#Automatic winding machine

[acmemechatronics1]

How Automatic Coil Winding Machines Improve Efficiency: Exploring the Benefits

The coil winding process is integral to industries that rely on electrical components such as transformers, electric motors, inductors, and solenoids. Traditionally, this process required significant manual labor and close supervision. However, the introduction of automatic coil winding machines has drastically transformed the way coils are produced, offering significant improvements in efficiency, precision, and overall production quality.

In this article, we will explore how automatic coil winding machines enhance manufacturing processes, reduce costs, and optimize production timelines, all while maintaining high standards of accuracy and reliability.

What is an Automatic Coil Winding Machine?

At its core, an automatic winding machine is a piece of machinery designed to wind wire around a core or form with minimal human intervention. These machines operate using programmable logic controllers (PLCs) and advanced feedback systems to automate the winding process, ensuring precise and consistent coil formation.

Unlike manual or semi-automatic machines, an automatic coil winding machine can operate autonomously, handling tasks such as wire feeding, tension control, layer placement, and even monitoring for defects or irregularities. These systems are particularly useful in high-volume manufacturing environments, where consistent quality and rapid turnaround times are essential.

How Do Automatic Coil Winding Machines Improve Efficiency?

The introduction of automatic coil winding machines has brought about several key benefits that directly contribute to manufacturing efficiency. Let’s break down the most significant ways in which these machines enhance productivity and streamline operations.

1. Increased Production Speed

One of the primary ways in which automatic coil winding machines improve efficiency is by significantly increasing the speed of the winding process. Manual coil winding typically involves multiple operators performing tasks such as guiding the wire, adjusting tension, and controlling the winding speed. Each of these steps can introduce delays and inconsistencies.

In contrast, an automatic coil winding machine can perform these tasks in real-time, continuously adjusting settings to optimize the winding speed. High-speed motors and precise control systems enable the machine to wind coils faster and more consistently, resulting in higher throughput. This is especially important in industries with high-volume production demands, such as automotive or electronics manufacturing.

2. Improved Precision and Consistency

Precision is critical when it comes to coil winding. Variations in wire tension, layer alignment, and coil size can lead to product defects, poor performance, or even winding equipment failure. Automatic coil winding machines are designed to deliver consistent results by using sensors and advanced control systems to monitor and adjust the process as it unfolds.

For instance, many machines feature real-time feedback systems that continuously measure wire tension and adjust the feeding mechanism accordingly. This ensures that the wire is wound evenly and under the correct tension, preventing issues such as wire slippage or breakage. Additionally, automated layer control ensures that each layer of the coil is placed with precision, minimizing the risk of gaps or misalignments.

By eliminating human error and improving the accuracy of each coil, automatic machines help manufacturers produce high-quality coils that meet tight tolerances, thereby reducing the need for rework or scrapping of defective units.

3. Reduced Labor Costs

Labor costs are a significant factor in coil winding operations, especially in industries that require high volumes of coils. Manual winding often requires skilled workers to operate and monitor the machines, which can be time-consuming and costly. Automatic coil winding machines reduce the need for direct human involvement, allowing for a reduction in labor requirements.

Once the machine is programmed and set up, it can operate autonomously, minimizing the need for constant supervision. This frees up operators to focus on other critical tasks, such as quality control or machine maintenance. Over time, the savings from reduced labor costs can offset the initial investment in automatic winding technology.

4. Minimized Material Waste

Material waste is another challenge in the coil winding process, particularly when using manual machines that rely on human judgment for wire feeding and tensioning. Inconsistent feeding or misalignment of wire can result in waste, as coils may need to be discarded or rewound.

Automatic coil winding machines address this issue by employing precise tension control and advanced sensors that detect any issues in real-time. The system can make adjustments as needed to prevent excessive wire usage or misfeeding, which helps minimize material waste. Furthermore, many automatic machines are designed with splicing features that allow for seamless transitions between wire spools, ensuring continuous operation without unnecessary downtime.

By reducing material waste, manufacturers can achieve higher yield rates, improving overall cost-efficiency and profitability.

5. Enhanced Flexibility and Versatility

Modern automatic coil winding machines are highly versatile, capable of handling a wide range of wire types, coil sizes, and winding patterns. Operators can easily reprogram the machine to accommodate different projects or product designs, allowing manufacturers to quickly switch between various coil specifications without extensive downtime or retooling.

This flexibility is especially beneficial for industries that require customization or short-run production. For example, a coil winding machine used in motor manufacturing might need to produce coils for different motor sizes or configurations. With the ability to quickly adapt to new parameters, the machine can meet the varied demands of these applications, all while maintaining high efficiency and precision.

6. Lower Defect Rates and Improved Quality Control

Automatic coil winding machines are equipped with advanced sensors and automated inspection systems that constantly monitor the winding process for defects. These systems can detect issues such as incorrect wire tension, misalignment of layers, or deviations in coil size, which are often difficult to identify manually. When a potential problem is detected, the machine can automatically adjust or stop the process to prevent further defects.

Additionally, many machines feature integrated quality control features that ensure every coil meets predefined specifications. By eliminating defects at the source, automatic machines help reduce the need for post-production inspection and rework, resulting in higher-quality products and reduced overall costs.

7. Predictive Maintenance and Downtime Reduction

Another important benefit of automatic coil winding machines is their ability to support predictive maintenance. Advanced machines are often equipped with sensors that monitor the condition of critical components, such as motors, spindles, and bearings. These sensors can detect signs of wear or malfunction before they lead to machine failure, allowing for proactive maintenance.

By predicting when parts are likely to wear out or require maintenance, manufacturers can schedule downtime during non-peak hours, minimizing disruptions to production schedules. This level of foresight helps improve overall equipment efficiency (OEE) and reduce the likelihood of costly, unplanned downtime.

Conclusion: The Future of Coil Winding Efficiency

Automatic coil winding machines have revolutionized the coil production process by improving efficiency, reducing costs, and ensuring consistent, high-quality output. With their ability to operate autonomously, reduce material waste, and enhance precision, these machines have become indispensable in industries that depend on coil-based components.

As technology continues to evolve, we can expect further innovations in coil winder machinery, including advancements in AI integration, machine learning, and IoT connectivity, which will continue to drive efficiency improvements and optimize production processes.As industries continue to demand faster, more precise coil production, the question remains: How will future advancements in automatic programmable winding machine technology shape the next generation of electrical and electronic devices, from electric vehicles to renewable energy systems?

[winding-machine]

winding-machine

Manual Winding Machines: These are basic winding machines operated by hand. They are suitable for low-volume production or prototyping.

Semiautomatic Winding Machines: These machines combine manual and automated features. Operators guide the winding process, but the machine assists with tension control, layering, and other tasks.

Automatic Winding Machines: These machines are fully automated and capable of handling high-volume production. They can be programmed to wind specific patterns, adjust tension automatically, and monitor various parameters.

CNC Winding Machines: These are computer-controlled winding machines capable of intricate winding patterns and precise control over winding parameters such as tension, speed, and layering.

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[windingmachines]

Semiautomatic programmable coil winding machine - Synthesis Winding

Synthesis offering Smart Winder range of versatile & user-friendly Semi-Automatic Winding Machines is available in several configurations, offering optimum and comprehensive winding solutions based on coil complexity, size, and productivity; leading to minimum start-up time and cost-effective solutions.

[transgaysex]

watching my embroidery machine go on its own is a very unique experience

[cady181]

rubber sprial hose extrusion line with automatic winding machine to russ...

[acmeelectronics]

We manufacture and supply extreme quality CNC Winding Machine available in different specifications according to the customer requirements.  Our low-cost, and accurate CNC Winding Machine allows full control of each Axis down to a degree level, to suit your winding pattern.

[capslocked]

PARITY

male reader x sana & miyeon

21k words

Within some reasonable tolerance, the two are carbon copies. Six of one, half a dozen of the other.

Doppelganger, twin, deadringer - they always tell you, they don’t see it.

But when they stand together it always comes across like two shadows stitched into one silhouette; the slope of their noses, their mouths; the way their hair cascades down past their shoulders.

You’ve learned to recognize the twitch at the corner of their lips before a laugh - how they speak in the same inflection and pitch and tempo, the same cadence coloring all their syllables. Even in their figures there is something uncannily familiar: that petite stature, that grace; they both have perfect posture, an ingrained elegance, like something handed down generation to generation. And of course - the height. The hair. The eyes. The same-damned-smirk.

Here's a hypothetical: if Sana's DNA, then Miyeon's RNA. They're both two separate ways of reading the same thing, and they both have it in them to transcribe the same hot load of proteins over all their pretty faces.

"Oh, that's like a sex joke," Miyeon says to Sana, frowning slightly, "right?"

"I don't know." Sana hums. "Protein... like sperm?"

You sigh, rub your thumb at your temple. This is why, normally, you wouldn't take ditzy to bed, but there's all this history between you and Sana that proves otherwise. The dirty truth is: you’ve been taking ditzy to bed for years. And Miyeon’s right there. She’s all bright eyes, blonde hair, tiny little waist, the perfect height to get two fingers in her cunt and the rest of her in your lap without you even needing to shift your arm into something more uncomfortable. God forbid.

She pulls back the curtain of silk-glossed-hair spilling over her cheek and tucks it neatly behind her ear. Okay, fine. So maybe you really do have a type.

"Yeah," Miyeon decides. "I think that's a good pun. Cute."

She glances sideways at Sana; something flashes between them, imperceptible. They've been doing this sorta thing for a long time - long before they ended up in their current living arrangement. This machine of synchronized, unvoiced communication.

"Cute," echoes Sana, delighted, and she lets her eyes flick back to yours. "Baby, are you, like, gonna give us lots of protein?"

"First of all, we’re fast approaching the point of diminishing returns on the whole protein spermaestria," you muse, wryly. Sana beams. "And again, the point I’m trying to make, Sana: you two are identical."

"Not in spirit," says Miyeon, automatically. "Or intellect. Or appearance, either."

"You can't just claim that," says Sana, matter of fact. "He means physically. I have bigger tits and a better ass.”

There's no argument from your end. And not only because the cab driver hits a speed bump or a pothole or perhaps a small child way too quickly that sends you all lurching together into the seatbelts.

Miyeon finds a good hold in the handle over the door - it saves her - and you wind up steadying Sana. For a split second, it's both their shoulders leaning on yours: Sana, then Miyeon, then Sana. Back and forth. Back and forth. The three of you still end up sprawled halfway out of the seats and onto each other in the cramped cab, tangled all together.

"Please, explain it then," implores Sana, hushed slightly. "Go ahead, I'm sure Miyeon's dying to hear it."

"Look, it's not a perfect one to one mapping," you say, running your hand through your hair and putting on your patient professor-in-front-of-the-class face. "For example: Miyeon's cuter-"

"Thank you," chirps Miyeon, sweetly sardonic, before you can even append anything else to the statement. Sana’s already there with a noise of mild protest.

"I mean, I'm a full inch and a half taller than you."

"So?"

"That’s an unfair advantage. You've gotta be the dumbest person I know."

"Funny," chides Miyeon, swiveling her gaze onto Sana. "You could barely talk when we were fucking your brains out on your birthday. He's dating you, not me, remember? If anything, you're the one sporting an unfair advantage."

"Okay, well," Sana counters, reasonably, "when you can barely get a sentence out from choking on my boyfriend's cock, who the hell is supposed to call it?"

You ignore that. Miyeon is having more difficulty; her face has flushed cherry red and her hand's white-knuckle-gripping the side of the cab's passenger door. 

"For what it’s worth," you cut in, placidly, "I don’t think there’s any clear answer."

"Nonsense," they both reply, simultaneously and satisfied - like wind up toys. And that's the way the conversation tends to go when you get them alone like this. Identical, you pause to think again after spilling out from the back of the car and onto the curb outside the girls’ apartment.

All the things they say are word-for-word - they walk the same, eat the same, smile the same, tilt their heads the same. In those moments where you don't speak, it feels like watching some two-headed monster, an entity constructed from equal parts of both. And it isn't just the physicality at play. They've got that eerie ability to read each other, speak for each other. It's strange: their habits, the way their eyebrows arch, the set of their shoulders. It all syncs right up, matches seamlessly.

It's really fucking uncanny.

"Um." Sana twists one slim wrist back and forth until the key turns in the lock. "So, is it, like, wrong of me that I kinda just wanna skip the dinner part of this and watch my roommate get wrecked in the middle of our living room?"

"Depends," you answer, before you can let yourself dwell too much.

“Just a complete and utter carpet dive,” Sana says, shouldering the door open and flipping on the lights. “It’d serve her right. She’s being annoying.”

Miyeon scoffs, sticks out a bare, pale leg - it ends in a nail polished fire engine red, the strap of a stiletto sandal - and blocks your way inside. "Hey," she protests, lightly. You are not the only object in the equation - you are merely an item to be held against them; it's not about you, not in its most abstract shape. Miyeon and Sana are competing - vaguely for your affection, but more so just for affection in general. It's an ego thing, if nothing else.

"I'm an angel. I'm precious."

"Get your pretty feet out of his face," warns Sana.

"Ugh," says Miyeon. And then, "so short-tempered when you're not getting away with everything."

"Whatever, princess." Sana gestures, airy and flippant. "In any case: fuck off, or go get fucked."

This has become some kind of weird custom, admittedly. Miyeon does exactly as her best friend requests. She floats down the hallway and toward her room.

"Can't get good service around here anymore anyway," is what she tosses over her shoulder. Her fingers run up the door frame to her room and hang there, briefly, before she glances sideways back. You and Sana, now giving her your deservedly undivided attention. There is no split focus, no point of overlap. Her hair falls loose past her shoulders; her shirt clings a little to the muscles of her arms, her ribs. The point of contact between her skirt and her upper thighs. Those impossibly big eyes. She's gorgeous. You rarely ever let yourself forget that. There's something devastating about the set of her face, about how her body is absolutely fucking perfect, all curving lines and smooth planes - tits that fit right in your palm, the dip of her stomach, the pretty shape of her ass - she’s tiny, and in a way, that means you can do anything to her and manage to get away with it. She’ll let you. She’ll ask you to do it all again. 

"You two are more than welcome to follow along, if you feel so inclined,” Miyeon adds before she opens the door to her room, steps through, and lets it shut behind her.

"Yeah." Sana runs her tongue over her top lip, staring you straight in the eye. Her smile is slightly predatory, all sharp teeth. "If you’re so inclined."

-

(For anyone wondering about things like premise or backstory, here’s a useful memory:

Sana has a new roommate. They've been living together for two, three months. She's still not over the fact you didn’t ask her to move in, and you're still not ready for it. Your answer hasn’t changed. You like your apartment the way it is; the two of you need space; it's what the kids call cohabital parity and no, the ring's not in your wallet and it's not even bought yet; stop nagging me. It'll happen when it happens. 

Anyway,

It's one of those plainly beautiful evenings in early July or August - a weekend probably: the living room is bathed in the sort of low, radiant sunset that can go on forever, all of summer stretched out, leisure and sunshine. Sana had talked her way into getting you to take her somewhere highbrow and a little out of your budget. She can talk her way into just about anything; that's her brand, her bad habit, her good fortune.

"We're not going to be able to get our tickets," you're explaining into the loud blare of a hair dryer. And to paraphrase, "what the fuck is the point of making reservations if we’re going to be so reprehensively late?"

Sana's juggling the curling iron while fumbling with an eyelash curler and applying mascara and rearranging earrings all at the same time, and you think about reminding her, again, that it doesn't matter what she looks like if you never actually, you know, leave - but then the hair dryer switches off.

“Hey.” Sana ignores the concern and swivels to ask which earrings match which necklace - two pairs are laid across the countertop; they look exactly the same; you love her, desperately, but for the record, you've never been any good at telling jewelry apart. Neither the knowledge-set nor the motivation; she looks fucking gorgeous in everything regardless-

The front door clicks then, and Miyeon bursts through with the force of an entire hurricane - and promptly stops, dead. You forget what the hell she said, but the story was: she'd just gotten back from the worst date in her life. She's in tears, sobbing. It's a mess. She's a mess. You can't leave.

She falls right into Sana's arms. Then Sana throws a pointed, triumphant grin your way, and says to Miyeon - and you remember this, word for word, verbatim - "Aw, baby. Don't worry. Let us take care of you. We'll make you forget all about him, okay?"

This is the long and short of it: Miyeon arrives, in tears. You never make it to dinner and a show. And the night ends more or less how it started - with Miyeon still pretty much crying, but only because you two won't stop. With your fingers, your mouths. Sana knows what her tongue's doing; Miyeon is loud - and responsive. She's gorgeous too. She's so into it. She needs someone who is genuinely in love with her, who isn't going to try and push her around. You slip your cock into her and that's pretty much it, a different kind of curtain call; Miyeon gets Sana's thumb rolling at her clit and, yeah - she's fucking gone. She cums on your cock like she’s dying, like you’re killing her. It's as simple as that.

Now, there are several instances of which this is the case, in chronological order:

a.) The first time, in Sana's bed.

b.) The second time is in the back of Miyeon's hatchback. Tight fit for three people. It's a do-not-recommend.

c.) The third time, when they want to try blindfolding Miyeon while she rides your cock in the living room. The girl can't see shit, you break some IKEA furniture you can’t pronounce the name of, and the condom comes off during the whole process. There’s this unsettling, world-rocking possibility in which you get Miyeon fucking legitimately pregnant via oopsie-daisy. So, you and Sana wind up spooned up with Miyeon between you two and discuss the eventuality, should it arise - what you will all do in the future, the consequences, what Miyeon and Sana will say to Miyeon's and Sana's families - what the fuck you'll tell the rest of your friends, let alone the press - and then, deciding together: hey, well maybe this is actually a really bad idea.

d.) The fourth, fifth, sixth and every time after that where you realize that you're just gonna roll it all back and pretend like this is completely normal. Two's company, three's kind of a fever dream - but this is the platonic ideal of groupthink. It works. It just does; you know how to fit the pieces together now. How to read her body language: the one-two-one rhythm, Sana and Miyeon and then Miyeon-and-Sana; where their hands are, where they're moving; Miyeon's choked little sobs and the breathless gasps when your cock is deep inside her; all the unintelligible murmurs passing between the two of them that you can't understand - but none of them ever really matter. The important thing is that she's put her two front teeth in your left collarbone while you fuck into her slow and deliberate, in a way she can really feel. You cover Sana's mouth with your palm, your fingers pressed against the pulsing heat in her pussy, and you make them both cum over and over until they’re eyes are screwed shut and they’re counting stars.

That's about it. That's all the things.)

-

"I call it being spoiled for choice," Sana says, pausing only momentarily to decide in the mirror of Miyeon's makeup vanity whether or not to take off the bracelet on her wrist. 

The glint that strikes off the metal is gold in the bedroom lights, all warm yellow and sparkling silver. Sana narrows her fingers, pulls it off, on - like you've caught her trying on clothes, the latest fashion in a store front window. A stylistic consideration. It matches the rings on her third and fourth fingers. She decides that it suits her. 

"Lo and behold," Sana continues, "we have a real situation on our hands. In your hands. Whatever, you get my drift."

"Your cock," adds Miyeon, smiling like sunshine. She’s tracing you over your pants with her thumb, and she’s got her doe-eyed grin on, the one that promises something sugar-sweet, kneeling between your thighs at the edge of her bed - the slightest dishevel of her hair, kiss-swollen lips. God, what a picture. Her pupils flare when her fingers reach the top button of your pants. "And what's worse? I'm going to die if I can't have at least, you know. A couple minutes alone with it."

"You'd figure out a way to die either way," Sana muses. She leans backwards in Miyeon's desk chair, tugging idly at the hem of her skirt.

They're not usually dressed alike, and that's the weirdest part - Sana's never had Miyeon's particular taste for the tiny gauche dresses and white converse shoes and glossy nails, not unless it’s some matching outfit that she's being bullied into. Today's no different: the soft fabric of Miyeon's slip of dress barely stretches down to the line of her thigh. The hem starts just below the boundary of innocuous and everything else. She’d been hiking it up all evening. And the straps lay so thin across her shoulders that one little tug in the wrong spot would probably send it skidding all the way down to the floor.

That's the main thing on your mind when you get one in between your fingers.

Miyeon simply shoulders the other, rolling it down to hang loose, leaving the dress hanging off the gentle slope of her chest.

"Pretty," you say out loud.

"I know," she says, holding the grin.

She can make the world smile, it's infectious - and your gaze follows the path: from the blonde-shiny hair spilling over a collarbone, to the peeking line of her bra, to the flutter of the bottom of her dress at her hip. You catch the subtle lace trim, the little patterns embroidered into the waist, and decide her body's a gift - and wrapping it is something divine, something meant to be ripped right to shreds. If no one else is willing to volunteer, then it'll fall on you. Sure, sure, sure. You can be thanked later.

"Lose it," you request, quietly.

"Mr. Impatient," is what Sana sniffs out, scoffing. She's lounged back on the other side of Miyeon's makeup counter. Her heel taps away at empty air, bouncing off the end of her foot, that hot little fucking rhythm she's had going since her partner in crime got in your lap and kissed you right down into oblivion. "You want to get her naked and get inside of her, huh?"

"Is that not why you dragged me here?" you counter.

"Oh, don't put this on me." Her expression slides right into the mischievous smirk you're familiar with. Miyeon’s often sporting the same one.

"He wants to bend you over, princess," she tells Miyeon, and you hear the wistful sigh through her parted lips come out like permission. "Not that I can say I'd blame him. When's the last time you've taken cock again?"

"With him last week." She throws the response to Sana. They look, more than anyone, to be in sync in their one-upmanship.

"Hmm," says Sana, and she’s looking right at you. "Check how tight that dress fits over her hips, don't you just want to tear it right off of her?"

"He's not doing that," says Miyeon, but there's the lilting tease in her voice that signals precisely the opposite. She wants it: wants it like sugar and soda, salt water taffy; wants to be stripped like skin, bared to the bone. Her knees spread, just a little. "Not yet, anyway. Right now," she adds, hand fluttering towards the inside of her thigh, supplying touches right over the lace, "I want to suck his cock."

"Such a slut," Sana teases, tilting her head.

"You'll get yours," Miyeon insists, before pulling your cock out of your boxers with a small smile, curling her fingers around it, leaning forward. "God, this thing." She has the head under the palm of her other hand, and a wet-tipped promise on her lower lip.

You thread your hand into the hair aside Miyeon's temple, gentle and what will seem in a moment: paradoxically-tender. 

"Imagine what it'll do to your mascara when I fuck your mouth."

Miyeon licks her lips. You reckon she’s completely aware how it comes across - the wicked fantasy she is.

"I'm imagining what it'll do to you when she chokes," Sana retorts. 

“When he fills up my throat,” Miyeon says, hungry.

Sana sighs, sounding utterly wistful, and she fixes the same unrepentant look on you. "Poor Miyeon is just starved for cum tonight. Aww," she remarks, sweetly, "The poor thing. Do me a favor won't you? Fuck my pretty little friend in the face."

"Well," is all you get out before you look up at Sana. "Yours too, honey."

"Hardly, the same," Miyeon cuts in primly, glancing sideways at Sana. There is some snobbishness implied; there are ways Sana and Miyeon have always found to subtly measure themselves against one another, to best each other - all of these ridiculous acts and anecdotes. Like their voices aren’t replicas of one another - and in constant disagreement over whoever is currently claiming to be the original.

Miyeon prissily tilts her jaw up. "Your ego might actually be the worst part about you, Sana. That and your tits."

"Guess he just loves all the worst parts," Sana quips, rolling her eyes, "and every time you call it into question I fall in love with him a little more."

She's got one foot up now on the seat of the chair and she's running her fingers, delicate and teasing, around the press of her panties. It's not a voyeuristic thing, she's told you, it's less about watching Miyeon get fucked than it is about knowing exactly what it looks like when she herself gets spread out beneath you. She watches you and Miyeon, she watches her best friend and you, and she touches herself and it's perfect. There's a few seconds, long and warm, before she lifts her fingers away, then sucks them into her mouth with a grin. Just the slightest taste.

