#or really it's that i don't know how to do it
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rosieparker1856 · 2 days ago
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This has been spoken so many times, but it has never felt so true as this. You’ve encompassed the feeling so wholly! Thank you for understanding!
Do you ever start writing something that you’re excited about and that seems like it’s turning out well and that you’re getting eager to share, and then you start typing it up or doing an edit pass and it’s just awful it’s awful its premise is fundamentally flawed and it’s out of character and the prose is clunky and the plot is badly paced and ludicrous and the whole thing is embarrassing, how could you have done this, how could you have sunk so much time into this, you can’t even look at it, how is this that shining thing you were so excited about, how could you even have considered finishing it let alone sharing it with anyone, you’re crying, your mother is crying, nuns are spontaneously exploding in the streets,
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lilhawkeye3 · 3 days ago
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A Crash Course to Kendrick's Super Bowl Performance, from a Black Woman
Note: this does NOT go in depth into all of the song's lyrics. I don't have time to recount two decades of his discography. This is just a summary of the performance itself.
Let's start with the first visual we get:
UNCLE SAM - most notably recognized from WWII American wartime propaganda, Uncle Sam is the personification of American patriotism and freedom. The term "uncle" is also evocative of Uncle Tom from Uncle Tom's Cabin, an abolitionist book that aided in inciting the Civil War. Uncle is also a very common term (both endearment and derogatory) towards Black men (eg. "unc"). Samuel L Jackson was fantastic.
Uncle Sam also resembles a circus ringleader, notable for my next point:
THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME - no, not Super Bowl. The GAG is us the people being pitted against each other: through late-stage capitalism, through the culture war, through class warfare, through being built of the backs of slaves. We are all players in the GAG because none of us on this site were the oligarchs seated at the inauguration.
This is also seen as Kendrick's stage was a Play Station controller. Not only did it remind of circus rings visually, but it was a game battle stage. The Great American Game is a battle royale of the commoners for the amusement of the rich whites.
Remember the foods / Them color was tin and brown / But now they 100 and blue - For this I'll just say, look what the last election said about lowering the price of eggs... and look at the prices now.
The revolution about to be televised / You picked the right time / But the wrong guy - Election 2024 once more. *Edit to add, the first part of this lyric is in reference to the Black Liberation Song "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised" by Gil Scott-Heron. Thanks to everyone who mentioned that.
THE FLAG DANCERS - yes, the dancers formed the US flag... off of the backs of Black people. Not a single white person in sight, and that's true of the cotton pickers in the fields. Plantations are part of how the US came to economic prominence after being a "backwater" colony. Remember tobacco? Cotton? Our bloodlines do. *Edit to add: they also all piled out of a clown car. The US flag in a clown car? Brilliant.
The red and blue dancers are also notable for representing the Crips and Bloods, two infamous street gangs. The dance in Not Like Us is the Crip Walk. I recommend researching more on your own time about them, but just know they are a large part of the stereotype of Black people being "ghetto."
TOO LOUD, TOO RECKLESS, TOO GHETTO. Do you really know how to play the game? - This is exactly what Black people, especially Black men, get told all the time. It's why we change our names on resumes if they sound "too Black." It's why we codeswitch in non-Black company. This is especially rich considering how non-Black people love our culture and love to make money off of us, as the latter part of the quote points to. And it's even more profound during the Super Bowl-- the NFL is majority Black players.
STREET LIGHT A CAPELLA -- "thug" stereotype dancers to counteract the a capella connotations, with Uncle Sam then saying that Kendrick figured out "bringing other street guys around being a culture cheat code." Yes, this is a direct hit at Drake (listen to "Not Like Us") but also politically. Look up "model minority". Notably I would point to Candace Owens, or the Miami Venezuelan political group that's been in the news recently, especially as this directly led to Kendrick being surrounded by...
DANCERS IN WHITE -- it's white America. That's... that's the allegory.
NOT LIKE US TEASER -- Kendrick says "Not Like Us" is "their favorite song." -> he means white people specifically here. It comes after he's surrounded by all white dancers, the women around him who are his call and response are also in white (my opinion, they represent the industry). He's saying "Not Like Us" is the favorite of yts because it is about BLACK MEN FIGHTING. This again is reflected in the video game stage and ringleader Uncle Sam.
SZA -- instead of giving what they want, we see SZA. She's one of Drake's exes and Kendrick has always supported her.
ALL THE STARS -- This was in the first Black Panther movie, which I recommend you watch. Rest in Power Chadwick. Notably, this movie was incredibly mainstream as a major Marvel movie, and then we have Uncle Sam say...
"THAT'S WHAT AMERICA WANTS: NICE AND CALM. DON'T MESS THIS UP" -- translation: Marvel (the industry, America, etc.) wanted a safe, semi-pop song because white American likes safe pop songs, not Kendrick's usual heavy rap style about his life as a Black man! Don't mess up what you've got going mainstream for having this "Black rap feud" with Drake, who is an R&B model minority to white people because he's safe.
So what does Kendrick say?
IT'S A CULTURAL DIVIDE / IMMA GET IT ON THE FLOOR -- He was warned not to be political or apologetically Black for this Super Bowl performance, but he is using this big stage opportunity to speak out.
40 ACRES AND A MULE / THIS IS BIGGER THAN THE MUSIC -- 40 acres and a mule are what the freed slaves were promised. Instead, this land went to white sharecroppers. Research Jim Crow laws.
THEY TRIED TO RIG THE GAME / BUT YOU CAN'T FAKE INFLUENCE -- rig the election, rig the industry like with model minority Drake, rig the Great American Game with culture war to distract from active class warfare.
NOT LIKE US -- the only thing I'll mention because it made me holler is Serena Williams crip walking on Drake's metaphorical grave. She's another one of his exes.
TURN THE TV OFF -- exactly like he said! The TV is a distraction, the Super Bowl is a distraction, the mainstream news is often a distraction. Turn it off and get with your people!
GAME OVER — could not see this on my stream but at the end of the performance, the lights in the stadium spelled this out. The world is watching, America…
In conclusion, Kendrick Lamar is a visionary and thank you for coming to my TED Talk.
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headspace-hotel · 3 days ago
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This year has, so far, been for me a series of rapid realizations of what I have been unlearning.
I went to the library. This was a couple weeks ago. I knew I needed to read a book, fiction. I hadn't done so in over a year and it was the longest period of time I had ever gone without doing so. I made a rule: I would only pick books I had never heard of, by authors I had never heard of, and I would not do any preliminary research or even bother to look at what the book was about. I would make my decision on whether to read or not purely on my impression of the title, cover and opening lines.
The book was The Connoisseur by Evan S. Connell. It was kind of a random selection. I sat down with it in a corner of the library and straight up devoured it. I tore through the book within a few hours, without taking a single break. I was captivated. I couldn't put it down.
It is a book about a guy who buys a Mayan figurine in a knickknack shop while he's on a business trip. and becomes obsessed with pre-Columbian sculptural art. There isn't really much of a plot apart from this. He goes to sketchy antique shows, has conversations with museum curators, wealthy art dealers and forgers, and seeks to learn how to distinguish a genuine pre-Columbian piece from a fake one. It was written in the 1970's, so the views on Native Americans are antiquated and sometimes offensive, and there is the troubling thread of the very concept of looting another culture's treasures and treating them as collectibles, though the book is not without commentary on this.
All the same, it was a completely intoxicating read. The vicarious experience of becoming fascinated with a topic and having it unfold a whole world for you was ferociously gripping, and so was the intrigue of the art collecting world itself. The frauds, forgeries, smuggling, museums, academics, aristocrats, auctions and seedy flea markets. Will he ever be able to tell if a piece is "real?" Does it matter if it's "real?" Why does he want to own and possess a piece of art, and how does its "realness" affect that desire? The book leaves you not knowing what to think.
It is a book about curiosity, portrayed in the narrative as a totally unreasonable lightning bolt that strikes a man who has never been fascinated by anything and changes him forever. Why? Why does a Mayan figurine, in particular, speak to him? Why does any piece of art, or any fascinating thing in the world, speak to anyone? It is unknowable.
I went to the library again. I picked a new book using the same rules. This book was Fragile Beasts by Tawni O'Dell. Just like the last time, I was totally captivated. I couldn't put it down.
Did I have a couple major problems with the portrayal of some important aspects of the story? Yes. (It would make the post much longer to discuss.) Was I completely captured by and invested in the story for the time I was reading it? Also yes. The book braids together several very different strands-- the story of a legendary Spanish bullfighter and a wealthy American woman that he loved, two brothers stuck in an ugly family situation after their father's death in a car accident, and a rich old heir to a Pennsylvania coal mining fortune and to the sinister underbelly of her family's business.
There was a lot about baseball, which I know nothing about, and bullfighting, which I know nothing about, and I certainly don't know anything about being a teenaged boy who resents and mistrusts his estranged mother, or an aristocratic old lady who lives in a mansion and eats fancy Spanish food. It was fun to experience so much unfamiliar stuff and to care about things I wouldn't normally care about. Once again I couldn't stop reading until I had finished it.
I don't know that either book was "good," though I thought they were both well written; I just know that reading them was like being hooked up to an IV of something essential and life-giving and feeling it reanimating my body.
It had been a year since I had read any fiction, but it had been much, much longer since I had loved to read. As I became an adult I had become picky and critical about books, and developed a highly sophisticated sense of my taste and the books I considered good- which were very rare. My taste in books became so sophisticated, eventually, that I didn't like books at all anymore.
I had almost withered away from deficiency of that essential nutrient known as STORY. I'd almost crumbled myself into dust from pretentiousness! I may have been terribly wrong about the kinds of things I liked to read, on top of it. And I certainly hadn't realized that story was such an essential nutrient.
"Just entertainment" the pretentious sorts of people might say of a book they think is useless-- but what is entertainment but to absorb your mind in something, and what is absorbing your mind in a book but to experience things you would never have experienced? It expands you and makes you more complicated. It is the study of human existence itself.
Now all I have been able to think about today is finishing my work and going to the library again...
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enhani-ki · 2 days ago
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fuckboy!ni-ki x reader part ll ᡣ𐭩。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
warnings: smut, nsfw, bullying, cursing, etc.
read part one here
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✶ fuckboy!ni-ki likes to give you gifts or something matching with him.
he loves spoiling you. small gifts, some things to match with him, or just something that made people notice you were his.
"are you really giving me this?" you asked, twisting the shining ring on your finger while lying on ni-ki's chest.
he pressed a quick kiss to your temple. "you don't like it?" he asked, a bit worried.
"i love it." you admitted, admiring how it caught the light. "i just look like i'm married." you laughed, holding up your hand next to his.
ni-ki grabbed your hand, flipping it over in his palm. "you're so small." he said, resisting the urge to squeeze just to see how fragile you felt. "love you." he kissed the back of your hand, his lips stayed there for a second longer than usual.
you smiled, heart fluttering... until he suddenly pressed your hand against his bulge.
"ahhh!" you yelped, pulling your hand back as he burst into laughter.
you shot him a glare but still couldn't help the small smile forming at your lips.
your boyfriend is so naughty.
ni-ki smirked. "so what if it makes you look like you're married?"
you sat up, crossing your arms. "i'm literally (your age)."
he raised his eyebrows as if to say, so? and?
rolling your eyes, you leaned in and gave him a quick kiss.
sweet, generous, handsome… how did you get so lucky?
✶ fuckboy!ni-ki's girlfriend is being bullied.
the closer you got to ni-ki, the more others began to notice and... not all of the attention was positive.
it started small, just a comment here or a whisper there. few student would tease you, asking if you did some witchcraft, wondering aloud what someone like him saw in you.
it was easy to brush off and laugh it away with ni-ki by your side. girls rolled their eyes whenever you passed by, loudly commenting on how "desperate" you looked or how "out of his league" you were.
in class, notes with cruel messages were left on your desk, scribbled in handwriting you don't recognize. during lunch, someone will "accidentally" spill their drink to you and liquid will come splashing onto your bag.
you tried to hide how much it got to you but ni-ki wasn't stupid. he noticed the way you slightly flinch when someone laughed a little too loudly behind you or the forced smile you gave when you claimed you were fine.
one afternoon, as the two of you walked home, he finally brought it up. "baby, they're just jealous, you know?" he said casually wrapping his arms on your shoulders, hugging you from behind.
you removed his arm, trying to play dumb. "w- who?"
he stopped and turned to face you. "you know who. those idiots at school." his tone was calm but there was a slight of irritation in his voice.
you sighed, looking down at your feet. "it's not a big deal, ni-ki. i can handle it."
he frowned, taking a step closer. "you shouldn't have to. tell me who it is."
everyone.
you looked up at him, surprised by the seriousness in his tone. "i said it’s fine..."
"it's not, though." he replied. "just… don’t hide it from me, okay? if it gets worse, you have tell me right away."
you nodded reluctantly.
"i have to admit something though..."
you looked at him. "what's that?"
ni-ki sighed. "the girl behind us..." he paused. "be- before we got close, she liked me. but i didn't like her back, but i guess i… led her on a little."
you narrowed your eyes and ni-ki panicked. "we didn't do anything! i promise." he smiled and chuckled nervously. "i didn't realize how serious she was until it was too late, i guess."
you sighed and wrapping your arms on his waist. "thanks for letting me know and it's okay, i love you."
ni-ki cupped your face before kissing you. "i love you, too."
the bullying didn't stop and to your dismay, it started affecting ni-ki too. it wasn't obvious before, just small petty things but soon you started noticing it too. people would switch his test papers, putting nonsense answers and making it seem like he hadn't done his work.
you even saw it happen during a class one day. someone snickered as they slid his paper to the bottom of the pile, replacing it with a blank sheet. your heart sank when the teacher handed it back, a bold zero marked at the top.
ni-ki didn't seem fazed, though. he calmly explained the situation, the teachers believed him of course and gave him another chance to take the tests.
he also had some people investigated, he got some help collecting evidence to prove what they're doing and make them take accountability for their actions.
honestly, he wouldn't care at all. but he has you now and he won't let you get hurt even more just because of him.
such a cool guy.
✶ fuckboy!ni-ki loves your mouth.
it was obvious in the way his eyes stared at it whenever you spoke, how he'd watch your lips move like he was barely listening to a word you were saying.
"you talk too much," he said, thumb tracing your lower lip as he leaned in.
you rolled your eyes. "then stop making me talk."
he chuckled, thumb slipping into your mouth just enough to press against your tongue. "what if i just keep your mouth busy instead?"
he loved teasing you. pulling your lip between his teeth, running his thumb across it, and watch you get flustered.
he'd stare whenever you absentmindedly bit your lip, waiting for the moment you noticed him watching.
the way he reacted when you licked something off your fingers?
"you're doing that on purpose, aren't you" his voice was always rougher then, his eyes locked on your lips like he was seconds away from losing control.
you smirked. "doing what?"
it doesn't matter if you were just eating ice cream, drinking from a straw, or just licking your lips because they were dry... he'd make it a thing.
he devoured your lips, pressing hard, stealing every little sound you made. his hands always found your jaw, keeping you still, deepening the kiss like he needed to 'cause he's been starving for you.
then he would pull back to admire the way your lips were swollen, glossy from his kisses, "so pretty," he whispered, "i think i'll keep going."
ni-ki never wants to let it stay innocent.
he groaned, voice rough. "fuck, baby… i just wanna put it in your mouth."
you couldn't help the blush creeping onto your cheeks, feeling him already hard beneath his pants.
"tsk, you're so impatient." you teased, slowly unzipping his jeans. "don't you want to watch the rest of the movie first?"
"no... fuck that movie." he panted, his fingers tucking the strands of your hair behind your ears.
he needs that pretty mouth on his cock like, right now.
chuckling, you pulled out his generous length, ni-ki watched you spit out your saliva, where it dripped down on his cock, you gave it a long, slow lick from base to tip.
he hissed, head falling back against the couch.
you didn't even know how to give blowjobs before, you just took your time experimenting until he says "just like that" and now suddenly you just might be an expert already.
you kept sucking at the head, tracing the thick vein underneath. you enveloped him in your mouth, heart pounding at his rich, masculine taste.
ni-ki let out a strangled noise, his fingers tangling in your hair.
you relaxed your throat and sank lower until his cock hit the back. his hips jerked up, forcing you to take him even deeper.
and even though you're gagging and there's tears forming at your eyes, you didn't stop, you kept bobbing your head in his lap.
and to ni-ki you're gorgeous like this... your lips stretched around his big dick. bet the neighbors could hear you gagging as he really fucked on your face.
you moaned, sending sweet vibrations through his shaft, swirling your tongue as you picked up the pace.
ni-ki panted harshly, his abs were clenching.
"shit, i'm already close..." he said, eyes rolling at the back of his head.
you gently played with his balls and with a few more quick sucking and thrusts, he reached his climax, spurting jets of hot seed down your throat.
you swallowed it all, not letting a single drop escape so ni-ki wouldn't complain.
and as he came down from his high, ni-ki pulled you close for a kiss, his tongue roamed into your mouth then he groaned in approval. "i'm a lucky bastard. right?"
you smirked against his lips, then he laughed breathlessly. his cock already starting to stir again.
"can you sit on my face?"
