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authorhjk1 · 2 months

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Dea Romana

(Minatozaki Sana X Male Reader)

(Author's note:

Hi everyone! Thank you for patiently waiting for me! I'm done with writing my exams now, so I will be able to write more again until Juli. Since I like history a lot, the beginning got a bit longer than originally planned, but I hope you will be able to enjoy it nonetheless. I tried to make everything as historically accurate as possible, but please don't expect everything to be true.

Stay healthy! I will do my best to upload the next piece as soon as possible!)

Every muscle feels like it's burning. Your legs and arms feel heavy. Your feet barely lift off the uneven ground with every step you take.

Dried blood stains your face. Your armour doesn't look much better. The shield you are holding, has a big dent in it. The javelin in your right hand feels like it's made out of steel. The chainmail on your chest weighs heavier than usual.

"Marius!"

Your second in command shouts at you from the back.

"The women need a break!"

You sigh in annoyance. It's bad enough that you almost got your whole century killed. Now you have to delay your reunion with the rest of the legion because of those Gaul captives.

"We will take a short break."

You announce to your eighty legionaries and the twenty rebels you captured.

Spotting a small stream near by, you walk closer, while most of the soldiers sit on the ground, some are standing guard.

Taking off your helmet, you start to wash your face. The dried blood sticks to your skin. After some effort, you are just a little bit cleaner.

Another sigh leaves your lips as you kneel in place. In front of the small stream, your century in the back, looking into the deep forest.

You have lived a hard life. You were not born a Roman. Not born a free man. But you took your life into your own hands, instead of hoping for the mercy of the gods. Because gods don't have mercy. Only you can change your own destiny.

"Let's keep marching. We are almost there."

You go back to the front of the century, your men following your orders. Most of the Gaul rebels you captured are women and children. Their husbands and fathers killed by your swords and javelins.

Orders are orders. To kill or to be killed. These are the only two principles you live by. At least most of the time.

"Have you heard yet?"

Quintus asks from behind you, catching your attention. You silently wave for him to walk next to you. It's not necessarily the gossip you're interested in, but you did learn that it's important to know what is going on inside your century and the legion itself.

"Aelius fucked up some of his soldiers."

You raise your eyebrow while you keep walking. Nothing new there. Aelius is a spoiled son of a whore. He only became centurion in the tenth, because of his family's status. And he is usually unnecessarily brutal with his century.

"Reason?"

"They ate some of the extra rations we all got a week ago. Aelius said that they are meant for centurions only. Not for legionaries."

You have to stop yourself from spitting onto the muddy path you are walking on.

Aelius paints the perfect picture of the Roman nobility. Rich assholes. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"Did he kill someone again?"

Quintus shakes his head.

"But I heard that the premus pilus had a talk with him."

You let out a dry chuckle.

"All the centurions of the first cohort are the same. Do you really think he got in trouble?"

"No. But I thought you would be interested. It's not like you have very good connections with-"

"Shut it, fool."

It's not really a secret in the tenth legion that you and Aelius are bitter rivals. The two of you are the completely opposite of one another. A rich brat, who is the centurion of the third century in the first cohort. And you. The former slave, who climbed the ranks to be the centurion of the first century in the second cohort.

There aren't many ranks that separate the two of you. But making the jump into the first cohort as a former slave is nearly impossible.

Your century walks in almost complete silence for the next couple of hours. Despite being one of the most feared soldiers in the legion, you can't help but be cautious. In case there are more rebels lurking in the shadows of the large trees.

"Marius!"

The scout you send out to check the path ahead is jogging in your direction.

"We take another short break."

A light murmur of gratitude echoes through the ranks.

You wait for the young man, barely older than a boy, to reach the spot where you are standing.

"Someone seems to be traveling towards the camp. Our paths are going to cross, once we reach the small clearing ahead."

"Do you know who it is?"

"It looked like a person from the nobility. There was a carriage. And a couple of men with spears. Probably guards."

"We can't be too cautious. Titus!"

You shout for your second in command to walk to the front.

"Take your contubernia and make fast pace. I want to make sure that everything is going according to regulations."

"Yes, Marius."

The rest of the century starts marching at normal pace again, while the eight men rush ahead. The scout leading them towards the small crossroads.

"You know what's going on?"

You shake your head at Quintus' question.

"Might be a politician from Rome. Or a nobleman's wife."

"You know that that's against the law."

Of course everyone knows. It's illegal for a legionary to be married. And yet, some centurions always think that they are above the rest of the legion, when it comes to this kind of rules.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

An angry shout echoes around the forest, just as you and your men reach the small clearing.

The scout was right. A carriage, pulled by two grays, accompanied by a handful of men, armed with spears, and some servants.

An older woman is standing in front of the carriage's door, screaming at the poor Titus. Glancing over his shoulder, your optio rolls his eyes.

"Woman. Don't scream at a Roman legionary."

You make your presence known as you keep walking towards the middle of the clearing.

The servant, probably around forty to fifty years of age, looks at you with anger in her eyes.

"Do you even know, whom you are holding up?!"

"No."

You state bluntly, finally standing in front of her. Behind you, you can hear your men take their positions. Not to threaten the travelers, but to guard the area.

"Well, she is one of the most prestigious women in all of Rome."

"And what is a woman like her doing so far away from the city?"

"Visiting her husband."

You click your tongue. As far as you know, none of the centurions in the first cohort have wives. Which means, she must be the woman of a centurion, who ranks lower than you.

A smirk, which you can't suppress, plays around your lips. How are you able to enjoy a higher position than a noble in this republic?

You walk off without another word, leaving Titus in charge. There is no need to bother with this stuff. Some of the Gaul rebels fell a little behind earlier. You have to check on them. In case they are sick or badly injured.

"Her name?"

You hear Titus ask, before the woman let's out an exaggerated gasp.

"Sana Lucii."

You groan in annoyance. By Jupiter. Is this really his wife? Lucius Aelius? Just when you thought, you couldn't hate that man even more.

You despise men, who don't follow the law and rules of the republic and the legion. Of course, sometimes you can define them a little different for your own gains, but this is just breaking them.

Trying to stay calm, your fingers tap the pommel of your gladius. You don't hear a response from Titus. He must know which Lucius the old woman ment.

"Marius?"

He finally makes you turn around.

You walk back up towards the carriage, just as the door opens.

"By Bellona! What is taking so long!"

You have to say, you are amused by the woman's expression. You didn't expect her to call out for the goddess of war.

"Just doing our duty, lady."

Titus answers politely, although you know how hard it is for him to not lash out. He hates Aelius just as much as the next soldier. Especially, since he is your optio.

You are stunned, once the woman actually shows herself. Her beautiful face is slightly twisted with annoyance. Although, you would be sure that she could look like Venus herself, when she smiles.

She is wearing a turquoise stola, which also covers her brown hair. The thin material enables you to have a look at her white tunic underneath. Her skin looks flawless and pure. A golden necklace adorns her neck and collarbone. It's probably worth more than a whole year of your salary.

An image of a goddess.

"I hope we can speed up this process. I'm supposed to be by my husband's side."

Lucky bastard.

"Please. Speak respectfully with my legionaries."

Her gaze meets yours. You can feel your heart skipping a beat. Not one woman has looked as pretty as she does. Not one.

"Who are you to lecture me on speaking?"

"Salve."

Your fist meats the blood stained chainmail on your chest.

Maybe, if you behave respectfully, so does she. The army is for her protection after all.

"My name is Marius. And-"

"What's your first name, centurion?"

A cute smile suddenly plays around her lips. Maybe this will get her out of here faster.

"Gaius."

"I see, Gaius. I'm sure you have more important things to do than stop me from traveling further? My husband must be waiting for me."

If she didn't know better, Sana could swear that she caught a glint of hate in your eyes.

"This is protocol. We have to check on everyone, who approaches the camp."

"I'm a noble woman. Can't you make an exception for me?'

You don't fall for her sweet smile. You are on duty. Not even Venus herself could distract you. Well, maybe a little bit.

"Your choice. Here, or at the gate in front of even more legionaries. Like everyone else."

That last part makes her glare at you. You won this round.

Not waiting for a response, you gesture for your men to search the woman's belongings. Your Imperial legate has more than enough enemies in Rome to be cautious of. And you don't want him to end up dead inside his own camp. Even if she is allegedly Aelius' wife.

Quintus nods in your direction after going through her belongings, signaling that everything is alright.

"We will accompany you on your way to the camp. We are on our way back, anyway."

You turn around without looking at Sana again. A signal for your men to get into formation.

It feels like she stares at your back for a second longer, before you hear the door close behind you. You don't like the Roman nobility. At all. There is only one man you are willing to follow.

After two more hours of marching, your century and the noblewoman's entourage finally reach the camp's gate.

"The village, where the senior officers are staying, is right behind the camp. You can't miss it."

The older woman, who screamed at Titus earlier, still looks at you as if she is holding a grudge.

"I hope you enjoy your stay in these wonderful lands, lady."

You raise your voice a little, making sure that Sana can hear you. It drips with sarcasm and you can hear Quintus chuckle behind you.

"Vale."

With a dismissive wave of your hand, you walk past the old servant. Her shock at your rudeness visible on her face.

Already making your way past the guards, you can't hear Sana's scoff.

Who are you to talk to her like that? If she is gonna tell her husband about this, you are going to be in trouble for sure.

Sana will never be able to get used to this. She was able to decide that, immediately after she stepped out of her carriage. It took her only a couple of steps to enter the small house her husband is living in right now. But that was enough for her already.

Nothing here looks like Rome. Even the legionaries look out of place. And their shouts and the sounds of shields and stuff isn't what she hears when she is home. Sana is already missing the comfortable house with the atrium. She likes to bathe in the sun throughout the day, while sipping on a really good wine.

"You're late."

Lucius doesn't even look up from his small table as he hears his wife coming in.

"That's how you great me after a year?"

"You know how I value punctuality."

"Out of my hands. Some centurion insisted on searching my luggage. He was really rude."

Now Lucius is looking at her. Sana knows that he can't stand someone disrespecting him. And when she gets disrespected, it goes deeper. He is affected as well.

"Who?"

She can see his eyes becoming a little darker. He bites his lip, maybe trying to prevent himself from shouting.

"His name is Garius Marius. I think?"

"That son of a whore. How does a slave dare to stop you?"

Now, Sana feels shame run down her spine. If she knew that he was born a slave, she would've hit him for talking to her like that. No matter his rank, he is and will always be beneath her. Once a slave, always a slave.

"I swear to Jupiter. One day in battle, I will..."

Lucius takes a deep breath, before focusing back on his wife.

"We are eating dinner with the Imperial legate, the leader of these legions tomorrow, and the senior generals. I expect you to impress them."

"I'd be happy to, love."

Sana almost spits out that last word, but Lucius doesn't seem to notice. He sits back down, opening an envelope. She can see how his eyebrows are still furrowed. He won't let this incident pass without consequences.

Sana eventually leaves the house to explore the small town and it's market. Despite being married to Lucius, she can't stay around him for too long. She is only his wife, because of his money and connections. As soon as she can find someone better...

Sana feels a little dizzy as she steps out of the big house. Lucius told her to be on her best behavior. But that idiot was behaving the worst throughout the dinner.

She hated how calm and reserved the other centurion was, the man who stopped her. He was the lowest ranking soldier and yet, everyone listened to his advice and thoughts about future and past battles. And how is he on a first name basis with the imperial legate? And why is Lucius too incapable to enjoy the same treatment? How can he do worse than a slave?

Sana holds onto the wall, standing right next to the entrance. Suddenly, two men walk out the door. They don't see her because it's dark. She tries to find out who they are. The first one is a little taller, while the second has broader shoulders and looks more muscular.

"We can't do this forever, Gaius. We need a plan to wipe him out. I expect you to help me with that."

"Of course, Gaius."

Sana almost groans in annoyance. Of course it's that Gaius Marius. And the other one is the Imperial legate. Gaius Julius Caesar.

"Rome is an empire. We will defeat Vercingetorix sooner rather than later. His supporters will crumble soon."

"You did a good job today, centurion. You've proven once again, why you rightfully carry the name I gave you. Gaius Marius Antonius."

Sana assumes they are talking about some barbarian leader. But Caesar gave him that cognomen? She can't help but wonder what he must've done to be called "priceless".

"You know the political situation in Rome. The more time I waste conquering Gaul, the more powerful my enemies become."

"I swear to Mars. I will cut down anyone who tries to oppose you, Gaius."

She sees Caesar put a hand on the centurion's shoulder.

"It's only a matter of time, until you will be one of the Tribuni angusticlavii, leading the tenth legion into battle. And I will make sure, you will eventually become a rich senator."

Sana has heard enough. It's so disgusting to her. A slave becoming a senator. She is working so hard to become the most powerful woman in Rome. And with that in the whole empire. How can that lowlife become something better than she herself? Sana either needs to push Lucius further up the ranks, or she needs to find someone, who can match Marius' new found status.

Sana groans in relief, when she can finally leave the small village. It's not like someone forbid her to leave, but there just wasn't something to do in and outside the village. What was she gonna do in a forest? A very dangerous one at that?

But now, she heard of a big market place around two hours away. Sana is still looking to buy some oils and pottery. She could do that in Rome of course, but she is hoping to find them cheaper in their land of origin.

Looking out of her carriage, Sana leaves behind the village and the big camp right next to it. The constant noise made her head spin. Not that Rome isn't loud, but this is something else.

After about an hour, Sana hears a troop of men marching in front of her. She became familiar with that sound after a few days. She doesn't look outside, despite being curious. Why would a century be here? The battles would take place in the opposite direction. Right?

Sana hears how the carriage passes the back of the century. The heavy steps of the legionaries kick up some dust. Her old servant looks outside, curious herself.

"It's him again."

The older woman grimaces, before letting the curtain drop back into place.

"Who?"

"The man who stopped us a couple of days ago."

Sana's attention is now on the men outside. She remembers the conversation you had with Caesar.

"Really?"

She pretends to be cold, not wanting to get caught. After having seen you around a couple of times, the young noble woman is unsure on how to feel about you.

Yes, you are a former slave. A peasant. But you are also a great centurion. A trusted man to Julius Caesar.

Despite being not the highest ranking officer, Sana did notice how the other men look at you. She catches an occasional whisper of your brave actions in battle. She sees the men greet you with almost too much respect. Even the other centurions seem to want to be on your good side.

Maybe that's what Sana has to do too. In order to further climb up the ladder. It is risky. And it's still a long time in the future. But if Caesar can really make his ambitions reality, you will be one of the first people who benefit from it. And if Sana plays her cards well, she can benefit too.

For a moment, she wonders what a man like you would need. Something she could have to bargain with. Money? You probably earn quite a lot already. Especially compared to your earlier environment. Land? You will get that too, if you stay long enough in the army. A wife? You are a soldier. You are not allowed to be married.

As Sana is still pondering on what to do to convince you to help her gain more power, she gets closer towards the front of the century.

And it's not like she doesn't have influence. She could maybe even get you a promotion into the first cohort. Of course without her husband finding out.

Sana draws back the curtain a little with only one finger. Just a few meters ahead, she can see you walking.

Your helmet is decorated by a big crest of red horse hair. The back of the helmet and the rest of your armor shimmer in the light of the sun. She remembers your first encounter. Your armor was full with blood, indicating that you were more than able to fight a battle.

You turn around as you hear horses behind you. It wouldn't have been a surprise. One of the auxilia officers could be taking his men out to train.

Surprised at the sight of the carriage, you catch a glimpse of the passenger. Her eyes meet yours, a big golden ring decorates the finger that holds back the curtain. You could swear you see a small hint of a smile play around her lips.

"Salve."

You great her by hitting your armored chest with your fist. Not because you like her, but out of politeness.

"Salve, centurion."

Her passive aggressive mentioning of your rank indicates that she is still not over that incident a couple of days ago.

"Are you visiting the market?"

"I am. I suppose you are not here to buy pottery?"

A mocking smile replaces the earlier one.

"It may sound unbelievable, but I'm not."

A cute chuckle escapes her mouth.

"Well, I hope you enjoy this beautiful day."

Is she still mocking you, because you are on duty? You are not sure, but you can see her lazily wave goodbye as the carriage drives past you.

"Don't get too close to her. She is only gonna be trouble."

You look at Quintus.

"I'm merely being polite. I don't need trouble with angry nobles. At least not now."

"By Jupiter. One might think you've become a responsible, grown man now."

"Fuck off."

You raise your hand, but Quintus ducks away, avoiding a potential slap.

Only listening with one ear to the conversation next to you, you scan the market for the young noble woman. Despite her attitude and the fact that she is married, you can't help but glance at her occasionally. Plus, the market isn't as safe as it might seem. Cunning merchants, thiefs and rebels might roam the place, ready to strike at any moment. And being a beautiful Roman woman makes her one of the most desirable targets right now.

"Listen, Roman! I barely sell anything! How do you expect me to pay your unreasonable taxes?!"

"Shut it."

You turn back to the stall holder. Titus' and his conversation got heated.

"We are not hear to argue. We are here to collect taxes."

The man grits his teeth.

"I'm telling you! I don't have anything to give away!"

The other people around you look at the scene, before walking past. Only you and a couple of legionaries are here. The rest of your century is patrolling another village nearby and the rest of the market, making sure you are not getting ambushed.

"Don't scream at me, old man. Pay up."

"I don't have a fucking coin!"

You know he is lying. You saw someone buy his fabric from a far as you entered the marketplace. And, judging by the money bag he held earlier, it wasn't cheap at all.

"We can do this the easy way, or the heard way."

You take a step forward, towering above him.

"But the hard way won't end well for you."

"I already told you, I-"

You let your head fall back in annoyance. Collecting taxes is a necessity. Not something to be proud of. It's not as honorable as fighting in battle.

"Do you really want to go this far?"

You look down at him again, your hand now resting on the pommel of your gladius.

He caught the movement of your hand, worry creeping onto his features.

"What is it gonna be? Your life? Or coin?"

The old man is not stupid. And a couple of moments later, you walk away from his stall. The tinkle behind you indicates, that Titus is adding the silver denarii into the bag with the rest of the already collected money.

"Are you trying to rob me, old man? You are a con artist!"

Women screaming at a merchant are as common as clouds under the sky, so you don't pay much attention to it as you hear someone scream.

"How can you demand so much for this lousy work?"

You keep walking, although you kinda feel, like you heard this voice before. It sounds oddly familiar.

"By Bellona! I'm going to have you beaten for your rudeness!"

And there it is. With an annoyed groan, you immediately recognize, who is disturbing the rather peaceful market.

If she was a common local woman, you would've kept walking. The Galli could solve their own disputes.

But Sana is, as unfortunate as it is, not a local. She is a Roman woman. A member of the elite even.

You take a deep breath, before walking towards her screams. You can already guess whom she is screaming at.

"Keep going."

You tell Titus over your shoulder, as you approach her from behind. Her servant must have stayed with the carriage, because Sana is standing in front of the stall of the potter all alone.

Before the young woman can scream another word, you grab her arm.

"What-"

You spin her around and walk away, pulling her with you.

"What do you think you are doing?!"

"Silence."

You didn't say it in a loud voice, but your tone makes her go silent.

After a couple of meters, you stop, turning around to look at her.

"You're welcome."

"Excuse you?"

Her hands now rest on her hips. You can't help but catch how slender her waist seems to be.

"I just saved you from embarrassing yourself even further. You owe me."

You turn away, ready to reunite with Titus and your men.

"What the-"

It's now Sana's turn to grab your arm, stopping you from leaving.

"I don't owe you shit."

"Really?"

You turn to look at her again.

"Your temper is as bad as your observation skills. Minerva would strike you down for your utter incompetence."

You said the words, before you thought about them. You are aggravated. Because of the merchant earlier, because of her causing a scene, because of Lucius (as always) and because of her being his wife. Alright, maybe that last one was a little jealousy.

"How dare you? You are some rude-"

You stop her from saying another word by grabbing her shoulders and spinning her around.

"Look. Look and tell me what you see."

"What are you talking about?"

You see her frowning. An act that makes her beautiful face a little less flawless.

"Tell me what's going on."

You realize you are using the same tone as with the men during training. Harsh, straight forward, a little condescending. But not rude. Just factual.

"The merchant is still selling his stupidly expensive pottery."

You don't answer, waiting for more.

Sana, visibly annoyed, struggles against your grip for a moment, before giving in. You are a seasoned legionnaire. There is no way she is gonna get out of your hold on her.

"There are a couple of women and men who browse his items."

"Keep going."

"Someone is buying a bowl and an amphora."

"What is the woman on the right doing?"

"She is paying for her stuff. What-"

"Can you see how much she is paying?"

"Way too much for a stupid-"

"Do you see any of the locals complaining?"

Sana hesitantly shakes her head.

"Do you know the reason?"

"Because they are stupid. In Rome it's cheap-"

"We aren't in Rome, woman. This is Gaul."

You stand behind her, both of you silent for a couple of moments. You give her time to think about the possible reason. Although she is probably just complaining about you to the gods in silence.

"They all pay the price he demands, because he and his work are respected here."

"But they look-"

"Yeah. Some of his pieces aren't pretty."

You admit that.

"But he is an old man. His hands aren't as good as they used to be. He is obviously regarded with a decent amount of respect."

You gesture for Sana to look around the market.

"Most of the people here bargain over every single item. Food, cloth, tools and even pottery."

You turn her back towards the old man's stall.

"But not there. They respect him too much to try to get a better price. His work might not be the very best anymore, but his skill is known by everyone here."

Sana groans in annoyance and anger as she sees you coming out of the biggest tent of the camp. A week has gone by, since you treated her like a child at the market. Her blood still boils, whenever she sees you from a far.

