllly-jokesterr @shigarika @7haze @lizzie3d2y @jaybirdluvr73 @sweetdreams-inumimi @anuncalledbridge @troyesivanfrl @lavenderdaydream97 @n4tr3ad5 @aldebrana @erintaro @deegausserr @animemensblog @tqd4455 @jellyfishlord123

[sepdet]

Pity the fool who wasted money scraping all of Tumblr.

Discovered: December 26, 4PM MST.

I reported this to Tumblr help, but I dunno how long it'll take @staff to see it they don't have the staff to play whack-a-mole. so it's up to us.

Update Dec 27:

WHOiS turned up CloudFlare as their webhost, but that's just a domain name registar. (It's more complicated than that, but nevermind.) Today, I received a reply from Cloudflare giving me Tumgik's real host & contact info (abuse@digitalocean.com).

Update Dec 28:

Some folks in replies are finding their blogs on tumbex.com instead. I found their host is ovh.com, no cloudflare to hide behind this time. Here's their abuse report form.

Here's What To Do:

Put your blog url into Google search and see if a non-tumblr.com version comes up.

If it doesn't, go back to what you were doing. Otherwise:

If it's Tumbjk, File a DMCA notice with abuse@digitalocean.com.

If it's Tumbex, File a DMCA notice with ovhost.

If it's a different URL, plug it into WhoIsLookup at myip.ms to identify the Web Host, then go to that host's URL and look for a "Report Abuse" "File DMCA" or "Support" link, usually in the footer.

If the Web Host shows as Cloudflare, docontact them, but check your emall after a day. They'll usually tell you the real webhost if your abuse report looks legit.

Report the scraped site to Google. If Google removes it from search results, that kills most of its traffic

Share this post.

When reporting abuse, (a) list the URLs of the copycat (b) list the corresponding URLs to your real blog(s). If there's a box asking for more explanation, try something like "they scraped pages from tumblr'" and/or "these are my personal blogs hosted on the tumblr platform which I started in (year xxxx)].

It doesn't have to be much. The webhost just needs to verify one site is copying the other, which came first, and who is the probable owner— which the thieves admit they aren't, since their "About" page admits they're reposting stuff from Tumblr.

Fly, my pretties, fly!

[chaoticwriting]

Gotham New Rogue 2

It's been a few weeks since Danny started to become the Trickster. To be honest, it is working very well. His core is expanding fast as ectoplasm is regenerating faster than ever before. He is also slowly developing new abilities and gaining more control and powers to his already established abilities.

For instance, Danny used to struggle making clones, but now he can easily create dozens of them with just a thought. He can also change his clothes to whatever he imagines using ectoplasm now. His ice power is also stronger and easier to control. His superhuman body is developing and slowly getting stronger and faster.

Overall, Danny will say that make a smart decision to become a rogue especially since no one has caught him yet. Danny is currently laying on top of a building watching the sun slowly set in the horizon. His stomach suddenly grumbles and he decides to hit the shack before he gets to "work" tonight.

Jumping off the roof, Danny lands and walks to the nearest Batburger while still wearing his rogue suit. He has a totally funny idea today and it involves him being seen in public. Entering the Batburger is like entering a library for some reason. As soon as he enters, everyone goes deathly quiet.

Danny slowly walks towards the cashier and orders his food.

Danny: 5 sets of set C please.

Cashier: Ermm, that will be 60 bucks.

Danny: Here.

After paying for the food, Danny gets his food and sits at one of the tables alone. It's only after he is through his 3rd set that reality is set in for the people. They begin to move and contrary to Danny's expectations, approach him to ask for pictures. Danny allows them some pictures and unknowingly raises his status as Gotham's friendliest rogue.

Suddenly, a white man that screams rich guy, a woman with blonde hair and a black guy wearing Signal's merch approach him. Danny has learned a lot of things from his 14 years of life and 2 years of half life and Danny knows when a rich guy approaches you, it's never good (Sam doesn't have the rich vibe).

Rich guy: Hello Trickster! May we have a meal with you?