✶ boyfriend!ni-ki is no doubt protective.
ni-ki leaves to order food at a small café, leaving you seated at a table by yourself. and while he's away, someone approaches and starts hitting on you.
he returned to the table holding a tray, his eyes immediately caught the unfamiliar figure leaning close to you. his relaxed expression hardens as he watches you visibly uncomfortable, trying to politely brush off their advances.
he calmly approached them, his height and presence alone was enough to make the stranger falter, stepping between you and the person, his hand held the back of your chair. "you need something from my girlfriend?"
the stranger stammers, "oh, i didn't know-"
"now you do?" ni-ki cuts in, eyes narrowing slightly. he wasn't loud but it is enough to make it clear that they should back off.
"you okay? did they say anything weird?"
and when you assured him you're fine, he clicked his tongue, annoyed. "can't even leave you for five minutes without someone trying something."
you looked at him in disbelief. "now you know how it feels when i'm with you!"
he just smiled smugly and sipped on his drink.
✶ boyfriend!ni-ki is cute when upset.
you didn't text him back all day and he was NOT happy about it.
now, standing in front of him, you could feel his disappointment. his arms were crossed and his lips were slightly pouting like a duck...
"oh, come on… you're not actually mad, are you?" you sighed, reaching out to touch his arm but he moved away, making a show of it.
"dunno," he muttered, "guess i just thought my girlfriend would care enough to answer me."
you blinked. "ni-ki, i was busy..."
"yeah, i know, busy ignoring me." he shot back, still refusing to look at you.
you groaned, stepping closer, "babyyyy, don't be like this."
nothing. not even a glance. he was really milking this.
so, naturally, you had to step up your game.
you wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against his chest. "ni-kiii, i said sorryyy!"
silence.
you looked up at him, blinking sweetly. "please, forgive me?"
ni-ki exhaled, his lips twitching like he was trying not to smile. but stop, he wasn't going to let you off that easily.
"you're not convincing me enough." he sighed, still acting all moody.
you smiled, tiptoeing to kiss his cheek, then his jaw, then his lips...
"better?" you whispered, smiling against his skin.
his hands finally found your waist, pulling you in closer. "hmm… getting there."
you rolled your eyes but kissed him properly this time, slow and sweet, his grip tightening as he finally gave in.
and when you pulled away, he smirked down at you. "you know you could've just texted me back saying you're busy, right?"
"yeah, but then i wouldn't get to do all this." you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck.
ni-ki grinned. "damn… i should get mad at you more often, huh?"
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read PART ONE HERE <33
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obeymeluv · 2 days ago
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Being Clever with the Fae (Malleus x Reader, Lilia x Reader, Sebek x Reader)
Pre-established relationship implied. You tell the Diasomnia boys that your world planned for ways to outsmart faes. You pull your trick but you're not sure who won.
Warning: Pepaw Bat's gets a little spicy so be careful.
I'm taking liberties with Sebek's part because he's a neutral for me and I don't know that much about him.
You and Malleus had talked about fae folklore more than once. He was delighted to know fae had something of a presence in your world but was wildly horrified at the misinformation. Out of everything you told him, only a handful were correct:
Don't give your name unless you trust that fae because names have power
Iron will hurt some fae but not all. Iron is more harmful to nocturnal fae than day fae.
Being rude to fae may be the end of you altogether
Partaking in fae food means you open yourself up for a wager
Yes, fae like to play tricks. Expect them and be wary.
Stepping into a fairy circle will summon the fairy who made it.
Just about everything else was wrong. That's why he and Lilia were teaching you what not to do if you came upon the various fae in Twisted Wonderland. Thus far you'd only managed to memorize what herbs kept smaller creatures at bay and how to curry the favor of the various faeries that helped out at NRC. Your current assignment from Lilia was filling out a map of different fae territories and classifying them as 'safe' for humans or 'unsafe'. Each territory had a tree they would love to craft from or loathed to be near and you were expected to know that, too.
Strange stuff but apparently it was important.
They liked to break up the bigger chunks of information with smaller, digestible things like etiquette so it felt more manageable. Malleus was currently instructing you on how to part from a fae in a formal setting as to not incur their wrath.
"Again, Child of Man," he's bowed down until eye level with you, one hand holding yours.
"Light shake, eye contact, nod, slide foot back, squeeze the hand, turn." he's parroting your motions until you turn away. He, instead, draws himself to his full height and observes as you pretend to walk away.
"Excellent," he nods. "But ensure you don't slouch while leaving. It will make some feel as if you don't hold them in high regard."
"That's so--" you roll your eyes. He simply lifts his brow as if to question your mild frustration. You puff your cheeks out and he laughs.
"We can be a bit particular." he agrees.
"To a fault." you smirk.
"Oh?" he's intrigued, eyes twinkling.
"Yeah," you smile. "In my world the fae were known for being literal with their word so you always had to keep something clever in reserve."
"Do tell," Malleus' grin goes from practiced and polite to genuine. A hint of fang shows.
"It's kind of specific though. Depends on that old joke about fae wanting to come for the first born."
"That's not really a joke," Malleus crossed his arms. You can't tell if he's offended or not. "We like the younglings. We're always looking to bring more around to the fae ways. In fact, fae make fantastic guardians because--"
He had a lot to say and you felt the beginnings of a lecture creep up. In some way you felt like you were in trouble. To save yourself, you said, "Just pretend. Then I can show you what we do."
Malleus pretended to make a deal with you. It looked a bit intimidating and official with the magic pulsing in the rickety floorboards of Ramshackle. They were groaning. Shadows danced along his face as pieces of his signature thorned briar wove around your joined hands. "In exchange for the repairs around Ramshackle, you will give your firstborn to me."
You pull him in, his green eyes searching curiously for any hint of what's to come. "Sure! How soon do you want to start working on that? Or do you want to wait a little while?"
All at once the floorboards fell quite. The hum of magic died with a rattle that broke the briar into tiny pieces. A few fell at your feet, the others shooting off into various directions.
Oh. Did he not understand? You thought it was clever! Maybe he was too sheltered to--
His laugh is kind of a snort at first but then you hear it honest and lilting. The hand holding yours slides up your arm and snakes around your waist. You're lifted until your hands find purchase on his shoulders and your legs wrap around whatever they reach. Your heart goes from your chest to your throat when his gloved hands slide down to your thighs as he walks you to your sad couch.
"Now is fine," he's careful to hold his weight above you, silky hair spilling around you and tickling your cheeks. His eyes are bright and boyish, a deadly compliment to his kissable lips.
Well, that technically backfired but if this were a real situation you'd make out just fine because he'd chosen to make out with you instead of curse you.
------ ----- ----- ----
Lilia wanted to focus on physical protection as much as written knowledge when it came to handling fae. You still couldn't wrap your head around the idea of him being a general but he had old photos, a weird mask, and a massive magearm to prove it. You'd picked up quite a few self-defense moves and practiced them regularly. He wanted them to be second nature to you. So here you are, in a designated training room within Diasomnia.
"You just want to cuddle me," you teased, in the familiar position of him being behind you with an arm around your neck. One elbow was planted in your shoulder, the other clasping it at the forearm to make a little prison for you. He gave a reprimanding squeeze, ever mindful of the pressure since you were fully human. Lilia gave a huffy laugh, trying to relax his smile into something more stern as he wove his fingers into your hair. You flinched at the tug and slapped his arm lightly.
"Focus," he couldn't deny himself the simple pleasure of whispering into your ear. If you asked him, it was to throw you off balance and distract you. "What could you do now?"
You thought about just leaning back into him, pressing against him, but you knew that wasn't what he meant. Capitalizing on this moment of closeness, the stillness, to huck him over your shoulder and into the floor crossed your mind but then you'd have to give him a back rub later.
Not that you minded that, either.
"We could make a deal," you leaned back to whisper in his ear even though it hurt your neck a little. You could tell by the way his bangs fluttered that he'd jerked in surprise. Was that a little pink on his cheeks? Before you could nip his pointed ear, Lilia leaned you forward and took his elbow off your shoulder, opting to hold you in a bearhug instead.
"Acceptable in this situation," he managed, clearing his throat when his voice cracked a little. "Although this exercise is supposed to be combat related."
"So make the terms. I can't negotiate a deal that doesn't exist." you try to break his hold, shimmying your shoulders and sliding your feet to see if you could slip away. He lifts you off the ground with an ease that doesn't seem possible with his short, lithe body. You hang there against him as he thinks.
"Your life for that of your firstborn."
A bit dark, wasn't it? Kind of rude, really, you thought. But, your train of thought continued to ramble, he did find Silver somewhere so it didn't seem too unusual that he'd want a kid. Either that, or he was messing with you because you told him that whisking away kids was something fae were known for in your world.
"You can't have a firstborn with your clothes on." you joke.
"That's not true because I found Silver with my--" Lilia drops you when he realizes what you've said. You weren't expecting him to drop you and didn't catch yourself, hissing as you land on your knees. Before you can start complaining or poke fun at him for being an old man he's locked the door. You're bowled over as he rushes over to you, pinning you on your back as he peppers kisses along your throat and collarbone.
He's several bites in and you’re halfway undressed when you think you hear a knock at the door. Lilia begrudgingly peels himself off of you, licking blood from the corner of his lips.
"Father? Are we not going to train today?"
"M'fraid not, my boy," Lilia turns his attention back to you, opening your legs to slip between them. "But you'll be getting a new sparring partner in about nine months."
His red eyes are glowing. They're absolutely beguiling.
"Do they come with therapy?” he hears Silver mumble as you look up at him through your lashes.
He pounces on you again. It was a brilliant, filthy tactic. He's not exactly mad about it. You've earned favor with one fae, at least, and he will protect you from the others.
----- ----- --- ---
Sebek is a hard worker. He's a product of his environment; he has Baur's straightforwardness, Lilia's dedicated regimens, and his mother's impressive teeth and jaw strength. Lilia thought the best way for you to learn some of the self-defense tactics was to fight someone your size.
Sort of. Sebek seemed to be the better choice since Silver was too sleepy to be a constant threat. And, in Lilia's mind, you should have an easier time fighting a half-fae versus a full fae.
You never noticed how muscular Sebek was until you were under him. He's got corded arms and you can see the muscles of his shoulders flexing under the Diasomnia shirt he chose for the exercise.
You've never seen him in casual clothes! He actually looks very nice. Not as buff as Jack but sturdy in his own way; his chest is broader than you imagined. A solid man.
More than capable of being Malleus' body guard.
You groan as he knocks the air out of you a little. He's on top of you, pressed into your back. He's got one foot braced against the floor, leaning his weight into you. Your arms are pinned at your side courtesy of the one he's snaked underneath you.
When did he flip you over? Asshole, you scrunch your nose in frustration as your cheeks begin to burn. He's an asshole that means well and won't go easy on you, though. He makes sure you learn. You try to inch out from beneath him but he angles his shoulder down and grabs his own wrist, dragging you back to him.
"You're supposed to do something in this situation!" he grumps, "You know how to break this hold!"
You do, but he's heavy and it probably wouldn't work. And he's had a literal lifetime of training versus your handful of months. You've tangled your legs together and used his half-lean to put him on his back. Your kicking like a tipped-over bug and almost free when you remember that his fae half is crocodilian and you might have triggered his death roll tendency.
Out of the corner of your eye you see Sebek's pupils change, the dark of his eye slitting and boring into you. His throat strains like he's growling but you don't hear anything. It trembles against the back of your neck and you're reminded in that moment of just how much bigger he is than you.
How he folds around you and encompasses you.
He opens his mouth, teeth glinting and sharp. "You've bested me," you admit, swallowing thickly as his teeth hover near your shoulder. "Make your deal."
You somehow turn yourself around in his unrelenting squeeze.
Sebek huffs as if he's insulted and you swear you see his teeth dull. His pupils begin to fill out. He's usually loathe to acknowledge his human side, as he'd much rather be full fae, but it serves him in this instance. "I'm not a true fae. Such a thing wouldn't work on me!"
"You have to pretend! Lilia's teaching me how to deal with the fae! You just won't hurt me as much. Maybe." you dare to flash that teasing grin at him and Sebek nearly tears into his own lip because he doesn't know what to do with that wiggly feeling you give him.
Him? Hurt you? Not on purpose. It would go against the core values his grandfather AND Lilia taught him! Any fae caught abusing their spouse would be drawn and quartered, made a public display of. Any human man who chose to do so was no man at all!
Sebek's face feels almost painfully warm. He can feel the heat spreading from his cheeks to his ears. "In an act of benevolence inspired by the great Prince Malleus, I shall spare your delicate human self in exchange for a child. Is that the cliche rubbish you desire?"
Some of his once slicked-back hair has fallen down on his forehead, between his eyes, as if it's disappointed in you too.
"You think our child would be cliche rubbish? Cliche Rubbish Zigvolt? That does NOT sound good! I'm naming the firstborn, you're just helping make it."
"Wha--but I--that's not!" Sebek doesn't know what to say and he hasn't been trained for this. He's careful not to shove you away but untangles himself like a thrown ragdoll. He rolls over sharply, totally fine with hiding his face in the floor. His green hair is in disarray and his arms are limp, stretched out to either side of him.
You laugh, climbing onto his back and raking your nails down it gently. He makes the noise. You're not sure what it is but you've heard it before. It's deep and somehow soothing. He relaxes underneath you as you continue to scratch his back, throwing in a squeeze to his muscles every now and then.
It's not until you're in what would be the small of his back (if he wasn't build so solid and thick) that he raises his head, folds his arms up, and rests his chin on his hands. "You're safe." he can't bear to turn his head and look at you right now. If he did, you'd see how...how...weak and mushy he looked. Sebek snorts through his nose, arching his back in surprise as your hands slide all the way up until you flop on his back and your arms hang off his shoulders.
"Thank you, o' kind Zigvolt!" you hug his neck. "This delicate human appreciates it!"
"And I...appreciate...you." he mumbled slowly, the words a little foreign to him. More scary than foreign, honestly. That heartwarming shyness evaporated in an instant when he pinned you and began a stern lecture about how you should NOT offer to conceive a child with ANY OTHER FAE and what YOU SHOULD HAVE DONE INSTEAD.
You weren't surprised by this. Sebek lectured Silver all the time and Lilia said he was a very informed pupil. You, too, would be informed as it didn't seem like he was letting you go anytime soon.
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jobean12-blog · 2 days ago
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Don't Be a Tease
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader
Word Count: 1.7K
Summary: You and Bucky are texting back and forth while he's on a mission and you decide to tease him a little...
Author's Note: The new Thunderbolts trailer has me so excited to see Bucky! I can't wait! And this idea is nothing new but I love getting him riled up! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! PS Italics are text messages :)
Warnings: fun flirty tension and mostly smut, fingering, oral (f rec), edging, orgasm denial, choking, p in v (wrap it up kids), Bucky is soft in between it all
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‘It’s really unfair that you’re walking around like that and I’m not with you…how many women have approached you so far?’
You stare at your phone screen, watching the three dots until his text pops up.
‘The only woman paying any attention to me right now is Yelena and it’s only because she has to. Ha.’
‘Nice try. You look hot. I want to come to the party…’
‘Don’t you dare leave the apartment doll face. You know it’s not safe and besides, I can’t concentrate with you around…you’re very distracting.’
‘HEY!’
'❤️😘I love you.'
‘Love you too. Be careful and come home soon.’
‘Always doll. I can’t wait. Miss you.’
‘Miss you more.’
~picture~
Bucky stares at his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen as the muscles in his jaw tighten and shift. He let’s out a low growl, startling an older woman that happens to be walking by.
His hand grips the phone tighter and he licks his lips with a strained exhale.
“Barnes. We must go. It’s time,” Yelena says, surprising him.
He makes a slight jump and her lips curve into a knowing smirk.
“What?” he grunts.
“Nothing,” she responds her smile widening. “Let us get this over with so you can get home to your girl. Da?”
He nods and glances at his phone one more time before he slips it into his pocket.
You don’t bother waiting for an answer after sending the picture and place your phone down on the bed to reach for your book. It’s hard to concentrate when all you can think about is him, but you do your best, letting the words on the page whisk you away for now.
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By the time Bucky arrives back home you’re half asleep, your eyes heavy and the words on the page blurring together.
He barely makes any sound as he unlocks the door, his footsteps the only indication he’s headed toward the bedroom.
The light from the hallway filters into the room but his broad frame blocks most of it, hiding him in shadow.
“Bucky,” you whisper and sit up, now fully awake.
He moves toward you with purposeful steps and stands at the edge of the bed, his eyes raking over every inch of you.
“Doll,” he murmurs, remaining motionless, taking in every hint of lace, every tiny bow, and every curve of your body.
You sit up and kneel on the bed in front of him, sliding your hands up and down his chest. His fingers twitch at his sides and you lean closer, brushing the hair from his face.
He grabs your hips and drags you into him, the hardness in his pants digging into your stomach. You let out a surprised gasp that turns into a moan he swallows with his kiss.
When he breaks away from your lips, it’s only so he can whisper in your ear. “Do you like teasing me doll?”
You nod with a shiver, clutching onto his shoulders.
“I..” You struggle to get the words out as his lips trail down your neck.
His long finger hooks under the strap of your lingerie and he traces the calloused pad along the curve of your shoulder.
“Mm,” he hums, sliding his hand down your stomach and between your thighs, pressing the thin fabric of your panties against your wetness. “So wet for me and I’ve barely touched you.”
Your hips jerk into his hand and he circles your clit with a featherlight touch.
