u/Blahkchan

I need a prompts for erotic horror. Anything that can come in mind, ghosts, demons, abandoned building, anything mixed with good smut. Do your best!

DC-inspired prompt by u/SnooWords1252 , hope you all have a good read. If you want, I'd love to make a continuation of this!

The private jet cut through golden clouds, its cabin more five-star lounge than aircraft. Plush leather seats, polished wood trim, and a fully stocked bar that none of them had touched yet. Wonder Woman didn't do anything halfway.

Barbara Gordon sat rigid in her seat, fingers dancing across a tablet, eyes flickering between reports and alerts. Gotham never slept, which meant she never stopped working.

"You're going to give yourself wrinkles, Babs."

Dinah Lance leaned across the aisle, a glass of sparkling water in hand, watching her friend with amused concern. Her blonde hair was down for once, no fishnets, no leather, just soft jeans and a tank top. Vacation mode.

"I'm fine," Barbara muttered, not looking up.

"You've said that seventeen times in the last hour. I counted."

"Maybe you should find a hobby that isn't counting my stress responses."

Dinah smirked. "Touchy."

Across from them, Kara Zor-El sat cross-legged in an oversized seat, floating an inch above the cushion. She watched the two of them like a sitcom, chin propped on her hand, blue eyes bright with amusement.

"You two are adorable," she said, grinning.

Barbara shot her a look. "We're not adorable."

"A little bit," Dinah admitted, nudging Barbara's arm. "Come on. When's the last time you took a day off?"

Barbara's silence was answer enough.

Kara stretched, still floating slightly above her seat. "Honestly, I'm just curious about the whole thing. I mean, Diana? Inviting us? To Themyscira?"

Barbara finally looked up from her tablet. "She said it was a girls' weekend."

"Exactly." Kara's grin widened. "Diana doesn't do casual. Everything with the Amazons is ceremony and tradition and meaning. You don't just pop over to Paradise Island for brunch."

Dinah swirled her water. "She's got a point. Amazons have been isolated for what, three thousand years? Longer?"

"Something like that," Barbara said. "Records vary. But yeah, millennia."

Kara tilted her head. "So what did they do all that time? No men. No outsiders. Just women on an island forever?"

"Built a civilization," Dinah offered. "Art, philosophy, warfare, architecture."

"I get that part," Kara interrupted, waving a hand. "But I mean personally. You know?" She wiggled her eyebrows.

Dinah laughed. Barbara pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Kara."

"What? It's a valid question! Thousands of years, no men, only women, you're telling me nobody got curious?"

Dinah leaned back, smirking. "Actually, I've wondered the same thing. Amazon culture is old. Like, really old. They've had forever to figure out stuff."

Barbara raised an eyebrow. "Stuff?"

"Intimate stuff," Kara said, deadpan.

Dinah nodded slowly. "Companionship. Relationships. Whatever you want to call it."

Kara leaned forward. "And Diana's been our friend for years and she never talks about it. Not once. That's suspicious, right?"

Barbara stared at them both. "We're not going to Paradise Island to interrogate Amazons about their love lives."

"Nobody said interrogate," Dinah shrugged. "Just ask. Casually."

Kara floated higher, beaming. "I'm just saying, if anyone knows, it's Diana. And she did invite us."

Kara couldn't help herself. She burst out laughing, floating even higher now, her feet dangling above the seat.

"Come on, you guys. An island full of warrior women. For thousands of years. No men allowed. Ever." She counted on her fingers. "Swords. Armor. Wrestling. Bathing together. You're telling me nothing happened?"

Dinah snorted into her water.

Barbara set her tablet down with a deliberate click. "That's a stereotype, Kara."

"It's math, Babs."

"It's not." Barbara sat up straighter. "The Amazons built an entire civilization. Philosophy, science, art, governance. They're one of the most advanced cultures in history. Reducing that to."

"Nobody's reducing anything," Kara said, still grinning. "I'm just saying, statistically speaking."

"There are no statistics on this."

Dinah raised a finger. "Actually, there might be. Amazon archives are supposedly massive."

"Not helping, Dinah."

"What?" Dinah shrugged innocently. "I'm just saying, if Kara asks nicely, maybe Hippolyta will pull out some scrolls."

Kara nodded solemnly. "For research purposes."

Barbara rubbed her temples. "They could be asexual. They could be aromantic. They could have relationships we don't have categories for. Ancient Greek culture didn't even define sexuality the way we do."

Kara blinked. "So lesbians."

"Not necessarily lesbians."

Dinah leaned toward Kara conspiratorially. "She's defending them because she has a crush on Diana."

Barbara's face went red. "I do not."

Kara gasped, delighted. "Oh my gods, you do."

"I do not. I respect her as a colleague and a friend."

"Colleague," Kara repeated, mouthing it to Dinah like it was the funniest word she'd ever heard.

Dinah grinned. "Smooth, Babs. Very professional."

The jet touched down on a narrow strip of cracked ancient stone barely visible beneath overgrown vines and wild orchids. Jungle pressed in from every side, thick, green, alive with birdsong and the distant rush of waterfalls. Steam rose from the warm pavement as the engines wound down.

One by one, they stepped onto the ramp.

Dinah breathed deep. "Smells like heaven."

Kara squinted through the canopy. "Is that a waterfall?"

Barbara tucked her tablet into her bag, already sweating in the tropical heat. "Could've warned us about the humidity."

"Would've ruined the surprise."

Diana stepped from the tree line like she'd grown from the island itself. Tall, bronze, impossibly regal. She wore the classic Amazon garb, a white chiton bound at one shoulder, leather sandals laced to her knees, a golden bracer on each wrist. Her dark hair fell loose past her shoulders, crowned with a simple circlet.

She opened her arms.

"Welcome to Themyscira, sisters."

Dinah walked straight into the hug. "Di. You look amazing."

"It is good to see you, Dinah." Diana held her warmly, then turned. "Kara."

Kara floated down and practically tackled her. "Diana! I missed you!"

"Easy," Diana laughed, catching her. "You nearly knocked me into the jungle."

Barbara approached last, straightening her glasses. "Diana. Thank you for the invite."

Diana's eyes softened. She pulled Barbara into a gentle embrace. "You work too hard, Barbara. I'm glad you came."

Barbara stiffened for half a second, then relaxed. "Yeah. Me too."

Diana gestured toward the path behind her, where stone steps carved into the hillside descended through flowering trees. Beyond them, glimpses of marble columns and terracotta rooftops glowed in the afternoon sun.

"Come. The others are waiting. There is food, wine, and hot springs prepared."

Dinah nudged Kara. "Hot springs."

Kara's eyes went wide. "I have so many questions."

Barbara muttered under her breath. "Here we go."

The path wound through jungle so thick the sunlight came in golden strips between the leaves. Ancient stone blocks lined the way, carved with symbols older than any language Barbara recognized.

Diana walked ahead, gesturing gracefully. "Themyscira has changed little since its founding. The main city sits in the valley ahead, temples, libraries, training grounds. The outer villages extend toward the coast. Fishing, farming, weaving."

"Fascinating," Barbara said flatly, fanning herself with her hand. Her shirt clung to her back. Sweat traced her neck. Gotham was never this warm. Gotham had air conditioning.