Danny: Sure.

Rich guy: Ah, how rude of me. My name is Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. These two are my friends, Stephanie Brown and Duke Thomas. You can call me Tim by the way.

Danny: Sure, Tim.

They sit opposite him with their meals and try to make small talks with him while eating. The trio realize that Danny seems to respond a lot better when Steph or Duke is the one to ask the question.

Steph: So, Trickster. Why don't you like my friend here?

Duke: Way to go in being subtle, Steph. Why not ask who is he really next?

Steph: Hey, I can't help it you know. He seems so snarky whenever Tim asks questions. I wanna know if Tim pissed him off or something.

Danny: He is rich, right?

Duke: Err, yes?

Steph: Let's say he is. Why does that matter?

Danny: I hate rich people. And government. But who doesn't hate the government?

Duke: So, eat the rich?

Danny: Yes.

Steph: Cool cool. We are also here just so we could leech him off anyway. We're not really friends.

Tim: Ow, you hurt me by saying that. What happened to our vow of eternal friendships?

Steph: I cross my fingers.

Duke: I lie.

Danny: Hahahaha. You're like my friends.

Tim: You have friends?

Danny: Of course I have friends. And unlike you I don't need money to have friends.

Tim: Sorry sorry. Are your friends also rouges?

Danny: Wouldn't you like to know? Last I need is Batman investigating my friends. I'm sure Batman is part of you rich people group chat or something.

Steph and Duke: *Snickers*

Tim: *Glares at the two* Why would you think Batman is in contact with the rich people?

Danny: Isn't it obvious? Batman has all these high tech gadgets and is always there fast whenever a Wayne is kidnapped. I would even say Batman is being sponsored by the Wayne.

Danny: I also don't like most heroes in general. They are just the government lapdog doing whatever the government wants.

Tim, Steph and Duke frowned at that statement. From the way Danny speaks, it is clear that he has some history against the government. Him being here also means he is at least confident enough to run away if any of the bats are here. Is it just blind confidence or a truly competent ability will remain to be seen.

Tim is just about to refute him when Danny suddenly stands up. All of them tensed up and ready for battle when Danny turns towards one side of the window, waves and disappears right in front of them. They are very confused and when they turn towards the direction Danny was just looking at, they see Batman and Black Bat right on the rooftop across the building.

Batman and Tim nod to each other and they all return to the caves.

-Batcave-

Tim: So you all hear the conversation right?

Dick: Except at the end where the sound becomes blurred for a moment, we hear everything.

Tim: Good. So what are your thoughts on this?

Damian: It is pretty self explanatory Drake. He has a personal hatred towards the government and that extends to all bodies of government or people he thought is connected to the government.

Tim: But why though? Is the hatred towards the government something as simple because he is a criminal? Or is there something else towards it?

Bruce: There is nothing to find about him currently with our limited resources about him. Return to the manor for today and take some rest. We will investigate it later.

All of them return to the manor and rest for the night.

-2 weeks later-

The Trickster is standing in front of an unconscious and tied up Batman. He is giggling loudly that evolves into full blown laughter.

He takes off Batman's belt and starts to pull out stuff one after another. Soon, he found the item that he needed.

Trickster: Hahahahahahaha. I have finally got it. The strongest weapon in the world!

The batfam that is watching the live broadcast shiver as they watch Trickster holds out the black object high in the sky.

[regthomas1728]

Bare with me, I’m gonna actually try writing…(written on my phone, sorry for mistakes)

***

Your humble sandwich shack was recently upgraded to a small hovel. You now do specialized drinks and sandwiches.

Of course, you also had to get better insurance when you moved into the rent to own two story building in the city.

Not just any insurance! You needed insurance to cover hero and villain damage. You live in the city that birthed the greatest heroes and deadliest villains. While the chance of being murdered is extremely low, the chances of losing a house or building due to the fights were incredibly high.

High enough, insurance companies decided to make a pretty penny on all the people of the city.