“I’m gonna return the favor doll.”
“Bucky,” you whine, barely registering his threat.
His mouth curves up as his gaze darkens, satisfaction mingling with the heat of desire. You tug futilely on his bow tie, desperate for more of his skin but he stops you with a firm hand to your wrist.
“Keep your hands to yourself for now.”
Your mouth falls open with a defiant protest, but he interrupts you. “Or I’ll bind you and stuff my cock in your mouth to keep you quiet.”
A small gasp is all that escapes your parted lips before he covers them with his, carefully and deliberately unhooking your bra and pulling it off your body. Your stiff nipples brush against the soft material of his tux, building the tension about to snap in your body.
His finger continues to tease between your legs before he drags your panties down to your knees. They stop there, the bed preventing him from pulling them off any more so instead he gives them a sharp tug and rips the fabric from your legs.
“You could have just…”
His kiss silences you again and he bites your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth before soothing it with his tongue.
At the same time, his finger slides inside you, slowly pumping in and out before he adds another. You wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him as he pushes you down onto the bed and settles between your legs.
Like a man starved, his tongue moves against you, his fingers still buried deep, and a cry of his name tears from your throat.
Your legs try to close reflexively, but his grip keeps them wide open. He isn’t slow and easy and when you look down at him, still fully dressed, head buried between your thighs, you feel your release build.
His tongue finds your clit and you urge him on with a gasped, “more.”
“Who said you could make any demands doll face?” he murmurs into your skin.
“But…”
He dips his head again and you lose all train of thought, legs shaking, pressure building. You rock your hips toward his face and feel his smile. You’re so close, your stomach clenching and he pulls away.
“No! Bucky please! Let me come!”
“Doll,” he warns. “You’ll come when I tell you to.”
He slides up your body, his lips and chin wet with your arousal, brushing them across your mouth and letting you taste yourself. You kiss him back, raking your fingers through his hair and then down his back.
His fingers are back between your legs, two sliding inside you as he swallows your moans with this mouth. You buck into his hand and when he presses his thumb against your clit you pull away from his lips and arch your back.
“Bucky!” you cry out.
He pushes a third finger inside you and your legs tremble at the pleasure and sensation of being stretched. You can’t catch your breath, his thumb still working over your clit as his fingers fuck you.
Your body locks up and you clutch at anything you can, his back, the sheets, his ass and then his fingers are gone.
“No,” you beg with a whimper.
“I told you…I’m going to tease you back.”
“This isn’t teasing…it’s torture!”
His touch is gentle as he traces the line of your jaw, passing his fingertips over your swollen lips before kissing them.
“Should I stop then? I can go get changed and we can go to bed if you like.”
“Bucky…” you groan with impatience.
“That’s what I thought doll face.”
Your breath comes out unevenly as you watch him sit up, take off his jacket, and undo his pants. His cock springs free against his abs and he wraps his fist around it, pumping slowly as he lowers himself over you.
He teases your entrance, sliding himself through your wetness and bumping your clit with every roll of his hips. You squirm beneath him, trying to line yourself up so he can get inside you.
“So needy,” he whispers into your neck.
With an incoherent whine you wrap your legs around him, and he finally starts to push inside you. You struggle to breathe through the stretch but he pushes in more, making you take him deeper, and your eyes flutter closed.
“Open your eyes. Look at me doll.”
You obey and snap them open, his hips thrusting to bury the last of him deep inside you.
“You feel incredible. I can’t get enough,” he murmurs.
He keeps his pace steady, each languid movement setting your nerves ablaze with an unhurried and unrelenting build up.
His eyes focus on your face, and he smooths his metal hand up to your throat, circling it with little pressure. You clench around him with anticipation, and he groans, his grip tightening.
Everything fades around you as he squeezes harder, restricting your air flow. All your other senses dull, leaving you with just the heady sensation of his hand around your throat and the rapture of him driving into you.
Your mouth opens to get air, only letting the barest amounts in as your heart hammers against your chest. His blue eyes are fixed on yours, entranced with your every reaction. His thumb caresses your neck, the gesture so tender it makes your whole-body shiver.
He releases you just as his warm breath fans your skin and he shifts to kiss the spots on your neck where his fingers left a light print. You suck in a large gasp of air, your back arching.
He swears, his hips now snapping forward in rough, uncontrolled thrusts. His metal hand moves between your legs, working over the spot you need him most.
“Come for me doll.”
 That’s all it takes for you to let go, spiraling into bliss, your entire body shaking beneath him with the force of your orgasm.
He doesn’t stop driving into you, his lips parted with his heavy breathing and needy moans rumbling out.
“Fuck doll,” he grunts, and you feel him pulse and spill inside you.
He drops forward, his hands on either side of your head as he kisses you softly.
“Should I make you come again?” he breathes, hips still rocking slowly.
You sigh out his name, wrapping your arms around his neck and sinking into the mattress. After a moment, he shifts his weight, pulling out of you to lie down and curl you into his chest. Your head falls to the crook of his neck and silence settles as he skates his fingertips along the curve of your spine.
“Are you okay?” he asks, softly pressing his lips to your forehead.
“Mm hm,” you mumble out and nuzzle closer.
“Maybe you’ll think twice about teasing me when I’m on a mission.”
Your lips meet his neck. “I can’t wait to do it again.”
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sheepispink · 21 hours ago
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lt simon riley x puppy hybrid!reader in which you're forced into his life and he cant handle it, ignoring your existence until you talk to inanimate objects to make up for it. angst ofc
sorry if this is lowkey bad, my writing has been flopping rn, alsp insp by this (it said mdni so i didnt tag, sorry bro i read the summary and was like woah)
Ghost hated it, hated everything that related to the thought, and he made sure everyone knew that. Still, somehow, he ended up with a pretty little hybrid on his couch when he came home. He didn't think twice before walking straight past you, ignoring how you reached your hand out to greet him and locked himself in the bedroom. “Price, I told you—”
“She’s a rescue, just needs a place to stay for a little while. You’re a lieutenant so you’re technically qualified, it won't be long.”
“I’m not the only lieutenant.”
“You’ll have a budget for food and clothing, just let her stay till I can find another.”
Ghost hangs up right there and then, incredibly pissed by anyone and everyone who decided this was a good idea of any sort. But what he hates more is the way you’re sitting outside his door when he opens it again, wide eyes trying to entice him to your outstretched hand. Though unfortunately for you, he just closes the door again.
For the first week, you tried over and over again. He didn't seem to want to talk to you at all, let alone acknowledge that you were in his house. The only instructions he ever spoke was to not leave the house nor damage anything inside the house. It wasn't like you’d attempt to test either rules on purpose anyway. Instead, you tried to be useful by cleaning up where you could, even if you couldn't help but get distracted by how fun sliding across the freshly mopped floors were. Plus, blanket forts were so fun to make, what do you mean they made more mess? You switched to cooking soon after, attempting to make him breakfast except every time you tried to wake up early, he was always already gone. So, you wake up extra, extra early, finding out he wakes at five and so you wake up at four the next day. You decide on sizzled meat rashers, a fried egg and a toaster waffle because you don't really understand how the oven works. It’s not your fault his has so many funny buttons.
Unfortunately for you, his hearing is almost as good as yours, or perhaps he just never sleeps properly. That’s why he walked in just when you were nodding off in a bowl of cracked eggs, the time too early for a young pup like you, even if you were well into your twenties. He left the house with a slam that day.
After that you stopped trying, noticing it to be clearly obvious that he didn't want anything to do with you in the slightest. He didn't even glance at you, or ask if you wanted to eat anymore. The only reminder that you actually lived here were the remnants of your fur on the fluffy pillow that was your bed, and your name written on your pre-bought meals since he didn't trust you in his kitchen anymore. Questions were left to hang in the air, soft whines echoing around the empty room each night and only the dim TV for company.
Ghost had returned early today, a problem in base had left the place in slight disarray and the task force thought it’d be better if they just packed up for the day, maybe do paperwork at home instead. He clicks open the door, surprised to actually hear noise in the usually silent flat, though he’s already dreading whatever mess you’ve cooked up. As he enters the hallway, the noise becomes clearer, sounding like a voice, your voice, actually. “This is a super secret covert meeting, alright everyone? No one can know!” You squeak, and he’s raising a brow, mind already jumping to conclusions of you being a double agent sent to spy on him. He should’ve known they’d pull a dirty trick like that, especially with how Graves has been acting, there’s bound to be others to follow.
But to infiltrate his own home is something that brings him great anger, making him all the more silent when he sneaks around the house, mind running through potential ways he’ll interrogate the information out of you. He's thinking torture if you end up being a little too problematic, maybe even a shock collar if worst comes to it. It's not like he ever like you much anyway, he's almost glad for every neglect he's caused so far. He saved the entire militar--
A double agent was far too much credit. You were just a silly puppy who was sitting on the sofa opposite a tatty teddy bear, a pillow with a messily drawn paper face stuck to it and one last t-shirt that you had draped over a pillow, the cartoon cat staring back at you. They have mugs in front of them, albeit not full of anything apart from your own mug of tea. “Just kidding, let’s order then we can start.”
You hum, pretending to take a menu from the bear though it’s actually those takeaway menus that come through the letterbox. He watches carefully as you pick up one at random, eyes squinting as you attempt and almost fail to read the text. Facilities never bothered with educating their hybrids, only intent in teaching them the arts of being loyal and desirable so they’d get their pay. 
“Men….u? St.. art…eer?” It’s near impossible to understand any of it, and eventually you have to put it down, huffing out a complaint. “Okay fine, i can't read at all.” Frustrated, you pull off the t-shirt, leaving the pillow to fall on the floor. You’ve watched countless videos, only with the help of the voice recognition function on the remote control, and have attempted daily for this whole week. “So what have you guys done this week?”
He notices now that you have the tv displaying an episode from those random TV series, you probably don't even know the name of it. You’re almost attempting to recreate the same scene of the friends sitting around the table, eyes flickering at the TV as you eye how they sit. You mimic a squeaky voice, holding the teddy bear by the scruff as you move its head around. “I went to the park with my handler.”
Somehow your eyes light up despite the fact you had made that up yourself, clapping your hands together. “Wow, I love the park! I wish I could chase the squirrels…” Your expression falters for a second, eyes drooped until you shake your head, moving to puppet the pillow in the middle instead. “I went grocery shopping with mine, and we cooked a meal together.”
You smile again, retracting your hand and placing them on your hips. “A meal together?? Um.. It doesn’t matter what I did. We should do something together, but it has to be something easy.. and not too fun because if we leave a mess Simon will be mad.” He almost feels bad, but it’s not his fault, you will make a mess, and he’s already tired enough as it is. What he hadn't expected was what you’d say next.
“I don't think we’ll be able to do these meetups anymore guys.” You mumble out, frown growing on your lips as you puppeteer the bear. “What, why?”
“I-i think I’ll be getting kicked out soon. Or maybe I should just run away.. Should I? I mean, it’s not a totally bad idea and Simon won't have to deal with me!”
You stare back at the two fake people in front of you, the silence hanging heavy in the air until you reach forward, plucking the paper smiley face off the pillow and sticking on a sad face instead. “I know, I know— running away is bad and I'll only get hurt. What else then?”
The silence is long again and for once Simon can feel the distraught look on your face as you clench the hem of your loose sweater, nose wrinkled. It’s clear you’re not feeling too good, especially if you’ve resorted to talking to your own stuffed animals about running away to make him happier. It’s a pitiful sight to say the least but he can't blame you either, he’s purposefully ignored every single one of your feeble attempts to talk to him. It’s not like it helps that you’ve been cooped in a house for two weeks straight, not able to talk to anyone else. Now that he’s forced to notice, forced to think about it, it’s clear he’s torturing you, in some sick unintentional way. You’re locked away, a prisoner, a ghost— someone no one even knows exists despite how much you cry and beg for a sound to be made. 
The small shuffle of your steps is sad, the way you put everything into position perfectly in case he gets annoyed, not that he’d ever express it anyway– sometimes you wish he just would say something, anything. But he doesn't, and you take the tatty teddy bear, hugging it to your chest. Not even your tail can bring you much warmth, the matted fur rough against your skin as you’ve failed to upkeep it’s maintenance the more miserable you grow. 
You wont stay here for long, you’ll be moved elsewhere and grow older, less ‘desirable’ as you lose all your puppy cuteness until you’re finally left on the streets, scavenging bins for food like your parents did. A cycle that only repeats for you.
—————-
part 2 (coming soon, ask to be tagged)
other hybrid drabble i did
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eiightysixbaby · 24 hours ago
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eat your heart out
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pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader
in which eddie masters valentine’s day through the art of eating pussy
cw: 18+ ONLY — SMUT oral (f receiving)
a/n: an early valentine from me to all of u. mwah mwah hope u enjoy ❤️
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Eddie Munson doesn't really know what to do when it comes to Valentine's Day.
It's not like he's an idiot; he understands that typically a romantic dinner or a bouquet of flowers and some chocolates are the perfect show of appreciation and affection.
But those things are typically reserved for your girlfriend, and you're not his girlfriend.
But you're also, like, not not his girlfriend.
Eddie doesn't really know what you are, and that's the issue. It started off with you guys just hooking up. Late nights in his van parked behind the school or in a dark part of some neighborhood. Quickies in the bathroom during a break in Hellfire sessions. But it's slowly started to morph into... something else? Eddie isn't one hundred percent sure, but he's noticed that you come over more often, and you don't just want to jump his bones and leave.
Sometimes you guys don't even fuck anymore. Sometimes you invite him over just to watch movies, or he'll ask you to go for a drive with him. You hold his hand under the table when you go out to Benny's diner with the friend group, and Steve keeps waggling his eyebrows at him suggestively every time he catches you two sitting extremely close to each other. Which just makes Eddie blush like a loser.
And, every time you two are about to part ways, you look like you really want to kiss him before he goes.
And sure, you guys have kissed before. He's not about to hook up with you without at least kissing you stupid first. But this is different. You've been looking at him like you just want to kiss him, with nothing to come afterwards.
It all makes him sweat if he thinks about it for too long.
So for now, in the midst of his anxious unwillingness to ask you the horrifying 'What are we?', he's simply decided to show his appreciation for you on Valentine's Day with the one thing he's certain you'll love. He can deal with his feelings and stuff, later.
Your hand fists its way into his hair, fingers gripping his unruly curls like they're the only thing still tethering you to earth. His knees press into the worn carpeting of the trailer, his mouth latched to your cunt while his hands keep the fabric of your skirt rucked up at your waist.
You’re standing with your back pressed against the kitchen counter, your sneakers still on. He barely gave you a moment to settle yourself upon arrival before he was on you like a bad rash.
What can he say? When it all comes down to it, he’s a simple man, and you’re his favorite meal.
“Eddie,” you sigh, tilting your head back in bliss.
His tongue swipes its way through your folds before finding your clit and sucking on it. He can feel your body tremble, your knees nearly buckling with the overwhelming sense of pleasure.
His big brown eyes chance a glance up at you, at the exact moment you’re looking down at him. Your lips part in a moan, his tongue flicking rapidly at your clit, though he’s not sure if it’s that or the eye contact that forced the sound from you.
He’s guessing the latter, because something in your gaze feels different. The entire moment feels different.
Before, being intimate with you felt reckless, hot. Now it’s like he’s spilling every word he hasn’t said to you into the space between your thighs, hoping you’ll read his secret code. Hoping desperately that he’s not seeing this wrong, that you actually do like him as much as he realizes he likes you.
He needs to chill before he whispers an I love you right here on his knees.
He breaks your gaze after a moment or two, letting his eyes fall closed once more. He can taste how wet you are, he’s lapping up your arousal with every swipe of his tongue, and he honestly would kind of be okay with dying right here. His face is completely buried in you, nose bumping your clit, tongue on a mission to be as deep inside of you as possible.
You let your hips buck, nearly grinding on his face as he licks and sucks and bites, his ringed fingers squeezing the meat of your ass now.
“Eddie, ohmygod,” you cry, your white knuckle grip on the countertop keeping you from collapsing.
“What is it, baby?” he asks sweetly, kitten licking your sensitive bud before taking it between his lips and sucking.
That’s another thing, he’s started calling you all of these pet names lately. And the more he does it, the more he finds he doesn’t want to stop. He might actually be physically incapable of stopping.
“Feels so good, I—” you gasp at the sudden intrusion of two of his fingers. “I fucking love you,” you rasp out, your body reaching its peak at the exact moment the words escape you.
Eddie’s eyes shoot up to look at you, going impossibly wide. Yet he doesn’t stop what he’s doing, he brings you fully through your high until you’re shaking all over. Your words did nothing but spur him on, more determined than ever to bring you crashing down around him.
Only once you’ve come down do you seem to process what you said, and for a minute all you can do is stare at each other.
“Eddie, I—” you scramble, but he’s quicker.
“No. Don’t backtrack. Don’t do that,” he says, still on his knees before you. Still tasting you on his lips, still feeling you beneath his fingertips.
He rises to his feet, hooking a finger under your chin. You’re giving him that look again. The one that makes it seem like you want to kiss him more than you want to breathe.
And so he gives in. Lips smashing to yours, in a completely different context than any of the times before. He hopes you can feel everything he feels just through this kiss. Hopes he’s getting his point across.
The way you pull him flush up against you to deepen the kiss gives him the idea that his point was received.