Dinah wasn't listening. She'd fallen behind with Kara, both of them watching a group of Amazons pass on a side path, tall, muscular women carrying baskets and laughing together. One had her arm casually around another's waist.

Dinah elbowed Kara. "See that?"

Kara whispered. "Waist. Arm. Waist."

"Girlfriend behavior."

"Definitely girlfriend behavior."

Kara bit her lip. "Oh my gods. They're all like this aren't they?"

Dinah scanned ahead. Two Amazons sat beneath a fig tree, heads close together, one braiding the other's hair. Another pair walked hand in hand toward a fountain.

"Dinah." Kara grabbed her arm. "The hair braiding. That's intimate."

"That's foreplay in ancient Greek culture," Dinah whispered back.

"You don't know that."

"Neither do you."

"Exactly. We need to investigate."

Barbara glanced back, catching their whispers. "Whatever you two are scheming, stop."

"We're admiring the architecture," Kara said innocently.

Dinah nodded. "Cultural appreciation."

Barbara groaned and turned back to Diana. "How far to the village?"

Diana smiled. "Eager?"

"Eager to stop sweating."

Diana laughed softly. "Soon, I promise. There is shade and cold wine waiting."

Behind them, Kara leaned into Dinah. "Bet there's only one bed in every hut."

Dinah covered her mouth. "Stop."

"I'm just saying. Amazon efficiency."

The village opened up suddenly, a broad circle of marble huts and stone pavilions clustered around a central fire pit. Wreaths of dried flowers hung from wooden posts. Woven blankets covered the ground in colorful patterns. The fire pit sat dark and cold in the afternoon sun, a ring of smooth stones surrounding ash that hadn't been touched.

"Too warm for fire," Diana explained, gesturing for them to sit. "Tonight, perhaps."

They settled onto the blankets. Barbara immediately sprawled, letting the shade of a nearby olive tree cover her. Dinah sat cross-legged beside her. Kara folded her legs beneath her, still scanning the village with wide curious eyes.

A few Amazons noticed the newcomers. One paused mid-step, carrying a basket of figs. Another looked up from where she sharpened a blade. Slowly, curiously, they drifted over, sitting down without invitation, as if pulled by instinct.

Diana smiled at them. "My sisters. These are my friends from the outside world. Barbara. Dinah. Kara."

The Amazons nodded. One, broad-shouldered with short dark hair, offered the fig basket. "Eat."

Barbara took one gratefully. "Thank you."

Dinah smiled. "Thanks."

Kara waved. "Hi! Love what you've done with the island."

Diana continued, her voice warm. "We do not receive outsiders often. Themyscira is closed to most. But when we do welcome guests." She gestured around at the blankets, the food already being brought, the Amazons gathering closer. "We welcome them fully. Openly. We share what we have. Food, wine, stories, warmth."

Dinah raised an eyebrow. "How warmly?"

Diana's eyes glinted. "Very warmly. Amazons believe hospitality is sacred. A guest is a gift from the gods. We honor that."

Kara leaned toward Dinah. "Very warmly," she repeated silently, mouthing the words.

Barbara closed her eyes. "Don't."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it."

Diana caught the exchange. Her eyes flicked between Kara and Dinah, then to Barbara's flushed face. A slow knowing smile spread across her lips.

She nodded.

"You are wondering about intimacy here."

Barbara sat up. "Diana, you don't have to."

"Barbara." Diana's voice was calm, unhurried. "On Themyscira, pleasure is not hidden. It is not shameful. It is not whispered about behind closed doors."

The Amazons sitting nearby didn't flinch. Didn't giggle. Didn't look away. They simply listened, as if Diana were discussing the weather.

Diana continued. "The gods blessed us with bodies capable of great joy. To deny that joy would be an insult to them. We celebrate pleasure the same way we celebrate strength, wisdom, art."

Kara's mouth fell open. Dinah leaned forward.

"So." Dinah started carefully. "When you said you welcome guests warmly."

"In every way they wish to be welcomed," Diana said simply. "If a guest desires companionship, we provide it. If they desire solitude, we respect that too. But pleasure, physical pleasure, is as natural here as eating. Sleeping. Breathing."

Kara whispered to Dinah. "I told you."

Barbara buried her face in her hands. "I need wine."

Diana laughed softly. "That can be arranged."

The sun had long since dipped behind the jungle canopy. The fire crackled and popped, casting warm orange light across their faces. Empty wine amphorae lay scattered around them. The other Amazons had drifted off hours ago, leaving the four of them alone in the glow.

Barbara was the worst off. She sat slumped against a log, cheeks flushed, glass tilting dangerously in her hand. "I'm just saying, statistically, Gotham men are the worst."

"You say that about every city," Dinah mumbled, lying flat on her back staring at stars. Her words were soft, lazy. She was warm-drunk, comfortable-drunk. Not sloppy like Barbara.

"Because it's true."

Diana sat cross-legged, elegant even with a slight flush on her bronze cheeks. She held her cup steady. Thousands of years of practice. She sipped quietly, watching them.

"What about you, Di?" Kara asked, curled up against a blanket, chin resting on her knees. "You ever date anyone? Out there?"

Diana considered. "I have loved. Yes."

Dinah lifted her head. "Seriously? You never told us."

"It was complicated. Brief. He was a pilot."

Barbara groaned. "Of course. A pilot."

"They rarely last," Diana said softly. "Mortals and immortals. The math does not favor us."

Silence. Fire popped.

Dinah sat up slowly. "Ollie was Ollie. You know? Good guy. Bad boyfriend. Always somewhere else. Always had an arrow pointed at the next fight, not at us."

Kara nodded. "I had someone on Krypton. Before. I barely remember his face now."

Barbara stared into her empty glass. "Dick was complicated. Then there was, it doesn't matter. None of them stuck."

Diana looked at them gently. "You are all alone now?"

"Single," Dinah confirmed.

"Single," Kara echoed.

Barbara hiccupped. "Proudly single."

Diana smiled. "Then you understand. Sometimes solitude is not loneliness. Sometimes it is simply waiting."

"Waiting for what?" Kara asked.

Diana gazed into the fire. "Something better."

Diana rose slowly, placing her cup down with care. "Excuse me, sisters. I will return shortly."

She disappeared into one of the nearby huts. The three of them sat in confused silence, listening to the fire crackle.

Dinah shrugged. "Bathroom?"

Barbara grunted. "Probably."

Minutes passed. Then the hut's cloth door shifted aside.

Diana stepped out.

Nothing but oil.

Her bronze skin glistened in the firelight, every curve and muscle highlighted by the golden sheen. Her dark hair hung loose over one shoulder. She walked toward them barefoot, casual, unbothered, a faint smile on her lips.

Kara's eyes went wide.

Dinah's jaw dropped.

Barbara choked on nothing.

Diana sat back down on her blanket, legs folding beneath her, completely at ease. "I hope this does not trouble anyone."

"Trouble?" Kara squeaked.

Dinah recovered first. "No. No trouble at all."

Barbara had turned her head sharply, staring directly at the fire. Her ears were crimson. "Diana. You're, you're."

"Naked," Diana offered helpfully. "Yes."

"I see that."

Diana laughed softly. "At night I prefer to lay this way. The oil softens the skin. The cold air relaxes the body. It is an old Amazon practice. Centuries old."

Barbara risked a glance. Then another. Then looked away. "You couldn't warn us?"

