#sock dart

[grrl-beetle]

Nike Sock Dart

[machveil]

Roommate!König who always surprises you with how quiet he is. for as tall and broad as he is, he still manages to sneak up on you. “Ah, can I get a mug, Schatz?”, you both startle, you from his sudden appearance and König from you jumping. he’s always quick to apologize, worry waning when you start to laugh, “It’s okay, I should be used to it.”. he starts to clear his throat when he enters the same room you’re in and you haven’t immediately noticed him, he always feels a little bad when you jolt

Roommate!König who quietly follows you throughout the day sometimes, no new books or documentaries to take his attention off of you. he looks for excuses to help you, folding laundry with you or dusting while you vacuum. it always makes him feel good when he can help you, turning chores into little domestic moments. fools himself into thinking this is what a relationship feels like, eyes darting over to watch you as he works, palms a little sweaty

Roommate!König who knows how to sew. his mother is a seamstress, and ever the mama’s boy, he’d be by her side as she worked as a child. she taught him how to stitch and mend clothes, the basics on how to knit too. whenever you have a shirt or pair of pants that needs mending he offers to fix it, “Let me get my needle and thread.”. it doesn’t matter if it’s a sock or shirt hem, he’ll dutifully stitch it like new. when you turn away he stitches his initials somewhere on the inside of the piece, the initials of his government name, letting you unknowingly hold on to it

Roommate!König who knows how you dress, what colors and aesthetics you adore. when holidays or events come up he tries his hand at making something for you, be it a hoodie and sweatpants or something with more flair. again, his initials delicately stitched inside, giving his name to you subtly. he doesn’t expect you to notice, and even if you did he would make up an excuse, “A special stitch my mama taught me.”, but he feels his heart pound against his chest when you wear whatever he made. heartbeat drumming in his ears, a rhythm so loud he hopes you can’t hear it

[bi-writes]

how would arguments go between simon and MOB? i imagine he would never dare raise his voice at her.

simon does not argue with his wife. if you are in danger or something is wrong, i could see him using a little bit of his lieutenant's voice just to get you to listen to him. to "get behind me" or "i'll take care of this, you go." otherwise, there's no resistance. none at all.

"you know, simon, i..." you stop at the door, swallowing. you rub a hand over your forehead, shaking your head. "i...i-i really don't want to go."

he shuffles in his boots, staring at you carefully. you're all dressed up; you've got a new dress on (that he bought you, eagerly), and you've done your makeup. you clutch your purse with clammy hands, and he narrows his eyes when he sees the tremble in your bottom lip. he clears his throat, taking his jacket off. he removes his boots quietly, scratching the back of his neck as he comes close to you to take your bag and hang it up by the door again.

"okay," simon murmurs. "then we won't go."

he doesn't tell you about the cancellation fee.

"'ello?"

"simon!"

he startles awake this time, holding the phone closer to his ear. the sheer anxiety in your voice cuts his gut sharp.

"wot? wot is it? wot happened?"

"i--i totally...i screwed up, simon--oh, god, i'm so sorry--"

"oi!" simon says firmly. "wot happened?"

"i...i'm at the shop, someone was going to back into me, so i swerved, and--"

"fuck," simon breathes. "are ya olright?"

"the car, it's--"

"not wot i asked," simon interrupts you. "are ya hurt?"

"w-what? i..." you sniffle. "no. i'm okay. just a little sore, i guess..."

simon lets out a deep breath, shaking his head.

"i'm coming," simon says lowly. "you stay there, baby. don't move."

"but, simon, the walk is--"

"i'll see ya in twenty."

"oh, no, no, no, no!" you gasp. the orange tabby's head perks up at the sound of your voice at the door. she's got one of simon's masks in her mouth, and even from this distance and without the lights turned on, you can tell the fabric is shredded to bits. it's all over the floor, scattered across the couch, flecks of lint in her fur.

"oh, god, how could you?!" you panic a little. she must have gotten into some kind of drawer or basket or the laundry, because as you start towards her, she darts away, leading you across the house where you can see shreds of more masks and simon's socks strewn about the house. "oh, no!"

the front door closes heavy. when you come into the living room, simon is there, dropping his gear onto the floor. he looks tired--his shoulders sag, and you can see his eyes half-lidded and barely opening.

"simon, i'm...i'm s-sorry, she--"

you're holding his tattered clothes, but before you can say anything more, he grabs you by the shoulders and hugs you so tight. you nearly lose your breath from how he crushes you to his chest, and you let out a quiet whimper when his knees buckle and he falls to the floor with you, cradling your head to his chest and kissing your forehead through the mask over and over.

you're here. you're real. you're alive.

you drop the shredded fabric and hug him back, closing your eyes as you breathe him in. he tips your head back finally, ripping his mask off and kissing you hard.

he doesn't care when he sees the orange cat take a bite of his thrown mask and run away with it.

he can buy a million masks. but his girls--he pulls back from your kiss to stare down at you, intense. he hasn't slept in days, and he hasn't had a decent meal in weeks, camping on different rooftops just to track a shipment, and when that bullet whizzed past his head, all he could think about was you. the cat-bitten plants. the warm food. the cherry dress. some things cannot be replaced.

some brides cannot be ordered again. they don't make them like you.

you are one of a kind.

[xo2dee]

🗨️ 40 CHIPS

PAIRING: Dante/(Fem)Reader. WARNINGS: MDNI/18+ ONLY. Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Chair Sex. WORD COUNT: 4,688. SUMMARY: Either his luck really was that bad, or he just liked to let you win all the time.

A/N: i've never played strip poker or poker itself so if you see any inconsistencies mind ur business,,, also had dmc 5 dante in mind writing this

DMC MASTERLIST

On rare occasions, there were nights you got Devil May Cry to yourself, and there were nights you got Dante to yourself. And on some of those rare nights, you got both in one sweet, little wrapped present. On those particular nights, you and Dante liked the up the scales in your relationship and have a little friendly competition of a game between you two to see who would come out on top for the night. Such was a night, and you and he were at it again playing a dangerous game to see who could come out on top of the other and got the ‘prize’ the other was promising.

And in your favor, you held the cards for the winning hand.

Tensions were high, your eyes glazed over in determination as you stared over your choice of weapon for the night against your opponent as he chose his next move very carefully. It was a game of chance and skill all wrapped into one, your hand a winning one as you held the ultimate dealbreaker within your fingers while your opponent continued to slip and fall and take the hits you were so careful to deal out. For once he was off his usual slight above you, his eyes squinting over his own weapon as he watched you carefully before lying down his next hit for you to counter.

And once again, he missed his mark as you dodged and laid down your next attack. His eyes quickly darted over to what you had done, then you watched the defeat cloud his eyes as he groaned and hung his head down when he understood what it meant. Jackpot, indeed.

“C’mon, babe, cut me some slack,” your boyfriend grumbled, falling back into his chair with a sigh as he eyed your winning hand of cards laid across from his.

You only shrugged with a smirk, though you couldn’t but feel like he was holding out on you. Or if his luck really was as bad as he was always complaining it was. “There’s no possible way you’re this bad…”

Dante scoffed, sitting back up straight as he grabbed at the back of his shirt with a wink, “I can still come back from this.”

A laugh escaped you, pulling another pile of chips toward you as he removed his shirt, “Right… all I’ve taken off is two socks.” One of your legs kicked up to show him the missing clothing, the rest of your clothes still on your body as Dante was only left in his pants and two folds away from losing the game of Strip Poker. The entire thing had been your idea of course, an excuse to get Dante as naked as possible while you remained as clothed as you could before you got the winning prize from him. He was too eager to play a round of Strip Poker, a cocky smirk on his face telling that you’d lose and he’d be happy for you to take your clothes off for him… Yeah, he ended up eating those words the first time he had to fold and took his coat off, claiming he’d ‘get back at you’… To which, you were still fully clothed while he only had his pants and boxers left.

The sound of him shuffling cards brought your attention back, giving the each of you a new hand before he squinted at you in suspicion, “Have you been holdin’ out on me?”

“Not really,” you flipped your cards over in your hand and held back your grin, eyeing him from over top of your cards with a suggestive raise to your brow, “maybe your luck isn’t as good as you think…” And then you laid down your hand – a straight royal flush within your hold as you grinned full of teeth and victory watching his eyes bulge as took in the symbols along the corners of your deck.

And another piece of his clothing was coming off.

“Damn,” he rubbed his hand across his jaw, immediately folding his hand as he scooted his chair back enough to begin unbuckling the belt of his pants, “this is my last piece of clothing too…”

You blinked, raising an eyebrow as he began shimmy off his pants, “Don’t you still have –”

The sound of his belt buckle clanging against the floor silenced you, and then sitting up straighter to peek over the edge of the table let you see the beginnings of his happy trail and that was too prominent and his hips were too visible for him to be wearing anything else… Leaving him to be completely stark naked… And he was just sitting there with a new hand continuing to play like you hadn’t just stripped him naked and beat him in a landslide victory of Strip Poker.

Dante scratched his chin, looking up towards the ceiling fan that you turned off before glancing at the window in confusion, “…Do you feel a draft?”

You could only gawk, wondering he’d been walking around the entire day in leather pants without any underwear before you voiced that question while your hardest to not peek up over the table to see the rest of his exposed skin, “Are you not wearing any underwear?”

His index finger came up to rest against his lips, “Shhh, pretend I am – we can keep playing,” Dante started to reach forward to shuffle the deck once more, a grin on his face as you felt your panties grow damp once you realized the victory you had won. “I can still come back.”

“Nu-uh,” you jumped forward, snatching the cards out of his hands and then pulling the rest of the stack of chips towards you in your winnings, “I don’t think so. Don’t be a sore loser, Dante.” You shifted in your seat before pressing your feet fully on the ground, discreetly rocking your hips along the chair’s seat to warm yourself up for what you had planned.

Dante seemed none too aware of your rising arousal nor the slight rocking of back and forth you were doing, holding up both of his hands in a gesture of peace as he relaxed in his seat, “Whatever, I fold, I fold…” his arms crossed over his chest, further enhancing the size of chest as you watched a bead of sweat trail down into chest hair and furthering down onto his abdomen, “So what’s this ‘huge prize’ you want?”

It was like picking up your cards and seeing a straight Royal Flush again, your win on the horizon as soon as he asked the question. But it wasn’t like Dante didn’t have a clue – he wasn’t stupid, he knew exactly was turning the gears in your mind the moment you asked him if he wanted to play Strip Poker. Of course, he could’ve been wrong and you were planning to make him walk around the Devil May Cry in nothing but an apron… though you held no such plans when you had Dante baring all and stuck in a chair across from you. And if you chair broke again… well, you’d just get him a new one.

You gave a small smirk, mischief alight in your eyes as you propped your elbows on the table and folded your hands together, “You.”

Dante shrugged, holding out his arms as he presented himself to you before you quite literally felt the heat begin to emanate off of him, “I’m all yours, babe.”

Sliding your chair back from the table, you mentally patted yourself on the back for wearing a skirt for the day… Just something about the way of Dante being naked and you completely clothed that made your stomach flip as you felt your underwear grow more and more damp. Raising one finger in the air before tapping it your nose, you told him, “I’ll give you one free pass of clothing I’ll take off.”

A lone eyebrow arched up, eyeing your body of what he could see as seemed to actually contemplate the answer before clicking his tongue, “Do I get to choose?”

You thought about it before shaking your head, having your own ideas for how the rest of the night would go as you slid your hands up into your skirt and pulled your panties down before kicking them over to him. He caught them with ease, peering at them in his palm as his eyelashes fluttered and the skin along his chest started coloring into red while you slowly sauntered over to him with clenched thighs and a smile. And in return, you got the pleasure of watching his Adam’s Apple bob with the long and loud swallow he made once he realized you were in one your moods again.

“Are those good enough?” you asked, prying them from his grip and tossing them into the pile of his clothes that lied on the floor.

“That’ll do, Captain…” Dante mumbled after a moment, eyeing you up as you held back the snort at seeing his cock completely hard and already leaking with precum before you’d even touched him. A side-effect you learned from him being half-demon; apparently everything was heightened, down to his bodily reactions (and his damn bounce back time) so much he was practically ready to go within seconds for anything. However, that never deterred him from prepping you for sex and you weren’t sure how many minutes you’d spent sitting on Dante’s fingers or face before you got to actually sit on his dick. And half the time you didn’t even need to get so riled up when you’d get so wet and horny from just being around watching him stretch his arms up and his shirt rode up to expose some of his stomach… Well, maybe you did actually, the dick size was not something to take lightly.

Wasting zero time you straddled him before latching your mouth onto his, eating up his surprised groan with your tongue as one of your hands knotted into the back of his hair and the other began a soft trek down the front of his body to his cock. Overwhelming Dante’s tongue, your fingers passed by the hair dusted along his chest, the firm, knotted row of his abdominal muscles, the prominence of his happy trail, and then you were coiling what you could of your fingers around the sheer girth of his cock. He grunted in your mouth at the squeeze, your fingers twirling of what you could in his locks as you gave slight tugs to each way you were twisting your wrist around his cock.

Feeling your own body begin to burn at the lack of attention, you sped things up a fraction as you decided to scoot into Dante close enough to begin rubbing your clit along his underside of his cock. The friction made your eyes cross beneath your eyelids, your throbbing clit twitching at the attention as you rolled your hips harder to later him up with your own wetness as well lubricate the inside of you for the squeeze you knew was coming. You weren’t in the mood for prolonged foreplay, your skin on fire and your lower abdomen doing its own acrobatic routine the entire time you were teasing him in the game and watching his clothes come off. Dante would understand later that you were in for something quick and hot rather than usual slow and passionate rounds you two were used to doing.

When you lifted your hips up and began to angle his dick to where your opening was, he grunted against your mouth and pulled away a few inches as a string of saliva connected you both before breaking. “No foreplay?” Dante asked with a knotted brow, his hands drawing patterns of what they could in your hips bones as you sighed and ran your thumb across the top of his cock’s slit.

“Dante, you’re literally leaking…” you laughed breathlessly when you watched his lips purse the longer you swiped along the head of his cock. A fast shower and grower he was, you were starting to believe he had been aroused for a while. “How long have you been imagining this?”

He paused, his fingers drumming a rhythm on your hips as he actually sat there and thought about it for a moment. Meanwhile, you were still hovering over his dick ready to take him in. “Since I started losing.”

So… since the start of the game basically. A lighthearted scoff escaped you, slightly petting the back of his head before you kissed the corner of his mouth, “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible –” Dante started to say with a breathy chuckle, only for it to immediately get lost in a choke when you took that initiative and started to sink down onto his cock with a grin on your face at his reactions.

You took him slow into you, but it still did slightly sting no matter how wet and ready you had gotten for him as someone with Dante’s size was bound to keep you on your toes. Inch by inch you slid him into you, biting your cheek and practically holding your breath the entire time as it was a few more moments before the entire brute of him was pushed inside, a gasp falling from your lips as you felt your walls stretch, constrict and throb once you got him where you wanted him. You winced a bit as you sat your ass onto his thighs, hearing him let out a choked noise as felt you the muscles of your pussy contract and flutter around the new welcomed intrusion. You wiggled a bit before sighing in content and how fucking good it felt having his hot arousal inside of you again and how full you felt with him inside of you, Dante sharing the same sentiment as you watched his eyelids flutter and a soft, whining moan drop out of his mouth.

Impossible. “And yours,” he finished his statement from before, and you got the satisfaction of the watching the tendons in his neck bulge forward whenever he dropped his head back with a louder groan through harshly clenched teeth when you suddenly clamped around him. The fingers he had on your hips quickly flexed away from you too, stopping himself from applying any pressure into your skin in case he accidentally squeezed too hard. You moved forward to press a kiss to his Adam’s Apple, relishing in when he suddenly bucked into you for the sensation and you heard an expletive leave him in a choked pant. “Fuck – I’m…  You feel so –”

Overran by the fog clouding your mind you rolled your hips once while biting gently onto his Adam’s Apple, pulling him inches out of you before rolling back down until he bottomed out in you with a soft moan. The tapping of his fingers was back onto your hips, his sign for you to continue since he had gotten adjusted to feeling you around him as you complied to his request. With your clit and cunt throbbing and feeling him pushing against your walls so hot and insistently, you began to move your hips rhythmically against his and enjoying at how he seemed to become literal putty in your hands every time it happened. You could already feel your body beginning to hum in delight from each way his cock slid along inside of your pussy, speeding up a bit as you watched his expression fall apart into pure pleasure in such a short amount of time.

You lifted yourself up off him, lethargically pulling him out of you and the slow slide of his girth making you grip him harder while biting your lip to keep from whining out. Once he was back out and his tip kissed your folds, his thumbs started to rub circles into your body before you buried him back inside of you at the same pace yet that time the stretch was tighter as you clenched up to get a better feel of his heat. The action of you pushing him back up into the hilt of you let a breathless moan fall out of you and a grunt from him, you tossing your head back once more with your eyes fluttering while his lips kissed at the spot underneath your chin.

Dante clenched his teeth and a hand shot up to grip your breast with a hiss pushing through the cracks of his teeth. No doubt he was fighting against himself with the scrunching and releasing of your soaked, hot cunt around his cock combined with your words, the atmosphere brewing once more as you became hot with arousal and wanted to roll your eyes back at how he felt inside of you. He groaned roughly, fingers digging into your breast as he spoke roughly with a hint of a whine, “Hand – Please –” Dante panted, and you understood the words enough to understand what he wanted.

The hand you had placed on his shoulder trailed down teasingly until you were at his pert and pink nipple, pinching it in-between two fingers with various twists as Dante pelvis began to jerk up into you from below. You started to move faster then, bouncing on his cock instead in delicious rolls as he pulled back far enough to watch himself disappear into you with a groan, watching your folds open to accommodate him and stretch as far as it could once he was into the deepest part of your cunt. One of his hands moved from your hip to slightly press down onto your lower abdomen, the act causing you to release a louder whine for him as it began to feel like his cock was nudging up into your skin there and into your guts.

“Mmm, Dante,” you sighed out, taking him out until only his swollen cockhead inside of you before quickly sheathing him back into your warm, soaked, plush cunt with a smooth roll. The continuous action coaxed more of the lewdest and loudest noises from him, God – “You feel so good,” you moaned out, nails digging into his hair while you pulled and tweaked at his nipple before you pulled him back to kiss at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, just like that – fuck.” A raspy grunt escaped his throat at your words, his teeth biting at your lip as your hearing tuned into the sound of your ass smacking against the skin of his thighs and the distinct noise of your cunt slapping with your juices with every dive of his cock. He was borderline looking like he was about lose his goddamn mind, and that was only fueling your desire to ride him faster and harder enough to point you actually did end up breaking the chair again. It was already beginning to squeak and whine from all your movements, and you knew if you got any more aggressive it would collapse underneath you both mid hip roll.

“Not gonna last long, babe,” he admitted, a clumsy buck of his hips up into yours making him hiss as you curled your hands back into his hair to rear his head back far enough for you to mark up his neck once more.

Dante’s words enflamed you, your cunt clenching and throbbing as a hard curl of pleasure panged down into your clit from his little confession. It had seemed he had thrown all composure out for time being in favor of bowing to your will and doing anything he could to feel that level of euphoria again. You made up your mind, the specter burn behind your naval too much to bear while your need to have him completely burst into you furthered your speed and aggression.

You pulled away from mouthing at his jawline from him, fluttering your fingers around his torso and abdomen drawing into the hairs you could feel all around him as you switched to bouncing on him instead. You were delighted in the way he suddenly reared his head back with a curse, neck stretching harshly as you tried your hardest to push him into cumming before you did that time. You wanted – no, needed to watch it; wanted to see him finally fall apart as he came inside of you.

As hard as you were trying to as well, you could feel your own release on the cusp so you had to speed it up before you lost the little one-sided game you were playing with him. You mapped your hands back up his chest, the sounds of your sweaty skin slapping obscenely loud before you used one hand to pull his chin away to look at you and used the other to pinch at his hard nipple again.

The thought of him cumming inside of you was embarrassingly enough to unravel you, the ball of pleasure inside of you brimming to its near once more and your pussy fluttering each time you sank back onto his cock in a hard bounce. You swallowed before opening your mouth, a breathy moan leaving you before you goaded him on again, “Dante, are you gonna cum?”

Your breathy question and the louder and filthier your mouth got earned you the noisy groan you had been wanting, one his hands sneaking down to take two fingers to your swollen clit and begin rubbing away at it in those mouthwatering circles. It caused you to squeeze around his cock once more and in result his hand faltered from its ministrations as it sent pleasurable spikes up in his spine from how sensitive he was getting fucking you. You knew what he was doing though; he was trying to make you cum again before he did.

Ever the gentleman.

Incapable to help himself he began to snap his hips up in time with yours, panting needily as his cock throbbed when your pussy clenched from the sudden support. He groaned while those calloused palms drifted from the respective areas up to squeeze your breasts once and then slide back finding purchase on your ass and gripping into the flesh there. Desperate to fulfill the burning fire at his base, he began to guide you along, pushing you up and down in time with his thrusts to bring you both closer to completion.

“Oh, God,” you gasped, falling back down atop of him and hiding your face in the crook of his neck to muffle your increasing cries and moans. That coil was twisting inside you, uncomfortably tight and fueled by your own teasing the entire day before you could feel it begin to unravel as you continued on.

In response to your comment he tried to pick up the pace, slamming into your pussy from below while he kept you in place. “Shit –" That was all Dante managed to croak out, too busy choking over his own whines and groans while he felt that hotness growing at the base of his cock. The twitch it gave inside of you was hint enough he was ready to come undone and spend himself inside of you.

You could worry about the repercussions afterwards.

It was so hot – so fucking hot – and everything smelled just of him, your frontal lobe losing all other thoughts but just Dante pleasuring you so fucking good and about to make you cum from all his whining. God you were right there; so fucking close, but you wanted him to cum first.

Your squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back whenever your hips instinctively rocked faster and twisted harder onto him as your brain decided to settle on you just reaching that sweet, sweet bliss. The air around you two was blistering, his cock so hard and so hot inside your trembling you nearly couldn’t hold on any longer. Yet, you had to give him what he wanted –what you wanted as well – before surrendering to that euphoria.

You could barely hold onto him any longer, every part of your bodied slicked with sweat and your limbs beginning to fail you as you tried to hold on for a moment longer. You met his eyes once more and almost toppled over at how hard he was watching you move over top of him and possibly remembering every expression you made to his mind for his own want.

It was too much. You needed it.

“Cum inside of me – Now, Dante.”

You got the satisfaction for a brief second to watch his eyes roll back at the last words before your head lulled back from the harsh release of his orgasm. He groaned louder than he had before, hips jerking upwards in you ruthlessly as he spurted out everything he had into your pussy that so greedily took it and contracted around him with each pulse of his cock to bring more out of him. His cum was almost seemingly never-ending as each sudden stab of his hips in you had another stream of it filling up your cunt in thick, warm bursts. The new heat in you had you moaning once more in debauch contentment as you felt it gush up through you and completely coat your insides with his warmth until you felt like you were literally being stuffed full.

Dante jerked a few more times trying to calm himself down until he groaned again whenever you suddenly came all over his sensitive cock. As always, Dante cumming inside of you alone was enough to make you cum.

The prolonged moan that left you was all but a whining variant of his name and the octave enough to raise hairs on the back of necks. The coil in you unraveled fast, the pressure behind your naval falling away from you as if the wind had been knocked out of you and in consequence your bones and muscle tendons tightening up as you rode through it. His hips were slightly thrusting into you all the while your cunt clenched around him to find purchase for ground as the sounds of your gushed pussy and his ministrations grew until you were writing away from his touch as you began to throb in the aftermath of cumming. It was so much, and yet at the same time, not nearly enough of him.

You shook for a bit as you finally finished, hands placed back on his chest as you heard his heavy breathing come through your conscious first after pulling through the boisterous noise of your heartbeat hammering in your ears. You gave a sigh as you lifted off of him to free yourselves both of any possible overstimulation, wincing when he seemed to pop out of you and biting your lip when you felt your cunt already gap open from the loss of him and the telling of his cum beginning to slide out of you in a slow stream.

With your limbs relaxing and your eyes fluttering with the blinks of clarity, you suddenly fell forward onto his body and to your surprise his arms caught you and curled around your back as you laid there for a long moment. In the massive rush of hormones and emotions you two lied there with time losing meaning to you both if only for few moments, breathing rapidly in an embrace with your eyes glazed unaware of the surroundings for a long while until Dante took a rather long inhale and exhale and then laughed under his breath.

“Remind me to manipulate your deck next time we play again.”

The words made you pause, your brain taking a few seconds to catch up with what he said before you pieced the puzzle together on what he said. No fucking wonder you won way too easily. Leave to Dante to shit himself out of luck that way you’d get riled up enough to nearly break his chair while fucking him.

“You can’t be serious…” you groaned with your cheek squished against his chest, your body jostling as he started into a full-blown laugh.

“Oops, did I say that out loud?”

[sleepymarimo]

toji x reader // sfw!

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 doesn’t remember the last time he was gifted something.

“you got me what?” he asks again, kicking his sandals off at your front door for what seems like the millionth time.

you rise from your couch, the wood creaking slightly as you do so. “just some stuff for you to keep here so you stop using mine,” you reply, the shrug of your shoulders indicating how little of a deal it is.

in the kitchen, you rinse out the glass you’d been using. toji’s footsteps are barely audible over the sound of running water.

“there’s a few pairs of sweats in the hall closet,” you tell him, setting the glass down to dry. “and some other stuff in the bathroom. shampoo, body wash, toothbrush…”

the assassin lets out a small huff, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway. “you tellin’ me i reek or something?” he accuses, more so to brush off the odd feeling building in his gut.

“maybe.” comes your playful quip, your head tilting as you rest your weight on the counter and look at him. “but seriously, you just come around so often,”- his nose wrinkles at that, as he knows he crashes here much more than he should- “that i figured i’d just get you your own things. it’s not like it cost me an arm and a leg.”

with a yawn you stroll toward your room, lightly poking his chest as you pass him. “plus, you use up all of my stuff, dummy.”

he grunts, his eyes following you until you’re out of sight. “i don’t need fancy clothes or any of that crap,” he murmurs to himself, taking a few steps toward the hall closet.

his large hands wrap around the handles, sliding the doors open until he sees a pile of clothes resting on one of the shelves. three black tees stacked atop three pairs of sweats, some boxers and socks in a little box, all for him.

he picks up a shirt without hesitation, the fabric smooth against his calloused fingers. his brows furrow in concentration, maybe unease. this is for him, it’s his, and maybe that’s why this shirt is the softest one he’s ever felt.

with a gruff exhale, he snatches a pair of sweats and a clean pair of boxers, his steps unhurried as he heads for the bathroom.

the fan hums above him as the lock clicks into place, his eyes immediately darting to the shelves to see the new toiletries. his stuff.

inside the shower, toji’s shoulders sag.

it’s as if the water is washing away his defenses, the rugged, nonchalant exterior he wears now melting away in the comfort of your shower.

toji pops open one of the new shampoo bottles, taking in the scent and pouring it onto his palm. he wonders if this smell reminds you of him, if you put some thought into each item.

while he rubs it into his hair, he thinks about if he should pay you back. it’s not like he asked you to get him all this stuff, but still.

even when you’d first started letting him crash on your couch, you hadn’t demanded much in return.

“just don’t make a big mess and be decent, alright?” he remembers you saying.

and he was just fine with that. free room and board just for something so simple? he’d be a moron to decline.

it was only after around a week that he felt a familiar itch. he wouldn’t be in your debt, wouldn’t wait for the day when you’d inevitably ask for something.

so, he offered what he always did- himself. that’s what women usually wanted from him, anyway.

his idea didn’t exactly go as planned. if anything, it made him feel more conflicted, made him wonder why the hell you kept him around.

were you just lonely? did you enjoy his company?

“oh, no… i don’t do that,” you’d said, holding your hands up, flustered but adamant. “you don’t have to sell yourself to me or anything. who does that? like, what?”

the water patters on the tile floor, his body and mind feeling more clear and clean than they’ve been in a long time.

when the faucet squeaks shut, he steps out and snorts as he sees a new, fluffy black towel hanging beside yours behind the bathroom door. he grabs it, rubbing his scarred skin dry and running it through the damp strands of his hair.

the new clothes feel like heaven, truly.

in your room, engrossed by your phone, you barely hear the sound of the bathroom door opening. toji’s steps are almost silent, his arms crossing over his chest as he watches you beneath the covers.

he’s amused as you snicker at some post, the dim screen lighting up your face in the otherwise dark room.

“let me crash here, yeah?” he suggests, though it’s more of an order.

you’re startled, rightfully so, hiding your phone against your chest while you sit up straighter. “oh, you scared me! new clothes and you think you’re all that, huh? too good for the couch?”

yet, even as you chide him, you’re peeling back the covers for him, grabbing the extra pillows and moving them out of the way.

a satisfied grunt leaves him as he spreads out on the mattress, careless of the space he takes up. he tugs the blankets over his person, settling in like a big cat.

he curls into you. you don’t mind.

while you scroll along with one hand, the other supports his head and absentmindedly strokes the skin of his cheek.

his eyes watch you, his breaths becoming more steady and even. he’d never admit how much it means to him that you’d gotten him new clothes, new toiletries, practically a new home.

it’s more than he deserves, but he finds himself wanting to take as much as he can get.

he’s yours, even if he doesn’t know it. and, as the days go by, he wonders if you can be his, too.