You owned a small business that was rapidly gaining popularity. To keep up with demand, you decided to capitalize on the idea of heroes and villains. You began catering to tourists and eventually became one of the reason people visited the big city.

You began naming items on your list after heroes. Sandwiches and drinks alike had catchy names such as “Spexpresso” in reference to the fastest hero and the fastest acting coffee any coffee addicts have had or the brisket sandwich called “Smoked Pixet” named after the fairy hero named Pixie.

You thought it was funny, some of the customers thought it was creative, but the real fun came in the drawn cartoons merging the heroes with their respective menu item.

You bought a couple tv’s to showcase any submitted art and attention for your sandwich joint grew.

It wasn’t until the second hero stopped in, in their hero getup, and ordered their sandwich that you realized you were at the top.

Hey! The first one might have been a fluke or an accident.

Maybe you fumbled over your words but everyone was star struck.

“Good sandwich, I’ll have to get Euro in to try the gyro.” The hero chuckled on his way out, taking another big bite of his sandwich.

The customers and you let out a big sigh—you hadn’t even realize you were holding your breath—and then the little caf filled with laughter. It didn’t die down for a week—your caf was expanding and it took so much out of you until you hired three more people. All three workers were college students and you hired them within two weeks of the second heroes visit.

A few months later, your menu had changed greatly as new heroes wanted a spot on the menu and heroes already on the menu wanted to change certain ingredients.

You catered to a fee and stood your ground with most. The heroes respected you more for that as did the customers. You still made their sandwiches the way they preferred when they came in.

It was crazy for you to think about. You knew the orders of some of the most popular heroes and they came at regular intervals to get their lunch or dinner.

Marketing heard about your setup and chose to setup times where heroes would take photos with fans. You were gaining publicity and hero agencies were jumping on the band wagon.

You politely declined interviews or let your employees sub in. You weren’t someone who liked to be on camera and even the smooth talking lava rock hero couldn’t make you budge.

He did enjoy the spicy sandwich you made in his honor.

After all the humbug settled, you found a steady rhythm. But, all good things must come to an end.

After closing shop at 10:00pm, you were on your way to the car when you heard a voice call out to you from across the lot.

You turned at the sound, startled and trying to remain calm. Just because murders didn’t happen often didn’t mean they never happened. You were desperate not to be in the three percent.

“Why haven’t you made sandwiches for villains?”

“What?”

“Villains eat to, ya know?”

Not that you hadn’t thought of it but you didn’t think it’s go over very well. Not with heroes frequenting your place.

“I’m not too sure that’s a good idea. I don’t need heroes and villains fighting at my restaurant. I have insurance but it could never be that good.”

The man stepped out of the shadows and you realized you just told the most wanted villain no.

“Work on those sandwiches and I’ll work on a compromise.”

“You sure? I could just make you a sandwich under the table…? You could stop out back and grab it to go?”

The villain, covered in shadows and red (was that blood?), shook his head and took a step back.

“No. Put our sandwiches on the menu after a weeks time.”

“It’ll take longer than that to establish a villains menu and a good advertising strategy.”

“Well…I’ll have the hero and villain compromise figured out by then. The timeline isn’t up to you. I look forward to your work.”

“You’re not going to kill me if you don’t like the sandwich, are you?”

With shadows covering his exit, all you heard was an evil laugh that reminded you despite his absurd request, he was still a villain who made up one or two percent of the kills in the city over the last ten years. Okay…maybe not that many but you knew it was a lot! You just didn’t know ALL the statistics regarding heroes and villains.

While a normal person may have brought the conversation up to one of the many visiting heroes or maybe called the police, you brought out your folder of dreams and got to work on sandwich ideas.

And sure, you told the shadow villain that it would take more than a week to get started on this idea but you may have lied. It would take no time to start the menu—no the real issue was convincing civilians and heroes to accept a few changes.

One of the changes would be making a seasonal menu. Which would not correlate with actual seasons but rather about keeping scores between favorites sandwiches and drinks.

The advertising took some time and planning, you only had a rough outline of what that would look like.