"Would you have preferred I stay clothed and uncomfortable?"

Dinah was openly staring now, grinning. "Absolutely not."

Kara nodded rapidly. "This is great. This is the best trip ever."

Barbara swallowed. "It's fine. It's fine. It's cultural. It's fine."

Diana watched Barbara with knowing eyes. "You may look, Barbara. It is only a body."

"That's the problem," Barbara muttered.

Diana tilted her head, studying Barbara with patient amusement. "You are tense, Barbara. I can see it in your shoulders. Your jaw. You carry stress like armor."

Barbara stiffened. "I don't, that's just how I sit."

"The oil would help. The air would help more." Diana's voice was low, warm. "Would you like to join me?"

Barbara's glass slipped slightly. "Join me in."

"Nothing more than what I am doing. Skin. Oil. Air."

Kara grabbed Barbara's arm. "Do it."

Dinah leaned in from the other side. "Absolutely do it."

"Guys."

"When in Themyscira," Dinah sing-songed.

Kara nodded rapidly. "When in Themyscira."

Barbara looked at Diana. At the fire. At her own clenched fists. "I don't. I haven't."

Diana waited. No pressure in her eyes. Just patience.

Silence stretched. The fire popped twice. Somewhere in the jungle, a bird called.

Barbara exhaled slowly. "Nobody stares."

"Nobody stares," Diana confirmed.

"No comments."

"No comments."

Barbara stood. Wobbled slightly. The wine helped. She walked toward the hut without looking back, disappearing behind the cloth door.

Dinah and Kara exchanged glances.

Minutes passed.

Then the cloth shifted.

Barbara stepped out. Naked. Oiled. Skin gleaming pale in the firelight. She moved stiffly, arms uncertain, face burning red. She sat down quickly, pulling her knees up, staring at the ground.

Diana reached over and gently adjusted her shoulders. "Breathe."

Barbara breathed.

"Again."

She breathed again. Slower.

Dinah lay back, grinning at the stars. "Look at you, Babs."

Kara giggled. "Proud of you."

Barbara said nothing for a long moment. Then quietly, "The air actually feels nice."

Diana smiled. "It always does."

Barbara settled beside Diana, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her oiled skin. The night air was cool against her own bare flesh, a strange contrast that made her skin prickle.

Diana's hand rested gently on Barbara's thigh. Not gripping. Not squeezing. Just resting there, warm and heavy.

Barbara didn't move away.

Across the fire, Kara and Dinah looked at each other. A silent conversation passed between them in seconds. Eyebrows raised. Shrugs exchanged. Grins forming.

Kara stood first. "Okay."

Dinah was already up. "Okay."

They walked toward the hut together, laughing about something neither of them said out loud.

Barbara watched them go. "They didn't even hesitate."

"No," Diana said softly. "They did not."

Minutes later, the cloth door shifted. Dinah stepped out first, golden skin gleaming, stretching her arms overhead like it was the most natural thing in the world. Kara followed, pale and oiled and floating an inch off the ground, blonde hair catching the firelight.

They settled onto the blankets across from Barbara and Diana. The four of them sat in a loose circle around the fire, naked, oiled, skin glowing in the orange light.

Dinah sprawled out lazily. "This is ridiculously nice."

Kara lay back on the blanket, arms spread wide. "Why don't we do this always?"

Barbara said nothing. She was watching Diana's hand on her thigh. Feeling the weight of it. The warmth.

Diana looked at her. "Better?"

Barbara swallowed. "Better."

The fire crackled. The jungle hummed. Four women sat together beneath the stars, wearing nothing but oil and silence.

Kara shifted closer to Dinah, her oiled hip pressing against hers. Dinah responded immediately, wrapping an arm around Kara's waist, pulling her in until their thighs overlapped.

"Gods," Dinah whispered. "You're so soft."

Kara giggled, nuzzling against Dinah's shoulder. "Amazon oil. It's something in the oil."

"No. I mean you. You're soft."

"You too." Kara's hand slid across Dinah's stomach, fingers tracing the line of her hip, drifting lower over oiled skin. Dinah shivered slightly but didn't stop her. Kara's fingers continued their slow path down, past her hip, across her thigh, and finally settled gently between Dinah's legs.

Dinah inhaled sharply. Her hips shifted but didn't pull away.

Kara whispered against her ear. "Too much?"

"No," Dinah breathed. "Just new."

They lay there together, tangled, glistening, Kara's palm resting warm and still against her.

Diana watched them with a soft amused smile. She took a slow sip of wine. Her bronze body was relaxed, unbothered, as if she'd seen this a thousand times before. Because she had.

"Beautiful," Diana murmured simply.

Barbara had gone rigid. She'd shifted away slightly, arms hugging her own knees, eyes fixed on the fire. Her oiled skin caught the light but her face was hidden behind her knees.

Diana glanced at her. "Barbara?"

"I'm fine."

"You are tense again."

"I'm fine, Diana."

Diana didn't push. She simply sat beside her, close, warm, patient. Her hand still rested on Barbara's thigh.

Across the fire, Kara giggled softly. Dinah kissed her temple.

Kara's fingers found their way through soft curls, pressing gently against Dinah's warmth. Dinah let out a slow shaky breath, her hips tilting forward almost involuntarily. Her hand gripped Kara's thigh.

"Kara."

"Shh." Kara kissed her neck. "Just feel."

Her fingers moved slowly, tracing soft circles, slick with oil and something warmer. Dinah's mouth opened but no words came. Her back arched slightly. Her fingers dug into Kara's pale hip.

Across the fire, Diana's eyes lingered on them for a moment, then turned to Barbara.

Barbara was a ball. Knees tight. Arms wrapped around herself. Eyes squeezed shut.

Diana leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "Barbara."

"Don't."

"I am not asking anything of you."

"Good."

"But I want to." Diana's hand moved slowly up Barbara's thigh, stopping at her hip. "I want to ask. Only ask."

Barbara's breath hitched. "Diana."

"Would you like me to touch you?"

Barbara's eyes opened. Wide. Vulnerable. The fire reflected in wet glass.

"No. I can't. I don't."

Diana waited. Her hand stayed still on Barbara's hip.

The jungle hummed. The fire crackled. Across from them, Dinah let out a soft moan as Kara's fingers moved deeper.

Barbara's lip trembled. Something cracked behind her eyes.

"I haven't, in so long, Diana."

"I know."

"I'm scared."

"There is nothing to fear here."

Barbara stared at Diana. At her calm patient eyes. At her lips. At her hand resting warm and still.

A tear slipped down Barbara's cheek. Then another.

She didn't move away.

Kara shifted, her fingers sliding deeper into herself, slick and warm. Dinah mirrored her, two fingers circling slowly, hips rocking in rhythm. Their free hands found each other, fingers lacing together as their mouths met, wet, open, hungry. Tongues sliding. Breaths mingling. Moans swallowed between them.

Dinah whimpered into Kara's mouth. Kara's back arched, pressing her chest against Dinah's oiled skin.

Diana watched them briefly, then turned to Barbara. She rose slowly, sitting sideways on the log, facing her.

Barbara's eyes followed Diana's every move.

Diana patted her thigh gently. "Come here."

Barbara hesitated. Then she moved. Slowly. Shaking. She stood before Diana, oiled and bare, arms still trying to cover herself.