[digitald0rk]

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* NERD ALERT ! [ 2 ]

pairing — mark grayson x gn!reader.

synopsis — nerding out with your beloved bf :3

warnings — slightly suggestive and uh the usual pet names? he calls you his angel too <3 NOT PROOFREAD!! also mentions of dante sparda because the dmc anime is coming out 'm so excited!!!

w.c — 1.5 k.

a/n — THANK U SM FOR 200+ FOLLOWERS WHAT THE HELL SJSHJEHSLSKD. love you all <3

taglist — @vm4879bb-blog @hihowyoudoin00 @fairii-majii [ lemme know if you wanna be added too ]

READ PART [ 1 ] HERE.

if you're into video games, he's going out of his way to learn all about your faves.

when it comes to fighter games, thinks he's soooo slick looking up combos and learning them, he's all like “heh :3 gonna sweep them off their feet” and then gets absolutely BODIED LMAO.

if you show him no mercy he'll eventually start to get frustrated, not at you obviously you're his precious angel <3

“i’m not sulking.” he says, while clearly sulking. he was supposed to impress you! why are you so good at this :(

if he doesn't get a single win he's gonna suffocate one of your plushies when you're out of sight, it keeps staring at him, is that little fella mocking him? oh it'll pay for that.

you look at him amusedly when you come back to see the very obvious dent on your plushie, caused by a certain someone's fist.

“mark.” your eyes dart between the deformed head of your plushie and your boyfriend, biting back a smile.

“yeah baby?” he's all :3 bats his eyelashes all pretty at you, acting like he didn't just beat the shit out of your plushie like BOY YOU'RE NOT SLY.

but he is pretty, so you'll spare him, for now, not in the game though :p

on the topic of video games, he's actually decent at competitive games :] he loves playing them with you but if you die in the middle of a match he gets unmotivated to finish it (⁠-⁠_⁠-⁠;⁠)

unless someone was trying to rizz you up or something during the game then yeah, HE'S GOING TO WIN.

do not play dress to impress in front of this man, he gets awfully competitive about it.

“pretty sure even cecil can dress better than that.”

“baby i think that's an eight year old.”

“still, cecil has more drip.”

gets all smug when he wins, god forbid he's not in top three he's gonna go on a rant about how unfair the world is.

he'll always vote for your fits positively though! even though they might be…. questionable at times but he loves his baby :D

minecraft with your boyfriend is actually really fun! except he accidentally set the palace that you built on fire once and literally REFUSED to touch the game for weeks after that (⁠╯⁠︵⁠╰⁠,⁠)

will get sad if an animal dies :(

has names for all your dogs and cats, calls them your children.

“don't forget, we gotta feed our children babe.” he tells you, sipping on his milkshake.

and normally you'd smile and say something equally silly except for the fact that you two were currently hanging out with a couple of friends and that sentence certainly earned some looks.

“you two-”

“in minecraft!” you'd clarify, and cue the feigned annoyance filled groans and mutters of how you two are insufferable.

also one time he got so invested in building that he literally stayed up for ten hours, building the perfect wedding venue for you two!

asked [ forced ] everyone to make minecraft accounts and invited them all to your wedding in minecraft.

he kisses you in real life too when your characters “smooch” in the pixelated game.

he's gonna marry you for real one day, just you wait.

his irises turn into literal hearts when you pull up in a cosplay.

he would also love to cosplay with you!

bonus points if it's one of his favorite characters, his ass is NOT TAKING HIS HANDS OFF OF YOU LMAOOOOOO.

and if you two do end up getting freaky, like roleplaying as the characters then yeah rip bed.

matching literally anything! matching kirby socks? sure why the hell not. matching seance dog mugs? hell yeah! he's all for it!

and yes, you two have some nerdy matching pj set.

and matching underwear too :3 you jokingly bought them but he isn't playing around when he wears them seance dog boxers!

you both keep trying to recruit oliver in one of your favorite fandoms, although the little thraxan has other plans.

“guys no im not watching [ insert media name here ] !” “but oliverrr :(”

you're bother super annoying <3

sometimes mark will send you photos of oliver enjoying some piece of media you're into and act like a proud dad.

you two go to comic con together and get carried away, ending up with wayyy too much merch.

“mark, baby i love you but i don't think we need another signed poster.” you try reasoning with him, only to eat those words back the second he flashes you his sad puppy dog eyes.

you sigh, he really has you wrapped around his finger, doesn't he?

but you have him wrapped around your finger too, because when you look at him like that, asking him to take you to this signing event of your favorite foreign author, he wastes no time in picking you up and flying you wherever you want <3

no matter the time, he just wants to see his sweetheart happy :]

you two are insufferable with your references, sometimes people think you two are talking in some alien language.

rex hears mark on the phone, just who the hell is dante sparda? and why has mark mentioned this name like thirty thousand times in the past half an hour he's been on the phone with you?

as rex said, “you two match each other's freak to a degree that is dangerous to the public.”

“hey babe i got us these matching swords!” he smiles, all happy at four in the morning at your window like it's the most normal thing ever.

you squint a little before making out the sword's design, oh it's from your favorite game.

he doesn't protest in the slightest when you attack him with kisses, this is where he belongs.

he adores movie nights, you two cuddled up on his bed, watching something he loves? he's never been happier.

you two once had to stop making out because the plot got thicker, so you two locked in! even though your lips are swollen and shiny just like his from the shared passion a few minutes ago. he could care less about the next plot hole when you're right here, pressed up against him.

he can't stop staring at your lips, god you're addicting.

he snaps out of it when his favorite character dies though ⁠(⁠ ⁠:⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠∧⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠:⁠ ⁠) aw man.

building legos together! he gets all bashful when you praise him when he finishes a part of the main piece.

reward him with kisses and he'll melt.

he once tried making you pancakes, except he tried to draw one of your favorite characters with the pancake batter. and he's no artist, but he tried his best.

he's now on his 48458th attempt and it's looking like your favorite character….a little….. not really.

he'll just douse them in maple syrup, that makes everything better.

when you question the odd shaped pancakes in your sleepy dazed state, he ends up telling you the truth, embarrassed.

but when you kiss him oh so softly, your kiss far sweeter than any maple syrup, his nervousness melts off until all there's left is you.

you and only you.

you two take those extremely specific uquiz quizes together like "which xyz character would hate you the most" or "who do you kin from xyz"

if he doesn't get his fav when he takes a "which character are you from seance dog" quiz he'll be all :[

"this is rigged." he says, taking another one in hopes of getting his favorite character this time.

going to the sea and painting on the pebbles and rocks with him, he loves watching the sunlight reflect off of your hair, you look like an angel, his angel. and god your eyes-

“hey does this look like eric cartman?” you show him the paintwork on your rock, snapping him out of his lovesick trance.

“babe, why is he on ozempic?” that comment makes you two giggle.

he continues, “should've picked a bigger rock, my love.”

“i saved that one for you….. you know, if we were penguins i would you the shiniest, prettiest rock i could find, which is this one so….” you shift closer to him, placing the pretty rock onto his palm.

he presses a kiss to the side of your head, fiddling with the rock in his hand. “you're adorable.”

he presses a kiss to that same rock when he's away from you on a mission, it grounds him, knowing you're there, waiting for him.

when you two end up moving in together, unpacking things takes less time than decorating your shared room.

hanging posters with him, asking him if they're centred. putting your favorite figurines on the shelves along with your favorite comics, building your own safe haven. the whole room embodies you both so well, anyone who sets foot in this room would instantly be met with a bunch of your and his interests.

his dumbass <3 accidentally ends up leaving one of his figurines on the bed, so when you two are needily making out and grinding, excited that you two wouldn't have to be quiet or keep your voices down — straddling him and pushing him down on the bed, he lets out a small squeal of surprise.

you two stop, looking at each other all 0_0

“sorry, i think-” he starts, reaching behind his back to pull out the culprit of poking him in the back, and surely it was none other than his favorite seance dog figurine, the absurdity of it all is enough to make you chuckle, he laughs sheepishly with you. a little embarrassed that seance dog ruined the sexy atmosphere.

but when you put the figurine on the nightstand, turning it to face the wall, he realizes he's gonna have the best night of his life.

and oh boy was he right :3

© digitald0rk 2025. do not translate, copy or steal any of my work RAHHHH. thanks for reading and remember you're awesomesauce! want more? click here ★

[writers-potion]

Let's Talk About Pacing Our Fight Scenes.

For Fast-Paced Parts:

Short words with single syllables. Immediately > at once/ endeavour > try/ indicate > point at/ investigate > check out.

Short sentences, the shorter the better.

Partial sentences to blaze through multiple senses and actions within a few lines.

Short paragraphs

Lots of verbs.

Few adjectives and adverbs.

Cut down on -ing form of verbs, as it can make words longer

Use simple past tense

Avoid conjunctions and link words.

Avoid internal thought - your characters are irrational, ruthless and in the flow of pure action.

For Slow-Paced Parts:

Use medium/long sentences

the paragraphs are longer: three lines minimum

Include longer words with more syllables

Use adjectives and maybe a couple of adverbs.

Insert the thoughts of the PoV character.

Words for Action Scenes

act, alter, attack, avert, back, block, bang, bash, battle, beat, beg, belt, bend, best, bite, blacken, bleed, blind, blister, blow, blunt, boil, bolt, boot, bore, bow, box, brace, brag, brash, brawl, break, breathe, brush, buck, bulgde, burn, burst, cackle, call, can, carry, cart, carve, catch, check, chop, chuck, clack, clank, clap, clash, claw, clear, cleave, click, cliff, cling, clip, close, club, cock, coil, cold, collar, come, con, connect, corner, cost, count, counter, cover, cower, crack, crackle, cram, crash, crawl, creep, crinkle, cross, crouch, rush, cry, cuff, cull, cup, curl, curse, curve, cusp, cut, dart, dash, deepen, dig, deep, dip, ditch, drive, drop, duck, dump, ede, effect, erect, escape, exert, expect, feint, fight, fire fist, fit, flag, flare, flash, flick, fling, flip, flock, force, gash, gasp, get, gore, grab, grasp, grip, grope, group, hack, harden, heat, help, hit, hop, hurl, hurry, impale, jab, jar, jerk, join, jolt, jump, keep, kick, kill, knee, knock, knot, knuckle, leak, leap, let, lever, lick, lift, lock, loop, lop, plunge, mask, nick, nip, open, oppose, pace, pack, pain, pair, pale, palm, pan, pant, parry, part, pass, paste, pat, peak, peck, pelt, pick, pierce, pile, ping, piss, pit, pivot, plot, pluck, plug, plunge, ply, point, pool, pop, pose, pot, pound, pour, powder, pray, preen, prepare, prey, prick, prickle, print, probe, pry, pull, pulp, pulse, pump, punch, pursue, push, quarry, quarter, quest, race, raise, rake, ram, rap, rasp, rear, retreat, rip, riposte, rivert, roar, rock, roll, rope, round, rouse, run, rush, sap, scale, scalp, scan, score,scream, seek, seep, shake, shape, sharpen, shock, shoot, shop, slap, slap, slash, slice, slick, slip, slit, smash, snap, snare, snatch, snipe, sock, space, spar, spark, speed, spike, spill, spin, spit, splash, spoil, spring, spur, spurt, spy, squirm, stand, steert, step, stick, strap, strike, stuff, suck, support, swat, sweat, sweep, swingm tack, tag, take, target, taste, team, tear, tent, test, thrash, throw, thrust, thud, tick, tide, tilt, time, tire, top, toss, tower, toy, trap, trick, trigger, trip, triumph, trouble, trump, try, tuck, tug, twril, twitch, weaken, wet, whip, whirl, whirr, whoop, whoosh, whop, work, zap, zip.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[cherrygirlfriend]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ hands-on learner

pairing: rafe cameron x sunshine!reader synopsis: reader tries giving oral for the first time, but when rafe realizes it's her first time, he comforts her. tags/warnings: fluff, smut, oral (male receiving), porn, fluff, MDNI! wc: 1k a/n; this was requested on my former account so nonnie, i hope you stumble across this!!

sunshine masterlist ♡ rafe masterlist

before rafe came along, you hadn't really dated. your prior dating life, if you could even call it that, consisted having gone to a school disco when you were thirteen with a boy who had called it a date. so, your sexual conquests consisted of one person. yourself.

when you told your best friend that you wanted to take the next step and asked her for advice, cara gave you some pointers, and told you to absolutely never do one thing: use porn to help.

so, obviously, the first thing you did that night was slide under your covers, take out your laptop and your reading glasses, and search 'porn' on your computer. not even a specific site; just porn like you were a pubescent teen with a bottle of hand lotion and an on old sock.

you clicked the orange-black logo and searched up the word 'blowjob', startled by the various thumbnails filled with naked people, each of the title more and more lewd.

'big lips taking... busty goth girl... face fucking my step-'

you slammed the laptop screen close, your face warm and your lips pursed as you stared up at the ceiling, then proceeding to google 'how to give a blowjob'.

the sight of rafe in your room always made you laugh.

a six-foot-something man with his hair buzzed who always seemed to be clad in something at the very least semi-formal standing in your room filled with pinks and whites, as well as calico critters, plushies, sonny angels and hundreds of other trinkets he didn't know the name of.

even funnier was the sight of him in your bed, filled with (pink) throw pillows and sides that were lined with lace. but rafe couldn't care less about what your bed, or bedroom looked like, his lips on yours and your body under his as rafe's hands slid under the thin material of your shirt. you weren't sure how long you two had been making out, but it was long enough for the familiar heat to start pooling in your lower stomach, for the ache between your legs to appear.

you pull away from the kiss breathlessly, rafe looking down at you with a dazed expression, his ice-blue irises basically taken over by the black of his pupils. "can we... try something new?" you breathe out, causing him to raise his brows.

"like what?"

the moment that rafe's brows raised in question, your hand was on his bulge, rubbing him through the denim fabric in a way that caused rafe to let out a noise that was between a moan and whine. you slowly started to unbuckle his belt, rafe's breath held with every part of the process as he watched you to undo the button of his jeans, each little crunch of his zipper causing his pants to feel even tighter.

you tugged his jeans lower, palming rafe through his boxers, "i-is it okay if i take you... into my mouth?" you ask, biting down on your lip.

"w-what?" rafe mumbled in response, too blissed out to really register what you were saying. "yeah, yeah... go ahead."

you pulled down rafe's boxers, his cock springing free as your eyes widened from the sight. you'd never actually seen someone's... thing in real life, and you could feel your face heating up from the sight.

you'd read that you should have some kind of lubricant, deciding to use your saliva as you spit on the palm of your hand before hesitantly wrapping it around the base of his hardened cock, and rafe brought his hand over yours, tightening your grip, "a bit tighter, baby..."

once you squeezed slightly tighter, rafe groaned, letting go of your hand as you stroked his cock once, twice, three times… and after only a few seconds, rafe's cock started leaking with pre-cum. you brought your mouth down to the tip of his cock, your tongue darting out to taste the tangy liquid.

rafe gasped when you licked a stripe up a vein on the underside of his cock, his hips twitching and lifting off your bed, "fuck..." he mumbled, his hand going to grab your hair by the back of your head, your eyes slightly widening in surprise; you should've guessed, you'd seen it happen a lot in the films you watched.

you took the tip of rafe's cock into your mouth, trying your best to do what they recommended in the articles you'd read, in the movies you'd watched. you started bobbing your head up and down on his length while rafe's hand was in your hair, gently guiding you. you tried taking him in deeper, triggering your gag reflex as his head hit the back of your throat, and although it made you feel dizzy, rafe let out a loud gasp, a shudder running down his spine.

you continued sucking him off, occasionally stroking the shaft, rafe's breathing becoming more uncontrolled, the man letting out small whispers of your name.

but when you took him in deeper again until the tip of his cock met the back of your throat, triggering your gagging reflex again, and even though rafe clearly enjoyed it, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, the man pulled you away from his cock, his hand on your chin.

"what are you doing?" he asked with a slightly dazed look on his face. causing you to frown as you looked up at him through your thick lashes, a confused pout on your lips.

"i... i thought you'd like that."

"i did, but i can tell you didn't. what's up?" his brows were furrowed as he cupped your cheek, "baby?"

"i just..." you sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "i read that it's more enjoyable... to..." you hid your face behind your hands, "forget it! it's really embarrassing..."

rafe took hold of your wrists, gently moving them away from your face, intertwining your fingers with his, "baby, just... just relax." he sighed, "i just want you to be comfortable. don't do anything you're not comfortable with."

he brought his hand to your lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it, before doing the same to the other hand before letting go of them, lifting your chin up so you were looking at him. "i don't want you reading some dumbass advice forums. don't do something that's not comfortable. let's just take things at our own pace, sunshine."

"alright…" you breathe out, "then… just help me." you smile softly, your cheeks warming up.

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mlw][mdni][part 2 of this][fingering][edging][daddy kink][hair pulling][missionary][knees to the chest][passionate][begging][subtle breeding kink][whiny dick][doggy style][pussydrunk man>>][could see him as a girldad][not proofread]

"And— And— I saw a clownfish. Like, like Nemo. And I saw crabs. And— and I saw the big, big fish that's like—" Riot's tiny arms outstretch as far as they can, eyes wide and emphatic, "bigger than this."

He stands in the kitchen, sock-clad feet pittering after Alfred as he continues to break down each and every sighting of the aquarium. The older man stares down at him, grin stretching to no end because it reminds him of when Bruce was no taller than his knee, breaking down each thing he saw at galas and events in the late evening hours when he was supposed to be asleep.

"I thought you were going to the museum." Alfred hums. "Why the change of plans?"

And Riot hums, rocking back and forth on his feet. "We wanted to go, but someone took a painting so we didn't. So we went to see the fishies."

"And what was your favourite part?" Alfred hums softly, weathered eyes crinkling at the corners as he watched the way chubby fingers carefully grab different utensils from the different dish washer compartments, holding them out to for Alfred to pack away in the cupboards far too high.

"The touch tank!" Riot chirps, before letting out an excited gasp. "So many fishies. And—" Tubby hands flail excitedly. "And sharks."

Alfred hums almost thoughtfully.

"And did you get to touch the sharks?" Alfred questions, so animated and inquisitive and the giggle Riot lets out is the most heartwarming sound he's heard in a long while.

The sound of a child being simply what they are;

A child.

Not a vigilante, not a hero.

"No, silly Grampy." Chonky hands cover his mouth as he giggles. "The touch tank had the sea cucumbers, and the starfishies."

Alfred melts. Scooping Riot up in his arms, lithe muscles shifting beneath the flesh as he rests the boy on his hip before moving into the lounge, staring Bruce dead in the eye.

"I am 'Grampy', Master Bruce." Alfred gleams, the apples of his cheeks rising and Bruce simply scowls, before looking down at Riot who watches him with wide eyes. Head tilting before covering his hand with his mouth.

"Daddy?" Riot's voice is tiny as he holds his arms out to Bruce, making grabby hands as his eyes well up.

The room goes dead silent, Duke's hand moves to cover his mouth, eyes darting between Bruce, Riot and Dick. Because the tea is piping right now.

And you let out a snort, raising your glass to your lips. "You can't con these ones, baby, they have the money for DNA tests."

And Riot huffs, tiny fists wiping away fat tears before he hops down from Alfred's hip, giving the older man's hand a sweet, and affectionate squeeze before he moves towards you, soft footsteps carrying him towards you, and he stands between your thighs, hands bracing on your legs and you huff.

"Never let me have anything." You murmur under your breath, before one of your hands rest beneath Riot's chin, while you let him have a sip of your juice. Tiny hands clasp around the cool glass, although your hand remains on it to prevent a little accident.

And Dick's just so... Smitten.

Brilliant blue eyes locked on the way your thumb so carefully brushes away a stray droplet of juice, pretty eyes locked on the chubby features of your baby as he, undoubtedly, judges the Wayne household. All except Alfred, probably.

Dick brushes back long, muscular fingers through his hair, easing back against the backrest before extending his legs, crossing them at the ankles and his tongue runs over his teeth when he watches the way Riot plants himself next to you.

Looking at everyone.

Before zeroing in on Duke.

"Signal."

Riot's singular utter makes the room go silent. Dead silent, and shared glances are shared, before Duke lets out a laugh, elbows braced on his knees and he leans forward.

"What makes you think that, little man?" Duke hums, tone light and easy, despite the fact that his brain is moving at 1 000 000 miles a minute.

"I haven't seen a lot of black people in Gotham."

The words leave the little boy's lips and you nearly spit out your juice before looking at Riot, eyes wide and lips pursed to hide a laugh that you know might be distasteful.

"Riot, baby, no. Don't—you could've mentioned literally anything else. Like the slight glow, or the black and yellow shoes or anything else." You pinch the bridge of your nose when Riot lets out a giggle in response.

"But m'funnier."

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ❄️་༘࿐

"You should've told me about him." Dick's voice is a quiet murmur and you simply let out a sigh, your fingers deftly folding a tiny pajamas set, as well as several pairs of underwear and socks, stuffing them into a Spiderman backpack.

It's something you've been hearing all day. In the quiet whispers of wind rustling the branches of the trees, the crunch of gravel beneath each of your footsteps as Dick would carry Riot on his hip, watching as the little boy points out the different breeds of dog that were scattered in the park.

Fuck, you even heard it in the bubbles let out by different fish as you walked past tanks because never in a million years, had the thought even crossed your mind, that Dick would be ecstatic to be a dad.

You didn't think of the way a smile would stretch so effortlessly on his stupidly perfect face whenever Riot would point out something, you didn't think of the way he'd be so happy to take pictures of his son in front of different tanks. You didn't think of the way his breath would visibly stutter when Riot would ask for his first family picture, and you didn't think of the way his eyes would meet yours as you both blew raspberries against the giggling and rosy cheeks of your baby.

"I don't know, Ri—" "Don't call me that, please." Dick breathes out softly, blue eyes softening as he looks down at you, taking the balled up socks from your hand and setting them back down, and his hands move to hold your hands. And Dick forces you to look at him, as he guides one of your hands to cup his cheek.

The warmth of his palm isn't something you've forgotten. Just like the length of his fingers. Musician's hands, if anything.

"Don't talk to me like you don't know me."

Dick's voice is soft as he tilts his head, pressing a kiss to your palm. "You know me. You knew me twice on your couch last night." Dick adds, the offhanded comment bringing a reluctant smile to your lips and he hums out a chuckle, before stepping closer to you, forcing you to crane your neck backwards. And Dick cups your face in his hands.

"Don't shut me out." He speaks so softly. "Not again."

The way Dick looks at you nearly makes you melt, all soft eyes and warm palms, cradling your face like you're the most precious thing to walk the Earth.

And Dick swallows.

Long lashes fluttering so prettily, before his tongue darts out, dragging across his pinkened bottom lip.

"Open up to me..." He breathes out, so sweetly. "Please, baby."

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ❄️་༘࿐

"That's a good girl... There she is, open up for me more, pretty..."

"Dickie...."

Your voice is a hoarse whimper, legs tossed over Dick's broad thighs, your panties and pants abandoned across the surface of whatever furniture was the nearest as dextrous digits continue to push past your gummy walls.

Your nails dig into his thighs, lashes fluttering with each curl of his fingers and moans slip past your lips whenever his lips brush against the curve of your ear. Tracing the shell with his tongue, before pulling your lobe into his mouth, teeth brushing against the sensitive skin.

"Nobody's taken care of this pretty pussy since me, huh?" Dick coos softly, fingers pulling out of you only to give you those delightful, teasing smacks against your neglected clit, watching the way your thighs burn to close. And he does it again.

Light smacks that make your hole clench around nothing, whines slipping past your lips.

And you nod your head weakly, toes curling in your socks and Dick croons to you, so sweet as he presses a kiss against your pulse.

"Shhhh, it's okay, gorgeous. Daddy's home."

His fingers circle your clit so attentively, brilliant blue eyes darkened by lust and want, watching as your face screws up and your hips buck in his lap, pleasure nearly blinding and he's not even making you come yet.

Dick's prolonging it because well, you just look so pretty when slick oozes from you, puffy pussy glossy with your wetness, eyes teary and your bottom lip is wedged between your teeth.

Your face is flushed, rosy cheeks with beads of sweat gathering at your temples and Dick hums softly, pushing his middle finger into your needy cunt. All the way to the knuckle, before pulling out all the way, just to trace your gooey slit with the tips of his fingers.

And you whine.

"Dick, please." The sound of your voice so weak has Dick straining against his boxers, his lashes flutter and he lets himself breathe, just to get a hold of himself.

He's a bit of a people pleaser and God, does he wanna please you.

And Dick swallows, before nodding his head, shifting you off his lap and instead, guiding you to rest against the backrest, thighs spread obscenely wide and your feet resting on the seats on either side of you.

And Dick's head dips low, taking a deep breath of the scent of you. Your slick, your pussy, everything. It all just makes him so dizzy that he leans forward without a second's notice, tongue curling against your clit and Dick moans when your fingers find purchase in his hair.

Lovely digits curl around the thick locks and he hums, nodding his head.

"That's it, baby." He hums. "Pull my hair."

Dick's whimper is hypnotic when you tug on the raven strands, guiding his face back to your pussy where his lips wrap around the sensitive nub, suckling at it so earnestly.

And your hips buck and twitch, hands readjusting their grip and instead, grabbing the back of his head, moving him closer.

"That's it, pretty. Make yourself feel good— Come on my fucking tongue."

Your feet leave the surface of the sofa, knees nearly pulled up all the way and Dick's having the fucking time of his life when you tug him this way and that way by his hair.

Dick's tongue dips into your core, prodding around the gummy insides as the ball of his nose grinds against your clit and you're coming. Clenching around his tongue, tangling your fingers in his hair and wrapping your thighs around his neck.

The sounds you make are melodious, gasps, and breaths leaving you like you ran a marathon, all as he continues to lap at your slick cunt like a fucking animal in heat.

When Dick lifts his head, his pupils are dilated and the lower half of his face is glistening with a sheen that puts dewy makeup to shame.

Dick practically looks like he's glowing from the inside.

And he's definitely glowing when he brings your knees up to your chest, urging you to keep them there while he fumbles with his belt.

"Spread your pretty pussy for me, yeah?" Dick breathes out, eyes locked on where a peace sign has two of your digits tucked on either side of your folds, pushing your pussy lips apart and he groans at the sight of your hole.

Warm, inviting and so, so pretty.

"That's fucking perfect, baby. You're perfect." Dick's breathing heavy as he taps the flushed head of his cock against your clit, watching as your belly flexes and tightens, right before he sticks his tip in.

You're warm. You're gooey. And you're so fucking perfect, wrapping around his cock like the perfect pair of socks. And Dick whines when you squelch around him, each sinking inch making him so much more desperate to feel you come on his cock.

When Dick's balls rest against the curve of your ass, you get a feel of just how fucking heavy they are, muscular hands keep your knees anchored to your chest. And he swallows, panted breaths falling from his lips.

Dick pulls out halfway, and only halfway. Because it's damn near painful to be out of your wet heat and he's pushing back in, grinding against you each time your flesh meets his.

His head dips, long, tongue kisses pressed against your lips while his hips thrust into you, slow and meaningful, and so, sooooo fucking deep. His tongue moves against yours, the only sounds being Dick's breathy groans and the sound of skin hitting skin. Alongside the wet sounds of his tongue, wrapping around yours with the same kind of skill he eats pussy.

You can taste yourself on his tongue. But you're not too focused on that when his prettily curved cock is dragging against that spot that makes your toes curl and your eyes flutter shut, panted breaths leaving you.

"I w'na—... Mm-fuck, you're so tight, oh my god." Dick moans against your lips, pulling away to rest his forehead against yours, hot breaths fanning across your features as he looks down towards where you're split open on his fat cock. Glistening pussy taking him like you were made to.

"I wanna—" Dick swallows, a shaky breath leaving his broad chest before he pushes down on you, forcing you further into the cushions, "—wanna be a f-family."

Your breath stills in your lungs but you don't speak, simply nodding your head, urging Dick to continue as he fucks into you, feeling the way your walls flutter at the trembles that line his voice.

"I wanna— fuck, please." Dick's face presses into the curve of your neck, his arms instead coming to wrap around you, his hips beginning to snap rather quickly into you as he brings you closer. Your thighs remain against your torso, the sting in your hamstrings is apparent but not as apparent as the battering your cervix is taking.

"Please, please, please. Be with me."

Dick begs. His hips fucking into you at an almost inhuman pace, your toes curl and your vision becomes speckled and you whimper, a breathless gasp taking you over as you approach your second orgasm.

And fast.

Your mind hits a blank, your tongue threatening to loll out at the way Dick fucks you brainless, all while begging to be a family. Your belly is in knots and you're making a creamy ring at the base of him, a sight that would have Dick going crazy if he wasn't too busy hiding his rosy face in your neck.