Eddie Munson is great at this whole Valentine’s Day thing.
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prael · 17 hours ago
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Day 12: Three Shades of Sin
Le Sserafim Kazuha & Yunjin & TripleS Xinyu
words: 11,736 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist
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Look, you know this story starts with the way Xinyu has her fingers threaded beneath Kazuha's jaw, her lipstick smeared off in bits and pieces, but that’s not actually how it ends. It’s a slow descent; watching your girlfriend kiss someone new is a beautiful disaster that never really loses its lustre, and the truth is, there’s no moral at the end of this tale - the closest you’ll get to something cathartic is this:
Yunjin grinning at you, sunshine-bright and wickedly gorgeous. “You gonna invite us in, or what?”
-
First things first: the bar is packed - oh, it's always packed - but especially so on the nights when Kazuha performs. It's not a burlesque club, not really; in theory, it's not all that much more than an upscale lounge for yuppies with more money than they need, trying to pretend they're living sophisticated lives with a splash of debauchery on the side.
It's packed, obviously, because they're getting a little more debauchery than expected tonight - but all the familiar faces are there: the grad-school crowd who treat this club like the neighbourhood dive bar; the pretentious A-list types who claim to hate this kind of thing but always seem to show up anyway; the trust-fund kids and their vices and habits; the semi-locals, like you. They’re the mainstay: you know their drink orders, what they’re into, whether you’ve gone home with them before. You know who is dating who. Who's got a looser distinction between romance and just fooling around. Who got fired. Who's always fucked up beyond all help. You know the girl sitting at the end of the bar nursing a cosmo and waiting for you, alone.
She'd come to see Kazuha perform like everyone else.
"You missed my boyfriend," Xinyu says to you, just shy of winking. She looks beautiful - she always does, of course, but this time: she's wearing black leggings and a crop top that shows off the cut of her waist, her toned abs. The skirt is so small it's basically an accessory to how she's got her dark hair pinned up into something half-bedroom, half-backstage-chic, hoop earrings that dangle just above the slope of her neck.
"Did I?" you reply, coy. It's not flirting - or maybe it is, you're not sure.
She tips her head, cheek resting delicately on her knuckles. You end up staring at her mouth; the words coquettish and prurient and absolutely, unquestionably fuckable are swirling around your brain. "Yep," she says, and her lips curve beautifully. "You did."
Xinyu turning up the dial until she's impossible to resist is pretty much standard-operating-procedure here- it's sort of like this place runs through her blood. She's claimed ownership of it for herself.
"It's too bad," she says, drumming acrylics on the countertop. She shoots you a look that's all bedroom eyes: that drowsy, liquid-lidded kind of want that tells you she'd have her head tilted back against your pillows in less than a few minutes if you asked. "I think you would've really gotten along."
"Guess I'll just have to settle for his girlfriend." You lean closer to her, conspiratorial. "This is fun. What else are we doing tonight?"
"Oh, yeah, you know." She stretches long and languid, satisfied. "Same as usual." That means dancing - some partying, probably lots of drinking, flirting. You're going to take her home and pin her wrists to the pillow above her head. You don't mind any of that - it's become your life, these last months, too. You know the routine here like you've known it for years.
"Want something to drink?" you ask her, and Xinyu considers you. Like she's going to pounce.
"Not really," she says, and then her chin fits into the dip between her thumb and pointer finger. You get closer. "Think I'm thirsty for something else." There's nothing left of the distance between you, and you're not kissing her yet, not yet - but the tension is making a point of shuddering and cracking.
All that promise of something more.
"Don't let this go to your head, but." Xinyu reaches out a hand. You play into the script; you take it and bring her knuckles to your lips. Her wrist smells like the perfume you bought her a Christmas ago. You kiss there, too - for a split second. "I love my boyfriend. He's great." Your eyes dart to hers again - she's always watching, waiting for the attention to come back her way. "But sometimes girls just hit differently, right?"
"See anyone in particular?" you say, still nonchalant, while Xinyu hooks a fingertip onto the neckline of your shirt.
"Oh," says Xinyu. Her grin is devilish, dangerous: like she'd carve right through your throat. "That's cute of you. Like, you really wanna know, hm? I have a list."
"How long is it?" You raise an eyebrow, feign boredom. She likes the challenge.
"Depends on the night."
"But I'm at the top," you continue, unabashed - your usual brand of charming. "Right?"
Xinyu laughs; it's a delight, musical and precious. You'd listen to it for hours if you could.
"You already know, honey." Her nails skim your neck; they catch in your hair. The strands fall over the silver around her fingers. "Top of my list, and everyone else's, too."
"Nope." You lean even further over the bar, stealing the inches, taking them for your own. "Not tonight."
"I don't share." Xinyu taps your nose, prim, smirking. Her eyes are shining, brimming with energy - you can't look away from her. She's intoxicating. She's beautiful. "He wouldn't like that anyway."
"Oh, come on. That sounds like a 'him' problem. Right?"
There's a raucous chorus of laughter from across the floor: people coming in from the cold, wanting to see the show, see a gorgeous girl in next-to-nothing strut her stuff up onstage. You watch as Xinyu's eyelashes flutter, delighted - she's waiting for something to begin; this is a ritual that repeats, the fervour starting low and ending high.
And it starts, and it ends, always, with you looking at her.
"We'll see," sings Xinyu, and she twirls on her stool, one leg neatly hooked over the other. The bar erupts into thunderous applause - the lights dim, and Kazuha emerges onstage.
-
See, the club isn't normally about stripteases - sure, some girls dance - but this is still a place with bottle service and $18 cocktails, not one where dancers make a show of stripping out of their lingerie. And it's not like you care much for how people try to make themselves seem better than they are, really: if you wanna be trashy, fine. If you want to keep up appearances, put on some kind of show like you're worth a dime more than anyone else out there, great, fine, do that. This place may be the latter, but in the end, it's all the same; everything falls apart once the night sets in. Everything stays messy, no matter which box you paint yourself into.
That's a long preface to say: you're just not expecting her in the slightest.
To be honest, most nights aren't all that exciting - there are people to remember, drinks to mix up, tabs to close and mouths to kiss, sometimes - but mostly, there's not a lot worth mentioning. When people come into the bar - the people who are new, the people who think that this is an opportunity for the night to turn interesting - you look up, size them up, wonder who they're going home with, if you're interested at all. More often than not, it's none of the above.
"Hi," says the new face as she slides up to you on the stool. Well, okay, so this part is different.
Xinyu stepped out earlier - said she had someone else to find, said you'd probably like who she had in mind, but whatever. You'll see when you see. You're not picky. You were ready to dick around on your phone until your girlfriend figured out which plaything you were both in the mood for tonight - you're not opposed to another addition, not at all - but then-
Then the girl sits at the bar, leans on her elbows over the polished surface. Rakes her fingers through the wisps of dark hair at her forehead, pushes it back, and -
And meets your gaze dead on, and doesn't break it. Not even a bit.
Okay - so, she's blindingly, impossibly stunning. A textbook fucking ten.
"Hi," she says again, firmer, like she knows what you're thinking. "Do they serve anything here that isn't blue or tastes like putting your tongue to a nine-volt?"
It's such a shockingly mild opener that you immediately laugh at her. It just spills right out of you.
"Yeah," you say, leaning against the bar, mildly amused. You call over the bartender, order in duplicate - you're pretty sure that's how this works, you have to get the drink in front of her, not even mention it, just let her know that you're calling the shots here - and then fix her with another look, eyebrows quirked. "New in town?" you ask. Small talk. Sure.
"No," she replies, "just new in here." She tosses her silky red hair over her shoulder. Reveals the halter-neck of her blouse and the deepness of the dip. Her collarbones are out. You barely even notice. "Also," she continues, "this place is a fucking zoo."
There's no patience to her. She's harsh, no filter. Your drinks arrive, and she hardly reacts when they do.
"It's a bit crowded." You're trying somewhat to stay diplomatic. "It's the girl on stage," you offer, and you gesture vaguely towards Kazuha's figure: long legs and curves in all the right places, raven-black hair falling to her waist. Everyone looks at her like she's a gift sent down from heaven. She's dressed in something gold, sequin, and she knows that they're pretty much right.
"Well, I guess that explains it."
"Everyone's hoping she'll take off more clothes." You shrug your shoulders at your new companion. "But she never does, so I'm not quite sure why everyone thinks tonight will be the exception."
"No shit," the girl drawls, her tone entirely blasé - she's so painfully disaffected, the disinterested, entitled type; your heart skips a beat. "No offence to you, man, but I think most of the guys here are either idiots or creeps." The redhead wrinkles her nose. "Or both."
"A fair assessment, honestly," you muse. Sip your drink. It's bitter. She hasn't touched hers. "You think I'm any different?"
The corner of her mouth ticks up. "No," she says.
The room seems to tilt sideways, and everything gets fuzzy: it feels like you're supposed to be talking in code or perhaps just reading between lines - there's a whole secret conversation happening beneath this surface-level, meaningless banter. You're making contact, making plans. She knows where this is going. You're right there with her.
"The girl up there is cute," the redhead says after a while, thoughtful. "What's your deal with her? How come you haven't turned into one of the animals in the horde yet?"
It's an obvious line of questioning.
"She's nice," you admit, "but I've already got something good going with someone. No need to push my luck with anyone else."
At this, she raises an eyebrow, curious, cautious, wary. "Nice, how?"
"I mean, she's beautiful," you say, "very pretty." Easy things. Surface things. These things anyone could list off. "Cute voice."
"Nothing in particular, though, huh." Her eyes flick back to the performer onstage - Kazuha's walking the catwalk, kicking her heel out at the men closest to her; her skirt rides up, and everyone goes absolutely wild for it - and then returns her focus to you. "Not your type?"
You've been in this seat - or one just like it, at least - watching Kazuha's ass onstage for countless nights. You're well aware of her appeal, but you can't figure out a harmless way to say your mind is giving you three images of a palm-print burning across the same expanse of skin at any given moment.
You shrug, ambivalence feigned. "I guess not."
"It's funny." She props her chin on her palm, her nail polish glittering against her jawline. She's barely touched her drink. "The girl's normally such a doll, right? Kind of girlish. Could barely hold a conversation with a boy when I met her. And now she's all that. On stage."
"Hmm," you reply, like you can't imagine it. "Is that right?"
"Oh yeah," she tells you, half-smiling. Her lipstick leaves marks on the glass as she takes her first sip. "Years of ballet school will do that to a girl. Though maybe something about performing just became second nature."
"Explains the legs," you mutter, feeling the look she levels with you; dangerous. "And the gracefulness," you amend quickly. She raises an eyebrow at you, and you raise one right back; it's a power struggle, and when her fingers curl across her chin, you almost choke on nothing.
"Legs and grace," she says. "That's about it for her, huh?"
You nod, your voice quiet, soft.
"How do you know her?" you ask gently.
"Oh, honey," she croons. Her face is halfway to laughter, mirth perched like a threat in her voice. She puts a palm flat on the counter and slides it forward so her manicure scrapes at the varnish. Leans into you over the edge of the bar and presses her lips to your ear. "I'm fucking her."
Everything in your brain stops, and starts; everything crashes down around you; everything rearranges.
"You know," the girl continues like she's explaining something casual, something innocent, "she's real fun on her hands and knees. Can't get enough of me." She tilts her head, contemplative. "I suppose she is beautiful," she adds, almost thoughtfully, and then reaches out her fingers. Tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "And graceful."
All you can picture are those gorgeous, creamy thighs marked up by nails like razors: bruises shaped like fingertips, angry scratches that would leave scars if pushed hard enough. Things for her to return to.
You swallow. You blink.
"She's very lovely," you say, careful, careful.
"Listen." The girl leans away, sweeps her red hair back over her shoulder, fixes you with her heavy-lidded eyes again. "We don't have to pretend we're in love or anything." Her voice is velvet, husky; the words catch at your eardrum and melt there, dripping down the bones of your skull like liquid seduction. "She's busy, clearly. So, I'm looking for a little company tonight, and I think I've found it."
"And your girlfriend?"
"Can't make it." She smiles, wolfish. "Which, if you don't mind me saying, is very lucky for you."
"Girlfriend, who you fuck into the mattress," you clarify. "She'd have no problem sharing?"
"With a pretty thing like you?" Her eyelashes flutter - the way they sweep low makes shadows across her cheeks, delicate. "No chance she'd object."
Your mouth twists to the side. "What's the catch?"
"No catch," she purrs. "Just: I'm going to go to the bathroom, and I think you could follow me there in five minutes, tops. Sound like a plan, handsome?"
Oh.
Okay. You think vaguely that Xinyu's probably got a hand in this, somehow. Doing this on purpose, leaving you here to fend for yourself - and it's a very Xinyu kind of move, really: setting you up with some stranger, letting her proposition you, and waiting for it to escalate past the point of return. Sending you right up to a pretty pair of vices, telling you to chew them down to size. Maybe if you do good - you already know how she wants you to perform - you'll get an actual reward later. Another girl for you to fuck, or maybe Xinyu herself. Or both. Your brain is spinning in circles. You really, really can't think straight with her breathing right onto your pulse.
"What, you've got something better to do than fuck two girls tonight? The girl seems to weigh something out in her mind; watches you through a side-long glance. "You really can't drop everything to play around for a little bit?"
So maybe it's not Xinyu's handiwork - this is a little too far-fetched, even for her - but you can't lie. When she goes ahead, drags her fingers on your shoulder as she glides by and doesn't bother looking back, the way your cock throbs makes it easy to decide that it doesn't matter.
-
You get lost a bit on the logistics. (That'll actually be a recurring theme.)
There's a pair of single-occupancy toilets in the back of the bar, ostensibly family washrooms; for mothers with children, wheelchairs, sloppy bathroom sex with god-blessedly gorgeous strangers, that sort of thing - but they're occupied. Both the handles spun up; red tags flipped up to indicate engagement, a motif, and symbolism in spades. Something heavy-handed and easily ignored.
"Maybe I should just get on my knees right here," she suggests eventually - like a joke, but she'd do it. You're pretty sure.
"Absolutely not," you counter, only a little bit scandalized. She grins and presses a palm flat to your abdomen.
"Just problem-solving." She's totally blasé. "Critical thinking."
"Careful with that," you warn her, sorta unreasonably given where your fingers are on the cut of her hips.
She pretends to think about it, fingers tapping thoughtfully on her lip, a comical exaggeration, and you just roll your eyes. You think about getting her name, maybe a number - you could just leave it at that, save her contact info under tall, great ass, (fuckable) lips and pray to hell it never comes up as recommended when someone else texts you.
Yeah, right. It's better to just bury yourself in this until it all dissolves - stick to the immediacy of it. Get your mouth on every part of her body and lick her clean, and then be gone before the sun rises. Right?
She pulls you down by your neck and slots your lips together again, slow, agonizing, her lips slipping over yours like they're made to be there. She kisses like it's an art form - something you can perfect, practice - and her tongue darts along the seam of your mouth like she wants to coax you open. There's the bite of cherry lipstick, sweet and candied; her fingertips into your belt loops, then yanks you toward her with her nose scrunched and a wicked smile.
"I can't believe you'd let me fuck you with your back against the wall like this." Her hips bump forward into yours - she's playing at bashful, coy and innocent. She's failing miserably. "What if someone sees?"
"I think you'd like that," you answer.
"Mmm," she agrees. She's tipping her head back, sliding her tongue across her upper lip, baring her neck to you. Her eyes flick back up, dragging like a blade. "Letting someone walk by, seeing you pushing into me, knowing I was about to make you lose control...yeah. Sounds hot, honestly."
"Shut up," you murmur, leaning closer.
"Make me," she kisses back, eyes flashing; oh, if you didn't feel it before, this is definitely how you know you'll see her again: you recognize the power in her stance, the firecracker-red blaze in her glare - it's like looking in a mirror, that domineering aggression. It's the promise of a rivalry; something you'll want to tame.
A wayward thought lingers: oh, hell - your mind is rapid on the recall, an endless, eager, addicting memory loop - how she kisses, too. The silky sweetness, the enthusiasm - the way her hands bury in your shirt and her pitched, muffled sounds of appreciation spill right into your throat. How she's such an obscene daydream, and the filthy, filthy things she tells you with her hands in your hair - the shock of that, her bold, pretty mouth telling you what she's fantasizing about right now and the fact that those fantasies line up with yours in nearly every sense. Her very presence is a contradiction, her mismatched gestures: tender kisses and wandering hands; how, for every inch given, she'll take five more.
You get your fingers under her skirt, pull her legs up to your waist; she wraps her palm over your cock; smiles against your lips, almost smitten but too arrogant for it: a villainous grin. You hitch one of her thighs over your hip, her panties damp against your slacks. Oh, how good she is - how perfect the feeling, how beautifully her teeth sink into the soft underside of your lower lip like you belong to her: a piece of property.
"That's it, sweetheart," you groan, kissing the apple of her cheek, letting the blush seep right under your tongue. Your hand hovers near her inner thigh. "God, you're so fucking sexy."
"Touch me," she hisses into the skin of your cheek.
"So demanding," you hum.
"Oh, shut the fuck up," she moans, arching into your chest - but her eyelashes flutter as your thumb ghosts across the fabric of her underwear, teasing. "Ah-ha..."