By the end of the week, you were positive you’d be getting another visit from the shadow villain but it wasn’t him who called out to you in a parking lot. It was the number one hero.

“Y/n. I’ve heard a lot about you and your sandwich shop.”

“But you haven’t tried anything? That’s a real shame.” You smiled, turning your key into the car and starting the heat. You sat in the seat with your hands in your pockets and the door open. The hero walked a bit closer but kept a respectable distance.

“I heard you got a visit a week ago from…a mutual acquaintance.”

You frowned, your brow crinkling.

“I think? I think I know who you’re talking about.”

“Do you get so many visits from villains?” There seemed to be genuine concern in the pull of his smile. “He’s requesting your restaurant be made neutral territory. No arrests, no fights.”

“Sounds like an ideal insurance policy.”

The hero grimaced but nodded.

“I’ve agreed. I’m sure it wont be much use but I’ll ask anyway. One, is he pressuring you?”

“Not really. I’ve had the idea in mind for a while.”

“I thought so. So, is there any chance you tell me who he is?”

“I don’t know him. But even if I did, I wouldn’t put myself in the middle of the most powerful villain and every hero and hero agency. I’m powerless not stupid.”

The hero seemed surprised by your response but quickly covered it with a small smile.

“Right. Well, if you need help or if any of the villains try anything, I’d feel a lot better if you had this.”

He took a step forward and held his hands out, dropping a small device in your open palm.

“If you press that button, it’ll call me directly. You don’t have to say anything when it calls—very few people have it and know to only use it in an emergency. I’ll come running.”

“Flying.” You correct lightly with a soft smile.

“Flying.”

Business returned to normal and within a month you were preparing the advertisements and informing your regular customers of the upcoming menu additions and changes.

Heroes were a bit distant at first, not excited about the change, but the number one hero quickly helped with the transition by becoming a regular customer. He visited and chatted with you every Friday.

Villains, on the other hand, were much quicker to visit and test the boundaries set by both heroes and villains.

Just when you’d had enough, the shadow villain you hadn’t seen since the night he proposed the new menu showed up.

“I believe I made myself clear! Neutral territory. No stake outs, only steak cuts!”

That earned a laugh from you, nervous chuckles from civilian patrons, and an earnest smile from a couple heroes.

“I’ll have a conversation with you after your shift. I shouldn’t have had to find out from that snotty number one hero that you were having difficulties with my crew.”

“Don’t you threaten me, Shadows.”

“Shadows?”

“I don’t know your name, sorry.”

“I’m literally the number one villain. I have a reputation that exceeds me. I’m a symbol!”

“Bit egotistical, don’t ya think?”

Luckily, he was in a playful enough mood to see the joke for what it was.

“Perhaps. I’ll take the sandwich you have undoubtedly made after me. I’m surprised I haven’t seen it in the advertisements.”

“I wanted to wait until you had tried it.”

“Naturally. Only you would make a guinea pig of me.”

You took fifteen minutes to make his sandwich and his sidekicks drink. You brought it out, a breath nestled deep in your chest clawing out but unable to until he stamped his approval on the sandwich you made with him in mind.

“How is it?” The number one hero stood directly behind the most wanted villain with a bright smile on his face.

With his mouth full, the villain rearranged it into his cheek to say: “Give me a second to savor it.”

The hero looked down, his hands on his hips as he awaited the answer you were eagerly shaking for. You were jumping with excitement as he took another bite.

“It’s a winner!!” You did a little happy dance and the few people watching cheered with you, grinning almost as madly as you were. Almost.

“Yeah, it’s pretty good. I’ll give you that. I’m not a pickle person, though.”

“I’ll tell you like I’ve told everyone else! That is a damn good sandwich and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna change it because of personal preference.”

The cheers died down, the hero shifted his weight from his front foot to his back, subtly getting in a defensive position.

“Fair enough.”

“I’ll still make you a sandwich without pickles but that’s the one going on the menu. Glad you like it.”

The villain walked out with a small smile that disappeared into the shadows along with him. That grin was the last thing you saw of him.