She decided against telling her husband, not wanting to cause unnecessary friction. And if you have the favor of Caesar, it might be a bad idea to egg on her husband.

And Sana is still debating on your ability to help her seize more power. She is ready to do anything to get to the top. Even if it means working together with someone as low born as you.

Sana stops in her tracks as she sees her husband walk towards you.

"Aelius."

You don't greet him like any other lower ranking centurion would. The young woman can feel the tension between the two men, despite standing barely in earshot.

"Marius."

His face shows a disapproving twitch.

"It seems like we are catching up to Vercingetorix. I hope you don't make any mistakes in battle. I would hate to lose a lower ranking officer."

You click your tongue, taking a step forward.

With the two of you standing right in front of each other, Sana realizes that you are bigger than her husband. Not just in statue, but also in the way you carry yourself. With slightly less arrogance and more discipline.

"Don't worry about me, Aelius. As you know, I always make sure my men are taken care off."

Sana feels a shiver run down her spine. She heard more than enough stories about the battles of the tenth legion since she joined her husband. The amount of times that you were mentioned in one of them was noticeably high.

The young woman heard of a battle two summers ago. You weren't a centurion at the time. Merely a soldier of the second cohort. But in battle, your centurion chose to let his men die, while he stayed behind, watching his century getting slaughtered. After half of the eighty men were dead, you walked straight towards the cowardly centurion. A nobleman, which the storyteller didn't fail to mention with a hint of disgust. Your gladius seperated his head from his shoulders in one swift motion and you took command of the second century until the end of the battle. Caesar honored your bravery and agreed with your actions. Instead of getting executed, you got promoted.

"Are you implying I'm not leading my men well?"

Sana hears you chuckle.

"News travel fast among the younger men, Aelius."

"Maybe you should discipline your soldiers like I do. Your century is a disgrace to the tenth legion."

"Nugas garris. You are pathetic."

You walk off, leaving him behind.

Sana almost expects her husband to draw his gladius. How can you call him a disgrace? And idiot? He is higher ranking than you and he is a member of the elite.

But Aelius just watches you leave, before entering the tent you just came out of.

That short interaction reminds Sana of the power you actually hold. You might not be the highest officer, but almost the whole legion treats you as such. If it wasn't for your low birth, you might have been able to be the centurion of the first century of the first cohort.

Sana's decision is slowly forming in her mind. A plan to gain more power than she has right now. Siding with you might be risky. But the rewards could be great.

Sana glances at you from across the room as you stare at Caesar, who is currently talking. She is still not quite sure what she can offer you to make you join her side. But when the leader of the legion mentions the nobility in his speech, she sees your expression change for just a second. It is obvious that you hate all the wealthy and arrogant men and women. Maybe Sana can offer you something to get back at them. Or at least get back at Aelius.

"And that's why the tenth legion outshines any other. Your bravery and honor are praised throughout the whole empire. Rome is grateful for what you have done. And the gods smile down at the men, who give their lifes to the republic."

Caesar ends his speech. And with that, the long meal is finally over. It is night time already. Only the moon and the stars still shine.

You walk out of the large tent, ready to sleep. It has been a long day and there is no doubt that you will be fighting soon. Caesar's promise to promote you to such a high position still rings in your ears. You can't believe you've come this far.

"Gaius."

Her sweet voice makes you stop in front of your tent. She doesn't sound as angry as she usually does.

"Yes?"

You turn around, standing face to face with Sana.

"I'm here to ask you for something."

You look at her, waiting for an explanation.

"I heard that you are the bravest and most powerful man in this legion. At least unofficially."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Where is all of this honey suddenly coming from?"

Sana gives you a melodic chuckle. Only now do you realize how close she is standing. Her oils make you breath in the flowery air that surrounds her.

"I want to strike a deal with you."

"What would you want from such a low ranking officer like me?"

Your sarcasm makes it hard for Sana to not lash out. Just because she needs you, doesn't mean that she likes you.

"As far as I've heard, you won't be a low ranking officer for long."

"Is that so?"

You cross your arms in front of your chest.

"Well, it's actually quite simple. You have something I want. And I have something you want."

"I highly doubt that."

You watch Sana turn her head left and right, making sure that no one is around.

"There is a always something a man wants from a woman."

You are surprised at what she is suggesting.

"Judging by the look on your face, I can comfortably say that I'm right."

You shake your head, which seems harder than usual.

"Have you never thought about having your way with me? A noble woman?"

She takes another step closer. Now, Sana's sandals are touching yours.

"A married one at that? I bet you would love to destroy my husband. This could be your first step to success."

You narrow your eyes, still unsure of what to do. You've never been in this kind of situation. Is she making fun of you? Did Aelius put her up to this, setting a trap for you? Or is she genuine?

"What would you get in return?"

"Your power. Your influence. I can't live, knowing that another person might have more power than I do. I need to be at the top of the republic."

"And you think, I can get you there?"

Sana nods.

"With my support? Definitely."

She looks at you, waiting for a response.

You are still torn. She has a nice body, yes. But you're not fond of her attitude. She is a noble woman. And she is married. Getting caught would have serious consequences. For the both of you.

But the chance to use her? A noble woman? Fucking her, while her husband is only sleeping a couple of tents away? More than just tempting.

You look around the camp yourself. No one in sight.

"Get in."

A victorious smile forms on her lips. As she walks past you, she lets her finger glide over your armoured chest.

You follow her immediately after.

"Now that we have come to an agreement, I-"

You push Sana forward, bending her over the wooden table.

"What-"

You don't give her time to speak. If you're going to do this, you're going to do this quickly.

Hiking up her red stola, you reach underneath her tunic. The smoothness of her legs makes you hard as you reach between them.

"It seems like you are enjoying this more than I expected."

Your fingers graze her lower lips. She is not just a little wet.

"Hey, I didn't give you permission to-"

You shut Sana up by covering her mouth with your other hand.

"I don't need you permission. I'm going to ruin you anyway."

Her gasp is muffled by your hand as you push your first finger inside.

You haven't slept with a lot of women, the army being mainly responsible for that. Nonetheless, you do know how to pleasure a woman.

Sana's moan escapes between your fingers as your digits slide along her wet walls. Her pussy is already gripping them tightly.

If it weren't for your hand, her head would've sunk onto the table already. But you are holding her in place, which ultimately makes her arch her back.

She tries to say something, but your grip on her mouth makes it impossible for her to speak properly.

You are surprised at how wet Sana is.

"Was your desire for power just an excuse? Do you just want me to fuck you?"

She tries to shake her head. You don't let her.

"Do you get off, knowing that a lower born man is fucking you?"

Sana is unable to respond, when you let go off her face. Her whole upper body is now lying on top of the table. You drop your belt and hike her clothes up a little further.

"Don't get confused. I still don't like you."

Sana's growl doesn't sound very convincing with your fingers inside of her.

"Might be true. But you aren't married to Aelius because of his personality anyways."

Pulling your fingers out of her core makes Sana moan loudly. She blushes in shame. Doubt starting to rise inside of her. Is she really only doing this to team up with you?

"You only seem to care for power."

"So? Only a coward wouldn't want power."

You shut her up by letting your tip graze against her lips. Sana hisses through her teeth, unwilling to moan again.

"I'm just curious about how far you would be willing to go. How dedicated you are to this cause."

"Don't worry. I'm ready to do anything."

"Anything?"

You raise an eyebrow, which Sana can't see.

"Anything."

"That's reassuring."

Your nonchalant tone makes Sana shiver.

Finally, you push inside of her.

"Fuck, woman."

You can't help but marvel at how tight she actually is.

"Fuck me already."

It's a mixture of plea and demand.

With one hand you grab her hair, pushing her cheek against the wooden surface. Your other hand holds her waist.

Another moan escapes Sana's lips as you thrust forward. Before she can react, you pull back and push inside of her again.

After just a couple of seconds, you start to fuck her hard. The table rocks back and forth with every thrust. Her moans escape her lips, whenever you bottom out inside of her.

"Harder!"

Sana holds onto the edge of the table, her knuckles slowly starting to turn white.

Because you keep pushing her upwards with your thrusts, the young woman's feet eventually dangle in the air.

You are now able to fuck her even deeper. Her moans become louder when she feels your cock invading her pussy even further.

At this point, Sana is merely a hole for you to fuck. She doesn't move. Only your thrusts rock her body back and forth. The thin material of her clothes makes Sana's nipples rub against the wooden surface. They've become hard due to her arousal and are now adding to the pleasure she is already feeling.

"So good!"

She moans yet again. You suddenly realize, that this isn't really a save place to be this loud.

"Shut up."

You growl into her ear, trying to quiet her.

But Sana can't help it. She has already lost control over her body. Your cock is parting her walls again and again, making her clench around it tightly.

She is even unable to produce a disappointed whine, when you stop fucking her. You leaver her snug pussy, before getting her off your table.

Turning her around, you push Sana against the wooden post, which is holding up the roof of your tent. Reaching for your belt, you hold her arms up, before tying them together.

Sana is now unable to leave. You pick up her light frame, making her impale herself on your cock.

"By Bellona! Fuck!"

"I told you to stay quiet."

Your faces are barely an inch apart.

Because you push her body against the post, you are able to lift her up with only your left hand. Your right one moves upwards to wrap its fingers around her throat.

"One more word..."

You let the threat of unknown punishment linger in the air for a moment.

But you can't hold yourself back for long. Sana's pussy drips her juices onto your cock, coaxing you into resuming your pounding.

A whimper escapes her mouth, when you start to fuck her again. You can tell she is at least trying to stay quiet this time. While you make her bounce on your cock, you thrust upwards. It makes her eyes roll back, whenever she feels your cock pushing against her guts.

"Venus!"

A louder sigh escapes her mouth yet again. You close your fingers around her throat a little further.

"Behave."

The conflict in Sana's eyes amuses you.

She should be the one in charge. She is the noble one of the two of you after all. But here she is, bound to your post, your hand around her throat as you fuck her as hard as you can.

Sana tries to fight the belt, wanting to tell you that you have to choke her harder. She can't keep quiet when you fuck her like this.

Another moan escapes her lips and you tighten your grip yet again.

"I warned you."

You hiss into her face.

Sana's wide eyes look beautiful. The way she stares at you, begging you to fuck her harder, while she tries her best not to make any noise.

But she fails miserably. A loud sigh echoes through the tent.

Without a word, you reach upwards. The sound of metal on metal cuts through the night as you pull your pugio out of its sheath. You let Sana get a good look at it. Then, you slowly part her lips with its blade.

"If you don't want to hurt your pretty face..."

You don't continue your sentence once more. But Sana is well aware of the risks.

With your dagger in her mouth, Sana has to pull back her lips, while simultaneously biting onto the blade, to make sure it doesn't fall or hurt her.

You see her closing her eyes as you keep fucking her. She is now really quiet, focused on keeping your pugio in place.

"Finally. Your voice so annoying."

Sana blushes in shame, able to see your honesty in your eyes.

"At least you have a nice body. I could fuck you every day."

The young woman almost lets out another moan. She really has to hold herself back. This was the first time someone reduced her to nothing but a wet hole to fuck. She didn't expect it to feel this good.

You suddenly hear footsteps outside. You stop moving, almost making Sana whine in disappointment, but then she hears it too. The two of you hold your breath. Neither of you wanting to get caught.

As the footsteps disappear into the night, you resume your fucking.

You make Sana bounce up and down on your cock. She glides along its full length. Whenever you impale her on it, Sana's eyes shoot wide open. She would scream if it wasn't for the dagger between her teeth.

"I'm gonna cum."

You hiss into her face, unable to hold back longer. Her tight pussy has been working on draining your cock this whole time. It feels perfect, almost too good to pull out. But cuming inside is obviously not an option.

You put Sana back onto her own two feet, taking the knife out of her mouth. Undoing your belt, you free her arms. Sana drops to her knees, opening her mouth. You catch a couple drops of blood on the corners of her mouth, before she wraps her lips around your cock.

Your pugio falls out of your hand and you take a fistful of her beautiful hair. Her eyes look up at you, telling you to finish inside her mouth. Her tongue glides over every inch of your cock it can find, while her lips are tightly sealed around it.

"Sana."

You manage to groan her name, before you unload inside her mouth. You feel dizzy, having to close your eyes for a moment.

When you open them again, you see Sana gulping down your cum.

"How often do we need to do this, so that we have a deal?"

"I think you know the answer."

It's so dark that Sana's face is barely lit by the torch outside. You could swear a small smile plays around her lips though.

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #twice sana #twice #sana minatozaki #sana twice #sana smut #sana #twice smut

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exhaslo · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Day 15- Miguel x Reader (Breeding Kink)

*Requested by several readers ;) *

It all started with just a simple phrase. Just one little thing that you did not think anything of. Two little words that you always said whenever you were stressed out. Who would have thought that your five seconds of brain rot would be what made Miguel finally snap. The man that you had been lusting over was finally making his move and you were not sure if it was a good thing. Who were you kidding, you fucking loved it.

Backtrack to earlier that day. Miguel had called on you for a quick anomaly capture that you were more than eager to join. You had been at the Spider Society for a few months now and tried your very best. You wanted to make an impression. At least to Miguel. He was handsome and just your type. Especially when he spoke Spanish to you. Oh, you could feel a puddle form between your legs. The man was quick to turn you into putty every time he looked at you with those piercing red eyes of his.

And his fangs?!

Oh, when you first saw him smile with those fangs, your imagination went wild. Miguel was built and tall. Who knows what he packed under that suit. You wanted to find out, but you had to do it the right way. You first needed to confess to him, then hopefully date him, then from there on...well, you never got past the confession part. You always felt the words catch at your throat whenever you thought about telling Miguel you liked him.

Anyway, you quickly returned to your mission, wanting to please Miguel. He was waiting for you with this capture and the report. This was going to be your chance to confess...again...

----------

Miguel stood on his platform, working on some other reports for the spider society. He stopped for a moment to watch you on the cameras. He eyes focused from your determined expression to your curves. That suit was tight against your skin. Skin he wanted to touch. Miguel sighed heavily as he tried to look away. You were just perfect. Miguel had a hard time talking to you because all he wanted to do was ravish you. You were the perfect woman for him. The perfect woman for him to fill with his cum.

"Maldita sea, otra vez. (Damn it, again.)" He groaned under his breathe as his cock harden at the thought.

Miguel could smell your arousal whenever you spoke to him. He always had to find a way for you to leave. He had no choice. He wanted to fuck you dumb. To make you his. To keep you from putting yourself in danger. Miguel knew that these thoughts were animalistic, but to be fair, he was half Spider. Miguel groaned as he stroked his cock, thoughts of breeding you flooded his mind.

-----------------

You cheered as you successfully completed your mission. You dropped off the anomaly and went to find a quiet spot to work on your report. You hummed to yourself, seeing how late it was getting. Hopefully Miguel was still in office by the time you finished. Just thinking about Miguel made your pussy clench. You wanted him bad. Hell, if he told you to get on your back right now, you'd fold.

-----------

Miguel groaned lowly as he looked at the time. He needed to go home. He needed some sleep, but he was waiting. Waiting for you. He'd make up any excuse for why he was still there, just for you. Miguel watched you on the cameras as you made your way to his office. His daily dose of you and your aroma. He just needed to be in your presence for just a little bit in order for him to fuck himself later. Just so that he can listen to your sweet voice.

"Sorry I'm late, I may have dozed off." You lied, hurrying into his office.

Miguel inhaled deeply to your voice. Dozed off? He could smell how strong your arousal was. Miguel approached you, reaching for the paperwork. He grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand towards his lips. He was acting on instinct while you watched in horror. Your face turned bright red as Miguel casually licked your fingers.

"¿Por qué me haces esto, muñeca? (Why do you do this to me, doll?)" His voice was low as he groaned.

Ohhhh, you were folding.

"S-Sorry, what did you say?" You stuttered, knowing full well that Miguel could smell the fact that you just masturbated.

"I'm not dumb,"

"Fuck me," You whispered ever so lowly, "I-I wasn't think-"

"Que? (What?)" Miguel's eyes widen as he pulled you closer, "Don't say something you'll regret."

You gasped as Miguel dragged you to his desk, pinning you with his hips. He hungrily attacked your neck while his hands roamed your body. This wasn't how you planned things to go, but fuck it. This was one way to get with Miguel. Who would have thought that his senses were that strong? At least you knew that Miguel liked you back.

"Me aseguraré de que no te arrepientas de esas palabras, muñeca. Voy a follarte tan jodidamente bien. Llenarte. (I'm going to make sure you don't regret those words, doll. Going to fuck you so damn good. Fill you.)" Miguel groaned as he rubbed his growing erection against your soaked suit.

"M-Miguel...You know I don't-"

"I know, but you get so wet when I do." Miguel licked your lips as he ripped the bottom half of your suit with his talons, "So I'm going to keep talking to you in Spanish, whether you understand me or not."

You whimpered lowly as the cold air hit your wet pussy. Miguel groaned at the sight, watching your lips twitch, waiting to be filled. He removed the suit around his cock, letting it free. Just the sight of his cock near your pussy was making him drunk. Miguel captured your lips against in a feverish kiss as he held your hips in place. You spread your legs, moaning into him as you felt his cock starting to enter your folds. It was a good thing you masterbated beforehand.

"Tan apretado, pero tan bueno. Mírate esperando que te folle, qué buena chica eres para mí. (So tight, yet so good. Look at you just waiting for me to fuck you, what a good fucking girl you are to me.)"

You threw your head back, moaning loudly as Miguel kept shoving his cock into you. Your walls were sucking him in as he stretched you out. His tip just rubbing against your cervix, making you cry. You tried to look at him, but Miguel started to thrust deeply into you. Your body arched as you moaned his name. He pressed your legs against him, holding your waist so that he kept his hard, deep thrusts into you.

"Un ajuste perfecto. Eres tan jodidamente perfecta, muñeca. Voy a follar este coño hasta que se llene de mi semen. Voy a hacerte mía. (A perfect fit. You're so fucking perfect, doll. Going to fuck this pussy until it's filled with my cum. Going to make you mine." Miguel moaned lowly, drunk off your pussy.

"M-Miguel~" You cried out, reaching your orgasm.

"Así es. Ábrete a mí. Tu cuerpo quiere que te dé un bebé, ¿no? (That's right. Open yourself to me. Your body wants me to give you a baby, don't you?)"

You gasped as Miguel placed you in mating position. You bit your lower lip, never experiencing such pleasure. You could have sworn that you heard something about a baby, but at this point, you didn't care. Miguel was fucking you so good that you didn't care if he got you pregnant. You just wanted him to keep fucking you.

"(Y-Y/n), I'm....fuck...gonna fill you up..." Miguel groaned, slamming his cock into you at a more brutal pace.

Your eyes nearly rolled backwards as you felt his cock bruise your cervix. His balls slapping so hard against your skin that it was making your legs and pussy numb. Once he slowed down, you trembled, feeling his hot semen flow into your womb. His cock was still twitching inside you as you milked him dry. Trying to come back to your senses, you breathed heavily, facing Miguel.

"We can count this as a first date," You joked, catching your breathe. Miguel's pupils were blown as he captured your lips in another harsh kiss,

"I'm not done with you, muñeca (doll.)" He pulled out slowly before slamming his cock back into you, pushing his cum back inside, "Puedo follar durante horas, cariño. Deberías haber pensado en venir aquí oliendo tan caliente. Voy a poner un bebé dentro de ti, y si no esta noche, mañana. (I can fuck for hours, sweetheart. You should have thought about coming in here smelling so horny. I'm going to put a baby inside of you, and if not tonight, then tomorrow.)"

You moaned as Miguel kept his pace. Tears formed from the corner of your eyes from the overstimulation. You could feel another pool of heat forming. Trying to reach for him, you let out a whine as Miguel grabbed your hands instead. He brought his fangs to your neck while his hips snapped into yours. Miguel groaned, relishing in the sounds the two of you were making. He wanted to make sure he planted a baby inside of you. Trailing his fangs against your neck, Miguel enjoyed watching you tremble,

"Así es, corre para mí. Deja que tu cuerpo se entregue a mí. (That's right, cum for me. Let your body give itself to me.)"

"Miguel!" You cried out, reaching another orgasm. Miguel hummed lowly, holding your hips against,

"Good girl." He smirked before fasting his pace to fill you once more, "Puedes darme otro, verdad? (You can give me another one, right?)

--------------------

You weren't sure how long Miguel kept you in his office. When you woke up, you were in Miguel's home with cum still dripping down your legs. Miguel came to check on you, apologizing for being too rough. When you told him it was fine, he started to give you light kisses. Those kisses then turned into his cock drilling you from behind with you head pressed into the mattress.

"Impresionante, ¿tu cuerpo me extrañó después de unas pocas horas? Mira cuanto semen salió, tengo que rellenarte. No puedo permitir que desperdicies mi preciosa semilla. (Awe, your body missed me after just a few hours? Look how much cum came out, I have to refill you. Can't have you wasting my precious seed.)" Miguel teased.

"M-Mig....I...I gotta-"

"Hm? Gotta what?" Miguel held your hips closer, destroying your poor cunt, "Gotta get pregnant, right? That's what my good girl wants, right?"

"Mhm...Y-Yes~" You moaned out, feeling yourself about to cum, "G-Gimme...P-Please..."

"Así es. Tu cuerpo quiere mi semen. Serías perfecto para mi bebé. Hazme padre. (That's right. Your body wants my cum. You'd be perfect for my baby. Make me a father.)"

You gripped the bed sheets under you, moaning into the pillow as Miguel kept his rough thrusts. At this point, you didn't care if he got you pregnant. His cock drilling your pussy was too good. You got what you wanted and shared your feelings with him, sort of. You just skipped a few steps and found out last minute that he was a breeding kink. That wasn't the worst thing.