You'll justify it later, somehow: a cheat night, maybe - Xinyu's so used to getting other girls all to herself, you should have a few all to your own - and this one doesn't count as one, really; she belongs to someone else anyway, the raven-haired girl with the siren voice, long legs in silk stockings and pearls across her neck and high-heeled boots clicking across the pavement. And Kazuha doesn't even have to know: she's busy, probably; off with another guy or two or three. No reason to tell her what happens - you certainly won't complain. One orgasm and the redhead will be out of your hair.
There's a side door, some stairs. Nobody stops to ask who you are or where you're going, or even so much as bat an eye as you spill out into the alley - where people go to smoke or fight or vomit; she kisses you outside in the cold air, sliding her hands into your pockets and pushing up to the tips of her toes. There's a smile on her face like you're her best idea ever. It's cold out; she doesn't appear to care.
"God, I'm wet," she breathes, and you don't have to believe her.
"I bet I can help with that." Your jacket slides across your shoulders, off onto the concrete. You're leading her around a corner and against a brick wall. It's dark here. Dark enough for mistakes. Dark enough that you can press her spine to the bricks, slide your hands to her sides and lift her up, taste the lipstick across her jawline-
"Oh my god," comes a voice - softer, sweeter, a total siren lilt. "Please, fuck, that feels so-"
Both your heads swivel.
One streetlight illuminates Kazuha with her back pressed to the bricks and her hand curled tightly in all this black hair, panting, pleading: a perfect fucking masterpiece. She's got her eyes screwed shut, her lips parted; she's absolutely lost.
"Huh," says the redhead, dispassionate - and her fingers curl loosely over your forearm, drumming rhythmically. "Looks like she got distracted after all."
The hand between her legs is fucking her up and doing it fast, snapping sharp wrist motions accompanied by these rhythmic, throaty gasps from Kazuha as she holds onto the edge of a dumpster lid, clawing at metal. There's a muffled string of curses as the woman crouches, leaning forward - shoving her tongue inside. "Fu-uck," Kazuha manages, two distinct syllables - and her grip tightens around her waist, her spine. You catch the light shining off her gold earrings like a flash-warning, and you fall short of a breath.
“Xinyu?” you sputter. “What’re you-”
Xinyu extracts her hand from Kazuha’s cunt, licks her fingers clean and turns to you, not at all guilty - but she isn’t sorry, either. You blink hard.
“Oh, hey,” says Xinyu, cheery as anything. She brushes off her dress. “Didn’t think I’d find you here.”
“Neither did we,” you choke, dry-mouthed. “Are you…”
“We’re making use of some downtime,” offers Kazuha, smoothing down her hair, wiping off her smudged lipstick. The makeup is so precise that it doesn’t look smudged at all - or maybe that’s just how used she is to covering it up. “Is there a problem?”
“No, none-” Your mouth snaps shut as Xinyu meets your stare and gives you an impish little shrug, biting back a smile. She saunters over to where you stand, keeping a respectable distance.
“Look at this, babe," Xinyu says. She gestures to the girl you were making out two seconds ago, casual. "I found him first. Isn’t he handsome?”
“You’ve got weird taste,” replies the redhead, not unkindly, tilting her head back against the wall and exposing all that gorgeous skin. You can see her chest rise and fall in ragged breaths. Xinyu walks a hand up your torso, palms your collarbone with a suggestive smile - it's a little possessive, but then again, you realize you’ve forgotten to let go of the other girl's hand.
“You would be into him,” retorts Kazuha. She laughs softly. “Hi, Jen,” she adds, almost as an afterthought.
“Hey,” Yunjin says, wiggling her fingers, lazy. “Loved the performance."
"Shut the fuck up," snipes Kazuha, rolling her eyes, but she's flushed, halfway to an orgasm that's not gonna happen because everyone is apparently choosing now to puzzle this one out. "Could see you flirting with him the entire time, idiot."
"He's super fucking hot," says Yunjin. "Oh, speaking of which-" She tugs you closer by your wrist - you're stuck, standing still, trapped between three gorgeous women ready to argue over who saw who first.
“Wait,” you manage, breaking free. Yunjin huffs. Xinyu frowns, blinking. Kazuha leans back against the wall.
“We didn’t plan this or anything,” explains Kazuha. “Xinyu just likes what she sees sometimes.” There’s a practised ease in the way she says this - like this has all been rehearsed before between the two of them. "Or, well-" Kazuha lifts a shoulder, delicate, polished. "A lot of the time, I guess."
"Yeah," Xinyu says, not defensive. "So?"
"Well," you say, after a long moment - your mind working furiously to process, reconcile, synthesize - this scene where you're being pulled in six directions at once, trying to put this story together before any more pages flip.
"That's your girlfriend," you say to Yunjin, finally - and point a finger towards Kazuha.
"And yours," says Kazuha, one hand on Xinyu's hip. “Hi,” she adds.
"Yep," says Xinyu. "How about that."
She steps up close to you and bats those dark lashes. Behind her, Kazuha’s gaze catches your glance; it takes you a solid ten seconds to realize she’s trying to place where she’s seen you before - it clicks for her all at once, though it's a lot quicker for you - and then it all slots neatly into place, every cog and screw lining up in an easy motion.
“So.” Yunjin chews idly at the pad of her thumb. "What, you guys met once at the mall or something?"
"Yeah," you reply, realizing exactly how you and yours have come to fall for two of the same type. "We met at the mall."
If you'd like to imagine that this goes smoothly after that - it doesn't. Not really. It's more accurate to say that Yunjin looks at you, your blank stare, the panic - and the three girls just dissolve into laughter, giddy and conspiratorial like they've just pulled off the world's greatest coup.
"C'mon," says Yunjin. She's so good at reading social cues - like, oh, you being totally stunned-silent by the sheer amount of sexual energy suddenly coursing through this alleyway. "You said it yourself," Yunjin reminds you, gesturing at Kazuha, "beautiful, very pretty, nice legs." She brings her lips to your cheek. "You didn't lie about that."
"What?" says Kazuha.
Yunjin just smiles, brushes a lock of red hair behind her ear. "We have taste," she tells Kazuha, confident and poised - and then to you, hushed under her breath, "I'd watch you rail her," she murmurs. Her tongue darts out, pressing wet and warm into the shell of your ear. "Would you like that?"
"That's-" you start. You stop. Xinyu looks over at you, a devious flicker lighting up her eyes - oh, god; if that doesn't spell disaster, nothing does -and the grin she gives you is so downright evil you wonder why you ever dared dream you stood a chance. She looks back over at Kazuha, reaches out a hand to clasp gently at that impossible waist, pulling her in close.
"Sweetheart," Xinyu drawls, tracing a thumb over her jawline. "Doll," she continues, letting the nickname linger. She leans up, pecks a kiss against Kazuha's mouth - but her eyes don't leave yours for a second. She bites down gently on Kazuha's lower lip, tugging lightly at the skin before letting it snap back.
"You know I wouldn't ever get jealous over sharing something with you," Xinyu murmurs. She says it like a proclamation; something binding, solemn - a pact signed in ink, wax-sealed and pressed into the skin of Kazuha's collarbone. They're practically the same height. It makes your throat run dry. "You get me," she says.
Yunjin laughs, but not meanly. "It's cute how you pretend you aren't selfish," she says to Xinyu, rolling her eyes. Her lips curve upwards. "Tell me something I don't know." And then - you feel her fingertips trail delicately over your waistband, slipping her thumb below the hem of your jeans. "Hey, Kazuha?"
Kazuha drags her focus off Xinyu with visible effort, snapping back into the conversation.
"Wanna ride his face?"
Xinyu is grinning like a lunatic, gorgeous and predatory.
Kazuha gathers her hair off her neck. “He seems like the type who would want to eat pussy for hours."
"I wouldn't complain," you croak out - and Yunjin laughs. It’s genuine, unpracticed, the sort of thing that shakes her shoulders; it fills you up.
"Why don't you sit back down against that wall," she tells you, nudging at your ribs. Her touch feels electric. "Relax."
Oh. She says it like an order, and you realize that she knows full well what it'll do to you. She's still smiling, though it's sharper now, sharper, hungrier - like the glint of fangs that'll tear you apart. It's really no wonder you ended up exactly where she wanted you - but then you realize Kazuha's looking at you, and you realize that you're not entirely sure whose team you're on or if there even are any teams here. It's not like you can complain. The most you can manage is a grunt of acknowledgement, sitting down slowly, trying not to trip over your own feet and ruin everything.
"Good boy," Yunjin quips, quiet enough to feel private, intimate. You blink up at her, still holding her hand in your lap as you sit down, staring like she holds the key to all seven wonders of the world in her palm. "Kazuha," Yunjin calls over her shoulder, patting your arm. "Get over here. Come meet my new friend."
And that's sorta how you wind up in some kind of...what-the-fuck situation? Some otherworldly thing you shouldn't even hope to explain - some alternate dimension shit with two beautiful women pressing you back against some dirty-ass brick wall in the alley behind your usual haunt, a third one laughing hysterically at all four of you. You feel like the dumbest motherfucker alive, especially when Xinyu whispers something in Yunjin's ear, and it earns a resounding laugh, but mostly just because your girlfriend's hands are everywhere and Yunjin's sitting back and watching like it's prime-time television.
That - and also because Kazuha's decided she needs your face buried in her cunt ASAP, and frankly, you can't even muster up the energy to disagree.
-
First things first: the bar is packed - oh, wait, no: it's always packed. But especially so on the nights where you're trying to navigate this stupid situation, you got yourself into where three fucking goddesses have you on rotation, like clockwork. 
You're collecting coats and closing tabs, doing your absolute best not to bring any more attention to how Kazuha's wobbling on both legs because she can't quite walk straight anymore.
Yunjin - your current distraction, clad in the most perfect shade of red lipstick, clinging onto your favourite girl like a lifeline - keeps leaning over to Xinyu, whispering frantically in her ear, and it's like the more they talk, the more amused Xinyu gets.
"I told Yunjin your apartment's the closest," Xinyu says to you, eventually, a small smirk forming on her face. "Think she wants you alone for a while. Sounds like she thinks you could really, uh-" She nods toward you, gesturing pointedly towards your belt. "Blow her back out, is how she phrased it."
Oh. Well, then. Yeah, no, you'd be perfectly okay with that.
When you glance back over at the rest of your - you don't have a word for it - entourage, all three pairs of eyes are locked on you, expectant and eager. Jesus fucking Christ. You make brief eye contact with Yunjin; her smile grows impossibly wider. This was meant to be a casual night, wasn't it? A nice outing at the lounge bar where you down drinks and enjoy the scenery - that was how it started, right? Then Yunjin had shown up, demanding all your attention like you owed it to her just for existing (and honestly? You kinda do). It'd been an excuse to look at Kazuha's tits, and then another to press your mouth all over Xinyu's - but the way your girlfriend's looking at you makes it abundantly clear that that ship's already sailed. 
Kazuha raises a water bottle to her lips, looking cool and confident as ever (oh, you know better).
"Didn't mean to invite everyone over, but." Xinyu preens, adjusting the hem of her skirt and checking for signs of wear. She knows exactly what she's saying, exactly what you're thinking - there's an intentness to her words. "You wouldn't mind, right, baby?"
"Yeah, sure," you agree, glancing up at all of them with a nod. You've never moved faster in your life; your coat's over your arm, keys in your pocket, the whole ensemble. They're watching you, waiting patiently. Xinyu raises an eyebrow. "Lead the way?"
She beams. She turns, slips her purse strap over her shoulder. "Alright," she chirps - and the four of you take off into the night.
-
It's funny, you think: Xinyu's also had a weak spot for Kazuha, probably since the first time she saw her perform. (That's the part that sticks out in your brain.) But then again, maybe Kazuha knew about Xinyu too; they seem pretty damn cosy for this being their first interaction with each other, though you suppose you can't judge - you were practically aching for Yunjin within an hour of meeting her, weren't you?
But whatever. Your cock is in Yunjin's hand, and your mind is very much not present right now. That's the important thing.
By the time you finally unlocked your front door, all four of you stumbling in - everyone tipsy, aroused, dying to get their hands on someone's skin - Yunjin immediately glued herself to you, pushing your coat off your shoulders. She'd gotten your zipper undone in record time. It's not the first time, obviously: she's got this ghost of a grip around your cock already, a knowing stroke, this way of handling your arousal that feels almost proprietary in its control.
There's an island in the kitchen; you're washed up on its shore. Fingers spread across the marble sand as the edge presses against your lower back. "Drinks are in the—"
"You can skip the fanfare." Yunjin is stroking you, her other hand at the nape of your neck to pull you down, kiss her; your mouth meets hers, hot, messy, too hard. Pick up where you left off sort of thing. Some unheard conversation must have planned this, on the street or in the hallway or the elevator—they'd figured out some secret plot, who got what, how they would split up, and it starts here.
It's in your periphery that you see them cross, hand in hand, watching you come undone by the vixen in red. Xinyu is taking the lead, and you can see her mind working overtime to figure out what would drive you the most insane right now. She stops at the couch, centre-view, perching herself on the back of it to pull the other girl against her. Kazuha giggles in the high pitch, something that sounds too sweet to come from someone whose job it is to get men going—and maybe she does that on purpose: the look over her shoulder accompanies a feigned innocence.
Xinyu looks past her, gaze falling over Yunjin first: red dress, blood red lips, hair like a hearth-fire, and the hand moving on your cock in your unbuckled jeans. "A head start? How unfair." She rolls her eyes with all the mocking derision she can muster, but her smirk betrays her. She's pushing Kazuha by the shoulder, putting the dancer down on her knees. Even in the most compromising position possible, she looks immaculate: she sinks, legs together, ass perched on her heels. There's not a strand of hair out of place, and even in her lust, Xinyu strives to maintain the fact, so she takes care in the way she pulls Kazuha between her thighs. A gentle, fingertip hold, as she spreads her knees to frame her.
You watch with rapt attention; you can hardly look away. The whole thing is artfully posed.
Yunjin says your name, the first word you've heard from her, and you've only missed it a little. Your gaze moves to her. You expect another comment, snide, but her mouth parts, like the words have been stolen right out of it.
"You good?" You're trying to be a gentleman, if not an asshole—and it works, too; it spurs her back. She bites the corner of her lip and hums.
"Yeah, you know." A half-shrug accompanies her words as she lets you slide a strap from her shoulder. "Still waiting for you to blow my back out."
Oh. You laugh, hoarse. Yeah, that's—that's on the agenda, for sure.
It's just—the show, right across from you, has started.
Kazuha, in her performance, has Xinyu's skirt pushed up around her waist, face against her thigh, breath hot on her skin, fingers splayed over her knee to press her legs even wider. The most natural seduction; the effortless allure that laces every part of her. Her lips against skin are soft and pink, moving against the curve of the muscle, mouthing up higher. You know how that feels—travelling the vast expanse of Xinyu's long legs in search of something to bury your face in.
"She's in for a treat," Yunjin whispers.
"So am I," you return, placing a hand on Yunjin's now strapless shoulder and putting just enough weight into your hand that she knows she's going down.
"Can't promise I won't bite," she warns, in the tone that makes your throat dry, in the way you think she just might. But you've also had the image of Yunjin's head bobbing in your lap the whole cab ride home.
If there's a heaven, you'll find it in a mouth like this one: soft-lipped, warm and wet, tongue on you. You reach for the back of her neck, feel the silk of her hair under your palm as she sucks hard enough to make your hips jerk. Then there's the gentlest of grazes—her teeth on your shaft, and it makes your jaw tighten. She's all smirk and smoulder, eyes coming up to see what kind of face she's making you pull.
"Oops," she laughs.
"Fuck," Xinyu gasps, the loudest sound in the room. There's the slightest shift of Kazuha's shoulders, the way her back bows when her tongue drags from slit to clit; nose pushed up tight.
Xinyu, still leaning over the back of the couch, turns her gaze toward you, then, heavy, desperate, and dark: an intensity that hits right in the base of your stomach and twists like a dull knife.
Xinyu trades pleasured gasps for a coy remark. "Look at her go. Eats pussy like she'll starve to death without it." It's like she needs to comment on it, all casual, as if there weren't someone between her legs, making her thighs tense.
Yunjin pulls back just long enough to say, "Tell me about it." Then she goes deep enough that you see your cock hit the back of her throat. No warning. You cough out an obscenity. It's good, and it's better because of what you're looking at.
"Yeah?" Xinyu says. "Be pretty easy to cum like this, you know?" The implication hangs in the air, unaddressed.
Just like Yunjin before you, you agree. "Tell me about it."
Your girl, on the couch, her body twists again. Kazuha is making her work to keep the upper hand in all this, if there's such a thing, and she has to put conscious effort into keeping her words steady. Her focus is on you, on your face, on how your mouth opens every time Yunjin sinks her mouth to the hilt.
"Do you wanna cum like this?" Yunjin says to the underside of your dick, her hot breath against your length.
You look to Xinyu for a final answer: her head's back and her chin tilted high in a groan that fills the room, an arcing note in a rising song that starts between her thighs. Her hands grip the cushions.
"She's close," You say off-handedly. An easy observation. It doesn't answer her question.
"Could finish you so easily," Yunjin hums. You feel her words against the crown. She swirls her tongue, and you clench your fists.
"Faster than Kazuha?"
"Much faster." Yunjin grins like she's just thrown down a challenge. And you get why it works: competitive to a fault.