“I’ve never seen anyone talk to him like that.” The hero spoke with note of admiration and shock, eyebrows nearly to his forehead.

“I won’t back down to anyone.”

“I suppose that’s a good trait to have. Almost gave me a heart attack but, a good trait nevertheless.”

He ordered the same sandwich and complimented you with a wink.

“When do I get a sandwich?”

You own a sandwich shop in the heart of a superhero city. After gaining customers by making sandwiches based on heroes, you decided to try making some based on villains. Today, a villain stopped to review theirs.

[idontcaboose]

Luthor's Cricket

Part 1

Master post

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Lex asked for the nth time.

“Of course it will.” Said the cloaked figure.

Lex wasn't sure why the magic user bothered with the cloak, he had hired him by name after all. 

Gray Warden: 36 years old. Promotes himself as a psychopomp/medium that had pretty good reviews. 

Even from other magic users. Some of his other contacts confirmed that, while not strong in physical/destructive magic, he was an above average medium. His ability to summon spirits and other supernatural beings could be trusted, what he summoned was another story. 

Gray's usual clientele were people grieving loved ones, and the occasional ‘ghost hunter’ looking to ‘prove’ their existence. While not his main job, he did make a pretty penny off of the medium business. It didn't take much for Lex to hire him for a summoning, just a sob story about summoning a spirit to ‘help’ him ‘be better’ and a few thousand dollars. Lex knew most people would expect that would mean to have him act more like the utter buffoon Bruce Wayne, but really, he just wants to be better than Superman. 

Lex waited for Gray to get done drawing a circle on the wood table he had Lex provide and other “Spell components” he said. 

A solid wood table made from oak, ash, or thorne. Preferably oak and/or ash since this is a spirit for healing and new beginnings. When asked about the thorne wood, Gray blushed a bit and asked if he wished to Marry the spirit? Lex stopped asking questions after that. 

The highest quality of chalk available.

Stones of the birth month of Lex himself. When told it was a Sapphire, Gray got excited since that is apparently the perfect stone to summon a helpful spirit with.

And lastly, an object of Lex's choosing to help find the perfect spirit to ‘help’ Lex

Gray assured Lex that the spirit could not affect the world around them other than be heard and seen by those who called upon them. Once all of the preparations were complete Lex was beckoned over.

“So, to complete this ritual you will place your object in the center, with A Drop of your blood. Not two, not three, One. It is not enough to bind, but enough to identify. You will place your hand here, and here” Gray gestures to two symbols on one side of the table. “I will be powering these two symbols, and will call upon a spirit to show itself.

I will be very clear before we start. This is the first time I have done this ritual. I have seen it done twice by my mentor. I do not know exactly what will accept the summoning, but I have placed wards to keep malicious entities from hearing the call. Do you still wish to continue?” Gray asked.

Lex scoffed and placed a baseball sized chunk of Kryptonite on the table. “Let's see who we get.”

Within moments Gray was calling to the otherside, asking for a spirit to answer their call.

“Bro, did you seriously do the equivalent of pspssps'ing a Ghost over with candy?”

There were very few things that could make Lex blue screen. Watching a teenager floating lazily while licking the Kryptonite was one such thing. He had white hair, eyes as green as the rock he was nibbling on, and wearing a black and white suit that reminded Lex of the one the Flash wears.

Gray, apparently, took exception to that. “Excuse me? I don't just call spirits like stray cats!”

“My dude, you were just lacking a windowless van, you did give me free candy after all.” the kid pointed at Gray with the Kryptonite. 

“It's not candy, it's Kryptonite, and we summoned you to help me be better.” Lex stated. 

“Did you seriously summon me to be your Jiminy Cricket? Sure, I got time to waste.” The kid laughed. 

At those words a strange light linked from the kids chest to Lex's chest, glowing gold and toxic green. 

“What the fudg-”

“Lex!”

“Cancel the sum-”

Next

Tags

@dcxdpdabbles for their wonderful prompt/own story Linked Here