And you nod mindlessly. "Uh huh..." You mumble weakly when you feel the sensation of Dick pulling his cock out of you, still wet with your slick and still so hard as he carefully guides you to instead, go on your hands and knees on the sofa.

Dick's knees dig into the cushions, his cock slowly sliding into you once again as the curve of your back deepens, a downright demonic arch that has him biting down a whimper at the sight alone.

His veiny hand travels down the curve, tracing the dip in your spine before grabbing the hair at the nape of your neck, fisting his fingers and tugging you just a bit back, enough for your head to lift from the cushions and your arch to deepen.

"Really?" Dick chirps so sweetly, his hips rocking into yours and his tip leaks copious amounts of precum that has him wondering if he already came.

And you nod weakly.

And you feel as Dick leans forward, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before straightening back up, his hands moving to bracket your hips.

And with your bleary ass peripheral vision, you catch a glimpse of Dick steadying himself, planting one foot on the sofa for the stability he needs.

"Now, let's... Expand the family, huh?" Dick mumbles, his voice just a bit slurred from the pussydrunkenness.

"Give me a little girl this time, okay?"

Taglist:

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@magnificentdonutcreation 🍩

[lovebugism]

Smut fic where reader and Eddie have been arguing since yesterday and he comes home from band practice and fucks her.

♡ “i was expecting a written apology but this is much better.”

ty for requesting :D — the best part of fighting with eddie, is making up with eddie (established relationship, hurt/comfort, smut 18+ | 1k)

bug's two year celebration ♡

Eddie returns home from band practice to find the trailer brimming with the scent of something sweet. An entire symphony of chocolate and vanilla and caramel — a stark contrast to the stale stench of Gareth’s garage.

He spots you standing in front of the stove, humming mindlessly to yourself as you whisk at a large bowl of miscellaneous ingredients. You’re wearing a too-big sweatshirt that hangs off one shoulder, and a pair of fluffy socks sitting unevenly at your ankles. The sight of you is undeniably sweeter than whatever it is you’re baking for him.

Eddie leaves his guitar case by the front door and floats towards the kitchen with a lopsided smile. “Ooh. Smells good in here,” he lilts in place of a real greeting as he drapes himself along your back. 

He caresses your arm with one ringed hand while the other reaches around you. He dips his pointer finger into the bowl and brings it up to his mouth, humming at the sugary taste on his tongue. “You know— I was expecting a handwritten apology,” he slurs before swallowing it down. “But this is so muchbetter.”

You dig your elbow into his ribs. Eddie winces and stumbles back.

“It’s not for you,” you correct, gaze averted as you dump a bowl of dry ingredients into the chocolate gold. “It’s for Hopper. For saving your ass.”

The reminder makes Eddie groan. After all, it wasn’t his fault that asshole got too handsy with you at the bar. He didn’t even realize he’d punched the guy until his knuckles collided with his chiseled nose. (He thought for sure his hand was broken then, but the bruises look totally metal now.) 

The cookie-cutter douchebag was hellbent on pressing charges. Chief Hopper assured the asshole that the freak would be spending the night in jail, but instead drove Eddie home in the back of his cop car. He got the talking-to of a century then, from Jim and from you — ‘cause apparently some guy flirting with you isn’t grounds for ‘assault.’ Eddie still thinks that may be too harsh a word.

He tosses his head back, wild curls slipping from his shoulders, as the counter digs into his hip. “You’re still upset about that?” he whines boyishly, then cowers at the glare you give him. “I mean… I didn’t know you were still upset about that,” he amends, more sympathetically this time.

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Yeah, you should be the one apologizing to me, Munson,” you tell him, whisking the filling with a bit more aggression than you mean to. “Or better yet, the guy you punched last night—”

“No way.”

“—You almost broke his nose.”

“Oh, please,” Eddie laughs. “He was just being a baby about it.”

“He wasn’t even doing anything to deserve it!”

“He was bothering you!”

“He was talking to me!” you shout, much harsher than he’s used to. Your eyes glitter despite the way they’ve hardened as they dart back and forth between his darker ones. “And if I can’t have a conversation with some stupid guy without you flying off the handle, then I can’t imagine what you’ll do when some idiot buys me a drink.”

Eddie softens immediately. He didn’t know you felt that way.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, gravitating towards you with unsure steps and reaching for you with a hesitant hand. When you don’t pull away from his touch, he embraces you from behind — arms wrapped around your waist, hands resting on your belly, chin bobbing on your shoulder. “Though, I’m pretty sure that’s not what you wanna hear from me right now. ‘Cause I told you I was sorry ’til I was blue in the face last night, and you still made me sleep on the couch, so…”

You can hear the crooked smile in his softly spoken words.

You fight hard to bite back your own.

“Well, maybe I’m tired of hearing how sorry you are. Maybe I just want you to prove it.” You set the bowl on the counter and skim your pointer finger over the freshly mixed concoction. “Here, open—”

His pink mouth parts. You slide your finger over the soft pad of his tongue, giving him a proper taste of the filling now that it’s finished. Eddie hums at the bittersweet taste — the sickly sugar sufficiently balanced with sea salt. He nods in wordless approval while you lick the remnants from your own finger.

“You know what would taste better, though?” he wonders aloud once he’s swallowed it down, tone dripping in mischief as his tongue darts across his lip.

Your eyes narrow. “Eddie…” you deadpan in a preemptive scold.

The boy only smirks as he coaxes you against the counter with a gentle hand on your shoulder. You grip the granite edge as he descends to his knees before you, his chocolate-eyed gaze never once wavering from yours. 

“You want me to prove it to you, right?” he asks, bruised knuckles lifting the hem of your shirt. “How sorry I am?”

You nod silently, ‘cause you couldn’t muster a cheeky quip right now if you wanted to.

“Well, I’m sorry,” Eddie tells you, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your thigh. You bite back a shiver when his wild curls brush the insides of them. Chills pebble faintly over the skin there, and he smiles. “I’m sorry,” he says once more, punctuated this time by a kiss to the bow of your underwear.

Your breath catches when his pointer finger dips beneath the panty line. His rings brush your burning skin as he slides the fabric to the side. Eddie smirks when he catches your unwavering gaze, as glassy as the sparkling skin of your wet pussy. You can act all mean when you want to, but your body can never pretend with him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, just before licking a fat stripe up the length of your cunt.

Your lips fall softly agape at the warm, satin feeling of his mouth pressed against the most sensitive parts of you. Your head tilts back as your airy moan fills the silent kitchen. The pie you were making is now long forgotten. You’re much sweeter in comparison, anyway.

[parkersgarage]

a/n: me when I open up the drafts immediately after watching the second season. something simple for now 👍

kdrama! yeon sieun x gn!reader | 595 wc | no major warnings, no spoilers, mentions injury (bruising)

“Did you get into a fight again?”

Sieun turns at the voice—not his mother, not even his head imagining things—but you. Standing in the middle of the apartment with tears in the corner of your eyes, just staring at him under the dim light.

His fingers twitch at his sides, palm itching as if it hurt him to keep his hands from moving. “I did.”

Sieun always found it hard to lie to you. That was one of his greatest faults that he could never fix. You always saw right through him.

“Come to me.” His brow twitches, but he stays in place despite your words. You don’t move either, feet planted firmly in your spot before your arms cross over your chest. “When you get injured– when your friends you’ve told me about– if and when they get hurt, you guys come to me. Alright?”

He nods slightly, hesitating because, essentially, he was adding you to the list of people he has to worry about. Though you always were at the top, now it seemed more detrimental than ever.

They’d already shown up to Suho, after all. Who knows what would happen if they’d come to you.

Your socks shuffle against the hardwood floor as you walk towards him, fingers brushing against the bruises along his cheek. “You don’t have to worry about me. I can handle myself.”

“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t worry.”

Your hand freezes against his skin, eyes darting between his as he stares at you, a hardened glare– yet no malice within it. “Right. Okay.”

His fingers wrap around your wrist unexpectedly, eyes snapping to your hand as he slowly brings it away from his face. “How did you find out?”

“Word gets around fast.” You say, heartbeat quickening when he takes a step closer to you. “You know, high schoolers love to talk.”

He releases your hand with a hum, brushing past you to walk to his room, turning around just before he reaches his door. “Are you staying?”

You look towards your shoes at the door, tapping your fingers against your thigh as silence fills the room while he waits for your response. “I ca–”

“It’s late.” Your head turns to him, jolting when he stands right in front of you. “You should stay.”

In a rare moment, Sieuns’ eyes tell you something you’d never heard before.

I need you here. Stay. Don’t go.

You wonder how it was possible to get all that from a simple look, but his eyes never once held anything but the truth. It was his tell.

“Okay,” your fingers twitch against the back of his hand when you feel it brush against yours, your pinky wrapping hesitantly with his. “Alright.”

The light flickers off, and the apartment is silent except for the buzzing light from the streets outside and the floor creaking under your and Sieuns’ steps. The bed dips as you settle down, and your arm absentmindedly wraps around him, clutching onto the fabric of his shirt.

Sieun couldn’t tell if you were grounding him or yourself. But he wouldn’t brush you off.

Another thing he finds himself incapable of doing.

“Get some rest.” You whispered, breath brushing against the nape of his neck. He almost pulls away, almost.

He replies with a hum, eyes flitting to the alarm clock across from him, sighing at the time. “You too.”

Your fingers flex against his shirt, clutching tighter, and your head presses into his back. Sieun stays silent, watching the numbers on the clock change until he hears your breathing even out.

[barnacles34]

Bells and Whistles (Professional Hazard pt. 1.1)

Karina x Male Reader

18+

It's three days after that beautiful night. Still in Rome.

The voicemail plays in the quiet of her bedroom. First: silence. Then a sharp intake of breath that makes your pulse jump. 

Your thumb hovers over the phone as her voice breaks into those familiar wet sounds that have been haunting you all afternoon.

'If you play that one more time—'

'Shh. This is art.'

She's burrowed in her fortress of quilts, only eyes visible over the edge. A paperback lies abandoned by her hip.

'Delete it.' But her voice has gone soft around the edges.

'Not a chance.' You take your time with your shoes. Let her watch the deliberate movements. 'This is better than your debut song—and you know how much I love that song.’'

'You're awful.' The quilt slips as she shifts. 'I was desperate.'

'Were you?' You tap the phone, find that specific moment where her voice catches. 'Tell me about desperate.'

Her sock-covered foot sneaks out, hooks behind your knee. Tugs. 'Twenty minutes for milk. Who takes twenty minutes for milk?'

'Someone wearing very expensive, very tight jeans.'

'Someone being cruel.'

You catch her ankle mid-retreat. The quilt falls away, reveals cotton shorts still damp from earlier. Your thumb finds the arch of her foot, presses. She makes that sound again—the one from the voicemail.

'Cruel?' Your fingers trace higher. 'I'm not the one sending pornographic voicemails in the middle of the day.'

'I didn't—' She breaks off as your hand slides up her calf.

'No?' You hit play again. Her recorded gasp fills the room. 'What would you call this then?'

She bites her knuckle. You replace it with your thumb, let her teeth graze the pad.

'That noise you made,' you murmur. 'Right at the end. Makes me feel invincible.'

'Yeah?' Her tongue darts out, tastes salt.

'Like I could do anything. Find Atlantis. Solve world peace.' You brush her temple with your lips. 'Handle two of you.'

She snorts, shoves at your chest. 'You can barely handle one.'

'Want to test that theory?'

The laughter dies in her throat as your palm finds her inner thigh. Heat blooms under cotton.

'Stay.' Her fingers twist in your shirt like anchors. 'I'll send more. A dozen. Two dozen.'

'Greedy girl.'

Her eyes crinkle at the corners. 'Your fault.'

When you kiss her, she melts like she's been waiting all day.

Her tongue maps the ridges of your teeth, memorizing territory she already knows by heart.

‘Cheater,’ she gasps when you pinch the clasp of her bra.

‘Architect.’

Her shorts fall. The quilt tangles around her hips. She arches when your mouth finds her neck. Whimpers when your teeth follow.

‘Still deleting it.’ She breathes.

‘Try.’

You hit playback again. Her moan swells—raw, unfiltered—as your fingers slide into her.

‘Fuck.’ Her head thrashes. ‘That’s—’

‘—Proof.’ You curl your fingers. ‘You’re my religion.’

She chokes on a laugh. A sob. Her hips stutter. You drink the sounds from her lips. Let her nails carve half-moons into your shoulders.

Later, when she’s boneless and blinking up at you, she traces your collarbone.

‘Twelve voicemails,’ she yawns.

‘Thirteen.’

‘Why thirteen?’

You press her palm to your chest. Let her feel the gallop. ‘One for every time I died at this very second.’

She stills.

Her teeth flash. Dangerous. Devoted. ‘Gladly.’

Your fingers move lazy. Slow. Dragging out every twitch, every choked gasp. She arches into your hand, sweat gluing her bangs to her temples.

‘Still… deleting it.’ She pants, hips circling.

‘Try harder.’ You crook your fingers. Watch her back bow.

Her moan syncs with the recording still playing softly nearby—a stereo echo of need. You drink the sound. Memorize the way her throat flutters.

It’s pulsing, it’s so wet and hot. Sucking in your fingers like quicksand.

‘You’re mean.’ She whines.

‘Mean?’ Your thumb swipes. ‘You begged for this. Remember?’

The voicemail crackles: “—can’t sleep, can’t think, just… please—”

You smirk. Kiss her inner thigh. Salt and jasmine. Her hips jerk.

‘No—wait—’ Her hand fists your hair. Doesn’t push. Doesn’t pull. Trembles.

You nuzzle the damp cotton. ‘Scared?’

‘Never.’

Her shorts peel away. You linger—inhale her, lips hovering. She whimpers.

You chuckle. ‘Even your pussy smells like jasmine.’

‘Please.’

The first lick is a tease. A glancing blow. She curses. The second? A vow.

You map her with your tongue—slow, reverent. Learn the rhythm that makes her thighs clamp your ears. The angle that steals her words. She’s wildfire in your mouth.

‘There—oh god, there—’

You double down. Fingers curl inside her. Thumb presses just so.

Her scream is raw. Beautiful. The quilt soaks. You don’t let up—suck gently as she shakes, drag your tongue through every pulse until she’s clawing the sheets.

Her juices quicken, a pungent musk of sex that’s just pure fucking sin—and you’re sucking it up like a thirsty dog.

Your tongue drags a slow circle around her clit—not touching it. Just tracing the swollen bud through her folds. She whines, thighs tensing.

‘Tease.’

‘Worshipper.’ you correct.

Her hips lift. You press her back down with a palm to her stomach. Feel the muscles flutter, feel the soft cream-like softness of her beautiful midriff.

First contact: a glancing lick. Just the tip of your tongue skating over her clit. She gasps. You catalog the sound—high, sharp, yours.

‘Again.’ She breathes.

You oblige. Slower this time. Let your tongue flatten, drag wet heat across her, bury your nose into her pelvis. Her fingers knot in the sheets.

‘Good?’

‘More.’

You hum. Vibration ripples through her. She jerks.

‘Easy,’ you murmur against her. ‘Let me learn you.’

Your thumbs part her folds. Expose her fully—glistening, flushed, pulse visible in the throb of her clit. You blow gently. Watch her clench, flesh constricting.

‘Cruel—’ A high moan escapes her.

‘Thorough.’

The first proper lick steals her voice. You start slow. Broad strokes from entrance to clit, savoring her tang. Her thighs quiver.

‘There,’ she hisses when your tongue flicks her clit. ‘God, there—’

You zero in. Flick. Flick. Steady rhythm. Her breath hitches.

‘Don’t stop—don’t—’

You switch tactics—suck gently. Her back arches.

‘Yes—like—ah—’

Her clit hardens under your tongue. You trace circles around it, avoiding direct contact. She sobs.

‘Please—’

You reward her: firm pressure, rapid flicks. Her hips stutter. You pin her down, red blooming around the hold you have over her stomach—relentless.

‘Close—I’m close—’

You slide two fingers inside. Curl. Her walls clamp.

‘Fuck—fuck—’

Her clit pulses under your tongue. You suck harder.

She shatters.

A broken scream. Hips grinding against your face. You ride her through it—tongue gentling, fingers stilling.

‘Too much—’

You kiss her inner thigh. Two more kisses along the outer lips. Taste salt. ‘Beautiful.’

She trembles. ‘Again.’

Her thighs tremble as she nudges you onto your back. The mattress dips under her weight. You reach to touch her face—always reaching—but she catches your wrist. Presses it to the pillow. 

Her grip isn’t firm. A request, not a demand.

‘Let me,’ she murmurs.

You nod.

Her lips start at your collarbone—a closed-mouth kiss that lingers. She exhales warm breath against the hollow of your throat. You swallow. She smiles against your skin.

Another kiss. Lower. The swell of your pectoral. The scar from that cat. Her tongue traces the jagged edge. You hiss.

The way her thick hair travels along your chest tickles. The soothing aroma of her shampoo almost paralyzing you.

Her teeth graze your nipple. Bite down just enough to make your hips jerk. The denim of your jeans rasps against her bare thighs.

‘Off,’ she says.

‘What’s the magic word?’

Her eyes flick up. Dark. Glossy with submission. ‘Please.’

You sit up to shuck your jeans. She pushes you back down. ‘Let me.’

Her fingers fumble with your belt. The leather slips. She growls—a sound you’ve only heard when she lost at Mario Kart the day before. You bite your cheek. Laughter threatens release.

‘Shut up.’

‘Didn’t say anything.’

The belt clatters to the floor. Your boxers follow. Cool air hits your cock. Her breath follows—warm, uneven.

‘Look at me,’ you say.

She does. Pupils blown. Lips parted. A string of saliva connects her tongue to her lower lip.

‘Beautiful,’ you murmur.

She flushes. Looks away.

Your thumb hooks her chin. ‘Eyes here, sweetheart.’

A whimper escapes her. She obeys.

The first lick is tentative. A kitten testing cream. Her tongue swipes the underside of your cock. Your abs clench in response.

‘Jimin—’

‘Shh.’

Her lips wrap the head. Suck gently. Your groan claws its way out. She moans in response—vibration traveling straight to your spine.

Fuck.

Her hand wraps your shaft. Strokes in time with her mouth. Too dry. Too rough. Perfection.

‘Condom?’ she mumbles around you, the slightest gap allowed for conversation.

‘Later.’

She hums. The sound liquefies your bones.

And she continues. Swollen lips wrapped around your length, tongue slightly pushing on the underside.

Her free hand drifts between her legs. You catch it.

‘Focus.’

‘Meanie.’

You guide her head back down. ‘Earn it.’

She takes you deeper. Smoldering eye contact as she inches closer to the hilt, whereupon her nose almost makes contact with your pelvic bone. Gags. Pulls off. Coughs.

Strings of thick spit follow her mouth as she wipes.

‘Okay?’

‘Perfect.’

She tries again. Slower. Breathing through her nose. Her throat opens. Takes you to the root this time. Tears spill.

You bite down on your lip.

Her nails dig into your thighs. Sting. Ground. 

She finds a rhythm—suck, release, swirl. Strings of spit travel down your length. Where her thumb massages your balls with the spit. Your vision blurs.

Amidst it all, she’s staring into you—daring you to force her down on your cock. Begging, even.

‘Close,’ you warn.

She pulls off. Strokes you fast. ‘Come.’

You arch. ‘Where?’

Her tongue darts out. Catches the first pearl of cum. ‘Everywhere.’

The orgasm rips through you. Strips you raw. You spill across her lips, her chin, the swell of her breasts. She licks her lips. Grins.

‘Good?’

‘Amazing.’

She crawls up your body. Fully swallowing the load, then pressing a light kiss on your cheek.

Her mouth lingers on your cheekbone—wet, warm. The kiss sticks when she pulls back. Milky streaks still glisten between her breasts. You thumb one. She shivers.

‘Messy,’ you murmur.

‘Yours.’

Her nipples graze your chest as she straddles you. Heat blooms where skin meets skin. You palm her ribs. Feel the rabbit-quick thrum beneath.

Her hips lift. Your cock nudges her entrance. Slick. Swollen. You hold still. Make her work for it.

‘Please.’ She breathes, sinking down.

Heat swallows you. Tight. Quivering. You bite your tongue. Blood blooms.

She moves like water—slow swirls, thighs trembling. Her breasts sway. You catch one. Lick the salt from its curve.

‘Look at me.’

She doesn’t. Eyes screwed shut. Hair plastered to her neck. Hot and heavy with arousal.

You pinch her nipple. Gentle. Cruel. ‘Look.’

She whimpers. Lashes lift. Pupils black as oil spills.

‘Good girl.’

She whimpers. Clenches. Your fingers dig into her hips.

‘Faster.’

‘Make me.’

You buck up. She gasps. Nails score your chest.

‘Cheat—’

Her rhythm fractures. Hips stuttering. You let her chase it—the sweet friction, the burn. Her moans pitch higher.

‘Close—I’m close—,’ she whimpers.

You still her hips. ‘Wait.’

She sobs. ‘Please—’

‘Say it.’

Your thumb finds her clit. Circles.

She breaks. ‘Yours. Always yours.’

You release her. Let her slam down. Take what she needs.

Her orgasm rips through both of you—convulsions, bitten-off cries. Her rhythmic roll of hips turns frenzied. You let her ride it. Milk every pulse. 

After all, you’re obsessed—crazy about her.

When she collapses, you roll her over. Press into the sweat-slick hollow of her back.

‘Again.’

She shakes her head. Weak.

You bite her shoulder. ‘Again.’

Her body opens. Always opens. You grip your cock along her swollen slit, the sticky wetness almost  drives you mad. Regardless, you fuck her slow this time. 

Deep. Dragging each thrust. Feeling how her pussy drags on your cock, slick wet sounds singing into your ears.

‘Feel it?’

She nods. Pillow muffling her whines.

Your hand slides under. Cups her breast. Squeezes.

You curl over her. Chest to heaving back. Lips to her ear.

​​Her lips linger at your ear—sticky with confession. You taste salt when she pulls away. The room smells of sex and the spilt vanilla candle she lit hours ago, wax pooling like liquid amber.

She softly guides your hand to her throat. Your thumb finds the pulse. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. A trapped bird.

"Harder," she whispers.

You tighten. Feel her swallow.

Her breasts press against your chest as she arches, nipples pebbling against your scars. The heat between her legs slicks your thigh.

"Inside.’

You flip her. Sheets snag her knees. She whines. You bite the sound from her lips.

Her hands fist the headboard. You press into her slow. Molten velvet. Her moan fractures.

‘Eyes.’

She obeys. Always obeys.

You move. Deliberate. Each thrust a psalm. Her breasts sway—heavy, flushed. You palm one. Squeeze. Milk-white skin blooms red.

‘More—’

‘Quiet.’

She bites her wrist. You replace it with your fingers.

‘Sing for me.’

Her cry splinters the air. You swallow it. Fuck her deeper.

The headboard knocks the wall. Syncopated. Her ankles lock at your waist. Pull. Beg.

‘Who?’ you demand.

‘Yours.’

‘Louder.’

‘Yours~!’

The word still ringing when you slam into her. No finesse. Piston hips. Her breasts slap your chest—heat and sweat and jasmine.

She chokes. Nails rake your back. ‘Too—’

‘Take it.’

Her legs lock. Ankles digging into your behind. You fuck her like proving a point. Jackhammer rhythm. Headboard cracks plaster.

Dust rains down as you drag her hips back, slam into her harder. No rhythm now—just ruin.

She chokes on a scream, face mashed into the quilt, ass raised like an offering.

Your grip bruises her waist, fingers denting flesh as you split her open again. Again. Again and again. 

You can feel your balls hit the wetness of her pussy, smacking wet sounds onto her slit.

‘Take it.’ You grind deeper, pelvis punishing her clit with each thrust. Her thighs quiver, slick with sweat and your earlier release. ‘Wanted me rough? Here.’

She sobs into the mattress, voice shredded. ‘T-too—’

‘You don’t get to.’ You fist her hair, yank her head back. Her spine bows, throat exposed. ‘You begged for this. Remember?’

A nod. A whimper.

You snarl, slamming home. The wet slap of skin-on-skin drowns her cries. Her nails claw the sheets, nearly ripping threads. You lean over her, teeth scoring her shoulder. 

Her scream cracks as you pin her wrists, pound into her like you’re exorcising ghosts.

The bed groans. Her breasts sway, nipples raw from your mouth. She’s so tight, clenching around your cock like she’s trying to keep you trapped inside.

‘Gonna break you,’ you rasp, thumb digging into her asshole.

She shrieks, back arching. ‘P-please—’

‘Please what?’

‘Ruin me—’

You do. Hips pistoning, sweat stinging the bite marks on her neck. You don’t stop—can’t stop—driving into her convulsions until your vision whites out.

She sobs. High. Broken. ‘There there there~!’

Your thumb finds her clit. Grind. Her scream lodges in your teeth.

‘Come.’

‘Can’t—can’t—’

You bite her shoulder. ‘Come.’

She shatters. Walls milking. Clenching. Begging without words.

You drill deeper. Tip hitting that spongy ache. Her eyes roll back.

‘Gonna fill you,’ you snarl.

‘Please please—’

One last thrust. Hilt-deep.

You rupture.

Whiteout. Earthquake hips. Flood her until your knees buckle.

She collapses into the fault line you’ve carved. Whimpers when you pull out. Spend drips down her thigh.

Her finger swipes it—all that cumulative spend coupled along her swollen cunt. Lets the slurry couple along her tongue.

‘I love how you taste.’

‘God. You’re too fucking perfect.’ You drop down onto her. Cuddling.

Moonlight spills through the curtains. She's tucked against you, all soft edges now.

'You okay?' Your fingers ghost over her shoulder.

'Mm.' A pause. 'Was it too much?'

'Never.'

'But I was...' She shifts slightly. 'I got carried away.'

'Hey.' You tilt her chin up. 'That's what I love about you.'

'What? Being a mess?'

'Being real.'

She burrows closer. 'Still. Sorry if I—'

'Don't you dare apologize.'

'But—'

'Want some water?'

'If you move, I'll write a very detailed exposé about you.'

'About what? My green tea addiction?'

'Chapter One: The Man Who Chose Hydration Over Cuddles.'

'Riveting.'

'Mm. I'll even include citations.'

Your fingers trace idle patterns on her arm. 'What's Chapter Two?'

'Our future kids being haunted by your tea collection.'

'Kids, huh?'

'Tiny humans who'll only drink iced americanos.'

'In winter? That's grounds for custody battle.'

She pinches your side. 'They'll be perfect.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah. Little artists with their mom's smile and their dad's terrible sense of humor.'

'My humor is exquisite.'

'You'll teach them to be insufferable.'

'And you'll teach them to be beautiful.'

She props herself up. Hair mussed, eyes soft. 'Where should we live?'

'Somewhere quiet. With big windows.'

'And a garden?'

'For your flowers and my tea herbs.'

'Domestic.' She wrinkles her nose. 'I like it.'

You pull her closer. 'We'll need a library.'

'For bedtime stories?'

'And quiet mornings.'

'With a reading nook?'

'Big enough for three.'

'Four,' she corrects. 'Maybe five.'

'Ambitious.'

She kisses your jaw. 'Thought you could handle anything.'

'Try me.'

'Five kids. All girls. All with my stubbornness.'

'Terrifying.'

'But worth it.'

You thread fingers through her hair. 'Worth everything.'

'Even giving up your tea collection?'

'Now you're pushing it.'

She laughs, soft and real. 'I'll let you keep the fancy cups.'

'Generous.'

'I know.' She yawns. 'I'm a catch.'

'The biggest.'

Her fingers trail your chest. 'Hey.'

'Mm?'

'Think our kids will be tall?'

'With your genes? Doubtful.'

She bites your shoulder. 'I'm average height.'

'For a garden gnome.'

'For a normal person.’ She groans.

‘—Who has been crushed ever so slightly by a hydraulic press.’

‘Ugh.’ She falls back into the bed.

‘We need a shower.’

She huffs. ‘No, I need a shower.’

‘Hm?’

‘I know what you’re gonna do: act like it’s a shower then nail me for the next half-hour in there.’

‘Oh?’

‘Don’t oh me. My legs are still sore from the cumulative effects of the past 3 days’

'Fine.' You pull her closer. 'Five more minutes.'

'Five turns into fifty with you.'

'Can you blame me?'

She traces patterns on your chest. 'I have to be at the airport by six.'

'Skip it.'

'Right. I'll just tell my company I found something better to do.'

'Like?'

'Like getting ravished by a journalist with no self-control.'

'Sounds reasonable to me.'

Her laugh is soft. Sad. 'I can’t let go of this.'

'This?'

'You.' She props herself up. 'Your stupid jokes. Your hands. The way you look at me like I'm...'

Your fingers find her hair. 'How long?'

'A week. Maybe two.'

'I'll die.'

'Drama queen.'

'No, actually die. Waste away. They'll write articles: Local Writer Perishes From Karina Deficiency.'

She smacks your chest. 'Stop.'

'My last words will be "if only she'd stayed one more day."'

'I hate you.'

'You love me.'

'Yeah.' She kisses your jaw. 'That's the problem.'

She sits up suddenly. 'Wait. What if—'

'What if?'