"No chance," Xinyu manages. There's sweat on the skin that shimmers with highlight, her chest heaving with every laboured breath, "absolutely—" Kazuha presses forward, and the rest comes out a curse. She grits out the words. "Impossible."
"Bet?" says Yunjin, her nails dug deep enough into your skin that it leaves little crescent moons.
Xinyu's head lifts. There's a smile on her face that's just shy of wicked, "I'd say winner takes all."
There are very few bets that Xinyu won't take and fewer stakes that she won't gamble with, but she's got confidence in Kazuha's ability, and time is a-ticking. Even with how wound up Yunjin's got you, watching them, it's still an even race at this point. Kazuha has a lot to prove: this is a test to see if her pretty lips and clever tongue can get her girl to the finish line faster than anyone else.
And, oh—she can taste it, can't she: Xinyu dripping wetness to her chin, her folds spread and cunt eager. The dancer's a performer of many skills: her fingers slide inside, her mouth locked in place and sucking hard until Xinyu is fucking her mouth with the back and forth of her hips. In a moment of indulgence, she presses Kazuha's face deeper, harder. It's rougher, meaner: she pushes her up tight enough that her air might just get cut off, if it weren't for the moans that slip from the singer's mouth. "God—" You think she says, and then nothing but sharp inhale and the jolt of her hips that has Kazuha's nails in the flesh of her inner thighs.
Yunjin's picking up the slack on you. Maybe to wipe the smirk from your girlfriend's face, or maybe she just really wants your cum down her throat. That's fine. You're not opposed.
Mouth briefly replaced by hand, strokes hard and tight, so she can talk and please. "Better cum in me soon. You'll lose." She winks. She's not wrong, and she sucks in her next breath like she knows it. That mouth on you again.
Let's be real. Let's not get it twisted. You win. You always win.
Xinyu will cum first. It's one of those facts in life. Death, taxes and Xinyu's climaxes.
It starts in her chest—a hitch that becomes a heavy rise and fall, a moan from deep in her throat. Her body follows it: every limb taut like strings in a bow. Tension: her head back to the sky and the arch in her back like a crescent. Her legs start to shake. It's there that you feel your blood thrumming, the adrenaline that starts that climb before your fall, and Yunjin takes her cue to speed things up on her end as Xinyu tumbles over on hers. Her thighs tense, tight, trembling.
"Oh—oh fuck—Kazuha." Xinyu moaning another woman's name always has a certain kind of kick to it, even more so with you down Yunjin's throat. She's never shy about this. Never timid. Always, unabashedly, the way it is with you and how she'll scream and cry for it, for the orgasm that wracks her like an electric current.
Kazuha has no interest in easing her down: the pads of her fingertips work her open, pumping inside, tongue flat to lap against the pulsing heat, riding her through each wave and crest, drawing them longer, higher. Xinyu's shaking with the overstimulation, hands in hair, but not pulling back.
"God. Fuck, Kazuha—" This time, there's the edge of desperation to it, so close to pleading for it to stop.
There's a moment when you lock your eyes. Xinyu looking through the strands of her dark hair that stick to her cheeks, and the sweat that glosses her forehead, the flush on her skin, her lipstick smeared in places. And that smile, her wicked grin in full bloom. Her breath coming in shallow heaving puffs. Kazuha is slowing. Stilling.
You've been teetering close to that razor's edge, the precipice of it, but there was only ever going to be one winner. Yunjin pulls her mouth from you and she has no idea just how close you were, just how cruel the denial, as she stands.
You say her name as a question: why would she ever fucking stop?
Her mouth to your ear, and you feel her smirking again, her teeth against the shell: "You lost," she murmurs.
"You lost," Xinyu echoes from across the room. She pushes Kazuha away, legs still unsteady, as she slides from the couch to her feet and straightens out the fabric of her dress. You watch as Kazuha touches the gloss of her lip and sucks it off her finger. Her smile is soft and warm when she gets to her feet. It's like a stage; everything posed: Xinyu and Kazuha, standing side-by-side and arms entwined.
"Second place," says Xinyu, looking you right in the eyes.
"I get it," you say. Your cock stands at full mast. "You don't need to remind me."
"Oh," she grins, leaning against the dancer, "I absolutely do." Her hand touches Kazuha's chin and lifts, kissing her deep, tongues dancing against one another's. When Xinyu's teeth drag along her bottom lip, you know she must be able to taste herself. "She's real good. Though I do wonder what her girlfriend is like," she whispers as she eyes Yunjin.
Kazuha speaks up. "She can definitely make a girl cum." She speaks with such nonchalance as if she's discussing the weather or what brand her shampoo is and not the way she's had Yunjin eating out of her cunt.
Kazuha is a professional; it's no surprise to hear she knows how to get a girl to see god, and it's no surprise that anyone she lays with has to be on top of their game. Xinyu knows, too. She grins, and she laughs, and she holds her waist like Kazuha's some sort of prize, and it's just so Xinyu, this display. "Lucky us." She touches a hand to the dancer's hip. She says to Yunjin, "We oughta try her out."
"You're going to leave him hanging?" says Yunjin, running a hand down your chest dangerously low before taking it back, a gentle press of lips on your jaw. "That's not very fair."
"He can help you out, right?" Xinyu offers, gesturing in your direction with one of those looks in her eyes. You know that one. "Make us cum." And her hand slips to the swell of Kazuha's breast, groping greedily. It's a demand that comes out as a suggestion.
Kazuha whispers something inaudible to Xinyu's ears and it must've been good because the woman hums, intrigued, the smile on her mouth turning wider and more mischievous by the second. They both take a step, both reach out, Kazuha takes your wrist and Xinyu takes Yunjin's. Wordlessly, they take you away from the kitchen and to the window: the massive wall of windows that line your apartment with the city behind.
"I want the world to see," Kazuha explains. "To wish they were you."
"Sounds a little cheesy," you quip.
"Sounds hot," Xinyu retorts as she places her hands on the glass. She bends forward so that the swell of her ass pushes out against the hem of her skirt, and against Yunjin, who is standing right behind her. "Don't you think, babe?" she teases Yunjin.
"Very," Yunjin says. She moves her fingers along the seams of Xinyu's body, finding their way underneath her top. You hear Xinyu breathe out through her mouth. Yunjin moves closer to Xinyu's ear and bites it. "But the only ones that'll actually get to touch you, to taste you... that'll be us, huh?" She moves her fingers along the waistband of her skirt.
Xinyu turns her head back at her, smiling. "They'll be able to see how well I can take it, too. You'll let them see, won't you?"
Kazuha perches in front of you, spreading her fingers out against the glass, lowering her shoulders, arching her spine and lifting her ass to the sky for your taking. In an instant, you're on your knees and appreciating her for everything she's worth. "You don't need to be a gentleman. Just go for it. You already had the courtesy earlier," she tells you as you move closer.
"Can't I take a moment to appreciate you first?" you reply.
"Do you have to?" Her laugh is half a moan, and she's pulling up her own dress. "Are you so infatuated by the sight of me? Because, believe me—" and her words are cut off as you sink your teeth into her cheeks, your fingertips pressing tight into the skin at her hip— "you've seen more than most get to."
You run a hand up the expanse of her thigh. "Savouring every moment," you hum into her skin.
"How romantic," she laughs. There are the smallest noises in the back of her throat that come with your touch as you caress her ass. Fingers into flesh, gentle pressure until you feel her roll against it. The perfect ass. The kind people would kill for.
You hear Xinyu gasp, the sharp breath: Yunjin's got her face pressed hard between Xinyu's spread thighs from behind. "Y'know—" your girl manages between moaning pants, "wasn't sure what to expect. This isn't how we usually do things." She's trying to hold the conversation together while Yunjin works to make a ruin of it. Xinyu braces herself against the glass. "Two girls at once is a pretty good score."
"I'd call it that," you hum in agreement as you pull Kazuha's delicate panties down her thighs.
"The two of you do this often?" Yunjin asks between licking Xinyu's dripping cunt and then slapping an ass cheek hard, enough to sting. It leaves an angry pink imprint on the flesh of her. Xinyu hisses, her fingers curling against the glass as she struggles to hold herself steady. Kazuha arches her spine to give you better access.
"See them all the time," Kazuha gently laughs, the breathiest moan breaking her sentence up, and she rocks herself back against you. "Taking someone home before my show even ends."
Xinyu's eyes open, and her vision is clear. She looks over her shoulder. Her hips are slow, riding the tongue that pushes deeper inside. Her voice is steady, and she's trying hard not to let Yunjin catch her completely, though the pressure on the glass betrays her. "Been keeping an eye on us, hm?"
You're dragging your tongue against Kazuha, circling around the wetness between her legs. You taste the sweet musk of her, and then you drag the flat of your tongue along the folds. She hums with a laugh that sounds a little breathier, more strained. Your tongue moves deeper, dipping into the parting of flesh, to taste the soft, velvet feel of her, the slick heat that comes with her arousal.
"You're not exactly subtle. Hard not to notice."
You push a little firmer, face into her ass, tasting the deepest parts of her and as she shifts on her knees, she lowers a hand to your hair and grabs a handful of it, keeping you where she needs you, fingers curled around the strands and the sting that follows. You hear the noise she makes, the way she shivers under your attention. It feels good.
"We have a fan," Xinyu jokes, but her laughter is cut off by a moan as Yunjin sucks harder on the soft folds between her legs. "Maybe two." There's the sound of skin hitting skin, and then a gasp. You know the sounds of Xinyu when her skin is slapped, or her flesh is bit.
Yunjin's hands roam her body freely. They're everywhere: touching, teasing. Her nails scratch and drag, and Xinyu groans when teeth meet her inner thigh again.
Kazuha is dripping against your chin now. Every lick sends another jolt up her spine, and every circle against her sensitive clit has her moaning. You squeeze her ass. She rocks forward. "Mhm..." Her lips part, and her jaw goes slack.
"What a pretty fucking mess," you hum against the wetness.
Xinyu takes Kazuha by the chin, pulling her into a kiss, and there's no way for anyone else to appreciate how beautiful they look against each other. Xinyu runs a hand up into Kazuha's hair, and her hips are still grinding, still pushing down onto Yunjin's mouth. "I'm gonna cum if she doesn't stop."
"Cum with me?" Kazuha says. It sounds desperate, almost needy in its demand: an urgency to share this. To do it together.
It doesn't sound like a bad idea at all.
"Not stopping," is the last thing Yunjin says as she continues to feast. You think she might have a point to prove, but if that means she wants to eat a pussy that good, then so be it. Your mouth works Kazuha faster: you spread the folds with your fingers and go to work on her clit. Your teeth catch the sensitive flesh, and she shakes with it, thighs threatening to tremble and tense, a strangled cry falling from her lips that she smothers by moaning it right into Xinyu's lips.
The taste of Kazuha on your tongue is something you'll never get tired of. Her sweet juice spills over, and when she arches, she cums harder, cries out louder until finally, her knees start to shake. That's how it starts, and with her orgasm comes Xinyu's too. There's a moment when the two are tangled together, when the sounds that fall out of them echo each other's. Their voices meet, their moans mix, and their tongues clash in their kiss, like they can't bear to keep any distance from one another. It's intimate, even amidst the other mouths on them. Even as Yunjin and you coax them through it. When it passes, the two cling onto each other, holding each other up, both of them trembling with the aftermath of a shared bliss.
Kazuha falls first: with a slow slump she sinks down to the floor, falling away from your hungry mouth and onto her hands and knees on the hardwood. She pants, heavy breaths, her head bowed, her hair in her eyes. There's a contented hum to the room as it all begins to settle down. Kazuha turns to you: there's that gorgeous smile, as she pushes back hair from her face. Her makeup is smudged. Her lipstick's a mess.
Xinyu follows after, but not without first stroking Yunjin's hair and kissing her, thanking her. Xinyu falls into Kazuha's embrace, the two of them holding each other up on the floor. Their heads are on one another's shoulders.
You lose your balance to a hard push. Your ass hitting the ground hard, sitting flat on the hardwood.
"Your turn." Yunjin grins, a hand pushing at the centre of your chest, keeping you from rising.
"You're going to do that right here?"
She grins at you. "Right now."
From here on out, it's just an inevitable, sordid decline into depravity. There is no message here, no moral, no meaning beyond the mindless, the reckless. There's nothing profound about the way Yunjin slips the other strap off her shoulder and pulls the material down to her waist to expose her braless chest. There's no wisdom in the way she moves into your lap, arms hooked over your shoulders.
No revelations come from how her bare pussy slides against the head of your cock. No matters of the world solved by the way you grope her tits in your palms. Nothing poetic about the sound that slips between her pretty red lips when you enter her cunt. This is just the way things are. This is barely a footnote on the night, not an epic climax. It's not a resolution or a denouement. Just another impending orgasm. You're just lucky you're at the centre of it all.
"Give us a show, won't you?" Xinyu murmurs.
Yunjin's got a smile on her lips that says, sure, sure, I can do that. She puts her hands on your chest, pinning you against the ground, her hips lifting and rolling as she slides you in and out of herself. "You think we should thank them? The people in the toilets?"
"Why's that?"
"Well, we'd have gone in there." Yunjin pushes her hips down hard onto you to punctuate her sentence. "We'd have fucked." She's taking control here: riding you in the centre of the hardwood floor. "You'd have cum." Another roll of the hips. "In me. On me." She gasps, moans. "That would have been that." It's all being said so nonchalantly. "But now, it's like this."
You laugh a little as you watch the woman ride you for all you're worth. "It's fitting," you say as you push yourself up from the floor, sitting face-to-face with the woman riding you. "Because you deserve so much more than a quickie on a dirty toilet." You wrap an arm around the small of her back. "And I'd much rather take my time with you." You buck your hips up into her, commandeering the rhythm as your pace starts to climb. You drive into her, pounding hard, as you bury your face between her breasts.
There are the smallest of noises that break free from Yunjin: the whines that get trapped behind her throat and the moans that slip between her teeth. She lets you handle her, and the only sound she makes is that soft whimpering and that sharp hiss when your fingers grip tight at her skin, and when her body slams down against your cock, you feel her tense and then shake around your shaft, squeezing and clamping down hard. She stifles her sounds.
"You good?" you whisper. She doesn't answer. At least, not at first. She gives herself a moment to catch her breath, as her nails drag across your shoulder blade.
She moans out a reply. "Oh yeah. So good. I'm so—" her words trail into a hiss of a breath.
You push her onto her back, pinning her to the ground as she laughs, arms above her head and eyes on yours, as you pick the pace back up again. "Show's still on," Xinyu says, somewhere on your peripheries.
"He fucks like a..." Kazuha whispers, unable to find the right words.
"I know," Xinyu laughs, before leaning in to kiss at Kazuha's jaw. "Doesn't he just?" The words are barely a whisper in her ear.
There's this shift in your periphery, Xinyu taking a place on the floor, her hand behind Kazuha's head as she spreads her legs again. It's rare you've found anyone who can keep up with Xinyu, but tonight's proven to be the exception. Kazuha's on all fours, leaning in for another taste. The sight has you groan.
Yunjin laughs at that, pulling your face back to hers, her legs wrapping around your hips, locking behind your back as she pulls you into her. "Don't get distracted now, honey," she says. Her fingertips trace along the muscles in your shoulders. Her lips curl up into a smile as her body shivers underneath yours, and you can feel it: that sweet clamping down of her pussy around your cock, and you know that she's close to coming again.
"Got an idea," you whisper.
"Wait, wait—" Yunjin claws at your back, holding you closer, tighter. "Just let me—" and you feel it. Her wet heat coating your length, pulsing. You roll her into it, feel the slick mess as her hips twist against the hardwood. She shakes, head thrown back, eyes fluttering shut, and lips parted. "There we go. Now, idea?"
"Come here." It's seamless, the way you move her around and behind Kazuha, positioning her face right against her girlfriend's ass. "Doesn't that look so good?"
"Beautiful," she says.
"Bet you eat that ass every chance you get, I know I would."
"Me too," Xinyu chimes.
"Yeah?" Yunjin says as she traces her hands along Kazuha's hips and curves, the lines that make her. She touches her thighs, and then she moves her fingertips to the cheeks of her ass. "Well." A kiss on the flesh of it. "You know. She does have such a pretty ass," she whispers.
"You both do," you reply as you mimic Yunjin's touches on her own ass.
She smiles into the skin, pressing more soft kisses along it. Her fingernails dig in gently as her mouth presses a little harder against it. Yunjin drags her nails over it, making marks. Yunjin moans softly, burying her mouth deeper between the cheeks. Kazuha arches with a moan of her own, rocking back. Yunjin sinks deeper, eating her girlfriend's ass like it was the last meal she'd have for days. The sounds are wet and hungry. Her moans are muffled as her mouth does its work. "God..." Yunjin groans into the flesh. Her hands roam up to Kazuha's sides, and she digs her fingers in and holds her, rocking the woman's hips against her face. It's like she can't get enough, and the taste must be so fucking intoxicating.
You're back inside Yunjin, the end of the train. She shivers again, moans again. Her nails drag up the small of Kazuha's back, marking the line of her spine with the gentle red trails. Her teeth scrape against Kazuha's skin, and she presses the pad of her tongue between her asscheeks again.