"But seriously," she says to Miyeon. "If you're gonna do something - then do it. Don't be a tease. We both know the answer, anyway."

Miyeon swallows. You hear her. You watch her lips wrap around the head of your cock and pop off, wet and shining, and her head rests in the curve of your palm.

"I’m working on it," Miyeon allows, lowly - she pumps her fist again around you, careful with the motion; this little twisting tug. "Fuck, it's not even the fact that it's fucking huge, or. Like, it’s not because I’m dying to get stuffed by this, or because I’m sitting here thinking: oh my fuck, I’m gonna feel so full with this thing inside me."

You have her hand under her chin, thumb stroking gently against her cheek. Her eyes return to yours when you put a little more pressure in your grip. She’s fantastically pretty, and the gleam of lust and want in her irises has you probably too eager to play along. 

“So then, what could it possibly be?”

"It's-" Her cheeks darken pink beneath her blush, stumbling through a mouthful of ums and uhs as her eyes make tiny departures back to your waist until she finally gives up and just stares again.

Sana sits up a little in her chair.

"Look, this is the prettiest cock I've ever seen.” 

You and Sana almost snort in unison.

“I’m serious.” Miyeon rubs a semi-circle over the head with her thumb, glancing up at you beneath her mascara, and then to the base, back up. It jerks, almost like reflex, in her grasp; she huffs in delight. "It’s, like, perfect in every way. And, god, everytime- I’d just about do anything to feel it inside me."

“You’d beg?” Sana asks, eyebrow raised.

“I’m about to get down on my knees and grovel, honey.”

"Should've just said," Sana laughs - Miyeon chews her lip, half-exasperated, and drops a kiss to the tip that makes Sana's expression simper - "you’re halfway there. Want him to cum in that sweet mouth?"

"Want him to tell me what he's going to do," says Miyeon, frilly. "Every last detail."

Lips stretching open, fingers splaying, curling around the weight - she dips her head to rest her cheek on your thigh and kisses the underside of your shaft. She’s practically like liquid. Flowing and easy and gorgeous, always gorgeous, too far gone to form a full thought. That much is obvious. And why shouldn't it be - your hand's already snagged up, your thumb's already wiping the hair out of her eyes. She turns to let it sit against the edge of her cheekbone. "You really need an incentive? Want you to fill me up so I can-"

"Swallow," you supply, simply. “Swallow everything.”

"Yeah," Miyeon presses into the curve of your cock. She doesn't wink, not really; she doesn’t need to. "I like you. You always know exactly what to say."

Her hair brushes a feather-light caress up the skin of your thigh, mouth a vision of sin and pretty red lipstick. "Open," you command, quietly, and she follows your orders exactly - mouth dropping, head tilting, eyes drifting closed - her lips glisten with saliva and you could shove your cock into that mouth, easy. Just push in and wreck the inside of her - spit on her chin, feel her throat clench up as she gags and struggles around your cock. God, if that isn't a thought that can do a number on the base of your spine.

"Easy," Sana supplies, like she can read your mind. That wouldn’t really surprise you. “Leave some of her make-up for me.”

There's the quick hiss of an inhale, Miyeon's mouth stretching open. Her jaw going slack. You feel the long, wet suck of skin and spit, and her eyelids flutter as she settles in. She slides her tongue and adjusts, makes soft, raspy, throaty noises while her lips slide down the first few inches of your cock. It’s funny - Sana had made the same sound earlier in the day - and it's really not like it's an awful comparison. They both let on gorgeous little noises when they're sucking cock and it makes sense because it's the same cock. Same skin. Same person.

You're not, however, about to do something so pedestrian as compare notes. Not on them. Not in the fucking slightest.

And Sana, god - Sana doesn't just watch. She knows better. She's not even the one taking your cock in her mouth but there's the insistent presence of her: a fingertip diving down past the crotch of her skirt, a quiet moan, her wrist jolting in a repetition of short, sharp strokes, the kind she likes to use on herself: precise. Deliberate.

"Miyeon," you whisper. "God, just - it's your fucking mouth, you-"

The hand on her face strokes the side of her head - a push-pull. A chance to break off - she doesn't - so she ends up with a rougher grip tangling through her hair and you guiding her head further down the length of your shaft.

Miyeon loves the pressure on her throat. You know that. And, yeah, she fucking hates choking on it but somehow in her mind, they're different. Opposites. Because with the way she's going, a little cough will burst free in a few seconds time. That’s your signal, you’ve learned, that she'll let you slide yourself to the hilt. Just keep the wet tip lodged there until she starts gasping around it. It'd only take a minute.

Two tops.

And well, that's the compromise: your patience for a throat fuck is infinite. She's staring up at you with upturned brows and that pretty-please pout on her slick-wet lips. She's making her best effort but, christ. Fuck.

Her eyelids flicker once.

Then close.

"There," you breathe down to her, your knuckles finding her cheek, smoothing over the sharp curve of bone there. Your cock is slotted right in her hot little mouth and you're starting to feel like maybe you really did hang the moon and stars in the sky after all. Her lips press around you. Sink, up, down. "Such a good girl, sucking my cock, looking up at me- god, all dolled up, it's not even fair, Miyeon."

Miyeon can be many things, and presently among them: a filthy, obedient angel.

She pulls up. "I try," Miyeon breathes right at the tip. Her tongue darts out. She swirls, and swirls, until it’s back under the tip of your cock again, soft.

You're too predictable, or you're too forthcoming, or here’s the thing about a woman's intuition; Miyeon wants to tell you something more, she wants to let you know how fucking unbelievably hard you are in her hands right now; she wants to laugh at you for getting caught up and dumb but she's not letting your cock slide free. This suckle of her lips, right at the crest where you're most sensitive and leaking precum right into her mouth - this press and pull is as close to conversation as she can get. So what. You love it. She loves it: the reward is in the ricochet. You look at her and her cheeks hollow and the flash of her pink tongue gets wet and warm under your head, the slit of her mouth stretching to take every ‘totally fucking perfect’ inch of your cock.

And then her lips tighten and she just-

"Christ, Miyeon-" You whimper it right down to her, your voice lost in the shiver of her throat, all tight and wet around your cock. It's like your vocal cords have been stolen right along with the air in your lungs and everything feels floaty, warped and red and blanketing you with Miyeon's hard-worked rhythm:

The scissoring flick of her tongue as she strokes the base with a firm fist. The other hand resting on your hip, feeling your hips jerk. She wants this, the part where you let go and stop thinking. The part where she opens her throat, lets her saliva flood to pool against her palm, and wet the tip of your cockhead before letting it slide right back in her throat. Your shaft flexing into her heat, the sound of those gags.

She just-

She just goes on like that, sucking your cock while the flat of her palm skates a little tighter. Up, up, down - up-

"Miyeon," Sana says, now on her feet and shadowing in closer, leaning. And that's it. Sana knows too. She kneels down next to her, gets a finger under her chin, and delivers in a uniquely cold tone: "hands behind your back, sweetheart. I want him to cum in your gorgeous little mouth."

You nearly choke, ironically. You're already grabbing so much of her hair: all those smooth silky strands threaded through your fingers.

You thrust and pull. She gags. She fucking chokes.

Spit collects, rolls down the corners of her mouth and gathers on her chin. You can see the mascara threaten to run tracks along her pretty cheeks, the way the makeup smudges so dangerously close to her bottom lid. "Yeah?" you say, so softly, but you can't - can't seem to look anywhere else, or take anything back - so, what, her jaw's just gonna go on being that perfect little shape, and she's gonna be a brat for it. Okay. That works. She looks good choking. You can see the slick glint of her pink mouth stretching taut on your cock, your cock jerking and bobbing on the pad of her tongue; it's not real - no, this is completely real. The ball of your foot slips along the floor.

It's instinct. You can't help yourself; a groan spills out of you, half-sighed

Sana's whispering right in her ear; not that you can make anything out of it over the noises from her mouth, her fist all wet, pumping. The tick-tock bob of her hair. Sana's hand is on the back of her head and then - pushing the last inch down, and down, her nose buries right into your skin.

“Mnnph.” Miyeon, gurgling: your cock pressed all the way down the line.

"Fuck," you spit, holding her jaw in place. "Fuck, Miyeon-"

She looks up at you, her eyebrows cinched, the graceful lines in her picture-perfect-face pulling around you - blissed out. She stutters in place while you dump a hot load of cum into her mouth.

And she adds a cough as you pump everything directly onto her fucking tongue. It’s more than she anticipated, judging by the leak. How your cum rolls down from the corner of her mouth.

Sana drops a kiss onto her temple as she takes you in and out of her mouth again, until she presses her lips firm and hollows her cheeks. Miyeon's fingers caress your balls like there's some part of you that isn't giving her fucking everything already.

"Come on, princess," says Sana, kissing her way along Miyeon's neck, the tops of her shoulders. There is not an angle to Miyeon's elegant features that she could take that could possibly be anything short of priceless. "Show him how you swallow."

The image is obscene, for one thing. The utter filth in that satiated hum; there’s another. 

It's your white-hot cum dribbling past her swollen, fucked mouth. Miyeon swallows like the good girl she is - takes a breath, stares, and then finishes, a gulp, an extra breath, her whole face now a shade more flushed. Sana kisses her on the cheek and suddenly it's perfect: they're both staring right at you. Your throat has to unclench, reboot and the air in the room just tastes so good and your chest is heaving; you just- fuck, you can't breathe-

"Shit," you exhale. It comes out like a small explosion. "Uh-"

The side of Sana's mouth slants and then Miyeon grins: it's her cheek, dimple; that crescent moon thing and oh, this is the point. Sana slides a hand over the gentle curve of her stomach, then sets her open mouth over Miyeon's still-lips, slipping in close and - kissing. Their mouths melt together like it's the most practiced thing, tongues a second later, and Sana is stroking your cock in her fingers; the expectations clear in every little coaxing flick of her slim wrist.

"Do you have any idea," Sana sighs against her lips. The two of them, blinking up at you, like good little things - sweet enough. "How fucking wet you both have me?"

And Miyeon, shameless as she is disastrously pretty, reads right between the lines. "Where do you want it?" Her mouth tilts up to the side. A wicked smile. "He can cum all over us, no? And I have this skirt with an awfully short, pretty lace. We don't even have to take our clothes off, really, I can just-"

Sana gets an eyeful - Miyeon - before cutting her off, silencing with the wet press of her mouth, and suddenly their kiss goes frantic and quick. They're rolling apart: hands tearing up their clothes. Off. Off. Off.

Your cock stirs. It throbs. Fuck. Sana’s barely intelligible in the space between their tongues. "I could lay flat,” she’s saying, “with my legs open, and-"

"-with him on top of you, pressing inside you - so he could hold me down, and then pull all the way back out, to leave a thick load on your clit-"

"-and when he has to pull out-"

"-probably cum all over you too, the best view-"

"-or all over the rest of me, while I touch myself-"

"-maybe-"

"-and you just have to imagine how good that'll feel, while my thighs shake and we ride it out, you and I-"

Their faces - both flushed and dampened with the strain, both breathtaking. Their eyes are hooded, lashes a-flutter. They'd made their own decision, didn't even bother with yours. A mutual vote of two-to-one: you're going to fuck them in turns. You’re going to fuck them together. You're going to edge yourself in one cunt and fill the other. They're both going to take it, and wear it, and then use each other to make you cum again. Good. Okay, any questions - and they want it rough? 

The answer’s a two-part chorus. Yes.

-

Not even an hour later, Miyeon is playing, of all fucking things, Candy Crush, legs draped lazily across Sana's lap, both of them kicked back on the couch, dressed again like the best girls you've ever seen. "The amount of money they make on this app-" Miyeon complains, waving a lazy hand. A long strand of blonde brushes against the corner of her mouth before she swipes it away again with an irritated sigh. She's just sitting there, knees folded, blithely bitching about a game of match three on her phone. "And they send these fucking blocks just to mess with me," - another swipe. Her hair sticks against the fresh gloss coating her lips. "It's literally just a waste of human-fucking-potential."

"It's a game for children," you offer.

"Then why is it marketed at adults, hm?" She's absolutely serious. "Sana plays it too."

"Mhmm," Sana agrees, not really agreeing at all. Her eyes are closed; you're sitting next to her, and she's taken up your leg as a makeshift pillow, lying down with her arm resting on her forehead, so casually disinterested in anything other than the quiet thrumming of your presence by her side.

It's insane that they're like this: like they're not constantly checking their phones for texts, like you don't all have lives. You're almost - dare you think - having a semi-regular conversation. Now If for a moment you could ignore how they both look like the human embodiment of sin-

"Miyeonie," Sana says.

"Sana," Miyeon returns, flat.

There's not even a movie playing on the living room TV - just the netflix menu; it's volume is at a sort of white noise. A subtle buzz clicks on in the air conditioner.

"You know how you're supposed to go out with that guy next weekend."

"You mean the date you set me up with." Miyeon pauses, tongue caught between her teeth. "Where I have to put on a pretty little dress. And smile. And laugh at all his jokes."

"You know the one."

Miyeon jumps on Sana's train of thought. "You want me to send you some pictures when it's over."

Sana turns it over in her head a few times. “Maybe,” she says, finally.

A genuine exchange perhaps. No fighting, no bullshit, no riptide of pure unbridled sexual frustration.

"Or," Sana adds, simply, "you skip the part where you sabotage the small talk and come back to our apartment." She blinks. "End up getting us both."

“You’re suggesting I’ve been ruining dates on purpose?” Miyeon, incredulous, runs her fingers through the hair at the top of her head, gentle, almost like an admission of guilt. "You're out of your mind. Why would I do that?"

The fragile peace never does last long. Sana looks at you again. Holds onto the eye roll. "Why, indeed."

"I don't follow," Miyeon says; something, a tic, a tell, causes the muscle in her brow to stutter.

"She's suggesting that you'd rather be in bed between us than on a date with some guy whose face we've only seen once," you cut in. Sana looks over. "It's come up a few times."

"Okay, so what?" Miyeon takes a breath. Her mouth a rictus twist. "You're trying to get me to admit it out loud? That I like to get fucked by my gorgeous bestfriend and her pinterest-board-of-a-boyfriend more than I'd like going to a mediocre concert downtown with some dipshit who just wants to see if I'll stick out this 'goddess' routine for a month or two and then bounce for someone else. Wow. Sherlock and Watson, coming through for the killshot. Take me straight to jail."

"We never got around to those cuffs," is what you make mention of. It's not particularly helpful.

"Don't pretend," Sana says instead, "you don’t like to play both sides. Or that the trad-wife fantasy of yours is somehow subtle."

“There's nothing shameful about knowing exactly who you are, or wanting something," Miyeon insists. She tilts her head towards the two of you. A different angle. Her words come out sharp and hot: "some of us have the decency to let our friends know exactly what they want."

“Okay.” You laugh out loud, half out of nervous habit. "Well obviously there’s some sort of rhythm here - I’m just not dumb enough to think I can put a finger on the pulse."

"Then this is, what, some sort of elaborate plot for my heart?" Miyeon's chuckling to herself, but in the space of a blink her voice is more tender. Her arms folding in close. "Is that the plan, finally catching me-"

"Next week." Sana sits up. "There's a trip coming up, something kind of international." She picks at the hem of her sweater, and looks at you.

“What the hell, exactly” - you card your hand through Sana’s hair - “does ‘kind of’ international entail?”

"Ms. Prada has a modeling campaign to attend," Miyeon intones. "She also needs someone to take care of the jetlag, is what I assume this is about."

Sana waves her hand in the air. "I'm saying we book you an extra ticket. Rent a room at a nice hotel. No work. No phones. Just us three, and the best sex you've ever had."

“I wasn’t even aware I was going to that,” you say - almost as an aside.

“You weren’t.” Sana leans more of herself into you. "You are now."

"Is this how you're going to woo me? The grand design?" Miyeon's hands are fiddling in her lap. Sana’s pressing in. Closer. "All the sex and leisure I could ever ask for?"

“It sounds ridiculous when you say out loud,” Sana answers, curling into her. “But, yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

Miyeon laughs like it’s a lost cause. Genuine, throaty - like music.

“Simplicity doesn’t have to be a bad thing, Miyeon.” Sana kisses her, slow. Quietly, "you could even pack a swimsuit," and there's this beat, the rise and fall of Miyeon's breathing that might lead anywhere: "though I doubt we touch the beach at all."

“You’re pulling on all my heartstrings, Sana.”

And there you are - etching your names onto the calendar. Reservations and bookings and promises of everything and anything and exactly where you all want to be.

It's Miyeon that finally admits, "you know part of me can’t resist the idea."

"Then, this weekend." Sana's fingertips trace circles on your hip, the tensing pull of muscle. You're aching and exhausted and content: drifting in the tide, a catch of the day, some soft, dreamy wave of consciousness, nothing specific, just the moment passing through all three of you.

But you do get it. There's this obvious snag in your heartbeat, too.

Because Sana is grinning; her fingertips, tapping. Your stomach's fluttering too. A little ghostly clutch of hope in your chest and it's such an embarrassing notion. You're getting swept away - pulled under - and it's Miyeon, splaying out beside Sana, her hand reaching out to you with her palm turned up. It's a promise, and the force of her can - and has - moved mountains.

"I pick the hotel," Miyeon's voice is deeply firm and sure. She’s got a fistful of Sana’s pajamas. "You two can sort out the lingerie."

Sana's mouth curves a perfect grin. She's kissing her again: wet. Heavy. It's not a no, if she was ever expecting one.

-

So that's your reality: what used to be two dalliances - separate but not distinct - now share one headspace, and there's enough rapport just in the group chat alone. You've all been messaging back-and-forth for weeks; Miyeon playing the game where she's the steady one in your life, the knot you're going to tie down when you can finally afford it (and in every way she can imagine). You find it entertaining. Sana seems mildly amused. And Miyeon will call you on the phone, sometimes. A chat-off. About nothing and everything. What you should bring on the trip. Where she's going to eat dinner before you meet her at the airport. Et cetera. Et cetera.

// Miyeon 1:21 AM > hey. I'm all finished packing. how's the bedroom looking?

// 1:26 AM > absolutely wrecked. no survivors

// Sana 1:27 AM > It’s fine. We stripped the sheets, got the box from the closet. Have the video you wanted as well. Call the laundry service in the morning and get the floor washed too. You know. So, nothing comes out of the security deposit.

// Miyeon 1:29 AM > a threesome that destroyed an apartment? say it isn't so

// Sana 1:34 AM > didn't hear you complain during.

// 1:38 AM > strict instructions, right?

And then sometimes, during those conversations, Miyeon will send an aside just for you:

// Miyeon 1:40 AM > strict? please. do whatever. I'm like so good at following instructions

That's Miyeon. The paradox of being submissive - you never, ever treat her gently. She never really wants you to. Sana's mid-reach over your chest to turn off the lights when she glances down at Miyeon's text, then promptly scoffs. The two of them don't always have the most conventional dialogue.

"She's one hundred percent serious by the way." Sana rolls on her side, away, but the nightlight beside the bed just manages to illuminate the slope of her ass - curved in the silk nightie she'd thrown on before bed. You want to crawl between the fabric.

"I never really doubted that. She's got a very specific... demeanor.”

“You’ve noticed.”

“Um,” you say. Sana’s turned over her shoulder to blink at you. “Kind of a dark streak. Like something in her is craving-"

"To be broken to pieces? Oh, it's fucking bliss for her when she's vulnerable and the tension cracks." 

“I was going to phrase it a little more indirectly than that, but yes, I suppose that’s the gist of it.”

Sana shrugs. 

"The girl lives to be chased is what it is.

It's just Sana and her perfect legs and smooth, creamy thighs right there, ready for you to touch, ready for you to fall apart over. They brush your calf, your thigh - so you are kind of distracted. 

“And she feels most wanted when she's choking, getting used, right at the point she can't decide if another inch is gonna kill her or drive her up the wall. No air in her lungs, nothing under her own control." Sana flops, presses against your side, one leg tossed on top, arms curled around your neck. "Pretty obvious, all things considered."

"Sounds a bit familiar, no?" you tease, and reach back to draw her against the front of your body. 

She curves, twists into your embrace. Her hair is half up, half down - wide eyed like a fantasy made manifest. You're always gonna give in, even when Sana doesn't deserve it. 

"You get me. It’s the best. Please, go nuts with the idea."

“Huh, birds of a feather.”

“Sure, whatever,” Sana brushes a kiss against your cheek, presses back into your hips to feel your hard length strain between your boxers and her ass, softening only because, god, she's a real human fucking treasure, "so maybe Miyeon and I have a certain… similar temperment to us, maybe that's true."

"Yeah," you breathe. Your arms wrap around her, the heat in her core now evident from the outside. "That's what I've been saying."

Sana doesn't respond to that, not directly; her palms drag, smooth, over your fingers. "Fuck me to sleep," she suggests instead. "We've got an early flight."

And so you do. You'd pulled your cock from your shorts the second she pressed her ass into your waist and claimed her place as your other half, the little spoon. There's a few beats, a few breaths, where you'd rocked against her clumsily, lining yourself up, and she'd braced the two of you:

She'd arched her back, got an arm over her head to tangle a hand into your hair and keep you right where you were - your lips against her neck. Until it's just this soft-rhythm, all easy thrusts; one arm underneath her, the other around her hip, finding and spreading and - easily - gliding into her cunt.

Sana sighs a lovely sound right next to your ear: your name, some hushed curse. Her hand is wrenched back into whatever group of muscles she can find. And you listen to the gorgeous little tritone of oh shit, oh god, oh fuck when you make her cum. The displays of indulgent affection in her throat, then the ruddy mess of you working her to a wreck of pleasured exhaustion until she collapses into a hot-faced, sleepy daze. All cozy between the sheets, the duvet - you’d fucked her from the outside in; made her relieved and relaxed, all loose and calm. Sana curls into you with her moans still staining the cool side of her pillow and the snugness of her cunt wrapped around your cock.

You drift off just like that, snug inside her. Sana is, as always, impossibly warm.

-

On your phone, there are some choice text messages:

// Miyeon 2:18 AM > jesus

// Miyeon 2:18 AM > can you guys like please

// Miyeon 2:18 AM > PLEASE

// Miyeon 2:18 AM > fuck any quieter

Okay, so it's not perfect. But you're about ninety-percent sure Miyeon had used every fiber of her willpower not to float across the hall and take her spot between the both of you. And it's probably for the best. You feel pretty rough when the alarm starts blaring as it is.

-

The room Miyeon picks out isn’t exactly small, nor was she minding the purse strings. There's a wide expanse of living area, a massive bed in the back; the ensuite and bath beyond that has a walk-in shower large enough for all three of you and room left over. On the walls is gentrification-colored paint, a gray laminate flooring to match; there is not one speck of dust. It feels every bit the palace it is on the outside - the gables and mansard roofs and the Juliette balconies - gothic, or neoclassical. Something vaguely European, with all its rich furnishings and pristine fixtures to boot.

Sana and Miyeon step into the space with all the familiarity of royalty.

"Warm in here," says Sana, appraising; her black chiffon, nearly translucent, fans about her hips with each tiny sway. In her white pumps, she's already a perfect tease and she hasn't even touched herself yet. "Smells good, though."

Miyeon's heels echo behind her like gunshots against the floor, and it's really not ever fair the way a skirt wears her. "The listing said something about a hospitality kit, and essential oils - there should be a basket of things. Do you want me to start the water?"

"Let's settle in a little first," Sana suggests, and without any fanfare, the first thing she does is draw the gauzy curtain closed.

There's an itinerary; it's an ongoing event. Technically it all started in the airport terminal when Sana slung her arm around Miyeon's waist and her hand went straight down to her ass. She just gave it a little squeeze. In the moment, nothing terribly remarkable, but then again, Miyeon didn't tell her not to. They walked through security like that and picked out drinks together from a terminal cafe before doing a circuit, fingers linked. The way Sana looks at her now - Miyeon sees - is how she's always looked at her. That is maybe, the whole point.