'My apartment in Seoul has a separate entrance. Service elevator.' The words tumble out. 'Nobody uses it except staff. And I have this office, connected to my room—'

'Jimin.'

'—could set up a desk there. Get you one of those fancy writing chairs. And there's this cafe nearby, really private, the owner's super discrete—'

You prop yourself up. Watch her plan your smuggling with bright eyes.

'The security team changes rotation at 2AM.' She's drawing invisible blueprints on your chest. 'That's when we could—'

'Breathe, baby.'

'I'm serious.' Her fingers curl against your skin. 'I've thought about this. A lot. Like, embarrassingly a lot.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah.' She ducks her head. 'Have the whole thing mapped out in my head. When to sneak you in. Which staff to trust. Where to hide your toothbrush.'

'My toothbrush gets its own strategic planning?'

'Everything gets strategic planning.' She looks up. 'I'd make it work. I'd make it perfect.'

'Jimin.'

'I know it's crazy.' Her voice cracks. 'But I can't—the thought of not—'

You pull her down. Kiss her forehead, her temple, the corner of her mouth. 'Tell me more about this secret entrance.'

She breathes against your neck. 'Really?'

'Really. Though I should warn you—'

'What?'

'My toothbrush is high-maintenance. Needs its own security detail.'

She laughs, wet and relieved. 'I'm being pathetic.'

'You're being perfect.' Your thumb catches a tear. 'And I'm taking notes.'

'Yeah?'

'Mm yeah. Finally found my title: "How to Smuggle a Writer: A Professional Hazard."'

Jimin nuzzles into you further. Purring at this moment of peace.

2 Weeks Later

Dawn creeps through her expensive curtains. She's wrapped around you like a koala, skin on skin, taking up more space than her tiny frame should allow.

You try to slip away. Her arms tighten.

'No,' she mumbles against your chest.

'Tea.'

'Lies.'

'Green tea.'

'Worse lies.'

But she lets you go, rolling into the warm spot you leave behind. You pause at the door—she's barely covered by the sheet, hair a mess across your pillow. Perfect.

The kitchen gleams in morning light. That copper kettle she insisted on buying catches the sun—"Because proper tea needs proper tools," she'd declared, like your entire existence before her was barbaric.

She pads in almost-naked just as the water's heating, with your discarded shirt from yesterday.

'Cold?'

'Miss you already.'

'I'm right here.'

'Too far.' She hooks her chin over your shoulder, arms sliding around your waist. 'What blend?'

'The one you say you hate.'

'Mm. The grassy one?'

'Getting better at this.'

She hums against your skin. Already reaching for her cup—the blue ceramic one that somehow migrated from the hotel to her apartment.

First sip. Her eyes close.

'Well?'

'It’s okay.' She takes another sip. 'Bland. I guess.'

She grins wide as you turn around. Getting closer to you, inhaling the smell of your fresh t-shirt. 

'Noted.' You kiss her temple. 'Want the rest of mine too?'

'Yes.' A sleepy smile. 'But only because I love you.'

'Of course.' Your greatest triumph: her, here, stealing your tea and your heart. 'Only because of that.'

'Want breakfast?' She's already moving to the fridge.

'You're cooking?'

'Don't sound so scared.' She pulls out eggs, something that looks suspiciously gourmet. 'I've been practicing. Besides, I’m tired of eating the coal you call food, and the bacteria colony I call food.'

'Since when?'

'Since I decided to be domestic.' She hip-checks you away from the counter. 'Go sit. Let me work.'

You watch her move around the kitchen. Something's different. A nervousness in her hands, a flutter in her movements.

'Stop staring.'

She’s revelling in it, how she gets you dumb-struck every time you get a glance of her.

Too cute.

'Can't help it.'

She sets a plate in front of you. Simple breakfast. Eggs. Toast. But arranged with careful precision. Something white peeking out from under the toast.

'Fancy.' You reach for your fork.

'Wait.' Her fingers twist in your shirt. 'Look under.'

'Under the toast?'

She nods. Not breathing.

You lift the bread. There's a small note. Written as small as her hands would allow. 

‘Pregnant.’

The world stops.

'Jimin.'

'I know it's fast.' The words rush out. 'I know we just—but I've been feeling strange and the test was just sitting there in my bathroom for days and I finally—this morning while you were sleeping—'

You pull her into your lap.

'Say something.'

'When?'

'2 weeks, maybe? Remember that night after the bar?'

You remember. Of course you remember. A beautiful night.

'Are you...' Her voice small. 'Are you happy?'

You kiss her. Taste salt. Someone's crying. Maybe both of you.

'Ecstatic.' Your hand finds her stomach. Still flat. But now. But soon. 'Terrified.'

'Yeah?' She laughs through tears.

'Yeah.' You kiss her again. 'Best breakfast ever.'

'Even better than your tea?'

Instead of answering, you kiss her again.

What's tea anyway?

Fin

A/N: Goodness! They make a great couple. Hope you enjoyed!

[emmyrosee]

Rintaro loves to pretend he doesn’t care.

There’s a nonchalance that carries around your man, one that comes from years of training of gaslighting the twins and making them turn against each other, or the scoldings from Kita-San that could’ve got so intense with his disappointment Rintaro could cry.

He’s gotten good at keeping a stoic emotion and making you act out. He loves to pretend he doesn’t care.

“It’s because he doesn’t,” Atsumu assures, playing with the strings of his hoodie.

You roll your eyes, “trust me, he cares. You just don’t see it.”

“And I never will. Because it doesn’t happen.”

You raise your brows in challenge, and he matches your brow raising. “Wanna bet on it?”

“Wager?”

“If I can prove to you Rintaro actually is a dork for my attention, I want a signed Kiyoomi jersey.”

He scoffs, “can’t you just ask Kiyoomi for one?”

“Komori tells me not to bother him after games.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes, “okay. And when he doesn’t show he’s a loser, I want all you can eat at Onigiri Miya and you pick up the bill.”

“….”

“What?”

“Osamu doesn’t naturally give you all you can eat?”

“No?”

“Oh…”

“Does he GIVE IT TO YOU?!”

You give him a cheesy smile and quickly move to grab your keys, his jaw slacked in betrayal, only for him to roll his eyes, “whatever. Either way, we’re going when I win. What’re the keys for?”

“You’ll see.”

You jingle your keys with a small smirk, making sure to do it loud enough for him to hear down the hall. Atsumu shakes his head in disbelief, only for his hand to cover his mouth as socked feet quickly become louder as Rintaro barrels down the hall.

A lanky frame fills the doorway, “where you goi-“

Atsumu and you let out a string of cackles, his hand smacking his knee while Rintaro scrubs his face with his free hand, the other one holding a controller for his, hopefully, paused game.

“Dawg I hate you for real,” he sighs, coming into the room to kiss your head. You smile and angle your head to kiss him for real, which he complies with happily and making Atsumu gag. His green eyes dart to glare at Atsumu, “I wish osamu was an only child.”

“Damn, bringing guns to knife fights,” the blonde snorts. “Not my fault you got caught in 4K, dickhead.”

“Not my fault you’re a single loser.” He leans down to kiss your lips, “where’re we going?”

“No where,” you hum happily. “Just wanted to make sure you were still obsessed with me.”

He beams down at you while Atsumu groans in disgust.

“Always.”

RINRINRINRINRIN

[lambilegs]

I adore your best friend's older sister! Sevika headcanons, literally been rereading since last night 😫

I had a thought, a little crumb, a little ✨food for thought ✨, but what about Best friend's older sister! Sevika getting jealous. Maybe they aren't together yet and she spots reader getting a lil too cozy with another friend. Or maybe they are together and Sevika is not liking the way reader's coworker is gettin a lil too comfy 👀😤

I've truly thought about this too often lol, sorry for the rambles ♡

best friend's older sister!sevika getting jealous <3

note to anon: BAE DON'T APOLOGIZE THIS IDEA IS SOOOO <33 and omg thank you so so much!! I'm so happy you like it hehe. so, I decided to expand upon the first idea you gave because it's so so good, though I LOVE both. like, thank you so much for sending these thoughts AHHH <33

so, I totally agree with you that best friend's older sister!sevika would definitely be possessive. it's only worsened pre-confession because you're not hers yet, so she doesn't feel like she has much of a right to do anything about it. at least if you guys were together, she could wrap her arm around your waist or kiss your head, something silent to signify to others that you're hers.

but, as much as you two have teased and been pushing and pulling these past few months, that's all it's been. push, pull, push, pull. no confession, no asking out, no dates. and, listen, sevika doesn't mind the long game necessarily -- she knew from the get go that if she was gonna be pursuing you, it'd have to be serious. she wasn't about to get into some vague, unidentified shit with her sister's best friend. not only would her sister kill her for that, but it's not even what she's interested in in the first place. it's easy to talk to you, to trust you. it's easy to want something longterm with you. but, longterm means she needs to put in the work of trusting you. and for her, that takes a while. so, she doesn't mind the long game.

what she does mind, though, is that taking things slow means that in this whole getting-to-know-you phase, she doesn't know exactly where your head is at. if you want something serious, if you're ready for a relationship. she knows she should be asking you these questions, but as much as she hates to admit it, it makes her uncomfortable to think of being so honest about these feelings of hers. and what being honest could potentially lead to, like a pierce into your guys' relationship, whatever the hell it is.

but, goddammit, is it fucking hard to not grab you, drag you to her room and show you exactly how she feels when you're on the living room couch, canoodling up to one of the girls in yours and her sister's friend group. she knows how it is for you guys. no boundaries, endless amounts of teasing, flirting, nasty jokes. but, that doesn't make it any easier to see you nuzzling your head into one of their shoulders, the two of you swapping and laughing hysterically over suggestive comments about leaving the room to do some "private activities."

sevika grits her teeth from where she can hear the conversation, gripping the handle to the fridge hard. she sucks in a sharp breath, shakes her head, and grabs her bottle of water from the side shelf. shutting it close quietly, she makes her way to her bedroom, sock-clad feet heavy against the wood.

when she walks past your group, practically cuddled in the living room, she nods quietly at the group of you guys, feeling her shoulders tense up when you and her make eye contact. your head darts off your friend's shoulder, and she nearly snickers. you really aren't subtle when it comes to paying her attention. and today, she doesn't feel like returning it, her stomach clenched in anger over the unabashed flirting she just overheard.

she's in the middle of tinkering at her desk, tweaking some annoying shit that keeps making a scraping noise every few hours, when a knock comes to her room.

"yeah?" she mutters, trying not to throw the screwdriver right at the wall.

when you poke your head in, she glances at your momentarily before continuing her work. she hates how her stomach flips at your arrival, how she suddenly feels clumsy with the tools under your gaze.

"what?"

you start from where you lean on her doorframe. "I just, um, wanted to check if we're good?"

"just peachy," she huffs out, dragging her wrist past her brow, which is sticky with sweat. "why?"

"well, um..." you trail off, shifting on your feet. "you usually smile or say hi now, and right now, you didn't."

she feels a flash of irrational annoyance. she doesn't like the fact that you can read her so easily, as though you have her constantly under a microscope. she doesn't wanna have to deal with her jealousy, her feelings, but you cornering and confronting her like this doesn't make that easy.

"I'm fine."

she blinks hard at the gears when her bedroom door softly clicks shut.

"no, you're not. sevika, come on, what's wrong?" you trot over to her desk, standing right next to her, shoving your presence into her space. "tell me."

she sighs, her body stiff with embarrassment and irritation at your stubbornness. god, things would be so much easier if you weren't so damn feisty, always snapping back at her. but, at the same time, though she'd never tell you, she can't help but like your persistence.

"do you have to be so damn flirty with all your friends?" she bites, immediately regretting the words as soon as they shoot out. so much for subtlety.

your head jerks back. "that's why you're upset? sevika, I've always flirted with them, you know that. I'm sure you've seen your fair share of it for years now."

"yeah, well, now, it's different." she keeps her eyes locked onto the desk, and when she realizes just how thinly veiled the implication of her words are, she rushes to add, "now, I think it's risky shit. you know, someone could get the wrong idea."

you scoff. "it's been like this for years. no one will get the wrong idea."

she rolls her eyes, grumbling incoherent words. she knows you're right. she's made her own fair share of jokes like that with her buddies, even the ones she wouldn't be caught dead with in any lifetime. and you're right, your little gang has always been like this. but, none of that helps to dampen the burning irritation that grows in her stomach when she sees you being so touchy with someone who isn't her. with someone who may think they have a chance with you, no matter how slim. she doesn't want you to have options, she wants to be the only one you see in that way.

"and I don't want you to get the wrong idea, either."

she freezes at the words, her hand stilling.

you inch in closer and your warm palm rests on her shoulder. she feels something stir inside her at the touch, wishing you'd slide the rest of your hand down her arm. you guys have touched briefly, sure, but it's usually fleeting, teasing. this, though? this is tender, and -- it's intimate. you're trying to reassure her, she can tell. she knows it's a nice thing to do, but a part of her cringes at the fact that her feelings were so badly concealed that you even needed to comfort her at all. she should be better than this.

"I don't see anyone in my group like that, okay?" you pause, and the silence between you two thickens. right before it becomes suffocating to the point of sevika forcing herself to respond, you add, your voice quiet and shaky, "trust me, it's not my friends whose attention I want like that. just one other person... who's close by."

her nostrils flare, her breaths feeling tighter than before. are you saying what she thinks you are?

"okay," she manages to get out.

"okay." your hand slips from her shoulder, and she feels the cold of your absence as you turn to leave. without thinking, her hand flies up, catching yours.

your head whips to her in surprise, eyes wide and curious.

she thumbs at your pulse point, some of her confidence regaining through feeling how it spikes. but, still, there's an undercurrent of discomfort, so she tries to steady her voice before saying, "you know, I have a pretty good shoulder too."

you laugh, ducking your head down. sevika tries not to pull you in closer, coax you to look at her when she talks. "yes, I'm sure you do," you respond, a sarcastic lilt to your voice.

"well, obviously. you're always checking me out when I work out."

you splutter, eyebrows scrunched indignantly. "well, that's because you insist on working out in front of us always! for all I know, maybe you're the one who's into someone in our group."

your voice is mocking, but sevika hears the tremors of it towards the end. are you nervous that she maybe is into someone else but you? or are you hopeful it's you?

you gave her a bit of assurance, so she might as well return the favour.

"maybe there is someone I'm trying to impress. someone who'd maybe notice that more if they weren't always shoving their face in other people's chests."

she can see how your eyes bulge at the semi-confession, your palm slick with sweat in her hand. your mouth flaps open for a few seconds, before shakily saying, "well, you did offer yourself up as a substitute."

her cheeks ache with how hard she's trying not to grin too widely. "don't get too excited."

you wring your hand from her grip, smiling coyly as you reach for her doorknob. "I'll try to contain myself."

[faebled-stories]

Symphony of Release

Kinkvember Day 27: Sex Dungeon

NingNing (Ning Yizhuo) Giselle (Uchinaga Aeri) Aespa X Male reader

25.1k words

AN: I know I keep saying, "This fic is my longest yet," but this time, I really mean it😅. This one is officially my longest, and my brain feels like total mush after putting it all together. There’s no way I’m writing this much in one day again. I know this is later than my normal post time but I hope you guys understand💖

It was nearing midnight when Minjeong stumbled through the front door of the apartment. The soft click of the lock echoed through the quiet room, startling Karina from where she sat curled on the couch. A tub of ice cream balanced precariously on her knees, its smooth surface beginning to melt around the edges. Giselle, cross-legged on the floor amid a sea of folded laundry, glanced up sharply, her hands pausing mid-motion as she folded a pair of socks. Across the room, Ningning stirred from the cocoon of her blanket on the recliner, her hand hovering over the remote as she paused the neon-lit drama flashing across the TV. One by one, their gazes shifted to Minjeong.

Minjeong froze, her silhouette framed by the faint glow of the hallway light. Her hair was a mess, clinging in damp strands to her flushed forehead, and her cheeks burned with the deep pink of exertion—or something else entirely. She had clearly tried to pull herself together: her oversized sweater was hastily tugged on, the hem uneven and bunched at her side, while her face shone with the telltale dampness of a rushed wash. And yet, beneath the soap-and-water effort, an unmistakable, musky undertone lingered in the air, faint but inescapable. It clung to her skin like a whisper of the night she was trying to forget—or avoid acknowledging.

Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the strap of her bag, frozen like a deer caught in headlights under their collective stares.

“Um… hey,” she croaked, her voice cracking awkwardly. “I didn’t think you’d all still be… awake.”

Karina arched an eyebrow, her lips curling around the spoon in her hand with theatrical slowness. She withdrew it with a soft click, letting the ice cream linger on her tongue before speaking. “That’s all you’ve got? You look like you got caught in a windstorm… and something else.” She sniffed the air, her expression twisting with amused disbelief. “Oh my God. Are you serious right now?”

Minjeong’s face turned scarlet, her eyes darting anywhere but at her roommates. The silence grew louder, the ticking of the wall clock amplifying her discomfort. She took a small step toward her bedroom, her sneakers squeaking faintly against the polished floorboards.

“I’m just… really tired. Long night,” she mumbled, clutching her bag like a shield.

“Uh-uh. No way,” Giselle interjected, rising to her feet in a single, fluid motion. She crossed her arms, her stance firm and unyielding as she fixed Minjeong with a sharp look. “We’re not letting this one slide. What’s going on with you lately? You’ve been sneaking out every other night, coming home late, and looking like… this.”

“Like what?” Minjeong snapped, her voice a touch too defensive to sell the indifference she was aiming for.

“Like someone who’s been thoroughly…” Ningning hesitated, her cheeks blooming pink as she struggled to find the words. “…Thoroughly.”

Karina exploded into laughter, doubling over as she nearly sent the tub of ice cream tumbling onto the floor. “Oh my God, Ning. Just say it! She looks like someone who got wrecked.”

“Stop!” Minjeong practically squeaked, her panic sharpening the edges of her voice. “It’s not—it’s not what you think.”

Karina leaned forward, her grin widening like a cat that had cornered its prey. “Oh, it’s exactly what I think. So, who is it? Secret boyfriend? Hookup? Don’t be shy. Spill!”

“It’s no one!” Minjeong blurted, clutching her bag tighter as if it could somehow ward off the interrogation. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Then where are you going?” Giselle asked, her skepticism practically vibrating in the air. “Because whatever you’re doing, you smell like…” She wrinkled her nose dramatically. “…like you’ve been doing something.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Minjeong muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as she edged closer to her bedroom door. “It’s just… personal.”

Karina tilted her head, her playful grin taking on an edge of genuine curiosity. “Personal? Okay, now I really want to know. You can’t just say that and expect us to drop it.”

Ningning shifted under her blanket, her eyes darting between her friends. “I mean… we’re all thinking about it, right? Where she’d been going, coming back like this?”

Minjeong groaned, the sound low and drawn out, her head dropping slightly as if surrendering to an invisible weight. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” they chorused, their voices a mix of teasing and determination.

She sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping under the weight of the inevitable. “Fine,” she muttered, her tone a mix of exasperation and resignation. “There’s this… place I’ve been going to.”

Karina leaned forward, her curiosity evident as she tilted her head. “What kind of place?”

Minjeong hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she finally replied. “It’s hard to explain. It doesn’t really have a name. It’s just… a space where people can explore things.”

“What kind of ‘things’?” Giselle asked, narrowing her eyes as suspicion flickered in her expression.

Minjeong’s cheeks flamed, her voice rushing out before she could stop herself. “Intimacy. It’s private. Safe. They have different rooms where you can try things, or watch, or… whatever.”

The room fell into stunned silence, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. Only the faint hum of the paused TV broke the stillness.

“So… like a sex club?” Ningning finally asked, her tone carrying equal parts shock and intrigue.

“It’s not a club,” Minjeong snapped, defensive as her eyes darted between them. “It’s professional. It’s about curiosity and connection. It’s not some sketchy hookup scene.”

Karina raised an eyebrow, her tone thoughtful rather than critical. “How do you even know about this place?”

Minjeong sighed, brushing her damp bangs back from her forehead. “Yunjin told me about it. It’s run by the same people who own that other place—you know, the one with the glory hole.”

Ningning’s jaw dropped, her eyes wide as she stared at Minjeong. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you serious? That place Yunjin described? With the creepy wooden wall and the literal hole?”

“It’s not creepy!” Minjeong snapped, rolling her eyes. “It’s supposed to be like that—it’s the vibe. They keep it simple because it adds to the ambience or whatever.”

Karina nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Like, the mystery of it, right? That kind of makes sense.”

“Exactly,” Minjeong said, relieved at Karina’s understanding. “But this place is nothing like that. It’s completely different. It’s modern, sleek, and everything is super private and professional. It’s all about creating a safe space for people to explore.”

Giselle tilted her head, her skepticism softening slightly. “So, it’s more like… a curated experience?”

Minjeong nodded. “Yes, exactly. It’s not shady or anything. It’s designed for people who are curious and want to try new things in a safe way.”

Karina grinned, leaning back on the couch. “Honestly, that sounds kind of amazing. I can see why you’ve been sneaking out.”

“Thank you,” Minjeong muttered, her tone softening as she shot Karina a small look of gratitude. “At least someone gets it.”

Ningning still looked flustered, her face partially hidden in her hands. “I just… I can’t believe this is a thing. Like, you’re just casually going to places like this?”

Minjeong crossed her arms, her voice sharp with exasperation. “Yes, because it’s not some back-alley setup, okay? It’s intentional, it’s safe, and it’s… honestly kind of amazing.”

Karina smirked, giving Ningning a pointed look. “You’re acting like you don’t swipe right on every guy with a dog in his profile. At least Minjeong knows what she’s walking into.”

“Hey!” Ningning shot back, her face red as Karina and Giselle burst into laughter.

Minjeong sighed dramatically, heading toward her room. “I’m going to shower. Can we talk about literally anything else when I get back?”

Karina leaned back, her grin undiminished. “We’ll see. You know we’re going to have more questions.”

Minjeong didn’t reply, disappearing into her room and shutting the door firmly behind her. The faint sound of the shower starting echoed through the apartment, the steady stream of water the only noise in the tense stillness left behind.

The three left in the living room exchanged glances.

“I cannot believe this,” Ningning muttered, pulling her blanket tighter around herself as if warding off the thought. “She’s seriously sneaking off to places like that?”

“I don’t know,” Giselle said, her frown deepening. “It still sounds kind of sketchy. Who even runs something like that?”

“I can think of a few reasons,” Karina quipped, her mischievous grin practically glowing. “Honestly, it sounds incredible. I bet she’s having the time of her life.”

“She looks like she’s been dragged through a hedge backwards,” Ningning countered, shaking her head. “That doesn’t exactly scream ‘fun’ to me.”

Karina shrugged, unbothered. “Maybe she’s just… exploring. Who knows? I, for one, think it sounds hot.”

When Minjeong finally emerged from her room, her hair damp and clinging to her cheeks in soft strands, she was dressed in a loose hoodie and sweatpants, her posture stiff with hesitation. She stopped short when she saw them still sitting there, their expressions practically crackling with anticipation. Their eyes glittered, waiting for her to speak as if the show was about to start.

“No,” she said immediately, raising a hand in protest. “I told you, I’m done talking about it.”

“Come on,” Karina said, leaning forward with an easy grin. “You can’t just drop something like that and leave us hanging. We need to know more.”

“Yeah,” Ningning added, though her tone was more cautious. “What do you even do there?”

Minjeong hesitated, her gaze falling to the floor as heat rushed to her face. Her hands balled into small fists at her sides, her discomfort obvious. “It’s… complicated,” she said softly, avoiding their eyes.

“Then explain it,” Karina said, her tone gentle but persistent.

Minjeong sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping in defeat. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the doorframe and spoke slowly. “A while ago, I read this… book. It had a scene where the character…” She trailed off, her face turning bright red as her voice dropped to a near-whisper. “...she, um, she… squirted” she pressed her lips together, wishing the floor would swallow her whole. 

The room went silent, her words hanging in the air like a challenge. Ningning’s mouth dropped open, her disbelief written all over her face. Giselle blinked, momentarily stunned. Karina, however, looked delighted, her grin spreading wider.

“Wait,” Karina said, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in her eye. “You’ve been sneaking off to this place because you read a book about someone squirting, and you wanted to see if it was real?”

Minjeong’s face was practically glowing, and she stared hard at the floor, as if it might offer her salvation. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” she admitted reluctantly. “It just… wouldn’t leave my mind. And then the conversation got brought up, and Yunjin told me about that place. She said it’s run by the same people as that other one she mentioned, but this one is more…” She hesitated, searching for the right word. “Broad. Structured.”

“Oh, come on,” Ningning said, her skepticism practically radiating off her. “There’s no way people actually do that. It’s so fake.”

Karina rolled her eyes. “It’s not a conspiracy, Ning. I’m sure it can totally happen.”

“But how?” Giselle chimed in, narrowing her eyes as if trying to unravel a mystery. “It’s not like that’s a normal thing, right? Isn’t it just exaggerated in movies and… books?”

“It’s not exaggerated,” Minjeong said quietly, though her voice lacked its usual firmness. “It’s just… uncommon.”

“That’s an understatement,” Ningning muttered, shaking her head. “I still don’t buy it.”

Karina threw up her hands in exasperation. “You guys are such skeptics! Just because you haven’t experienced it doesn’t mean it’s fake.”

Minjeong groaned, burying her face in her hands. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to talk about it.”

The room divided like a fault line, Karina on one side, practically bouncing with excitement, and Ningning and Giselle on the other, their skeptical expressions nearly identical. The debate escalated as they volleyed arguments back and forth, the room buzzing with contrasting opinions.

“It’s science!” Karina insisted, gesturing animatedly. “Do you even hear yourselves? Of course, it’s real. Minjeong literally just said it happened.”

“Science or not, it sounds… extreme,” Ningning said doubtfully, pulling her blanket tighter. “Like something you’d read about in a clickbait article.”

“Or fanfiction,” Giselle added under her breath, earning a sharp glare from Karina.

“All I’m saying is, it’s not impossible,” Karina said firmly, throwing an arm around Minjeong’s shoulders for support. “And honestly? I think it’s pretty amazing that she had the guts to find out.”

Minjeong groaned again, shrinking lower. “Can we please stop talking about this?”

“Not a chance,” Karina said, her grin unwavering. “This is the best thing I’ve heard all year.”

Karina leaned back with a sly smirk, her gaze flicking toward Minjeong. She leaned in ever so slightly, lowering her voice so the others couldn’t hear. Minjeong stiffened, her wide eyes darting to Karina as a faint blush crept up her cheeks. Karina’s playful, conspiratorial expression was enough to make Minjeong’s lips part in hesitant confusion.

Karina whispered something quietly, and Minjeong blinked, her expression shifting between embarrassment and reluctant amusement. She gave a tiny shake of her head, her lips pressing together as if to suppress a smile.

Karina sat back, triumphant, and clapped her hands together with deliberate force, snapping the others’ attention to her. “Okay,” she announced brightly, cutting through the tension. “You clearly don’t believe it, so here’s my suggestion.”

Giselle and Ningning turned to her warily, their skepticism etched in their faces. “What suggestion?” Giselle asked, her voice cautious.

Karina’s grin widened. “Why don’t you two go and find out for yourselves?”

Ningning blinked, her jaw dropping. “You’re joking.”

“I’m completely serious,” Karina said smoothly. “You keep saying it’s ridiculous, so why not settle it? Go. See what it’s actually like.”

“That’s insane,” Ningning said, her face turning red. “Why would we do that?”

“To prove a point,” Karina replied, shrugging. “Unless you’re scared.”

Ningning sputtered, clutching her blanket. “I’m not scared! I just— It’s ridiculous.”

Minjeong sighed, cutting through the argument with a calm voice. “It’s not about proving anything. The point is that it’s a safe space to explore. You don’t have to do anything. You can just… see. If it’s not for you, you leave. That’s it.”

Giselle narrowed her eyes. “So we just walk in and… magically get it?”

Minjeong shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe not. It’s not for everyone. But it’s not what you’re imagining either. It’s safer. Better.”

Ningning groaned, sinking deeper into her recliner. “This is ridiculous.”

Karina chuckled, her grin smug. “Just think about it. No pressure.”

The conversation fizzled into uneasy silence as Giselle and Ningning exchanged glances. Minjeong, feeling the weight of the room, mumbled, “I’m going to bed,” and disappeared into her room.

A while later, after Giselle and Ningning had retreated, Karina lingered before slipping into Minjeong’s room. Minjeong looked up from her bed, startled but not annoyed.

Karina grinned, leaning against the doorframe. “So? Did you actually… you know…”

Minjeong hesitated, her lips trembling before she gave the smallest, shyest nod.

Karina’s gasp was loud enough to echo off the walls. “No way! That’s insane. Was it—?”

“It was…” Minjeong trailed off, her voice barely audible. “It was intense.”

Karina clapped her hands together, looking like Christmas had come early. “You have to take me next time.”

Minjeong laughed, still red-faced, and nudged Karina toward the door. “Goodnight, Karina.”

As Karina left with a satisfied grin, Minjeong allowed herself to sink into her pillows, a small, reluctant smile tugging at her lips.