Yunjin's dress is still bunched at the waist, you bunch it and then hold it firm: it pulls tight across her toned stomach and gives you a handle, a grip to hold. You thrust into her, hard. She groans into Kazuha, and in turn, Kazuha gasps into Xinyu.
You hear Xinyu moaning, a note that arcs and echoes and then tapers off again. Kazuha is humming, soft and quiet, and Yunjin groans deeply. When the three of you all start to sync up, to fall into one steady beat, it feels right. It's everything falling together. Waves on the sand.
Xinyu is gasping; her head is back, and her throat is exposed, and her body is writhing with pleasure. She has her fingers buried in Kazuha's hair, clutching at it desperately, as she rocks back onto her tongue, onto her mouth, her hips bucking erratically. You're fucking Yunjin in slow and deep thrusts that have her moaning and shuddering, her fingers gripping hard into the dancer's thighs, and she's eating that ass with hunger, her own body responding to each motion of your hips in a ripple of a wave that runs up her spine, one after the next after the next.
This was never meant to last. There is no way.
You're on edge. Xinyu's on the precipice, and Kazuha is shaking.
There is no way, you say it again, and that's how your mind feels: unsteady, untethered, and it's in that haze that you slip your free hand to Yunjin's hip and guide it under her, have her press two fingers into the slickness that's so familiar, that she knows so well. You tell her. "Make your girlfriend cum." It's not an order. You've no authority here, in the mess that this has become, but she does, doesn't she: she's the only one who could get someone to sing for the world to see.
It's just seconds after when she slips the digits up inside that the woman is shaking, her back arching, and she's moaning in tandem with the way her hips roll back on you. Yunjin's fingers plunge deeper inside, and Kazuha shivers in delight. And then there's the smallest cry of a sound, and she's spilling wet onto the hand that keeps pushing her down. "You're so beautiful, Kazu," Yunjin murmurs, the words muffled by how she's buried her face between those cheeks, she's so damn close to her own climax. Kazuha is trembling, shaking. She moans out her release into Xinyu's wet cunt.
Thighs clamp hard on Kazuha's head. "Yes—" Xinyu cries out, as her hips rock upwards, bucking on Kazuha's mouth as she rides the orgasm hard, hands at her own breasts, groping greedily as her tongue drags her bottom lip under white, teeth bared: it's like a growl, almost, or a snarl, her eyes open wide, but staring right through everything.
And that's what pushes you over. You grab hard onto Yunjin's hip, the bunched fabric of her dress. Your fingernails drag against her flesh as you rut into her, hips thrusting again and again. She can't help the gasp, the sound, as your nails scrape deep into her thigh. She's so sensitive. The skin so soft and so receptive to touch. That noise turns into a moan. You know the sounds of her now. She doesn't need to tell you. You know. The pace of her breathing changes, and you hear the breathy little whimpers. When she gasps and when her cunt flutters, you can tell that she's close. And you know, when she cums because of the shuddering that runs up her body, the tensing of her muscles and that moaning that starts low and quiet before it grows, and then it explodes out of her in a sudden burst, like fireworks.
Xinyu's curling a finger. A beckon. You have a place to take, kneeling over her, and a finish that she demands.
"You know what to do, don't you?" she teases, a laugh on the tip of her tongue: that sharp and mischievous smirk, and the eyes that gleam in the light.
"I do."
She turns her gaze on the couple on the floor, the girls who've sunk onto one another. You can hear Yunjin laughing. Kazuha's fingers trail over her face, tracing the outline. "Go ahead," Xinyu says to you: not permission but expectation.
She presents her face as if it's a canvas and, yeah, sure, maybe you've done this more times than you can count, but you've still got your hand on your dick and the other on the back of Xinyu's neck, rubbing like it's the first time, and—
There it goes.
"God," Yunjin groans, "that's pretty."
Kazuha's contented hum agrees. They both reach a hand out to run their fingers across the mess of your cum, spreading it across the smooth expanse of skin, painting their art of Xinyu. There are no lines, no patterns, just the abstract swirl and the smearing that follows.
"Should take a photo," Kazuha suggests. "For posterity's sake."
"Too late," Yunjin mutters as she leans in to lick at the slick of white on the woman's cheek.
Soon, they're both at it, cleaning your girlfriend like she was the world's finest delicacy. And she basks in the attention. The centre of it. She's used to that kind of spotlight, though you don't think anyone shines as bright as her.
Yunjin takes a mouthful, opening to show the white on her tongue, and then her lips collide with Xinyu's. The cum is passed, tongue-to-tongue, a kiss shared. They share it with each other, a kiss that is truly sordid. You hear Kazuha's moan of excitement before you even realise what's happening: she joins in, making the kiss a trio. Three mouths passing your cum back and forth and the sound of their soft moans of delight.
It's hard to fathom that this is only the beginning. It's almost as difficult to comprehend just how far it's already gone, and the truth, as you see it, is that it doesn't need to make sense. Some nights are destined for excess. Nights like these. With a trio like this. You're not asking for any answers: all you're asking is that the four of you sink deeper, lose yourself to it.
The girls break the kiss, and Xinyu says, "You know, he has this walk-in shower. The big kind." You can hear the smirk in her tone like she knows just the kind of trouble she'll cause with her words.
"Yeah? I bet we could all fit in it," Kazuha hums, and there's that look of hers again, a little devious but mostly playful: a look of a girl who just wants to please everyone she comes into contact with. She can't seem to get enough, and she's just dying for a taste of more. Her hands slide along both women's waists, pulling them in a tighter embrace. Xinyu looks at you.
"You did always say—"
"I did."
"And, honestly, there's no better—"
"I know," you tell her, climbing to your feet and holding out a hand. "Come on."
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kdinjenzen · 3 days ago
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I think saying things like “you could be a girl if you weren’t a coward” is kind of fucked up if I'm to be honest.
And acting like that is some kind of profound hard truth for some trans women is even fucking more mean coming from another trans woman.
I cannot even begin to tell you the horrors my family put me through when they thought I was a straight cis boy, it was horrifying. What's more I knew my family hated queer people of all kinds so any hint of that was met with more violence, more hatred, and viciousness that I don't really want to go into.
So if you are going around telling other trans women how "it's so easy to" or "you're a coward if" or any of that rhetoric... you're just an asshole.
It is NOT just that easy. Hell it can be hard even WITH a supportive family for some folks.
I know a lot of people say “you could be a girl if you weren’t a coward” "FOR THE MEMES" but it's fucked up and discouraging to be told you're a coward for something that, ESPECIALLY NOW, is a very scary thing to do or be publicly (or even privately tbh).
The least we can do is be nice to each other and not belittle each other with petty mean spirited highschool bullshit like that.
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inkedinshadows · 19 hours ago
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Brooding, Cuddly Shadowsinger
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Pairing: Azriel x f!reader
A/N: thank you @pey2618 for this one! It was such a cute idea and I love it! I'm always down bad for soft Az. Note: i just finished writing it (it's 11pm here) after a full day of classes, so forgive me if there are mistakes or typos
Prompts: "You're not so scary after all, are you?" + "You're my new pillow now." + reader and az are out somewhere and he is all broody and scares ppl away but when they are home he is as sweet as a marshmallow
Warnings: none! Just fluff
Word count: 824
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The party was going well. For you, at least.
When your friend had told you that you could bring Azriel along, you said you would ask, fully believing he'd decline. Instead, he'd agreed to come with you as soon as you mentioned it.
You were sure he was now regretting that decision.
When you were beside him, everything was fine. His hand was on your knee if you were sitting on the couch, on your back when you stood. But whenever you left his side—to get a drink, to dance, to talk with the other guests—it was like a bubble enveloped him. He became quiet, his brows knitted together, and he looked at people as if they might suddenly turn out to be an enemy he needed to fight. Even his shadows were restless, swirling around his shoulders and wings like a dark tempest, calming only when you joined him again and yet never disappearing completely. The all-black clothes definitely didn't help his case.
You couldn't blame people for avoiding him. And when you passed by two girls on your way back from the toilet, you couldn't help but chuckle as you caught a snippet of their conversation.
“I don't really know how she does it.”
“Well, he's very handsome.”
“Yes, but he's terrifying. Just look at him!”
“Yeah, he kinda is…”
You walked up to Azriel, a smile already on your lips. “You're scaring people off.”
His face softened as soon as he saw you, and he shifted to a more relaxed stance, his shadows settling down. But at your words, he frowned. “I'm not doing anything.”
You crossed your arms and looked him up and down. “You're standing here, just brooding.”
Azriel's gaze swept around the room. Some guests quickly looked away from him.
“Why would that scare people?” he asked when his eyes settled on you again.
“Because you're the big, infamous Shadowsinger?” you replied with a teasing smirk. “The High Lord's Spymaster?”
Azriel rolled his eyes, but his lips curled up at the corners. Before he could say anything, you playfully patted his arm.
“Try not to scare too many people, okay?” you quipped. “I'll be right back.”
His expression fell, and for just a moment, he reminded you of a lost puppy. “Why? Where are you going?”
“To say goodbye to everyone.” You were already stepping away, people parting to let you through after a quick glance at Azriel. “I'm taking you home.”
~~~~~~
Not even an hour later, you were back in your room, ready for the night.
Azriel was already in bed. As soon as you slipped under the covers, his arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer. He rested his head on your chest, right on the soft swell of your breasts, his eyes closed as he let out a content sigh.
You laughed softly. “Are you comfy enough?”
He hummed. “Yes. You're my new pillow now.”
You laughed again, shifting just enough to find a comfortable position without disturbing him. Your fingers tangled in his dark curls, while the other hand came to rest on the nape of his neck.
Azriel melted in your arms as every ounce of lingering tension from the day left his body. His shadows vanished, and his wings splayed out above the sheets, covering you like a second blanket. You swore he purred like a cat when you began gently massaging his scalp.
There he was—the big, infamous Shadowsinger who had terrified everyone at the party just hours earlier.
“You're not so scary after all, are you?” you murmured. “Those people just didn't know you like I do.”
He nuzzled into your chest, his voice already groggy as he mumbled, “No one knows me like you do, love.”
You smiled and kissed the top of his head. “That's right. Just me.”
With another soft sigh, Azriel settled against you. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, his long eyelashes tickling you every time his eyes fluttered.
The party had drained him, despite the fact that he hadn't danced or interacted that much. But being around so many people could be overwhelming for him, especially when in an environment so different from what he was used to. Yet he had still come with you.
“Why did you come to the party?” you asked quietly.
Azriel’s arms tightened around you. “Wanted to be with you,” he mumbled, the words blurring together.
He was adorable. Utterly, sickeningly adorable.
“Go to sleep,” you murmured. “I love you.”
You felt his small smile against your skin as he whispered, “Love you too…”
You continued stroking his hair, holding him close to your heart, right where he belonged.
To others, he might be scary. Terrifying, even. The Shadowsinger, the Spymaster, the one no one truly knew.
But to you, he was this—a sweet, cuddly male who needed the comfort of his mate's embrace.
To you, he was just Az.
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Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34
1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness
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shaisuki · 2 days ago
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“Caleb?”
“What is it, pipsqueak?”
“Have you ever kissed someone?”
You asked him out of the blue while munching on the snack he bought for you. Seated on the stairs at the front of the store. The wind's cold. A telltale sign of the night to come. The skies are purplish with hues of orange and red. The can of soda sweats with condensation. Leaving a imprint of it on the concrete floor.
“What about it, pipsqueak?”
Caleb brows furrow at the sudden question. You were both in high school and neither of the romance stuff were discussed except when you both watched a romance drama that aired on the evening. He didn't even know you were interested.
”No. I mean that's normal. You're popular with girls and I know you must kissed one of them right? Riiight?”
Absentmindedly crinkling a wrapper of the candy and Caleb can hear the crunch of the packaging. A amused laugh escaped Caleb's lips. Turning his body to face you and resting his jaw to his palm. His elbow leaning on his knees.
He stares at your side profile. Studying how your eyelashes flutter and the dimple surfacing on your round cheek. A small pout in your plump lips.
“I haven't kissed anyone, pipsqueak.”
“For real? Nah, you're kidding me.”
Caleb's smile grew wider when you whipped your head to see if he was really serious. Your face scrunched up while you eye him suspiciously.
It was the truth. He gets it. He was Mr. Popular among his peers and there's the endless stream of girls who tried to get on his good graces. However he can't bring himself to like the attention. Sure, it was good that he can count on them and he knows you're going to be cool about it but it feels wrong.
“I'm not interested, pipsqueak.” Caleb assures you. Patting your head in a affectionate manner like he always did. His palm hold your round cheek. Caressing the skin with his thumb and his aura gets serious all of a sudden. “What made you ask me that kind of question?”
“A classmate asked me if you have a girlfriend and then if you did the lovey-dovey stuff with a girl. I told her I don't know and....” Your eyes squint for a little bit. The gears in your head turning. “— that's why I asked you about it.” You explained.
Caleb pinched your cheek. If Caleb wants to be honest with you right now. He will say he wants to kiss you, first. His eyes landing on your lips. He fought the urge to run his thumb in your lips for he might regret what he's about to do next. It's to kiss you. Taste the sweetness of the candy in your lips and feel the softness of your lips that will linger for days to come.
Caleb wants you, needs you to be his firsts. It's the way it is most special cause he shared it with you and he knows you're inexperienced too and what's better to be each other's firsts, if you'll allow it.
“Pipsqueak, do you want to be kissed?” His voice suddenly serious. The streetlight casting a glow behind them and from the angle where you look at him. Caleb's expression grew darker. The knowledge that you're going to be kissed someone that is not him — brings a pain that he can never recover.
“Someday, Caleb. Someday.” You mutter and Caleb smiles, cause that someday is the day when he will finally get to kiss you. A real kiss. Not the indirect kisses from having to share cans of soda or tasting another one's food. You didn't even know that.
Caleb and you stayed for a bit. Watching as nightfall envelops the whole city. Contented at the peace and quiet with the conversation gone in your mind except for Caleb who burned the memory. He's contented for now.
He can be patient towards you and when the time comes, it's not only a kiss from you but the whole you, body and soul.
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hoshifighting · 3 days ago
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hiii, so imagine OT13 head canons in which they are rough but soft at the same time, like deepthroat while stroking your hair, or pounding while holding hands
how seventeen mix soft and rough at sex
WARNINGS: smut, +18
seungcheol: fucks you like a ragdoll, talks to you like you're a whore, holds your face like youre made of glass. his hands cradling your face like you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever touched. “so fucking pretty, my little slut, do you like when im destroying this pussy like this huh?” and when you try to look away, all shy, his thumbs tilt your chin back to him, forcing you to meet his eyes. “don’t hide from me~~~ let me see you drip cum around my cock.”
jeonghan: taunting at first, tilting your chin up like some princess-movie to make you look at him while he fucks into you balls deep, his grip firm in your hair. “what, baby? too much?” he coos, but his free hand is tracing delicate lines down your arm, llips brushing over yours like a secret, his next thrust knocking the air from your lungs.
joshua: he’s got you spread out beneath him, your ankles over his shoulders, deep inside you, his hands gripping your waist so tight it’s gonna bruise. he presses a kiss to your knee, then another to your ankle, eyes warm despite the filthy things he’s doing to you.
junhui: hand is firm in your hair, “mm, love hearing you like this.” and when you tense up, hands grabbing at his arms, he laughs, but it’s sweet, i feel like he gives this fun sex vibes, where you laugh, cum and feel loved at the same time (really hard to not fall in love for him in a situationship).
hoshi: will fuck you hard, with a cute and protective talk. he’s gets your back arched, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your waist, keeping you still as he pounds into you. “baby, baby, baby—fuck. you okay, love? still with me? want some water? a pause? no? should i continue? okay, i got you.”
wonwoo: will be touching you, caressing you all the time. arm locked around your waist, keeping you close as he fucks up into you. “shh, baby.” his other hand it’s everywhere—sliding up your back, gripping your ass, threading through your hair, like he can’t get enough of touching you.
woozi: listen to me: CHEST-TO-CHEST PRESS. if he has been mean and overstimulates you, for example, and you're squirming, or overwhelmed, he will press you down the bed with his tiddies, making you stay in place. BUT in a softer case, he will do it if you need some grounding, if you are getting in subspace... he will make sure you're protected/shielded by his big body.
minghao: fucks you rough as fuck, but trails the points of his fingers to make you shiver! of course that you can shiver from the very action of his cock sliding in and out of you, but he loves doing this because he gets so hard at the sight of you squirming under the tips of his digits.
mingyu: i feel like he would give you a desperate forhead kiss in the middle of it. he will be destroying your insides, and then he kisses your forehead, keeping his mouth there, because he gets so soft when he is about to cum. “so fucking perfect, baby.”
seokmin: he will be doing all types of stimulaton down there. masturbating your clit, fucking your pussy while you are using a plug. WHILE DOING THAT LITTLE NOSES CARESSES, tickles, strokes, fondles, i don't know what to call it.
seungkwan: eye-contact-obsession??????? needs to see you. has your face FRAMED in his hands, forcing you to look at him, even when it’s too much. “uh-uh, baby. no hiding.” his thumb brushes over your cheek, his gaze locked onto yours, and when your eyes threaten to flutter shut—he tuts, tilting your chin back up. “nah, keep ‘em open. lemme see you.”
vernon: will wrap his big hand around your neck, in a very romantic way—just like he does when he is kissing you—,but would end up choking you at the end. making you feel very surprised when he moves from a caressing and light wrap, to a tighter and sexier one.
chan: fucks you hard until you see the bulge of his enormous cock on your belly, and then caresses the bulge with his thumb. cutely. too cutely, like you arent crying, squirming, screaming, wetting the bed over it.