"Mhm~" You trembled as you felt Miguel fuck you as he cummed inside your womb.

"Miguel, your assistance is needed on a mission." Lyla appeared for two seconds before vanishing. Miguel cussed lowly, holding your hips as he tried to pull one more orgasm from both you and him,

"I'll be back later, don't waste a single drop, mi vida (my world). If you do, then I'll have no choice but to fill you back up, understood?" Miguel hummed lowly, successfully making you cum again,

"Y-Yes!" You cried out. Miguel chuckled lowly, slamming his cock as deep as he could, giving you one last fill,

"Good."

#kinktober #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel

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mingtinys · 20 days

Text

" i can't wait to spend forever with you "

pairing : kim mingyu x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : none

word count : 0.4 k

a/n : this is sheer mingyu brain rotting fluff and i am not the least bit ashamed

You wake before him. Soft light filters in through the sheer curtains, warming your skin and painting Mingyu's features with a delicate glow. He looks surreal. Like a statue carefully sculpted from pure marble. A dream come to life before your very eyes.

It's hard not to admire him when he's like this. His eyelids lax, long lashes splayed out beneath, the freckle at the tip of his nose, the pout on his lips. Every little detail that makes Mingyu, Mingyu. The rise and fall of his chest is easy and even, bare skin framed by the white sheets that slipped from his shoulder during the night. You tug them up when he shivers, letting your fingertips linger at his jaw.

You try your best to trace along the sharp curve with a feathery light touch. But it isn't long until your impulsive thoughts win over and your lips move to capture his. You think you've been pretty discreet until you feel Mingyu hum against your lips and start mirroring your movements.

He's all teeth as he smiles into the kiss. "Good morning to you too." The laugh he lets out is melodic and just hushed enough to not disturb the calm and quiet atmosphere.

"Sorry, I promise I wasn't trying to wake you."

"You are more than welcome to wake up me like that any day." There's a rawness to his voice, raspy yet airy at the same time. It makes your insides melt.

"You have the day off?"

"Mm-hm."

"How do you wanna spend it?"

"With you." He's still got that dopey smile on his face, eyelids droopy from not being fully awake quite yet. He really is a dream, you think. Mingyu pulls his arm from the warmth of the sheets and takes the hand you have resting on his jaw into his own. He intertwines your fingers and holds your clasped hands up where he can see, before bringing them down to his lips and pressing a long kiss to the back of your hand. The simple gesture makes your heart swell with a familiar warmth.

He readjusts, slipping his hand from your grasp in favor of holding yours at the bend of where your palm meets your fingers. The way a prince would when asking for a dance. And as his thumb ghosts over the base of your empty ring finger, your heart stops for a beat. His eyes never break contact with the spot as he speaks.

"I can't wait to spend forever with you." There's a conviction to how he speaks. The lack of hesitance in his words implies he's thought about this before. The lovesick glaze over his eyes only makes it all the more sincere.

taglist: @matchahyuck @dontwannaexsist @minnieminshi @myfavoritedelusion @tanya596carat

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messylustt · 1 year

Text

naive — rafe cameron + reader ( outer banks ) : your stepbro shows you what guys want.

contents : readers a bit of a bimbo, manipulative rafe, stepcest, use of 'good girl', fingering; kissing. wc 2.1k.

it started off as small touches. brushes across the arm when walking through the kitchen or taps on the shoulder when rafe wanted your attention.

but it gradually grew to more, like caresses on the head, whenever rafe thought you did something well. or a hand on your thigh when you’d both sit.

you’d brushed it off as rafe just showing affection to his stepsister, but you soon grew to realise that rafe never showed affection. least of all to his family. so the special touches and words of praise started to confuse you. so, much so that you confronted him one time.

“can i ask you something, rafe?” you were in the doorway to his room, tapping on the door to alert him of your presence.

rafe looked up from some clothes he was packing or unpacking (or something), nodding for you to continue.

“why are you so…nice to me?” you didn’t know how else to put it.

rafe straightens, letting his gaze wander your body as he assumably thinks. “why do you ask?”

“well,” you begin, playing with the hem of your sweatshirt. “you seem to pay more attention to me then the rest of the family.”

rafe then walks closer, tilting your chin up between his fingers, as it had fallen to gaze at your socks. you meet his gaze, innocent eyes awaiting his answer.

rafe stared at you, his gaze dragging across your features slowly. “do you not like that?”

“well—“ you cut yourself off stepping slightly back sighing. “i don’t know. i just find it strange. that’s all.”

rafe nods to himself. “what do specifically find strange?” he asks.

you lick your lips, swaying your head in thought. “your compliments.” you decide on.

“when i compliment you?” rafe re-asks. you nod. “can’t i compliment my stepsister?”

“well…yes.” you pause, thinking to yourself that you may have overreacted. “i guess you can.” you straighten, brushing your hair behind you. “no worries, forget i said anything.” you smile, beginning to head to your room. “night, rafe.”

“sleep well, y/n.” rafe watches you leave, gaze wandering down your thin tank top and loose shorts.

;;

you were laughing with some guy you had met at a party, a kook friend’s house filled with booze and flashing lights.

“how does that even make sense?” you laugh.

the guys smile had widened as he watched you, shaking his head. “that’s what I want to know.”

rafe watched from afar, sipping a beer bottle. your outfit choice was showing a little more skin then you’d usually, capturing the attention of the kook beside you. the guy had managed his hand onto your thigh as you giggled at a joke he uttered.

rafe tilted his head. he knew you knew practically nothing about what this guy wanted from you. rafe knew that your naivety would get you in trouble.

you weren’t ready for boys like the kook slowly drawing closer. rafe didn’t want your first experience to be a tipsy one with a quick-fuck walk-away. he couldn’t let that happen to his stepsister.

so, he pushed off the wall nearing you. you felt a hand rest on your shoulder. looking up you spotted rafe. he tilted his head to the side, silently telling you talk to him.

you shift your gaze back to the guy, who had grown disappointed at the fact that you were clearly leaving. “sorry.” you spoke before standing up, pulling down your skirt.

rafe ushered you into the dark hallway, free from any drunk people. you halted, as rafe partly leaned against the wall, gazing down at you. “are you alright?” you ask sweetly.

rafe just bit the inside of his cheek as the moonlight streaked across your chest, your shirt tight enough that he could see your nipples peaking through. “you chose not to wear a bra?”

you look down, taking in your bra less state. “they were all in the wash.” you shrugged.

so naive—rafe thought to himself. “you should have asked to borrow one, from sarah or somgthing. it’s not good to walk around like that.” rafe hovered one thumb over your nipple, as he held your gaze.

your brows furrow. “is it not?”

rafe shakes his head. “no.” he says, licking his bottom lip. rafe shifts his hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

you knew nothing about what the many boys on this island wanted to do to you. and rafe felt bad that you knew so little. his fingers had drifted to stroke your cheek a fraction. “this outfit too…is a little much.”

your brows again furrow, thinking the skirt and top was a nice combo. rafe catches your partially sad expression. “i’m only saying this because i want to take care of my stepsis.” rafe softly spoke.

rafe grabbed your chin again. “you know that right?”

rafe paused for a moment, just breathing. “let’s go home.”

you slightly frowned. “it’s okay. i’ll see you there later.”

but rafe shook his head. “i can’t leave you alone here.” and he doesn’t elaborate further, grabbing your hand and leading you out of the party.

;;

when you both got home, shutting the front door noiselessly, rafe’s thoughts had been running wild.

he hated the thought that if he wasn’t there that guy could have taken advantage of you. touched you when you weren’t ready to be.

he had paused on that thought though, as he walks behind you up the stairs. you’d need to know what to do in those situations at some point. those sexual situations, where you’d need to know what you liked and disliked.

you’d both reached the hallway when rafe grabbed your hand again, pulling you into his room.

rafe wanted your first time to be good and comfortable. and no better person than the one your the most comfortable with.

“rafe?” you questioned as he shut the door.

“shh.” rafe whispered, as he stepped closer to you.

you slightly shuffled back at how swift the action had been, your legs hitting against his bed. rafe was then pressing himself against you, brushing the hair away from your face. your pretty big eyes stared back, as he smiled.

“did you know what that guy was wanting from you?” rafe asked.

“um. he just wanted to give me a drink and talk. he had this funny story—“ rafe cuts you off chuckling.

“no, of course you didn’t.”

rafe began to slowly push you onto his bed, his body staying close. he found a position where his knees were either side of you, your head hitting the duvet. “what are you doing?” you ask, brows furrowed.

“i want to help you.” rafe answers, staring down at you.

“with what?”

“you want to be good at many things, don’t you?”

you scoff. “everyone wants to be good at many things.”

rafe smiles. “i want to help you be good at something.”

“something in your room?”

“something in my room.” rafe confirms, his breath hitting your face. “something that guy wanted to do.”

your brows furrowed. “what did he want to do?”

“can i show you?” rafe asked, to which you nodded, your curiosity getting the better of you.

rafe then leant down, his breath hitting your mouth. he grinned before wrapping his lips around your bottom lip. you gasped, not expecting this. rafe takes the opportunity of your open mouth to dive his tongue in, lapping at your own.

you had slowly began to kiss back, making rafe groan in approval. his hands now rested by your head, caging you in. for breath, and only for breath did Rafe break away. you’re panting. “w-what was that for?” you gulp.

“that was lesson one. you did very good.”

your thighs had begun to press together at his compliment. rafe immediately noticed, his chest picking up a pace.

but then you shake your head. “wait. but step-siblings don’t…kiss.”

“they don’t?” rafe asks, beginning to place kisses along your jaw.

“isn’t it…wrong?” your mouth has begun to open in pleasure as rafe sucked on your neck, his hand slipping to your hair, for a better grip, and to tilt your head how he wanted.

“i think it is.” you mutter, as your hand had lifted to grip his hair.

with your tight grip rafe moaned into your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “no.” rafe leant back, grabbing the hem of your shirt and letting it rest up by your neck.

the cold air hit your already peaked nipples making your squirm. rafe dragged his thumb over nipple making your body shiver. he then began to massage your tit, his breathing stuttering. "this isn't wrong. does it feel wrong?"

your mouth stayed hung open as rafe pinched your nipple when you didn't respond. "it feels..." you drift off as rafe leans down.

he darts his tongue out to lick your nipple making your gasp. his finger circles the other as he looks up to meet your eyes. "good." rafe finishes for you. he then grabs your chin as your head had lolled to the side.

"this is what that guy wanted to do." rafe says, continuing to circle your nipple. "why you shouldn't walk around without a bra."

rafe leans down again, to lick and bite at your nipple. your back had begun to arch into him, a pressure forming between your legs. "you won't do that again, right?" rafe asks gently.

you partially nod, as pleasure runs through your veins. "good girl." rafe praises, making the heat between your legs much more prominant. "you're always good for me, aren't you?"

your bottom lip began to hurt with how hard you were biting it. "such a good little stepsis." he whispered, before sucking on your nipple.

"oh—god, i—" you try, some sense of you feeling shame. he was your stepbrother. step-siblings don't act like this. you begin to try and push away, to which rafe just grabs your hands in a tight lock, continuing to lick and kiss your tit. "you know what else he wanted to do?" rafe asked, leaning back to meet your gaze.

your cheeks are flushed. "i don't think I want to know." you whisper. "because we shouldn't..." you gulp. "we shouldn't be this close."

"my dad gets to choose a favourite, why can't i?" rafe asks, pushing your skirt up. rafe hums in approval at seeing the wet patch that had formed on your panties. you go to shut your legs, growing embarrassed, but rafe intercepts, spreading your legs wider.

"no, no. keep them wide for me." rafe says, looming over you again. his hand dipped down, two fingers beginning to rub your clothed pussy. your mouth opened in a mix of shock and pleasure. rafe leaned down to your ear, whispering. "this is what he wanted to do."

you gulped, the feeling spreading through your entire body. "b-but he can, he's allowed."

"is he?"

"well..." you begin as rafe bypasses your panties, spreading your wetness around, making a noise slip from your lips. "it's fine if he t-touched me like this." you gulp.

"so, just because i'm your stepbrother, you think that me touching you is wrong?" rafe asks, circling over your clit.

you shakily nod. rafe chuckles, inserting one finger. you clench your fists, your hands still stuck in rafe's hold. "but it feels...good. doesn't it?" rafe asked, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss.

he leans slightly back, just hovering. "doesn't it?" he had begun to pump his finger in and out of you. he bites your lip making you squirm as your chest heaves.

"i know it does." rafe says. a look of shame had covered your features, because it did feel nice.

rafe pecks your lips, catching your expression. "it’s okay. i'm just helping you. your older stepbro should teach you things, right?"

"yeah." he answers himself almost absentmindely, pushing a second finger in. your walls were clenched around him, pleasure now clouding majority of your shame.

rafe had quickened his pace, your whimpers filling his ears. "you have to tell me if you like this." rafe breathes. "in bed you have to tell them what you want—what you like."

"so, tell me," rafe began, hitting your g-spot repeatedly. "how does this feel?"

"good..." you mutter out, your brows pinched in pleasure. "so good...so good."

rafe grinned, running his thumb over your clit. "rafe. i’m gonna—"

rafe kisses you, hard, as he keeps the pace. when the pleasure hits, you're jolting beneath him, open mouth against his. "christ." you whisper as your high slowly dissapates.

rafe smiled against your lips, finally drawing his fingers out. “let me help you." he whispered partly to you and partly to himself. “let me help you learn.”

#. ( archived )#the rafe effect #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe fanfiction #outer banks #outerbanks smut #stepbro #stepsis #stepcest #stepbro!rafe #smut

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 9 months

Text

So Much To Teach

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: quite a few; dom Spencer kinda, oral (f receiving), age gap; reader is 21+ but it's a lil dubious by default bc he's her professor and therefore an authority figure but shhhh its fine shhhh, fingering, marking a little bit, p in v sex, they both talking diiiiirty, minor praise, risky sex, multiple orgasms, edging- I think I got everything??

Genre: Smut

Summary: You want your professor's attention but you had no idea what would happen if you got it- you also had no idea you'd get it by talking to a classmate

Part 2

***

Professor Reid is by far your favorite teacher ever and you make sure to make it as obvious as you can get away with. You're always early to his class, you sit in the front row, ask questions as often as you can, take full advantage of his office hours- all of it. You're determined to make Spencer Reid think of you as often as you think of him. Unbeknownst to you, you didn't need to put so much effort into capturing his attention. Not that you'd ever be able to tell, Spencer is always the epitome of professionalism. Well, almost always. He's human after all and you- you might as well be a siren. On the days you come in wearing your shortest skirts, toying with the hem absentmindedly, it's practically impossible for him to keep his gaze above your desk. He's not careless though, only allowing himself to stare when he's not the focus, during exams for example. He especially loves presentation days because he can spend them shamelessly eye-fucking you while you're busy addressing the class. You never seem to notice the way his attention drifts to you, and he's counting his lucky stars for it. He's plenty aware of the implications of his little crush. He wouldn't be so stupid as to make a move on you, especially while you're still his student. Spencer has spent more than enough time convincing himself that the risks outweigh the reward. For now, he'll have to be content watching you from a distance, even when you saunter into his office in your tight blouses to discuss your homework. On those days he knows the memory of your boobs practically spilling out of those shirts will keep him up for at least another hour later that night.

Weeks of your silent game that you're sure he's not actually picking up on have you growing bored of focusing only on getting his attention. Sure you want him to think about you, but you're not so crazy to think he'd risk his job to say, bend you over his office desk like you so desperately wish he would every time you go in there. You're young and in college and while the boys here do not hold your attention the same way, you're not above a little distraction. Which is why today you walk into class chatting with another student, a guy named Matt who has been trying to get you to notice him for a while now. Professor Reid isn't in the class yet and you hop on top of your desk as you talk to Matt about some sports thing. You're not totally following but he's cute so you giggle and pretend you get it, swinging your legs and batting your eyelashes in the way you know college boys respond so well to. You hardly even notice Spencer enter the classroom, but he zeros in immediately on the sight of you smiling at some kid. Matt's a good student, Spencer really has nothing against him, but he rolls his eyes at the two of you knowing that Matt would never be able to keep up with you.

"Quiet down everyone. Miss y/n your butt belongs in a seat, not on a desk and Mister Lewis I suggest you find somewhere to sit as well so we can begin." Spencer addresses you and Matt sharply, catching you off guard. He's never spoken to you that way but you can't help the amused look on your face as you mutter an affirmative and hop off the desk to sit in your chair. Maybe something's going on that put him in a bad mood. The class goes by smoothly after that and Matt is at your desk as soon as Spencer dismisses you all. Spencer has to turn his back to the room to hide the way his face twists up watching you.

The next class again, you walk in with Matt, this time Spencer is there already so you sit directly in your seat but Matt stays and talks to you while you wait for class to officially start. Spencer has to tamp his desire to break the conversation up for no reason until enough students pile in that he begins the lesson. This goes on for two more sessions, you walk in with Matt, twirling your hair, giggling at him, flaunting your gorgeous figure in flattering outfits that he openly gawks at you in, all while Spencer tries to keep himself from the edge of insanity. He has no right to be so put out by this, you're a student for crying out loud. He tries to remember that, tries hard to keep himself in check even as Matt basically invades your personal space as you're sitting on your desk before class again. You let him get entirely too close for Spencer's liking and when he sees you lean forward he can't stop himself from interrupting.

"Miss y/n." Spencer drawls out in a way that makes you want to shiver. "I've already told you desktops are not for sitting. Don't make me tell you again." Spencer says effectively ruining whatever was about to happen between you and Matt. He even backs off to let you get down from your desk.

"I'll see you after class okay?" You tell Matt sweetly and Spencer absolutely cannot take any more of this. He begins his lecture though his mind is somewhere else through most of it. He's busy planning. When the time comes and he dismisses the class Matt is quickly making his way to you and Spencer realizes he has to move now.

"Miss y/n. You don't have a class after this do you?" Spencer asks.

"No professor. Is something the matter?" You ask.

"There's something I'd like to discuss with you. Come with me to my office." He instructs.

"O-okay?" You frown. Matt does too from where he stopped when Spencer called your name. Spencer waits for you to finish collecting your things before he heads towards the class's exit. "I'll- I'll catch you later I guess Matt." You say over your shoulder before following Spencer. You try to think what this could be about. Your last paper was great, you know it was, plus there's no way he's through grading those yet, you aced the most recent test you took- there's no way he's calling you into his office because of the desk-sitting thing- is there? When you reach Spencer's office he shuts the door behind you and stands on the other side of his desk. He doesn't sit- which you find strange but nothing about this has been normal thus far.

"Is there a problem sir?" You ask sitting down.

"Is there a problem?! You- never mind. No y/n, no problem." Spencer forces himself to restrain that overwhelming urge he has to yell over Matt or simply split you open on his desk, or in his office chair, or against the wall- he shakes the thought from his mind, scrambling for an excuse for calling you to his office. "I just wanted to discuss something from- your paper."

"Oh you've started grading the papers?" You ask. He's only just gotten to them. He doesn't even think he's graded yours all the way through yet but he can't tell you the truth, that you're only here so you didn't walk out with Matt.

"Yes I have and there was something interesting... in your paper. I just need to find it, give me- a minute." Spencer shuffles through things on his desk, he's stalling and he hopes you don't notice.

"Professor Reid?" You tilt your head at him.

"Just a minute y/n." He mutters.

"Professor." You frown, your voice is forceful enough that he glances up at you. "I know you know exactly where my paper is. And I know that if there was really something you wanted to discuss in said paper you'd already have it memorized. You're almost irritatingly punctilious, I've been in your office more than enough times to know that. So what's really going on?"

"I suppose I should've expected this from one of my smartest students." He muses with a shake of his head.

"I know we're not friends by any means since you're my professor and all but we're both adults and I hope you'd respect me enough to tell me the truth." You tell him.

"Believe me I am trying very hard."

"To tell the truth or respect me?" You cross your arms.

"I respect you implicitly and because of that telling the truth here is- conflicting."

"Professor Reid, what am I doing in your office? I've asked you much harder questions than that in class."

"If only you knew." He scoffs.

"Professor-"

"You're right. I didn't call you in here to discuss a paper." He sighs knowing he's out of escapes. "It's that boy you've been draping yourself over all month." Spencer says through clenched teeth.

"Matt? You called me in here to discuss Matt? Why? Is he failing or something?"

"No. He maintains a solid B average in my class."

"Okay, then I'm really not understanding professor. What does Matt have to do with anything?" You shake your head.

"It is infuriating to watch him with you as if he has even the slightest chance of satisfying you in any way." Spencer walks over to you as he speaks, punctuating his sentence by leaning against the arms of your chair which forces you to lean back.

"And- what makes you the authority on who could satisfy me?" You ask breathily, blinking up at him.

"Considering you haven't even tried to move away from me I'd guess you know as well as I do." Spencer stares at you intently.

"Are you making a move on me professor?" You ask with feigned innocence that you know he sees through.

"Am I not being clear enough?" He asks.

"I dunno."

"Then allow me to make myself unequivocal." Spencer closes the small gap between you two, pressing his lips against yours fiercely. His hands hold your face as he pours all of his feelings and frustrations into this kiss. You grab hold of his wrists as you surrender yourself to the feeling of his mouth on yours. When he finally pulls away you're both left panting but a dam has been broken with that single kiss and your hands are pulling off his tie before he's even realized it. You stand up and kiss him again, fingers tangling in his hair, while his hands settle against your waist easily. He doesn't let you lead things for long, turning you both to sit you on his desk. "I'm going to show you everything that silly boy could never give you." Spencer grumbles against your lips.