"Come here."

Sana's tone is smooth as silk, her mouth an inviting pucker, gloss-dewy and delicious. The bow is even tied at the back: Sana's collar is fitted snug. It sits tight at the base of her neck with the silvery cord loose across her shoulder, knotted down near the apex of her spine. It's simple, classic. All soft fabric and no frill, with an absence that invites eyes and wandering fingertips: she hasn't worn a bra. No strap lines. Her body has the sweetest outline and the warmest curves and god, the skin she's not showing is as good as what she is.

"So," you say out loud. It hits you: there's no cameras, no urgency. No obligations. "We came all the way here just so Sana could have sex, huh."

It's really always about the two of them.

"Good sex," Sana corrects. The table next to her catches the flat of her palm as she settles herself against the surface, one leg crossing in front. The slit in her dress rises in the movement: enough of a hint at the soft thigh underneath. You see her do this every once in a while and her body doesn't lie; this is an implicit act of seduction. But when she looks back up, her smile goes shy and her voice follows suit: "I promised our princess that we'd spoil her a little."

You say, "she's right there," at the same time Sana adds- "which is kind of impossible when she's still wearing her clothes."

Miyeon makes a big, showy production of crossing her arms in a huff. You could do anything; flip a switch; knock her flat against the wall, and Sana would hold her down with a hand at her throat and a kiss her like fire and gasoline on her tongue and no one would have a single word to say to complain.

You could have. Would have. But Miyeon finds her fingertips on the ridge of her clavicle, the barest swipe. She pulls at the top button of her shirt and the seam unlatches: a single reveal, a gradual, fluid movement in the dip and fall of a one inch gap. Just enough skin to make you and Sana swallow.

"Oh?" Miyeon grins. She stares at you with that coy smirk, biting her lip; an invitation for a kiss. For a fuck. You cross the gap, with every intention of making good on it; only, Sana slips in behind her - stops her midway in undoing the next button - and places a hand on the nape of Miyeon's neck, cool.

"She really can be a brat, can't she."

"Only because she gets rewarded for it," you admit, and as soon as Sana touches her, Miyeon is looking up with that same face she gives you when she gets on her knees, ready to be just your little pet, your desperate, whimpering thing.

Sana leans into her ear: "maybe because she knows she can't stop thinking about you bending her over, every chance she gets. Isn’t that right, pretty girl?"

They've always been like this, you think. Growing up with money and cars and ski vacations in the Alps: that sort of thing. It's been a long, slow, build-up and this was always the payoff. It is, without a doubt, just the slightest taste of luxury. Sana pushes, and Miyeon turns up to her mouth with a slow, dangerous whisper. "Isn't it kinder to say it as it is, instead of dancing around it for weeks-"

"For months," corrects Sana, and then sliding into a far more generous tone, "mouths, fingers- or his cock?"

"Maybe," Miyeon lifts her chin like she's readying to kiss, "all three."

Her voice drips - purses her lips, and you're there again: at that fateful exchange. Everything about Miyeon has the power to sink its claws deep. Those heels on her dainty little feet, the stockings climbing along her thighs. Everything.

"Miyeon." That comes out harsher than you'd have thought.

"What can I say? I'm not a patient person." She's got that wild, starry-eyed look to her. You could tame her. You could dominate her - your throat is so dry. The room has the faint scent of citrus, like lemon rind and verbena - a kind of lightheadedness settling over you all. "So, why don't you..." She's blushing, holding her arm up as she skims a finger down this slow path along your torso, finally hooking it into the top of your pants. And now, it's very, very clear she isn't wearing a bra either. "Make things a bit easier."

There's an entire lexicon of everything you'd like to do, so it's best, maybe, that you settle for: "Sana, be a doll."

"Anything," she says; she doesn't hesitate. You like the easy give.

And it's kind of amazing. All three of you together and, sure, the way her fingertips tighten, sliding under the curve of Miyeon's chin and then pulling the linen shirt down from the backs of her shoulders - this is a choice you can all agree on. One that pulls on the elastic band hugging the cut of Miyeon's waist, makes the material drag and ride up the front of her legs. Her belly. Sana has the gift of being able to kiss so perfectly on the back of someone's neck that you could easily forget she can get a little mean, too.

"What is it, baby." Sana asks; a challenge, not a question. "Come on, love. You know it's true. Why don't you let me show him how sweetly you moan with just a pair of fingers in your cunt."

"Please do."

"You're practically wet just saying it. You want it that much." Her voice goes thin, then deep again: a stark contrast. "Show him the mess you've made."

Miyeon's hand is in all the way in your pants; you feel hot. Like the room's air conditioning should've kicked on a lifetime ago - you're trying not to think too much on the way her slender fingers start to wrap themselves around the shape of your cock and your mouth falls open, because she can just - fuck - do that-

They turn to each other like mirror images over the slope of Miyeon’s shoulder, exchanging some secretive wordlessness in the privacy of their smiles and soft, muted laughter. Miyeon's on the toes of those pretty pumps to lean in, closer, further, and Sana lets her.

Which is exactly how it happens: Miyeon kissing you. And she really kisses you, sweet, delicate - and somehow all-consuming. It sets off this chain reaction, a wildfire of unbridled desire: that thread in Sana that can be almost violent, and one that Miyeon always manages to bring to the surface of her skin. Because now Miyeon's gripped and pinned, and Sana, bless her, pulls the fabric of her own dress up over her head until she's naked alongside her. Working towards a common goal. Here's two hands. Here's two more. They're helping you out of your shirt. It's pretty easy from there. You're all unraveling together, just falling apart - Sana and you, working in tandem to unclasp the pearl snap buttons trailing up and down the sides of Miyeon's sinfully short skirt, peeling back the cotton. Miyeon holds the swell of your cock tight in one hand, pumping, while Sana rakes her nails over Miyeon's breasts; both girls taking off the final scraps until every article of clothing is tossed to the floor.

And Miyeon here is simply unbelievable. Your hands are all over her. Her razor-fine waist, her thighs. Her lips. Those soft tits, and that cute mole above her nipple. Because even her imperfections deserve the same lavish attention.

You kiss her, and kiss her, and you can't help thinking how filthy it feels. This wet mouth and tongue, everything you could want in the slide of her mouth - just, messy-perfect and a bit sloppy; how her whimpers leak out in soft, a tight inhale. You cup the side of her jaw as your hips grind into her and a low, uneven sound escapes you. Sana's small fingers wrap her ribs to grip a breast, knead the supple curve and supply her thumb to the indent. It's really, so soft, and warm, and then wet: your precum dribbling over her knuckles, rolling down. Miyeon has her head tilted to let her jaw lean into your palm - she smiles, and laughs like it's nothing - like you're not there, towering over her lithe little frame. Like the head of your cock isn't brushing into her bottom rib under all the twists and jerks of her wrist.

"Your cock is so hard," Miyeon threads into a sigh, in that throaty, almost melodic voice. And then she laughs because she knows exactly what it’ll fucking do to her. "And fucking heavy. I thought I was going to get a real good look earlier in the airport," she confesses.

"Let me guess." Sana presses a kiss to her temple from behind; a lull in the scene. You fuck yourself gently into the curl of her fist. "You've been thinking about it this whole time. About getting him inside you. With that naughty little mind of yours running at a million miles an hour. God, that must've been such a tease, getting stuck with just the thought while we sat through lunch, and the flight-"

"Don’t forget right now-" Miyeon presses in. Her breath is hot against your neck. "While we're talking."

"Princess," Sana says into her ear, and it makes her tip her head - until she’s revealing the pale skin of her neck. God, yeah; maybe she really is nobility. "I'd be hard-pressed to leave you wanting. Your body's all wound up for us."

"She's fucking soaked," you confirm, like you aren't pointing out the most obvious thing in the room.

Miyeon bites her lip; you're gripping your shaft, urging her wrist to go faster. "This is the part where you turn me inside-out, no?" Miyeon is a walking fucking cliche and she knows it, smiling all slyly with her teeth. She says it so damn casually: "so why isn’t my pussy getting any attention, really. I wonder, I wonder-"

"Trust me, neither of us are interested in teasing," Sana assures her. "We're going to fuck you until you can't remember your own name. And then we'll fuck you some more."

You push down hard on her collarbone, and in that same instant Sana drops her free hand below and runs the flats of her fingertips along the plane of Miyeon’s tummy - until Miyeon tilts her hips - everything else still, almost lazy. Her feet leave the floor and then come back down again. The momentum of the fall ends up being enough to jostle the three of you towards the nearest wall where Sana's back is kissing the cold drywall. And you're already there - pressed into both: Miyeon's palms flat against your chest as you haul her thighs around your waist.

Hoisted, lifted, cradled between you and your girlfriend - who by the way is inching two fingertips under the top of a lacy-banded thong, slipping beneath the white trim, to finally (oh, god) pull her hand away and slip it into Miyeon's parted mouth. "Look at you." A hum in her chest. "The most beautiful, perfect-"

(You push your cock into her, and hand to god, you swear Miyeon's voice breaks like a bottle over pavement.)

"And all for us- your slutty little pussy is already so wet- Miyeonie, we've barely even started.”

Just think. The code word system you've been employing for months - "We were actually thinking... if you're not doing anything else... what's the harm in the two of us getting more familiar with you." - has proved exceptionally reliable in getting Miyeon out of her clothes and into your lap, but here's where it all vanishes into thin air. Sana's mouth is hovering over Miyeon's shoulder; her body, caught between the two of you. And she's trading in on the implied permission to tell you more directly:

"She needs to cum all over that cock, babe. Fuck her pussy until she’s creaming, won't you."

"Right." You groan in tacit approval, hands holding firm onto the firm swell of her hips - that round little ass, the dimples you can feel the dip of, just under your thumbs. She's already thrown her arms up around the back of your neck when your cock slips inside her, to tug you in; this wordless begging: need, need, need.

It's not even a totally new sensation. Nor is it even the first you've ever been inside her, but god - Miyeon takes one deep breath, and on the second inhale, you sink another thick inch of your cock into her slippery slit: she's completely, gloriously bare, just this slick heat that only opens more and more and more. You draw back, thrust in, and there's this sopping sound, all wet press, into the soft muscle - you don't even remember pulling her panties to the side. But they're bunched into the crease of her thigh and that's rather convenient.

Her breath hitches as she slots down onto your shaft, again - in rhythm - like a total dream. "Fuck, that's so tight," she grates, her voice rough and gutted; something like, 'I cannot believe you feel this good.'

-and they groan in unison when you pick up speed. All of it. Together.

Because it's not just Miyeon's perfect cunt wrapping you up tight, squeezing and pulsing, even better on the backstroke - but it's the way Sana is catching your lips in the space over Miyeon’s shoulder. That you three can play each other with the promise that every last moan or gasp or the single, resounding thrill of pleasure will find a perfect partner: one for your mouth and one for Sana's fingers at Miyeon's collar bone, a tickle along her hip, pressing an insistent fingertip around and around in small circles, dipping into the give.

Her body's shaking so much through every push and pull. Fuck. She's so small - and you're the one filling her. Fucking her. Breaking her. Pressing two girls into the wall like you've earned the right. You're splitting Miyeon apart so that Sana can fill the spaces you leave empty and vice versa: and she's so, so desperate, the little noises she's making, "Please," like it hurts. "Fuck," like it's the best feeling. "Keep going, please, fuck- don't stop."

"See, baby? It feels better when you just give up, doesn't it?" Sana's got her fingers down further between Miyeon's thighs; you can see her swipe upwards. Hear the wet sound. She says, "there," into her ear. "Nice and slow, while he fucks that cunt, and I rub you like this, we want to keep making you feel good. So take what you need, hm. I don't hear you-"

"Oh my god," Miyeon moans. And she means it - feels herself dripping all over you. "I need it. I need it, I-"

"Come on, darling," Sana chuckles, soft and low in her ear.

"N-need," Miyeon chokes.

And what kind of idiot wouldn't take their palm off her breast, or undig their fingers from the round of her ass for even a second. It's having her in the palm of your hand. With one foot dangling against your thigh and the other tangled up above you, the stretch in Miyeon's body is entirely for the convenience of letting you fuck her to pieces.

"There it is," Sana is murmuring into your mouth again, and that’s a reward of its own, her wet, full kiss at the junction between Miyeon’s neck and shoulder as her thumb digs deeper into the curve of the girl’s thigh. You listen to Miyeon moan your own name, uttered like it was written by god and meant to form on her lips as it tumbles down through the ragged mess of pants and gasps.

“Fuck, baby-” You press harder. “Your pussy feels incredible- how you suck me right up like you're the good girl you love to pretend you are- like a perfect toy," you breathe, "-all nice and hot. Licking, swallowing around my cock, getting dicked out for my enjoyment-"

"Yeah, yes," she pants out, the total capitulation. "It feels so fucking good."

You feel the mindless, blissful roll. A rhythm in the give of her thighs as you slide home again and again. There's a clink from the bracelets on her wrists; her hair falling into her eyes; there's the sheer ecstasy written all over her pretty face when Sana reaches one hand to start drawing slow circles on her clit. 

"You're just fucking me so god-damn-good." She’s breathless; you’re taking everything from her. The poise, the finesse, the dignity.

"Of course we are," Sana supplies, and it's fitting. You're both holding her up. You'll be the ones tearing her down.

Miyeon's arms tighten around the back of your head, arching, squeezing, and there's that feeling that always accompanies Miyeon: like she's completely melting you to her core and turning your brains into fucking mush. Everything from her tight little pussy to her breathtakingly pretty eyes to the way her spine flexes to meet the pitch of her voice - it's fucking ridiculous, that she's even real in the first place - let alone that your cock is buried so deep in her cunt you think you can hear her sob. Or that all five-foot-two of her is making these tiny desperate noises as you use the width of her hips to bounce her harder onto your cock. 

Sana's long fingers slip and press - they're not touching anything except the swell of her pussy, just this ghostly brush of a light, almost chaste graze. It's enough: a touch like that, and fuck, another-

Miyeon cries out.

“I'm going to cum-"

"Say it again," Sana's whispering, "tell us what you need," and in a sort of coup-de-grace-style-of-climax, she bites at the skin over the top of Miyeon's jaw and slips a fingertip right onto her aching clit. Presses down. "You're such a fucking slut, Miyeon, such a gorgeous cocksleeve-"

"I-"

She's actually whimpering, the poor thing. Eyes squeezed shut, toes clenching; everything is trembling, tense with release. You’re fucking her into a puddle of a person, and she’s holding her lip between her teeth like it might do a goddamn thing. It makes sense; the tightness, and wet and heat is what she knows.

"Go on," Sana answers her, and it's like her words slice the voice in Miyeon’s throat to shreds, "cum all over his cock. So. Fucking. Good, baby," a hard push through every syllable as her teeth snag into the shell of her ear. She rides the boundary of degradation and downright debasement because she knows that’s how Miyeon will absolutely cum for her. For you, for both of you. "Do what you're fucking made for, and just take it, pretty, lovely, you can’t live a second without having his fat cock and my fingers in you, can you? You look like a filthy little angel like this, I swear."

You’re both on the same page, telling her over and over - shh, shh, you take that cock so well, feel that cock fuck you apart, baby, and all you have to do is cum - only, you’re paying homage to the title: you call her princess. Sana takes the opposite approach. Tells her, "you want everyone to know, don't you, what a goddamn fucking slut you are. You filthy, dirty little thing-"

It works. They both work, and so does everything else.

Your blood has gone totally hot. Like molten lava. Boiling over and about to spill.

The last thing Miyeon says: "Oh god - I'll be good, I'll do anything, I'll be your slut - Sana - anything-"

And it's one of the best lines to ever leave her mouth.

"-for this beautiful cock and these fucking perfect fingers, shit - fuck! Right there, right there, right-fucking-there-"

You fuck deeper, harder. The orgasm ripping through her muscles lets you leave marks and bruises you’ll be coming back to all weekend. Miyeon's face falls against the crook of your neck, mouth pressed there - you can feel every gasping inhale, the open-mouthed warmth of her body. It's you that whispers a shudder, half-voweled - "Miyeon," and she’s already there, so ready - it's kind of crazy how everything about this girl works so intricately and precise, like her very design was to take you to the hilt and melt all over your cock, because Miyeon's response comes as a mind-blanking:

"You can," a muffled whine in her throat. "Do it. Cum inside me. I want to-"

Sana’s eyes flare like she can feel that cable snapping, too. How your mind is all white noise. The torque of blood rushing through your head. You're thrusting deep into her well-fucked cunt with all the strength you can muster, your hips stuttering in the follow-through. When you catch the smile in her lips - the curl in her lips like she knows you’re about to spill everything, like the perfect siren’s call- you hear Sana over her shoulder: "fuck her. Use her. I think she wants to feel it in her fucking stomach - you know, the whole reason we’re here-"

You cum inside her - there’s no question - filling her tight hole up. Shit. You actually cum all over her too.

In fact, you manage to drag yourself all the way out from Miyeon, the wet quivers and hot aftershocks, all so Sana can get a good visual of how you’re fucking ruining her: the loose rope of white that streaks up her tummy, splaying out beneath her breasts. The absolute debauchery; it’s even more pornographic when your fist pumps another splatter of cum right onto the swollen lips of her pussy. Miyeon moaning on impact.

Sana supplies her own soft gasp, scraping the air past her teeth, tension hanging in the silence - and then you bury the rest of your load back inside her cunt.

And here's a feeling that's going to stick with you for a while. Beyond the fireworks in your pulse - the shake-ripple that leaves you with nothing, no muscles, no brain matter - you slide your cock through her cunt again, and again - just to feel how your cum pushes back out. And she's watching, she’s letting you watch: how messy she's become. Her tits. Her sweat-dewed thighs. How every second seems to bring its own unique ache. 

Really, you’re left only with a near mental blank. “God, Miyeon-”

You have just the barest capacity to consider the way Miyeon's trembling frame clings hard - pulling her ass cheeks down flush against your hips - your thick cock completely seated, stuffing her fucking cunt as she goes weak and submissive. You hold her there, suspended as your orgasm softens inside her and Sana hums along your lips, the soft coos spilling into Miyeon's ear: "what a messy, nasty girl. Princess needs to be full and leaking everywhere, doesn't she. How many creampies do you think you're going to ask for?” Sana laughs. “How many will ever be enough? I hope he gave you something worth begging for."

It's not really surprising how a feeling can hook its teeth into you when you're cumming like that. Subjugating the deepest reach of her sopping cunt to fulfill your own filthy fantasy. 

And look: Miyeon is soaked - soaked and wrecked and pliant. You kiss her and kiss her, and Sana kisses you, kisses her too, all of it muddled up - and your mouths are a mess. Your hands go into her hair, onto her ass; there's cum down her thighs and all over the floor. The smell of you three: her slicked arousal and your sweat and Sana's expensive perfume. 

Here, come come - Sana is a flurry of activity; she's helping Miyeon out of her second heel after you'd fucked the first one off her foot without bothering to get the strap unhooked. There's her careful proclamation of, "thank god the walls aren't paper," as you practically carry Miyeon to the edge of the sofa, this dreamy vision of messy hair and a royally-befit-blush. In the whole world, not once has Miyeon looked like anything less than nobility.

And now's no different, really.

You sink down onto the plush, tufted fabric - a chair whose shape might confuse you if Sana hadn’t told you earlier it was explicitly built for fucking, or whatever it is you're doing. She's smiling at you, settling her face right onto your shoulder and peering up.

"Sana," she says wistfully, but looks right at you. "My legs are still a noodly-mess. Could you turn on the jets in the tub?"

"And leave the two of you unsupervised?" She jokes. "Never."

Miyeon sticks out her lip. Pouts, almost: "it'd just be a second."

"She's only asking for a minute," you add in.

Sana rolls her eyes. "And since you've suddenly turned into two hopeless idiots, it can't be trusted. If I'm drawing a bath," a flick of the gaze, "the least you can do is join me. A chance to recover if nothing else."

Miyeon, being Miyeon, has already dropped her face down to your lap, curling up with your cock at her lips. When she gets her first, tantalizing, almost chaste little swipe at the tip, she smiles all impressed with herself. With those big brown eyes, her fingertips skating delicately along your stomach, and her dark lashes beating slow - all of Miyeon, right now, is on purpose, calculated. Precise. 

Her voice is even worse: "she wants her own go first, don't you think?"

Sana watches where your fingers thread into the ends of Miyeon's silky hair, just the gentlest twist and tug. How you have her mouth ready and open, waiting; how Miyeon glances over for approval.

"Well," Sana turns a cheek, "he's already so worked up." Her dark eyes look towards you - a mock frown. "I don't know if we can convince him otherwise."

Miyeon's throat clicks - she's not choking yet, but left to her own devices, she will be. Her expression melts into an almost-gasp as your cock fills the empty space in her mouth. There's that plush little gag as she opens, lips wet. You rock your hips, and then you get to watch her nose kiss the trail leading up the smooth plane of your belly.

"I could go for a soak," you admit, with Miyeon drooling on your cock.

Because Sana's doing that thing where she turns around, has the smug look over her shoulder. Makes a slow, teasing movement that leads your eyes from her pretty face all the way down the cut of her back, until finally she's pushing the soft waves of her hair into one hand so that her ass is perfectly presented-

And jesus, sure: the sloping hips, the inviting lines - the sharp points and soft edges, where she is and isn't; her cupped fingers come up to her own chest, just to show off the heft of her tits, hanging heavy. Everything is sensually posed. You're only a little bit mesmerized. Her figure has always had the cut of a pinup model. Curves like a siren. Her waist to hip ratio is - oh-fucking-kay, maybe you could do it right now - bend her in half - get her fucking sobbing until you kiss her quiet and cum so deep in her cunt it's all she can think about for days-

You realize then you're pulling too hard on Miyeon’s hair.

Not meaning to, or maybe too eager.

Hey, you have a pretty girl sucking life back into your cock and one more giving you bedroom eyes from across the room all ready to sit on it; you never said you weren't trying your best.

"Careful, honey. I'm getting impatient." Sana's hand traces the wallpaper trim in the hall, a sweeping path; a vague reminder as she disappears down and around the corner. You hear the squeak of the faucet and then the sound of her light footsteps. And then it's just an echoey and unapologetic, "one day I might not let you have all the fun," followed by, "my goodness-"

Sana, appraising her reflection in all likelihood. All bright smiles

You turn back to find a second set of eyes staring back, full of hunger, as a wet, messy heat wraps around the base of your shaft and follows to the top with the flutter of her tongue - and then all the way to the back of that tempting throat. Miyeon's moving at the tempo you'd put her at. You appreciate that. But you lift her jaw and hold the side of her face so she's looking straight at you - and as soon as you pop yourself out from between her lips, you say, "you'll let me taste Sana, too, won't you, baby?"

(Miyeon's never been good at saying no - to anything. That doesn't change here in the slightest.)

The way you laugh is easy and sweet. You kiss the space over her temple. "We've always been in this together, Miyeon," a soft tease. "Go ask her nicely, and I bet she lets you clean me up," before adding, "maybe, after you lick all the cum out of my girlfriend's tight ass."

And Miyeon simply grins. The promise of that sloppy fucking mess. She's ruined herself time and time again over far less.

"Oh," she says, "you know how good I look with cum dripping down my chin.”

It's kind of impressive how shameless she can be. So fucking blase - what are friends for, anyway.

“Shall we?"

You scoop Miyeon right up into your arms and, upon standing, swing her little body around in front of you. And she knows that's the sort of thing she shouldn't enjoy: being manhandled, told what to do, having someone lift the choice off her shoulders like that - but that doesn't stop her from tangling herself up around your neck and tilting her hips back into you in that playful-fake, overly innocent-cute mien - where she says in this tiny whisper, "are we, you think?"

Your mouth lands on her ear, nips the softness there, "behave yourself, sweetheart."

And then a low, breathless laugh escapes her: "when's the last time that was even an option."