Diana reached out, taking Barbara's hands, pulling them away from her body. "No hiding. Not here."

Barbara's breath shook.

Diana guided her down, lowering her gently onto the blanket. She lifted Barbara's left foot slowly, reverently, placing it on her shoulder. Barbara's leg stretched open, trembling. Diana shifted closer, her own thigh sliding beneath Barbara's, until their centers pressed together.

Barbara gasped. "Oh god."

"Shh," Diana whispered. "Just feel. Just me."

She rolled her hips slowly. Warm oiled skin pressed against warm oiled skin. Barbara's mouth fell open. Her hands gripped the blanket.

Diana stroked Barbara's calf softly, running her fingers down to her ankle. "Good girl. You're doing so well."

Barbara whimpered. "Diana."

"Let go, Barbara. I have you."

Across the fire, Kara and Dinah tangled together, fingers buried deep, kissing desperately, moaning into each other's mouths.

Diana moved again, slow and steady, pressing firmly against Barbara's warmth.

Barbara's eyes closed. A tear slipped free. Her hips moved, barely, shyly, meeting Diana's.

"Good," Diana breathed. "Good girl."

Kara pulled back from Dinah's mouth, breathless. "Wait. Wait."

Dinah's eyes followed hers across the fire.

Barbara lay beneath Diana, oiled and flushed, red hair fanned across the blanket. Her back arched as Diana moved above her, slow, deliberate, grinding against her.

"Holy shit," Dinah whispered.

Kara's mouth fell open. "Is that Babs?"

"Moaning?"

"Moaning."

They watched, frozen, fingers still wet, bodies still pressed together.

Barbara's foot slid from Diana's shoulder, her toes pressing down, curling against Diana's bronze breast, finding her nipple. Diana's breath caught, just barely, and her smirk deepened.

"Eager now," Diana murmured.

Barbara's eyes were half-closed, lips parted. "Shut up."

Diana laughed softly. She rolled her hips forward, pressing her slick warmth fully against Barbara's, sliding together. Slow. Firm. Deliberate.

Barbara moaned again, louder this time, her head falling back. Her toes pinched Diana's nipple gently.

Diana's rhythm steadied. Grinding. Scissoring. Their bodies slid together, oil and heat and wetness mixing. Barbara's hips rose to meet hers, shy at first, then bolder.

Dinah giggled softly. "Our little Babs."

Kara covered her mouth. "She's really."

"Really into it."

"Good for her."

They watched, grinning, tangled together, as Diana leaned down and whispered something against Barbara's ear that made her cry out.

Kara and Dinah sat up slowly, eyes still fixed across the fire. Kara's hand found Dinah's thigh, sliding up, fingers slipping inside. Dinah gasped but didn't look away, her own hand reaching over, pressing between Kara's legs, two fingers curling deep.

They sat side by side, fingering each other, watching.

"Gods," Kara breathed. "Look at her."

Dinah's fingers moved faster. "I know."

Diana's rhythm changed. The slow grinding became something else, harder, faster, primal. Her bronze hips slammed against Barbara's pale body, slick skin slapping together. Her hands gripped Barbara's waist, pulling her into every thrust.

Barbara's moans broke into something rawer. Desperate. Her toes curled hard against Diana's breast, pinching, pulling. Her red hair whipped across the blanket as her head tossed.

"Diana, fuck, Diana."

"Yes," Diana growled. "Say my name."

"Diana."

Diana grabbed Barbara's other leg, spreading her wider, pressing deeper. The wet sounds between them grew louder, obscene, mixing with the crackle of fire.

Barbara's composure cracked. Her analytical mind, her walls, her control, all of it splintered. She grabbed Diana's arms, nails digging in.

"Don't stop don't stop don't stop."

Diana's eyes darkened. She leaned down, pressing her forehead against Barbara's, hips never stopping.

"Give it to me, Barbara. All of it."

Across the fire, Kara whimpered, Dinah's fingers buried deep inside her. Dinah bit her lip, watching Barbara shatter beneath Diana.

"There she goes," Dinah whispered.

Barbara shattered.

Her whole body seized, back arching clean off the blanket, mouth open in a soundless scream. Then it came. Raw. Primal. A wail that tore from her throat and echoed into the jungle. Her nails raked down Diana's arms, drawing thin red lines. Her hips bucked wildly against Diana's, grinding, spasming, chasing every last wave.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK."

Her legs shook violently. Her toes crushed Diana's nipple. Her red hair stuck to her sweat-slicked face. She came apart completely, every wall, every defense, every carefully constructed barrier, gone.

Diana watched her. Eyes calm. Steady. Present.

Then Diana's breath caught. Her rhythm stuttered. Her jaw tightened. A soft exhale escaped her lips, barely audible compared to Barbara's screams. Her hips pressed deep, held, trembled once. Her eyes fluttered closed.

Quiet. Controlled. Like everything else Diana did.

She exhaled slowly and opened her eyes. Satisfied. Not from release, but from watching Barbara break open in her arms.

She leaned down, pressing her lips softly against Barbara's forehead. "Good girl."

Across the fire, silence.

Kara's hand had stopped. Dinah's had stopped. Both sat frozen, fingers still buried inside each other, staring.

Kara's mouth hung open. "Did Barbara Gordon just."

"Scream like that?" Dinah finished.

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

They looked at each other. Then back at Barbara, limp, trembling, tear-streaked, gasping beneath Diana.

Diana looked over at them calmly, a slow smile forming. "Are you two alright?"

Kara blinked. "I think she's the one we should be asking about."

Barbara lay motionless except for her chest heaving. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused. Her lips moved but no words came.

Diana stroked her hair gently. "She will be fine. She needed this."

Diana sat up slowly, her bronze body glistening in the firelight. She looked across at Kara and Dinah, still frozen, still wet, still tangled together.

Her lips curled into a slow knowing smirk.

"So," Diana said softly, her voice like honey. "Either of you want your turn?"

Kara's throat moved. She swallowed hard.

Dinah's fingers twitched, still inside Kara.

They looked at each other.

Kara's blue eyes met Dinah's green ones. A thousand words passed between them in that single glance. Nervousness. Excitement. Want. Fear. Trust.

Dinah's lips parted. She started to speak.

Kara leaned in closer, breath warm against Dinah's cheek.

The fire crackled.

The jungle went silent.

And then.... To Be Continue

Hello, DC comics girls are going crazy, more insane, the better, do your best!

Thanks, thanks to u/SnooWords1252 for the amazing and sweet prompt. Please enjoy the read, and critique is warmly welcomed!

Rain hammered against the windows of the two-story house, streaking the glass in endless rivulets. The forecast had called for a weekend storm, and it was delivering in full force. Thunder rolled somewhere in the distance, a low growl that vibrated through the walls.

Downstairs, the kitchen was dark. The living room sat empty, TV off, the usual Friday night bustle replaced by silence. Their parents' car had pulled out of the driveway six hours ago, taillights disappearing into the gray downpour. Two days. A weekend conference their mom had been talking about for weeks. Their dad had gone along, leaving a half-empty fridge, a stack of frozen pizzas, and strict instructions to "not burn the house down."

Upstairs, two doors sat closed across the hall from each other.