"I never pegged you for the jealous type Professor Reid." You giggle.

"I've never been good at sharing." He quips kissing his way down your throat.

"Go figure." You mutter with a breathy sigh when his kisses turn to nips and sucks. "Careful. If you visibly mark me I'll have to lie." You tell him which only seems to spur him on and you yelp after a particularly harsh bite.

"Lie?" He frowns at you.

"I mean I can't very well say 'Professor Reid gave me those hickies' now can I?" You say and Spencer laughs as he drops into the chair in front of you.

"No, I suppose not, but you can absolutely use them to let people know you're taken." He says shuffling closer to you and pulling your underwear off from under your skirt.

"By people you mean Matt don't you?" You smile, amused at how miffed he is over your little distraction.

"Say his name again in here and I'll turn that ass of yours so red that you'll still have trouble sitting by next class." Spencer glances up at you with a warning look that has your exposed cunt clenching around nothing. An action he doesn't catch, seeing as your skirt is still hiding your center from him. He bunches your skirt up at your hips as he lifts you onto his desk and adjusts your legs so your feet are on it, knees wide so he can simply watch how your pussy glistens for a moment. His gaze is intense and soon you're squirming against the dark wood he's displayed you on.

"Professor Reid, touch me- please." You pout at him.

"Someone's getting impatient huh? You just look so pretty I can't help but want to stare." His words make you blush and the restlessness gets worse as he leisurely folds the sleeves of his button down shirt to reveal his forearms.

"Please professor-" You sigh.

"I like hearing you beg." Spencer's grin is nothing short of sadistic but he leans forward and lets his tongue drag through your wetness with a satisfied groan. He shifts to hold your legs open as he feasts on you like a man starved. It's hard to keep track of his tongue, thrusting in and out of you, circling your clit, disappearing entirely as he suckles harshly on the bundle of nerves all with incredible veracity. It's like he figured out how to read your body before he even began and he's got you teetering on the edge faster than you'd like to admit. Your hands tug desperately at his brown hair as you feel your orgasm building. Before you can even warn him of your incoming release he's switching his tactic, dragging you back from that end, still pleasing you but rather than feeding the fire he's simply maintaining it where it is.

"No!" You whine before you can stop yourself when you feel your orgasm slipping further away. His responding chuckle only adds to your frustration.

"If you're gonna cum princess it'll be when I'm ready for you to. Understood?" Spencer doesn't even lift his head as he speaks. He nips at your swollen clit when you don't answer and after a yelp, you manage a response.

"Y-yes sir." You get out.

"Good girl." He mutters lapping at your juices yet again. Same as before, he easily works you towards the edge with his tongue in all the right places, and like before, when your orgasm is in reach he walks you backwards. This time you manage to hold back your sound of frustration and then his fingers enter the mix and your small whimpers become full on whines as he curls two digits inside you just right to have you arching off of his desk. With his mouth focused solely on your clit while his fingers thrust in and out of you diligently, not to mention the previous denials, you're practically shaking as he works you up again.

"Professor Reid please let me cum this time, please sir- fuck I can't- I need to cum so bad. Please professor- I- I can't. Oh god." Your breathless pleas are barely sensible, but they satisfy Spencer and he doesn't pull back this time, doesn't stop until you're clenching around his fingers and spasming on his desk, struggling to handle the impact of your own orgasm. He watches the way pure ecstasy washes over your face with a smirk on his face as he helps you through it with gentle strokes of his fingers. When your breathless gasps become more subdued he pulls his hand away from your center. Before you can fully recover, Spencer pulls you off of the desk and turns your back to him, bending you over the desk with a hand at your back.

"Fuck- I need a condom." He mutters.

"Do you have any?"

"I- no? I don't regularly fuck people in my office y/n."

"I- have one in my bag. Front pocket." You mutter. Spencer reaches for your backpack and grabs the condom quickly, rolling it on with ease.

"I'm going to absolutely ruin you for anyone else." He tells you before thrusting himself into you. Inch by inch he slides deeper inside you and pinned against his desk all you can do is moan at the fullness. He sets a rhythm as soon as he bottoms out, his dick dragging against your walls with each hard thrust.

"Fuck- god that feels good." You mewl.

"Yeah? You like the way my dick splits you open don't you? Knew you would. You're absolutely perfect for me. Just me. Isn't that right?" He grunts through his filthy words, each one punctuated with another forceful thrust.

"Yeah- yes. God- yes."

"Say it. Say your mine princess."

"I- I'm yours sir. All yours. N-no one else's. No one else could fuck me like this- m-make me feel like this. Just you. Holy sh-shit." You pant out. Spencer's thrusts are rocking the entire desk at this point and you are sure the skin where your hips are ramming against the edge will be sore tomorrow but right now all you can focus on is how good it feels to be fucked like this. Better than you imagined and god you hope he never stops.

"Good girl." He breathes out.

"Feels so good Professor." You whine.

"I know, fuck I know. You feel so perfect y/n." Spencer groans. His hand wraps around your throat and pulls your back against his chest as he fucks you. Spencer's other hand, slides across your waist, finding your clit easily. He toys with the bundle of nerves and your hands grip the edge of the desk as you whine.

"Oh my god." You gasp.

"Let go for me y/n. Wanna feel you on my dick." Spencer says, kissing your shoulder. Your hand grabs at his arm desperate to ground yourself as your orgasm washes over you. Spencer hisses, your nails digging into his skin deliciously. His hips stutter and he groans, long and deep, as he spills into his condom, face buried in your neck. You both remain where you are, panting in the aftermath of it for several moments before Spencer breaks the silence.

"Did you have a condom because you planned on fucking Matt?" He asks and you can't help but laugh.

"No, I just always carry some. I like preparedness." You say, stuttering a bit when Spencer chooses to slip out of you while you speak.

"I'll have to start keeping some in here." He says, pulling his condom off and disposing of it.

"Planning on building a roster for yourself Professor Reid?" You quip adjusting yourself to lean back against the desk instead of still bending over it. Your tone is light but you'll admit you won't take it well if he says yes. Spencer frowns at you as he reaches into his desk for something.

"Is that a serious question?" He asks walking over to you with a packet of wipes in hand.

"Well it was a joke really but if you want to take it seriously be my guest." You shrug. He kneels in front of you, his frown deepening as he considers your words.

"No y/n I'm not 'building a roster'. The only person I'm planning on fucking in here is you, but it shouldn't be your responsibility to provide contraceptive methods for that. Also I've been inside you, I think you can call me Spencer when we're alone." He says gently cleaning you up. You try not to squirm at the intimacy of the whole thing.

"Oh. Okay." You can't think of anything else to say.

"Let me make something clear to you I'm not- I didn't just fuck you to get it out of my system and move on after this y/n. I'd actually like to continue something with you- unless of course, you have no interest in that, I won't pressure you. Although I can't imagine you can go back to Matt after that."

"You really hate him huh?" You laugh.

"He's a fine student. I just don't particularly like the way he drools over you." Spencer shrugs. "But it won't matter if you choose to see me again."

"I will. See you again I mean. This was fun." You say. A knock on the locked office door stops Spencer from speaking.

"Professor Reid?" A voice calls on the other side of the door. A student.

"Just a moment!" Spencer says, he quickly takes a moment to adjust your hair for you and pick up some of the scattered things from his desk while you fix your clothes.

"Spencer where is my underwear?!" You whisper at him.

"Oh I'll be holding onto that." Spencer winks at you, tapping his pocket where your panties are no doubt stuffed. You shoot him a look but grab your backpack and head towards the door.

"Thank you for answering my questions Professor! See you in class next week." You say loudly as you open the door. A boy you don't recognize is on the other side of it. He must be from one of Spencer's other sessions.

"Yes of course. See you next week." His response is almost dismissive, enough that this other student should have no idea what was going on before he showed up and only once you're practically out of the building do you let your giddy smile take over your face as you walk back to your apartment.

***

Part 2

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid

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itsjusthockey · 2 months

Text

A Hughes Affair - Jack Hughes

This might be my favorite and cutest shit I’ve wrote ever. Enjoy.

I’m bribing you. If I get lots of engagement (reblogs, comments, love in general) I’ll get nuts and do something crazy.

w.c: 4,541 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

On a rare day off that you and Jack get to spend together, you’d think he would want to spend it latched together somewhere private, away from his daily chaos. You would be wrong. Instead, he insists you spend the day at your least favorite place, doing your least favorite activity. The fucking golf course.

You’re two drinks in, lounging uncomfortably on the golf cart as you watch Jack take a swing, the ball immediately flying off the green toward the tree line. You can’t help but let out a loud snort, which earns a nasty glare from your boyfriend.

“Huh? What was that?” He starts walking toward you with the club handle outstretched toward you. “Think you can do any better?”

You gently bat the handle away from you when he gets close enough. “Why do you think I’m in the cart, J?”

He gives you a small smile, bends down to capture your lips in a quick kiss, and then strides away again.

“That’s what I thought.”

You narrow your eyes, then let out the most dramatic sigh you can muster.

“I’m just saying, J, if you’re gonna insist we go golfing, you better perform.”

He rolls his eyes at you, walking back toward the cart, and sits down next to you, pointing toward the direction of the ball.

“(Y/N), my love, will you please take me toward the ball so I may prove I’m worthy of you?”

You smack his knee but put the cart in motion anyway, speeding toward the ball as fast as the golf cart will carry you. You hit a couple of bumps on the way, satisfied when Jack grips his side handle and looks a little scared at your driving ability.

When you finally park next to the ball, he gets out, settles into his form, and swings away again, the ball going toward the correct direction.

“That was better,” you call out. “Not good, but better.”

He rolls his eyes again, and you throw him a wink, going to grab another shooter that you’d bought earlier. If he’s going to force you to watch him golf, you’re going to be a bit tipsy, and he’s going to have to take care of you later.

After your shot, you settle back into your regular system. You taunt him, he retaliates, you kiss and makeup, then the cycle begins again. It’s a good system; you genuinely love it, but when the sun starts to dip below the horizon, and you’ve run out of alcohol, you know it’s time to leave.

Jack must’ve sensed this, too, because he returns to the cart, places his club back into the bag, and sits down somewhat hard next to you.

“You may be slightly right. Today wasn’t my best showing.” He sighs. “But I’m on the rise.”

You laugh, grab his face, and pull it toward you, planting a giant kiss on his cheek, hoping to dull the pain of his inadequacy at golf.

After your kiss, you take that as your cue to finally escape this green hell, and you start driving toward the insanely nice country club main house to check back in your gold cart.

As you get closer to the building, you and back share a look. It’s decorated to the nines, and nicely dressed people are out and about, drinks in hand and mingling.

“It must be a wedding?” Jack questions, raising his eyebrow.

You hum in agreement and start making your way toward the drop-off point. You drop the cart, handing back the keys to the uninterested-looking teenage girl. You offer her your best smile and go to walk out before she calls after you.

“By the way, if you’re with the wedding party, the dance starts in half an hour.”

You move to say you’re not before Jack squeezes your hand and answers for you.

“Perfect timing then, thanks.”

You throw him a confused glance as you head through the door. A slight smirk is playing on his lips, and you don’t like the mischievous glint you see settling into his eyes. Once you clear the space, you head toward his Range, but before reaching for the door handle, he leans against the passenger seat, blocking you.

“How do you feel about crashing a wedding?”

You widen your eyes at the boy in front of you. Never in a million years would you expect him to say that.

“What?”

He shrugs his shoulders and points toward the trunk of a bag you have in there.

“I mean, it’s kinda fate. You still have that dress from Brunch, and I have an extra suit.”

You honestly think he’s joking, but his look is serious.

“What if we get caught? I would die.”

He shakes his head at your question, opening the back and pulling out your bag and the suit.

“We won’t,” he seems so sure of himself. “And if we do, we’ll handle it.”

He thrusts the bag toward you and opens the back door, gesturing you inside to change. You throw him one last questioning look but decide it’s much easier just to follow his lead.

It takes you a few minutes to change in his back seat, but it wouldn’t be the first time, and you highly doubt the last. Once you’re finished, you hop out and motion to the back of the dress so the zipper you couldn’t reach. Jack is quick to move your hair to the side and grab the zipper, pulling it up. Once he does, he gently kisses your shoulder and moves behind you to get dressed.

You stand watch as more and more people pour into the wedding. Your heart is thumping, and the nerves of what you’re about to do are getting to you. You feel slightly relieved when you see many couples your age walking in, but it also sets you even more on edge, knowing your age group will be a factor.

Almost in record time, Jack hops out of the vehicle and stands before you, spinning around and giving you a 360 view.

“How do I look?”

You smile at him. “Very handsome.”

He does, actually, for someone who just changed into a backup suit in the back of a Range Rover. He steps toward you, and you smooth down his lapels and straighten the tie to be perfect. Once you finish that, he helps you step into some heels you’d worn earlier, and once they’re on, you do a quick little spin for his approval.

“Look okay?”

He gently grabs one of your hands, pulling it to his mouth and kissing it softly.

“Beautiful as always.”

Once you’re both settled, you make your way to the doors and pray that you get in. Your heart is thumping out of your chest, and Jack's hand gently rubs over your thumb to help your nerves. As you get close, another couple beats you to the door, and you both wait as they talk to the two women standing next to a greeting table out front. They say something you can’t hear, and the ladies offer a bright smile and ushers them inside. You’re up next, and as soon as the other couple steps through, Jack pulls you toward the table.

“Hello!” One lady says brightly. “Bride or groom?”

You weren’t expecting the question, and your face falls slightly, but your overconfident boyfriend doesn’t miss a beat.

“Both, actually.”

The ladies smile again brightly and hand over a little brochure.

“That’s both the bride and groom's signature cocktails and the dance should be starting soon.”

The one closest to the door gestures to you both inside, and Jack leads you in, gently squeezing your hand again.

The inside looks beautiful. Lights are strung everywhere, and the decorations are tasteful. You bask in the essence of it, and you genuinely love weddings. You see a couple of signs as you walk, and you catch sight of pictures of the happy couple.

“Kevin and Stacy. We should probably remember that.”

You snort at your boyfriend, but you do make a mentor note. It would be rather apparent of your wedding crashing if you didn’t know the names.

Jack leads you to the main ballroom, where everything is stunningly assembled. Most of the chairs have been cleared, and a dance floor in the middle waits for people to hit it.

You follow Jack to the table toward the side, which holds hundreds of pictures of the bride and groom throughout their life. You see that when they seemingly meet one another, it mirrors very similar to your relationship. You smile big as you see pictures of them doing almost everything together. They spent their summers boating their winters by a fireplace, and there is even a photo of Stacy hugging her man after a hockey game. You jab Jack in the ribs as you see it, noting that he’s donning a University of Michigan club hockey jersey. Once he sees the photo you’re looking at, he pulls you closer and laughs at the small connection to his family's favorite place.

Someone clears their throat behind you, and you freeze. You both turn slowly to see a woman standing there, two drinks in hand.

“You two look like you need a drink while staring at these photos.”

She hands you and Jack each a cocktail, and your heart starts beating faster.

“I’m not sure I know either of you.” She pauses, a puzzled look crossing her features. “But you also seem so familiar.”

You take a deep breath, ready to be caught, and accept your fate.

“I know Kev from hockey at Umich. Back when he played club.”

You want to die as your boyfriend lies through his teeth, but as soon as he speaks, the girl laughs.

“Oh my god, that makes sense. It’s nice to meet you..?” She pauses.

“Jack.” Jack extends his hand to hers, and then she turns to you.

“(Y/N).”

She shakes your hand as well. You’re thankful she gets called away moments later, and she sends you one last smile and walks toward the group of women who called her.

“That was close.” You breathe out, then turn to Jack. “Since when did you get good at lying?”

He chuckles a bit and shrugs his shoulders. “I’m a middle child. I’ve always been good.”

He retakes your hand and leads you away from the picture table to look more around the venue. You kill as much time as possible, and finally, the dance begins to start.

You and Jack sit far away from the dance floor in the back of the crowd. Like everyone else, you both coo as you see the happy couple for the first time, having their first dance on the floor. You watch as they sway back and forth in their little world, ignoring everyone else and focusing on one another. It’s a sweet moment you’re witnessing, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty.

“I feel terrible, J I think we should go. I wouldn’t want to ruin their night if they knew a few strangers were here.”

Jack listens intently to your plea, and he knows by the look on your face that you’re already on edge and staying here won’t help.

“Okay, let’s go. I have to run to the bathroom. Are you good here for a minute?”

You nod your head, and he gets up. You watch as he goes and then force yourself to stare at the floor, which is now crowded with many attendees from the wedding. You smile at the people dancing again and count down the seconds until Jack gets back.

As you sit there anxiously, Jack goes as fast as he can to the nearest bathroom. It’s nicely decorated as well, and it seems to be empty except for one another man. Jack keeps his head down, does his business, and tries to go as slow as possible. Nevertheless, the other man takes his sweet time, and Jack meets him at the sink area.

Jack offers a small, tight-lipped smile as he washes his hands, and so does the other dude. He goes back to drying his hands when he catches the other man doing a double take, and a brief look of realization crosses both of their features and a sudden pit forms in his stomach.

“Holy fuck,” The man says. “Are you Jack Hughes?”

Shit.

Jack swallows and then slowly nods his head and swallows hard. “Yep. That’s me. I assume you’re Kevin? The groom?”

Jack half expects the man to get pissed, and he prepares for the worst.

“What’re you doing here?” A crazy smile cracks across Kevin’s face.

Jack thinks he could lie, but at this point, there is no use. So, for the first time all night, he tells the truth.

“Honestly, me and my girlfriend saw your wedding while golfing, and I convinced her to come and crash it.”

Jack explains the situation quickly, but as he speaks, a look of disbelief flashes across Kevin’s face.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, man, I’m sorry. We’ll leave now, and I can pay you for the drinks and whatever else.”

Kevin suddenly busts out laughing, shaking his head.

“Why would you leave? The old people are finally going home, and the real parties are about to start.”

Jack's mouth drops open, and he can’t believe it.

“Are you sure we can stay?” He gapes.

Kevin nods his head and gently clasps him on the shoulder.

“You could crash my honeymoon night and I wouldn’t mind. I’m a huge fan, and this is the craziest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Out of all the ways Jack ran through with what would happen if they got caught, this wasn’t one of them at all. They spend the next few minutes talking, and it feels like they’re old buddies.

“Just let me tell Stac, she’ll go nuts for you two.”

They leave the bathroom, and Jack makes a beeline to where you’re sitting. As he closes the furnace, he can see your worry etched across your face, and you look as though you want to die. When you finally see him coming, your eyes narrow a bit.

“Jesus, Jack, what took you so long.” You hiss.

He takes your hand. “You’re never gonna believe who I ran into.”

He quickly explains the bathroom story to you, and you’re hanging onto every word. Your mouth drops open as he finishes, and he sees the wave of relief practically roll over you.

“So now we’re invited?” You ask.

“We’re invited.”

You lean over him and throw your arms around his neck, planting a small kiss on his cheek.

“Who knew that being you would have so many weird perks.”

————————————————————————

Kevin wasn’t lying, and the minute the older folks left, the real party began. Drinks are flowing, and everyone in the wedding party is dancing their asses off. The mix being played is heavy on the 2000s hits and club music, and you’re loving every second. The minute you drag Jack to the dance floor, he knows his night is going to be wild.

Usher is bumping in the background as you settle your hips on Jack. You spend that way for half a song, and you love every second of feeling his arms wrapped around you. You’re genuinely on cloud nine, and nothing could be better now—only maybe one thing.

“I need some water.” You yell over the music.

Jack nods his head toward the bar. “You want me to grab you some?”

You shake your head no and pry his arms off of you. You quickly give him a peck and a swat to the ass as you walk toward the bar. You patiently place yourself in line when a tap on your shoulder takes you out of your daze.

“I take it you’re one-half of the wedding crashers?” You flush red and widen your eyes as you see the woman of the night.

Her evening dress is gorgeous, and her hair and makeup are perfect. You finally meet her stare dead on, and you think for a moment that she might be upset, but much to your surprise, she loops an arm through yours and pulls you close to her.

“I’m so happy you guys are here.” She whispers in your ear. “You made my husband’s life tonight. He’s told almost every guest that Jack Hughes came to his wedding. He’s never going to let this go.”

You giggle at the woman beside you, and soon enough, the line clears, and you’re at the front. You politely ask for water, and the bride behind you interrupts you.

“We will also have two shots.” She leans over your shoulder and shoots you a wicked smile.

As soon as the bartender delivers your drink. She grabs the two shots, hands you one, and loops your arm again to take a twisted shot together.

“Bottoms up.” She winks at you.

You toss the shot back, and the hard liquor burns down your throat. You laugh as a little bit slides down your face, and you wipe it away as Stacy suddenly drags you away, Introducing you to the wedding party.

Everyone is lovely, and you finally make it to the maid of honor, who you recognize immediately as the woman from earlier who gave you your first drinks. As soon as you properly introduce yourself, she throws your arms around you in a hug.

“You look like a killer on the dance floor; let’s go.”

Like that, you’re magically accepted into these strangers' lives, and you make your way to the dance floor with the rest of the bridesmaids and the bride herself.

More shots flow and terrible dance moves are danced. When you enter the floor with your new crew, you spot Jack in a circle with the groom. You mentally laugh at the humor of the situation, and you can’t help but love how the night has panned out.

Almost an hour later, you’re beyond drunk and still dancing with the bridal party. You’ve become fast friends, and by now, you’ve already promised to set two bridesmaids up with the single devil players you know.