-

(For the record, the answer is never, and you're probably actually so fucked - it's kind of hilarious to look back at it, and think, because how could any two people who have spent as many weeks (months) as you, putting all the right pieces into the right places, get all the stars align at once? The idea that the three of you are hooking up and nobody's getting hurt, murdered or hung out to dry is statistically improbable; and the likelihood that anyone in this presidential suite will survive the weekend without breaking at least four limbs in various places is rapidly dropping with each passing hour. You've been taking the old adage and clutching it against your chest - 

It can't be a sin, if it makes you happy.)

-

Past the door, the first thing you notice is that Sana's hair is all pinned up. Always pretty like that.

However it doesn't change the picture a whole lot. A few inches more bare skin isn't exactly a big difference when there's the whole, naked, porcelain expanse that spans the soft length of her shoulders, along her hips and waist, and runs to her feet. It's still kind of incredible. The hourglass shaped silhouette. All the natural curves finding relief in the right places. Model-esque, that sort of thing. And, yes: her tits, the absolute heaven-sent frame of her ass and those amazing legs.

It goes without saying.

She's there with her back arched, an arm perched on the granite of the counter. So relaxed. An elegance only afforded to the very lucky or the very rich. She lets her head fall back, the fine curve of her chin canting above a neck that you would've been biting kisses into just moments ago if she hadn't put herself in full profile to take your breath away.

"Show off," Miyeon mumbles, and then whispers to you, "sorry. My body can't do that, like-" she indicates - with a weird wobbly hand gesture, about the height of Sana's pelvis. "Whatever that is."

Sana tilts her head forward and meets the glance you give her reflection.

"Hmm," is her eloquent contribution to the airy room, woven into the pitter-patter of bathwater, lapping at the surface. "Now why am I left to wonder why there's no one making good on my requests, huh."

You cross the space; get close. And Miyeon stays curled up against you, doesn't let you slip away as you walk over, doesn't let go. She kisses the front of your shoulder, hums softly.

"My bad," You say. It's very believable. You sound a bit winded; kind of a wreck, but your sincerity shines through in that sort of 'I'll fuck it better' kind of way.

"Excuses, excuses." A dismissive shrug. "The water's perfect. But if you insist," and the sultry drop of Sana's eyelashes is deliberate, an invitation. Her breath is caught as your mouth finds the space between her neck and shoulder blade - the place where she's gone all pink, "I'd hardly pass up the chance for you both to eat my pussy first."

And look: it's not a lie, per se, but the natural instinct for Miyeon-logic is just to provide the justification, "the faster we get you a cumming, squirming, desperate mess-" her hand slips to cup the junction of her jaw and the crook of her throat. "-the sooner it'll be 'til he fucks me senseless again."

"We have a long way to go to get even, sweetie," argues Sana. "Last time, you were both pretty self-absorbed."

"We'd never ignore you on purpose," you whisper into the crook of her neck, and Sana turns to let you follow that deep, velvety mouth as the kiss flows across her lips. "You're absolutely necessary."

"Only by accident, then. That's a little bit worse," snarks Sana. The reprimand dies down into something soft as Miyeon lets her tongue trail flat over a nipple. She shudders.

"If I keep going, maybe you can forgive us?" You watch her eyelids flutter open, a haze of ecstasy passing behind her eyes. You keep an arm at her hip, wrap around and press flat until her whole flat tummy is pinned against your cock.

"Mmm," Sana hums. It's that sultry note she likes to let trail from the very end of her throat. "Ask me again after you get me off. But slowly: I want to savor every detail."

Miyeon traces kisses across Sana's rib until your girlfriend presses two wet fingers to her mouth. Easy.

"Then you should probably do something about her," you say, and - as if in agreement - Sana twists her hand into the cascades of her Miyeon's hair. You lean into her shoulder. She sighs; exhales, deeply, while her back is shimmying further backwards into the countertop.

"And you should help her make it up to me," Sana chimes, her voice clear and melodic, every inflection playing right at home in her vocal cords. "Two mouths are better than one, and I have so many other places you should be kissing."

Sana has a verifiable gravitas, for one, and when she's not hiding in plain sight behind the bubbly-bright act she likes to put on, it's nearly impossible not to fall in line behind her. This isn't to say you couldn't win her over either; it's a pretty small crowd here. But you choose one direction and watch her skin pink up and turn to red; you grab a wrist and it goes cold and white. Every last part of her is so damn expressive. The point is that she doesn't need you to make a fool out of yourself to know you're into her - or vice versa.

(Or. You're such a goddamn sucker, as Miyeon likes to remind you with a scoff, a little eye-roll, and then her hands on your belt. At least, before everything else: the knowing smirk, the dangerous suggestion).

You let your fingers find the backs of Sana's thighs as she spreads her knees apart, and there, you're reminded of the one thing. That of all the ways these two girls are identical, you've never found a comparison that really works. Not by any useful measure.

Miyeon has all the softer features: a bit dainty, the doe eyes and the lone dimple, like a doll with an aw-so-cute factor, whereas Sana is all sharp, clean angles; the sculpted muscle in her calves and thighs, the firmness and muscle underneath - which, yeah, definitely not the worst trade off. Don't get it confused, both girls crave your approval; both prefer when things get rough and sloppy. Describing either as anything but the most submissive holy-shit-take-me-now-I-need-you type, when put under the slightest pressure is laughable.

Not when Miyeon lets you use her like a toy. Or when Sana tells you exactly what you need to do to fuck a baby into her (hypothetically speaking; she gets a little silly and dumb around the edges whenever she's about to cum and her brain starts tripping over her tongue). Neither will hesitate when given the option of having your hand on the side of their throat, pinning their wrists to the headboard or the shower wall, fucking them until they go liquid and collapse in your arms, shivering, whimpering and begging, their pussies pulsing around your cock. In fact, there's really no hard or fast rule at all. But here, you recognize, is a great point of difference -

"Baby," you murmur into the inside of Sana's thigh. You leave a mark with your lips that you’ll come back to. "So. Fucking. Gorgeous-" right as Miyeon starts pressing her mouth against her cunt. "Aren't you, baby? The most beautiful girl. And all of this is just mine?"

Listen - the praise kink your girl has is actually pretty textbook: Sana wants to be called sweet, she wants to be complimented, rewarded, and all that good stuff; she wants you to talk to her the way everyone who sees a flash of her skin or a sway of her hips wants to - the best parts of adulation, arousal, love, without any of the side-eye of it being totally obscured in a crowded venue.

Direct.

To the point. 

She wants to hear each and every you're sexy, you look hot, your ass drives me crazy. She wants it on the gruff in your voice, how it gets a little rough at the edges. Tell me you're mine. You make me so hard. This is just the very essence of who Sana is, and you have learned that you need to give as well as take: feed her a tiny ego boosting here and there, and she will completely throw herself at you in return.

Miyeon watches you run your tongue over her cunt like she’s taking notes, and it’s clear you’re more than prepared to give it all up to her. There's always been this veneration, this reverence for every inch of her, a pull towards her - her eyes, her mouth, her wrists, her long beautiful legs, the place where the skin of her thighs meets - you've always had this insane fascination with Sana, this need to know what she'd taste like or sound like. At any given moment.

"Oh," Sana pushes Miyeon closer, moaning. "Yours. So yours, baby."

The moment you both have your tongues working at her - tasting, the sweetness of her dripping down onto both of your faces, making you lick your lips and kiss each other so Sana gets to watch - Miyeon hums approvingly. Lets out this very performative, "isn't she just the best?"

And it isn’t that you can't find the right word - divine, wonderful, heaven, incredible, without any flaw - there just isn't much room to read into the fact that you and Miyeon are both sunk to your knees on the bathmat, kneeling in worship, in adoration - sucking on Sana's clit. The imagery sells itself.

"We'd never forget the important things," Miyeon continues, dreamily.

She's trading with you the folds of Sana's dripping pussy and the outline of her lips for her thigh. You pick up where she leaves off, and that earns you Sana's hand raking through the back of your hair, pressing you so close you can hear her heartbeat in her pulse; her blood burning through the very spot.

“That's how you make me feel, baby: so fucking good. Amazing." You taste it. You chase it. There is nothing like her cum filling your mouth. "Pretty. Mine. All mine."

“Yeah, okay - sure - that feels really fucking good.” 

Sana's orgasms always start slow; a slight adjustment of her hips, the rub of one calf against the other, she's never been the quiet type but there's not quite the screaming or yelling just yet. Her jaw is set.

"You're, uh-," she adds, failing at anything else.

Miyeon tries for it. That edge of danger; not in pain or frustration, but, "there you go, sweetie: you sound so fucking pretty when you're worked up. Just tell us - the words, we need the words to make it good, baby."

"Fine," says Sana, tilting her head down, breathing deeply, and she makes a sound that's neither a whimper nor a laugh, but a crossroads of both. "Right there, oh my god, you are so fucking dangerous, holy shit. Oh, please. Please. You two- just, please, don't you dare- just a little bit - mmm. Why do you have to be so good at that?"

"Right?" Miyeon laughs out loud - like you're the one missing a vital point, like it's your fault your face is buried in her folds. “I used to think guys just didn’t like doing it. And then, well-"

And you drag your tongue flat and up over her pussy, right through that whole slicked up slit, your fingers still pumping in and out, and then you flick it just hard enough to-

"-yeah," she huffs, panting.

Miyeon presses her thumb into the mess of Sana's cunt, and it causes Sana's whole body to shudder apart - you lift your face to breathe, or to promise, "we can go for hours if you want, taking turns making you cum," before pressing into her again, and Sana's only got so much patience and stamina when you're two steps ahead of the curve, because her legs are practically going to wobble off her body.

"Poor, pretty baby," Miyeon murmurs against her, and she's talking like she’s taken all the control now. Operating in that cycle of push and pull.

And to her point: Sana is whining, gasping - every bit as hot and bothered and needy. She's whispering please and not giving up her requests.

"Fuck. Okay, sorry-” she apologizes. For some reason.

Your nose keeps getting bumped, her cunt is grinding down into your chin. That is fine. If it keeps on like this, your whole face will be soaking wet.

"I'm going to just- going to go ahead and cum, I think- so fucking. Yeah, keep on going just like, shit, please: my pussy is fucking throbbing."

This is the easy part, if you've read the rest right. If the hours and the minutes, and all the passing days: you know which direction the pieces are about to fall.

Sana arches her spine, rolls her hips into your face, and when you swirl your tongue all over the wet heat at her core, the sound she makes is music: low, throaty and delicate. Your mouth is attached to her clit still when you look up over the hand you have steadying each tremble in her diaphragm. And possibly as a sort of vengeful maneuver, Miyeon is shoving two fingers under your jaw and far enough into Sana's pussy that each curl of a knuckle is all that’s left to find Sana cumming right onto your mouth, your chin. 

She wants to scream, to cry out, but her mouth joins her face, in that frozen expression of anguish, of an absolute that perfect pleasure.

"Shh, shh, it's okay," Miyeon consoles, standing up, leaning in - close, really, impossibly close; she presses their foreheads together, murmuring against Sana's ear, whispering what-do-you-need, there you go. Baby, that was perfect. They each know the song and dance. They can shamelessly recite each other's lines. Miyeon slides an arm to the small of Sana's back, one across her shoulders, and Sana leans against her with this gorgeous look of a perfect, mind-numbing orgasm on her face, her eyes bright, her lashes fluttering - a sheen of sweat across her forehead; your stomach falls and bottoms out; you can't not be fucking attracted to these two. Miyeon smooths down her hair, reassuring her. Her hand reaches lower, wraps around her, pulls.

The bath is well filled at this point, water near overflowing, and Sana is equally fucking soaked. This storm of wet and hot beneath your lips. You clean her off with the broad stroke of your tongue and don't spill a drop, because the noise she's making - it sounds like rapture, ecstasy. She's half-delirious, panting, with her hands gripping the sides of your head.

"Where," she gasps, trying her damnedest. You have the best girls in the world, you really fucking do. Miyeon rubs the heel of her palm against the soaked, red hood of her cunt. Sana lets out a sound halfway between a gasp and a groan; the arch of her hips chasing Miyeon's touch; "you, are you two - god damn, if I hadn't already-"

"Shhh. My poor girl. You're not thinking about his cock just yet," and those are Miyeon's slender fingers coaxing your jaw free from Sana's cunt, prying her free from you so she can sit alone at her throne. "They always keep lube in these kind of places," Miyeon reaches into a drawer, fumbling about. It takes a moment for it to register that she's actually talking to you. "It usually looks like some body oil, you know the nice massage kind, in these tiny bottles. Help me look, will you?"

It does not take long - hotel management understands what these rooms are for. The scandal and the romance and everything in between. Because Miyeon finds what she’s looking for in the next drawer down: a sample-sized container of massage oil, something slippery and organic. It smells vaguely of lavender.

"Look at me," Miyeon tells you, and Sana is absolutely listening along too. It's all very seamless: Sana and then Miyeon. All the synchronized parts. Their signals have some sort of feedback even if you're not always actively aware of the things they pass back and forth.

Miyeon guides Sana onto her shaky legs, turns her toward you - So you swallow, hard, and run your thumbs into the crease of her ass - you're kneeling, still, still totally naked and wet all around the jaw. "Eat her ass, and I'll keep her cumming until she can't feel anything else."

You shift your weight and run a kiss along the tender skin at the back of Sana’s thigh. The contact has her bracing a hand on the counter for support.

“And then-” Miyeon says, with a gleam in her eyes like she knows what the fuck she wants. She slides back down to the floor until Sana is pinned between a rock and a hard place. Her two favorite people in the world: namely, your hands gripping Sana's hips, and Miyeon's tongue all over the aching little clit you'd just had your mouth wrapped around moments ago.

"And then?" you provide, hovering a kiss onto the beautiful round of Sana's ass. Her fucking cheek. You have to slap it. Just a little. And when you watch it ripple back and forth with your handprint there, a spot of pink already blooming, well, she has to be giving you a sultry look that demands to know when it is exactly that you are going to stick your cock inside of her, and it is absolutely just impossible to look anywhere else.

"And then," Miyeon supplies, "we're going get that beautiful cock in her ass so you can fuck her brains to mush."

"Thanks I guess, for the explicit permission," you scoff, and here you drop your lips, trail them into the crack of Sana's ass, up and down, teasing the taut stretch of her hole with the tip of your tongue.

"Someone has to take responsibility for-," she pulls on Sana's leg and stretches it forward, repositions her ever so slightly. She sucks Sana's clit into her mouth with an exaggerated sort of satisfaction.

You wait for Miyeon to continue, and then realize with the unshakeable notion: she isn't going to, because it's too damn much trouble. There is no reason to pull apart the premise and not the girl straddled between your faces. The only option is to follow her lead, and to worship Sana. To trace every crevice of her, lick between her ass and the sensitive, clenching heat of her pussy.

"Can we, like, take a timeout-" Sana's mouth is slurring into the skin of her forearm. Her upper thighs are quaking, quivering as you sink your teeth in. Her head's gone all heavy as a slutty little moan rings out and straight down her lungs.

And maybe the realization is setting in. You and Miyeon are going to fuck her until you all can't think - until you're nothing but primal urges, nothing but bodies with beating, pounding hearts; and every thought in Sana's head will be to the two of you; to Miyeon, whose hand finds the front of Sana's stomach and guides her pelvis into rolling forward and grinding into her mouth, to you, with your tongue lathering and lapping at her asshole, and running your hands around her hips until her whole body's shaking, "oh fuck, my god-" 

(The writing is on the wall. You and Miyeon are going to fuck her until none of you know where you end, where the other begins.)

Sana tries again, and the question ends in a deep, rumbling, "don't you want, Miyeon, wouldn't you rather just really, fucking love, having his thick cock stretch you apart," - she swallows - and when she glances behind her back and finds you watching her, there is just pure, unadulterated arousal burning through her eyelashes, over the flare of her ass.

You catch the fucking bow of her lower lip wobbling as she adds, a little more pointed and a lot more determined, "when you're, fuck, begging and screaming for his load? To be his cumdump, his little bitch," it's like she's got her heart set, and her mouth can't stop moving fast enough, and "to do whatever he wants just because it makes you look and feel so damn hot?"

You can hear Miyeon's mouth smacking with the way it works, the way she is swallowing, gasping. You can hear the sound she makes when her mouth goes loose, and says, agreeing, "you're going to love it Sana, every god-damn-inch, you always do" and Sana is falling apart again into your grip, moaning, and then "it's so much better. All the stretch, that tightness. But she needs your fingers first.

You can hear Sana gasping too, dripping a mess into the place where her pussy and ass meet. Miyeon licks a wide strip from her core all the way up and kisses it. Lick. Kiss, lick - her hands pulling Sana closer by the hip - kiss, kiss, lick - pulling her mouth around your girl's clit. So close to the place in Sana's bubbly cheeks, where your mouth supplies long sucks and soft kisses - so close you can practically taste the scented flavor in Miyeon's lip gloss.

"I can't- shit. Hold on, guys," Sana whispers. It's her nails scraping against the granite. "You need to-" and then the loud, dull thwap of her knee knocking into the cabinet. 

She's cumming again - this time, loud and guttural, but another really beautiful sound - her cunt pulsing hard into nothing while the air hangs in limbo, Miyeon's tongue circling her clit, your palms around Sana's beautiful, round ass. You're half convinced they'd be fine with being locked away in some tower. Forget the world and its obligations. Or, rather: let the world stop spinning; leave only this.

There is not much talking from then on. 

Mostly whining, whimpers and pleas to: not stop, yes, there, yes, please, fuck, and Miyeon wraps her fingers around you - almost the same thing she did when you were pumping your cum into her quivering cunt earlier, asking, please, may I-?

Sana bends herself over the counter, like something instinctual. The perfect bend and arch in her spine, the bow of her knees and the press of her thighs. Inviting, pleading. You can feel the tingle, the stiff tension in the muscles, when you reach out and lift her ass; it gives so easily to your touch. Your palm, her cheeks. There's a beautiful flush as the pink starts to run, fade, and reappear along her back, and - fuck, okay, seriously-

Miyeon's there, kneeling next to you: stroking her fingers up your length. She’s kissing you too. It’s hard to think.

But the sound of the cap coming off the bottle comes like an alarm clock, pulling you out of a dream.

Miyeon sits on her heels, smiling into the press of your lips as the bottle she procured tips out. Clear, viscous and smooth into her palm. When it becomes a lot of dripping; she swirls it against your cock - her knuckles wrapped around you, running and twisting into every curve, sliding her whole grip with long, calculated strokes.

"I don't think she's in any condition to keep a tally," Miyeon announces, "so, why don't you decide?"

"Meaning?" you're panting; your brain keeps working to formulate complete thoughts.

"Meaning," she slips her tongue against yours, slides her teeth and draws into your lower lip, "you should totally pound her gorgeously tight little ass" - another kiss, mostly on your lower lip; almost a bite - "and then you should dump that massive load of yours" - a shudder rolls through her shoulder and leaves a whisper in her wake - "right inside mine."

There are about eight thousand words in the English language but what you say is, "fuck."

Because she's right: Sana is blathering the moment you stand up and let your hands reach around, grab hold of her full, rounded hips. She’s not in any state to protest or complain about matters of equality or correspondence. Her lips and tongue are barely even fit to say anything but yes-yes-please-anything, oh god.

Which, okay, whatever: of course, whatever the fuck she needs - whatever they need - you pull at her hips until it's there, your cock sandwiched between those full, warm ass-cheeks, the perfect amount of pressure to get you so fucking hot, and Sana's not shy about rolling her hips to keep you pressed to the surface, rocking into your balls until her cunt's making slick, wet, hungry noises and she's just one endless, groaning moan.

"Love feeling your cock," Sana mutters; and there is a, "please, fuck me, baby- please?" thrown in for good measure.

"Please do, you're like - you're like ridiculously gifted," Miyeon adds, always the right touch of caustic.

"-please."

Sana's eloquence is short lived, because the second you give her ass a squeeze and Miyeon presses her thumb against Sana's cunt, her voice catches on her throat.

She sounds perfectly winded, completely out of breath, a tiny, sexed-up growl running through the notes as she speaks to her reflection in the mirror. Miyeon laughs. She can hardly get her own shit together when you lean up and grab a breast in hand, or start leaving slow-but-steady bite marks along the back of her shoulder blades; like it's all-too funny when you pin Sana to the counter until she starts to beg in that please, please, please tone: when every syllable and gasp is hitched and short.

"She doesn't want gentle," Miyeon tuts, finding her place next to Sana, holding her chin in her hands and catching the expression on her face. She presses a thumb into Sana's mouth for no reason other than: they're so soft. Wet. Pink and full, parted around her fingertip. "Isn't that right, baby?"

Your gaze follows their hips, swaying. And from this angle: identical. The hair, the jawline, the arch of the throat and shoulders, the elegant twist and fold of their limbs, the eyes, the blush, the smile, and the legs. They don't have to look exactly the same: their presence is near identical - Miyeon's the cuter one, sure. It's been established, but fuck, the look on Sana's face as you spread her asshole with just a finger is fucking dangerous. You're going to lose your mind. Both the flat tummies and the beautiful breasts and their matching hard nipples - and the fucking two best asses the world has ever seen. A line up over the counter: Miyeon and Sana, side by side; their reflections looking at you in tandem, wearing these same expressions. The eyes begging, asking and insisting, the pouting lower-lip and the glassy sheen of their eyelashes.

You tell them: "how am I supposed to" - you run the thick-glistening head of your cock along the pucker of Sana’s tight ass, grind your hips into the friction - "focus when you two look at me like that?”

"Um, just give up," says Miyeon, grinning; and then, when your jaw snaps closed and there's the obvious shift of your hips as your length strains through your body's need and pulls you closer to that incredible, tight, dark hole: "god, there you go. That is so fucking hot."

So, it's just like this:

They watch each other. The mirror is right there; every want, every motion. 

And then, yeah, a low and throaty, "is that it?" - Sana nods into Miyeon's hand and smiles, with just the slightest hint of something that could resemble a blush - "why we always come back to him? Because, really-"

"Mmm." Sana hums agreement, dazed and drunk in her words, the slow breath of air you push out of her chest as your cock starts to sink in; the deeper the intrusion, the lower your names become - just murmurs and sighs and sounds: "god, yes, god-"

Her pussy starts to drip onto the tiles, her slick collecting at Miyeon's knees as Sana takes you all the way: and you hold, once you're all the way in; once that gorgeous little puckered rim has stretched around your entire width; there's just the smell of the room; lavender and rose and citrus - Sana's endless arousal - and you hold, and hold on tight - and your muscles shiver as Sana draws the first rocking motion of her hips.

The smallest, lightest grind.

"Jesus fucking christ," you curse, because the heat around your cock is excruciatingly tight. A slow-burning, tingling-aching pleasure as the flesh inside Sana's ass moves up and down the length, drawing out inch by inch of skin - until your entire cock is nearly pulled out.

You're the one that drives all the way back in.

Sana gasps. She runs her hand through her hair. She tries her damndest to remember what words are, clearly coming up empty.

"Baby." Miyeon is kissing her forehead, her nose, her lips, and coos praises in her ear. She sinks her fingers into the curve of Sana's immaculate ass, pulling on the soft cheek, showing-

You are speechless. It's just: that next stroke. And another. Your cock slipping in and out with each pass, so easy once Sana sighs, licks her lips and leans into your rhythm, there, all at once and then faster. And she looks in the mirror, because of course; of course she watches Miyeon run her hand all over her front, the perfect tits and a pretty stomach - your thrusting keeps up until every thrust has her hips rolling forward and snapping back, chasing her own momentum; chasing that thick, hard, stretch of cock and that beautiful pleasure-pain as the force and pace rocks her, pounds her so her entire body has to curl against Miyeon's chest for support, so that she's going a little weak in the knees.

"How is he?" Miyeon's tone gets wicked in these situations, a lot less innocent. She gets excited, giddy. "Pretty, handsome, stupidly attractive," her voice picks up a playful lilt, and she gets you grinning - it's only the start. "And he's all yours. But how's the cock, huh? He's gaping your ass so pretty. Your hole is so fucking open around him. It looks incredible, doesn't it?"