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woso-dreamzzz · 3 days ago
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Loud II
Mapi León x Reader x Ingrid Engen
Summary: You really need to stay quiet
*TW: light sexual content*
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You whine into Mapi's mouth as she kisses you, tongue slipping into your mouth easily as you try to get even closer to her, sat atop her lap and rocking.
"Don't be too loud," Ingrid warns from her sport on the armchair in the corner, a light flush to her cheeks as she watches, chest heaving with pants," Or we'll have unwanted visitors."
You and Mapi don't really listen though.
You're usually good listeners, to Ingrid at least, but your noise levels can never be policed.
Especially if you're unbuttoning Mapi's shirt and gently running your fingers over her bare skin.
She gasps into your mouth, head tipping back to moan when you move to attach your lips to her neck.
"Another hickey?" Ingrid asks from her spot watching you both, legs thrown over the arms of the seat casually like she's watching her favourite show.
She probably is.
"Make sure to really mark her up," She continues," So she remembers what's going to happen tonight."
Mapi's hips jerk upwards when you suck at a particularly sensitive part of her neck. Her moans turn more into a whine, high pitched and loud as you bite down with a smug smirk.
"Don't make me come over there and gag you," Ingrid warns, eyes flashing with something deliciously dangerous at the threat.
It wouldn't be the first time she'd threatened to do that. It wouldn't be the first time she'd followed through either.
She'd have to be creative though. She certainly hadn't packed what she usually uses at home for this trip but you'd always enjoyed when Ingrid got a bit creative.
Especially when you could watch her get creative with Mapi, who threads her fingers through your hair to keep you at that sensitive spot.
"You...You try to be quiet when you've got an angel sucking at your neck," Mapi pants out, whining when you grind more firmly onto her lap.
"An angel?" You grin against her skin," Clearly, I'm not doing this right if you think I'm an angel." You look into her eyes and wink. "After all, I'm just warming you up for Ingrid."
You go back to sucking on her neck, littering Mapi with hickeys as her head raises to look at Ingrid, completely relaxed and only a little flushed from her seat in the corner watching.
"I-"
She's cut off though by the sharp rapping of knuckles on the door and you both freeze, heads trying to strain around the corner like you suddenly gained x-ray vision to see who could be waiting on the other side.
"Why did you stop?" Ingrid asks, elegantly getting to her feet with a smile.
"We..." You say," There's someone at the door..."
"Yes. That doesn't explain why you stopped."
"But the door-"
"I'll get the door," Ingrid waves a dismissive hand. "And I want you both suitably warmed up for me by the time I'm back." She winks. "You two will just have to be very quiet."
It doesn't sound like a difficult task but the moment Mapi's lips are on yours again, you know both of you are struggling to choke down the moans and whines threatening to spill out.
"Ingrid." It's Alexia's voice that you hear when the door is finally swung open.
"Alexia?" Ingrid replies and you can just tell she'll be wearing that confused face that she's perfected so well just for situations like these. "What is it? I thought we were done for the day. Have we missed a meeting?"
"No," Alexia says," No, nothing like that. Listen, I have no issues if you're going to let Mapi and y/n play cards but, please, can you tell them to quieten down?
You clumsily grind down against Mapi and she bites at your lip to force herself not to let a moan slip out.
"I can try," Ingrid lies," But you know how they get when they're playing cards. I can't always keep them quiet."
"So long as you try," Alexia agrees," Even just a tiny bit quieter? The walls are thick so it's not terrible but even just a little less noise will be appreciated."
"I'll make sure they're quieter," Ingrid promises, drumming her fingers on the door just as you drag Mapi into another heated kiss," Is that it?"
"That's it," Alexia says," Thanks."
"No problem."
The minute you hear the door swing shut, Mapi moans into your mouth, hands on your hips trying to guide your grinding exactly where she needs you.
"So," Ingrid says as she crawls onto the bed behind you, hooking her chin over your shoulder and pushing you and Mapi a tad more firmly together," It looks like you two might really get gagged after all."
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mxtantrights · 3 days ago
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Azriel is (secretly) in love with you
"If it were anyone else, you would let them go." you grumble.
Rhys sighs and sets down both his utensils. The table goes silent.
No one could get into a fight like the two of you. Perks of knowing each other since you were children. Rhys is like the little brother you never wanted, but really treasured. And you were like the older sister he never asked for, but really needed. Especially after his mother and sister were brutally taken from him and his father died.
Which is how you now that he's treating you differently. If it were Azriel or Cassian asking to go on this mission he would happy oblige. If it were Feyre he might hesitate but he would let her do it. Mor or Amren he would let them do it. Nesta, well he doesn't tell her what to do ever. And Elaine, if she wanted to do something like this you think he might watch in shock. Never mind the valkyries.
"So you understand, great." he says sassily.
You slam the table, "Stop being rude. I deserve to go on this mission. I deserve what I'm owed."
"What makes you think-"
"I'm owed the head of the man who massacred my family. I am owed Rhysand!" you shout.
"Maybe we can come back to this conversation-" Cassian starts.
You and Rhys look at him in an instant. "Butt out Cass."
Cassian puts his hands up in surrender. You grunt and apologize to him. He nods his head once and places his hands down. You look over at Rhys.
"I'm going. Whether you want me to or not. I'm not asking for permission." you speak.
You stand up from your seat and storm out of family dinner. Something you have never done before. You know how important it is to Rhys and it's important to you too. But you know that tensions are high and you might say something you can't take back.
Its a long walk to your room. And as you sit on the edge of your bed you can't help to think to yourself about the circumstances. If this were Rhys, if he could go after Tamlin you wouldn't stop him. You'd help him.
So why does he not want you anywhere near this?
Your door opens and you green yourself up for a fight, thinking it's Rhys. But when your eyes meet Azriel's you deflate a little bit. Actually a lot. You can feel the tears forming in your eyes.
"I'll ask him to put me on the mission. And then I'll winnow you in." he says.
You look at him in pure confusion. You can't believe what he's saying. Was Azriel...defying orders for the first time? You've never seen him do something like this. To offer you something like this?
"Az, you can't." you say.
"I can. If you agree." he says.
"Why would you disobey Rhys like that?" you ask.
He looks at you. His eyes are basically piercing into your soul. And while you look into his eyes you understand why he's not answering you. He's not saying anything but he's saying everything.
"You know why." he puts simply.
It doesn't surprise you. It doesn't come as a shock. You don't know why but with him standing there and looking at you, you feel it. What you've been feeling for a while underneath the surface.
And he doesn't say anything else. He leaves and shuts the door behind him. You sit there with nothing else to say either. You don't chase after him. You don't call out his name.
Azriel. It's Azriel. How have you been so blind this whole time?
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ariestrxsh · 2 days ago
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bsf!chris x bsf!reader
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🤍 content warning: smut, fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex, sexualization of religious imagery
🤍 summary: after a date gone bad, your best friend chris is there to make you feel better with his cock
this fic was inspired/requested by this ask that was sent in forever ago (and it was also inspired/requested by someone who asked for a plot where reader goes to chris for comfort after a bad date but I forgot to save their ask </3)
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angel like u
꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱
You buried your face into Chris' chest, tears staining the front of his shirt, but he didn't mind at all. He didn't mind the tear stains, and he didn't mind that you'd interrupted him playing video games on stream. All that he cared about was that you were okay.
He cradled your head with one hand, and with the other, he tenderly rubbed your back. You hadn't even been able to explain to your best friend why you were so upset yet, and he still held you against his chest, smoothing down your hair.
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he said in a comforting voice. You pulled away, sniffled, and looked up at him with your big, misty eyes. "It's embarrassing, really," you started off, wiping away a tear with the sleeve of your sweater.
He listened quietly without judgment as you continued on. "I went on a first date with a guy, and I don't usually do this, but we were getting along really well. So I went back to his place, and things got a little heated," you started to tell him, searching for his reaction and hoping he didn't think differently of you.
"What happened?" Chris sharply asked, clenching his jaw and imagining the worst-case scenario. "It's not that it was bad or anything. It's just that he didn't make me.." you started to say, but you turned away, too flustered to finish your sentence.
"He didn't make you.. cum?" Chris speculated. "Exactly," you said, somewhat relieved that Chris had finished your sentence for you.
"He came, and then it was just over. He didn't even try to get me off after or even cuddle with me. I just put my clothes back on, he told me he didn't feel anything for me, and then he suggested that he take me home," you admitted, your lip quivering and your eyes welling with tears again.
"What an asshole," Chris muttered under his breath, wiping away your mascara-stained tears from your cheek with his thumb.
"I didn't want to cry in front of him, and I didn't want to be alone, so I asked him to take me here since it was only a few minutes away. I hope you don't mind that I just showed up unannounced on your doorstep, sobbing at midnight," you apologetically said.
"Of course I don't mind. You know I'm here for you whenever you need it," Chris comforted you. "Thank you, Chris," you replied, pulling him into another hug, tightly gripping the fabric of his shirt as if he'd float away if you let go.
"Boys like that don't deserve angels like you. How are you feeling right now, pretty girl?" Chris wondered, resting his head against yours.
"I know I agreed to it, but I just feel so used, you know? I feel stupid for giving it up on the first date. And listen, I know this is weird, but I still feel kind of.." your voice trailed off as you cracked an embarrassed smile.
"Turned on?" Chris guessed, finishing your thought again.
"Yeah, I mean, it was good up until he stopped. I was so close," you admitted, almost forgetting you were talking to your male best friend instead of your therapist. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry. You didn't need to know that," you buried your head in your hands after your confession.
Chris let out a small chuckle, caressing your back with his fingertips again. "You don't have to be embarrassed to tell me things like that. I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything, but I could, you know, finish you off if you'd like," Chris offered, his tongue darting out and wetting his lips as his gaze fell to your mouth.
Your eyebrows flew up. "Y-you'd do that?" You asked, seriously considering his proposal. "Yeah. I hate seeing you cry," Chris whispered, wiping away another tear as it fell. "If I could go back in time and make sure the whole situation didn't happen to begin with, I would. Making you feel good is the least I can do."
He tilted your chin up to look at him, searching your face for permission to kiss you. "What do you say? You want me to make you cum?" He sweetly asked, his gaze lingering on yours. "Yes. Pleeease, Chris," you softly begged, the words surprising you as they tumbled from your mouth in such a desperate manner.
He smirked down at you before his eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned in, his lips gently meeting yours. It started off slow - a few soft pecks here and there and a gentle caress of his fingertips along your jawline, sending goosebumps across your warm skin.
Before you knew it, the two of you had been swept up in the moment. His lips passionately engulfed yours, and his velvet-like tongue gently brushed against yours, filling your mouth with the taste of a blue raspberry-flavored piece of candy he'd eaten shortly before.
You softly moaned into his mouth, the vibration tickling his lips and sending blood rushing below his waist. He reached up your shirt, gently pinching your sensitive nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. He pulled your top off over your head and admired the sight of you half-nude on his bed.
His hand wandered to the button of your jeans, and he slipped his long, slender fingers into your waistband. He gasped and pinched his eyebrows together when he felt how wet you were, his face only a few inches from yours as he explored your folds.
You relaxed against his body, a few breathy, textured moans spilling from your lips. "Let's get you out of these," Chris suggested, removing his hand from your waistband and motioning for you to lift your hips, so he could pull your jeans and your panties off of you and have better access to you.
Once you were completely naked, you leaned back on Chris' bed and slowly parted your legs, showing yourself off to him. "Look at that. She's so happy to see me," Chris seductively cooed, sliding his middle finger up and down your slit. You shuddered at the sensation and his words.
Your breath hitched in your throat as your best friend toyed with you, spreading open your labia and admiring how pretty and pink it was. He placed two digits at your entrance and watched them slowly disappear into your drooling hole.
"You weren't kidding. You are turned on," Chris observed, pumping his fingers and slightly curling them. You bit back a moan and grasped at the bedsheets beneath you. "Don't be shy. I wanna hear you," Chris responded with a smile on his face, indicating to you that he didn't care that his brothers were asleep upstairs.
You nodded and released your lower lip from between your teeth. As Chris picked up the pace, another sensual sound tore through you, but you didn't hold back this time. "That's it," Chris purred.
You peered down at the way he pistoned his fingers deep inside of you, your eyes traveling to the silver chain around his wrist and his prominent veins on his arms. With his blue eyes locked on yours, he lowered his head between your thighs and took your clit into his mouth.
You jumped and squealed at the feeling of his soft tongue exploring you, fluttering around on your needy pussy. He closed his lips down around your sensitive bundle of nerves and started gently suckling on it.
"Oh, Chris," his name fell from your lips as your tipped your hand back and started combing through his soft, brown hair with your hand. He worked tirelessly, his mouth and his fingers caressing your sensitive flesh, and he was determined to do so until you were finishing all over his tongue.
"Chris.." you whispered, his name falling from your lips again, but this time in a tone that indicated that you needed something from him. He peered up at you with his perfectly blue eyes and his drunk expression as he drank from your center. "Hmm?" He hummed against your clit, causing you to raise your hips and grind against his face.
"Your tongue feels heavenly, but I need more. Please," you requested. "More?" He asked, pulling away for a moment. You reached down and gently tugged on the collar of his shirt. "I need you to fuck me, Chris," the words tumbled out of you with fervor.
He was towering over you while you laid on your back, staring up at him like he was a god whose cock was going to bring you eternal salvation. He pulled his shirt off over his head, revealing his gorgeous body to you that had become more muscular in these recent months due to how often he'd been working out.
Your eyes danced over his chest, his stomach, and the prominent lines on his lower abdomen that directed your attention to his hard on that was struggling against the grey cotton of his sweatpants.
Before you had time to take in just how flawless he looked shirtless, he was hooking his thumbs in his waistband and tugging down his bottoms. His dick sprung out, and your gaze followed the way it gently bobbed.
"You ready, angel?" Chris asked, positioning himself between your legs. You stared down at his smooth, pink cockhead that was glistening with precum, and you nodded. Your jaw fell slack at the initial stretch as he pushed the tip into your weeping hole. Chris was much thicker than the man you'd been with earlier that night.
"So big.." you whimpered as he pushed it in a little deeper. A smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I know, angel," he said in a breathy groan as you fluttered around him. He started to rock his hips back and forth, inserting more of his length with every thrust. You let out a relieved sigh as he found your gspot, and your eyes rolled around in your head.
Chris gazed down at you beneath him, arms outstretched and tightly gripping his soft sheets. You loved the way he looked hovering above you, his flushed cheeks, his desire-filled blue eyes, and his pouty, pink lips parted as the room filled with his moans.
You felt his hand brush against the inside of your thigh as he spread your legs open further. His thumb found your clit, and he started moving it in circles as he drove himself into you over and over again. You let your sounds of pleasure pour from your lips with reckless abandon as Chris skillfully brought you to the edge.
You felt that divine feeling brewing deep within your core as Chris drilled his cock into you at an increasingly harder and faster pace. He could feel you sucking him in, and the way your pussy was throbbing around him. "You wanna cum, don't you, pretty girl?" He purred, looking into your eyes. "Mhmm," you hummed back desperately.
"How many times?" He asked, smiling down at you. His question surprised you. The man you'd gone on the date with couldn't even make you orgasm once, and now Chris was offering multiple? You were nearly too fucked out to answer him, but you regained your composure long enough to tell him, "three."
"Three? Greedy girl," he teased you, still making circles on your clit with his fingers as he rammed his tip into your gspot. "Show me what you've got, angel," Chris whispered, jolting his hips into you in a rhythmic pattern that he loved the way you reacted to.
Before you knew it, he was driving you over the edge, and your muscles tightened around him before you started to shake violently. You practically screamed in pleasure as you came on his cock, clenching around him uncontrollably which made it hard for him to hold on until your second orgasm, never mind your third. You felt the tension leave your body.
You'd been waiting all night for this feeling, and as you were sinking into the pleasure rippling throughout your system, you felt a second wave coming on. The pressure built so quickly this time, but the release was just as incredible as the first, resulting in you curling your toes and tearing at the sheets beneath you.
Chris was holding on for dear life, trying to get you to your third climax before he let himself cum, and with every powerful thrust into your drooling cunt, the harder it became for him to control his orgasm. He was begging to finish inside of you.
However, he maintained his stamina, pistoning into you at the perfect speed and pressure to get you what you asked for without giving in just yet. You trembled as you came onto his length a third time, leaving a thick ring of white at the base of his shaft.
Once you were completely spent, he snapped his hips forward and held them still, a guttural moan passing through his lips while he pumped you full of his heavenly substance. You could feel him release his load into you, his cock pulsating in your hole and leaving you with an incredible post-orgasmic state. He slowly pulled himself out of you, admiring the beautiful mess he'd left behind.
"How was that, angel? How do you feel?" Chris asked, checking in with you and cradling your face in his palm as he ran his thumb across your cheek. You smiled in sheer bliss, your chest still rising and falling as you caught your breath.
"That was divine. Your cock is like heaven," you whispered into his ear. "Well, angels like you are who heaven was made for," he whispered back.
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