It isn’t until the DJ gives everyone a little dance break with a slow song that you suddenly miss your boyfriend very much. He’s nowhere in your eyesight, but you nearly jump when someone grabs you into their arms and places a kiss on your neck.

“You look like you are having fun,” Jack whispers in your ear, pulling you in even closer.

You snuggle into his hold and find yourself melting. You love being in his arms; it’s your favorite place. Especially when you’re drunk, they feel like the safest place in the world.

With the slow song playing in the background, Jack turns you to face him. He’s got that smitten look on his face, but he doesn’t look as glazed as you thought he would.

“Have you been drinking?” You question, running your hands at the nape of his neck.

He shakes his head no. “Stopped a while ago. Someone has to drive us home, and I saw you take two shots with the bride thirty minutes ago.”

He chuckles and squeezes your sides, and you yelp away from him.

“You don’t have to stop,” you complain. “We can Uber.”

He smiles again, and a soft look crosses his face.

“Nah, I wanna be the one taking you home.” he cups your face in his hands and gives you a soft kiss.

The slow song continues, and you place your head on Jack's shoulder, savoring being there. You’re letting him lead, and he’s gently swaying with you on the floor. Many other couples surround you, but you couldn’t care less about anyone else in the room. If he’s near you, he’s the only person on the planet.

As soon as the song ends, he sits you down at the edge of the dance floor and goes to get you a glass of water. You sit at the table, drunkenly overlooking the crowd, and smile at the wedding around you. You love weddings, and you often think about yours. You don’t know how far out it will be, but you can’t care less as long as Jack is the one who asks. Though you’d never tell him, you’re ready whenever he is. You knew a year in that he was it for you, that he was your everything. But alas, you have school, and he has hockey, and you know he’ll pop the question when he’s ready.

At the same time you’re daydreaming, Jack is grabbing the water from the bartender and having one last talk with the groom, who also was getting water for his new wife.

“How long have you two been together,” Kevin asks Jack, nodding toward you at the table.

“Over two years,” Jack answers. “So a while.”

Kevin whistles at the answer, and a smirk plays on his lips.

“Yeah, a long while.” He nods toward you again. “Two years was when I popped the question. Knew I waited long enough, and she was the one.”

Jack snorts at the man beside him, and Kevin counters again.

“Is she the one?”

Jack watches you from across the way as you’re watching everyone else. He smiles as he sees you eyeing the various couples, flowers, and lights surrounding you. He genuinely believes you’ve never looked more beautiful underneath the dim light and the essence of love and joy radiating through the air.

“Yeah, she’s the one,” Jack says firmly, meaning every word.

“Then what’re you waiting for?”

The question is fair. You’ve talked about marriage, but it’s always been on the back burner behind your school and his hockey. You both have discussed how you’re both so young, and you have nothing but time to waste together.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m waiting for her. I don’t know if she’s ready.”

Kevin suddenly starts to laugh, almost uncontrollably, and Jack shoots him a confused look.

“Man, I’ve been watching how she looks at you all night. I don’t think I’ve seen any woman that ready.”

Jack eyes him. “Really?”

“Really.”

Jack and Kevin talk for another minute, saying their goodbyes and making promises to gold together soon when Jack makes his way back to your table. You are sitting sleepily and messing with the edges of the cloth table. When he gets close enough, he calls your name and hands you the water.

“You ready to call it a night?” He asks.

You nod your head, and he pulls you to your feet and takes you on your rounds to say your final goodbyes to the gracious couple who let you crash their wedding and all the new friends you’ve made in a singular, memorable night.

As you both leave the venue, Jack takes your hand, intertwining your fingers as you walk together. The cool night air feels refreshing against your skin after the warmth of the crowded dance floor. You lean into Jack's side, feeling content and happy to have spent such an unexpected but enjoyable evening together.

As you approach the Range, Jack opens the door, gesturing for you to get in first. Once you're settled in the passenger seat, he closes the door gently before going to the driver's side. Before starting the engine, he turns to you, a soft smile on his lips.

“You know, deciding to crash that wedding with you was one of the best decisions I've ever made," he says, his eyes meeting yours with warmth and affection.

You let out your millionth laugh of the night, feeling a rush of love for this man beside you.

“I agree. Way better than golfing earlier.”

With a soft chuckle, Jack leans in to kiss your lips tenderly, the moment feeling incredibly intimate and memorable with the surrounding setting. As you pull away, you meet each other's gaze, and nothing but love is shown on both of your faces.

“Come on, let’s get your cute ass home,” Jack says softly, his hand finding yours again as he starts the car.

As Jack begins the drive home, you lean back in your seat, feeling the warmth of the evening still lingering in your heart. You glance over at Jack, his focused expression softened by the glow of the dashboard lights. Moments like these make you realize how lucky you are to have him by your side.

The drive is quiet but comfortable, and you can’t help but stare at him. You, indeed, are in love with this man.

As you approach home, Jack pulls into the driveway and turns off the engine. The night air feels crisp against your skin as you step out of the car, Jack following closely behind, grabbing your things. Together, you make your way to the front door, the warmth of home beckoning you inside.

Once inside, Jack makes quick work of jumping into caretaker mode, and he takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom, where he helps you remove your makeup with a tenderness that never fails to make your heart swell. He fetches everything you need for bed, your inevitable hangover, and anything else you request.

Finally, once you’re all settled, he tucks you into bed with gentle kisses and whispered words of affection. As you drift off to sleep, Jack lingers for a moment and watches how peaceful you are. With one final kiss on the forehead, he remembers Kevin’s earlier words.

Quietly slipping out of the room, Jack heads to the closet where most of his summer hockey gear sits. There, underneath many stacks of old hockey clothes where you’d never look, he retrieves the secret wedding ring that no one in the world knows about. He bought the ring after only six months of dating when he learned that you were it for him. That you were then and were always going to be his everything. He’s been holding onto the ring now for almost a year and a half, waiting for you.

Holding it in his hand, he turns it over and reflects on the depth of his love for you and the certainty that you're the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. In this quiet moment alone, Jack makes a silent promise to himself to ask you to marry him very soon. He doesn’t want to wait, and he wants to start forever as soon as he can.

He gently places the ring in its hiding spot and returns to the room. You’re still knocked out. He smiles as he sees you’re dead to the world, and he tucks himself next to you under the covers. He almost dies of adoration when, like a magnet, you fold yourself into his side. You fit perfectly there, and he’s half tempted to wake you up and pop the question now.

He doesn’t, though; instead, he pulls you impossibly closer and lets himself think about how he’s going to ask you to marry him, and then eventually, he lets himself fall asleep, dreaming of the life you're going to have together.

715 notes · View notes

worldsover · 4 months

Text

Completeness ft. Yeseo, Mashiro

length ✦ 13.7k

genres ✧ gf!Mashiro, virgin!Yeseo

✦✧✦✧✦✧

There is exactly one axiom that matters. Mashiro is your loving girlfriend. All other truths are auxiliary. Yet, postulates exist that can carry weight to them and affect the system upon which this first and only truth is built. An example: Yeseo, Shiro's best friend, is something of a little sister to you both, and thus you make love to your girlfriend, and care for your girlfriend's friend as much as any guy should. For some reason, this unbreakable and absolute edict has been revised, softened, changed, and now truth itself is something that the two of them are… considering.

"Hey, what do you think of Yeseo?"

It's a Thursday night, and Mashiro's on top of you, her hand stroking your cock as she asks. It's not the kind of distraction you want while you're about to get off, but here you are.

"She's cute. Um, can be a bit of a handful sometimes."

"That's it?" Mashiro gives you a wry smile.

"What's with you? Why are you asking about her now of all times?"

Mashiro shrugs, but you don't believe it. She tugs down the neckline of her cropped top, showing off more of her breasts as they threaten to spill out of her bra. Between the sheen of sweat on her cleavage and the toned shape of her abs, that's a lot of skin and sexiness to swallow. Her fingers don't have to work long before you're fully erect.

"I mean, I'm just saying, she's gotten pretty hot lately."

You raise an eyebrow at her. "Hot? Since when?"

"Well, obviously now that she's an adult. And what, you think she's not hot, babe?"

You look away and groan. "I dunno, it's a bit weird." You're not even being political about your answer. That's just the truth.

Mashiro peels your eyes back to her when she takes your hand and brings it under her shirt. She's smiling like she's got a joke only she's privy to, even when you start pinching her nipples. At this point, she would usually start melting, and all clothes would be forgotten for at least another half-hour.

She doesn't.

Not that this is anywhere near Shiro's first time taking control of a situation, but the motive was always self-fulfillment, fucking out your orgasms to chase her own. Therefore, when Mashiro slaps your cock against her abs, you tense up in surprise and anticipation. She leans over to capture your shaft between her tits, inside the tight confines of her top. You thought that she thought that this shirt was too cute to ruin with stains of cum, but it seems like she's willing to sacrifice some clothes for whatever greater good. Her breasts are just big enough to make this possible, and while her skin is plenty soft and warm, she adds spit to the mix to make the passage nice and slippery.

"Ah, Shiro," you say.

Each time your tip pokes out of her shirt, Mashiro gives it extra attention—kissing, licking, suckling. The only reason you're not thrusting into her mouth is because she has your hips pinned to the bed.

"So," she says, "Yeseo. Imagine her here."

"Wha..." You're dumbfounded, and it's not just by how Mashiro's mouth wraps around the head of your cock. That's nice though, and you could probably cum on her lips like this—you've done it before—but you're apparently in the middle of a conversation and it's very hard to reply when she's working you like this.

"Mm, tell me what you think of her. Be honest this time." Sure, Mashiro talks about her best friend a lot, but you never imagined that she'd be so cavalier about bringing any other person up while in bed. At the very least, you'd think she would broach this topic with a bit more tact, and a bit less tit-fucking.

Where to start is a dilemma, what with your brain functioning at half speed. "Uhhh. Purple hair." Gotta start somewhere. "She's… smart?" You're pretty sure that's it, right? That's everything there is to know about Yeseo. "She's like a sister."

Mashiro pulls back, relaxing the pressure on your dick, and you're both disappointed and relieved. "What if she were a little less like a sister?"

"Shiro, what do you want me to say?" You don't get to see her smile, since she's back to sucking on your tip, but you feel it.

"That you would dick down my bestie if that's what she needed?"

You open your mouth to deny it. "Well, I—" The next word should be a word, not a squeak. But that's what happens when she sucks on your dick while its length is stuffed into her tits. Her lips fit around your girth tight and they leave you with a parting lick. Makes your breath catch. You think about what she said. The fact that you're still hard says it all.

"It's okay, you can admit it. Yeseo's got such a pretty ass now, doesn't she?"

Your first thought is comparison: you want to believe that your girlfriend beats Yeseo in every department, and that's certainly true with the heft of her breasts as Yeseo's petite frame has a way to go before being able to swathe your member how Shiro currently is. Yet, you think about yesterday, how your eyes kept traveling to Yeseo's ass in her leggings and how that butt could be softer to the touch than your girlfriend's. Could be. Could be fluffier like a cloud, fuller like ripe fruit, rounder than a bubble ready to pop, and you don't want to admit you would pop it. Not really, so you're silent and tense, so what could be, isn't.

Mashiro notices, and pulls away from your cock. "Hah, thought so."

Shaking your head, clenching your jaw, you ask, "Why does it matter? Are you gonna be jealous?"

"Jealous? Of what, you ogling Yeseo? God no," Mashiro says, laughing, "she's so cute and tiny, I wouldn't blame you." She pauses, giving your length a few languid strokes up and down her tits. "If anything, I'm the opposite of jealous. Curious."

"Is that what opposite—"

She squeezes her tits together with an arm around her chest, your shaft in the most loving stranglehold. "I'm being serious. Just think about it. Okay?"

You sigh. "Fine, fine."

The conversation dies and gives way to the sound of wet slurps, soft moans, and the squelches of Mashiro's spit lubricating her titjob. Your toes curl as the pressure builds, and it's not long before you're close. And since her understanding of what close means to you is atomic-clock precise, she unsheathes your dick in the annoying nick of time. You can only laugh after all that—for all the times she's edged you, at least they were premeditated, or for a cause like a sudden visit from her parents.

"Fuck, babe, really?" You've had an infinite amount of patience for your lovely girl, so you're surprised at your own exasperation. You sit up, but then she pushes you back down to the bed with a hand to the chest. You take a deep breath, now grasping that this is all part of her plan, and that you should know better than to mistrust Mashiro for a second.

Mashiro leans over, your cock in her grip, the other hand slipping aside the wet white panties under her skirt. She doesn't bother getting them off properly, adjusting them to the side to reveal her trimmed mound and the swollen button peeking between pink lips. She lets your shaft rest against her pussy, then strokes the two together. Each pass of your cock along the underside of her clit has Mashiro breathing heavier, until she's panting like she's just finished a good work out. The wetness of her juices spreads on your shaft and her chest heaves in her cropped top while you need prison-grade handcuffs to keep from thrusting into her.

When the pressure's built enough, when your cock's about to burst, you're forced to watch your girlfriend rub herself to completion, your cock still in her grip. She cums before you, like an angel crying out for salvation, her blonde bangs sticking to the sweat of her forehead, though none of that stops Mashiro from jerking you off through your own orgasm. You moan her name as your hips buck and her thighs clench and her hand works in a blur.

The moments like this are where you realize your notions of Mashiro have been challenged, over and over. Loving is not so singular in meaning as you had thought, because when you first started having sex with your girlfriend, maybe a month after the first date, you honestly were making love. When you'd cum inside the condom while hugging her tight, that's when you two were done for the night.

But now loving means that you paint her abs in milky white, cum pooling into her belly button, spurts dribbling over her fingers, and then coat her pussy with the thick river flowing down her stomach. Plus, since you're still hard, might as well use that as lube for the ride of her life. You're not sure how you manage to keep up with Mashiro. Obviously, how she eats your cum from her fingers like it's candy, how her tits bounce now freed from her shirt and bra, and how her cum-creamed labia grips around your cock are all great incentive to push through your exhaustion. But in the recesses of your mind, the one part of your brain that isn't fixated on her, there is a small question.

Small indeed. The same brand of small as your girlfriend. Five years younger.

Mashiro has gone and done it now. You're seeing the other girl in her face, the supposition, the thesis, your eyes blurring as Mashiro fucks down on you harder. Oh, damn, Yeseo really knows how to ride you well—wait, no. Your girlfriend's riding you well, her pussy milking your cock just right. Fuck. What the hell is wrong with you?

You groan, and you're not sure whether it's a cry of frustration or pleasure. Mashiro's face, Mashiro's tits, Mashiro's hips, Mashiro's tightening pussy, all of them are so nice and so warm and so tight and so wet and so every good that good can be. As if in that cute package of her body, your girlfriend has molded herself to be everything you need in a lover. She repeats the words for good measure: "I love you, I love you, oh, fuck, I love you!"

The same way loving used to mean something classic and rigid, taking her out to dinner or watching movies, loving now means that rigid takes on a different, more literal definition. That's Mashiro, growing as you grow, and in that way, you shouldn't be surprised that the topic of Yeseo—sweet, innocent Yeseo—isn't the end of it. Not even close.

Speaking of growing, the tension in your loins. Lewd, sloppy sounds intermix with a mess of Mashiro's cries while your hands squeeze too tightly the flesh of her breasts.

You gasp and mindlessly call out "Shiro, Shiro, Yeseo, wait, I—" but you're cut off by Mashiro's tongue wrestling yours. Unbridled want, unmitigated desperation, she kisses you like a girl possessed, and there's no room to protest and figure out what the hell's happening.

With no condom—it's been a long while since that—your load spills into Mashiro like she's an unwitting, impure bride, and by god, there's such a hellfire in your ears from her scream when the sin soaks through to her sinner womb. The pleasure blurs your minds, or more, her cunt does, and with the cum your dick oozes, the most you can offer when Shiro topples over you and collapses is a "Ah, mmh."

As your breathing calms, she lifts up her skirt and spreads her pussy, letting you see your second load ooze from her insides.

"God, I needed that so bad," she says. Her voice is breathy, but there's a smile in it, and she crawls over to you and kisses you on the lips. Between the two of your bodies is a whole lot of sticky. You groan into her mouth, and then when she breaks off, she starts to pepper your lips and jaw with more kisses. "You wanted that too, huh?"

You wipe away a bead of sweat on her forehead. "Yeah. Of course. You're so fucking perfect, Mashiro." You run a hand through your hair. "Oh, fuck. Right, I'm... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said..."

"Shh. I think I've made it pretty clear that I don't mind, right? I love you, it's okay."

You nod, laughing to yourself in disbelief is not some fancy dream. "I love you too. I just wish I, I dunno, didn't call her name right then, you know?"

She grins as you begin your cuddle. "No, no. That was fucking hot, actually."

"It was?"

"Yes!"

"No, really that wasn't right, I'm..."

Mashiro insists. You deny. It's a circuitous route that continues onward from outside of this bedroom—at dinner, walking down the street, at a sweet little shopping date where you and Mashiro were buying decorations for the home and she just had to get this puppy plushie for her best friend—really any time that Yeseo is mentioned, this conversation bubbles up from the depths.

It's one of those oddities, those quirks, the little humps in a relationship that eventually dies off and...

No, whiplash fucking snaps your neck in half.

So now you're here, in a room with your girlfriend and your truth-breaker. Mashiro sits on your lap, her breath so close to yours that you can smell the strawberry lip balm. Pliant, warm, she straddles your thigh while her hand travels down your chest, to your crotch. You groan into her mouth when she squeezes your hardening member through the fabric of your slacks. All the while, Yeseo watches, hands also down her pants. Too embarrassed despite the unspoken permission—goading, really—Yeseo keeps her fingers pressed against her clit, not quite daring to move.

It was supposed to be a normal day. Yeseo wasn't even supposed to be here. But Mashiro invited her, and she didn't kick Yeseo out, (which you would've done yourself, but it's hard doing anything when Mashiro has her nails on your skin like claws), and Yeseo didn't leave, and now you're stuck here, having your girlfriend dry-hump you and make out with you while another girl's watching.

It's like this for a while, a holding pattern, a cold war. Days. The first shot across the bow is when Yeseo leaves, flushed, and you rail your pretty girlfriend into the sheets so that the girl can't escape the sounds outside the room. If later, you somehow find out she was slouched against your bedroom, fingering herself to completion, then you wouldn't be surprised. Here comes the next battle in the next day, where Yeseo steels herself to watch Mashiro ride you, your back to the headboard. Then she sends the follow-up, bombarding you with her every fantasy while you know that acting upon it is this landmine, or now it's a minefield, or now the trenches are dug and all that's left is to wait.

Mashiro shoots the farmer's pig when she speaks up over dinner.

"It's just a handjob."

You choke on your half-swallowed piece of meat and end up coughing.

Yeseo looks up from her phone, then freezes. "W-what."

Mashiro gives Yeseo a wry smile as she gets up, massaging her shoulder. "You want to, right? So you should. It's okay, Yeseo." Mashiro's voice is gentle, and Yeseo nods slowly. Mashiro presses a kiss to Yeseo's cheek before walking over to you. She doesn't have to ask if this is what you want.

This is what you want.

Mashiro takes Yeseo to the bedroom, and you finish dinner before tidying up. You wash the dishes, wipe the table. Put away the leftovers. Count down from twenty until you tell yourself there are no logical reasons to delay the inevitable further, not with the way your pulse is racing, not with the way you've tasted anticipation in the air.

Once you open your door, you find your girlfriend holding the shirt collar of a willing Yeseo who has already crawled into your bed. The two are kissing—this isn't the first time you've seen, though it's the first time you've seen them hold it longer than a cute peck. First time you've seen tongue. First time you've seen hands under clothes and on bare skin. Never seen Mashiro grabby with her spit-covered lips.

You are quiet on your feet. Any sound you make, the creaking of the door, or the harshness of your breath, it drowns in Mashiro and Yeseo's obscene make-out. Delicious wet sounds burrow into your ears, the two girls slicking over and around and with each other, Mashiro in an exploratory mood while Yeseo lets herself get familiar. She looks flushed, content. Happy.

Mashiro acknowledges you by the doorway with a coo. "Just giving a little lesson." She pats the space on the bed next to her, where she strips off your shorts, your semi-erection right there for Yeseo to behold.

Yeseo wipes her lips with her shirt. You see her white bra. You think you can feel heat coming off the bridge of her nose. She stares like your dick's looking back, like this is the first time she's seen a penis that wasn't in a textbook diagram. Mashiro pulls Yeseo closer, bringing her between your legs; the furtive girl reaches for your member, then stops before touching, eyes back-and-forth between your dick and her arm. Even half-hard, you're about as thick as Yeseo's slender wrist, nearly the length of her forearm. She mouths "how" as her fingers hover a centimeter, this warmth a ghost over your cock.

"Here," Mashiro says, kneeling beside Yeseo. Holding her hand over Yeseo's, she guides the girl to wrap those fingers around your shaft and stroke it up and down. In your life, you've had lots of handjobs—mainly either self-administered or Mashiro-administered—but nothing quite matches Mashiro having her fingers tangled with Yeseo's, the touch soft with a little squeeze from one of them, not quite meeting any spots that'll make you squirm. You think Mashiro wants it this way, wants Yeseo to get a feel for it, find out the heft and warmth of a man's cock. It is, however, enough to get you stiff and plumb and twitch-happy, which is where Mashiro lets go.

When Mashiro gives Yeseo a quick kiss, you swear Yeseo tries to chase her when Mashiro pulls away. Then, you receive Shiro's next kiss. "I wanna see my boyfriend and best friend enjoy themselves," she whispers, before sitting aside.