Sana reaches for the side of her ass, presses her fingertips to her skin: pulls and splits a fingernail into the tender flesh where her ass and thigh meet - right above her cunt. You snap your hips into hers and watch your cock disappear. Every motion gives, slurps and sucks until you're hilted inside her.

"Feels, mmmm - fuck." Her chest is fluttering, every part of her so fucking flushed, her blood running beneath the surface so every single inch of her skin is saturated with her own need, her want.

"Feels so good," you growl, your vision gone dark around the edges. Miyeon's there, vaguely, smirking into Sana's jaw, licking at the sweat, scraping her teeth along the skin to bite down, pull- "she's so fucking tight. Gripping the hell out of my cock. Like, it feels unbelievable, you know."

"Babe," she cries, though you give her no respite - you use that little sliver of slack and pull out far enough that she'll know it when your cock is hammering into her ass, a little more aggressive, and you start with quick, hard pumps that echo throughout the room - not for your pleasure or hers: just to hear it, listen, you're driving up so far into that perfect, gorgeous ass that it sends her tits rocking and rolling with every bounce of her chest; her moans, her babbling incoherence, are, again - it's like a drug - and Miyeon's smiling. And also, getting herself off.

"So pretty," Miyeon says into her temple, "with his cock fucking open your ass." And she has her fingers swirling, swirling, in little patterns around her cunt, grazing over a wet clit, like the way you're pounding Sana's ass and dismantling her whole consciousness is absolutely the most arousing thing ever, like Miyeon could stay and watch forever, like Sana's the most beautiful person in the world, and Miyeon would be right here with her every second - whispering praise in her ears - "god, babe, if I could, I would never pull his cock out. You take him so well, don't you? You're just made for it. He could stretch you out over and over and we could, you know - be fucked silly - no thinking - for, like, forever. All day long."

Sana's fingers claw, gripping at the bowl of the sink, while Miyeon has her hand glued to her clit, playing herself.

Miyeon doesn't wait - but she asks anyway - and of course: she's leaning up, in, nuzzling Sana and saying: "yes?"

"So," is all Sana gets out before gasping, because the sight, it's too much to not let yourself feel a little power drunk, and there is a sudden thrust that practically turns the poor girl's voice into a croak. "Yes. Fuck - fuck-"

You don't really have any clue where this is coming from but: "Miyeon, here, take this cock. Come get what's yours you fucking cocktease," and, whatever - who needs thoughts? Your girlfriend's already bent over the bathroom counter, your fingers holding the smooth curves of her ass apart, her beautiful body opened all up and pink.

Miyeon ruffles her hair as she finds the perfect angle, knees knocked up against the drawers, and she's got more oil spread onto her own puckered rim.

You know your girls: Sana is desperate for your cock, Miyeon lives to be used.

"I love how fucking cock-drunk she gets," Miyeon laughs, and then - the moment you've shifted from one gorgeous hole to the other - her mouth slackens, her eyelashes flutter: "shit. Holy - didn't really realize- oh wow."

"Kinda distracting?" you tease, knowing full well you're just going to lose your own words; watching a gorgeous ass swallow your cock; being told to keep giving and take, just as much: the warmth in your own core, your cunt, clenching hard - an aching pulse - the excitement coursing through your veins and this, this whole sensation of being connected: your bodies, all-encompassing and present, three whole units, joining at the hips, being forced back together-

"-you feel fucking, so tight. That's how the fucking joke goes, right?" Miyeon manages: to talk, still, even with a cock in her ass and your teeth and tongue painting pretty marks up the ridges of her spine.

Sana is catching her breath, brushing her fingers through her hair staring wistfully.

"Gives you two so much to talk about."

"Now don't even start- I really like it, alright."

Sana gives her ass the worst slap but your balls hit her cunt on the following thrust. Miyeon's so fucking tight you can barely breath. And her laughter tinkers off into a very pretty string of obscene moans from the way your cock spears into her, all at once: the flat, wet, throbbing sounds of a tight ass taking a thick cock without stopping, stretching and sliding with an increasing ease the longer it goes on for, until you're snapping your hips so far forward they're slapping Miyeon's ass and gripping, squeezing the round shape of her waist; until the movements are just you, the heavy weight of your balls against the hot wet skin between her legs.

And god damn it, she's got to start with:

"Forgot how much you stretch me, Jesus - baby, it is a really gorgeous cock you've got," - and that is when it hits, and her hands fist up, trying to grab at something, anything: "oh my god."

"You are such a whore," Sana laughs, but not unkind, because Miyeon can only grin in response, with your cock pounding out into the red-hot, clenched walls of her asshole. And then: a nice, hearty sigh.

You find yourself asking, almost by impulse, "isn't she, uh, tight. God."

And, fuck: you were thinking how insane it is you two ever managed without the third party. How now, not fucking Sana and Miyeon's glorious, matching asses side-by-side would drive you fucking crazy, and maybe that's why it's really the best news. How when your cock slips out of one ass, and slowly nuzzles into the other - how when you all three watch the pretty faces in the mirror twist and turn into a look of such pure fucking bliss - you just sort of-

"Oh."

That's Sana: with Miyeon pressed chest-first over the marble counter, Miyeon's cheek and nose flush against her face, their arms twisted, bodies crossed at the wrist and wrist - their skin shiny-red with exertion. They're the closest possible position: mirror images of the other, and - with the slightest push -

And it's pretty. It's fucking, you know.

"Perfect," you groan. "This is it. Look at you, the both of you - god - it's like. It's not normal to be as beautiful as the two of you are. Right. So, you know-"

"Hey," Sana is a little faster on the uptake when you're fucking Miyeon and her ass within an inch of dying, "your face. You look like you're close, are you close baby?"

The blood's starting to sing in your ears. Miyeon's forehead keeps bouncing into Sana's - their sweat, mixing, her skin peppered and blotchy pink from where she's gotten a little bit lost in her own head, her hips moving of their own accord, her body tensing, relaxing. You can read all of her movements, recognize her signals: the way she moans louder than usual, the way her cunt trembles against you, the way her ass squeezes, holds, lets go-

You pull out. Just to keep yourself from blowing, just to pull on your balls, to look and watch the perfect view. And Sana reaches back - a warm hand wrapped around you.

You feel her palm wrap around your cock, coaxing another serving of oil - like she knows just how rough it's going to be to start again.

"Just," she pants, leaning into Miyeon so you have to rut around to find your way back, "until the end."

There's something so pleasantly mind-numbing about the moment when you ease your cock into the sweet-soft ring of muscles again and she's just stretching and pulsing and grabbing all around you. The way you keep going: she's holding herself, giving her asshole a squeeze, a stretch - her lips kiss a sound onto the side of Miyeon's shoulder and she nods, gasps, breathes out heavy and pained, like the rest: a total fucking rush.

You watch Miyeon lean further, a beautiful shift of balance between the two. Her hands clamp around the sides of Sana's thighs for support, and the longer you pound into her, the deeper your cock sinks, the closer the pressure becomes as their heads turn in, looking to the same place, their foreheads knocking, and-

"Knees," you growl. You're holding your cock in your first - demanding: "Get on your fucking knees."

Sana smiles first. Then Miyeon. And when the lipstick smears against their cheeks, you don't have it in you anymore to think clearly. The line between your imagination and your fantasy is so blurred: you want their mouths moaning into eachother. You want Miyeon to clean the taste from Sana's lips. You want those cunts grinding, their clits making contact, and for one of them - fuck-

So: "I need the both of you."

And it's your name falling off of Sana's tongue when the tops of her shins hit the tile floor - she's kneeling, she's pulling Miyeon by her waist until the three of you have converged into this beautiful, glistening, open-mouthed trio. Sana kisses Miyeon hard while you cum all over the image: the contrast of their soft, wet, hot tongues against one another while your harsh grip pumps along your slick, throbbing length. It feels like a knot unraveling, a tension snapping loose, your cum landing on their cheekbones, their temples, between their lips - It's a long, slow roll through the valley of your abs - Miyeon licking into Sana's panting mouth and swiping through the streak of white you just pumped out into her fucking hair; the messy collision of lips, swallows, tongues; the faint, slow sounds, the slickness-

"Look," she breathes. You can hear the way their words hitch when their fingers hook eachother, guiding through the mess across their skin, dipping through the sticky cum, circling the plush pout of their bottom lips; and it's Sana that grabs Miyeon by the wrist, bringing her hand forward; sucking, running her mouth in a lazy path all across the width, "that's all, fuck, I need to. Wanna taste all of it."

You just groan.

Miyeon is slumped into the lacework of Sana's limbs, swapping the tastes between her tongue and the space of their breath; while her own thumb caresses the raw, stretched opening of her ass. Sana whispers things, incoherencies, into Miyeon's hair: kisses at her temple, strokes the muscles of Miyeon's back. Feeling how they shiver, they heave, they fall - exhausted and flushed in the heat of one-another's embrace. She licks the words across Miyeon's cheek and follows with her nose trailing Miyeon's jaw, and your cum's smearing a streak onto Miyeon's bottom lip, before their tongues have tangled themselves into another messy, well-fucked kind of collision.

"Good girls," you mumble, kissing Miyeon's knuckles, and helping Sana to her feet.

Your legs are a lot less shaky than either the two of theirs, but it's okay, you pick Miyeon up and set her on the sink; and then turn on the tap for the both of them, since they'd need a wash and some salve.

"Now, what?" says Sana. She's smiling; a washcloth at the ready; some dribble of soap from the bottle.

Miyeon gives her a smirk from over her shoulder, turning away just enough to flip her hair; the ends brush across her jaw. It's a cute little quirk of the eyebrow; the upward twinge to the corner of the lip; it's a motion that knows every muscle, every detail.

"Depends," says Miyeon, sharpening up her tone just the littlest bit, "the bath looks like a tight fit for all three of us but," and there it is - the mischievous glint; the curve in her hips, her mouth, and, of course - you notice the way her eyes drop to the stiffness of your cock. The way her voice purrs, all light, but a lot more intent: "Did you see the shower? It's absolutely gigantic."

"I saw the detachable head," Sana throws out. A teasing little comment, one you remember - that sends a pretty deep shudder down your stomach and thighs. Your cock twitches, hard and - okay, good thing Miyeon booked the room for a week and then some. The view is pretty great: watching your cock get rock-solid in under five seconds. Watching them kiss the same knowing look, sharing the private joke. Watching their hips swing, watching them slide the glass door: Miyeon in front and Sana from behind.

It's in unison that they both turn over their shoulder and ask, "won't you help us test it out?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be right there." You shake your head, "so thirsty," even though, you know you're equally to blame.

-

It's that tiny whisper of "don't look at me like you don't have cum in weird places either, hm?" that Sana gives you, while Miyeon is washing her hair, rubbing and sliding along the locks. "I'll help you with the spots that are hard to reach, come here."

It's that little, meaningful, mischievous curl in Miyeon's lip when the water's pouring, and your breath falls across her skin. The way her hands reach out for you, even when Sana takes her chin and plants a firm, messy kiss across her mouth. It's the same gesture Miyeon's making, using Sana's forearm for support. How she runs the palm of her other hand along the back of Sana's thighs, slipping and pressing forward to guide, nudge. She pulls Sana onto her toes, aligning their bodies. It's in the little laughs they share, the wet smacks of lips, the soft little hums they make when tongues slip over, into the open.

It's here too, that you first ever get them confused, just a momentary slip up of "Sana, could you grab the towel-" or some equivalent, when you glance away at the perfect wrong moment and you're left just a little puzzled, still mostly entranced by the sight of the steam on the glass and their fingertips drawing patterns into it as they lean in for another kiss, or a moan-

"Oh," Miyeon says, delighted, "I'm supposed to be her, right?"

They're fucking-

Sana is less enthused. "Stop. I do not. Am not."

- identical.

"Look, I didn't mean-"

Miyeon laughs to cut you off and skips the argument. She winks, and somehow that makes it worse.

It's there too, the look of regret when your fingertips curl into the skin of her breast, your thumbs a tease against the rigid nubs of her nipples and the texture of her pretty stomach. They don't realize how much you really love their matching expressions. So, they don't mind the mixup, and besides: you just follow Sana's guiding hands and let your lips ghost-kiss, so gently across Miyeon's thigh. It's impossible to imagine a version that isn't one and the other, the two of them, here, with you: sharing kisses, offering the gentlest, slowest exploration, teasing and tugging a gasp of a response.

"Hey," Miyeon muses, "does that mean you'll keep your cock warm in me once we go to bed and feed me a steady stream of ice cubes between all the sessions, mm?"

Sana raises her head in faux offense and drops back into the comfort of Miyeon's thighs. "Jeez-us christ," Sana huffs; "one day with him and she thinks she's me. Have mercy."

"She isn't?" you ask.

Sana sighs. "Um. Not even close."

Miyeon beams at the both of you. She even runs her fingers through Sana's hair, doting - affectionate. "She'll come around to the idea eventually, don't worry. Until then I'm more than happy to take on the role. It can't be that hard, yeah? Just to be all - naughty-sexy-sweet-oh, look, a surprise, i’m actually ready to get fucked six ways to sunday-"

-you get an eyeful of whatever they are doing, this time just, fucking-

Sana only says, "it'll have to take an exceptional amount of patience on both your parts."

-gorgeous, lewd, completely fucking filthy.

"I got a lot, babe."

The second Sana opens her mouth, it's followed with: "pfffht."

It's just, who wouldn't give them whatever they want? Whatever they ask? There's a list out there: no doubt the both of them, gagging. Throat-deep. In their little skirts. Panties. Naked and straddled, just, across their hands. One, maybe. Or both all the same, or still a different preference. One behind the other and taking turns. Something - and this is important, here:

"Look," they say, eyes wide up at you and blinking - on the same fucking beat no less, "you can trust us, okay?"

(Gentleman and distinguished scholars: the list, by the way, only ever gets longer.)

[songsofadelaide]

Soshiro wasn't a stickler for rules. However, he didn't like seeing officers flout rules, either. He always stood somewhere in between sticking to the rules while not being a strait-laced, by-the-book kind of leader.

With that being said, he really had no qualms about workplace relationships as long as they didn't get in the way of his officers' jobs.

Soshiro couldn't be completely against the whole thing. Not when you were around. If he were being honest, though, he would've been one of his Captain's biggest headaches if not for his great respect for her. Mina liked order, and she always took pride in an orderly Third Division. For her own Vice Captain to become the main source of mayhem would spell trouble for her.

Good thing he liked staying out of trouble. Save for a few exceptions. Involving you, his favourite Platoon Leader. Not that he'd ever outright admit it, too.

He did admit to how you piqued his interest the moment you decided to enlist in the Defense Force. You were a retired fencer, your papers bookmarked with a recommendation by the Japan Fencing Federation— but whatever skill with a sabre you have would prove useless, seeing the force's growing preference for automatic firearms. Fortunately, that wasn't the case for the Third Division. They'll always have room for blade masters, or at least that's what you've been told during the Presentation of Enlistment Certificate Ceremony.

And Soshiro liked how good you looked in your formal uniform. He'd never admit that outright, too, unless he wanted to be accused of favouritism for real. (Or worse: predatory behaviour by a senior officer.)

While you were mostly a reserved and unassuming person off the field, many of your colleagues called you a raging tempest in missions, the kind they'd get swept away in if they ever got in your way. You endeavoured to accomplish every task as swiftly and efficiently as possible— without breaking ranks, of course. Your tenacity was rewarded in the form of a promotion to Platoon Leader, an unexpected but welcomed opportunity. Soshiro seemed to agree with the Captain that you were a worthy investment and that other officers could stand to learn a thing or two from you.

You tried not to pay too much mind at the Vice Captain's growing interest in you, though you had to admit that it was pretty flattering. The second strongest person in the Third Division placed a lot of stock in your ability to get the job done. And though you've had your shortcomings, your accountability endeared yourself to him even more.

(So much so that Mina had to remind him of his position. She had no qualms about workplace relationships as long as they didn't get in the way of her officers' jobs. As long as order was maintained, too.)

Even you couldn't help your curiosity when you caught wind that this year's new recruits were an exceptional bunch— and that one happened to share tremendously intimate history with the Captain. It was a sizzling hot press release you couldn't help but sink your teeth into when Tae started talking your ears off about it.

You tried not to make that much noise as you both made your way back to your personal quarters that evening, but your topic was far too interesting to just stop and drop— it was about your usually pensive Captain...

"Do you think the Captain will start softening up?" You couldn't help but muse as you helped yourself to your canned coffee.

"Doubt it! This is Captain Ashiro we're talking about," your fellow Platoon Leader remarked. "Then again, she's still a woman..."

Pretty much, you thought to yourself. Woman or not, a person's relationships shape the way others view them. Officer Hibino's revelations about his shared childhood memories with Captain Ashiro painted her in a new light, unveiling her as a tender girl in her youth— more human than machine like everyone else thought her to be...

"I heard something interesting about you, too," Tae said, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "One of the rookies said they already knew you from before. When you were still a professional fencer."

There's only one, you sighed to yourself this time. "It must be Haruichi-kun. If you must know, Tae-chan, Izumo Tech sponsored my fencing journey, especially when I was just starting out."

"That's not all, too," she chuckled at your slight change of tone. "Last I heard, the kid might even have a crush on you."

"That is not true at all," you elbowed her and laughed at her statement. "That's probably the most absurd thing I've heard in my entire life. Haruichi-kun is—"

"Why do you think it's absurd? I think it's ridiculously truthful," came the voice of a man from behind you.

"Vice Captain! G-Good evening!" You squeaked and managed a salute as Soshiro made his approach. He didn't look like he was ready to retire for the night just yet, but was just hanging around.

"Kafka's tales have made the rounds, huh?"

"It's hard not to get roped into the gossip when it's so interesting," Tae said with a grin. "And with a Captain like ours who's so well-loved and well-respected, it's pretty tempting to hear what kind of person she was when she was just a kid."

"Yeah, she really went for her goals and succeeded," you nodded in agreement. "She's awe-inspiring."

"We're all aware of how amazing our Captain is," Soshiro stated with the same recognisable cheer in his voice. "But what's that thing about you and one of the rookies again?"

"Y-You mean about me and Haruichi-kun, Vice Captain? I-I mean Officer Izumo—"

The redhead standing right next to you could only purse her lips to prevent herself from laughing out loud, because by the gods, only she and a handful of other superior officers were aware of their Vice Captain's vested interest-turned-infatuation with you. And this was their Vice Captain getting all jealous and territorial with you.

"I'm just gonna go ahead and turn in for the night," Tae said as she nudged you before breaking out into a salute directed at Soshiro. "Good night, Vice Captain!"

"T-Tae-chan?!" You could only call out to your fellow Platoon Leader as she disappeared into the darkened hallway leading to your quarters. A little whimper of defeat left your lips as you turned back in the direction of your Vice Captain. "Vice Captain—"

"Are you two close?"

"Huh?"

"You and the rookie."

Close wasn't exactly the right word for you two. Haruichi was your main sponsor's son. You've met a lot of times before and have nothing but great respect for each other. A silly crush doesn't do him any justice. That rumour was made in poor taste and faith.

You shook your head at your superior. "We're familiar with each other, but not really as close as everyone thinks."

"Is that so?" Soshiro said, not at all sounding convinced. "If I ask him, will he say the same thing?"

"I suppose," you replied to him with another small sigh of resignation. "I'm sorry, Vice Captain. It's not a nice rumour, if you ask me... I feel sorry for... the rookie for being embroiled in this mess."

"Don't apologise because of that," he said as he reached out for your hand. "If you're going to apologise, at least say sorry because I heard it and believed it."

You can confirm now that he wasn't there to reprimand you at all since his hold on you was both tender and solid. There was a storm in his wine-dark gaze— languid but brewing, and the way he looked at you made you want to dive right into the depths of his eyes.

"Hoshina likes you."

It was a thought you pushed at the very back of your mind ever since your Captain first let that slip when you took a bath together once. You thought she was joking at first, but she didn't take it back at all.

"But you didn't hear that from me."

And she even followed it up with, "don't let your personal feelings get in the way of your work"— like hell this revelation won't get in the way of your work!

You didn't want to think about it at all but here it was, staring you right in your face.

"Vice Captain, can we t—"

No, what were you thinking? The moment you say you want to talk about it will change everything. You'll blur the fine line between superior and subordinate. He'll cease being just your Vice Captain and become something else.

Something more.

"If you want to talk, let's do it somewhere more comfortable," he told you as you caught the twinkle of expectation in his eyes. You were likely playing into his hands now, so what else could you do but dance to his rhythm?

"Yes, of course. My personal quarters are nearby," you said, pointing in the direction of the dimly lit hallway that Tae disappeared into moments ago. "If... If it's all right with you..."

Soshiro didn't speak as he eyed your embarrassed face, but his mischievous, victorious cat-like smile did all the talking for him. It was he who opened the door and led you in, his hand warm on the small of your back even though you extended the invitation to him. And though you said you wanted to talk to him— to clear the air and rid yourself of this trepidation and hesitation that you felt— very few and far between words were exchanged that night.

You liked him too, after all. Now all those times your eyes met even though you were just about to look at him made sense. He's had eyes for you ever since.

You drank deep into his wine-coloured eyes while he helped himself to your warmth, the tempest that you were now in his arms as a single beam of sunlight he wanted to keep all to himself.

And keep you he did.

When word got out that the female rookies caught Vice Captain Hoshina leaving your room early the following morning, you already expected to be summoned to the Captain's office that very day.

But instead of being vexed about the situation and her Vice Captain's unusually poor judgment, Mina had a rather amused expression on her otherwise normally calm face as she sat across from you two.

"What happened to not flouting the rules, Hoshina?"

"Hey, it's not like I wanted to get caught!" Soshiro shot back at her, though there was very little he could do in the face of his Captain's evident thrill at his predicament.

"I can turn a blind eye to this, but the rumours are already out there," she continued. "I suppose I'll have to mete out some form of 'punishment' for you both. Just to make an example out of you."

"I-I'll accept whatever punishment you have in mind, C-Captain!" You exclaimed with a stiff and deep bow. You've never been reprimanded by the Captain ever since you first started out in the Third Division. For you to be sanctioned for the very first time... I've really done it this time!

"On second thought, I'll just have you two file this instead," Mina stated as she handed you a single sheet of paper with a header in bold letters that read Workplace Relationship Disclosure Form. "As a formality. It's also a written promise that you won't let your relationship get in the way of your jobs."

"That's it? Piece of cake!" Soshiro said with a smile as he read out the form. "We'll file it now and—"

"You'll file it at headquarters yourselves," she said with a small smile as she stood up from her desk. "Other than that, I hope you two managed to talk things out. You're dismissed."

"Headquarters?! Captain Ashiro! We'll do anything! Just don't make us go there! It's such a pain to get there!" He pleaded with the Captain this time. "We'll tell everyone if we have to! I mean that's not a bad idea, too, so they'll know that we're together! But we're just going to be normal about things, we swear!"

"Just how normal are you two going to be?" The Captain said with a small laugh, just like the one you heard from the rumours. "Just promise me you won't let this affect your work. I have great faith in you both, after all."

"Roger!" You exclaimed in unison, followed by your shared tender laughter.

"Good. Now do 30 laps each before training starts again this afternoon," Mina replied to your enthusiasm with another small smile. "I'm really not letting you guys off the hook that easily."

"Th-That's fine, Captain! We-We'll make a start now!" You stammered before she could change her mind about your choice of consequence, throwing her a salute before eventually jogging out of her office.

"Don't make her run your laps, Hoshina. She'll do it for you without even you asking."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Captain. As if I'd let her do all the heavy lifting herself."

"What do you plan on doing about the rumours?"

"Let them talk. It's even better for us. At least they know now who she belongs to."

[poorwritingandstalecoffee]

The Idea of You and Her

Summary: Larissa and you are roommates at Nevermore Academy. After one drunken night, she realizes her feelings for you and makes plans to do something about it. However, things don’t go exactly as planned the next morning. Or, do they?