In Elena's room, the overhead light was off. The only illumination came from the soft glow of her phone screen, casting pale blue light across her features as she lay propped against her pillows. Her thumb moved in slow, rhythmic swipes. Instagram, then TikTok, then back again. The algorithm served her nothing interesting. She scrolled anyway, the white noise of rain and the occasional muffled explosion from across the hall filling the space.

James sat cross-legged on his bed, controller in hand, eyes fixed on the television across from him. His character sprinted through a digital warzone, gunfire crackling through his headset. He'd been at it for two hours now, working through a backlog he'd been saving for exactly this kind of night. No homework. No parents checking in. Just him, the game, and the storm outside.

Neither had spoken to the other since dinner. A silent, separate affair of reheated leftovers eaten in their respective rooms.

The rain kept falling.

Elana lay on her back, one knee bent, the other stretched out across the rumpled sheets. Her phone hovered above her face, screen dimmed low, thumb moving on autopilot through feeds she wasn't really reading.

The loose black top had ridden up slightly, exposing a sliver of her stomach. The faded band logo stretched across her chest. "Deftones" in that old, worn-out font she liked. It had been washed so many times the letters were barely holding on. The fabric hung off her frame, the neckline slipping low whenever she shifted. She didn't bother fixing it.

Her hair fanned out across the pillow in a dark mess. Black strands sticking to her neck, damp from the humidity the storm had dragged in. She pushed a lock out of her face with the back of her hand, her black-painted nails catching the phone's glow for a second before she returned to scrolling.

The thong sat low on her hips, the black fabric disappearing between the firm curves of her ass as she shifted onto her side, tucking one arm under the pillow. Her feet were bare against the cool sheets, toes curled slightly, each nail a glossy, uniform black.

Thunder rumbled again, closer this time. The light flickered.

She didn't react. Just kept scrolling.

Elana tossed her phone aside and swung her legs off the bed, planting her bare feet on the cool hardwood floor. She stood, raising her arms above her head in a long stretch, spine arching, muscles pulling tight after lying in the same position for too long.

The loose top shifted with the movement, the stretched neckline sliding down. Her left breast slipped free, bare skin catching the dim gray light from the window. She glanced down, let out a small, breathy laugh, more out of tired amusement than anything else, and tugged the fabric back up with a lazy hand. Didn't really care. No one to see.

She walked to the window, bare feet padding softly across the floor, and pressed her forehead against the glass. The rain ran down in sheets, blurring the streetlights into smears of orange. The driveway was empty. The neighborhood was dead. Just water, everywhere, drowning the evening in monotony.

Her reflection stared back at her. Pale face, dark circles under her eyes, messy hair framing tired features. She looked sad. She felt sad, though she couldn't pinpoint why. Just one of those nights. One of those moods that settled in like fog and refused to lift.

She dropped her gaze. Down to her body. The top hanging loose. The bare legs. The way her hips curved. She ran a hand down her side, fingers trailing over her stomach, and frowned. Something twisted in her chest. Not quite disgust, not quite dissatisfaction. Just a quiet, heavy feeling that she wasn't enough. That something about her was wrong, or lacking, or simply not what anyone would want.

The rain kept falling. She kept staring at herself in the glass, half-watching her own reflection, half-watching the storm swallow the world outside.

A knock broke the silence. Three soft raps on her door.

"El? You alive in there?"

James's voice, muffled through the wood.

She didn't move from the window. "Unfortunately."

Pause. "Can I come in?"

"Do what you want."

The door creaked open. James stepped in, barefoot, loose gray shorts hanging low on his hips. His hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead from hours of gaming. He was built like someone who actually used the gym membership their parents paid for. Broad shoulders, defined chest, the kind of lean muscle that came from consistency rather than obsession.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, studying her back. "You've been in here all night."

"And you've been staring at a screen all night. We all have our vices." She still hadn't turned around.

He stepped closer. "You okay?"

"Fantastic. Never better. Living the dream, really. Alone in a dark room while the world ends outside. Peak Friday night."

Another step. "El."

She finally turned, leaning her lower back against the windowsill. The gray light from behind her made her face hard to read. "What."

He looked at her. Really looked. Took in the tired eyes, the slumped posture, the way her hands gripped the sill behind her like she needed something to hold onto.

"You seem off."

"I seem on, actually. Always on. Never off. It's exhausting." She smirked, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Why, you worried about me, Jamie?"

He frowned at the nickname. "Maybe."

"Sweet." She tilted her head, black nails tapping against the sill. "I'm fine. Go back to your little war game."

He didn't move.

Elana pushed off the windowsill, arms crossing under her chest, one eyebrow arched.

"So. You. Big strong guy. Gym every other day. That jawline." She gestured vaguely at him. "Tell me something, Jamie."

"Why do I feel like I'm about to walk into a trap?"

"You are." She stepped closer, bare feet quiet on the floor. "How come every time I see you, you're either gaming or working out? No girls. No dates. No drama. No texts at 2am. Nothing."

James shifted his weight. "Maybe I'm just focused on..."

"Bullshit." She cut him off, smirking. "You're nineteen. Hormones should be doing backflips. So what is it? You saving yourself for marriage or something equally tragic?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. "Can we not..."

"Ah." Her eyes narrowed, grin sharpening. "There it is. The dodge. The classic 'can we not' from a guy who absolutely does not want to answer." She tilted her head. "What's the deal, James? You bad with girls?"

Silence.

He exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening. Then, quieter than she expected: "Yeah. I am."

She blinked. The cockiness flickered for half a second.

"I'm... yeah," he continued, still not meeting her eyes. "Bad with girls. Terrible, actually. Can't talk to them without sounding like an idiot. Freeze up. Say the wrong thing. Or just... say nothing, which is apparently worse."

Elana's arms loosened slightly. "You're serious."

"Dead serious." He let out a short, humorless laugh. "Never been with anyone. Never even close. There was this one girl last year. Thought maybe something was there. Asked her out. She laughed. Not even mean about it, just... surprised. Like the idea was ridiculous."

He finally looked at her. "So yeah. Virgin. Twenty-first century edition. Happy?"

Elana stared at him, processing. Then her smirk crept back, but softer this time. "Wow. The plot thickens."

James's expression shifted. The embarrassment faded, replaced by something sharper. He tilted his head, studying her.

"Okay. My turn."

Elana's smirk wavered. "You don't get a turn."

"You just interrogated me for five minutes." He stepped closer, arms uncrossing. "Fair's fair."

"Life isn't fair, Jamie. Thought you'd learned that by now."

"So." He ignored her, voice calm. "Miss edgy. Black nails. Black thong. Whole vibe screaming 'I don't care.' When's the last time you actually went on a date?"

She waved a hand. "Recently. Plenty. You don't know everything about my life."

"Name one."

"..."

"Name one guy. Or girl. One person you've actually been with."

Elana's jaw tightened. She turned away, walking back toward the bed, picking up her phone and putting it down again. Nervous energy with nowhere to go. "I don't have to answer that."

"You made me answer."

"That was different."

"How?"

She spun around, finger raised, ready to fire back. But he was closer than she expected, standing right there, patient. Waiting. The same way she'd waited for him.

The cockiness cracked.

"It just is, okay? I'm not the one who... look at me, I obviously... people don't..." She stammered, words tangling. Her arms crossed tighter. Defensive. "I could have anyone. Anytime I wanted."

"So why haven't you?"