You look back down at Yeseo, and you've never had such a carte-blanche view of the girl's face. Her eyes are big, round, chocolate-brown, the same as your girlfriend, but in them, Yeseo has this super-cute, really obvious, nervous lust that keeps sending a twitch in your hips. Her cheeks are soft and flushed red as you stroke them, squeeze them, press your fingertips in just to see how fluffy she is. She has a bunny's teeth when she gasps and her thin lips part.

"Hi. Hi… hi, hi." She's caught in the headlights.

You say "Stroke," and her pupils shift down to your crotch, the word a command that's clearly Yeseo's first. This exhalation out of her mouth would be fog in the winter. "Like this," you tell her, gentler, as you start to stroke yourself with one hand. Yeseo bites her lip and reaches toward you again. Your precum oiling the way, Yeseo's digits meet yours. At first, you only hold hands and smile at each other and feel out the moment before starting tender, guiding strokes. You have a way of measuring one's nervousness by cupping her hand in yours and feeling how she touches back: the sweat of your palms, her pulse through yours, this heat that seeps through the cracks in her fingers as she trembles.

When she becomes less tense, you let Yeseo try on her own. She looks down, head full of those breaths and some little noises she doesn't know she's making. Yeseo wraps her tiny hand around the base of your cock. She stares at it, at her fingers that don't cover your girth, and you wonder how long it will take for her to get used to it. When you think about Mashiro, you realize the awe never quite goes away.

With one hand in a jerking motion, the other palm wrapping around your base to act as an extension of the first, you like what she's trying—go wild, cute thing. A low growl in your throat lets her know that you find some enjoyment in the attempt. You lean back, spreading your legs apart to give her more room, and you close your eyes to savor the moment. With your eyes closed, you're certain you could tell the two girls apart, your girlfriend naturally more experienced, less afraid of your cock.

"Am I doing good? Yeseo mutters.

You nod, eyes still tight.

"You're so big, Oppa," she says, voice filled with wonder. "It's so warm. And the veins, and the way it pulses… is this really happening?"

"Yeah, it's real." Your breath catches when Yeseo runs a finger along the underside of your cockhead.

Her breath warms your cock, and you can't help but open your eyes. Yeseo is concentrating on your dick like the test's answers are on it, and the only way to get them is to wring them out. Sure, you've given yourself much better handjobs too, but there's something about her furrowed brows, her lip giving way to her teeth, that makes it all worth it.

"Yeseo-yah, try using your other hand to twist around the tip," Mashiro says, and you hear a slick noise coming from outside your vision.

There's an eep as Yeseo uses a second tiny fist around your tip to do just that.

You moan softly, weighing into the mattress; it's a good thing you're already lying down, because the newfound intensity makes your toes curl, and you find yourself thrusting up into her hips.

"Wow, it's so big," Yeseo says. "How do you fit it in Shiro-unnie?"

You draw in a hiss. "Hah, takes some work."

Yeseo giggles. "I can imagine."

You groan as Yeseo strokes and jerks and twists faster. Pressure builds up in your balls, and when you turn your head to the sight of your girlfriend dipping fingers between her thighs, you're certain you'll cum in time to Mashiro. Diligent, your girlfriend sidles on closer, adding some spit to Yeseo's hands, to which Yeseo responds by stroking you even faster. Mashiro pours more and more saliva onto your member, insistent on looking you in the eyes, while Yeseo's strokes get wetter, slipperier. Your grunts and the wet sounds of impromptu lubricant mix with and Yeseo's quickened breaths and Mashiro's self induced moans, a filthy choir of angels. Your balls tighten; the edge tempting to knock you off-balance.

But before you can finish, Yeseo abruptly stops. You clench and whip your head toward her, and you realize instantly by the look on her face that she does not know how to handle this climax part. Thankfully, just in time, your girlfriend has her mouth ready, lips around the head of your cock, and the vibrations of her moans tips forth the chain reaction of bliss. In awe, Yeseo stares as you and Mashiro unravel, your balls pumping semen into your girlfriend's mouth, your hips bucking upward as her pussy pulsates, a thin river of lust pouring out of her.

Even with every line in the sand kicked away, you haven't put much of an effort into convincing yourself of the reality of the situation. You've known Yeseo too long, too well to conceive of anything further happening. This was an aberration, puppy's love, a one-time folly, or you might excuse it as such if there weren't more mistakes—well, calling them mistakes implies a lack of agency.

"Just a handjob," you murmur to yourself, and if they're mere mistakes, then there would no point in time in which you could stop Yeseo from jumping on you and making out with you; and you're helpless when Mashiro brings your face between the young woman's ample thighs; and Yeseo kneels over you like a dutiful maid, mouth ready, hands working, and this is the result of a long-standing debt that your family's been paying—nothing, nothing to do with you being unable to say no anymore.

Looking up from the wet, messy patchwork of muted purple and blonde hair, of thighs squishing together as they kneel and lick in tandem underneath you, you realize that Yeseo has mastered her oral techniques in addition to the manual under Mashiro's tutelage, which has shattered your final understanding of Yeseo. This picture of innocence is much like the other picture of innocence in your life, and thus you should've expected as much. When you and Mashiro first started having sex, it truly was love-making, slow, sweet, vanilla, candle-lit, adoration-for-adoration's sake sex, something you started out of gratitude for each other, and continued because every time was an affirmation of the beautiful relationship you cultivated. Over time, you learned two key things: all her dirty secrets, and the fact that she only took your cock that slow because it was too big for her to be able to do otherwise.

("No, babe, I swear, I meant the love stuff too," she said.

You replied, "Okay, fine.")

The difference here is the speed with which Mashiro—and you, admit it; you are no fucking saint—have corrupted Yeseo. You estimate it'll be a matter of weeks before Yeseo's ready to match your girlfriend's skills.

Yeseo is trying to prove as much. While Mashiro licks your shaft, she leaves Yeseo your balls; while Mashiro is busy letting your dick knock against the back of her throat, Yeseo makes sure your sack receives enough tender sucking. When they swap places, you feel a pulse through your cock, Yeseo's mouth being impressively warm and wet. The only place this tongue of Yeseo's has been wetter than the inside of her mouth must have been the insides of Mashiro's pussy—and you've watched the damnable act, how your girlfriend arches back, eyes shut in pleasure, as the eager teen tongues her dripping slit.

That's the same tongue Yeseo uses now to stroke alongside the bottom of your shaft, your cock in her mouth, nose inches from your pubis. Yeseo isn't quite as capable of taking to the root as her unnie is, but you have no complaints about watching her struggle to swallow you, and you figure she'll catch up soon enough. She hums on your cock, swirling around the tip before bobbing back down again, happy to gag and make a mess.

And the slope is slippery down from her throat to her tongue, making saliva strands from the corner of her lip down the veins of your shaft, onto the floor where your filthy fucking girlfriend—lord, when did she get this nasty, this depraved—licks it up clean for Yeseo. You watch, mind blank, as Mashiro's tongue goes from the floor up to Yeseo's hard nipples. Then she continues along her breasts, till it's Mashiro's lips meeting Yeseo's again, and your shaft is jammed between their mouths for good measure. When Yeseo takes surprising control of your dick, your eyes focus on the sweet face that's learned to hollow her cheeks and flicker her tongue over the soft ridge beneath your shaft head, one hand working on the inch she can't reach. The only thing stopping Yeseo from gulping down your seed is the very girl who's kissing your shaft where it's free, taking your cock when Yeseo leaves for a quick breath. With the competitive swallow-duel going back and forth, it's inevitable that your girlfriend wins.

"Ah, thanks for the lunch," Mashiro says.

"One day I'll win." Yeseo huffs, but you can tell she is not mad. For as much as she pretends, her thighs are wiggling in Mashiro's face moments later, and she can't hide her smile so wide whenever your girlfriend's nose brushes against her swollen clit. She smiles even wider when you invite her onto your thigh, pressing that needy pussy down and leaving a trail for Mashiro to lick up.

But for all you've done in the past few weeks, one topic has never been brought up: Yeseo's virginity. Well, never explicitly—Mashiro has asked teasingly about it before, and all Yeseo says is "a guy in school" while her body language reveals that's the lie that it sounded like. Plus, whenever she watches the two of you bang, it's as though she's putting a puzzle together—how excited she gets during afterglows or those pillow talk sessions when you explain something or other.

As you gain a better understanding of Yeseo's every mechanism, you realize it's the framing of the situation. Act in the frivolities for the appetizers all you want, but don't underestimate what makes sex a nutritious meal.

"Seriously," Mashiro says, "if you've had sex before, you wouldn't be this much of a blushing mess. What are you getting embarrassed about?"

How cruel of your girlfriend to tease. Because as Yeseo says "sorry," Mashiro pushes her finger all the way into Yeseo's core, causing her to cry out. "Ahh! It, it's just that, I've had the plug, inside, since yesterday night! God, it's b-been, too, too much… mmnh."

"You're so cute," you say, spanking the girl on all fours. The plug is simple, black, silicone, and a hell of a lot bigger than her dainty fingers that you've seen toy with her anal ring before. You had taken care to see to it that Yeseo was neither in pain nor undue stress when it came to accommodating it, with plenty of lubricant, though you warned her that she couldn't remove the anal plug until Mashiro or you came to retrieve it.

Now that you've come to collect, you bend to kiss the cheeks of the girl's small, round butt, which jiggles as it twitches. Your tongue reaches, swirls around the ring of the plug, while your hand traces between her thighs to bring forth her slick. All this while, Mashiro's finger buries between Yeseo's folds, her cunt squeezes greedily against it, and her body pushes down on the object buried in her ass.

"D-don't stare. It's, um, dirty."

"Oh? Is it?" you ask while your thumb strokes Yeseo's anal ring around the plug. You pull on it, a hair's length, playing with her, and the wetter she gets, the more Yeseo trembles—the more she tries to hide her face and her screams into a pillow—the more she inadvertently thrusts her ass back into you. Inching further until the plug is out, you lean forward and bring your tongue closer to her tightest hole. "Then why does it look so tasty?"

"I dunno! God, this is so, so embarra—"

Yeseo collects the air in front of her in a single harsh breath, your lips sealing against her back passage, which tightens considerably from your tongue's foray. Then, when Mashiro supplies the same treatment to her friend's pink folds, you feel your tongue may be trapped in her hole. Fine by you. Your hands cover Yeseo's asscheeks as you slobber with licks and kisses, tasting her asshole like it's a last request, until her whines devolve into long, indecisive moans of wanting more and asking to slow down. Yet, her hips move as if to beg for more themselves, how greedy the woman. You laugh before you let up, squeezing cool lube onto the black buttplug.

"Ahh, ahh, ahh," Yeseo pants, "I need, I need more."

You are happy to provide. In another hand, you hold a small buzzing device. You trace it along Yeseo's pussy lips, weakening her elbows and knees—jolting when the vibe makes contact with her firm nub—damn near collapsing her as Mashiro seals her lips to the toy, ensuring none of its strength escapes. You know, from experience, a combination like that is bound to make a girl pass out, so once her hips slow down their staccato jerking, you steal your girlfriend's lips for a kiss.

Though every man who's made it this far in life knows well that every hole is good to eat, every hole's different flavors are treasures and miracles unto themselves. The flavor on your girlfriend's tongue is Yeseo at her very core, salty, musky, addicting to you; when you sample Yeseo's ass once again, popping the plug back out, you get a metallic tang mixed with the sweetness of the lube; lower you return, and Yeseo's cunt is spongey and soaked and hot, slick and oozing and a veritable delight to munch on, as the taste from the source is second to none.

It's an all-out sensory assault as you pull the plug some, enough so that its widest girth is right at the clinging ring, only for you to push back inside with a pop and a delightful mewl. Fingers and toys and tongues and lips alike massage Yeseo everywhere and overwhelm all her senses, her nerves tensing into spams and jerks of utter ecstasy. She doesn't even get the courtesy of oneness in her condition: each time you work her up to the peak, Mashiro is hungry for the next, pulling out all the stops to keep Yeseo climbing higher. Mashiro and you kiss, lick, push, pinch, fondle, stimulate, and the best Yeseo can do is squirm pathetically around the devices in her holes, her mind fucked straight out of her body.

Yeseo slumps down, shaking as if her bones were wrung out. After four or five or however many consecutive orgasms, and each attempt to catch her breath ending in her wailing, her crotch is so wet that you and Mashiro might as well be making out with a pond.

"Plth, pleath, please, mnh. Th-that was, was a little, little much."

Mashiro pulls her sticky face back to pepper Yeseo's lower half with little kisses, while you lick the remainder of Yeseo's juice from your lips. Cleanup takes a while, especially as Yeseo is too much a drooling, weak mess to help out—you don't mind, knowing this is all for her. Mashiro grabs a spare towel and wipes Yeseo down; once she's stable enough, you give her a gallon jug of water from the bedside stand and instruct her to drink up.

In the throes of this arousal, still breathing like air has never quite reached her lungs properly, Yeseo lays back and fights against the delirium. You and Mashiro cuddle her sides, squishing her between, and plant kisses all over her face and neck. Yeseo embarks on the road back to normalcy, thanks to the warmth of the two bodies, the careful embrace of loving hands, and your soothing words. When she's returned in totality, Yeseo locks eyes with you, her gaze serious like you've never seen on such a delicate, pretty face.

"So," Yeseo whispers, tensing up. "I know you've been waiting. You know. For me to bring it up."

"Hmm?" You grin. "What's that?"

Mashiro grumbles and reaches over to tap your shoulder. "Hey, this isn't the time to play coy."

"Alright." You face Yeseo. "Hey. It's okay." Sincerity in your voice, you bring yourself so close that Yeseo can't possibly miss your eyes and the warmth in them, you hope. "Whatever you're comfortable with, Yeseo. I mean it."

"Yeseo-yah," Mashiro says, her arms wrapping tighter. "You don't have to rush into anything. Whatever feels right to you, okay?" She glides forward until their kindred faces are so close they might as well be kissing.

A giggle permeates through the cracks in the wall of tension she's built. "I had no idea you two were such softies. Is this what happens when you date for so long?"

"Us? Softies?" You chuckle and cup her cheek, making the skin soft and pink. You brush her hair behind her ear. "Did cumming make you forget the past hour or—"

Mashiro throws a pillow at you. "Don't talk like that to our baby!"

That only makes you laugh even more, and as Yeseo joins in the laughter, so too does Mashiro. It's a while before Yeseo sits up, takes a deep breath, slaps her thighs. "I'm fine. Seriously, I'm ready now." She looks at you, dead in the eyes. "Oppa. I… I have wanted to fuck you ever since… since…" Her voice gets lower. "A couple months ago."

You try not to choke on your own spit. "Yeseo, you just turned eighteen then."

"So?"

"Yeseo." Your voice is calm yet stern.

"Besides, lots of other girls in school already lost their virginity!"

"And so you haven't, I knew it!" Mashiro laughs from the sideline.

Yeseo sticks out her tongue, and then her face turns serious again. She holds her hands on top of yours, as though drawing the answers from her fingertips as she thumbs them. After a slight pause, you give her an encouraging rub on her shoulder. "I just don't, didn't want to disappoint you guys. And I know we've done so much together, but sex… it's different. Means more. Like, look at you two. You're such a sweet couple, and I feel like I'm just budging between—"

"Absolutely not!" Mashiro exclaims as she joins in massaging the flesh of Yeseo's shoulders.

"I swear to god," you say, "you're all that matters in the world to us, right, Shiro?"

She nods forcefully.

"If we didn't care about you, we would have never taken you here, would have never let you in on our lives and intimacy. You could never budge between me and Shiro. In fact, I think you've made us better as a couple in ways you couldn't imagine, like how much happier Shiro and I are now."

Mashiro turns to kiss your cheek before addressing Yeseo herself. "We love you so much. And the most important thing to us, the thing that makes me the happiest, is when you feel good. So please, whatever you're worried about, we can work it out, baby."

It's all the truth, new axioms being built from a foundation of old, with your affection for the other girl unquestionable—enough for a lifetime, you think, that every day the three of you spend time cuddling or watching a movie is a day in paradise. Yet when you ask about the color of your world with this new addition, it becomes obvious how incomplete that thought is, to what degree you were underestimating the effect of the past few weeks. Here was this naive girl, this sweet doll, to whom the world was a painting of only shades of soft vanilla white. Now, it is pink, candy sweet. Now, it is red, a fiery thing. Now it is the burning color of sunrise, on her cheeks, from her ears, in between her thighs, and shall the colors subside, you gladly will rise up tomorrow to bring more.

Here comes the clouds, their tears on Yeseo's face, but they're joy-filled, like rain while the sun shines hot on a summer day. As Yeseo rests on her knees, back against your chest, Mashiro draws upon Yeseo's face with a kiss.

"How about this," Mashiro says. She steals the girl from your lap, pulling her into her own lap and embracing her from behind. "You should go on a date with him. Remember where we went the first time?"

With Shiro gazing expectantly at you, you reply, "Yeah, the aquarium? I even got you a stuffed shark there, right? Then we ate crab and—"

"Yeah! Take Yeseo there, go on a cute date and make her melt. You two can make it official. And while you're out, I can work myself into a mess and we can have the best possible first time. How does that sound, Yeseo?"

The toothy smile says it all.

The night falls, then another, as time slows. Gravity has changed. The anticipation for that Friday drags on, and the days are slow, sweet, long, tortuous. The three of you aren't even fooling around anymore; hell, you and Mashiro haven't... well, you still fucked three times last week, and nothing rough, but that's easily half of the usual, if not less.

But this new dynamic is not unwelcome. It's reminiscent of when you first started dating, before things became intense and adventurous. You cuddle in your bed under blankets and the moonlight and start to touch, caress, and feel each other's warmth. Mashiro whispers sweet things to you like "I love you, you're the best boyfriend in the world, you're so good to me." You run your fingers through her hair and over her neck.

Naked bodies pressed together, skin-to-skin, you can feel the warmth emanating from each other. She grinds against your leg, her wetness leaving a slick trail on your skin, and you grip her ass as she thrusts against you. Your shaft is hard and heavy on her stomach as you roll over her, Mashiro on her back and you on top of her. With the blanket covering you two, it's like the space is a tent and you're intrepid explorers discovering new continents, remapping unknown boddies. Your gazes become those of lovers finding hidden moons and suns in each other's eyes.

Mashiro grabs your face and kisses you, hard, and you return the gesture with passion. She lets out a small squeak, and it's a tiny noise in the still room under the cramped covers. You suck her bottom lip, nipping on it, before your tongues intertwine, causing her to moan softly into your mouth.

You break the kiss, and Mashiro whimpers, "Don't stop, don't stop kissing me."

You lean back and say, "Shh, baby, I got you." Your finger goes to her mouth and you pull on her bottom lip, drawing it down. Then you take that finger and run it down her body, from her mouth to her neck, then down to her breasts. Mashiro has a beautiful set of tits, and you love to see them bounce, jiggle, and move, and you circle her breasts with your finger, drawing lazy circles around them, but the way you love and touch her now is more than arousing; it's intimate as you treat her body like an adoration to praise, worship, and cherish her.

She deserves you telling her as much, in as many words: "You are the most perfect, beautiful girl in the world. Your body, your love, you, your everything."

Mashiro blushes at your words and closes her eyes, arching into you as your lips trail down to her chest. Soft, wet kisses leave trails along her skin, causing her to whimper and writhe beneath your touch. As your lips continue their journey downward, so too does your hand. Her legs spread willingly for you as your fingers hover over her folds, teasing and tracing circles around her dripping pink pussy. Your thumb rubs against the thin skin of her inner thigh before playfully dipping towards her entrance.

She's soaking already, the sweet smell of her arousal filling your senses, and your pecks if like a map of the world plot a course down her body, her ribs and her hip bones like signposts. When your girlfriend squeals and tries to push your face away as you lower your head to its final destination, you grin—it's like old times when she used to get shy and flustered in your presence. Using one hand to keep her pink labia spread and the other to hold her thighs in place, you finally lower your head to its final destination. Your tongue darts in her, kissing, lapping, probing, and, most of all, worshipping the insides of the cunt.

And the noises she makes are the sweetest little things in the world, little breaths and hums and keens and croaks that are only audible under the soft cocoon of blankets surrounding the two of you. Even though you're alone in the room, she's hesitant to be too loud; it doesn't stop her from expressing her satisfaction. With one hand on her clit and the other gently caressing her backside, you delve deeper between her folds with your tongue, eliciting coos and sighs from Mashiro. You want every moment to be this moment—your woman lost in the isolated woods of her pleasure, no one else to hear the tree fall but you.

You yearn to look up at your lovely Shiro, to watch her unravel in bliss, but the blanket obstructs your view. Thankfully, she notices and removes it herself, possibly feeling overheated from being enclosed in such a small space. You're grateful, because now the view of your beloved girlfriend is even better: her hair tousled from squirming around in bed and covering herself with the blanket, her face flushed, mouth open in a small "o." Her hands roam over her breasts, alternating between gentle cupping them and rough pinching of her nipples. Your gaze settles on the aspect of the scene you most enjoy: the small bead of saliva escaping from the corner of her mouth, the shimmering trail it leaves as it rolls down her cheek.

Her eyes, how they sparkle in ecstasy from the love and affection you give her, filling your heart with a warmth that borders on painful. As much as you could stay here all night, then all day, until the moon rose again, Mashiro's eyes connect with yours, quietly and meekly pleading, and you know it is your duty to proceed, before she crumbles on her own.

Your tongue retracts and you leave a soft kiss on her mound. You scoop her body into your strong arms, positioning yourself above her with your cock pressing against her stomach. Her face is so close to yours that you can feel every breath she takes. She wraps an arm around your back and draws you closer with a tug, hooking a leg around your torso.