WC: 2K

Warnings: slight mentions of sex

Note: I re-watched Maleficent and had an idea.

Larissa stared at the clock on her watch. Her eyes tracked the second hand as it passed 12 for the thousandth time. Her ears had long tuned out to the chatter of people around her but vaguely picked up the screeching whir of one of the coffee machines behind the counter. The heel of her shoe tapped repeatedly on the tile floor, and she clenched her teeth at the lack of movement from the line of customers ahead of her.

Should have fucking woken up earlier, she thought. However, the second the thought flitted through her mind, images of your warm, soft sleeping body lying on top of her flashed through her mind’s eye. A pink bush bloomed across her cheeks at the thought of your smooth, nude body and the sounds you made last night, the feeling of your skin gliding over hers, the cries you pulled from her.

She turned her head away from others and glanced out the window, thinking of the soft, heavy weight of you and how her hands slowly, instinctively tightened their hold around your waist. How, without even thinking, she buried her nose in your hair and breathed you in. A smile itched its way onto her face at how you automatically moved toward her in your sleep, curling your arms around her back, fingers lightly gripping her shoulders, your head settling in the crook of her neck.

“Order for Larissa!”

Larissa’s head jerked up toward the barista’s call. The blush deepened to red as she noticed the line of people in front of her no longer there and the impatient scowl of the teenager behind the counter leveled at her. She hastily walked forward and picked up the drink carrier and pastry bags. Her eyes were downcast as she mumbled, “Ah, sorry.”

She turned quickly and walked out of the Weathervane, making a beeline for the dorm you shared at Nevermore. She hoped to god you weren’t awake yet. Hoped that when you opened your eyes and saw her waiting arms with the offering of coffee and breakfast, you would smile, kiss her, lean back into her embrace, and stay in her bed for just a little bit longer. But above all, Larissa hoped that the way you looked at her last night—like she was your whole world, the center of your universe—would stay the same without the layer of alcohol clouding your mind.

She looked up at the winding path of the school as she rounded the corner. The cold morning Autumn air nipped at her skin. She hunched her shoulders and curled her arms inward, pressing the warm coffee and bags of food against her coat. As she crossed the gated drive, Larissa frowned at the onslaught of what-ifs in her mind. Yes, you were both drunk; yes, you were her best friend. Yes, you were there all the times she cried over Morticia, her schoolwork, and the judgmental stares toward her body. Yes, you held her and whispered to her that none of it mattered because she was Larissa, who was intelligent, funny, strong, beautiful, and so much more human than any of those fools, who could do anything she wanted. Yes, you laughed with her, cried with her, studied for finals with her, agonized over assignments with her, danced with her…kissed her, touched her, loved her. Yes, you looked at her like she was something else—something beautiful and important—but was that the same look as the one you gave her last night? Every time you sighed, moaned, and cried out in pleasure with her, was the twinkle in your eyes the same one you always had for her? Was the crooked smile you gave her last night the same as all the ones you gave her every day?

As Larissa walked up the steps and through the doors to your hallway, she thought to herself, Was the same “I love you” you whispered to me last night the same “I love you” you tell me every day?

Larissa came to the door of the dorm room, and she whispered shakily, “Please, God, let it be.” Placing the bag in the crooked of her elbow, she reached out and shouldered the door open. Larissa cringed at the creaking hinges and slowly opened the door. She peaked her head around the frame, let her eyes move over your untouched bed, and then—

Larissa scowled and moved into the room. She stared at her empty bed and, for a second, felt fear seize her body before she heard the sound of a toilet flushing and a sinking running from the closed bathroom door behind her. Larissa sighed heavily and glanced toward the closed door before hurriedly placing the coffee and food down on her nightstand. She saw her note telling you not to go anywhere moved a few inches away from where she had placed it. She smiled at the idea of you waiting for her.

Larissa heard the water turn off from the bathroom and jumped, shrugged off her coat, threw it on a side chair, and hurriedly jumped onto the bed. She fumbled with the blankets, suddenly feeling awkward, and felt her breathing become erratic.

You pushed open the door, a hand dragging over your sleep-pressed face, and shouldered your body through the bathroom doorway. You grunted at your large wings getting caught under the frame. You pressed them down and pushed out with one clawed hand gripping the doorframe.

Larissa heard you coming out, jerked her hands into her lap, and glanced up at you. Her eyes widened, and she screamed, a hand clasped to her gaping mouth.

You flinched and looked up at her with a startled look before glancing at your hands and wings. Right, she’s never seen my form before, she thought. You look at her with a sheepish smile, your fangs sending another jolting shock through Larissa. She stared as your taller, muscle-toned body lugged toward her.

She watched your hand, with blackened finger-like claws, reach behind and run through your unruly bedhead hair while the other slowly curled around the black wing that moved in front of your body. Her eyes rose, and she gaped at the large horns curling out of your head.

Slowly, you said, “Uhh, yeah….not my best morning.”

Larissa sputtered and blinked up at you. “Uh-uh,” she glanced down and saw your biceps flex as you crossed your arms, your muscular thighs, long legs that crossed and uncrossed as you stood there looking anxiously at her. She blushed at your ripped body, now no longer fitting the pajamas you wore.

“Umm, do you huh wanna sit,” she glanced down and gestured to the space next to her.

“Ohh… uhh sure, yeah.” You jumped and walked around to your side. You gingerly lowered yourself to the mattress and rubbed at your forearms.

Larissa felt the heat of your body and glanced up at you. Seeing the growing anxiety and sadness marring your features, she suddenly felt panicked at the realization she screamed in fear at your appearance. She hurriedly turned toward you and hesitantly reached out toward you.

From the corner of your eyes, you watched Larissa slowly place her hand in your larger one, weave her fingers through your blackened ones, and tug you toward her. You glanced at her from under your lashes, and Larissa’s heart broke at how fearful and hesitant she made you become toward her.

Larissa cleared her throat and, remembering why she woke up early, turned and reached for the coffee. Holding the carrier, she leaned towards you, hoping you would face her. “Peace offering,” she asked.

You glanced at the coffee cups, steam still floating out of the opening, and then Larissa’s pleading eyes. You expected fear, hesitancy, judgmental questions—everything people have thrown at you. Yet, all you saw was hope, an unsaid apology, and something else that reminded you of last night and made your heart beat faster. You quirked a smile at her, turned toward her, and reached out to grasp one of the cups.

Larissa sighed and grinned at you. She set the carrier down and reached behind her for the bag of food, never once letting go of your hand. “I got these two,” she said, giggling at how you curiously peered into the bag.

“Ooo, gimme gimme.” You made a grabbing hand at the large hot cinnamon roll she pulled out. Larissa shook her head, and her smile grew at the familiar excitement in your eyes at the food.

“I will never understand your obsession with cinnamon rolls. They're nothing but pure sugar!”

You stuffed a chunk of the pastry in your mouth. While chewing, you said, “Ifs all in fhe ough an icin. Pure heafen.”

Larissa laughed at you and reached out to wipe the excess icing from the corners of your lips. As she pulled her finger away, Larissa looked into your eyes and stared at the little flecks of color she saw up close.

You stared at her, watching her expression morph into that same warm, open admiration. Swallowing your food, you slowly leaned forward and watched Larissa glance down at your lips and then back up to your eyes. You glanced down at her lips before looking back up at her. “Am I really that scary to you?”

She momentarily frowned and tilted her head. She glanced at your black horns and followed their path as they curled above your head like a crown. Her eyes moved to the large wings; they curled around your shoulders, and the feathers glistened onyx under the sunlight streaming in from the window. She let her eyes move over your muscular biceps, your forearms, and down to your hands. She observed how they could easily cover her own, hold them—hold her—like she was the most precious thing to you. Larissa moved her fingers over your blackened fingers and across the long, sharp nails. She looked at you and saw the ends of fangs pointing out of your lips and then to your eyes. Larissa stared at them, and what she found was nothing but love and a fearful hope.

Larissa felt her stomach flip at how you looked at her, and she thought, There it is. There you are. She smiled and slowly as if she was afraid you would bolt from her, she raised her hands to cup your cheeks.

You held your breath at the look she was giving you and wondered if her heart was beating as fast as yours was.

“No, you're not scary at all. Why would you be? You're you—you’re y/n. The same person I've always been in love with…” Larissa whispered. She looked into your eyes and waited, waited, and waited for you to say something, do something.

Your eyes widened at what she said, and you exhaled in shaky breaths. “You… you love me?”

Larissa’s eyes watered, and her smile grew. “I love you. So fucking mu—”

You leaned forward and kissed her with everything you had. You placed your hands around her waist and slowly pulled her onto your lap, forgetting the pastries and coffee.

Larissa sighed into your mouth, tasted the sweet icing on your lips, and moved her hands into your hair.

You ran your hands up her back, feeling her arch into you. You pulled back, leaned your forehead against hers, and gave her a familiar goofy smile that Larissa absolutely adored. “I love you too.”

She grinned, feeling the excitement, relief, and love she had for you wash over her. Larissa kissed you again and wrapped her legs around you. She let her hands wander over your body, feeling your muscles tense and relax under her. You swiped your tongue along her bottom lip, and she flinched at the feeling of your fangs against her lips.

“Sorry,” you mumbled and pulled back.

“No, no! I- I like them…a lot more than you think.” Larissa blushed suddenly, very aware of the hot, wet feeling between her legs. She squirmed in your arms, and the realization dawned on you.

“Ohh, you mean you like them.” You smirked and gripped her hips, pulling her to grind down on you.

Larissa’s breath hitched, and she gripped your shoulders. She tried glaring at you but only sighed when you did it again and began kissing her neck, making sure to glide your fangs over her skin with your tongue. “Asshole.” She groaned as you sucked on her pulse point.

You moved her to one thigh and relished the moan she released as you moved her hips again to give her the friction she needed. “You love me,” you smirked against her lips and kissed her again.

She gasped as you tensed your thigh and felt herself jerking towards you with a growing need. “Ohh, do I.”

[youremyheaven]

Punarvasu & Swati: Cosmogony, Reality & Consciousness

Punarvasu and Swati are deeply intertwined nakshatras with very similar patterns and themes. Punarvasu's deity Goddess Aditi embodies infinity and vast primordial space. She is boundless and limitless. Swati's deity Vayu is the ruler of air & wind and connected to the life force or prana (or qi).

Both these nakshatras connect to space, infinity, abundance and are known for being wealth giving nakshatras.

Ruth Handler, the inventor of Barbie had Swati Sun & Mercury along with Ketu in Punarvasu

Margot Robbie who played Barbie has Swati Moon & Punarvasu Rising

I had briefly mentioned this in my Tomie post but Swati & Punarvasu's themes are manifest in Barbie because Barbie is not a person, she is a type of doll, and she can be anyone or anything. Barbie is a whole universe into herself, this is the cosmic abundance and infinitude of Swati & Punarvasu.

My Tomie post also talks about how Tomie is a Punarvasu so do check that out!!

I have always thought that Punarvasu & Swati are related to time travel which makes sense provided the cosmic infinitude embodied in these naks.

Predestination, a time- travel movie starring Ethan Hawke who is Swati Sun (do watch it, its really good))

Bruce Willis has been in several time-travel movies, including 12 Monkeys & Looper. He has Jupiter in Punarvasu atmakaraka

The 1960 movie The Time Machine stars Rod Taylor who has Ketu in Swati.

The Terminator movies starring Arnold Schwarzenegger- Punarvasu stellium (mercury, venus & rising). Arnold like many Punarvasus have been in many sci-fi movies that concern the nature of reality, in fact his own autobiography is called Total Recall (he's been in a movie of the same name and its about what is real and what isn't- peak Punarvasu behaviour I must say)

Planet of the Apes stars Charlton Heston who has Punarvasu Moon, Swati Rising

Frequency stars Dennis Quaid who has Punarvasu Moon & Ketu

The Matrix/ The Lake House/Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure are all time travel movies starring Keanu Reeves who is Punarvasu Moon.

Its interesting to me that many Punarvasus have often spoken about "creating your reality".

Octavia Butler, the writer has Punarvasu Rising (the themes of this nak is vv apparent in her work but I'll perhaps discuss that in a future post) and this^^ is a page from her journal that she wrote in the 1970s wayyy before manifestation was a "thing".

Butler grew up very poor in an era of racial segregation and suffered from dyslexia. She overcame great odds to become one of the best-selling sci-fi novelists of all time.

Miranda Kerr- Punarvasu Moon often talks about the power of our thoughts and has referenced writers like David R Hawkins (who talks about the nature of consciousness) a lot. Here's a quote from her book.

“Start each day by saying to yourself: ‘How amazing it is to be alive! What a wondrous feeling I have inside! I am awake, healthy and full of joy!’ Visualise every cell in your body being filled with vitality, health and love.”- Treasure Yourself

Miranda grew up quite lower middle class on a farm in rural Australia and then went on to become one of the best known models in the world and is now married to a billionaire.

Arnold Schwarzenegger- Punarvasu Rising (and stellium)

If you've read his autobiography or watched his Netflix documentary yk that he talks constantly about the power of the mind, having focus etc

He grew up in a small town in Austria (after WW2) with an abusive father and also suffered from dyslexia. He then went on to become one of the biggest movie stars of all time and was the Governor of California???

Ariana Grande- Mercury in Punarvasu sings about manifestation and law of attraction quite a lot. She was a side character on a Nickelodeon show and 10yrs later she's one of the biggest pop- stars.

Nikola Tesla, Punarvasu Sun & Venus

Tesla discovered automatic current transmission & generation technology which is responsible for modern day wireless connections. He's also super Punarvasu core as a person, he had eidetic memory, apparently did not sleep more than 2 hours per night, was interested in Vedic cosmology & philosophy (he used terms like akasha & prana to describe the relationship between matter & energy). I find this quote by him very interesting, "To me, the universe is simply a great machine which never came into being and never will end". I personally don't believe in the Big Bang theory and I'm inclined to believe that the universe has always existed instead of having come into existence at one point, which imo, is a very anthropocentric idea. Tesla's quote is a reflection of the boundless nature of Aditi, who is the cosmic mother, she embodies creation.

fun fact: Elon Musk who named Tesla after him is Punarvasu Mercury & Rising.

Interestingly enough, several decades before the Big Bang theory gained mainstream acceptance and was studied by scientists, Edgar Allan Poe published a lecture/essay on the matter titled Eureka: A Prose Poem in 1848 (!!!!). He had Swati Rising

Can you believe that he, a man with zero scientific background essentially came up with ideas that would serve as the basis of 20th century scientific discoveries & theories??? That too in 1848???

Analysis of Eureka's scientific content shows congruities with modern cosmology, stemming from Poe's assumption of an evolving Universe and it also contains ideas about the unity of space and time, the mathematical equality of matter and energy, the velocity of light and a rudimentary concept of relativity, black holes (including one at the centre of our Milky Way), a "pulsating" universe that renews itself eternally, and other universes in other dimensions with different laws of nature.

A writer & poet who dropped out of college came up with all that in 1848. Swatis & Punarvasus have the ability to understand complex concepts, systems, and processes intuitively. This is why they are so good at analysis, strategy and planning. They have a futuristic vision because its easy for them to see how current events will affect other things and manifest in the future. Those who don't have these placements will struggle to understand what this is like because most of us aren't endowed with this sort of ability to see the trees and the forest all at once.

Interestingly, the scientist Georges Lemaître who first proposed the "Big Bang theory" of the origin of the universe, calling it the "hypothesis of the primaeval atom", and later calling it "the beginning of the world" is a Punarvasu Sun.

Leonardo da Vinci is known for his foresight and is considered a visionary. He, in the 15th & 16th centuries, pondered upon the possibilities of human flight and left behind diagrams and models of the helicopter, the parachute, the machine gun, the humanoid robot, the revolving bridge, the ideal city and much more. He had Ketu in Punarvasu.

Carl Jung created some of the best-known psychological concepts, including synchronicity, archetypal phenomena, the collective unconscious, the psychological complex, and extraversion and introversion. He had Punarvasu Mercury & Venus and it explains why there was such a heavy emphasis on "darkness" vs "light" in his work (Punarvasu being "the return of the light").

He is the father of Analytical Psychology which seeks to "analyze the relationship between a person's individual consciousness and the deeper common structures which underlie them. Personal experiences both activate archetypes in the mind and give them meaning and substance for the individual. At the same time, archetypes covertly organize human experience and memory, their powerful effects becoming apparent only indirectly and in retrospect. Understanding the power of the collective unconscious can help an individual to navigate through life."

In fact, vedic astrology (Jung did use astrology as well btw) serves as a very interesting way to explore the collective unconscious and the many archetypes that are manifest in individuals possessing them.

I will make a post in the future comparing Freud & Jung and how their different astrological placements contributed to their similar but differing views.

George Orwell, who was a fierce critic of totalitarianism had Swati Rising, if you read his works, you can see how he's able to analyse the effects and consequences of the same, especially 1984 which was sooo ahead of its time in the sense that much of what was written in the book is eerily similar to what's going on in the world right now.  The novel examines the role of truth and facts within societies and how they can be manipulated.

Swatis & Punarvasus are super Futuristic, as individuals or visionaries as well as in their art & work. They dominate in the surreal/scifi genre.

Robin Williams- Swati Rising stars as an android in Bicentennial Man which is a movie about a robot who learns how to be human. Transcending humanity is a big theme in the works of Swati natives.

On this note, I have noticed several Swati & Punarvasu natives star in movies featuring/about cloning 👀 This does not surprise me as I had already mentioned this in my Tomie post but it is fascinating how Swati & Punarvasu's ability to be many many versions of themselves is made manifest in this trope of clones.

I have to mention how both Rahu & Jupiter have a very boundless, obese energy that is hard to contain. This can be manifest negatively because its very easy for energy of this proportion to be misused and misdirected but when they're harnessed positively, these individuals are capable of envisioning change that have few/no other parallels.

Moon (2009) is a movie that features the main character and his clones. Sam Rockwell, Swati Sun plays the main character.

Tom Cruise, Punarvasu moon (acc to Claire Nakti) stars in Oblivion and plays a clone of himself. One version of him is good, his "clone" is evil. The battle between good & evil within oneself is a VERY Jupiterian trope (and I shall make a post solely about that in the near future).

Multiplicity is a 90s scifi-comedy about a guy who clones himself so that he can do all the things he wants to do. Michael Keaton who plays the protagonist has Swati Moon

The Sixth Day is a movie starring Arnold Schwarzenegger (Punarvasu stellium) and it is about cloning. The title is a reference to the Abrahamic Genesis concept of how God created mankind on the sixth day.

This in itself is very interesting because Punarvasu is the 7th nakshatra and in the Bible, it is said "And on the seventh day God finished the work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work that he had done. So God blessed the seventh day and made it holy because on it God rested from all the work that he had done in creation."

7 is a number that has profound spiritual meaning and is present in many religions as a figure of significance. From this verse taken from the Book of Genesis, it is interesting to note that ""7" is the culmination of creation. It is the day on which God rested because he had already created. It is not nothingness, it is the day on which everything already existed. This is a significant Punarvasu theme.

Replicas stars Keanu Reeves (Punarvasu Moon) as a neuroscientist who tries to revive his deceased family members by cloning them.

Its interesting how in these films, natives appear either as a clone or as the ones who do the cloning, furthermore connecting it back to Punarvasu's creation trope.

Harrison Ford, Punarvasu sun & moon stars as in and as the Blade Runner (1982) where he must "pursue and terminate four replicants who stole a ship in space and have returned to Earth to find their creator."

David Cronenberg is a director best known for making really weird, surreal, futuristic movies that heavily feature themes related to the nature of reality, consciousness etc

He is a Punarvasu Moon & Jupiter

Gakuryu Ishii, Punarvasu Moon is another filmmaker who makes movies that heavily centre around truth, reality, consciousness, the future etc.

I recommend his movie Mirrored Mind which heavily deals with identity, consciousness etc (its vaguely reminiscent of Perfect Blue)

Robert de Niro Punarvasu Rising, stars in the movie Awakenings (based on a true story) as a catatonic patient who has an "awakening" before tragically going back into catatonia, Robin Williams, Swati Rising stars as the doctor who administers a drug that induces this awakening.

In Vedic philosophy, there are 3 gunas, Rajas, Tamas & Sattva.

Tamas is a state of darkness, inertia, inactivity, 

Rajas is a state of energy, action, change, and movement.

Sattva is a state of harmony, balance, joy, and intelligence. 

Punarvasu belongs to the Rajas guna whereas Swati belongs to Tamas guna.

Tamas can be described as a state of statis or stagnation as there is no transformation and thus no change. Punarvasu natives are prone to passivity and it is only when they face their own destructive shadow, do they emerge out of passivity to their natural state of Rajas. In this movie, Deniro's experience where he emerges from his catatonia with a desire for freedom and to live life to the fullest before eventually accepting the fact that his condition cannot be remedied inspires the Doctor played by Robin Williams to emerge out of his own shell and live life more fully.

Punarvasus are often restricted by situations beyond their control yet they are possessed by a yearning to live life to the fullest. Swatis often have unmeasured freedom and do not know how to utilize it, they are restricted by their own character.

The Gaia Hypothesis proposed by James Lovelock (1972) suggests that living organisms on the planet interact with their surrounding inorganic environment to form a synergetic and self-regulating system that created, and now maintains, the climate and biochemical conditions that make life on Earth possible.

It is a holistic view, which is generally not appreciated in science that likes to favour randomness, chance or whatever instead of the innate harmony and union behind creation.

James Lovelock has Punarvasu moon & Swati rising

Lynn Margulis who co-developed this theory with him most likely has Revati Moon and I will be exploring her symbiotic view of evolution on a different post as it goes beyond the scope of this one.

Edit: as @brundlefly333 pointed out, the French philosopher Henri Bergson (Punarvasu Moon) has a book called Creative Evolution which extrapolates that whilst "evolution of species can come from external factors "like natural selection", it most importantly (comes) from an internal impulse (a creative force). This creative force is inherently unpredictable and non-linear, leading to the emergence of novelty and complexity in living organisms over time.

I find his "Cone of Memory" (depicted above) hypothesis very fascinating.

The Cone of Memory model can be imagined as an inverted cone, with the apex representing the present moment, the base symbolizing the entirety of one’s past experiences, and the cone’s vertical axis signifying the flow of time. As the present moment progresses, the apex of the cone moves upward along the axis, continuously stretching the cone outward as it incorporates new experiences and memories into a person’s consciousness. The memories from our past experiences are layered into the cone, with the most recent memories residing closer to the apex and older memories located further down, towards the base.

Bergson’s model emphasizes the active role of individual perception, memory, and experience in shaping one’s consciousness. The human mind, as depicted by Bergson, interacts with the objective world while drawing from its accumulated memories to create individual experiences in real time. The Cone of Memory focuses on the dynamic interplay between perception, memory, and experience, hoping to account for the generation of novel understandings and interpretations of reality.

Bergson’s emphasis on experience at the personal level also has significant implications for how we understand the self. In his view, the self is not a static entity but rather a constantly developing process, shaped by the dynamic interplay of perception, memory, and experience. This more fluid conception of the self contrasts sharply with many traditional notions of a fixed, unchanging identity. It also invites us to recognize the transformative power of our own experiences and encounters in the continuous interweaving of the past and present in our temporal consciousness.

It can be summed up with this quote:

"To exist is to change, to change is to mature, to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly"- Henri Bergson

Rudolf Steiner- Ketu in Punarvasu, Swati rising

Steiner's breadth of work encompasses many fields, he pioneered modern-day organic farming, anthroposophical medicine (what we call alternate medicine including homeopathy, massages and frequency work etc rooted in the human body's ability to heal itself) invented the Waldorf education system (alternative schooling) and tried to merge science and spirituality.

All of this is vvv Punarvasu & Swati coded because its these natives who are frequently drawn to non-traditional systems of thought & experience and also merging a vast variety of techniques + being well versed in a lot of different fields etc comes down to having the inner space to hold all of it. This is literally not something most other people can do. Pursuit of knowledge can easily drain/deplete people but Punarvasu & Swati natives have a boundless thirst for knowledge and innately understand the profound truth that everything is connected.