Silence.

The rain filled the gap between them.

Elana's shoulders dropped. The bravado collapsed like a house of cards. She looked at the floor, black nails picking at the hem of her top.

"Because I haven't," she said quietly. "Okay? Never. Not once. No one. I'm..." She swallowed. "I'm a virgin too, alright? There. Fucking happy now?"

James stared at her.

She still wouldn't look up. "So yeah. Big joke, right? All that mouth, all that attitude, and I've never even..." She cut herself off, laughing bitterly. "God."

He didn't laugh.

The room felt smaller.

James stood there, chest rising and falling slowly, the loose shorts hanging low on his hips. Elana across from him, the oversized top barely covering anything, legs bare, black thong cutting sharp against her hips.

Their eyes met.

Something shifted. The air between them thickened. Neither moved. The rain hammered the window. Thunder rolled overhead.

James's gaze dropped. Just for a second. Down her neck, the loose neckline, the exposed skin. He caught himself. Looked away. Jaw tight.

Elana noticed. Her stomach tightened. She felt it too. The pull. Wrong. Dark. The kind of thought you shove down so deep it never sees daylight. Her pulse quickened. Her skin prickled.

He's your brother.

He's your brother.

He's your...

"No." She said it out loud. Sharp. Loud. Like she was arguing with herself and winning.

James flinched. "What?"

"No. No, no, no." She stepped back, hand up, palm out. "Whatever that was... whatever just happened in your head right now... no. Absolutely fucking not."

"I wasn't..."

"You were." She pointed at him, finger shaking slightly. "I saw it. Don't lie to me. I saw it."

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

"We are not doing that." Her voice cracked. She laughed, high, unstable. "We are not being those people. That's... that's disgusting. That's wrong. That's..."

"I know." His voice was rough. Controlled. Barely.

"Then why did you look at me like that?"

Silence.

"Why, James?"

He didn't answer.

She grabbed her phone off the bed, clutching it like a weapon. "Get out."

"El..."

"Get out."

James didn't move toward the door.

"El..."

"I said get..."

He crossed the distance in two steps. His hands found her hips, fingers pressing into bare skin just above the thong's waistband. She gasped, a sharp intake of breath, phone slipping from her grip and bouncing off the bed.

"What are you..."

He pulled her forward and kissed her.

Hard. Desperate. Like he'd been holding something back for longer than either of them would admit.

Elana's hands flew up, palms hitting his chest, pushing. A muffled protest escaped against his mouth. Her nails dug into his skin. Stop. Stop. This is wrong. This is so fucking wrong.

But he didn't let go. And her pushes got weaker.

Her fingers uncurled. Pressed flat against his chest. Then slowly, so slowly, slid up. Over his collarbone. Around his neck.

She kissed him back.

The resistance melted. Her body leaned into his, bare legs pressing against his, the thin fabric between them doing nothing to hide the heat. Her fingers tangled into his short brown hair, pulling him closer. Deeper.

Thunder cracked outside. Neither flinched.

When they finally broke apart, both gasping, foreheads pressed together, Elana's eyes were wide. Her lips trembled. Her cockiness was gone. Stripped away, leaving something raw underneath.

"We can't," she whispered. But her hands were still in his hair.

"I know." His grip on her hips tightened.

"This is so wrong."

"I know."

She pulled him back in.

The silence stretched. Rain. Breathing. Nothing else.

Then Elana grabbed his face and pulled him back.

This time there was no hesitation. No protest. Her mouth found his, open, hungry, all teeth and tongue. James's hands slid from her hips to her lower back, pulling her flush against him.

She jumped.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, bare thighs locking tight, ankles crossing behind him. He caught her easily, one hand gripping her ass through the thin thong, the other braced against her lower back. She was light. Lighter than she should've been. And he held her like she weighed nothing.

The kiss deepened. Primal. No more tenderness, no more caution. She bit his lower lip and he groaned, pressing her back against the wall. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs but she didn't break away. Just pulled him harder, fingers raking down his shoulders, leaving faint red lines on his skin.

"Fuck," she gasped against his mouth. Not a protest. Just a word. Just a sound.

He kissed her jaw. Her neck. She tilted her head back, hitting the wall, eyes closed, legs tightening around him. Her fingers dug into his hair, pulling his head back up to her mouth.

The loose top had ridden up completely. Skin pressed against skin. Heat against heat.

Outside, lightning lit the room white for a split second. Thunder followed, shaking the house.

Neither noticed. Neither cared.

James carried her to the bed, each step deliberate. He dropped her.

Elana bounced once on the mattress, black hair splaying across the sheets. She looked up at him, chest heaving, top bunched up around her ribs, thong the only thing left.

He stood over her. Breathing hard. Eyes dark. Looking at her like something to be consumed.

She should've said something cocky. Some sharp comment. Some edge.

Instead her face changed. The bravado melted. The sharp-tongued girl who always had a comeback vanished. What was left was softer. Younger. Wide eyes looking up at him through dark lashes. Biting her lower lip. Innocent. Like she'd never done this before.

Because she hadn't.

Neither had he.

She spread her legs. Slowly. Knees bent, feet in the air, black-painted toes pointed toward the ceiling. An invitation. A surrender. Her hands drifted down, fingertips tracing lazy patterns over her own stomach, feeling the rise and fall of her own breathing.

"James," she whispered. Not a protest. Not a joke. Just his name. Like she was testing whether this was real.

James hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and shoved them down. Fast. No hesitation.

His cock sprang free. Hard, thick, slapping against his stomach before bobbing heavily between his thighs. Fat. Veined. Bigger than anything she'd seen outside of a screen.

Elana's eyes went wide. All the way wide. Her mouth opened but nothing came out. The innocent look on her face cracked into pure shock, cheeks flooding with color.

"Holy..." she breathed. Then stopped. Staring.

Her cockiness was gone. Her edginess was gone. Just a nineteen-year-old girl who'd never seen one in real life, suddenly face to face with the reality of it.

Her hands trembled slightly as they moved to the hem of her top. She grabbed the fabric. Hesitated for half a second, some last shred of resistance, then pulled it up and over her head in one quick motion.

Her breasts bounced free. C-cup, firm, pale nipples hardening in the cool air. She dropped the top somewhere beside the bed, not watching where it landed.

She lay there. Exposed. Completely. Just the black thong left. Looking up at him with those wide eyes, chest rising and falling fast.

She swallowed hard. Her voice came out smaller than she'd ever let it sound.

"James... that's... I don't..." She trailed off. Couldn't finish. Didn't know what she was trying to say.

He didn't move. Just stood there at the foot of the bed, hard and aching, watching her.

The rain kept falling.

James moved closer. Crawled over her. His knees pushed her thighs wider apart. He reached down, grabbed the thin black fabric of her thong, and ripped.

The sound cut through the room. Sharp. The fabric tore apart easily, snapping against her skin. He pulled the pieces away and tossed them aside.

Elana flinched. Gasped. But didn't close her legs.

She lay there completely bare now. Nothing left. Exposed in a way she'd never been with anyone. Her chest rose and fell fast, breasts swelling with each breath, nipples tight and hard.

James looked down at her. Not with hunger anymore. Something softer. Reverent. Like she was something holy. Something sacred. A goddess laid out on cheap sheets in a bedroom that smelled like rain and teenage desperation.