This is the closest two people can get without actually being inside each other, yet your lips remain just out of reach. Mashiro's gaze captures you, as it has since you first fell in love with her in college. There's a brief moment where something unspoken passes between you both, and then her eyes close and your noses brush against each other. In the darkness of the night, with only the light of the stars shining through the window, the crescent moon appears in her smile.

"Hello there, dear," Mashiro whispers.

Your heart is caught in your throat.

"I love you," she says.

"I love you too, babe."For a few moments, your noses are the only points of contact, stretching into what feels like eternity. Then you realize she's waiting for you.

"Kiss me," she whispers, repeating the words over and over again, and you give in. Then you two kiss—it's with an odd, powerful feeling, like you're trying to stuff the world into each other's mouths, breathing each other's air, and the timing is right and perfect and good for the next stuffing of your length into her welcoming heat. Her lips and her legs tighten around you as you ease yourself in inch-by-inch.

Doesn't take you long before you bottom out, her grippy thing sealed around the base. You wait a while before you begin moving, your hands beneath her head, on the nape of her neck. Watch how her face twists from pleasure, to frustration, to a longing. As though you're both star-crossed lovers meeting at night and on the fly, she mounts you in a rush of anticipation and love and heat and she clings onto your shoulders like a lifeline. Your girlfriend's more excited than she ever was, and her breath runs ragged, as though the weight of the world is upon her—or you upon her, pressing her into the bed.

You drink in her every little moan and squeal while she clenches your bicep in a firm grip and you're on top of her and her legs split open to frame your hips. Thrusts into her like pistons in a steam engine, driving with force and energy, and so much power that the entire bed shakes around you two. All the while, you're kissing everywhere your face can reach: neck, breasts, nipples, all over her flushed skin, all over her skin getting redder still—and Mashiro loves it all, from the deep passionate kisses to the gentle tickles that make her giggle uncontrollably.

It's all so clumsy, like you don't have the years between you to know how to work together; maybe it's the nerves—like you're teenagers in the back of your first car, almost getting caught; like you're in your dirty college dorm, finding where the screw in your frame breaks and the mattress falls and you're so horny you can't find enough grip on the uneven sheets to get a proper grip. Or maybe it's because it really is just like your first time: not the location, or the rhythm, or the surroundings, or even the way her breasts jiggle when you thrust with abandon, but the all-in desperation, of thanking the past for catching up, or thanking the future for promising to get even better.

Back then, the first time you slept with her, it was like learning an entirely new language—like you had to keep looking around as she pulled you in deeper, the walls of her snatch tugging on your cock, an alien sensation like a vacuum, her sex threatening to suck out your very soul despite the awkward inexperience.

Now, despite the awkward rhythm and the need to touch and kiss every which where, the way your bodies connect is smoother. More meaningful. Hotter.

She kisses your face and cups your cheeks and makes quiet promises under her breath, "I'm yours, I'm yours, oh, god, you're fucking me, you're—ahh—so good, so big," over and over. You love it, how much she tells you, her voice strained and high and keening and on the verge of tears. Your nails drag up the sides of her thighs and bring her into another embrace, arms around each other, tongues weaving. The more it goes, the less graceful you become, and the less coordinated you are, and the more you forget the sensations and rhythms, and your animal instincts go back to clawing and prodding and exploring and mating.

How many times have you done this? You've counted them at least, the things they do to your mind, the way your girlfriend looks at you in bed. Hundreds? Perhaps a little under a thousand, almost halfway through the past three years, each time more intimate and delicious than the last. You look into her dark- yes and become stunned in love, overcome with adoration, unable to bear it as her sweet pussy contracts on your throbbing length and you push her into the bed as you both slip over the edge of sweet release—you cum together, spurting into her wet embrace, gripping her closer than ever before, and still you hold her and hug her. She's yours, and she will forever be yours, and that is why you and she still make love three times a week like newlyweds, content with the lazy nature of time.

And just like that, maybe, you can pretend like what's coming up with Yeseo is a first encounter, an exploration in the same manner that sex with her unnie was, from some corner of her heart calling out desperately to be loved the same way as Mashiro had, to that young heart you both did your best to nurture and coax into blooming.

You're standing in front of fish, alive and vibrant. Yeseo's standing next to you, not even up to your shoulders, beaming up at you in a hoodie a bit too baggy for her small frame—it's yours—actually, it's Mashiro's now that you think of it, so long ago when your girlfriend pulled it from your closet and decided she was keeping it. It used to make her small figure positively miniscule, same way Yeseo makes it swim on her. Her short shorts, however, are all hers, all that asscheek squishing out from under it, and you want to make it the floor's instead.

Cute date. Cute date. You turn your attention back to fish, all these shimmering sea creatures swimming around in their tanks, the smell of saltwater pervasive. Lots and lots of little rainbow-colored fish behind big panes of glass and the vivid blue. You watch, and they don't glance in your direction, which is probably a good thing because they'd see how embarrassingly nervous you are for a date; you're certain you can't handle this mix of sexual anticipation and cuteness overload for another minute. The air is dense, so sticky that you're practically underwater yourself. You can tell Yeseo is thirsty, a touch uncomfortable, and so are you. Despite the wet air, your throat's dry, all your senses tingling, every nerve electrified like sharp edges of lightning arcing through the thick atmosphere.

After buying her a bottle of soda (as she says thank you in the smallest voice), you take a sip, and it's funny thinking that this is the closest you've been to kissing in a while. You sip, she sips, and this repeats back and forth until the bottle's spent. It's like you're making out, in public, no less. You want to take your hand but she's off to look at jellyfish.

This little nerd goes around oohing and ahhing at at every new species while you wonder when did she get this geeky, overtaking Mashiro of all people. You go into the penguin exhibit, and watching her shiver, you grab her slender hand and intertwine your fingers with hers before placing your two hands in your pocket for safe keeping. Yeseo tiptoes and presses her nose into your shoulder, sniffling.

"Are you cold?" you ask.

"No. Smells bad."

"Oh." You ruffle her hair with your free hand. The dye's losing its saturation, though her still a brilliant tinted gray. "Good point. Say, aren't you feeling hungry?"

Here's the answer.

You're sitting in front of fish. These ones are dead, and delicious. Yeseo's sitting in front of you, eating guilt-free, committing grand larceny from your hand, all with a big smile. Unable to prosecute and in fact a perpetrator yourself (one count of corruption), you feed her, leave fingerprints of some red sauce on the corner of her mouth, and you wouldn't mind licking her clean if there weren't so many people around. She tongues at it herself, and visions of her licking other things pop into your head.

The visions disappear when she grins once again, wide, flashing her teeth. This isn't the Yeseo you've built up to break down; this is the Yeseo you started with, a postulate, the unbendably true and innocent one, a girl who likes hugging you and her best friend, and nothing more, least of all getting involved with the filthy sex you two have.

The pendulum swings.

"You know you don't have to use condoms, by the way. I know you bought a whole bunch, but… I wouldn't mind raw… you know, I trust you." All that is said without missing a beat, and you miss a few: blinks, breaths, words, choking on some oyster, and as she kindly hands you a napkin, she turns her head bashfully like nothing happened. "Tonight's gonna be so special, I know it. I'm so glad we did this, Oppa, thank you."

You smile, as warm as you can while your lungs are recovering.

In a park nearby, she's the one who takes your hand, swinging it back and forth as the day's bleeding amber into her skin, as her sweater becomes a blanket for her and her happiness. The dark thoughts push against the bright light of the girl, still fighting as you carry your Yeseo up a hill to catch the day fading away. On top of that hill, you kiss Yeseo like it's the first time and tell her you love her, and you hope that's enough because she deserves every part of the world below this hill, and so above.

As above, so below. The night falls. If the nights then slowed, this one has halted completely. The stopped night falls and the curse of darkness is a biblical thing because it will return you to dust from which you were made, back to where you started. These are the end times.

You're making out with Mashiro in your lap, and she has indeed worked herself into an apocalyptic mess for you. Her legs are wrapped around you, between her thighs as a wet spot like the flood, her hands squeeze your nape where your hairs raise, and god, you missed her kissing like her next breath must be in your lungs.

Yeseo, judge of the soul, eyes you down in the periphery of your vision—back to where you started.

The night falls, and it's a biblical curse of darkness upon the land because no good can come of it. There is an unshakable heaviness in the bedroom, like gravity has suddenly intensified. You're sitting on the bed with Mashiro in your lap and Yeseo nearby, her posture a mix of alertness and contemplation. You kiss Mashiro passionately, caress her body, run your fingers through her hair, and grasp her hips tightly to make her feel desired and needed.

Then Yeseo slinks over and wraps her arms around you from behind, pressing her cheek against yours and biting her lip while emitting a small moan. It's clear that she's uncertain about how to act in this situation. She hesitates before leaning forward and gently kissing your neck, causing your whole body to shiver.

What a stark contrast—the intentions and their effects. Your body acts on its own accord while your mind struggles to make sense of the conflicting emotions. But your arm instinctively wraps around Yeseo, as if it knows what to do.

Mashiro finally pulls away, understanding the situation, and there's a diamond in her eyes. "Go for it," she whispers.

Yeseo and you are two parts of an incomplete whole, and you sum with your lips, and multiply in moans. The bed squeaks, the sheets shift, and that which does not move becomes stiller than ever. Yeseo starts to grind against you, matching your movements. From the corner of your eye, you see her squeezing her eyes shut, drooling slightly onto your shoulder. When she opens them, they flash between desire, fear, longing, and confusion as she looks to Mashiro for guidance.

Your hand gently strokes her hair to soothe her, while Mashiro leans closer and tenderly kisses Yeseo's forehead. "What do you want to do next, Yeseo-yah?" Mashiro asks.

"I... I don't know what I want. I just want him inside me."

You smile adoringly at Yeseo and brush her hair away from her face. "I can make that happen for you."

"R-really? Aren't we supposed to do more...things first? Like...you know..." Yeseo stammers. "I can suck you clean again, or we can…"

"I think you've waited long enough, princess," you say.

Yeseo shudders. "Oh. God... just fuck me."

Mashiro's lips brush against Yeseo's forehead with tender affection, the warmth of their embrace palpable. As she moves down to her lips, their kiss deepens and they both lose themselves in the moment. You move behind the pair, pulling Yeseo's jeans down; she squirms in your forceful grasp. Mashiro moves to the side of the bed as you lay Yeseo on her back. As you throw her pants to the corner of the room, you spread kisses where they must go—along the inside of her thigh to her knee, back to the joint of her torso and her hip, your tongue grazing the skin above her panties. She does nothing to hide her arousal, vocal, flushed, all-in-all unrefined perfection.

Your teeth clasp on the fabric of her soaked panties, and you pull the clothes down, her hips bucking in hurry. Without breaking eye contact, you discard her last items of clothing, and rest your face atop her dripping pussy. Yeseo cries out, arching up in the instant your mouth meets her pussy, bucking against you to bring you closer.

At first, you take it slow and gentle, savoring every delicate motion that sets Yeseo off into a frenzy. But as her begging becomes more urgent, you give into her desires and increase the intensity of your ministrations. Kang Yeseo is like a leaking faucet, spilling out her lust onto your tongue and down her thighs until even the sheets beneath them are moist.

With practiced ease, you add a few fingers into the mix, skillfully bringing Yeseo closer and closer to climax with each thrust. And when she finally reaches the peak of pleasure—marked by a simple count to ten and a swipe of the letter Y—she lets out a primal scream of pure bliss. Her body writhes against yours, her fingers clutching the pillow beneath her head as she surrenders fully to the overwhelming pleasure.

"O-oh, oh god... yes," she chokes out. "Oh god. Fuck, fuck."

Mashiro has gotten naked during this, has started fondling herself, excited at her friend's exhibition. Yeseo only has eyes for you, though, and takes your head between her hands to bring you over and mash your faces together again. She tastes her own lust on your lips, her own pussy juices evidence of your hard work, kissing you and begging you to make love to her.

Mashiro approaches, drawn to the scene before her. Is she motivated by genuine concern for Yeseo's well-being or is it a voyeuristic desire to witness your lovemaking? As she presses up against you, her delicate hands reaching for your throbbing shaft, it becomes evident that it is the latter.

With a flick of a switch in her mind, Mashiro sheds all inhibitions and eagerly guides your member inside Yeseo's waiting heat. Slip into Yeseo's tightness, every centimeter a kilometer. Her small but eager pussy lips tightly compress around your tip, sending shivers down your spine. You close your eyes and can almost feel Yeseo's own eyes shut in bliss, while you can only imagine the hungry gaze of Mashiro fixed upon you both.

Her weight barely registering on your body, Yeseo digs her fingertips into your shoulders as she pleads, "Please… be gentle." It takes you back to when you first started dating Mashiro, and you reward Yeseo's trust with long, slow strokes that gradually stretch her open. She lets out encouraging mewls mixed with a single tear rolling down her flushed cheek. With each thrust, her pain gives way to gratitude and pleasure. From behind you, Mashiro's eyes lock onto yours with a mischievous glint.

As expected, she revels in Yeseo's discomfort—perhaps with a touch of wicked empathy or even a hint of jealousy at not being able to experience this first time herself. It's clear that with Mashiro's provocations, this will be anything but romantic and sweet. Your lips meet hers in a heated kiss as you pull back slightly before thrusting into Yeseo again. "You're doing so good, Daddy," Mashiro whispers breathlessly. It's not often she calls you that, but right now it feels fitting. "How does she feel?"

You respond with another searing kiss before murmuring, "Just like you did. Maybe even wetter."

"Oh yeah? You should fuck her harder to prove it then." Mashiro's full lips curve upwards into a satisfied smile as she watches you, her focus shifting to the girl writhing beneath you. You can feel the change in Yeseo, her body language shifting and telling you that she is reaching her threshold for pain. But her desire for that elusive orgasm is still strong.

As your hips continue to thrust into her, filling her holes with your thick cock, you sense the pain radiating from her body. But Yeseo is too caught up in the pleasure to call it off or complain. Each time your hips collide against hers, she breathes out "oh fuck" in ragged gasps.

The pace quickens, the intensity of your movements increasing with each passing second. The bed creaks and groans under the weight of your bodies as you both crave more and more. Your grip tightens on Yeseo's hips as you lift her ass into the air, pushing her body to its limits.

In an instant, everything changes. Yeseo's screams now come not from pain, but from overwhelming pleasure as you reach deeper inside her. Tears cloud her eyes and she cries out for "Daddy," shocking even herself with the pet name that escapes her lips. But hearing her say it only adds to your arousal.

You feel Mashiro's hand move down to Yeseo's clit, aggressively rubbing and stimulating her even further. Her words only add fuel to the fire, driving you both towards pure ecstasy. "You like that," Mashiro taunts, "You like Daddy's cock? Like how his giant fucking cock feels buried so deep in your virgin pussy?"

Yeseo grits her teeth and nods, barely able to form words through her pleasure-filled haze. "I do… please."

"You're a slut for my man's cock," Mashiro continues, causing a primal growl to escape your own throat in response. Your body moves on instinct, driven by a primal desire for pleasure and dominance."Such a slut for Daddy's cock, aren't you?"

"Yeeees..."

"You're gonna get addicted to this, hooked on cock, fucking you, and you're going to wanna cum all the time, Daddy's naughty princess, aren't you?"

"Aaah, ahh... fuck, yes, I love your cock, love Daddy's fat cock, aahn, aaah, don't stop, fuck me, fucking fuck me, fuck me like you fuck Unnie."

You love watching Yeseo's face as she gets pounded. The way her mouth hangs open, tongue hanging out, panting like a dog, eyes rolling back, lids fluttering, all in such a adorable package. However, you've been craving something else: that pert ass of hers. You unsheathe Yeseo's pussy to a line of girl cum, then flip her and scoot her towards you until her round rear is against your pelvis, and resume fucking her pronebone.

Yeseo screams into the sheets, Mashiro's fingers buried in her mouth to show her the taste of her lust.

"You gonna be a good girl, aren't you?" Mashiro asks, earning Yeseo's moan in approval on her digits. "Good. That's my cock, mine, and the only way you're getting to feel it is by being a good girl and letting him cum inside you, let him coat your pussy with Daddy's cum. Make Daddy proud, you hear me?"

When Mashiro pulls back, Yeseo speaks: "Yes, yes, breed me, cum in my pussy, make me a woman, I wanna be a woman, a woman who cums on Daddy's cock, a woman who cums from getting fucked."

Her ass jiggles in the prettiest way. Whether through the excitement or fear of having a pregnant belly at only eighteen, her thighs are shaking. Her entrance clenches tightly around your girth and milks your orgasm from you, and it's like you've become her baby maker and nothing more.

You wrap your arms around her. "You sure you wanna get bred, princess? You want my seed, every drop, to make you mine? You want to be an adult, that what you want?"

She struggles under you, her wet pussy giving way to your penis. "Yes. Yes! Fuck me, please, Daddy. Please."

Those are your last words for a while, that plea. Her asscheeks give way to your fingers, slipping to the puckered hole of her anus. You know she's been practicing with that hole, plunging dildos up her butt, training for Daddy's cock. Mashiro takes your hand, offering to lubricate, and before you know it her saliva seeps through your digits. With that, a pointer finger hooks inside Yeseo easily, earning a happy squeak, a bit of cock-drunk laughter at being doubly penetrated.

Anal wasn't something you and Mashiro tried during your first encounter, but you very well are familiar with the act, an intrinsic fact about Mashiro that few others know. Her ass has come to be both of your preferred mode of orgasmic expression, your cum leaving a filthy pool in her asshole. Now Yeseo's about to find out why. Her anus offers the final tightest barrier for your probing finger, slipping inside the dirty hole. In and out a half dozen times, Yeseo soon adapts, and Mashiro—being on the other side of Yeseo and facing you—makes a show of kissing her neck and palming her small breasts. Yeseo bucks back on your digit and cock, the clench of her two insides holding you tight and in love.

You're so lucky that your girlfriend holds no jealousy to speak of—at least not in her sex life—as Yeseo cums hard around your invading cock. Her body clenches at the multiple parts of her that you've stuffed, keeping you held firmly inside. Like a chain reaction, your orgasm is triggered, pulled in forcefully. One two pumps is all it takes, her virgin pussy a divine void, and after that first one you lose count of your inseminating shots. Her womb is full of you, thickened, and your finger pumps with equal force in her ass. Yeseo is mumbling into the mattress, a long nonsensical string of begging and pleading that only end once you're out of her, she can feel your seed inside of her, once the bliss of the last few minutes leave.

Yeseo is your fucking whore.

After cumming her brains out, the tired slut in her sleepily tumbles off. You're not done. Seeing that creampie leak out of her well-fucked cunt, nope, you're not nearly finished. Right now there's a much sluttier hole available to you.

Yeseo rests her head against Mashiro's soft chest, passing out as her friend embraces her.

"Shiro. Marshmellow. I'm really going to ask this with all my self-control, but is it okay if I fuck her ass. She's very tempting."

Your precious petal gives the brightest smile, you know, when she's so uninhibited like this, free to her own wicked whims. Mashiro kisses Yeseo's sleeping forehead, before looking back to you. "Aww, baby, but she looks so adorable sleeping yeah fucking do it. Fuck the shit out of her."

With a peck, you accept her permission. You spread the winking hole open with two fingers, then collect some of the leaking seed from Yeseo's pussy and wipe it on the entrance. Then, the lube: Mashiro with a diligent mouth, and soon a dew of her spit onto your cock for Yeseo's ass.

As you rest your wettened cockhead against Yeseo's anus, it spasms slightly, involuntarily, puckering further against your assault. Suddenly her eyes shoot open, her back arching.

"Good dream," she moans, and as you've learned, it is possible to fuck cutely. Because that's the Yeseo on Mashiro's chest now: cute. "I was... a bad girl, I let Daddy use all my holes, aahn."

"He's ready for more of you, Yeseo-yah." Mashiro whispers.

"Wha..." Yeseo is still in a stupor from her slumber, and so the shock is clearly visceral and uncomfortable as you enter her ass. Even lubed up it takes more effort to break her innermost seal as it stretches around your tip and clings to the millimeter she lets you go in. As she gets filled with your cock again, it doesn't matter how she had previously reacted to the rough pounding you gave her pussy. Your hand grabs her arm and keeps it in place as the half inch meets an end in the resistance of her anus' unwilling submission to your fucking. But she begins to thrust herself back on you slightly, and that helps, relaxing the walls that inveighed against your penetration. Soon you make another centimeter of progress, a centimeter closer to fully lodging your cock inside her.

The penetration is slow as time itself, but for a curious reason: in this single instance, both you and Yeseo want the process to take as long as possible, for this moment to stretch even beyond how fucking long you're taking to actually penetrating her. The lewdness is so beyond what the both of you are familiar with, your plunging cock filling her most intimate spot is perhaps the dirtiest deed imaginable, filthy and nasty and deliciously so.

Yet, she's still fucking cute—cutely fucking, when she looks back to you, meets your loving gaze, a pout on her lips, and a fluttering opening of her mouth. She eyes you with an innocence that has long since left her presence here and now. Of all the girls you've fucked before and this night, none have the spark of natural sexual goodness that Yeseo possesses. Before it was pretty fucking adorable, the eager virgin desperate for attention, desperate for an anal orgasm. Now it's not just arousing, it's something deeper: beautiful. And she wants you to share in her beauty.

"M-more." It's a scant whisper, her throat dry with anticipation. More than enough. You pull on Yeseo's hair and throw her head back, exposing more of her slim neck, to drive your cock with more force into her unbroken depths. Harder now, in: two more inches penetrate her, yet no outward journey is permitted, something else which you've prevented as you continue your rhythm. Your other hand trails down from her back to her ass, where your fingers lay, kneading the cheeks apart to admire your conquest. Yeseo is being taken, wholly owned. She's yours, belonging only to your pleasure and only to your pleasure alone, to feel the pleasure of this moment together.