Symbiosis, synergy, syncretism etc are all themes prominent in the works of Swati & Punarvasu natives who tend to view things as a coherent whole and not separate from one another; everything in creation exists to serve one another and exist in perfect harmony. Its not by "accident" that human beings took shape on earth where all the elements exist to continually support human life, every tiny detail is manifest in divine perfection and it helps us understand that we are a part of a larger system and that what we do affects changes at both the micro and macro level.

"Synergetics is the empirical study of systems in transformation, with an emphasis on whole system behaviours unpredicted by the behaviour of any components in isolation. R. Buckminster Fuller (1895–1983) named and pioneered the field. His two-volume work Synergetics: Explorations in the Geometry of Thinking."

Buckminster Fuller had Punarvasu sun & jupiter

I think I had made a post about how Punarvasu natives tend to make geometric art that features repetitive patterns and motifs. I thought Fuller's use of the term "Geometry of Thinking" was very Punarvasu of him.

Pls look him up and his work, its very interesting and if you have Punarvasu placements you might find things you resonate with. I dont want to make this post any longer so I'm not including more of his work although all of it really fits with the theme tbh.

Amartya Sen, the Indian economist and philosopher has Swati Sun, he is best known for his contributions to welfare economics, social choice theory, and development economics. His work incorporates the same holistic view of how everything exists in close interaction with everything else, interconnectedness as well as an all encompassing-ness are themes that dominate his work. Society affects the market, the market affects society, all of this affects interpersonal relationships, it takes a Swati/Punarvasu native to deeply embody this sentiment in their thought/work.

George Harrison aka the Spiritual Beatle had Swati moon, Jupiter in punarvasu amatyakaraka.

"It's being here now that's important. There's no past and there's no future. Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever, is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can't relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don't know if there is one."

This quote by him really sums it up.

Robert A Heinlein had Punarvasu sun, jupiter and rahu

Heinlein used his science fiction as a way to explore provocative social and political ideas and to speculate how progress in science and engineering might shape the future of politics, race, religion, and sex. Within the framework of his science-fiction stories, Heinlein repeatedly addressed certain social themes: the importance of individual liberty and self-reliance, the nature of sexual relationships, the obligation individuals owe to their societies, the influence of organized religion on culture and government, and the tendency of society to repress nonconformist thought. He also speculated on the influence of space travel on human cultural practices.

This is yet another example of the interconnectedness of Punarvasu as well as the analytical nature of these natives.

I will end this post here because I've been rambling for too long but I hope this was informative!! Apologies that this was kinda science heavy and not very pop culture centric :/

[tsukimara]

── FRIENDS? ──

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Chapter 2 ࿐ྂ

✎ Summary: You've lost most of your memory, and the world looks different than you remember. While looking for a new safe place, you come across an android which is the only one that doesn't want to attack you. Will he help you or will he prefer to work alone? [Cyberpunk AU]

✎ Warnings: Violence, swearing ⚠

✎ Art: thijikoy (On Twitter/X)

✎ Playlist :D

✎ || PREVIOUS || *ೃ༄ || NEXT || — MASTERLIST

You didn't move an inch, after all, you didn't want to be shot in the head. The silence was unpleasant, you felt cold as the wind blew and the rain started to fall harder. You would have run away except for the fact that you didn't even know where to go and the person behind you certainly knew the area better than you. Before you could think of anything, the person behind you started talking.

"Turn around." Not wanting to piss off the person, you turned around. He was a very tall boy with blue eyes, his ginger hair was wet from the rain and freckles dotted his face. His outfit was rather unusual, a large collar, a long red scarf with a galactic tip and a top jacket revealing his bodysuit (His appearance is shown at the bottom). You completely forgot that he was holding a gun in front of you.

You raised your hands automatically "Hey, hey, hey, can't we talk uhh calmly? If you put your gun away, it would be great." You noticed the confusion on his face as he put his gun back away. You didn't know he would listen.

"Who are you? I can't find your personal information anywhere." Now it was you who looked at him confused. How did he even check it? You tensed a little as he came closer to you and grabbed your arm, but he quickly withdrew his hand as he looked at you in shock.

"You are a human...?" You raised an eyebrow when he asked about it "Umm yeah?" When you said this, he started laughing. Poor guy must have gone crazy seeing all these machines.

"Scara won't believe me if I tell him this." He shook his head with a smile as he stopped laughing and looked at you. "My name is Tartaglia or Childe, call me whatever you want." He offered you his hand to shake, which you looked at a little suspiciously because he had recently held a gun in front of your face, but you sighed and shook his hand. "Y/N..."

Childe crossed his arms and glanced at the place you came from. "I'm surprised you made it out alive." When he understood what he said, he awkwardly combed his ginger hair, which was dripping with water. "It wasn't supposed to sound like that... but there's no time for that, we need to get going." He grabbed your wrist and started pulling you towards the lower stairs behind him. You stumbled slightly, his hand was as cold as ice, making you shiver. No normal person has such cold hands, so you immediately become suspicious again.

"Where are you taking me?" You asked as he let go of you to crouch down and open the hatch. You looked down only to see darkness, even if you sharpened your vision you wouldn't have seen anything. "There's no way I'm going down there."

"Believe me, it's much safer there than here. At least you won't be massacred there by those stupid machines." He said as he pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and started to climb down the ladder, not wanting to be left alone you followed him down. You had so many questions and so few answers, you wanted to deal with this yourself, but seeing how many robots were on the surface, you preferred not to risk your life. You didn't trust this guy, unfortunately there were no other options but to follow him, he would probably force you to go with him anyway.

There was a long tunnel at the bottom, it wasn't very big, but the darkness added to the atmosphere. Childe took something out of his pocket again, it was a small red glowing cube. He threw it on the ground and it formed into a flying skateboard? Noticing your shocked expression, Childe smiled and stood on the skateboard, offering his hand for you to get on.

"What? Is this the first time you've seen something like this?" You felt like he was teasing you, and you frowned as you looked at the skateboard again. Childe noticed your uncertainty so he grabbed you like a cat and set you in front of him. You stood stiffly, not wanting to fall on the cold concrete, you slowly turned your head towards him with an expression of "what the hell, man?" and he just chuckled.

"It would take forever for you to stand on that skateboard." After these words, the skateboard started moving and you reluctantly grabbed his jacket. If you could, you would punch him now, but you preferred not to smash your head on the concrete, so you sat quietly with a dissatisfied face.

"So what were you doing there?" Childe asked after a moment of silence to lighten the mood a bit and you scoffed. "I'd like to know too." You saw him raise an eyebrow but you just shook your head to let him know you didn't want to talk about it. You didn't know how long the ride would take because all you could see was the light from the flashlight and the skateboard.

The silence was slightly awkward so you decided that you would ask the question now. "So where are you taking me? You didn't answer me earlier." He glanced at you and then looked back at the road. "Ah yes, sorry, we're going to the city of Nexor, there's a hidden place where it's safe. The only problem is that we have to get there and it's not that easy." I nodded, showing that I was listening.

"Those androids you've probably seen are also guarding this city, but they look a little different. Let's just say they don't like us."

"Us?" I asked curiously. "Yes, me and my friends. We are a "Friendship team." You wanted to say something but you didn't want to hurt his feelings so you just stared at the road as if you hadn't heard a weird name of their group.

"They are nice... Most of them. We may be androids, but we have feelings." Your eyes widened when you heard this, that's why his hand was so cold but it felt like a human hand. You finally found yourself at the end of the tunnel, as you stepped off the skateboard you felt like your legs were shaking like jelly and your hair was definitely a mess. The skateboard turned back into a cube which Childe put in his pocket and climbed up the ladder.

When you both left, your eyes lit up with excitement as you looked at the city full of colors and new technology. There were no lamps, only neon LEDs that beautifully illuminated the city. While you were still admiring, suddenly your view was blocked by some cloth that landed on your head. As you took it off you noticed it was the scarf Childe was wearing so you turned to him to ask why he gave it to you.

"Why did you give this to me?" He also started taking off his jacket, leaving his arms completely exposed, and then he handed it to you. Is he making a hanger out of you? "If these androids see you, they will shoot you, so you need to cover yourself up a bit. We won't go to crowded places so that we won't be detected." He explained to you. You put on a jacket and a scarf so that it covered at least half of your face. His jacket was pleasant to wear and his soft scarf kept you warm in the process. Childe gave you a small smile and patted your head lightly. "Let's go."

You followed him to the alley, as always, the alleys were not very clean and there was garbage strewn everywhere. You noticed how the ginger-haired man walks carefully, looks around and checks to see if anyone is coming. You wonder why he helps you. You shook your head to stop thinking about it, you'd probably find out later.

Suddenly Childe pushed you against the brick wall, you looked sideways at him and he just put his finger to his lips to show you to be quiet. A robot about 218 cm (7.15 ft?) tall passed by the alley, it looks a bit similar to the ones you met in the hospital, but this one looked like it had more upgrades. It was black and white with some parts glowing blue, its head was a helmet with a screen in the middle and some black chains were hanging from it. Long arms on which you could probably see guns that were hidden. Its torso was quite small and the legs were thin from above and became a bit larger lower down. You also saw "3X0R 2371 - D" written on the back. Once it was gone, Childe let go of you and peered over the wall, looking around.

"Are these the robots you were talking about?"

"Yes, they are called Exors... Listen, we have a little problem." He announced and you looked where he was. There was another alley on the other side, but to get to it you would have to get past a crowd of androids. "We have to get there, unfortunately as you can see there are a lot of androids so stay close to me."

Walking quickly, you adjusted your scarf so that it covered your face at least a little, and you kept your head down so as not to stare at the androids. You were nervous so you squeezed your hands to calm yourself down a bit. You noticed how Childe tensed as one of the Exors passed by you, before you could even react you heard a gunshot behind you and you were pushed to the side. He was in front of you and quickly pulled out his gun, shooting at the screen of Exor who shot towards you.

Some androids started to panic and run away, you could barely see what was happening. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Childe wearing some strange mask, he kicked one of the Exors and shot the other one behind him. You would help him, but you didn't have any weapons on you and you didn't want to disturb him. While you were lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice one of these machines approaching you from behind, sticking out its hand to shoot at you.

Childe's eyes widened when he saw this and loudly shouted your name to warn you. You looked behind you and when you were about to run away, it was hit perfectly in the hand, but what you didn't expect was that after a while, half of it exploded and it fell down, unable to move anymore. Did Childe have any other weapons?

You wanted to look to the side to see who he shot when suddenly a motorbike passed by you. You squealed as at the same moment you felt one arm wrap around your torso and lift you up, making you land on the motorbike. You were fed up with everyone picking you up like a doll. You couldn't see what the person looked like because they were wearing a helmet and Childe was still fighting the Exors so it wasn't him. Are you about to get kidnapped? The unknown person made a sudden turn and crashed into the rest of the robots, helping Childe. Maybe you weren't kidnapped after all..

"Quick!" Childe quickly shot down the last one and jumped on the motorbike behind the person. As you set off, you looked out and saw the rest of the Exors gathering, but they couldn't catch you anymore. You sighed with relief, it was a stressful action but luckily everything went quite smoothly.

"You're blocking my view." You heard this person talking to you so you went back to your previous pose so as not to disturb them. "Sorry.."

You turned into different places to avoid being detected until you finally reached a dead end when suddenly the wall moved, opening a passage. You swear you'll go crazy soon. Once you were inside, the bright light blinded you slightly, so you narrowed your eyes slightly. The person got off their motorbike and immediately went to Childe to hit him in the back of the head.

"Hey! What was that for?" He started rubbing the back of his head "What for? WHAT FOR?! Are you fucking crazy?! First of all, you left without telling anyone, secondly, you exposed yourself and thirdly, you brought a fucking human! How fucking stupid are you?!" You were still sitting awkwardly on the motorbike, listening to them argue.

"Look, I couldn't leave them there. They would die there!" Childe gave you an apologetic look and you shook your head to show him you didn't mind. "Yeah? Great! Now they will take your place because I will fucking push you into the shredder!" Wow, this person sure had a little aggression problem. "You always say that and you've never pushed me in there before." This seemed to piss the person off more and they grabbed Childe by the collar to get him down to their level.

"You'll end up there soon because your bullshit is starting to overheat my circuits!" You heard a light chuckle behind you, which scared you a little, next to you was a boy with platinum blond and a orange-red streak. He had a gentle smile as he looked at the two.

"Don't worry about them, Childe and Scara are always arguing like this." He looked at you "My name is Kazuha, welcome to our group "Antares."

✎ || PREVIOUS || *ೃ༄ || NEXT || — MASTERLIST

✎ Childe has no colors, but I will probably show him in full one day (There will also be a drawing of Scaramouche soon :D)

✎ I made a playlist, I hope you like it! I also put the link in the masterlist.

✎ Have a good night/day!

(⁠つ⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)⁠つ TAGLIST — @sl-vega , @veekoko , @magica-ren , @averagehuman-notsuspicious , @theyluvkatt , @himariilove

[acmemechatronics1]

The Different Types of Coil Winding Machines: Which One is Right for You?

Coil winding machines are at the heart of the manufacturing process for many electrical components, such as transformers, motors, solenoids, and inductors. Whether you're a large-scale manufacturer or a smaller shop producing custom coils, choosing the right winding machine can significantly influence your efficiency, product quality, and overall production costs.

In this article, we’ll explore the different types of coil winding machinery available today, their key features, and which applications each type is best suited for. We’ll also take a look at how companies like ACME Mechatronics, a leading manufacturer, supplier, and exporter of coil winding machines, are advancing the technology to meet the diverse needs of the industry.

1. Single-Spindle Coil Winding Machines

Single-spindle coil winding machines are the most basic and traditional type of winding equipment. These machines are designed for simple, low-volume applications where winding coils of uniform size and shape is a priority.

Features:

Manual or Semi-Automatic Operation: Single-spindle machines may be either manually operated or have basic automated functions like programmable speed and tension control.

Versatility: While typically used for smaller or custom coils, they can wind a variety of wire types, from fine to thick gauge wire.

Low-Cost Option: Ideal for smaller businesses or those with budget constraints, these machines are generally more affordable compared to fully automatic systems.

Applications: Single-spindle machines are ideal for small production runs and prototypes, where custom coil specifications and flexibility are essential. Industries such as electronics, small transformers, and speaker manufacturing commonly use these machines.

2. Multi-Spindle Coil Winding Machines

Multi-spindle coil winding machines are designed to handle multiple winding operations simultaneously, making them ideal for high-volume production environments. Each spindle can wind an independent coil or be synchronized to create multiple coils in a single pass.

Features:

Increased Productivity: These machines allow you to wind several coils at once, greatly improving production speed.

Higher Precision: Multi-spindle systems often come with advanced tension control and automatic wire feeders for greater winding accuracy.

Customization Options: Many multi-spindle machines are designed with adjustable spindle heads, allowing for different coil shapes and sizes.

Applications: Multi-spindle machines are best suited for large-scale production runs where consistency, speed, and high output are required. They are used in industries like automotive, power generation (e.g., motor coils), and large-scale transformer winding machines.

3. Automatic Coil Winding Machines

As automation continues to play a key role in manufacturing, automatic winding machines have become more common. These machines offer full automation in winding processes, minimizing human intervention and increasing precision.

Features:

Full Automation: Automatic winding machines can control every aspect of the winding process, including speed, wire tension, coil layering, and cut-off operations.

Programmability: Operators can program the machine to produce coils of various sizes, shapes, and wire gauges, making them highly flexible for different applications.

Advanced Sensors and Feedback Loops: These machines often come with built-in sensors that track performance metrics like tension, temperature, and even wire position to ensure optimal winding quality.

Applications: Automatic winding machines are used in high-volume, precision-driven industries such as telecommunications, medical devices, and automotive electronics. They are particularly effective for industries that require coils with high accuracy, such as in the production of transformers, inductors, and solenoids.

4. CNC Coil Winding Machines

CNC (Computer Numerical Control) coil winding machines offer the highest level of precision and flexibility, making them suitable for complex and custom winding applications. These machines are driven by computer programs that control every movement of the machine, allowing for incredibly detailed and intricate coil designs.

Features:

Computer-Controlled Precision: CNC winding machines are capable of performing complex coil winding tasks with high precision, making them suitable for specialized applications like aerospace, medical equipment, and research & development.

Custom Programming: Operators can design and save coil winding programs for different products, which can then be recalled for future production runs.

Multi-Axis Capability: Many CNC coil winders are equipped with multi-axis capabilities, allowing for the creation of coils in multiple directions or complex geometries.

Applications: CNC coil winding machines are ideal for specialized industries that require highly customized and detailed coils. These include medical device manufacturers, aerospace engineers, and manufacturers of high-tech inductors and transformers.

5. Horizontal vs. Vertical Coil Winding Machines

Coil winding machines are available in both horizontal and vertical configurations, each with its advantages depending on the specific application and space constraints.

Horizontal Coil Winding Machines:

Space-Efficient: Typically used in environments where floor space is limited.

Suitable for Larger Coils: Horizontal machines can handle larger coils and are often preferred for large electrical motors or power transformers.

Vertical Coil Winding Machines:

Faster Setup: Vertical machines can be easier to load and unload, reducing setup times.

Better for Smaller Coils: Vertical machines are often used for winding smaller components like solenoids, speakers, and precision transformers.

6. Specialized Coil Winding Equipment

Some coil winding equipment is designed for specific applications that require custom features or specialized winding techniques.

Features:

Precision Layering: Some machines offer the ability to precisely layer wires, essential for creating coils that need to meet specific impedance or resistance requirements.

Overhead Coil Winding: For large coil sizes, overhead winding machines help to support the weight and manage the tension of the coil.

Magnetic Coil Winding: Machines specifically designed for magnetic coils or coils that require fine, uniform wire tension are available for industries like sensor manufacturing.

Applications: Specialized winding machines are used in industries that require unique coil designs or specific features, such as research and development labs, high-frequency transformers, or magnetic field generators.

Conclusion

Choosing the right coil winder is crucial for optimizing production and ensuring consistent product quality. Whether you need a simple, manual coil winding equipment for low-volume runs or an advanced automatic winding machine for high-precision and high-volume production, the type of machine you select will depend on your specific application requirements.

At ACME Mechatronics, a trusted manufacturer, supplier, and exporter of coil winding machinery, you can find a wide range of solutions designed to meet the diverse needs of the coil winding industry. Their innovative machines, designed for both high precision and efficiency, are trusted by manufacturers across various sectors.

With so many options available, how do you determine which coil winding machine is the best fit for your business?

[fibrespace]

My grandma's kenmore sewing machine from 1971 performs better than my new babylock in every way but at least the babylock has... *checks notes* a drop-in bobbin that jams up half of the time and an automatic thread cutter that works properly only when the winds are blowing eastward 🙄

[windingmachines]

[seongwars]

away with the wind | xiv

Pairing: dragonrider!Seonghwa x ex-dragonrider!Reader AU: dragon rider au | strangers -> lovers Summary: A spinal injury forces you to retire from dragon racing, and with it, the end of your engagement to Song Mingi. Park Seonghwa, a rising star in the world of dragon racing and heir to the prestigious House Park, seeks a new dragon after an unfortunate accident on the skyway. As the saying goes, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Word Count: 7.5K (sorry!) Warnings: dragon violence, kidnapped children, swearing, mentions of blood

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a/n: this chapter's for the san girlies

Emergency Evacuation Order: Leave Immediately

A massive dragon has been sighted wreaking havoc, with confirmed reports of collapsed infrastructure, fires, and heavy casualties. Troops have been deployed in response to the ongoing destruction. All citizens are urged to evacuate now to ensure their safety.

San stood at the edge of the city, flanked by soldiers armed with automatic rifles modified to fire incendiary rounds. The harsh glow of searchlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the monstrous form of Yeosang’s dragon as it circled above, its rotted scales gleaming like a living war machine.

“Coordinates locked!” called an officer from the command unit, his voice muffled by the roar of jet engines overhead. 

“Missiles are primed and ready, General Choi!”

San’s jaw tightened as he tracked the dragon’s movements. It wasn’t just a creature—it was a weapon, an apex predator bred for war created by the hands of man. Its talons carved into the sides of buildings as it perched on a crumbling skyscraper, its long neck craning to survey the chaos below. 

“Negative,” he ordered. “We’re too close to civilian zones, we have to flush it out.” 

A squad scrambled into action, launching rockets that briefly lit up the battlefield in fiery streaks. The dragon twisted in midair, evading the barrage, and, in a swift and devastating counterattack, unleashed a torrent of searing flames engulfing the battlefield in a hellish inferno.

The explosion shook the ground violently. San barely had time to duck as vehicles burst into flames, sending debris and shrapnel flying in every direction. Stelle folded her massive wings around him, shielding him from the onslaught. Falling debris struck her armored hide but bounced off harmlessly. Her golden eyes, piercing and insistent, turned to him with urgency.

“Drones, target the left wing,” San ordered, his voice rough but firm. “Smoke it out now!”

From above, a formation of drones shifted into position, releasing a barrage of missiles. The dragon roared in frustration as several struck its wing membranes, tearing through the delicate structure as the beast faltered mid-air. But as the smoke cleared, the hope drained from San’s face. The dragon flapped its wings once, twice, regaining its balance with ease. The damage had been superficial at best.

His heart pounded in his chest as he racked his brain, desperately trying to remember every detail of a dragon’s anatomy. He could hear the frantic chatter in his earpiece, soldiers shouting over each other as they scrambled to recalibrate their approach. But he forced himself to block out the noise, his mind racing through everything he’d ever learned from his training and folktales about dragons.

“The wings are reinforced,” he muttered, piecing it together out loud as his eyes scanned the beast.

“The scales are too thick for standard rounds... Headshots require too much precision…” His gaze darted across the dragon’s body, searching for anything—a crack in its armor, an unprotected joint, anything that could give them an edge.

Then it hit him—He could almost hear Jongho’s nagging as if he were standing right beside him, dropping a precariously tall stack of books onto the table.

“This is ridiculous,” San grumbled, flipping the book open. “Do you really think I’ll ever need to know the difference between a fire gland and a venom sac? Or the exact length of a dragon’s vertebrae?”

“If you don’t understand how they move, how they breathe, or where they’re vulnerable, you’ll be dead,” Jongho retorted sharply.

“What kind of soldier would you be then? You’ll thank me later!”

San had sighed, dragging his hand down his face, but the seriousness in Jongho’s voice had silenced any further complaints. He’d spent the rest of the night pouring over diagrams of wing joints and muscle structures, muttering curses under his breath.

But now, standing in the middle of a battlefield with a dragon circling above him, its eyes scanning for its next target, San let out a breathless laugh.

“The throat,” he said aloud, his voice firm. His eyes narrowed as he locked onto the underside of the dragon’s neck, where the scales thinned just slightly to allow for flexibility. It was a small target, but if they could strike that spot with enough precision and force, it might be enough to sever critical muscles and disrupt the glands beneath. 

He tapped his comm, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Focus on the throat—right under the jaw! We take that out, we stop the fire.”

“Understood, General,” a voice replied, shaky but determined.

“Let’s fly,” San said, gripping Stelle’s reins tightly. She let out a fierce roar in response, her wings flapping open as she ascended into the fray, ready to execute San’s plan.

⊹

“Y/N said you had the coordinates for the kids,” Seonghwa demanded, striding toward Mingi. 

Mingi, lounged casually against a van, barely sparing him a glance at first. When he did, it was with that infuriating, shit-eating grin that stoked Seonghwa’s temper. 

“Well, hello to you too,” he drawled, his voice thick with sarcasm.

Seonghwa stopped a few feet away from him, his patience visibly thinning. “Time’s running out,” he snapped, his voice low but filled with restrained anger. 

“Do you have the coordinates or not?”

“I do,” Mingi said, his voice firm, though doubt flickered in his gaze. He folded his arms, his stance challenging as his eyes narrowed.