-----

In the days that followed, the weight of that night’s conversation lingered in the apartment, an unspoken tension threading through their interactions. Minjeong remained quiet about the topic, going about her routines as usual, but every now and then, Ningning and Giselle would exchange glances, the question hanging in the air between them: Are we actually going to do this?

One evening, as all of them sat in the living room, the TV playing a show none of them were paying attention to, Ningning finally broke the silence.

“So…” she began, her voice hesitant but pointed. “About what unnie said the other night.”

Karina, sprawled out on the couch with her legs draped over the armrest, smirked. “Took you long enough.”

Giselle glanced up from her phone, raising an eyebrow. “I’m still not convinced,” she said, though her tone was less dismissive than it had been. “It just sounds… I don’t know, extreme.”

“Extreme?” Karina scoffed, sitting up and swinging her legs onto the floor. “Come on. It’s not like anyone’s forcing you to jump in headfirst. You could just… see it. Dip a toe in. Or don’t.”

Ningning fidgeted with the edge of her blanket. “Minjeong made it sound pretty safe,” she said, almost to herself. “And it’s not like we have to do anything, right? Just… check it out.”

Giselle narrowed her eyes. “You’re seriously considering this?”

“Well…” Ningning hesitated, her cheeks flushing. “Aren’t you? You’ve been quiet about it all week.”

Giselle huffed, crossing her arms. “I just don’t want to end up in some weird situation. What if it’s not what we’re expecting?”

“It’s not,” Minjeong’s voice cut through the room softly. She had been lingering in the doorway, unnoticed until now. Her expression was calm but serious, her eyes darting between them. “It’s nothing like what you’re imagining. I promise.”

Karina gestured toward Minjeong with a flourish. “See? She promises. And if it’s as safe as she says, what’s the harm in a little adventure?”

“I don’t know…” Giselle trailed off, her skepticism giving way to contemplation.

“You can leave anytime,” Minjeong said, stepping farther into the room. “If you feel uncomfortable, you just walk out. No one will stop you. No one will even ask why.”

“And we don’t have to… you know…” Ningning’s voice dropped as she gestured vaguely, her face burning red.

Minjeong shook her head. “Not unless you want to. You’re in control the whole time. And it’s not some creepy scene or anything. It’s professional. Respectful. Everyone’s there for their own reasons, and no one judges anyone else.”

Karina’s grin widened as she leaned back, crossing her arms. “Sounds like a glowing endorsement to me.”

Ningning chewed on her lip, her blanket now bunched in her lap. “It’s just… such a weird thing to do.”

“Exactly,” Giselle said, though her words lacked their usual edge. “It’s weird.”

“Weird doesn’t mean bad,” Minjeong said gently. “Sometimes it just means… different. And different can be good. You might surprise yourselves.”

The room fell silent, the faint hum of the TV filling the space as they considered her words. Ningning and Giselle exchanged a look, a flicker of unspoken understanding passing between them.

“Well,” Karina said, breaking the quiet, “I think you two should do it. Who knows? It might even be fun.”

“You’re not helping,” Giselle muttered, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

Minjeong hesitated, then gave a small, reassuring smile. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. But if you’re even a little curious… it’s worth a try. Just to see.”

Ningning let out a long breath, pulling the blanket tighter. “I’ll think about it.”

Giselle nodded slowly. “Me too. But I’m not making any promises.”

“Fair enough,” Minjeong said, retreating back to her room with a faint smile.

Karina watched her go, then turned back to the others with a twinkle in her eye. “You’re totally doing it.”

“Shut up,” Ningning and Giselle said in unison, but their cheeks were pink, and neither of them outright denied it.

The idea hovered between them, tantalizing and unresolved, as they returned to their show, though none of them were paying much attention to it now.

-----

Eventually their curiosity got the better of them and they agreed to go. By the time they arrived at the place, nerves had transformed into a strange cocktail of anticipation and curiosity. The building was surprisingly polished—a tall, elegant brick structure with clean lines and minimalist signage that simply read “Welcome.” Its shaded, frosted windows gave an air of privacy without secrecy, inviting rather than intimidating. It felt like a space designed to intrigue and comfort rather than overwhelm.

Inside, the lobby was nothing like the dungeon-like image Ningning and Giselle had tentatively imagined. Instead, it resembled a boutique spa. Soft ambient music hummed faintly through hidden speakers, blending seamlessly with the subtle aroma of lavender and sandalwood. The lighting was warm and diffused, casting golden hues over sleek, modern furniture and tasteful artwork that adorned the walls.

Then they met you.

You stepped forward with a calm, professional demeanor, offering a gentle smile that immediately softened their stiff postures. “Welcome,” you said, your voice smooth and soothing, perfectly complementing the tranquil ambiance. “I’m here to answer any questions you have and to make sure you feel comfortable throughout. This experience is entirely at your pace.”

Your words rippled through them, easing the tension that had coiled in their shoulders during the car ride over. They nodded in acknowledgment, their breaths steadying as they followed you deeper into the space. The hallway, lined with soft, abstract art in muted tones, felt like a threshold—not just physically but emotionally. Each step seemed to take them closer to something they couldn’t yet name, a blend of the unfamiliar and the curious.

You led them into a softly lit room where the golden light spilled like honey across the walls, painted in warm, neutral tones. The scent of polished wood mingled with faint notes of cedar, grounding the space. It felt intimate but not confining, like a carefully crafted haven. In the center of the room sat a neatly arranged set of tools and equipment, minimal and unobtrusive, designed to invite exploration rather than demand it.

Pausing, you turned back to face them, ensuring they were present and focused. “Before we go any further,” you began, your voice steady and inviting, “let’s talk about safe words.”

Ningning and Giselle both stiffened slightly, their expressions flickering with nervousness. You noticed the hesitation in their eyes and offered an encouraging smile, your demeanor gentle yet confident.

“This is about giving you total control of the experience,” you explained. “We use safe words as a way to stop or ease up if you feel uncomfortable. If you say ‘yellow,’ we’ll slow down; if you say ‘red,’ everything stops immediately. Think of it like a pause button.”

Giselle furrowed her brow, absorbing the information. “So, ‘yellow’ if we want to take a break, and ‘red’ if we want to stop completely?” she asked, her voice soft but steady.

“Exactly,” you said, meeting her gaze with calm confidence. “This is entirely your experience. At any point, you can say one word, and it stops—no questions asked.”

A visible wave of relief washed over Ningning as her shoulders dropped. She let out a small sigh, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Actually… that makes me feel a lot better. Just knowing that,” she admitted, glancing at Giselle.

Giselle gave her a faint nod in return, her posture relaxing slightly, though a trace of skepticism lingered in her eyes.

“Good,” you said, your tone soft with reassurance. “If you’re ready, we can begin.”

They exchanged a glance—a quick, silent moment of mutual reassurance—before turning back to you. Their nods were tentative but genuine, a signal of cautious readiness.

“I’ve prepared a regiment for the two of you,” you said, your voice steady and measured, watching their reactions carefully. “It’s designed to ease you into the experience, gradually introducing different sensations and emotions. However, this is flexible. I’ll be making adjustments based on your responses. This is about what feels right for you, so I’ll omit or add activities as we go.”

“Everything is planned out for us?” Ningning asked, her eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Not exactly,” you clarified with a soft smile. “I designed it with a structured flow in mind, but it’s not set in stone. Think of it as a guide, not a rulebook. We’ll adapt as needed. I’ll guide you step by step. However, there’s one recommendation: it’s best if you approach this blind.”

“Blind? Like, blindfolded?” Ningning asked, her brows knitting together in confusion.

“Not necessarily,” you explained, your tone gentle but firm. “While blindfolding is an option, what I mean is that you won’t know what’s coming next. When you let go of anticipation, it sharpens your senses and helps you focus on the moment. It lets you experience each activity more fully without preconceived notions.”

Ningning’s lips parted slightly, her expression contemplative. “So, we’d just… let it happen?”

“Exactly,” you replied, your gaze steady. “It’s about letting go of control in a safe environment. You’ll focus entirely on how you feel in the moment rather than trying to predict what’s next.”

Giselle crossed her arms, her skepticism evident. “I don’t know… that sounds a little intense.”

“It is,” Ningning said with a soft laugh, glancing at her friend. “But maybe that’s the point? I mean, if we’re doing this, we might as well do it the right way.”

Giselle hesitated, her gaze flicking between you and Ningning before exhaling heavily. “And we can stop anytime, right?”

“Absolutely,” you assured her, your voice calm and reassuring.

Ningning and Giselle exchanged a quick glance, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, Ningning gave a tentative nod, her lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “I think we should try.”

Giselle rolled her eyes softly, but the corners of her mouth betrayed a small, curious smile. “Fine. But if this gets weird, I’m out.”

“Fair enough,” you said with a warm smile, gesturing toward the center of the room, where everything had been carefully prepared for their arrival.

With practiced ease, you guided them into the softly lit room, the golden glow casting a warm, intimate light across the space. The earlier atmosphere of calm reassurance shifted as you closed the door behind them with a soft click. When you turned back, your entire demeanor had transformed—your expression now steady and commanding, your movements precise and deliberate. The quiet authority you carried filled the room, grounding them in the gravity of what was to come.

“Strip,” you instructed, your tone calm but unyielding, leaving no room for hesitation. “Everything but your panties.”

They froze for a moment, the weight of the command sinking in. Their gazes flicked to you, a sudden jolt of arousal coursing through them as they took in this new, commanding side of you. It was unexpected—this transformation in your demeanor—and it sent a shiver of anticipation down their spines.

Exchanging a brief glance, they seemed to silently agree on their next steps. Ningning’s fingers trembled slightly as she grasped the hem of her shirt, carefully sliding it off her shoulders. Her bra followed, the clasp unhooking with slow, deliberate movements as she revealed her flushed skin. Giselle followed suit, unbuttoning her blouse with steady hands before stepping out of her jeans in a single, fluid motion. Both of their breathing grew shallow, the cool air brushing against their heated skin.

They folded their garments neatly, setting them aside in a small pile, the rustling of fabric the only sound punctuating the charged silence of the room. Their movements were measured, deliberate, as though they were hyper-aware of your presence. Left in only their panties, the vulnerability of the moment wrapped around them like a second skin.

You observed them closely, your steady gaze unwavering, assessing their compliance with quiet intensity. A faint nod of approval softened the edges of your commanding presence. “Good,” you said simply, your tone neutral but firm. “Now, hands forward.”

Their hands rose instinctively, the slight tremor in Ningning’s fingers betraying her nerves. You stepped forward with measured precision, your every motion exuding calm confidence. Picking up a coil of soft, supple rope from the nearby table, you moved toward Ningning first.

You took her wrists gently in your hands, the warmth of your fingers steadying her as you began to work. Your movements were fluid and practiced, each loop of the rope snug but never tight. The fabric pressed softly against her skin, securing her without discomfort. The quiet rustling of the rope as it glided through your hands filled the space, mingling with the faint rhythm of her breathing.

Once finished, you turned to Giselle. She extended her hands wordlessly, her gaze flicking briefly to Ningning before returning to you. You repeated the process, wrapping the rope around her wrists with the same precision, the material gliding smoothly as you worked. Her posture remained composed, though the faintest flush of color crept up her neck as the knots settled into place.

Their hands now rested just above their heads, supported by the ropes. Their feet stayed grounded, but the gentle tension in their arms introduced a faint stretch that felt unfamiliar yet oddly empowering. They exchanged a quick glance, their shared curiosity reflected in the subtle flicker of their expressions.

The sensation of the ropes—their softness, their firm yet yielding hold—seemed to heighten everything around them. The golden light wrapped the room in warmth, while the rhythmic creak of the ropes created a cocoon of quiet intimacy. What had once been a heavy sense of anticipation now felt lighter, suspended in a moment of carefully crafted care.

“Good girls,” you said softly, your voice carrying a subtle warmth beneath its grounded authority. Moving deliberately, you adjusted the ropes, your presence steady and unwavering. The care in your actions was unmistakable, but so was the quiet dominance that now defined your movements. You exuded control—not forceful, but unshakable—creating a dynamic that made them feel held and guided.

With a faint smile, you stepped back to let them adjust to the position. “Let’s start with something simple,” you said, your voice low but firm, with just enough softness to ease their remaining nerves. You turned toward a nearby table, retrieving a soft flogger, its supple material catching the golden light as you lifted it.

The rhythmic sound of your footsteps across the floor filled the space, a quiet punctuation to the moment. Ningning took a deep breath, her senses finely tuned to the subtle movements around her. Her gaze followed you with a mix of curiosity and anticipation, while Giselle briefly closed her eyes, grounding herself in the present and letting her focus shift to her body’s awareness.

“Ready?” you asked, your voice steady and unyielding, carrying no pressure but a quiet expectation.

They nodded, their breathing steadier now, though their bodies remained taut with anticipation. You stepped closer to Ningning first, letting the soft flogger trail lightly over her bare shoulder. The faint whisper of its strands brushing against her skin sent a shiver coursing down her spine, heightening her awareness of every inch of her body. Her chest rose and fell with measured breaths, her senses narrowing to the point of contact.

Then came the first light tap. The strands of the flogger landed on her upper back with a delicate precision, the sting blooming across her skin in a wave of warmth. Ningning inhaled sharply, the unexpected sensation startling her at first, her lips parting as her eyes widened. The sting faded quickly, leaving behind a faint, tingling heat that lingered, coaxing her body into a heightened state of sensitivity.

As the rhythm of the strokes continued, deliberate and evenly spaced, her initial tension began to dissolve. Each strike brought a sharper awareness, a paradoxical mixture of control and surrender that her mind couldn’t quite process but her body responded to instinctively. The faint pull of the ropes binding her wrists heightened the sensation, keeping her grounded as her thoughts gave way to raw feeling. Her breathing deepened, the warmth in her skin now merging with an unfamiliar but undeniable arousal. The sting that had surprised her at first now contributed to a growing ache of need, as though her body was awakening to a language it had never spoken before.

Gradually, the intensity increased. The strokes came harder, the flogger landing with more force, pushing her just a little further with each hit. Ningning’s moans deepened, her body reacting to the pain in ways that surprised even her. The sting turned into a fiery pulse, dancing across her skin in a way that threatened to overwhelm her but never quite crossed the line. Her head tilted back, her lips parting to release a soft whimper that mixed pain and pleasure into a single, intoxicating sound. The ache lingered longer now, the heat radiating from her back blending with the throbbing arousal pooling low in her body.

You moved with deliberate care, watching for any flicker of discomfort in her expression. But Ningning’s soft exhales, the subtle arch of her back, and the way her hips shifted told you she was riding the edge of the sensation, her body adapting as she yielded to the rhythm of the flogger.

Satisfied, you turned to Giselle, allowing the flogger’s supple strands to brush teasingly across her skin. The faint touch made her flinch slightly, a gasp escaping her lips as her body stiffened reflexively. You delivered the first light stroke to her back, the flogger landing with a muted crack. The sting rippled through her, sharp and immediate, forcing her breath to hitch. For a moment, her body froze, her mind processing the unfamiliar sensation.

But as the heat spread, the sharpness softened into something richer, more profound—a warmth that coursed through her muscles and heightened her awareness of her own body. Her breaths began to slow, her posture shifting as she allowed herself to accept the rhythm. Each subsequent stroke seemed to draw her deeper into the moment, her mind quieting as the sensation became less foreign and more intoxicating. The feeling of being bound, her wrists held securely above her head, amplified her surrender. The ropes didn’t restrain her—they anchored her, giving her the freedom to let go.

The strokes on Giselle intensified gradually as well, the flogger landing with increasing force. Her body jerked with each hit, the sharp sting leaving behind a trail of tingling heat that both burned and soothed. The line between too much and just enough blurred, her body trembling as the sensations layered atop each other. A flush crept up her neck, her chest heaving as she adjusted to the rhythm. Each strike sent a pulse of arousal coursing through her, the pain tipping into pleasure with a sweet inevitability.

The pain built steadily, each strike pushing them closer to their limits without crossing the threshold. It hovered at the brink, testing their endurance while drawing out their arousal. Ningning’s soft moans became more urgent, her body shivering as she leaned into the rhythm, her mind overwhelmed but unwilling to stop. Giselle’s breathing hitched with every strike, her head falling forward as she let out a series of trembling gasps, her body fighting the tension that teetered on the edge of overwhelming.

When you finally stepped back, both women were trembling. Their flushed skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, and their breathing synced in shallow, uneven gasps. The throbbing ache in their backs mirrored the pulsing arousal coursing through their bodies. Their eyes met, wide and glassy, the pain and pleasure written in their expressions—a silent acknowledgment that this was unlike anything they had imagined. It was raw, immersive, and undeniably arousing.

“You’re doing well,” you said softly, your tone carrying a note of approval that resonated in the quiet space. Their gazes shifted back to you, their expressions now open, filled with curiosity and something deeper, more vulnerable.

You paused, giving them time to absorb the sensations fully before speaking again. “Alright,” you said, your voice calm and measured, “I’m going to add another element.”

Ningning and Giselle both nodded, their interest fully captured now. Their cheeks were still flushed from the sensations they’d already experienced, their breaths shallow as they prepared for what was next. The soft sound of the ropes faintly creaking above them served as a quiet reminder of their bound state, amplifying their awareness of every movement.

From your collection, you retrieved a pair of intricately designed clamps, their polished metal gleaming in the light. They were delicate but purposeful, adjustable to provide just enough pressure to transform ordinary touch into something extraordinary. You held the clamps with quiet authority, their intricate design a contrast to the intensity they promised.

Starting with Ningning, you reached forward, your fingers grazing the curve of her breast with deliberate slowness. Her breath hitched as your touch lingered, her skin hypersensitive under your hand. With practiced ease, you secured the first clamp to her nipple. The initial sensation was sharp, a sudden sting that drew a gasp from her parted lips. “Ahh…” Her back arched slightly, the pull of the rope above her making the reaction even more pronounced.

The sting lingered, a constant ache that quickly shifted into a hum of sensation, heightening her awareness of her body. A soft moan escaped her as you secured the second clamp, the dual points of pressure creating a symphony of sensations. The ache was persistent, demanding her focus, but the way it blended with the warmth of arousal in her core made her chest rise and fall with quickened breaths. Beneath her, the heat of her excitement began to bloom, the dampness at the apex of her thighs growing as her body responded.

You turned to Giselle, your hands just as steady and deliberate. Her eyes fluttered closed as your fingers ghosted over her skin, teasing her sensitive flesh before carefully placing the first clamp. “Mmm…” she moaned softly, her body stiffening momentarily at the sting as the metal gripped her. A low, trembling exhale followed as the sensation settled, morphing from sharpness into a dull, throbbing ache that sent warmth radiating outward. The second clamp followed with equal care, eliciting a soft, shaky moan from her lips. “Oh…” Giselle’s breathing deepened, her chest rising as she adjusted to the rhythmic pulse of sensation.

Bound above, their hands unable to lower, both Ningning and Giselle were acutely aware of every shift and movement. The clamps weren’t merely a source of sensation; they were a constant presence, a persistent reminder of their vulnerability. And yet, that vulnerability seemed to amplify their arousal, each breath bringing them closer to surrendering fully to the moment.

you retrieved two floggers, their supple strands swaying lightly as you held them in each hand. The leather glinted faintly in the light, promising a mix of sensation that would push them further. Their eyes flickered to the tools, their bodies tensing in anticipation as you stepped closer.

You began with Ningning and Giselle simultaneously, the strands of the floggers trailing across their skin in teasing strokes. The featherlight contact danced along their shoulders, arms, and backs, coaxing shivers that made their breath hitch. The anticipation of the impact alone sent a thrill through them, their muscles tightening instinctively.

The first strikes landed, one on each of them, perfectly timed. The strands of the floggers kissed their skin with a satisfying crack, sending ripples of sensation through their bodies. Ningning gasped sharply, her hips jerking slightly against the tension of the ropes. Giselle let out a soft cry, her body stiffening momentarily before yielding to the sting. The impact wasn’t overwhelming—just enough to awaken their senses and pull them into the moment.

You continued, your movements measured and deliberate as the floggers alternated between soft trails and precise strikes. The synchronized rhythm created a symphony of sensation that reverberated through their bodies. Each strike was perfectly timed to ensure neither was left waiting too long, the alternating snaps of leather keeping their senses sharp and their arousal building.

Ningning’s head tilted back, her lips parting as the flogger’s strands brushed over the curve of her lower back, followed by a precise strike just beneath her shoulder blades. The sting blended with a spreading warmth, her breathing growing shallower as the sensations layered. Each strike heightened the ache in her chest, the clamps on her nipples pulling slightly with every flinch, amplifying the experience. “Oh… oh…” she whimpered, her voice trembling as the sensations pushed her closer to her limits.

Giselle, on the other hand, squirmed against the bonds, her moans low and breathy as the flogger struck her thighs with a sharp crack. The impact sent a shiver up her spine, the ache settling into a dull throb that pulsed through her sensitive skin. Her nipples, adorned with the clamps, tugged faintly with every motion, the combination of pain and arousal sending her reeling. “Ahh…” she gasped, her hips shifting as her body sought release from the growing tension.

Switching to a synchronized rhythm, you struck their thighs in tandem, the floggers landing with a sharp snap that made them cry out simultaneously. The matching reactions sent a thrill through the room, their voices blending in a harmony of raw sensation. The sight of them together, bound and trembling, with the faint sheen of sweat glistening on their skin, was mesmerizing.

The strikes grew slightly firmer, the intensity increasing as you alternated between their backs, shoulders, and thighs. Each impact pulled a deeper reaction from them, their cries becoming louder, their bodies arching against the ropes as the pain crept closer to the brink of too much—but never crossing the line. Their flushed cheeks and trembling thighs betrayed the arousal simmering beneath the surface, the pain merging seamlessly with pleasure.

“Breathe,” you instructed, your voice steady and grounding. The reminder was enough to steady their erratic breaths, their chests rising and falling as they adjusted to the rhythm. The floggers snapped against their skin again, and this time, Ningning’s hips bucked involuntarily, a soft moan spilling from her lips as her arousal became undeniable. The dampness soaking her panties left no question of her response, the heat pooling at her core almost unbearable.

Giselle, too, was unraveling under the dual sensations. Her body trembled with every strike, her breaths shallow and uneven as the clamps tugged with each movement. “Please…” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, the word dripping with need. Her thighs quivered, the evidence of her arousal glistening faintly between her legs.

The room was alive with the sounds of their moans, the rhythmic crack of the floggers, and the faint creak of the ropes above them. The atmosphere was charged, every sound and motion amplifying the intimacy of the moment. Their bodies were painted with faint red marks from the floggers, the lingering sting merging with the ache of the clamps to push them further into surrender.

You paused briefly, letting the floggers rest against your sides as you stepped closer. Your hands brushed over their trembling forms, the gentle touch a stark contrast to the intensity of the flogging. “You’re both incredible,” you murmured, your voice soft but commanding.

Positioned between them, your hands moved with deliberate care, teasing the soft line where their thighs met their centers. The proximity alone sent shivers through their bodies, the charged tension in the air palpable. Ningning’s hips shifted instinctively, a soft, breathy moan escaping her lips as your fingers hovered maddeningly close to her entrance. The barest brush of your touch against her slick panties drew a sharp gasp, her body arching as though every nerve had been primed for this moment. “Please…” she whispered, her voice trembling with need, the dampness soaking through the fabric leaving no question of her arousal.

On Giselle’s side, your fingers mirrored the same featherlight touch, barely skimming the delicate skin beneath the damp fabric at her core. Her breath hitched audibly, her bound wrists tugging gently at the ropes as if seeking some anchor amidst the overwhelming sensations. “Mmm… oh…” she moaned, her thighs trembling as her body leaned subtly toward you, desperate for more contact. The clamps adorning her nipples heightened every subtle motion, the tug of the chain combining pain and pleasure in a way that made her hips press eagerly against your teasing fingers.

You alternated between them with meticulous precision, your touch gentle yet deliberate. A teasing stroke here, a fleeting graze there—just enough to push them closer to the edge without offering the satisfaction their bodies so clearly craved. Ningning’s moans grew louder, her hips lifting in small, involuntary movements as if drawn by invisible strings. Her core glistened beneath the thin layer of her panties, soaking through the delicate fabric, the evidence of her surrender shining in the golden light. “Ahh… I can’t…” she gasped, her voice shaking, the ache in her body now unbearable yet exquisite.

Giselle was lost in the rhythm of your touch, her thighs quivering as her moans softened into low, fervent whispers. “Mmm… please,” she murmured, her lips parting as she gave in completely. Her body rocked subtly, her movements bolder with each stroke, while the clamps on her nipples pulsed in time with the ache radiating through her. Her voice, breathy and trembling, added to the tension that thickened the air. “More…”

Between them, you worked like a conductor orchestrating a symphony, their bodies the instruments responding perfectly to your touch. The wet sounds of their arousal, the quiet clink of the chain between the clamps, and the soft moans that spilled from their lips blended into a harmony of pleasure and need. Every shift of your fingers and every intentional pause amplified their yearning, drawing them closer to the precipice with every touch.”

Ningning’s response was a choked moan, her body trembling as her slickness overflowed, soaking the thin fabric of her panties until it clung to her. Giselle whimpered in unison, her thighs trembling as her own need reached a fever pitch. Their breaths became erratic, their gazes hazy and unfocused, their arousal undeniable as they teetered on the edge of release.

Just as the crescendo seemed inevitable, you slowed your movements, teasingly lightening your touch until your fingers hovered maddeningly close to their centers without fully making contact. Ningning let out a desperate whimper, her hips lifting instinctively toward your touch, only for you to withdraw entirely. “Ahh… please,” she moaned, her voice trembling with need.

Giselle echoed her plea, her lips parting as a low, drawn-out whine spilled from her throat. “Don’t stop… please,” she murmured, her voice thick with desperation as her thighs quivered against the restraint of her own arousal.

With a small, deliberate pause, you slipped your fingers to their soaked panties, pressing lightly against the fabric to collect the wetness that pooled there. Both of them gasped, the sudden pressure sending a jolt of sensation through their bodies. “You’re dripping,” you said softly, your voice a mixture of approval and tease.

Holding your fingers up to Ningning first, you pressed them lightly to her lips. “Taste yourself,” you commanded gently. Her eyes widened slightly, her breath catching, but she obeyed, her lips parting to take your fingers into her mouth. Her tongue flicked against them tentatively at first, her eyes fluttering shut as the intimate taste of her own arousal spread across her palate. A soft moan escaped her throat as she sucked lightly, her cheeks flushing deeper.

Turning to Giselle, you offered her the same. “Your turn.” Without hesitation, her lips wrapped around your fingers, her tongue tracing deliberately against them as her moan resonated low and deep, her lashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks. The shared intimacy of tasting themselves lingered in the air, their gazes flicking to each other, a mirrored hunger reflected in their expressions.

Their breathing grew shallow as you moved behind them, the tension in the room thickening. Their bound hands, secured above their heads, stretched their bodies taut, their exposed curves highlighted by the glow of the golden light. The vulnerability of their position sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through them, their soaked panties clinging to their flushed, sensitive skin.

You placed a hand on Ningning’s lower back, the heat of her skin radiating against your palm. “Good girl,” you murmured softly before raising your hand and delivering a sharp smack to her ass. The sound echoed through the room, her gasp sharp and startled as her body jolted forward. The sting lingered, blooming into a warmth that sent a shudder through her.

Without hesitation, you turned to Giselle, delivering the same measured strike to her. Her response was different—lower, more guttural—as her bound wrists shifted slightly, and her legs trembled beneath her. “Mmm…” she moaned, her voice thick with a mixture of pain and pleasure.

You alternated between them, your strikes deliberate, each impact eliciting a sharp gasp or moan. Their backs arched further with each touch, their bodies instinctively lifting to meet your hand. The heat radiating from their reddened skin blended seamlessly with the growing slickness soaking through their panties.

Once their breathing became ragged and their moans deepened, you let your hands drift lower, teasing the edges of the damp fabric covering their centers. Both women froze for a moment, their bodies trembling in anticipation as you pressed lightly against the soaked cloth. The heat from their folds was undeniable, and your teasing touch only heightened their arousal.

With a swift, deliberate motion, you brought your palm up against Ningning’s throbbing area, the spank sharp even through the damp barrier of her panties. She cried out instantly, her voice raw and breathless. “Ahhh—oh!” Her hips bucked forward, her thighs trembling as the mix of sting and pleasure shot through her body.

Giselle barely had time to react before your other hand landed on hers in a similar motion. Her moan was deeper, her legs quaking as she pressed her hips against the table. “Mmm… oh my God!” she gasped, the vibration of her voice carrying through the room.

Sliding your hands under their thighs, you brought your palms up, the strikes landing directly on their folds. Their voices rose in unison, desperate and raw. “Please…” Ningning whimpered, her body quaking as another spank drew a muffled scream. Giselle’s voice followed, her cries breathless and broken as she teetered on the edge of release.

“You feel it, don’t you?” you murmured, your voice low and commanding, leaning close enough for your breath to tickle their ears. “The way your bodies crave this, the way you’ve surrendered completely.”