"El," he said, voice low, rough. "You okay?"

She stared up at him. Eyes dark. Lips parted. Breathing ragged.

"Okay?" She laughed. Short. Breathless. "No, James. I'm not okay."

Her hips shifted. Squirmed. Her thighs pressed together for a second, then fell open again. Wet. Obviously, visibly wet. She was dripping. Had been since he'd kissed her. Maybe longer.

"I'm so fucking horny right now I can't think straight," she said. No edge. No cockiness. Just raw, honest desperation. Her hands gripped the sheets beside her. Knuckles white. "I've never... I don't... please just..."

She couldn't finish. Her back arched slightly off the bed. Her hips tilted toward him. Offering. Begging.

She didn't hide it. Couldn't.

James positioned himself between her legs. The head of his cock pressed against her entrance. Wet. Slick. Ready but tight. So tight.

He pushed forward. Slowly. Testing.

Elana's breath hitched. Her face twisted. A small sound escaped her. Sharp, thin. Pain. Her hands flew up, gripping his forearms, nails digging in.

"Fuck..." she hissed through clenched teeth. Her eyes squeezed shut.

He stopped. "El..."

"Don't stop." Her voice was thin. Strained. "Just... slow..."

He pushed deeper. The resistance gave way inch by inch. Her hymen stretched, then tore. She cried out. A short, bitten-off sound. And her whole body tensed beneath him. Her legs tightened around his hips. Her back arched.

Then. Stillness.

He was fully inside her. Buried to the hilt. His hips pressed flush against hers. His cock throbbed inside her, stretching her walls wide open, filling her completely.

Elana opened her eyes. Stared up at him. The pain was still there, flickering, but something else had taken over. Something overwhelming. Her expression shifted. Softened. Her mouth fell open slightly. Her grip on his forearms loosened.

"Oh," she breathed. "Oh my god."

She felt full. Stretched. Complete in a way she'd never imagined. Her body trembled around him, adjusting, clenching and releasing. Her hips shifted slightly, testing, feeling.

"Stay," she whispered. "Just... stay there for a second. I need... I need to..."

She couldn't finish. Her eyes glistened. Not from pain anymore.

She looked blessed.

James started to move.

Slowly. Pulling back until only the head remained inside her, then sliding forward again until his hips pressed flush against hers. Full length. Every inch retreating, then returning. Steady. Unhurried. Like he was learning her. Memorizing her.

Elana's mouth fell open. A shaky exhale escaped with each thrust. Her hands slid up his arms, over his shoulders, settling behind his neck. Her legs wrapped tighter around his hips, pulling him deeper.

"James..." she breathed. "James..."

He looked down at her. Their eyes locked. His expression was shattered. Raw, open, vulnerable in a way she'd never seen on him. Shocked at what they were doing. Shocked at how it felt. But beneath the shock, something else. Bliss. Pure, overwhelming bliss. Like nothing had ever felt this right.

She saw it. Understood it. Felt the same.

"Oh god," she whispered. Her hips started to move with him. Meeting each thrust. Finding his rhythm. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

He kissed her forehead. Her nose. Her lips. Still moving. Still steady. Still filling her completely with every stroke.

Her nails raked down his back. Her breathing grew ragged. Her body trembled beneath him.

The storm raged outside. The bed creaked softly. Their bodies moved together in the dim gray light.

Neither spoke. Neither needed to.

James's hands found her breasts. Cupped them. Palms pressing flat against her nipples. He leaned forward, letting his weight sink into her through his hands. The pressure made her gasp. Her back arched, pushing her chest up into his grip.

His rhythm changed. Faster now. Still full length, still deep, but harder. Steadier. Each thrust drove into her with purpose, his hips slamming against hers, the sound of skin meeting skin cutting through the rain.

Elana's head fell back. Her mouth opened. Words failed her. Just broken sounds, half-moans, half-breaths. Her legs tightened around him, pulling him deeper with every stroke. Her nails dragged down his back, leaving red trails.

"James... James... James..."

His name became a chant. A prayer. Her eyes rolled back. Her body shook beneath him. Each thrust split her open a little more. Physically. Emotionally. Walls crumbling. Defenses gone. The cocky girl who never let anyone in was being broken apart, piece by piece, and she was letting it happen.

He watched her face. The pleasure. The vulnerability. The surrender. His own expression mirrored hers. Shocked, raw, blessed. Breaking apart just like she was.

They were dissolving into each other. Two becoming one. Something irreversible happening between them. Something that couldn't be undone.

Her hands found his face. Pulled him down. Kissed him. Messy, desperate, tasting tears she didn't know she was crying.

"Don't stop," she whispered against his lips. "Never stop. Don't ever..."

He didn't.

A few minutes later. Or was it hours? It hit them.

Elana first. Her body seized. Her back arched clean off the bed. A cry tore from her throat. Raw, broken, loud enough to shake the walls. Her walls clenched around him like a vice, pulsing, spasming, gripping him so tight he couldn't move.

"James... James... oh god... OH..."

He followed seconds later. His hips slammed forward one final time, burying himself as deep as he could go. His whole body tensed. A groan ripped from his chest. Guttural. Primal. His cock throbbed inside her, erupting, flooding her womb with thick, hot spurts. Again. Again. Again. Filling her completely.

They cried out together. Voices tangling. Bodies trembling. The orgasm ripped through them both like the storm outside. Violent. Overwhelming. Leaving nothing untouched.

Elana's nails drew blood from his shoulders. Her legs locked around him, holding him inside her, refusing to let go. Tears streamed down her temples, pooling in her ears, soaking into the pillow. She didn't know why she was crying. Didn't care.

James collapsed beside her. Chest heaving. Cock slipping out of her, trailing warmth down her thigh. The bed shifted under his weight. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, unable to move. Unable to think.

Elana lay beside him. Legs still parted. Breathing ragged. His seed dripping from her, pooling beneath her hips. She could feel it inside her. Warm, thick, filling spaces that had never been filled before.

Neither spoke.

The rain kept falling.

Minutes passed. Maybe longer.

Elana's hand moved across the sheets. Found his. Fingers intertwined. Squeezed.

He squeezed back.

Elana propped herself up on one elbow. Looked down at him.

James lay there, staring at the ceiling, chest still rising and falling. His hair was a mess. Her nail marks lined his shoulders and chest. He looked destroyed. Beautiful.

She stared at him. He stared back.

Then. She laughed.

Not a smirk. Not a cocky chuckle. A real laugh. Disbelieving. Breathless. The kind that bubbles up when your brain finally catches up with what your body just did.

"You're kidding me," she said. Laughing again. Covering her mouth with her hand. "We actually..."

James started laughing too. Short. Stunned. Running a hand down his face. "Yeah."

"We actually..."

"Yeah."

"With each other."

"Yep."

"We're..."

"Twins. Yeah."

She fell back onto the pillow, laughing harder. He joined her. The bed shook with it. Two nineteen-year-olds laughing at the absurdity, the impossibility, the sheer insanity of what they'd just done.

Tears again. Different kind.

Elana wiped her eyes. Caught her breath. Turned her head to look at him.

"Mom and Dad," she said, voice dropping. "Two days."

James's laughter faded. His eyes met hers. The weight of it settled over them both.

Two days. Alone. No interruptions. No one coming home.

Two full days.