You pull a fistful of her hair now, drawing her ear close enough to your mouth to bite gently on the lobe, to send a shock of exhilaration through her skinny frame. "You're a filthy fucking anal whore, Yeseo. I'm going to fuck the creampie out of this asshole. Just know I own you, and you need a real man inside of you. Say it."

Yeseo purrs. "Nnn, nngh. Nn, yesss, Daddy, you own my hole, you own all my holes, your slut, just want your cock always in me, fuck my fuck, oh, ohyes, godd, do it, please!"

Again you claim this sweet sin, and push on through to the end of her depths, till you're bottomed out in her ass. Yeseo wiggles ineffectively, fruitlessly, letting you work her anus on your girth.

"How does it feel, baby girl?" Mashiro asks, and you begin to draw your cock slowly. Yeseo howls and squeezes your member, her anus unable to take the stretch any more, yet unwilling to let it go. It takes the weight of a greater instinct for her to move her hips away from you. You help pull back, but it's equally mind-agonizing, mind-numbing, but eventually you come out cleanly.

Through gasping breaths, Yeseo says, "C-can I ride it instead? That, that was too much."

Mashiro giggles, nods. "Daddy can lie down for you, sweetie. Lay him out and sit your pretty little butt on him."

You lean against the headrest and spread out your legs, giving Yeseo free range to work your cock. Much quicker now she takes your cock inside, sinking down on the cock to an easy half. Then, Yeseo relaxes and soon her ass claps against your pelvis, earning a moan from you both.

"Wow, you're a natural." Mashiro says.

"Yeah, oh, fuck, I practiced, this position, oh, mmhm. On, haaa, on a toy. Wow."

"But, the real thing's better." When Mashiro starts touching Yeseo's clit, even more globs of semen leave her cunt.

Yeseo just nods to that, her eyes meeting the lord in her head, her mouth dangling open. "Mhmm, so big, s-so hard, and, umph, and, haahh."

You quickly ascertain that while Yeseo is certainly practiced in her riding, she is no match for Mashiro's experience. Here, you don't mind—the grip of her warm and willing walls wrapping around your cock, her pussy clamping at air in response. Your mouth, open and hungry, is captured by Mashiro, french-kissing you. She's a warm, comfortable presence beside you, watching you watch the pornographic scene of the inexperienced girl fucking herself like a needy anal whore. Yeseo, from her expression, is obviously getting the hang of it: her fucking is getting faster, the cock that enters her quickly leaving in rapid pace, her pleasure quickening in its growth. Yeseo bucks up, slips down, trying to give you as much pleasure as possible

Insofar as Yeseo can find purchase in her brain-melting daze, she's cumming so very quickly and so damn hard. Yeseo is so tightly gripped at your cock you can only imagine the spasms she must be going through. For your troubles, she sprays juice all over your abdomen. As if from the deepest part of her orgasm, her last shreds of coherence, an almost non-fathomable concept, give way to a smile, to a laugh. She collapses on top of you, her cheek against your chest.

"I'm... Daddy's..."

"Cum dump." You sit up, wrapping your arm around her back. "I'm not done with you, not until I've left my cum in your asshole."

She nods. "I'm your slut, Daddy."

You take Yeseo from the bed, and carry her over to the side, bending her over the nightstand, holding her neck and keeping her pressed against the wood. Her small hands reach behind her, taking hold of your shaft and guiding you into her anus. A single thrust is enough to seat her all the way to the hilt, and it doesn't take long before you're pistoning into her, her ass jiggling.

Mashiro's got her hand buried in Yeseo's hair, pushing her down harder against the wooden surface. She's a beautiful girl, your girlfriend, her pussy soaked from watching you use this other girl. "Make a mess for Daddy," she says. "Cum around his cock, milk that cum out like you deserve."

With Yeseo bent over like this, it's a tight fit for the both of you. But you rail the woman. No mercy. All the restraint you had when taking the virginity of either hole is gone now, nothing but raw need and animal instinct driving the motion. The wet smack of your balls against her pussy, the squeaks of her own need, the sounds of the room fill you, fill her, fill Mashiro, and there's no stopping you from taking Yeseo's ass like you mean it.

It's all Yeseo can do to hold onto the edge of the nightstand for dear life. For good measure, Mashiro spanks the slut. The slut loves it. She's basically humping the furniture now, trying to get any kind of friction on her clit, any kind of sensation to heighten her pleasure.

In this moment, the world could be falling apart around you, but you wouldn't care. You just want to keep pounding away at this beautiful woman's ass. Your hands grip her hips, and you thrust inside as far as you can.

Yeseo's breath catches as she feels her ass clench around the base of your cock. Her face is one of pure ecstasy, her mouth forming a perfect O shape.

"Oh fuck, oh god, aaaah," Yeseo cries out. "I'm gonna cum, fuck, Daddy, I'm cumming!"

You don't announce it as loudly, just a sharp groan, solid grip of her hips, pulling her down onto your cock where balls-deep you unload into her. Your second climax is no less powerful than the first, shooting rope after thick rope of hot cum into Yeseo's asshole. You can feel it twitching around you, like Yeseo's trying to milk every last drop out of your cock. She's gasping for air, her body shaking. Mashiro kisses her neck and shoulder to soothe her.

You pull out slowly, letting her feel the loss of your cock. A glob of semen slips out of her gaping asshole, a strand of cream down her lithe legs.

Finally, you're spent, the well of your lust and energy dry, the strength of your legs gone, the strength of your arms gone, the strength of your mind gone. The energy to do anything more than lay in bed is beyond you now.

Yeseo can't even do much of that, and you have to help carry her to the bed, where the three of you lie.

"Fuck. Is it... usually that much?" Yeseo asks, her fingers sliding between her thighs, feeling her sticky hole and slit.

Mashiro giggles. "No. Not by a long shot."

"You're so fucking tight Yeseo-yah, of course you'd get filled up so much."

"But, is this, like, how it is? Like, I'm gonna feel it for days?"

"It's not too bad, after a while. But yeah, you'll definitely be sore. I think I still am."

"Okay, Daddy." Yeseo leans into you, resting her head on your chest. On your other side, Mashiro joins in too. Yeseo sighs."It was really, really good. I... I knew it would be, but I had no idea. You were so gentle at first, and then so rough, like I needed it."

"Well, I'm glad," Mashiro says. "And don't worry. It gets better every time."

"Really?"

"Mhm. You've got a long way to go, Yeseo-yah, if you wanna get as good as Unnie."

"You're a good fuck," you tell Yeseo. "You've got talent, Yeseo-yah."

She giggles. "Thanks, Daddy."

Mashiro looks at you, smiling, and kisses your cheek. "So what do you think, Daddy? You okay with this being a regular thing?"

"I... yeah. I can deal."

"Good. Because next time, you're fucking us both. Together."

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AO3, AFF

#kpop smut #kep1er smut #reader insert #male reader

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gremlingottoosilly · 3 months

Text

Bouquet of (lego)Wildflowers(Loser!Yan!Konig x fem!Reader)

After you fell into somewhat of a routine in your captivity, Konig decided to bring you something nice to sweeten the pill. One time when he didn't got it right, and the second time where he got everything just where he wanted.

Details count: 3356 AO3 TW and Tags: Dub-con/Non-con, age gap, size difference, kidnapping, awkward colonel Konig, nerd Konig, hurt/comfort, Konig's POV(mostly), awkward German, yandere Konig, dry humping.

Courting a woman is hard and meticulous process.

First, you have to acquire a woman – preferably from a space that she goes to often, so you can immediately dissect whether she is right for you or not. Don’t go for a party girl if you can barely move in a dance and your liver isn’t the one of college athletes. Don’t go for a bookworm if you want your future wife(and this is also an important step, don’t be mistaken) to be able to put you in your place and then drink half a bottle of vodka. After you decide that the woman is, for sure, your type and you would be able to live with her for the foreseeable future, you need to step in for courting. And if you’re the type to zoom out during a conversation and stare at her hair(at least not her breasts, you’re already doing so good, you can have a cookie and a few war crimes for free), then your chances to court her properly are already slim. You’d be lucky if she wouldn’t call security to escort you out of the fine establishment you met her in. Even acquiring a name would be hopeless in this situation.

So, what are the next steps in getting a woman if you’re a 6’10 Austrian mercenary(a colonel at that) with almost 0 social skills besides yelling at recruits and taunting his enemies, and your callsign is also literally König, to make matters worse? You kidnap a woman, of course.

The problem is – König has done all of that. You and he obviously have the same interests, you are definitely his type, and there is no barriers between the two of you – you are literally sitting in his basement. Yet, he can’t quite seem to capture your heart. Your body didn’t stand an issue – if he wanted to, he’d fuck you every night and turn you into his personal fucktoy, all adorable and helpless…but he doesn’t want this. Not right now. Well, he probably does want to fuck you in every possible position, but he can wait. Can try to wait, at least. God, you deserve all the waiting.

He tried to bring you food. Nice food, fancy food. Sweets.

*** — What is this? You sit on the small mat in the basement – König promised he’d bring you a proper bed, but then he started to think that you’d get scared about staying in the basement for so long instead of wanting to get out and sleep in a nice bedroom, so he eventually decided to just let you sleep on a mat. Your knees are curled to your chest and you look like the prettiest thing out there. He doesn’t want to scare you, but it takes everything in him to not just scoop you in his arms like an unruly cat. He doesn’t want to be creepy, but, he is already keeping a captive younger woman in the basement of his house. It’s hard not to be creepy in a situation like this, right? He doesn’t want to, but…a lot of things are out of control right now. Well, not you – you’re in his control. Under it, so to say. Unfortunately, not under his body – not yet, at least, as much as he’d love to. König is trying to be patient, but then you tilt your head to the side and… She is so adorable, oh god, I can’t, Himmell, she is the prettiest, she is…He’d punch himself in the crotch just to get rid of the erection that is throbbing in his pants and threatening to erupt – but between staring at a cute girl tilting her head like a little bird, and punching himself in the balls König, surprisingly, would choose staring at a cute girl and suffering through his arousal. Silently. Really shocking decisions.

— It’s a snack. For you.

Yes, maybe, he went a little bit overboard. But he was just finishing shopping for his newest favorite thing in the world(you) with all the things that a girl living with you might need – pads, tampons, three extra sets of everything because he got too flustered to ask the assistants for advice, so he just grabbed everything that looked like it could stop bullet wound bleeding, and went for it. Also some clothes – he loved to see you naked, but a cute girl should wear cute clothes and, well, he kinda failed with getting you these ones – and pillows. Women love pillows, as he got from the social media some of his younger colleagues forced him to install.

Yes, maybe, König went a bit overboard for a kidnapper – but honestly, would you prefer him to just fuck you over and over? At least he is buying you deserts, at least he has enough to cover your needs, at least he is trying. You definitely should kiss him for this. It would totally be a normal behavior, of course, and obviously. — For me?

König thinks – you’re just as adorable as you are dumb. He wouldn’t have you any other way.

— For you.

— A snack?

It was exactly 4 boxes filled with cupcakes, little hand-made chocolate candies, and some weird, hipster-styled cookies without flour, sugar, and happiness – but he doesn’t know your favorite type of desert because, apparently, kidnapped girlfriends don’t come with a hand guide on how to feed them, and you already refused almost half of your meals until you finally succumbed to reality and started eating again. He wants you to be happy – not too happy that you’d start questioning him as your boyfriend, but at least happy enough to not be depressed that he forced you into the life of solitude. Which you, judging by the numbers on your bank account(he went through your phone, of course, saved every picture that could be used to jerk off and then smashed the sim cart so you couldn’t be found), could really prefer. He was doing you a service, really. At least now you can help him build Legos instead of just selling those.

— Stop this.

— Stop what? You tilt your head to the side, again, like an adorable bird that flew into the window of his car and got crushed because birds are, in fact, stupid and can’t see the glass. You don’t look too smart either – not with your escape attempts that consist of pleading with him to let you go, the action that only got his pants tighter and didn’t fill him with the desire to let you go. — You just repeating my words. You should eat.

You stare at the various deserts in front of you, looking like you don’t believe in his endless kindness and generosity. He understands you – he wouldn’t believe it either. He just wants for you to stop looking like a sad kitten that got splashed with water because you look to damn adorable like this. Too fucking precious. A man can’t even live with a captive girlfriend nowadays, she just has to be the most beautiful thing on earth and he is going to act like a peasant who shouldn’t even bother to bask in her presence. God, he is awful. And perverted. And a damn dog who, for sure, doesn’t deserve you.

— I don’t really want to…

— I brought you sweets. You don’t want it, Schatzen? You move your head from side to side, indicating that, well, you’re a spoiled little brat who has to get her butt spanked because why in hell would you be against him bringing you something nice? Women love deserts, right? Right?! — I…I appreciate it. But you, um…forgot to bring me normal food for the second day already, so…

Oh.

That’s right.

Scheisse.

*** Bringing you deserts didn’t work out – he did bring you normal food after this, obviously, he is a kidnapper, not a monster, but the problem with your loyalty and your love for him was still standing hard, just like his cock. Every time you begged him to finally give up and let you go, he’d spend an hour in his bedroom, jerking off to the memories of your pleading face. Every time you behaved like a brat, demanding him to let you go, he would spend two hours. It’s a vicious cycle that you can’t escape. Don’t want to, probably.

Bringing you fancy food didn’t work out – turns out, captive girlfriend needs to eat normal food too, just like all other humans, and so he went straight to the plan C. Plan L. Plan L would, hopefully, involve you getting a Plan B straight after.

— What is this?

He has the wildest feeling that he already lived through this situation. König thinks – hey, that’s weird, for some reason, you are behaving just like you did a week ago. So wild, that the girl you’re keeping in the basement isn’t prone to changing her behavior over short periods of time, right? He is petting your head again, making you squirm in his hold because of course you’re scared and nervous and just a bit dummy overall because hey, he wouldn’t hurt you, he promises!

With every passing second, he felt more and more stupid. What a dumb fucking idea, honestly – he went to the shop(online one, of course, can’t be risky with falling in love with another cute cashier) and brought you…stuff. Cool stuff, he thought. Probably not cool enough for a girl like you thought – for a girl that always looked like she is too good for this shit, for his shit, the of girl that probably wouldn’t bully him in highschool, but would come dangerously close to the point of indifference to someone like him.

With every passing second and your confused glare, he felt like just turning away and forgetting about everything that just happened. He already forgot to feed you on the previous week for a few days – he did apologize and he did bring you as much pizza and snacks and real salads (aka normal food that your empty stomach craved). He didn’t even force you to sit on his lap at that time! He is forcing you to do it now, trying to ease you into the feeling of his strong body around you.

König strands you on his lap like you’re an unruly cat – he smiles when you try to get out and only whine in his hold. He is strong, stronger than you should have anticipated – he knows he is big, but a lot of people tend to underestimate their opponents. Especially when said people don’t have a lot of experience in battle – König knows that he can defeat you with just one hand. He also knows that you don’t know this. Good for him, he supposes. You feel his erection throbbing in his pants, every time you jerk to try and get out of his hold, he only gets harder. You’re prone to notice that eventually, even that dumb little head of yours should be filled with something – but it’s almost like you’re teasing him, dragging your butt back and forth, over and over, like there is nothing else for you to do. He probably can get off just from the feeling of your flesh over his – he loves every second of it, knowing just how much you hate being here. You will learn, eventually. He is hugging you firmly, a hand over your waist – while the other is holding the box he brought to you. One of many boxes, actually – but he thought that maybe, since you act so sheepish around him, you could be the type of girl that only respects certain lego sets. So, he went out of his way(actually, not, since everything was delivered to his doorstep in like two days) to order you all possible lego flowers. You should like it. You have to like it.

— It’s a flower.

— A…lego flower?

He gently pushes his head down, kissing you carefully. Nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck like an overgrown cat – you swear you can hear him purr and it only makes you whimper more and more. It’s impossible, with him – you don’t want him next to you and yet, the only thing you can do is bite down on your sobs and carefully open one of the boxes. It’s pretty, really – and working at Lego store for so long, you know exactly how expensive this shit is.

You don’t want anything to do with it.

— I thought a normal bouquet would be too boring.

You’d love for him to serve you a bouquet of flowers with a tiny bit of keys from the basement as a special sprinkle. Knowing him, however, you will just get his dick with a bit of assault on top of it. It’s a miracle he didn’t try to shove his dick inside of you on day one.

You feel his cock throbbing against your naked ass.

Well, all miracles can’t last forever. A shame – you’d convert to christianity if a god would be arsed to protect you from the devil’s dick.

— I…I would have liked flowers.

You don’t even know if you’re lying or no. Flowers would be nice – anything to distract you from the psycho who has locked you up in his basement. Anything to distract you from the basement itself. A bit of color would make you feel less like a sad beige baby and more like a sad beige adult. Or a regular office worker.

— Okay. I will…will bring you flowers next time.

You tilt your head to the side, obviously not quite believing him. Honestly, König is quite frustrated with your attitude. While yes, he did forget to feed you quite a few times, was also caught jerking off to your sleeping form on more than one occasion, and also forced you to listen to his rants about Austrian gun laws(this is how you found out you were in Austria, somewhere not far from the border), he was still a good owner. He brings you things, he brings you clothes – his ones, but you must admit that you look freaking adorable in his shirts. You should be a bit more grateful than this.

You move your butt again, your precious pussy just mere centimeters away from his cock – he swears to god you are heated from the interaction, and your puffy lower lips are leaking something on the rough material of his pants. You don’t want to arouse him, it’s only obvious, but you’re still moving your soft hips around and he is still a man who can get just listening to your voice talking about the total and whether he has a card or not. He is a pervert and you’re weak enough to not be able to escape from his lap. Experimentally, he rocked his hips back and forth, his cock pressing on your cheeks once again. Oh, he quite liked that. He and his dick both, that is. You wouldn’t be too bothered if he weren’t entering you, right? He can save the meetup for later. — Play with the set for now, ja? You fulp, your fingers shaking as you slowly open the box. It’s wildflowers – cute, really. You like it, if he isn’t mistaking the dull gleam in your eyes for something else. maybe, you’re thinking you can attack him with some of the sets – maybe, you’re planning to toss them across the room and turn the whole basement into a minefield. He wouldn’t lie, stepping on lego is still somehow worse than getting shot – but you shouldn’t know this. You’re a pretty, domesticated civilian, and he wants to keep you with him for as long as possible. You read the instruction carefully as he proceed to hammer his cock into the softness of your body, your cunt only protected by his jeans. It’s painful, to have his cockhead slam against the zip every time he tried to hammer it into your pussy – but there is a lesson in masochism around here, somewhere, and König never said he wasn’t affected by a mix of school bullying and mommy issues. There is something freeing in pain, with every pathetic whimper he lets go of – with every sound that only a loser like him would make.

He’d thought you were above it, above everything – but every time he rocks his hips, he can feel you getting wetter, the uneven tent in his crotch slamming against your clit. You want to release just as much as he does – even if you’re trying to cover it by building the set he bought for you. König thinks – if he could do this with you each time, he would buy the whole fucking shop, even the Minecraft ones. König wonders what would it take for you to suck his cock while he is finishing building the other sets he bought.

— D…do you know that… He takes his time to breathe, each word ending with a shallow breath and a low whistle as he proceeds to use your hips for his pleasure – as he finally unzips his pants and his cock almost sprawling free, leaking precum on his boxers. You whimper when you feel the heat much closer to your naked pussy, but König simply bites your neck again, whispering the words into the mark blossoming on your soft skin.

— First products from Lego were actually wo…Scheiise, you’re so fucking hot – wooden toys. You don’t understand how, but your pussy is getting wetter when you hear that eagerness in his voice. The desire to share this fact with you – this guy might be a crazy kidnapper, but you feel so much of a cute loser energy from him, you almost don’t want to stab him with a flower you’re making. You probably won’t. It’s best to keep him sated and calm, so he won’t force anything too much on you.

You ignore the throbbing in your pussy that intensifies each time he presses on your clit.

— Really?

— They didn’t got into making plastic cubes until after World War Two. They first made trucks that could be assembled and taken by pieces, but then… You hate yourself for it, but you’re actually listening to him. He has a way with words that makes everything more interesting, and there is nothing better to do – you concentrate on the sound of his voice so you won’t have to listen to the wet sounds of your pussy squelching on his crotch.

— They started to make…normal sets?

You know this – you remember the story, really, all workers at Lego had to know the history in case some adorable child would ask them. It’s almost cute, how König deliberately mansplains everything to you – you can fall into a steady rhythm of listening to his voice, while failing to notice that you started to move your butt on your own. Spreading your wetness across his boxers, feeling like a slut who is getting off her kidnapper touching her…seriously, this is so fucked up. You should be ashamed of yourself, but you just now and push your head back, against his chest. He would probably let you go for a while after this. He is always embarrassed after jerking off at your body.

— Ja. They even copyrighted the sound of blocks clicking together. You knew this was a thing, Schatzen? That everything clicks together with a certain detail?

— Yeah. They, um…taught us this in the first week.

— Oh.

He goes quiet for a few minutes, only the sounds of his ragged breath and the squeals of your pussy remaining in the room. You whimper when he drags you a bit harsher when he bites you in the shoulder with a low groan. You feel the added wetness on your pussy lips and you recognize that he came – in his boxers, you’d say like a loser, but, then again, you came too. He drags you to the mattress after, hugging you softly. Hand against your stomach again, the combined wetness of you and him made your face scrunch in discomfort.

You’re certainly a pair of losers. Match made in heaven.

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