They nodded helplessly, their voices lost in the symphony of gasps and moans that filled the room. The smell of their arousal mingled with the warmth radiating from their skin, creating an intoxicating atmosphere. Their panties clung to their slick folds, glistening in the light as their trembling bodies sought release. Every strike sent ripples of sensation through them, pushing them closer and closer to the precipice, their cries growing louder and more desperate with each passing second.

Suddenly, you untied the ropes that bound their hands above their heads, granting them a fleeting moment of respite. Their arms fell limply, their muscles trembling from the strain and the lingering arousal coursing through them. They flexed their fingers instinctively, a faint tingling running through their limbs as they adjusted to the sudden freedom.

“Take off your panties,” you commanded, your voice calm but firm, cutting through the haze of the moment. “And give them to me.”

The instruction left no room for hesitation. Ningning’s trembling hands moved first, hooking her thumbs under the waistband of her panties and sliding them down her thighs. The damp fabric clung slightly before coming free, revealing her reddened lips. Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade as she held the soaked garment in her hand, the wetness undeniable against her skin.

Giselle mirrored her, peeling the damp fabric from her heated core with slow, deliberate movements. The cool air brushing against her sensitive skin made her inhale sharply, her eyes flicking briefly to Ningning before focusing on you. She held her panties between her fingers, feeling the slick weight of her arousal before hesitantly extending them toward you.

You accepted them with steady hands, your expression unreadable but commanding. “Feel them,” you instructed, holding the garments back toward them briefly. “Understand just how deeply your bodies have responded.”

Ningning’s fingers brushed over the damp fabric, her eyes widening slightly as she pressed her lips together, trying to contain her reaction. “Oh my god…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her cheeks glowing as she comprehended just how soaked they were.

Giselle’s response was quieter, her thumb grazing the wetness as a small, knowing smile tugged at her lips. “That’s… a lot,” she murmured, her breath hitching as the realization settled over her.

The moment was fleeting. Without a word, you folded their panties neatly, the damp fabric a testament to their arousal. With deliberate care, you slid them into your pockets, before stepping forward, your presence grounding them as their breathing quickened.

“Hands behind your backs,” you said, your voice smooth and unyielding, and they obeyed immediately. Their arms moved into position, trembling slightly as you secured their wrists once more with soft, silken ropes. Each loop was precise, snug without being harsh, holding them firmly yet comfortably.

“I want you both to sit tight for a moment. I’ll be right back,” you instructed, your tone firm yet reassuring. With a nod, you turned and left the room, your quiet footsteps fading into the adjacent chamber.

Left to their own devices, Ningning and Giselle’s minds raced with curiosity, their bodies still alight with the sensations you’d left them to process. Giselle, her chest still heaving, turned toward Ningning with a faint, knowing smile. “That was… so good,” she whispered, her voice tinged with excited apprehension.

Ningning let out a breathy laugh, her cheeks glowing as she leaned slightly forward. “I can’t believe how wet I am right now,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, tinged with awe and vulnerability. A shiver ran through her as she shifted slightly, the slickness between her thighs a constant reminder of her arousal.

Before Giselle could respond, the sound of your footsteps returning drew their attention. You stepped back into the room, your presence commanding yet calm, your arms cradling two sleek, identical machines that hummed faintly with potential. The golden light of the room glinted off their polished surfaces, casting a warm glow that seemed to heighten the anticipation.

Giselle’s eyes widened in recognition as her gaze fell on the devices—two Sybians, infamous for their unrelenting intensity. Though she had never personally experienced one, the stories she’d heard were enough to send a shiver down her spine, her breath catching in her throat. Beside her, Ningning regarded the machines with a blend of curiosity and confusion, her innocence apparent in the whispered query, “Wait… what are those?”

Leaning closer, Giselle whispered, her voice tinged with both apprehension and excitement, “They’re… well, let’s just say they’re intense.”

You positioned the Sybians carefully, facing each other, the low hum of their engines vibrating faintly in the quiet room. The promise of what lay ahead hung thick in the air, a heady mix of arousal and nervous anticipation. Your movements were deliberate, almost ceremonial, as you arranged the scene, ensuring every detail was perfect. Ningning and Giselle watched, their bound hands resting behind them, their breathing shallow as they tried to steady themselves for what was to come.

With meticulous care, you guided them toward the Sybians, their knees trembling slightly as they straddled the velvety surface of the devices. The upholstery was soft against their thighs, a tactile contrast to the power that lay just beneath the surface. The slight height of the machines forced them into a position that was equal parts vulnerable and intimate, their bodies cradled by the contours designed to meet their most sensitive areas.

As they settled into place, the machines hummed to life, their low vibrations spreading through the room. Ningning gasped softly as the first subtle tremor reached her, her hips shifting instinctively in response. The sensation was like a gentle pulse, resonating deep within her core and coaxing her body into heightened awareness. Her lips parted as a soft, breathy moan escaped her. “Oh…” The sound carried a note of surprise, her innocence melting into tentative exploration.

Giselle, more prepared for the experience, exhaled a slow, shaky breath as the low purr of the Sybian spread through her. The vibration was pervasive, sinking into her muscles and radiating outward, like a wave of warmth that seemed to unwind her body from the inside out. Her head tilted back slightly, her bound wrists pulling faintly against the ropes as she surrendered to the initial sensations. “God…” she murmured, her voice low and tinged with both awe and arousal.

The machines were still on their lowest setting, their vibrations soft but insistent, like a whisper coaxing their bodies to respond. The hum resonated through their folds, teasing their most sensitive nerves without overwhelming them. It was a careful prelude, a tender invitation to let go. Ningning’s hips began to shift involuntarily, seeking more pressure, the dampness between her thighs betraying how deeply her body was responding. “It’s… so much,” she whispered, her voice trembling with both nerves and arousal.

You watched closely, your eyes flicking between Ningning and Giselle, gauging their reactions. Their breaths were shallow, their bodies quivering with the lingering intensity of the Sybians’ vibrations. It was clear they were teetering on the edge, their flushed cheeks and parted lips betraying their heightened states of arousal. Satisfied that they were ready for the next step, you moved with deliberate precision, reaching for the chain that would transform their experience into something even more profound.

With a smooth motion, you adjusted the clamps already adorning their sensitive nipples, the faint creak of the metal audible in the quiet room. Ningning whimpered softly at the renewed pressure, her body tensing briefly before relaxing into the sensation. Giselle’s lips parted in a shaky exhale, her chest rising and falling as she adjusted to the small adjustment.

Then, with deliberate care, you connected the clamps—first attaching Ningning’s right nipple to Giselle’s left, and then repeating the action on the opposite side. The fine silver chain between them gleamed under the warm light, a delicate but unmistakable bridge that tethered their bodies and sensations together. The effect was immediate and electric. The slightest movement from one caused the chain to tug on the other, creating a feedback loop of stimulation that neither could escape.

Ningning gasped as the chain shifted with Giselle’s movement, the pull on her nipple sending a fresh wave of sensation rippling through her. “Ahh…” she moaned softly, her hips trembling against the Sybian beneath her. The cool metal of the chain warmed quickly against their flushed skin, its presence a constant, tangible reminder of their connection.

Giselle inhaled sharply as the chain tugged her in response, her own gasp echoing Ningning’s. The clamps’ unyielding grip amplified every shudder and twitch, their sensitive peaks now bound in a dance of give and take. “Oh… god…” she murmured, her voice low and breathy, her body swaying slightly as the sensations intertwined.

“Now, the only rule here is to sit still,” you commanded softly, your voice steady yet firm. The authority in your tone sent a shiver through them, grounding them even as their bodies threatened to spiral into the overwhelming sensations. “If you move too much, you’ll only make it more intense for each other.”

The Sybians hummed beneath them, their vibrations deepening as you turned the controls slightly. The shift was subtle at first, a gentle increase that teased their already overstimulated bodies. Ningning let out a broken moan, her thighs clenching instinctively against the velvety surface of the device. The vibrations seemed to seep into her very core, spreading like wildfire through her body. “Oh my god…” she gasped, her voice trembling as the sensations climbed higher.

Giselle’s reaction was no less immediate. Her lips parted in a low, guttural moan, her bound hands pulling slightly against the ropes as the Sybian’s pulsations grew more insistent. Each small movement from Ningning sent the chain between them tugging at her clamps, adding a sharp, delicious edge to the vibrations that rippled through her body. “Mmm… it’s so much,” she managed to whisper, her voice thick with need.

The clamps acted as a bridge between them, magnifying every tremor and shudder. A twitch from one sent a wave of sensation to the other, binding them in an intimate, inescapable loop of shared pleasure. Ningning’s moans grew louder as she struggled to keep still, the vibrations and the relentless pull of the chain driving her closer to the edge. “Ahh… I can’t… it’s too much…” she whimpered, her voice a mix of desperation and exhilaration.

Giselle, no longer able to hold back, let out a trembling cry as the chain tugged at her again, her body arching against the device. “Oh… oh god… please…” she gasped, the rhythmic pulsations of the Sybian combining with the clamps’ steady pressure to push her closer to surrender.

Ningning’s breath hitched, her chest rising and falling as her body quivered beneath the mounting waves of pleasure. The air around her was thick, carrying the faint, musky scent of arousal mingled with the warmth of their shared exertion. Her thighs trembled against the velvety surface of the Sybian, the vibrations resonating deep within her, coaxing her closer to the edge with every relentless pulse. The clamps connecting her to Giselle tugged lightly with each subtle movement, a sharp yet tantalizing sting that tethered her pleasure to her partner’s.

Her breaths turned ragged, a series of shallow gasps punctuated by moans that grew louder as her climax approached. The sting of the clamps, now warmed by her flushed skin, was a constant reminder of her vulnerability and connection. Each breath carried a faint sweetness, the room’s ambient scent laced with the unmistakable notes of sweat and arousal that hung heavily in the air. It was intoxicating, enveloping her senses as she surrendered to the rising tide of sensation.

Giselle, seated opposite her, was equally enraptured. She watched Ningning with wide, glassy eyes, her own body responding to every tremor that traveled through the chain between them. The faint jingle of the silver links with every motion sent shocks of stimulation to her oversensitive peaks. The sight of Ningning on the brink—her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, her moans rising in pitch—only pushed Giselle closer to her own edge. The sharp, metallic tang of the clamps against her skin mixed with the faint musk in the air, creating a sensory symphony that heightened the intimacy of their shared experience.

Ningning’s body tensed, her muscles tightening as the vibrations reached a crescendo, the pleasure building to a point where she could no longer contain it. Her hips bucked instinctively, the Sybian beneath her humming relentlessly against her swollen lips. The sensation was maddening, a sweet torment that stole her breath. The tug of the clamps against her nipples sent shockwaves that echoed through her chest, amplifying every pulse of the machine beneath her.

Finally, with a choked cry, Ningning tumbled over the edge. Her climax erupted in a cascade of pure, unbridled ecstasy, the pleasure radiating outward in waves that seemed to reach every nerve ending in her body. Her back arched sharply, her bound hands pulling against the ropes as she cried out, her voice raw and guttural. The room echoed with her cries, the sound rich with the depth of her release. A sheen of sweat glistened on her skin, the heat of her orgasm suffusing her body with an electric warmth.

But her climax triggered an unexpected reaction. As she convulsed in pleasure, her body shifted slightly, pulling against the chain that bound her to Giselle. The sudden tug on the clamps sent a searing sting through Giselle’s sensitive peaks, forcing a sharp intake of breath. “Ahh—!” The pain, brief and sharp, acted as a spark, igniting the overwhelming pleasure already coursing through her. The sudden shift from the sharp edge of sensation to the deep pulse of pleasure tipped her over the brink.

Giselle’s climax hit her like a bolt of lightning, her body convulsing as the pleasure surged through her like an unstoppable current. Her thighs clenched against the Sybian, her toes curling as waves of ecstasy consumed her. “Oh… oh my god!” she cried, her voice breaking into gasps as her muscles tightened and released in rhythm with the machine’s relentless vibrations. Her bound wrists strained slightly against the ropes as her body arched, her head tilting back as she surrendered fully to the storm of sensation.

The chain between them continued to shift, transferring the echoes of their climaxes back and forth. Each shudder from one sent a tremor to the other, keeping the intensity alive, binding them in an intimate dance of shared release. The air was thick with their moans and cries, the scent of sweat and arousal mingling with the faint metallic tang of the clamps and the warmth of their bodies.

As the waves of their orgasms ebbed, both women collapsed against the Sybians, their bodies trembling from the aftershocks. Their breaths came in short, uneven gasps, their flushed skin glowing in the golden light of the room. Ningning’s head lolled forward, her damp hair clinging to her forehead as she let out a soft, breathy laugh. “I… I can’t believe that…” she murmured, her voice trembling with exhaustion and satisfaction.

Giselle let out a weak chuckle in response, her body still tingling as she struggled to catch her breath. “That was… oh my god…” she whispered, her words trailing off into a soft sigh.

You approached with a quiet calm, your hands steady as you began to remove the clamps. Ningning flinched slightly as the pressure released, a gasp escaping her lips as the blood rushed back to the nubs. Giselle let out a low whimper as her clamps were removed, the absence of the sting leaving behind a bittersweet ache. The chain clinked softly as you set it aside, the delicate links gleaming under the light.

The room was silent for a moment, save for their heavy breathing. The faint scent of sweat and musk lingered in the air, a reminder of the intensity they had just shared. Slowly, you helped them off the Sybians, their legs shaky as they stood on unsteady feet. Their gazes met briefly, and in that moment, they shared a wordless connection—one of trust, vulnerability, and the profound bond forged through their shared journey.

The air is heavy with the scent of perfume mingled with the musky, unmistakable aroma of arousal, amplifying the intimacy of the moment. Your voice broke the silence, steady and inviting. “This entire evening began because there were questions. Uncertainties. I think it’s time we find some unforgettable answers.”

With a gesture, you beckoned them to follow. They obeyed, their movements tentative but eager as they stepped into the next space, their trust in you palpable.

The room they entered was a world unto itself, bathed in a soft, golden light that seemed to cast everything in a sensual glow. Shadows played along the walls, which were adorned with subtle, tasteful art hinting at themes of connection and exploration. The centerpiece of the room was the table—an object both functional and artful. It was designed with purpose, offering support and exposure in equal measure. Its smooth, cool surface gleamed under the light, and the padded leg rests positioned on either side made its intent unmistakable.

The air was cooler here, brushing against their bare skin as you gestured for them to move toward the table. The change in temperature heightened their awareness of every inch of their exposed bodies.

With their hands still securely tied behind their backs, you stepped closer, offering calm guidance. “Let me help you,” you murmured, your voice steady but soft. You lifted Ningning first, your hands firm but gentle as you supported her waist and carried her toward the edge of the table. She let out a soft gasp as her thighs brushed the cool surface. With care, you guided her legs into the padded rests on either side of the table. The gentle pressure of the rests spread her legs deliberately, leaving her fully exposed while providing enough support to keep her stable. Her bound hands rested against her lower back, the ropes pressing lightly into her skin as she adjusted to the vulnerable pose. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, her arousal evident in the faint tremble of her body.

Next, you turned to Giselle, offering the same care and precision. Her flushed cheeks deepened in color as you approached, her gaze flicking briefly to Ningning before meeting yours. Without protest, she allowed you to lift her, her body pliant under your hands as you settled her beside Ningning. You guided her legs into the rests, positioning her with equal care. The deliberate spread of her thighs mirrored Ningning’s, the padded supports keeping her comfortably stable despite the exposure. The ropes binding her wrists brushed against her back, grounding her in the moment as her breathing quickened. A soft shiver passed through her as she adjusted to the position, the coolness of the table contrasting sharply with the heat blooming across her body.

The leg rests left them both completely open, their flushed folds glistening in the soft light with evidence of their earlier arousal. Their slightly reclined positions and bound wrists emphasized their vulnerability, making them acutely aware of their own exposure. The design of the table kept them secure yet unrestricted, every detail thoughtfully crafted to heighten their sensitivity.

Their gazes met across the table, their expressions a mix of embarrassment and curiosity, with undeniable arousal flickering in their eyes. The leg rests not only positioned them perfectly but also ensured they could see one another clearly—every curve, every trembling breath, every glisten of their shared vulnerability. This perspective forced them to confront not only their own openness but also the beauty of the other, creating a charged intimacy that crackled between them.

“Good,” you said softly, stepping back to take in the sight before you. Their spread legs, the sheen of sweat on their skin, and the soft flush painting their cheeks created a stunning tableau. “You’re both perfect like this.”

The praise sent visible shivers through their bodies, their breathing deepening as they settled into the moment. The tension in the room was palpable, each subtle movement and soft exhale amplifying the anticipation that enveloped them. The deliberate positioning, the careful exposure, and the warmth of your voice wrapped around them, leaving them completely immersed in the present.

From a nearby table, you reached for two butt plugs, their sleek surfaces already glistening with a generous coating of lubricant. The subtle gleam of the objects caught the soft light, drawing their attention. Your gaze flickered over both women as you held the plugs in your hands, your movements deliberate and calculated.

Starting with Giselle, you stepped beside her. Her bound hands rested behind her lower back, her body tense with anticipation. “Relax,” you murmured, your voice calm and soothing. Your hand rested firmly on the curve of her hip, grounding her as you brought the tip of the plug to her back entrance. The coolness of the metal met her warm, flushed skin, and she inhaled sharply, her body stiffening momentarily before yielding.

Her tight ring fluttered under the gentle pressure, the initial resistance giving way as you eased the plug inside with slow, deliberate movements. The sensation was unfamiliar but not unwelcome—a mix of stretch and fullness that sent a shiver through her. Giselle’s breathing quickened, a low moan slipping from her lips as her body adjusted. The weight of the plug settled deeply within her, the sensation of being filled creating a pulse of heat that spread to her core.

From her position, Ningning watched intently, her wide eyes fixed on the sight of the plug slipping into Giselle’s body. The intimacy of the moment left Ningning trembling, her lips parting as her own arousal deepened. A soft whimper escaped her, her thighs quivering as she anticipated her turn.

Giselle exhaled shakily as the plug settled fully into place, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson and her thighs trembling with the effort of holding still. “Good girl,” you murmured, your voice rich with approval. The tension in her shoulders eased, her body relaxing as she adjusted to the sensation. A soft moan escaped her lips, the fullness bringing a strange but exhilarating pleasure.

Turning your attention to Ningning, you moved beside her. Unlike Giselle, her body tensed visibly as you brought the plug to her entrance. Her tight ring quivered under the cool touch of the metal, her breaths quick and uneven. “Breathe,” you instructed gently, your free hand stroking the small of her back in soothing circles. “Relax. Let your body accept it.”

Ningning whimpered softly, her body resisting at first, but she focused on your voice, her breaths coming in slower, measured waves. With patient care, you applied gentle, consistent pressure, coaxing her to open for you. “That’s it,” you murmured, your tone low and encouraging. “You’re doing so well.”

Finally, with a soft, wet sound, the plug slipped inside, settling into place with a quick plop. Ningning gasped sharply, her body jerking slightly as she adjusted to the intrusion. The sensation was intense—a stretching, filling heat that left her trembling. Her head tilted forward, her cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. As she focused on her breathing, the tension in her muscles softened, and the unfamiliar weight of the plug began to sink in, igniting a low, persistent heat deep within her.

From across the table, Giselle’s gaze met Ningning’s, her lips parting in a small, knowing smile. The shared vulnerability in their expressions created an unspoken bond, their arousal deepening as they took in the sight of one another.

As their eyes lingered on each other, the plugs within them seemed to pulse in response to the visual stimulation. Ningning’s lips trembled as the subtle throb of fullness radiated through her, amplifying the heat already pooling between her thighs. Giselle’s cheeks flushed darker as her breathing quickened, the sensation of the plug sending shivers up her spine at the sight of Ningning’s wet folds and trembling thighs. Their bodies reacted in tandem, the intimacy of their shared position heightening the sensations coursing through them.

“Perfect,” you said, stepping back to admire the tableau before you. The sight of their flushed bodies, the plugs nestled snugly within them, and the glistening evidence of their arousal was nothing short of mesmerizing.

Your hands moved with purpose, brushing lightly along their inner thighs. The contrast of your warm skin against their cool flesh drew gasps from both of them, their hips shifting instinctively at the sensation. Ningning’s thighs quivered as she felt her wetness slick against her skin, while Giselle bit her lower lip to stifle a moan, her body trembling under your touch.

“Trust me to take you where you’ve never been before,” you said, your tone calm but firm, your presence a steady anchor in the storm of sensations flooding their bodies.

They nodded in unison, their gazes flicking briefly to the other’s exposed, flushed sex before returning to you. The sight of one another—the swollen, glistening evidence of their shared arousal and the plugs nestled intimately within—intensified their responses. Ningning’s lips parted, her breathing quick and shallow, as her hips lifted slightly, her arousal pooling beneath her. Giselle’s legs trembled visibly, her hands twitching faintly in their bindings as she struggled to maintain her position. The unspoken connection between them bound them tighter than any rope, their shared vulnerability becoming an electric force in the room.

You stood like a shadow of command, donned in sleek black gloves that seemed to absorb the dim light rather than reflect it. Every movement was deliberate, precise, as if you were an enigmatic conductor preparing to orchestrate a symphony of sensations. 

The room, bathed in a soft, ambient glow, felt alive with anticipation. The air was thick, a heady mix of warmth and the faint, musky scent of arousal that clung to the participants like a second skin. Every breath was heavier, every sound amplified, from the soft creak of the table to the slight rustle of fabric. Giselle and Ningning knelt in vulnerable expectation, their flushed faces glistening faintly in the subdued light, their eyes locked on you with a mixture of trepidation and eager surrender.

With the gloves flexing against your fingers, you moved closer, your gaze sharp and intent. “We’re raising the stakes,” you murmured, your voice low and commanding, sending a ripple of tension through the room. They watched, their lips parting as their breathing quickened, aware that the next moments would challenge their boundaries further.

The new clamps gleamed faintly in your hand, they’re longer, more elaborate designs promising a deeper sensation. You approached Ningning first, your gloved hand brushing over the soft, flushed curve of her breast as she let out a shaky breath. The room seemed to hold its breath as you secured the first clamp, the cool metal biting lightly into her sensitive peak. A soft gasp escaped her lips, the sting sharp but intoxicating, her body responding with a subtle shiver as the clamp tightened.

Giselle was next, her body tensing momentarily before she exhaled slowly, her chest rising toward your touch as you affixed the clamp to her. The device closed over her nipple with a firm click, its grip sending a wave of warmth radiating from the point of contact. Her lips parted as a low moan slipped out, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as she adjusted to the sensation.

But the clamps alone weren’t your final act. With calculated precision, you introduced a weight suspended delicately between them, its polished surface gleaming faintly in the soft light. The fine rope connecting the clamps grew taut as the weight hung in balance, a silent promise of the delicate interplay between pleasure and pain. The shift in pressure elicited a duet of gasps from the two women, their bodies adjusting instinctively to the new, heavier sensation.

You weren’t finished. From your pocket, you produced two pairs of panties—the same ones they had given you earlier, now slightly crumpled but still heavy with the dampness of their earlier passion. The delicate fabric, saturated with their arousal, carried a potent, lingering scent that filled the air as you held them up. The sight alone made both women’s eyes widen, their breaths hitching as they recognized their most intimate garments.

Instead of returning the panties to their respective owners, you swapped them. Ningning’s panties, still soaked, were brought to Giselle’s lips. The soft fabric brushed against her mouth, the dampness transferring a hint of warmth to her flushed skin. Giselle opened obediently, her tongue grazing the material as she accepted it, her lips closing tightly around the fabric. A muffled moan escaped her, her cheeks darkening as the heady taste of Ningning’s arousal filled her senses.

Next, Giselle’s panties were turned toward Ningning. The sight made Ningning’s lips tremble, her gaze darting toward Giselle briefly before parting her mouth. The damp fabric slipped inside, brushing against her tongue and flooding her senses with the musky essence of her partner. A soft whimper escaped her, muffled by the gag as her thighs quivered against the table. The mingling sensations of taste, texture, and the intimate act itself sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through her body, leaving her breathless.

But you weren’t done. With calculated precision, you retrieved a fine rope and tied it securely to the weight that hung between their clamps. The other end of the rope was looped through the panties now acting as their gags, the tension creating a delicate balance. The setup ensured that the weight’s position depended entirely on their ability to keep the fabric held firmly in place with their mouths.

“Hold it,” you instructed, your voice calm but firm, commanding their full attention. “If you let go, the clamps will pull free. The choice is yours.”

The weight of your words sank in immediately. Their glossy eyes darted to the rope, then to each other, wide with a mixture of trepidation and arousal. A silent understanding passed between them, their bodies tensing as they adjusted to this new layer of challenge. Both nodded, their muffled breaths quickening as they accepted the stakes.

Ningning was the first to react, her thighs trembling as she tried to maintain her composure. The subtle pull of the weight tugged at her sensitive nipples, the clamps intensifying every small motion. Each jolt of sensation sent ripples of pleasure and sharp stings coursing through her, her muffled whimpers growing louder as she fought to steady herself. The fabric in her mouth teased her tongue, the lingering taste of Giselle’s arousal adding an almost surreal intimacy to her predicament.

Giselle fared no better, though she held herself with a fraction more control. She bit down firmly on the soft, damp fabric of Ningning’s panties, her lips tightening as the weight swayed faintly between them. Every movement created a delicate tension that sent sharp, electrifying pulses through her clamps. The stinging pleasure spread across her chest and down to her core, each shift adding to the heat pooling between her thighs. Her muffled moans were low and throaty, her breaths coming in shallow bursts as her body fought to adapt to the exquisite torment.

The air in the room grew thicker, heavy with the mingling scents of their arousal and the faint metallic tang of the clamps. The ambient lighting cast golden shadows on their trembling forms, highlighting every quiver, every subtle motion. Their glistening folds, slick with evidence of their arousal, shone under the warm light, small beads of moisture trailing down their inner thighs.

You stepped back slightly, your hands folded behind your back, watching with quiet satisfaction as the weight swayed gently between them. Every tremor in their bodies, every muffled moan, sent ripples of shared sensation through the taut rope, binding them together in a fragile but electric equilibrium. The rope connecting their mouths to the clamps created a symphony of tension—each motion resonating through their bodies, amplifying the moment.

“Beautiful,” you said softly, your tone filled with calm approval.

They responded with muffled moans, the vibrations resonating through the soaked fabric of their gags. Ningning’s hips shifted slightly, her thighs trembling as her arousal continued to build, pooling beneath her. A bead of moisture slipped down her inner thigh, drawing a low, muffled whimper from her lips. Giselle’s chest heaved as she focused on steadying her breath, her body shivering with each pull of the clamps, her muffled cries blending harmoniously with Ningning’s.

With the stage perfectly set, you turned your attention to the vibrators resting in your gloved hands. The sleek, smooth surfaces glinted faintly in the ambient light as your fingers moved over them with a deliberate precision, each motion infused with purpose. For a moment, there was a hush, a reverent stillness, as you prepared for the next act of this intimate composition.

You stepped closer, the faint hum of the weight’s sway and the soft rustle of rope filling the room. Giselle and Ningning’s flushed bodies trembled in anticipation, their gags muffling their shallow breaths as their glossy eyes darted between you and the objects in your hands. Their legs spread wider, their glistening folds exposed to the cool air, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from their cores.

With exquisite care, you placed the vibrators on the outer lips of their eager sexes, the cold touch of the devices drawing gasps from both women. Ningning shuddered visibly, her thighs quivering as the initial contact sent ripples of sensation through her. Giselle’s hips twitched slightly, her muffled whimper vibrating through the fabric in her mouth. The vibrators rested there like poised instruments, their presence a tantalizing promise.

Then, with a flick of your fingers, you brought the devices to life. The vibrators hummed softly at first, their song blending seamlessly with the tension-charged air. The sound resonated not just in the room but seemed to echo deep within the women’s cores, a prelude to the symphony you were carefully crafting.

The first waves of vibration were subtle but insistent, coaxing their bodies into movement. Ningning arched slightly, a muffled cry escaping her as the gentle pulsing teased her sensitive lips. Giselle exhaled sharply through her gag, her chest heaving as she adjusted to the sensations coursing through her. Their reactions were immediate, their hips shifting involuntarily as the vibrators’ rhythm built slowly.

With deft adjustments, you increased the intensity. The hum deepened, growing richer and more resonant, filling the space with its intoxicating song. The vibrations now pulsed in steady waves, syncing with the rhythm of the girls’ trembling bodies. Their breaths became shallow, the rise and fall of their chests mirroring the unrelenting tempo of the devices. Giselle’s moans grew louder, muffled yet urgent, as her hips pressed closer to the source of her pleasure. Ningning’s hands gripped the edges of the table, her knuckles white as her body strained against the ropes and clamps that bound her.

Your gaze never wavered, every detail of their responses etched into your awareness. You adjusted the settings with the precision of a seasoned conductor, attuned to the smallest shifts in their cries, the slightest quiver of their thighs. The vibrators pulsed harder, their relentless rhythm sending jolts of pleasure through their already overstimulated bodies. The once-quiet room now echoed with the melody of their muffled cries and the low, persistent hum of the devices, the sound forming an uninhibited symphony of desire.