Elana bit her lip. That familiar look crept back into her eyes. Something between hunger and fear.

"So," she whispered. "What now?"

James didn't answer. But his hand found her thigh under the sheets.

The rain kept falling.

Hey there, looking for some incest virginity loss prompt, M/FXF, let's go crazy!

Hello! I'm looking for a prompt about a young princess, preferably in a high fantasy setting, who gets into problems- the more creative and unusual, the better! I'll pitch one prompt in 24 hours and create it!

This is part 2 of 3 parts of a story inspired by u/ThrowyMCThroway17.

Any critique is warmly welcomed! Hope for a good read!

Zandia moved through the corridors with ease, her ranger training easily visible with naked eye. Her leather boots gave no sound on wet, sloppy ground. Tight leather pants—yet practical—reflected her legs' features. Going up, exposed belly, with red crystal in navel button. Crochet top, two pieces holding her C-cup, melting in neck, making some sort of knot around. Her full black outfit contrasted with her white, messy, curled hair, ending at shoulder length. Violet, in some places jungle-clawed skin added some exoticism to her form.

Finally, after pretty long journey deep into labyrinth, she found expansive chamber. In center, device of pure fantasy—a rack. Out of nowhere, voice, deep, female, echoing, started to speak to Zandia.

"Ooh, finally you, Zandia!" Zandia went rigid. "Huh? Who are you?" she asked, going full alert mode.

"I'm not important, but you—biggest thief on coast, sexiest in your funny group, bossy, witchy—"

"Any other compliments?" Zandia interrupted.

Voice laughed like never before. "That's why I like you, drow. I can give you anything you always dreamed of. Beauty, wealth and, most important, power. Oh, plenty lie to yourself, you love power. Being second in group is killing you."

Zandia crossed her arms under breast, pushing them forward. "Drow? I like her, however—what I need to do?"

Voice started again. "Simple, undress yourself and lie on rack."

Zandia giggled. "I'm not stupid."

Voice however stayed stoic. "Is offer, not demand, Zandia."

Zandia thought for couple minutes, with visible fight in her expression. Finally, she rolled eyes over, lobbed her lower top off, making it fall on ground.

Piece of clothing on mossy ground. Her full breasts popped out, round, with perky pink ends erected from cold, humid air. She stepped out from boots, her small feet placed in mess with soft steps, wrinkling purple-painted toes. Empty leather pants, with mark of something, tight material, joined rest of clothing. Last thing left—black thongs, not hiding much, sides lifted to hips.

"Boutique, too, however? I'm surprised you have one on yourself," Zandia giggled. "Leather isn't best for my sensitive spot."

She slid them down, exposed her love—shaved pussy. Perfect lips without any gap, soft like velvet, small sensitivity tattoo on pubic area. With cat-like grace, she moved to rock, her hand testing texture—rough wood and cold metal. She lay down, arms like cross, legs spread wide. Metal straps snapped, immobilizing her in place.

"Huh? Is this joke?"

Two hands manifested from thin air, semi-transparent, violet, hanging next to her feet. Zandia's feet wriggled, like trying to escape. Finally, cold, smooth like silk fingers connected to both her soles. Dragging slowly from top to bottom and back. Zandia giggled and wiggled in place.

"No, please, not like this!"

Third hand manifested, placing itself on her womanhood. Two fingers entered her warmth, found her G-spot with ease. Her breath caught, became heavy, broken with giggles from time to time.

"Mercy, please!"

Long minutes passed. Zandia's tears started to trail her cheeks while stimulation overwhelmed her like never-ending avalanche.

"Stay like this, please!"

But magical hands were working, not giving her moment to breathe.

To be continued...

Thanks to the idea of u/ThrowyMCThroway17, part 1 of 3 planned for this story, this is my first posting; Any advice is highly welcome!

So, well, I hope you'll have a good read!

The party of three heroines was well known throughout the realm: Tasha, the muscle of the group; Zandia, the cunning rogue; and finally Arriel, the shy wizard. The trio had been hired by a senator's recently widowed wife to retrieve a small chest from some ruins.

When the party arrived, Tasha pushed against the big old double doors.

"C'mon gals, this shouldn't take long," she threw over her shoulder, grinning.

They entered a corridor, old and wet, which led to a chamber. In the center stood a pillar. Arriel leaned in to read a small sign written in Elvish. Being half-elven herself, she deciphered it with ease.

"Girls, it says each of us needs to take one of three paths, complete some sort of trial, and finally we'll meet at the end."

They looked at one another, then split toward their respective doors. Zandia glanced back at them. "Just do it fast. I don't have all day."

They went deeper.

Tasha moved slowly, a two-handed sword gripped in her hands, her ginger hair tied in a large braid that hung down her back. She was tall and athletic, leather straps holding her C-cup breasts and exposing her well-built belly. Below, a lioncloth hung, hiding practical brown panties. On her feet were a pair of sandals with straps that ended just below her knees.

After a few rooms she found a chest, golden and shining. She put her sword on the wet floor and punched the lock, breaking it. Her hands slowly opened the chest and—

Boom.

A strong light struck her, making her fall onto the mossy ground. In moments, four purple tentacles shot from the chest and grabbed her limbs, immobilizing her.

Tasha tried to break free. "What the fuck!? I'm gonna kill you!"

The slimy tentacles held her still. Another one emerged, slowly sliding up her left leg, under her lioncloth, pushing her panties aside and exposing her wetness.

"W—? I'm gonna kill you en—"

She didn't finish. A soft gasp escaped her mouth.

The slimy, wet, purple tentacle moved from bottom to top over her lower lips, its tip slowly pushing between them. Tasha squirmed, trying to break free.

"Ah, ngh, this is so sensitive."

Her composure slowly broke through quiet moaning and panting. Finally, the tentacle entered her womanhood in short, methodical thrusts, hitting the end of her womb and making her belly bulge.

"Oh, you fucking gods!" she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls.

The tentacle moved in deliberate motion, sliding out slowly, then rapid and sharp in. Tasha wiggled, jolted, moaned. Her breasts jiggled under the rapid movement.

Out of nowhere, a thinner tentacle appeared, sliding toward her second hole.

"No, not there, I've ne—"

Her eyes went wide, a mix of pain and pleasure on her face. The second slimy thing moved more methodically, relentless.

In the distance, Tasha heard laughter, loud and prolonged. It was Zandia.

"Oh god, she got trapped too! Fuck, this is... Agh! I'm so fucking close!"

Finally, she exploded. Her eyes rolled back, her whole body tensing and shaking as her mouth screamed in pure pleasure.

"Yes!"

This blessed state prolonged for long seconds, but after all of this, the tentacles didn't stop.

"No, wait... ah! I've cummed, it's too much!"

But the mimic didn't care.

To be continued

Hey, I'd love to test myself in high fantasy scenarios. Go ahead!

City of Olm, a major city in the kingdom, a port, a trade district, and, of course, a lot of politics. The king died recently, without an heir, and the queen is trying to put together a falling-apart city. Parliament is exploding, political movements start and fall, trying to push agendas. Then, it's you, low rank, fresh face on the scene, trying to.... do something. What will be your story?

Today I'm coming with something new: a DND 1-on-1 game focused more on roleplay, politics, and drama than combat and exploration. Sounds good? Let's chat and tell me your fav color!