The crescendo built steadily, the tension between them palpable. Their flushed folds glistened with arousal, the vibrations drawing out a slick warmth that heightened the intensity of every sensation. The scent of their musk filled the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of the clamps and the subtle perfume lingering in the room. The heady aroma wrapped around them, amplifying the connection between mind and body.

As the devices continued their tireless pressure, you introduced a new layer to the symphony. Your gloved hands began a slow, deliberate journey along the insides of their thighs. The cool material of the gloves brushed against their overheated skin, the contrast sending shivers rippling through them. Ningning whimpered, her gag stifling the sound as her legs quaked under your touch. Giselle’s hips jerked involuntarily, her body seeking the pressure she so desperately needed.

Your fingertips danced along their sensitive skin, tracing the delicate curves of their inner thighs. Each caress was maddeningly gentle, a featherlight tease that left them yearning for more. The touch wasn’t enough to satisfy—it was a whisper of contact that promised release but kept it tantalizingly out of reach. The fine rope connecting their gags to the weight pulled taut with every movement, adding an extra layer of tension to their predicament.

Giselle’s hips twitched again, her body betraying her need for more. Her thighs clenched briefly, only to relax as the vibrations overwhelmed her once again. Ningning moaned softly around her gag, the sound vibrating through the fabric as her head tilted back, her eyes fluttering closed. Her fingers curled tighter against the table, her entire body stretched taut with unfulfilled desire.

Then, with a swift, decisive motion, your gloved fingers plunged into the molten heat of each woman, their slick arousal enveloping you as their bodies reacted immediately to the sudden intrusion. Giselle let out a shocked, muffled gasp, her back arching against the tension of the clamps. Ningning followed with a deeper, guttural moan, her hips jerking as her walls clenched tightly around your fingers.

“Ahhh… mmmph!” Giselle whimpered, her voice muffled by the fabric in her mouth, her thighs trembling as she adjusted to the dual onslaught of your fingers and the relentless hum of the vibrators.

“Mmm… ohhh,” Ningning cried, the panties in her mouth softening her desperate moans. Her body trembled violently, the tension in her thighs visible as she tried to hold steady against the overwhelming sensations.

Your hands worked with calculated precision, thrusting and curling in perfect harmony with the relentless rhythm of the vibrators. Every movement was deliberate, each touch aimed at stoking the fires within them. The wet, rhythmic sound of your thrusts mingled with their muffled cries and the hum of the vibrators, creating an erotic symphony that filled the room.

The air was thick with the scent of arousal, a heady musk mingled with the faint metallic tang of the clamps. Each breath was heavier, laden with anticipation and desire. The clamps tugged faintly with every motion, the delicate chains swaying and adding a constant sting that heightened their already overstimulated senses.

“Look at each other,” you whispered, your tone low but commanding, cutting through the haze of their ragged breathing. “See the ecstasy on your faces. This is real, and it’s happening to both of you.”

Their gazes lifted, hesitant and hazy with arousal, before locking onto one another. Giselle’s flushed cheeks and glazed eyes mirrored the same overwhelmed passion radiating from Ningning. In that shared moment, they saw themselves reflected in the other—the trembling thighs, the arch of their backs, the unrestrained pleasure in their moans.

“Mmm… Unnie…” Ningning whimpered, her voice muffled but still carrying the raw intensity of her feelings.

Giselle’s own muffled response came as her lips pressed tighter around the fabric, her eyes locking onto Ningning’s. “Mmm… you look… so good…” she moaned, her hips shifting as your fingers curled again, finding the spot that made her tremble uncontrollably.

The sight of each other—flushed, vulnerable, and writhing in synchronized bliss—heightened their arousal to dizzying heights. Their muffled cries grew louder, mingling as they surrendered completely to the sensations.

Your fingers moved with an intuitive rhythm, delving into their cores with the precision of an artist sculpting a masterpiece. The pads of your fingers grazed over their most sensitive spots, curling to press against hidden nerves that made their bodies jerk and spasm. When your thumb brushed over Ningning’s swollen nub, her body jolted, her muffled cry vibrating through her gag.

“Ahhh—ohhh!” she whimpered, her thighs trembling as the dual sensations pushed her closer to the edge. Her walls clenched tightly around your fingers, the slick heat enveloping you in a way that made each motion fluid and electrifying.

Giselle wasn’t far behind. The relentless thrusting and curling of your fingers sent waves of ecstasy radiating through her. “Mmmph… don’t stop!” she moaned, her voice vibrating against the fabric. Her body arched, her hips bucking involuntarily as she chased the release that was tantalizingly close.

The clamps tugged with every movement, the sharp sting blending seamlessly with the relentless pleasure coursing through their bodies. The vibrators pulsed harder, their rhythm unrelenting, and the room was alive with the symphony of muffled moans, gasps, and the slick sounds of your fingers working them toward their breaking points.

Their gazes remained locked, the intensity of their connection building with every shared moan and cry. They weren’t just watching each other—they were mirroring, feeling the same overwhelming sensations, tethered not just by the clamps and chains but by the raw intimacy of their shared experience.

“Don’t look away,” you murmured, your voice both commanding and soothing. “Stay with each other. Feel this together.”

Their cries grew more desperate, their bodies trembling violently as the crescendo neared. Each thrust of your fingers, each pulse of the vibrators, brought them closer to the inevitable. The moment hung in the air, electric and heavy, as their bodies teetered on the edge of release. The symphony of their pleasure filled the room, their connection deepening as they surrendered to the shared ecstasy.

Giselle, her once porcelain skin now glowing with vivid hues of arousal, was the first to succumb. The vibrator pressed firmly against her wet sex relentlessly, the rhythm an unyielding assault that synced perfectly with the precise thrusts and curls of your gloved fingers. Each calculated movement was designed to draw her closer to the edge, her body reacting with a raw, uncontrollable urgency. Her thighs trembled visibly, muscles quivering with the effort to hold still as her hips instinctively sought more pressure, more friction. The soft, relentless buzz of the vibrator sent deep, reverberating pulses through her core, unraveling her composure thread by thread.

Her breathing was uneven, sharp gasps escaping her parted lips as the waves of sensation coursed through her. Her chest heaved, the rise and fall of her breaths drawing attention to the beads of sweat trailing down her flushed skin. Each shiver, each arch of her back, was a testament to the unrelenting pleasure building within her.

Across from her, Ningning moaned softly against the gag between her lips, her muffled cries carrying an edge of desperation. The relentless rhythm of the vibrator pressed against her own slick folds mirrored Giselle’s torment, while your fingers worked her just as masterfully. Yet, even as her body writhed and arched under your touch, her gaze was fixed on Giselle. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from her partner’s unraveling—the way Giselle’s thighs quivered, her hips bucked, and her flushed cheeks glistened in the dim light.

The sight sent a jolt of shock and anticipation coursing through Ningning, heightening her own arousal. She whimpered against the gag, her muffled voice a mixture of awe and need as she watched Giselle’s mounting climax unfold. The connection between them—the shared vulnerability, the mirrored sensations—made every moment more intense, every touch and vibration more profound.

Giselle’s moans grew louder, sharper, her hips rocking desperately as she teetered on the brink. Her breaths turned shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly as every muscle in her core pulled taut. The vibrator’s relentless hum dug deeper into her, and the precise thrusts of your fingers coaxed her closer and closer to release. Her body trembled violently, the tension building to an unbearable peak, so unbearable that…

She screamed.

It was raw, primal, and utterly unrestrained. The sound tore through the room like a thunderclap, shattering the fragile equilibrium and reverberating off the walls. The force of Giselle’s scream was so visceral, so forceful, that it dislodged the gag from her lips. The damp fabric fell away, dragging the taut rope with it.

The weight plummeted instantly, yanking the clamps from their places in one brutal, unrelenting motion. The sharp metallic clatter of the clamps hitting the table punctuated the moment, a harsh counterpoint to Giselle’s piercing cry. Her head snapped back, her body arching violently as the pain hit—a fiery, stinging jolt that lanced through her sensitive peaks.

The sudden movement caused the plug nestled inside her to shift, pressing deeper against her inner walls. The fullness was maddening, its weight tugging slightly with each convulsion of her body, adding a new layer of sensation that bordered on overwhelming. The plug pulsed with her every breath, each subtle motion an exquisite mix of pleasure and pressure that amplified the storm raging through her body.

Across from her, Ningning’s muffled cry of surprise transformed into a full-throated scream as the clamps tore from her nipples. The sudden, searing pain ripped through her chest, sending her body into a spasmodic convulsion. Her eyes flew wide, tears pooling at the corners as the shock merged seamlessly with the relentless pleasure from the vibrator and your skilled fingers. The plug nestled deep within her shifted with her movements, its girth pressing insistently against her sensitive inner walls. The sensation was inescapable—filling her completely, intensifying the uncontrollable quaking of her thighs.

Ningning’s body trembled as the sensation of fullness took hold, her muscles contracting around the plug as her hips bucked instinctively. Each motion sent it pressing against new nerve endings, the lubed surface gliding effortlessly but unrelentingly with every shift. Her breath hitched, a mix of sharp whimpers and guttural moans spilling from her lips as the combination of the vibrator, your touch, and the unyielding presence of the plug became too much.

The room was alive with their screams, their voices colliding and amplifying in the charged air. The sharp, fiery pain of the clamps’ removal didn’t detract from the pleasure—it magnified it, adding an edge that sent their senses into overdrive. Their trembling thighs pressed against the relentless buzz of the vibrators, their hips bucking uncontrollably as the sensations overwhelmed them. The plugs, nestled deep inside, provided a constant reminder of their complete surrender, amplifying every vibration, every contraction, every spasm of their bodies.

Their bodies convulsed violently, each arch and shudder a testament to the overwhelming collision of pain and pleasure. Their swollen, oversensitized peaks throbbed with every heartbeat, the absence of the clamps leaving their nerves exposed and ablaze. The plugs moved subtly with their contractions, nudging against sensitive spots that sent new waves of sensation coursing through them, adding depth to their uncontrollable responses.

The symphony of their cries filled the room, a raw and primal testament to the depth of their shared experience. Their voices echoed, weaving together into a cacophony of desperation and release, each sound layering onto the next. Their shared screams became the crescendo, building to the inevitable climax that would consume them both.

And then it happened.

You felt it first in the way their bodies tensed—a subtle tightening of their cores, an instinctive reaction as their climaxes surged forward like an unstoppable tide. The plugs inside them seemed to magnify the tension, each subtle movement adding to their unraveling. Their walls pulsed around your fingers and the unyielding plugs, gripping tightly in a telltale rhythm that signaled their impending eruption. Recognizing the moment, you withdrew your hands with deliberate speed, ensuring nothing obstructed the force of their release.

The dam within them burst, and from their cores erupted a torrent of liquid ecstasy. They squirted—streams of warm, clear fluid arcing through the air, an undeniable declaration of their release. The sight was mesmerizing, a luminous display of their bodies’ raw, unfiltered response. Each spurt carried the weight of their shared passion, the vulnerability of the moment laid bare in every glistening arc.

The liquid splashed against their trembling bodies, the warm essence coating their exposed, flushed sexes. The heat of their release mingled with the lingering vibrations of the devices, amplifying the intensity of their sensations. Ningning let out a choked gasp, her moan raw and unrestrained as her thighs quivered violently. The plug inside her seemed to amplify the sensation, pressing firmly as her body convulsed, each spasm sending it moving just enough to heighten her ecstasy.

Their streams weren’t contained to their bodies alone. The arcing jets crossed the space between them, spraying each other’s thighs and stomachs in a chaotic, sensual cascade. Ningning’s release splattered against Giselle’s trembling skin, streaking her flushed chest and dripping down her abdomen in warm rivulets. Giselle’s own torrent painted Ningning’s heaving stomach and thighs, droplets clinging to her glistening skin before sliding away in teasing trails.

The sheer force of their release left the table beneath them soaked, glistening with the evidence of their climaxes. Each surge seemed more powerful than the last, their bodies responding with an intensity that even you hadn’t fully anticipated. For a moment, you found yourself taken aback, a faint flicker of surprise passing through your otherwise composed demeanor as the sheer volume of their shared ecstasy unfolded before you.

The sprays didn’t stop at their bodies. Streams arced further than expected, warm droplets landing on the floor, the surrounding table, and even your arms as you steadied yourself near them. Some of their essence reached their faces, warm, saline splashes landing on lips and cheeks. Giselle’s tongue darted out instinctively, catching a droplet of Ningning’s release and tasting the faintly salty intimacy of their shared moment. Ningning, wide-eyed and trembling, whimpered as she felt the same—her tongue brushing against her lips and meeting the unmistakable flavor of Giselle’s climax. It wasn’t just a connection; it was a visceral, undeniable bond that transcended words.

Their bodies quivered uncontrollably, each wave of pleasure rolling through them in relentless succession. Giselle’s thighs quaked as her hips bucked against the relentless echoes of her climax, her hands gripping the edges of the table as though to anchor herself. Ningning, her cheeks streaked with her own release and Giselle’s, let out a soft, broken moan, her body trembling as the final spasms left her utterly spent.

The cries they let out echoed through the room, raw and primal, the acoustics amplifying every gasp and moan into a symphony of passion. The unrestrained music of their climaxes filled every corner, a harmony of desperation and release that seemed to resonate beyond the walls. Each sound, each trembling shudder wove together into a tapestry of sensory overload, a shared expression of the overwhelming pleasure that consumed them.

Even as their streams began to wane, smaller bursts continued to spatter against their already soaked skin. Ningning’s thighs were slick with her own release, her essence mingling with Giselle’s in a chaotic, intoxicating display of vulnerability and pleasure. Giselle’s chest heaved as she took in shuddering breaths, her flushed skin shimmering in the golden light as trails of liquid traced down her stomach and thighs.

Finally, the torrents subsided, leaving their glistening bodies sprawled and trembling. The table beneath them was slick, the evidence of their shared climaxes pooling in small rivulets that dripped to the floor. The air hung heavy with the heady, musky perfume of their arousal, the scent a tangible reminder of the intimacy they had just shared.

The stillness of the room was broken only by the sound of their shallow breaths. Giselle and Ningning lay limp, their flushed bodies trembling faintly as they came down from the intensity of their shared release. The faint sheen of sweat and evidence of their climax clung to their skin, a vivid testament to the raw passion they had just experienced.

You stepped closer, your movements deliberate and soothing, your presence grounding them in the aftermath of what had just transpired. Slowly, you reached down to Giselle first, your hand brushing lightly over her lower back as you murmured, “Breathe and relax.” Carefully, you began to ease the plug from her, the gentle but firm motion drawing a soft gasp from her lips as her tight ring fluttered around the intrusion. As the plug slipped free with a quiet pop, a small dribble escaped her slick folds, trailing down her trembling thighs. Giselle shivered at the sensation as she adjusted to the absence.

You took a moment, letting her breathe as you moved to her bound wrists. “You’ve done so well,” you said softly, untying the ropes with practiced care. As her arms were freed, she let out a small sigh of relief, her muscles trembling from the strain but grateful for the release. Her hands rested limply on her lap for a moment before she slowly began to flex her fingers, her expression a mix of exhaustion and contentment.

Turning to Ningning, you repeated the process, your hand resting reassuringly on her hip. “Easy,” you said gently, your voice a calming balm. Ningning’s body tensed slightly at first, her breaths uneven, but with your steady guidance, the plug slid free. A soft, wet sound accompanied its removal, and a glistening bead of arousal followed, slipping down to pool beneath her. She let out a shaky whimper, her cheeks burning with renewed embarrassment as she tried to steady herself.

You placed the plug aside before reaching for the ropes binding her hands. “Relax, Ningning,” you murmured, your fingers deftly working to undo the knots. Her hands fell free, her wrists showing faint marks from the ropes, though there was no discomfort in her expression—only a quiet, lingering warmth. She flexed her fingers tentatively, her gaze flicking toward yours with a dazed but grateful look.

For a moment, you let them rest, their bodies too spent to move. You crouched beside them, brushing damp strands of hair from their flushed faces, your touch gentle and grounding. Giselle tilted her head into your hand slightly, her eyes fluttering closed as if savoring the brief comfort. Ningning blinked up at you, her expression dazed but filled with quiet gratitude, her lips parting as though she wanted to speak but couldn’t yet find the words.

“Well done,” you murmured softly, your tone a mix of praise and reassurance. The weight of the moment lingered, heavy with intimacy and trust, as you let them bask in the quiet aftermath.

Finally, after a few beats of stillness, you straightened and offered your hands to each of them. “Come on,” you said, your voice steady but warm. “Let’s get you up.”

Giselle and Ningning each took your hand, their fingers weakly gripping yours as you helped them sit upright. Both winced slightly, the overstimulation evident in the soft, breathy gasps that escaped their lips. When they swung their legs over the edge of the table, they faltered, their knees wobbling beneath them as they tried to stand. You supported them gently, your hands steadying their arms as they leaned against you for balance, their bodies still trembling from the intensity of their shared experience.

“Whoa…” Ningning muttered, clutching your arm for balance. Giselle let out a shaky laugh as she leaned into you for support, her body still trembling. “I don’t think I can walk straight for a week,” she said, her voice light but still breathless.

“Take your time,” you assured them, your hands steadying their arms as they slowly found their footing. Once they were upright, you stepped back, giving them a moment to adjust.

“Thank you,” Giselle said, her voice soft but sincere, her cheeks flushed not just from exertion but from a lingering sense of awe. Ningning nodded in agreement, her lips curving into a faint, grateful smile as she echoed, “Yeah… thank you.”

Ningning turned her head slightly, her half-lidded eyes catching Giselle’s. A faint, breathless laugh escaped her lips. “That… was incredible,” she murmured, her voice shaky but filled with awe. Giselle, still catching her breath, managed a soft smile, her cheeks deepening in color as she nodded in agreement. Words seemed insufficient, the intensity of the moment lingering between them, heavy and unspoken.

You stepped forward, your movements deliberate but calming, your voice soft yet firm. “You’ve both done wonderfully,” you said, your tone carrying an unmistakable note of pride. “It’s over now. You’ve experienced all you came for.”

The words hung in the air, settling over them like the final note of a beautiful symphony. For a moment, both women seemed to process the finality, their breaths still uneven, their flushed faces reflecting a mixture of contentment and loss. An emptiness where the intensity had burned now lingered in its place, raw and unfamiliar. They exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them, before Ningning spoke, her voice hesitant but filled with newfound boldness.

“I don’t want it to be over,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing deeper as she struggled to maintain eye contact. “I don’t even know how to describe how I feel right now, but I want… more.”

Giselle nodded, her voice low but steady. “You’ve given us something unforgettable. We want to thank you—properly. Not just with words.”

Your eyebrows raised slightly, though your expression remained composed. A flicker of reluctance passed over your face before you replied, your voice calm but softer, tinged with sincerity. “That’s not necessary,” you said. “This was always about you—your experience, your journey. There’s no need to thank me.”

The two women didn’t falter, their gazes locked on yours with earnest determination. Ningning leaned forward slightly, her voice trembling with a mix of nerves and excitement. “We want it,” she said, the quiet intensity of her words ringing out. Giselle echoed her sentiment with a soft, “Please,” her lips parting slightly as her eyes gleamed with certainty.

You studied them for a moment, your expression thoughtful. Then, giving a slight nod, your demeanor shifted from instructor to something warmer, more inviting. “If it’s something you truly want…” you began, your voice deepening with an edge of authority that sent a shiver through them, “then it’s a possibility.”

Their faces brightened with anticipation, their flushed cheeks deepening as they exchanged a quick glance. With a steady breath, you gestured toward the door. “Follow me.”

You extended a hand, and they took it eagerly, their legs still trembling as they stood. You led them through another doorway, the atmosphere shifting subtly as the space opened into a luxurious room. The centerpiece was a large, inviting bed draped in soft, elegant linens. The lighting was warm and intimate, the scent of fresh linen mingling with the lingering musk of their arousal.

They exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them, before their attention turned fully to you. With a mix of boldness and reverence, their hands moved toward you, beginning the process of undressing you. Ningning’s fingers were the first to find the buttons of your shirt, her movements slow and deliberate as she worked her way downward, her gaze flickering upward to meet yours. Giselle followed suit, her hands trailing lightly across your shoulders as she slid the fabric away, leaving your chest bare.

The room seemed to hold its breath as their hands continued, working in unison to undo your belt and ease your pants down with careful precision. They paused briefly, their eyes traveling over your now-exposed form, and a shared breath escaped them, a soft sound of awe and anticipation.

Wordlessly, you guided them forward, stepping out of the last remnants of your clothing and moving to the bed. You settle onto your back with deliberate ease, the soft linens cool against your heated skin. Their eyes followed you closely, the intensity in their gazes growing as they climbed onto the bed, each taking a position on either side of your legs.

They hesitated for just a moment, their eyes meeting once again in silent understanding before turning back to you. The air between the three of you was thick with anticipation, the intimacy of the moment stretching taut as they prepared to continue.

The room seemed to hum with the charged energy between the three of you. Giselle moved first, her confidence shining as she leaned forward, her lips parting. Warm breath ghosted over your tip before her tongue flicked out, her first touch tentative but deliberate. She began with slow, exploratory movements, her lips pressing softly as her tongue traced deliberate paths. Her hands rested firmly on your thighs, steadying herself as her rhythm built.

Ningning watched closely, her wide eyes fixed on Giselle’s movements, her breath catching as she took it all in. After a moment, she joined in, her hesitation evident in her softer, more delicate approach. Her lips brushed lightly against your member, a tentative kiss that quickly deepened as her tongue followed, her confidence growing with every touch. Her hands mirrored Giselle’s, settling on your other thigh as she sought to match her partner’s rhythm.

The contrast between them was intoxicating—Giselle’s firm, deliberate strokes complemented by Ningning’s softer, more exploratory touch. Their lips and tongues alternated, each adding their own unique intensity to the experience. Sometimes their movements overlapped, their tongues brushing against one another as they worked in tandem. The accidental contact of their lips, faint and fleeting, sent a ripple of warmth through all three of you, heightening the intimacy of the moment.

As their synchronization improved, their rhythm became seamless. Giselle’s confident strokes guided Ningning’s more delicate approach, and together they created a dynamic harmony. Their lips sometimes pressed against one another as they adjusted their positions, their shared focus blurring the lines between their individual efforts. The wet, rhythmic sounds of their tongues and lips filled the room, punctuated by their soft, muffled moans.

You placed a hand on each of their heads, your fingers threading gently through their hair, guiding them closer as they worked. The warmth of their mouths enveloped you, their tongues gliding and flicking with growing intensity. “You girls are amazing,” you murmured, your voice thick with approval. The praise spurred them on, their movements growing more deliberate as they leaned into the moment.

Giselle glanced up briefly, her gaze meeting yours with a glint of pride before she redoubled her efforts. Her lips pressed firmly, her tongue moving with deliberate precision as she explored every inch of your shaft. Each stroke was confident, her focus unwavering as she worked with practiced grace. Ningning, inspired by Giselle’s lead, grew bolder in her own movements. Her lips and tongue mirrored Giselle’s rhythm at first, but after a brief pause, she shifted her focus.

With a soft hum of approval, Ningning trailed lower, her lips brushing over the sensitive skin of your base before moving to your balls. Her tongue darted out tentatively at first, tracing slow, delicate circles that sent a subtle shiver through your body. Encouraged by the reaction, she grew bolder, her lips wrapping around one side as her tongue continued its exploration. The warmth and softness of her mouth contrasted perfectly with the firmer, more focused pressure of Giselle’s movements above.

The dynamic between them shifted into something even more enthralling. Giselle maintained her focus on the shaft, her tongue gliding over the cock with deliberate care, alternating between firm strokes and teasing flicks that left your body humming with sensation. Meanwhile, Ningning lavished attention on your balls, her lips and tongue moving in gentle, rhythmic motions. The combination of their efforts created an intoxicating duality—the firm, deliberate touch above and the soft, warm caress below.

Occasionally, their coordination brought them close enough that their lips brushed faintly against one another, a fleeting contact that only deepened the intimacy of the moment. The gentle friction of their mouths meeting, even briefly, sent a spark of warmth radiating through you, adding another layer of connection to their synchronized devotion.

Your hands remained on their heads, fingers threading gently through their hair as their efforts intensified. Giselle’s moans vibrated against your shaft, each stroke of her tongue more deliberate and precise as she sensed the growing tension in your body. Below, Ningning’s quieter, reverent whimpers continued as her mouth explored your sensitive base. Her tongue traced languid circles, her lips warm and soft as they enveloped one side and then the other, her gentle rhythm a perfect counterpoint to Giselle’s focused attention.

Their coordination was seamless, a perfect harmony of passion and purpose. Giselle’s lips tightened, her pace quickening slightly, while Ningning pressed more firmly against you, her hands gripping your thighs for balance. The wet sounds of their tongues, the heat of their mouths, and the occasional gentle friction when their lips brushed against one another created an intoxicating symphony of sensations. Each flick of their tongues, each press of their lips, sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

The intensity grew, your muscles tightening as you felt yourself approach the edge. “I’m close,” you murmured, your voice thick with the weight of the moment. The words hung in the air, a signal that spurred them both into action.

Giselle slowed her pace slightly, pulling back just enough to meet Ningning’s gaze. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and understanding as she reached down, her fingers brushing Ningning’s cheek. With a gentle but deliberate touch, she guided Ningning upward, encouraging her to take the lead.

Ningning hesitated for only a heartbeat before following Giselle’s lead, her lips parting as she moved to take your release. Giselle’s hand lingered on Ningning’s jaw for a moment, a silent gesture of encouragement, before she settled back slightly, her lips brushing against Ningning’s cheek as they passed.

As Ningning wrapped her soft lips fully around you, Giselle shifted her focus lower, her movements deliberate and exploratory. Her lips pressed against the sensitive skin at the base of your length, trailing lower, her hot breath ghosting over your skin. Slowly, she descended further, her tongue darting out to taste and tease the delicate area. Her exploration didn’t stop there—her lips found the sensitive ring of muscle below, and she paused for only a moment before pressing her tongue against it.

The first touch of Giselle’s tongue was tentative, a light flick that sent a shiver rippling up your spine. Your body tensed reflexively at the unexpected sensation, and a sudden, involuntary twitch coursed through you, pressing deeper into Ningning’s mouth. She gasped softly around your cock, her lips stretching slightly as her eyes widened in surprise. The movement only seemed to spur her on, her tongue stroking with renewed determination as she adjusted to the change.

The sensation of Giselle’s tongue was electrifying, her warm, wet strokes contrasting sharply with the cool air of the room. As she grew bolder, her tongue moved in slow, deliberate circles around your entrance, teasing the sensitive nerve endings there. Each lap was firm and exploratory, her lips sealing softly against your skin as she alternated between gentle strokes and firmer presses. Her low, muffled hums of satisfaction reverberated through you, intensifying the already overwhelming sensations.

Above, Ningning’s mouth enveloped you with unrelenting heat. Her tongue moved with purpose, circling and stroking with a rhythm that deepened the connection between her and the act itself. Her soft moans vibrated against your length, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure through your body. Her hands rested lightly on your thighs, her fingers clenching slightly with every twitch and thrust, her arousal mirrored in her every action.

The dual sensations were almost too much to bear. The wet heat of Ningning’s mouth surrounding you, paired with the rhythmic lapping of Giselle’s tongue at your most sensitive entrance, sent shockwaves of pleasure cascading through your body. Every nerve felt alive, ignited by their synchronized efforts. Your hips instinctively rocked forward, driven by the intensity of the pleasure building within you. The contrast between Ningning’s focused, deliberate rhythm and Giselle’s teasing, exploratory movements created a synergy that pushed you to the brink.

The throaty hum of Giselle’s muffled moans as she worked only heightened the experience, the vibrations reverberating through your core. At the same time, Ningning’s lips slid down your cock with an almost reverent focus, her tongue pressing firmly and swirling along the underside in perfect harmony. The combined sensations left you entirely at their mercy, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as the overwhelming pleasure built to an unbearable crescendo.

“Oh, fuck… I’m cumming!” The words tore from your throat, raw and unrestrained, as your body stiffened in response to the tidal wave of pleasure surging through you. Your hips bucked reflexively, driving deeper into Ningning’s warm, wet mouth, while Giselle’s tongue pressed harder against your sensitive entrance, intensifying every nerve-ending’s response.

Loud, guttural grunts and moans escaped you in quick succession, each sound a testament to the sheer intensity of your release. Your voice reverberated through the room, blending with the wet, rhythmic sounds of Ningning’s mouth and Giselle’s deliberate movements. The primal force of your climax left you momentarily unguarded, your vocalizations echoing with abandon.

When the release came, it was powerful and unrestrained. A moan escaped Ningning as the warmth of your climax surged into her mouth. She froze momentarily, her eyes fluttering open with a startled glint before they softened again, her lips tightening instinctively to hold the full weight of your release. The heat filled her mouth, thick and overwhelming, her body trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment. She didn’t swallow—her cheeks puffed slightly as she held it, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

Below, Giselle continued her slow, purposeful movements, her tongue still teasing and lapping as if savoring every reaction she drew from you. The lingering sensations were amplified by the combination of Ningning’s focused efforts above and Giselle’s meticulous attention below. The two of them worked in perfect harmony, each touch and movement adding to the unrelenting tide of pleasure that left you utterly undone.

As Ningning began to pull back, a small thread of your release slipped past her lips, streaking down her chin in a glistening trail. Giselle, quick to act, leaned forward with a tender tilt of Ningning’s chin. Her lips captured Ningning’s in a deep, sensual kiss, the act as intimate as it was deliberate. Their tongues met immediately, intertwining in a slow, exploratory dance as Giselle shared in the taste of you.

The kiss deepened, their movements unhurried yet passionate, each of them savoring the shared essence between them. Their lips glistened, the faint, wet sound of their tongues mingling filling the air as the room seemed to hold its breath. Giselle’s hand slid gently to the back of Ningning’s neck, holding her close as they exchanged every drop of your release, the warmth and saltiness a tangible reminder of their connection to you and to each other.

When they finally parted, a faint string of saliva and release still connected their lips, breaking only when they exchanged a final, gentle flick of their tongues. Their eyes met, a mixture of satisfaction and unspoken understanding passing between them. A subtle flush deepened their cheeks, and with a silent agreement, they each tilted their heads back slightly and swallowed half, the deliberate action slow and sensual.

The soft sound of their throats working in unison punctuated the quiet of the room, a shared act that carried both reverence and intimacy. When they turned their attention back to you, their gazes held a newfound confidence, their breaths uneven but steady as they smiled—content and radiant, their connection with you and with each other now etched into the memory of this profound moment. Their glistening lips, flushed skin, and languid postures spoke volumes, a testament to the depth of the shared experience and the bond it had forged between the three of you.

As the moment of stillness settled, Giselle’s gaze lingered on you, a spark of playful determination flickering in her eyes. Without breaking the charged silence, she moved with deliberate grace, shifting her position. Rising to her knees, she swung a leg over your chest, her movements fluid and confident, until she was poised above your face. The intoxicating scent of her arousal filled your senses as she slowly lowered herself toward you.

Simultaneously, Ningning moved with equal intent, positioning herself at your hips. Her hands guided your cock into place with a mix of precision and eagerness, the warmth of her touch electrifying. As she slid you inside her, a low, throaty moan escaped her lips, her head tilting back as her body adjusted to the fullness. The tight, wet heat of her walls enveloped you completely, her hips rocking experimentally as she found her rhythm.

Your mouth met Giselle’s waiting heat with deliberate intensity, your tongue darting out to taste her. She gasped softly, her thighs trembling as she pressed herself against you, her hands gripping the headboard for balance. Each flick of your tongue sent ripples of pleasure through her, her moans cascading down to mingle with the sounds of Ningning’s gasps and the rhythmic slap of skin on skin as she rode you. Giselle’s movements grew bolder, her hips grinding against your mouth, the wetness of her arousal coating your lips and tongue as you worked to bring her higher.

Ningning, meanwhile, moved with increasing fervor, her hips undulating as she took your cock deeper with each thrust. The sensation of fullness sent shivers up her spine, her moans growing louder as she adjusted to the rhythm of your movements. Her hands rested on your chest for support, her nails digging lightly into your skin as the sensation built within her.

The room was alive with the sounds of pleasure—Giselle’s breathy cries as your tongue found her most sensitive spots, Ningning’s desperate moans as she rode you, and the wet, rhythmic sounds of their shared arousal. The heat between the three of you was palpable, an all-encompassing intimacy that left no part of the moment untouched.

Their gazes met across the expanse of your body, each watching the other with unrestrained arousal. Giselle’s lips parted, her flushed cheeks deepening as she locked eyes with Ningning, who mirrored her expression with wide-eyed awe. The sight of each other’s pleasure only seemed to spur them on, their moans becoming more urgent, their movements more synchronized.

Giselle’s hips pressed harder against your face, her thighs quivering as she chased her climax. “Oh… yes,” she murmured breathlessly, her voice trembling as your tongue continued its relentless work. Above you, her chest heaved, her hands gripping the headboard tighter as her body began to tremble.

Below, Ningning’s rhythm grew erratic, her movements desperate as she leaned forward, her forehead brushing lightly against Giselle’s arm as her own release neared. The connection between them—the shared sounds, the exchanged glances, the mirrored vulnerability—heightened the intensity for all three of you.

Your hips met Ningning’s movements with deliberate thrusts, driving her wild with each upward motion. Simultaneously, your tongue flicked and pressed against Giselle’s most sensitive spots, her cries growing louder as she tilted her head back, completely lost in the moment. The three of you moved in perfect sync, an unspoken harmony that left the room bathed in the raw, unfiltered sound of shared passion.

Giselle’s cries grew louder, her hips grinding more insistently against your mouth as her body quivered. Each flick of your tongue sent electric shivers coursing through her, her arousal pooling and dripping down onto your lips and chin. Above, her thighs trembled with the strain of holding herself upright, her fingers gripping the headboard so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “Oh—yes! Just like that!” she gasped, her voice breaking as she teetered on the edge.

Ningning was lost in her own spiral of pleasure, her hips rolling in erratic, desperate movements as she took your cock deeper with every thrust. The wet, rhythmic slap of your bodies echoed through the room, mingling with her breathy moans. Her hands pressed into your chest, her nails dragging lightly against your skin as she leaned forward, her forehead brushing against Giselle’s arm. Her voice was shaky but insistent, punctuated by gasps. “I can’t… I’m so close!” she whimpered, her slick heat clenching tightly around you.

As your tongue worked relentlessly against Giselle, your hands moved instinctively, your body attuned to their needs. Blindly, one hand slid down Ningning’s trembling body, your fingertips brushing against the swollen nub at her center. The instant contact made her gasp sharply, her hips bucking as your fingers began to circle her clit with deliberate pressure. The soft, slick heat beneath your hand pulsed with need, and her cries grew louder as the added stimulation pushed her closer to the brink.

Simultaneously, your other hand snaked upward, your fingers finding Giselle’s own sensitive nub above you. Your touch was firm but controlled, matching the rhythm of your tongue as it flicked and pressed against her. Her thighs trembled violently as her moans turned into incoherent cries, her body reacting to the dual assault of your mouth and fingers. “Oh my God—yes!” she cried out, her voice trembling with desperation as her pleasure soared.

The connection between them heightened the intensity, their gazes locking in an unspoken challenge as they each fought to hold on, to chase their climaxes together. Giselle’s flushed face was streaked with sweat, her hair sticking to her temples as she rocked against your mouth. Ningning, her lips parted and eyes heavy-lidded, couldn’t stop herself from stealing glances at Giselle, the sight of her friend’s pleasure fueling her own.

Your fingers moved in perfect sync with your other actions—pressing, circling, and teasing their most sensitive spots with unwavering precision. The added stimulation sent their bodies into overdrive, the tension in the room reaching a fever pitch. Ningning’s thighs quivered uncontrollably, her moans turning into frantic cries, while Giselle’s grip on the headboard tightened further as her hips bucked wildly against your face.

“Unnie—look at me,” Ningning gasped, her voice breaking with urgency. Giselle’s head tilted downward, her glazed eyes meeting Ningning’s as they shared a moment of raw connection. Seeing the desperation mirrored in each other’s faces was the final push they needed.

Giselle’s climax struck first, her body jerking violently as she let out a scream that echoed through the room. Her thighs clamped around your head as her hips bucked, her release flooding over your tongue in warm, powerful surges. She gasped and moaned, the cries spilling out of her uncontrollably as she gave in to the overwhelming pleasure.

Moments later, Ningning followed. Her walls clenched around you, tight and insistent, as her climax erupted. Her body convulsed, her moans turning into desperate, breathless cries. “Oh, God—yes, yes!” she screamed, her hips jerking wildly as her release poured over you. The warmth and tightness of her pulsating core became the tipping point, the overwhelming pleasure building to an uncontrollable crescendo.

Your hips bucked instinctively, your movements deep and deliberate as the pressure within you surged forward. With a guttural moan, your release came, spilling deep inside Ningning as her walls fluttered and pulsed around you, her body seeming to draw every last drop from you. The sensation sent waves of electricity through your body, your climax prolonged by the sheer intensity of the moment.

The force of your release triggered a reflexive sound, a deep, raw moan that reverberated through the room. Giselle, still trembling in the aftershocks of her climax, felt the vibrations through her connection to you. The sound seemed to ripple through her, igniting an unexpected wave of pleasure that caused her to cry out once more, her body arching as an aftershock tore through her already sensitive nerves.

Ningning gasped at the sensation of your warmth inside her as her trembling walls milked you for every drop, her body convulsing as her cries turned into soft whimpers., her head tilting back as her hips rocked involuntarily, drawing out every ounce of the shared moment. Her breathing was ragged, her body trembling as her climax merged seamlessly with yours, leaving her utterly spent.

And then, like a pleasurable déjà vu, their bodies, already trembling from the force of their orgasms, arched simultaneously as a second wave overtook them. Streams of warm, clear liquid erupted from their cores, their squirting an undeniable affirmation that the first time wasn’t a fluke. Giselle’s release showered over your face, mingling with the wetness already there, while Ningning’s sprayed against your hips and thighs, the force splashing onto Giselle’s legs as well.

The air hung heavy with the scent of arousal and sweat, the room drenched in the evidence of your shared passion. Giselle finally collapsed forward, her body spent as she leaned heavily against the headboard, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Ningning followed suit, sinking against your chest, her trembling hands resting lightly on your shoulders.

The three of you remained entwined, the quiet punctuated only by the sound of your slowing breaths. Their bodies were slick with sweat, their flushed faces radiant as they exchanged a tired but satisfied smile. It wasn’t just the act itself but the undeniable bond you had forged that left an indelible mark on all three of you.

As the final tremors subsided and the intensity of the moment gave way to stillness, Giselle was the first to move. Her breathing still labored, she carefully shifted off your face, her legs unsteady but strong enough to carry her. Her flushed skin glistened in the warm light, her chest rising and falling as she ran a hand through her damp hair, trying to steady herself. A satisfied smile played on her lips, but her movements were measured, deliberate—a sharp contrast to the state of her companion.

Ningning, however, was visibly more affected. Her body quivered as she slowly lifted herself from your hips, her thighs trembling uncontrollably with every movement. She sank onto the bed beside you, dazed and breathless, her flushed cheeks and glassy eyes a testament to the intensity she had endured. Her hands trembled as she tried to adjust her posture, her body too overwhelmed to fully cooperate.

Giselle noticed immediately, her smile softening as she leaned closer to Ningning, her hand reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from her friend’s face. “Hey, you okay?” Giselle murmured, her tone gentle but filled with concern. She wrapped an arm around Ningning’s shoulders, pulling her close in an attempt to soothe her. Ningning nodded faintly, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, she rested her head against Giselle’s shoulder, her body still trembling slightly as she leaned into the comfort.

You moved with quiet care, sitting up and reaching out to rest a hand on each of them. Your voice was low and calming as you addressed them both. “You did beautifully,” you said softly, your hands offering a grounding presence. “You’re both incredible.”

Giselle gave a small, grateful smile, her hand rubbing soothing circles against Ningning’s back as she glanced at you. “Thank you,” she said, her voice steady despite the lingering exhaustion. “I don’t think we’ll ever forget this.”

Ningning’s eyes fluttered open, and after a moment, she echoed Giselle’s words with a faint, breathy whisper. “Thank you.” Her voice was trembling, but there was no mistaking the sincerity behind it. Her gaze drifted to you, still dazed but filled with gratitude.

As the minutes passed, the remnants of their aftershocks began to fade, leaving them both calmer and more composed. They moved slowly, helping each other sit upright as they prepared to dress. Their movements were tender and unhurried, an unspoken bond evident in the way Giselle steadied Ningning, offering a guiding hand whenever her balance wavered.

Once they were dressed, they turned to you one last time. Giselle, still steady and confident, spoke first. “Thank you again—for everything. This was… more than we could have imagined.” Her expression was filled with warmth, and she nodded firmly, as if solidifying the memory.

Ningning, though still leaning slightly against Giselle for support, managed a soft smile. Her nod came slower, her dazed eyes meeting yours briefly before her gaze drifted downward, her exhaustion still evident. “Thank you,” she repeated, her voice quiet but filled with sincerity.

You returned their smiles, your tone professional but warm. “You were both wonderful to work with. I hope you’ll consider coming back in the future. It’s been an absolute pleasure guiding you through this experience.”

Giselle nodded eagerly, her smile widening. “Absolutely,” she said, her enthusiasm clear. Ningning followed with a slower, smaller nod, her lingering haze making her response quieter but no less heartfelt.

You glanced toward the facilities with a small apologetic shrug. “Unfortunately, the shower is unavailable tonight. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

Giselle waved the comment off with a laugh, her arm tightening around Ningning’s waist as they leaned into each other. “It’s okay,” she said lightly. “I think we’re good.”

Ningning hummed softly in agreement, her head resting against Giselle’s shoulder as they made their way toward the exit. Their steps were slow, their bodies leaning heavily on one another for support, but there was no mistaking the contentment in their shared posture. As they passed through the doorway, arm in arm, their laughter and whispered words faded into the distance, leaving behind an air of fulfilled intimacy and a bond that would linger long after the night ended.

The cool night air embraced them as they stepped outside, a stark contrast to the heat and intensity of the room they had just left. The crisp breeze kissed their flushed skin, sending a shiver through their bodies that brought a hint of grounding. Yet, despite the coolness of the air, the warmth of what had just transpired lingered, leaving their minds spinning.

Ningning clung to Giselle’s arm as they walked, her steps unsteady and her legs trembling beneath her. Her face was still flushed, her breath uneven, and her eyes dazed as if she were trying to process what had happened. Giselle, steadier but no less affected, kept an arm wrapped securely around Ningning’s waist, her own body swaying slightly with each step as they leaned on one another for support.

“I…” Ningning’s voice came out soft and trembling, almost as if she were speaking to herself. “I can’t believe we actually… squirted.” She blinked slowly, her wide eyes darting to Giselle, her words trailing off into the cool night air. “Not just once—but twice.” Her cheeks flushed even deeper as she said it, the disbelief thick in her tone. “For real. That actually happened.”

Giselle let out a breathy laugh, her lips curving into a dreamy smile. “Me neither,” she admitted, shaking her head as if to clear it. Her voice softened, her gaze distant as her words slowed. “That… that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had. Hands down.” She glanced at Ningning, her smile widening as a faint blush crept up her cheeks. “I don’t even know how to describe it—it was just… perfect.”

Ningning nodded, though her movements were sluggish, her body still trembling faintly. “Same,” she whispered, her voice hurried but tinged with awe. “I didn’t even know my body could… do that.” She let out a shaky breath, her fingers gripping Giselle’s sleeve for balance. 

They both laughed, the sound light and filled with a mixture of disbelief and wonder. Giselle tightened her arm around Ningning, steadying her as their legs wobbled slightly beneath them. The intimacy of what they had shared was palpable, creating a bond that felt unshakable, as if the experience had fused something deeper between them. Words felt almost unnecessary; the shared memory spoke volumes.

As they strolled down the dimly lit street, their earlier laughter began to fade, replaced by a contemplative silence. The golden glow of the streetlights bathed the path ahead, casting long, swaying shadows that moved in rhythm with their steps. Giselle crossed her arms tightly against her chest, bracing herself against the crisp night air seeping through her clothes. Despite the chill, her expression remained soft, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. Beside her, Ningning adjusted her jacket with slow, fumbling hands, her flushed cheeks and unfocused gaze revealing her preoccupation. Flashes of the evening seemed to replay behind her eyes, each memory drawing her further into her own quiet reflection.

When they reached the corner of their block, their synchronized footsteps faltered. They both froze, their gazes snapping to the opposite side of the street. Emerging from the shadows under the muted glow of the next streetlight were two familiar figures: Karina and Yunjin.

Instinctively, Giselle and Ningning moved closer to the edge of the sidewalk, their eyes locked onto the pair. Karina and Yunjin’s presence felt almost surreal. The two moved in unison, their steps light and easy, their laughter floating softly into the quiet night. Yunjin leaned into Karina’s side, her arm looped loosely around her, her expression radiating a confident ease. Karina’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile as Yunjin whispered something that made her chuckle softly, their connection palpable even from a distance.

The direction of their path, however, was unmistakable. They were headed toward the same discreet entrance Giselle and Ningning had only just left. The heavy door loomed in the distance, barely noticeable to anyone unfamiliar, yet its significance was impossible to ignore.

Frozen in place, Giselle and Ningning exchanged a quick, wide-eyed glance, their unspoken thoughts mirrored in each other’s faces. They stood in silence, their breathing shallow, as Karina and Yunjin slipped through the door. The soft click of it closing behind them echoed in the stillness, as though punctuating a realization neither of them wanted to put into words.

No words were necessary. In that shared glance between them, everything was understood: the disbelief, the reluctant acceptance, and the strange comfort of knowing their personal experience wasn’t as unique as they had thought. Whatever had drawn them there clearly extended beyond their own curiosity—a thread of something universal, intimate, and quietly thrilling.

Without speaking, they turned and resumed their walk, their steps slower now, their pace deliberate as the surreal encounter lingered between them. The air seemed heavier, their thoughts weaving unspoken questions and answers into the night.

The faint sound of their laughter returned after a while, but it was softer, tinged with awe and a touch of disbelief. They moved in step with each other, letting the moment settle as they headed home, the night leaving its quiet mark on their still-racing minds.

-----

When they arrived back at the apartment, the faint glow from the living room spilled into the hallway. Giselle hesitated at the door, her fingers trembling slightly as she unlocked it. Ningning shifted beside her, her legs wobbly and her cheeks still flushed, mirroring Giselle’s expression. They exchanged a glance—nervous, uncertain, and still overwhelmed—before stepping inside.

Minjeong was lounging on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her and a tub of ice cream balanced on one knee. At the sound of the door, she looked up casually, her expression neutral for a moment before a slow, knowing smile crept across her face. She set the ice cream aside, tilting her head as her gaze swept over Giselle and Ningning.

Their clothes were rumpled, unevenly tucked, and their hair was a mess, clinging to their damp foreheads. A faint sheen of sweat still glimmered on their flushed skin, paired with the heavy, unmistakable scent of musk and arousal clinging to them. It was all the confirmation Minjeong needed.

“Well, well,” she said, leaning back into the couch and crossing her arms. “Look who’s back.”

Giselle froze, her eyes darting anywhere but at Minjeong’s smug expression as she clumsily shrugged off her jacket. Ningning fidgeted beside her, wringing the hem of her shirt with trembling hands, her blush deepening by the second. The air between them felt heavy, suffused with the weight of shared secrets.

Minjeong’s smirk widened, her tone playful but dripping with amusement. “So,” she began, letting the word hang tantalizingly in the air, “do you believe me now?”

The question hit like a challenge, undeniable and loaded. Ningning blinked rapidly, her flush spreading all the way to her ears as she stammered, “I… uh… what?” Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

Minjeong raised her eyebrows, clearly savoring every second of their discomfort. “The squirting thing,” she said with a casual shrug. “Do you believe me now, or should I assume you two just fell into a puddle on the way home?”

Giselle groaned loudly, slapping her hands over her face. “Oh my God,” she muttered through her fingers. “We’re not doing this.”

“Oh, but we are,” Minjeong replied smoothly, sitting up straighter as she gestured at them. “Look at yourselves. I’m pretty sure half the apartment can smell exactly where you’ve been.” She waved a hand in front of her nose with mock drama. “Seriously, go take a shower before you stink up the place.”

Ningning let out a breathy, nervous laugh, rubbing the back of her neck as if she could physically brush off the embarrassment. “Fine, okay,” she admitted, her voice tinged with defeat. “You were right.”

Minjeong leaned back, her smug expression only growing. “Damn, I love being right.” She grabbed her spoon again, pointing it between them for emphasis. “And for the record, you two look way worse than I ever did. Way worse.”

Giselle opened her mouth, no doubt to protest, but one glance at Ningning’s equally disheveled state made her snap it shut with a resigned groan. “Okay, fine,” she muttered. “We get it.”

“So?” Minjeong continued, her voice light but probing. She looked back and forth between them, her amusement palpable.

Giselle and Ningning exchanged a look, their faces still burning from the intensity of Minjeong’s scrutiny. Finally, Giselle sighed heavily, her tone a mix of exasperation and reluctant awe. “It was… insane.”

“Amazing,” Ningning added softly, her voice almost reverent. “But absolutely insane.”

Minjeong chuckled, digging her spoon into the ice cream as she watched them shuffle awkwardly toward the hallway. “Thought so,” she said, her voice laced with amusement. “Now go before you stink up the place.”

Giselle rolled her eyes, dragging Ningning along. “We’re going,” she grumbled over her shoulder. “And stop being so smug.”

The bathroom door clicked shut, and Minjeong leaned back against the couch, her smirk softening into a faint grin. “Told them,” she muttered to herself, taking another bite of ice cream as her eyes glinted with satisfaction.

-----

After their showers, Giselle and Ningning returned to the living room, collapsing onto the couch beside Minjeong. The TV murmured softly in the background as they all sat in comfortable silence, Giselle and Ningning still recovering from their experience. Minjeong barely glanced up from her mug of tea that she had replaced the ice-cream with, her smirk faint but ever-present.

A couple hours passed quietly, the three of them lounging in the warm, cozy space, the tension of the evening fading into the background.

Then the front door creaked open.

They all turned to look. Karina stepped inside, and the sight of her left them speechless. She looked utterly ravaged, as though every ounce of energy had been drained from her in the most unrestrained way. Her heels dangled limply from one hand, the straps swinging with her unsteady steps as her bare feet padded softly on the floor. Her mascara was streaked down her flushed cheeks, evidence of tears shed not from pain but from overwhelming sensation. Her lips were swollen, parted as she panted softly, her chest rising and falling in deep, labored breaths that made her shirt cling to her damp skin.

Her shirt was disheveled, one sleeve slipping halfway off her shoulder and exposing the curve of her flushed skin. The fabric bunched awkwardly around her midsection, twisted as though it had been yanked and tugged in the heat of the moment. The absence of a bra was glaringly obvious; her hardened nipples pressed against the thin material, betraying her sensitivity and the cool air that kissed her overheated body.

Her neck was scattered with marks—dark, blooming hickeys and faint, precise bites painting a vivid, unspoken story from just beneath her jawline to the delicate curve of her collarbone. Among them, faint but undeniable, was the ghostly imprint of a hand—its shape outlined in a faint redness across her throat, a testament to moments of raw, restrained intensity. The marks deepened in color toward her shoulders, a testament to the passion and force of the encounter. Her hair was a wild mess, tousled and damp with sweat, clinging in strands to her forehead and neck. A few stray locks stuck to her temple, framing her flushed face like a halo gone astray.

Her skirt, barely hanging on, was wrinkled and skewed, riding up on one side to reveal the faint imprint of fingers along her thighs where she'd been gripped firmly. The fabric clung to her hips as though it, too, had been caught in the chaos. A thin sheen of sweat coated her glistening skin, catching the light and accentuating the sharp curve of her hip bones and the subtle tremble of her legs as she took another step.

Karina’s lips twitched into a lazy, self-satisfied smile as she leaned lightly against the doorframe. Her eyes, half-lidded and glossy, carried the unmistakable glow of someone thoroughly and unapologetically satisfied. Despite her thoroughly wrecked appearance, she exuded confidence, her posture unbothered even as her body showed every sign of having been pushed to its absolute limit.

Minjeong, still leaning comfortably against the couch cushions, raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening as she took in the sight. “You good?”

Karina let out a breathy laugh, running a hand through her tangled hair, her voice husky and dripping with contentment. “Never better,” she replied, not even trying to straighten her clothes or clean herself up.

Karina’s lazy smile widened as her gaze flicked over to Giselle and Ningning, both of whom froze under her gaze. Tilting her head slightly, she drawled, “What happened to just experiencing, huh? All I could taste was the two of you the entire time I was with him.”

Giselle’s mouth opened, but only a strangled sound escaped. “I-I… we… it wasn’t—” Her hands flailed slightly before she dropped her head into her hands, groaning in embarrassment.

Ningning wasn’t any better, her face turning an impossibly deeper shade of red as she stammered, “It’s not… we didn’t mean to—ah, oh my God.”

Minjeong, sitting cross-legged on the couch, looked back and forth between them, her brow furrowing. “Wait… what? Taste what? What’s going on?”

Giselle and Ningning didn’t answer, too busy sinking into the couch cushions, their faces buried in their hands as they tried to suppress their embarrassment. Karina, clearly pleased with the chaos she’d left behind, simply chuckled and disappeared down the hallway, her door clicking shut behind her.

Minjeong blinked at the scene, utterly baffled. “Am I missing something?”

No one answered. The silence, filled with mortified tension, hung in the air as Ningning and Giselle continued to avoid Minjeong’s questioning gaze, their faces buried in their hands.

Minjeong raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning as realization began to dawn. “You know, I’d ask again, but I think I already have my answer,” she teased, her voice laced with amusement.

Ningning stammered, “I-It’s not like that!” but her words dissolved into incoherent mumbling as she slumped further into the couch. Beside her, Giselle shook her head rapidly, muttering something incomprehensible, her face still hidden in her hands.

Minjeong chuckled, leaning back with a satisfied grin as she grabbed her tea. “Right. Not like that. Sure. Whatever you say.”

Her casual tone only seemed to make things worse. Ningning shot Giselle a desperate look, silently begging her to do something, but Giselle merely groaned louder, sinking even deeper into the cushions as if trying to vanish.

The apartment settled into uneasy quiet, the faint sound of the TV providing a backdrop to the heavy tension. Minjeong took a sip of her tea, her expression smug as she glanced at the other two. The warmth in the room was palpable—tinged with shared embarrassment, reluctant amusement, and an unspoken agreement that this would not come up again.

At least, not anytime soon.

[hazelira]

baby assistant at dada’s work (#2 of 2024)

The next morning, Jay found himself adjusting the tiny straps of your daughter’s pastel pink backpack while she stood on tiptoes, trying to peek at the shoes he was tying for her. Her little face lit up with excitement as she realized what the day had in store.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” you teased from the doorway, watching as Jay meticulously ensured every strap, buckle, and sock was perfectly in place.

He glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. “She’ll be the best assistant this office has ever seen,” he replied confidently. “Right, princess?”

Your daughter beamed, throwing her arms up. “Yes! I help Dada!” she cheered, her enthusiasm infectious.

He chuckled, lifting her into his arms. “Let’s go, then. Don’t let me down, assistant.”

When they arrived at the office, all eyes turned to the sight of the stoic and intimidating Jay walking in with his toddler perched on his hip. Her small hands clung to his shirt, and her curious eyes darted around the sleek, professional environment.

The first stop was the meeting room. Jay set her down on one of the oversized chairs, the leather swallowing her tiny frame. She kicked her feet, clearly enjoying her new throne.

“Dada, what dis?” she asked, pointing at the rows of binders and papers on the table.

“That’s work,” Jay replied, kneeling beside her. “Important stuff. But don’t worry—you don’t have to do any of it. You sit here and look cute.”

She giggled, covering her mouth with her little hands. “I can do dat!” she declared proudly.

The meeting began, and seeing Jay’s daughter in the room instantly softened the tense atmosphere. She sat quietly at first, content with the colouring book he’d brought for her. But halfway through the presentation, she got curious.

“Dada,” she whispered loudly, tugging on his sleeve. “Why dat man talk so much?”

The room went still, a few muffled chuckles escaping from Jay’s usually composed team. Jay glanced down at her, his lips twitching in an effort not to smile. “He’s explaining his work, sweetheart. It’s important.”

She tilted her head, clearly unconvinced. “But… too much words,” she muttered, causing another ripple of quiet laughter.

Jay smoothed a hand over her messy hair, his tone calm and indulgent. “That’s how work is sometimes. Lots of words.”

She scrunched her nose but nodded, returning to her colouring with a serious expression. The rest of the meeting continued with a much lighter atmosphere, the team occasionally glancing at the little girl who had somehow managed to charm their intimidating boss.

Later, at Jay’s, she sat on his desk while he reviewed some documents. She babbled happily about her favourite toys and how she wanted ice cream after work, her tiny feet swinging as she spoke. He nodded along, occasionally adding a “Really?” or “Wow!” as if her stories were the most important updates of his day.

“Dada,” she said suddenly, looking at him wide-eyed. “Do you work every day?”

He looked up from his papers, her question catching him off guard. “I do. Why?”

She frowned her little brow furrowing. “Dat’s too much, Dada. You need pway time.”

He couldn’t help but laugh softly, setting his pen down. “You’re right, princess. I’ll make sure to take more playtime.”

“Pinky pwomise?” she asked, holding up her tiny pinky.

He smiled, hooking his pinky around hers. “Pinky promise.”

By the end of the day, Jay walked into the lobby with his daughter tucked under his arm, her head resting against his shoulder. She was exhausted but happy, her small hands clutching the colouring book filled with her masterpieces.

When you met them at the door, she lifted her head slightly, her sleepy voice bubbling with excitement. “Mama! I helped Dada at work!”

You smiled, brushing her messy hair back. “You did? I bet you were the best assistant ever.”

“She was,” Jay said softly, looking down at her with a warmth in his eyes that only grew when he saw the proud smile on her sleepy face. “The very best.”