“You gonna kick in the door and hope for the best?”

​​“If that’s what it takes,” Seonghwa replied coldly, his posture unyielding as he stood tall, meeting Mingi’s stare head-on. 

“And if it doesn’t work, I can always call reinforcements.”

Mingi let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and humorless as it echoed through the room. He shook his head, the bitterness in his expression unmistakable. 

“Reinforcements,” he repeated, the word rolling off his tongue with disdain. “Ah, I forgot. You’re always trying to play the hero, aren’t you? The golden boy with his endless connections and resources.”

Seonghwa’s eyes hardened, his jaw tightening as he took a step forward, closing the distance between them. “This isn’t about me. It’s about the kids and I made a promise to see it through. Either you give me the coordinates or get out of my way.”

“Enough,” Yunho interjected firmly, stepping between them before the tension could escalate further. His calm yet commanding presence immediately demanded their attention. 

“This isn’t the time for that. Is there anything else we need to know, Mingi?”

Mingi glanced at Seonghwa, his defiance momentarily tempered by Yunho’s steady tone. 

“The facility won’t be as heavily guarded as the lab,” he admitted, his tone begrudging. “But it’s still a stronghold.”

He hesitated, his gaze shifting to the ground before he continued. “And the kids...might not come quietly.”

“What do you mean?” Yunho asked.

Mingi’s expression darkened. “They’ve been through hell,” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with a bitterness he couldn’t quite mask.

“The testing, the experiments—it’s messed with their heads.”

Seonghwa’s eyes narrowed, his hands curling into fists at his sides, but he forced himself to stay focused. Letting anger take over wouldn’t help—not now.

“How many are there?” he asked, his tone clipped, trying to push past the sinking weight settling in his chest.

“At least fifteen. Maybe more. It’s hard to say for sure. Some were... eliminated,” Mingi replied. The word came out jagged, laced with bitterness and contempt as he forced it out.

Seonghwa’s expression darkened, his brows knitting together as he absorbed the information. “Fifteen,” he repeated, the word hanging heavily in the air.

His mind raced, already calculating the logistics. Supplies. Transportation. Medical aid. The sheer manpower needed to extract so many—and that was assuming they could even move.

“And how many of them can even move? If they’ve been subjected to tests—”

“You think they’ll be marching out of there in neat rows? Most of them are half-starved, scared out of their minds, and don’t even know what ‘safe’ looks like anymore.”

Seonghwa’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately. He knew Mingi was right; the kids weren’t just prisoners—they were victims of something far worse, and whatever strength they had left was likely hanging by a thread.

Yunho glanced between the two men, his own expression grim. “Then we need to be prepared,” he said evenly, breaking the tension. 

“If we’re going to do this, we have to go in ready for anything—not just the defenses, but the kids themselves. Their fear. Their distrust. Everything they’ve been through.”

Seonghwa’s gaze hardened, the determination in his eyes unshaken despite the grim picture Mingi painted. “We’ll figure it out,” he said firmly, his voice carrying a quiet but undeniable conviction. 

“We’ll need supplies—food, medical kits, and a contingency plan for the worst-case scenario.” His mind raced, organizing the next steps with the precision of someone who refused to let failure be an option.

“Mingi,” Seonghwa continued, his focus turning to his rival, “you know the layout better than anyone. We’ll need every detail—entry points, exits, guard rotations, weak spots.” 

“Yunho,” he said, his tone softer but no less commanding as his attention shifted, “we’re going to need more than Voltage and Starshine to ferry the kids out. Find us extra transport.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, heavy with the gravity of the task ahead. Then, his voice softened, the quiet determination in his tone making it clear there was no room for doubt. 

“But no matter what,” he said, his gaze locking on each of them in turn, “we’re not leaving them there. Not one.”

The brightness of the surgical light above felt almost intrusive, forcing your eyes to flutter shut. Each beep of the monitors echoed like a countdown, a reminder of the risks surrounding the procedure.

Your body felt like it wasn’t entirely your own—numb, heavy, distant. Even the sharp sting of the anesthetic was fleeting, overtaken by a spreading warmth that dulled your senses. Your head felt heavy, the edges of consciousness slipping further away with every passing second.

Somewhere beyond the haze, you think you hear Seonghwa’s voice, but you can’t make out the words. The last thing you saw before darkness took over was the bright light overhead.

And then silence.

“She’s under,” the nurse announced, checking the monitors. Steady beeps confirmed your vitals, though the subtle fluctuations suggest a body already trying to fight the invasive tech.

The surgeon leaned in, her gloved hands steady above the incision site. “Let’s get this done before the implant integrates itself into the spinal column. No room for error,” she muttered. 

With surgical precision, she made the first incision at the base of your neck, the scalpel slicing cleanly through layers of skin and muscle. Blood welled around the edges of the cut, quickly suctioned away to maintain a clear view. Beneath the tissue, the faint metallic glint of the implant caught the overhead light, a foreign presence embedded deep within your body.

Her brow furrowed as she maneuvered delicately, parting sinew and nerves with control. Sweat beaded at her temple as she worked to sever the intricate web of connections between the implant and your spinal column.

Outside the operating room, your family waited in agonizing silence. Sunmi paced in tight circles, her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms. Your grandmother sat on the edge of a chair, hands clasped tightly in her lap, lips moving in silent prayer. Every so often, her gaze flicked toward the door, as if willing it to open and deliver good news.

The shrill ring of a phone cut through the heavy quiet, startling everyone. Your grandmother fumbled for her device, hands shaking slightly as she answered.

“Sangjoong?”

“I know this might not be the most opportune time,” his voice crackled from the other end of the line.

“But Seonghwa has asked for our help.”

Your grandmother’s brows furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. “What do you mean?”

“Time is running out,” Sangjoong said, his voice filled with urgency, “and it’s a long story, but Seonghwa has the coordinates to the location of some missing children linked to Cromer Labs. There are two dragons available to help with the extraction but he’ll need more.”

Chunja’s gaze flickered toward Sunmi, who had stopped pacing, her eyes wide as she stared at your grandmother.

“I…suppose,” your grandmother began, her voice measured but laced with an undertone of hesitation, “since the military is preoccupied with that monstrosity, the burden must fall elsewhere.” 

For a moment, Chunja remained seated, her hands gripping the arms of the chair as though grounding herself for what was to come. Then she stood slowly, her movements carrying the weight of years spent navigating impossible choices. Yet, there was no trace of weakness in her posture.

“It will be done,” she said firmly, the hesitation gone from her voice. Her eyes burned with an unyielding determination as she tightened her grip on the phone. 

“Tell Seonghwa I’ll bring three dragons.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, the faint hum of static underscoring the enormity of her promise. 

“I’ll send you the coordinates,” Sangjoong replied, his tone grave but tinged with relief. Without another word, the call ended, the screen going dark in her hand.

“You’re not really going, are you?” Sunmi’s voice broke through the quiet, tinged with urgency and disbelief. 

Chunja’s lips pressed into a thin line, the weight of Sunmi’s question settling on her like a shroud. For a moment, she stood still, the silence stretching between them. Then, with a slow breath, she lifted her gaze.

“Aurora hasn’t been at war for 200 years, but we will be if we don’t stop what’s happening with that dragon.” 

She paused, her gaze distant, and for a moment, Sunmi thought she wouldn’t say more. But then Chunja’s shoulders straightened, and her tone took on a deeper gravity.

“When I was young, the riders before me warned us of this. They said that peace wouldn’t last forever—that one day, the skies would burn again, and it would be up to us to hold the line.” Her expression softened, touched by a flicker of something almost mournful. 

“I didn’t believe them. I thought we’d outgrown war, that we’d finally learned.”

Chunja turned, her eyes meeting Sunmi’s, sharp and unyielding. “But I look at the next generation—the children we’ve trained, the dragons we’ve bred full of fire and hope—and I see it in their eyes. They’re not ready. Not for this. If we don’t act now, they’ll be the ones dragged into a war they don’t understand, against an enemy they’ve never faced. I won’t let that happen.”

“If I have to risk everything to give them a chance to live in the peace we’ve had, I’ll do it.”

⊹

Yeosang stood atop the roof of Cromer Labs, observing the battle between humanity and Hope unfold beneath him. She was magnificent—his masterpiece. The way she twisted and dove, effortlessly outmaneuvering the Auroran military’s clumsy aircraft, filled him with a rare sense of pride. Her form was immaculate, every movement a testament to years of meticulous work, trial, and sacrifice.

The battle below was a cacophony of explosions, melding with the roar of gunfire, and the desperate shouts of soldiers scrambling for cover. Missiles and drones screeched overhead, in an attempt to land a hit on her, but she was too fast. Too agile. Every shell that came near her was met with a graceful twist of her body or a sweep of her tail that sent it careening harmlessly into the ground.

“Beautiful,” he murmured under his breath, voice barely audible over the chaos below.

Yet even as he admired her, a voice in the back of his head reminded him that the Auroran military was relentless. Squads were regrouping, heavier artillery was being deployed, and from the corner of his eye, he caught jets breaking through the clouds.

Hope roared again, this time in pain, as one of the jets managed to land a glancing blow along her flank. Yeosang’s heart seized for a moment, his fists clenching at his sides. She faltered in the air, her wings shuddering, but recovered quickly, retaliating with a burst of searing red flames that engulfed the jet, sending it spiraling in a fiery wreck.

Yeosang’s gaze returned to Hope, who had regained her momentum, surging through the remaining jets with determination. For all their efforts, the Auroran military was fighting a losing battle. Yeosang knew it, and from the looks of panic and desperation below, so did they. This wasn’t just a fight—it was a statement. A testament to the power of what he had created.

Smoke billowed from wreckage, the acrid stench of burning metal and scorched earth rising to meet him when a sudden, high-pitched whine pierced the air.

The strike hit Hope's throat before she could react, embedding deep into the vulnerable space between her armored scales. She let out a strangled, guttural roar that reverberated through Yeosang like a physical blow.

“No!” A shout tore from his throat, raw and unrestrained. His face dropped as he watched her writhe in pain, struggling to lift her head. Smoke and debris obscured his view, but he could see the harpoon glinting in the pale light.

Rage surged through him, hot and unrelenting, searing away any remnants of logic or restraint. He turned his gaze skyward, his eyes locking onto the craft responsible. It hovered ominously, its sleek design unlike anything the military had deployed before.

Then his eyes shifted, narrowing as they locked onto the unmistakable figure leading the charge—a rider atop a dragon nearly as formidable as Hope. 

San.

“Of course,” Yeosang hissed under his breath, his voice trembling with fury. The strike wasn’t a fluke. It was a warning shot, meant to prove that San wasn’t just a soldier—he was a tactician. A predator.

Yeosang’s gaze snapped back to Hope, her massive form heaving with labored breaths as she struggled to push herself upright. Blood seeped from the wound in her throat, staining the debris around her. Yet despite the pain and the odds, she didn’t yield. Her fiery eyes burned with defiance, her growls low but unbroken.

"You think you can match her? Match me?" Yeosang gritted. 

Hope let out a deep, guttural growl as she shifted, attempting to rise despite her injuries. The harpoon may have struck deep, but it hadn’t stolen her fire. Even through the haze of pain, she zeroed in on Stelle, her instincts sharp and unrelenting. She wasn’t done fighting—not yet.

Above, San’s sharp eyes met Yeosang’s from across the distance. There was no gloating in his expression, no trace of smugness. Instead, his face was set with cold, unwavering resolve. He wasn’t here to play games. This wasn’t a spectacle for him. It was war.

Yeosang’s jaw tightened, his fury simmering beneath the surface as his gaze flicked back to Hope, watching as she fought against her injuries, her growls deepening into something almost primal.

“Stand down,” San ordered. 

Stelle’s wings shifted slightly, her posture tense, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. San wasn’t threatening—he was offering Yeosang a choice.

Before Yeosang could answer, Hope let out a guttural snarl and launched herself into the air, propelled by a surge of desperate fury, and in a heartbeat, collided with Stelle. 

San, perched firmly on Stelle’s back, barely shifted as her wings flared out, catching the air with ease as she twisted to avoid Hope’s next attack. Her talons lashed out, grazing Hope’s shoulder and drawing blood, but the dragon barely flinched, her defiance burning brighter.

From below, Yeosang watched the clash with clenched fists, the battle a representation of the storm brewing within him. The air crackled with tension, the sky above him a blur of flailing wings, scales, and unyielding resolve.

Seonghwa paced outside the meeting point near the holding facility, his boots crunching against the rocky ground. The distant roars of dragons and the echoing explosions from the battle with Yeosang reverberated through the air, each rumble amplifying his unease. The rendezvous was supposed to be quick–yet, every second felt like an eternity.

On the horizon, shimmering forms emerged over the ridge, causing Seonghwa to freeze mid-step. Cirrus and Eos glided into view, their scales reflecting the moonlight even in the dead of night. Trailing behind them was a larger shadow that made Seonghwa’s heart drop. Dante landed last with a thud, sending tremors through the ground. His fiery amber eyes scanned the area before narrowing at Seonghwa.

“Lady Chunja,” Seonghwa called, jogging toward Chunja as she dismounted. Relief washed over him as Cirrus trotted forward, nudging him lightly in greeting, but it was quickly overshadowed by the audible huff from Dante. He swung his massive head to the side, a deliberate show of disinterest as Seonghwa approached.

“Seonghwa,” Chunja greeted, brushing dirt off her cloak. She didn’t seem winded from the flight, her composure as unshakable as ever. “Has everyone else arrived?”

“Yes,” Seonghwa replied, his voice tight. “Hongjoong, Yunho, and I will be assisting with the extraction, which leaves you and Lord Kim with our retreat.”

Chunja nodded, her sharp eyes assessing the surroundings. “Cirrus, Eos—hold position here. Dante…” She patted the elder dragon’s side, her tone softening. 

“Try to behave.”

Dante rumbled low in his throat, the sound reverberating like distant thunder. His gaze shifted to Seonghwa, who stood his ground despite the tension crackling between them.

Mingi emerged cautiously from the shadows, his expression guarded as he approached. The faint tension in his posture was unmistakable, and his eyes flickered briefly over each dragon before landing on Chunja.

Your grandmother straightened slightly, her gaze cool and assessing. Though she was no stranger to second chances, her wariness of Mingi lingered, especially after all that had transpired at the end of your relationship.

“My lady,” Mingi greeted, bowing slightly to Chunja. His voice was steady, but there was a subtle hesitation in the way he spoke, as if testing the waters.

“Mingi,” Chunja acknowledged, her tone neutral but carrying the weight of her watchful scrutiny. 

Dante’s gaze flicked over toward Mingi, his expression unreadable, though the slight flare of his nostrils suggested his own distrust. Your grandmother cleared her throat, reminding her dragon to stand down. 

“What’s the status inside?”

Mingi blinked, as if shaking himself free of the moment, and cleared his throat in response. “The facility’s defenses are spread thin,” he began, his voice firm as he focused on the task at hand. 

“Most of the guards were drawn to the city because of the dragon attack. We have a narrow window of opportunity.”

“And the children?” 

“They’re being held in the lower levels,' he replied grimly. 'I didn’t see many guards down there, but the clock’s ticking. The longer we wait, the more likely reinforcements will show up.”

Chunja nodded, her sharp eyes narrowing as she calculated their next move. “Understood. Then we don’t waste another moment.”

⊹

Mingi slipped through the side entrance of the facility, the faint hum of the security systems buzzing in his ears. It wasn’t heavily guarded—not like the lab, but that only made him more cautious. 

He adjusted his earpiece, keeping his breathing steady. “I’m inside. No sign of resistance yet,” he whispered.

The corridors were dimly lit, the walls suffocating as he moved deeper into the facility. The air was sterile, yet heavy with an unspoken tension. Faint sounds echoed—distant machinery, muffled cries that made his stomach churn. 

The children.

He turned a corner, coming face-to-face with a single guard. The man’s eyes widened in surprise, but Mingi was faster. He grabbed the guard by the collar, slamming him into the wall with a force that knocked him unconscious before he could raise the alarm.

“Clear,” he whispered, moving past the crumpled figure.

Behind him, Hongjoong, Yunho, and Seonghwa moved into position, their eyes scanning the area for any signs of movement. Hongjoong knelt briefly by the guard’s body, ensuring he was fully out cold before signaling the others to advance.

They moved quickly, their footsteps muffled against the polished floor. The faint hum of machinery buzzed in the background, broken only by the occasional distant echo of voices or the sharp hiss of steam from the facility’s ventilation system.

They pressed forward, the dim hallways twisting and turning like a labyrinth. The air grew colder as they descended deeper into the facility, the faint sound of muffled cries and shuffling feet growing louder with each step.

Mingi’s chest tightened as they rounded another corner, revealing a large, reinforced door. A keypad blinked red at its side, indicating its locked status. His fingers flew over the keypad, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he bypassed the security protocol. 

“Give me a minute,” he muttered, sweat beading on his forehead despite the chill.

The heavy door slid open with a hiss, revealing a dimly lit room lined with capsule-like pods stacked neatly along the walls. Each pod was just large enough to hold a single person, the frosted panels glowing faintly with a white light. Inside, children of various ages were curled up in makeshift beds, their faces pale and drawn under the dim glow.

As the door opened fully, heads began to turn. One by one, the children stirred, blinking against the sudden shift in light. Their movements were tentative at first—hesitant, unsure—before the realization dawned on them: the strangers were there to help. 

Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Yunho didn’t hesitate. Moving quickly, they slid open the pods, speaking softly to the children as they extended their hands.

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong assured, his voice calm and steady as he coaxed a young girl to climb out of her pod. “We’re here to take you somewhere safe.”

Seonghwa knelt beside another pod, offering a reassuring smile to a boy clutching a thin blanket tightly around his shoulders. “Can you stand?” he asked gently. The boy nodded, his thin legs trembling as Seonghwa helped him to his feet.

The children began to gather in small clusters near the center of the room, their movements stiff and uncertain as they clung to each other for comfort. The atmosphere was heavy with quiet murmurs and stifled sobs, a mix of relief and fear. 

Mingi crouched near them, his tone soft but steady as he coaxed them closer. “Come on. Stay together and follow me,” he urged, his gaze scanning the group to ensure he didn’t miss anyone. 

The children moved as a single, trembling mass, their feet shuffling against the floor as Mingi led them toward the exit. Each sound—the creak of the walls, the hum of machinery—made them flinch. Their fear was palpable as Mingi and Hongjoong worked quickly to lead them out.

From the shadows of the far corner, a figure stepped forward. It was an older boy, his frame lanky but strong, his expression sharp and watchful. He looked about seventeen, his dark eyes scanning the room quietly. His presence was commanding, a stark contrast to the younger children.

Yunho froze for a moment as recognition flashed across his face. 

“Jinsik?” he called, his voice soft but filled with urgency.

The boy stopped in his tracks, his shoulders stiffening slightly. His gaze locked onto Yunho, and after a tense moment, he gave a small, sharp nod.

“You’re alive,” Yunho breathed, the tension in his shoulders easing as his expression softened. He took a careful step forward, as though approaching a skittish animal. 

“Your father never stopped looking for you. He asked us to help.”

The mention of his father made something flicker in Jinsik’s expression. His jaw tightened, his eyes darting to the ground before flicking back to Yunho’s. There was no anger, no joy, just…shame. 

Jinsik hesitated, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. The room seemed impossibly quiet, save for the muffled murmurs of the other children as they gathered near the exit. 

“He shouldn’t have,” he muttered, his voice laced with bitterness and self-loathing. “It’s my fault I’m in this mess to begin with.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was just another pawn in Cromer’s game. They promised my family everything and I believed them. But it was all a lie,” his voice cracked, and he exhaled sharply, shaking his head.

Yunho’s heart ached at the sight of the young man before him, his shoulders hunched under the crushing weight of guilt and betrayal. “Your father doesn’t care about any of that,” Yunho said firmly. 

“He just wants you back. You’re not a failure, Jinsik. You’re still here, and you’re safe. All that matters is getting you home.”

Jinsik hesitated, the lines of tension in his face softening slightly as Yunho’s words sank in. His shoulders loosened just a fraction, but the doubt in his eyes lingered, a trauma response developed from betrayal and disappointment.

“If it helps…” Yunho began, his voice growing lighter, an edge of warmth creeping into his tone, almost teasing. “I think there’s someone here you really admire who wants to help.”

The boy blinked, startled by the shift in Yunho’s demeanor. His brow furrowed in confusion. 

“What are you talking about?”

Yunho didn’t answer directly. Instead, he jerked his head toward the far end of the corridor, where Seonghwa was crouched, gently adjusting the blanket around a young girl he had scooped into his arms. The girl clung to him, her tear-streaked face buried in his shoulder as Seonghwa spoke to her in low, soothing tones.

Jinsik’s gaze followed Yunho’s gesture, his eyes widening as he watched Seonghwa balancing the girl in one arm while performing a headcount of the children. 

“That’s…” Jinsik whispered, his voice trailing off. His lips parted slightly, in awe.

“P-Park Seonghwa?”

Yunho nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “The one and only. So, what do you say? Ready to get out of here?”

Jinsik looked down, his jaw clenching as emotions churned within him. Slowly, he exhaled and gave a small nod, his shoulders lifting as he straightened. The doubt in his eyes lingered, but now there was a spark of determination breaking through, fragile but growing stronger. Without another word, he stepped forward, moving to join the younger children as they huddled together. 

The sound of boots pounding against the floor grew louder, echoing through the corridors like an ominous drumbeat. "Find them! They couldn’t have gotten far!" a voice barked, harsh and commanding.

“Faster!” Hongjoong urged, his voice a harsh whisper as he crouched beside the maintenance hatch, holding the panel open. “Come on, kids—don’t stop now!”

The children shuffled forward in a trembling line, their movements sluggish with fear. Yunho, his face tense but calm, stayed in the middle of the group, gently guiding them one by one into the cramped passage. 

"You’re doing great," he murmured, his large frame shielding them from the growing chaos around them. "Just a little more."

Mingi stood at the back, his eyes darting between the approaching corridor and the last of the children climbing into the hatch. The walls groaned ominously, the aging facility betraying its fragility. A fluorescent light flickered overhead, casting shadows across the floor that made the younger ones flinch and cling to each other.

Mingi’s stomach twisted. They were running out of time.

“Seonghwa,” Mingi hissed, his voice low but sharp. “Take them. I’ll stay back.”

“What?” Seonghwa snapped, spinning around to face him.

“There’s no time to argue,” he shot back, his voice sharp but quiet. His gaze flicked to Yunho, who nodded grimly and ushered the last child into the hatch.

“If they see you,” Mingi continued, “it’s over for all of us. I can buy you time.”

Seonghwa’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists. “This is insane, you don’t have to—”

“I do,” Mingi interrupted. “They need you more than me. Go.”

For a moment, Seonghwa hesitated, the conflict clear in his eyes. But then Hongjoong grabbed his arm, his voice low and bitter. “He’s right. We have to get them out. Now.”

With one last glance, Seonghwa ducked into the hatch, pulling the panel shut behind him.

The corridor fell eerily silent. Mingi exhaled slowly, his hands balling into fists at his sides. The flickering light above cast a pale glow over the empty hallway, the stillness almost unnerving. The guards rounded the corner moments later, their weapons raised.

“There!” one of them barked.

Mingi stepped forward, raising his hands in mock surrender. His lips curled into a smirk that was equal parts challenge and disdain. “Well, you found me,” he drawled, his tone deliberately lazy and dripping with defiance. 

“What now?”

The guards hesitated, their formation faltering as they processed the scene. Their eyes swept over the hallway, confusion creeping in when they saw no one else. This wasn’t what they’d expected—a lone figure standing calmly in the middle of the chaos.

“Sir…Mr. Mingi?” one of them stammered, lowering his weapon slightly. His gaze wavered, as if trying to reconcile the defiant man in front of him with the S-class rider.

The guards hesitated, their formation faltering as they took in the man standing before them. Mingi’s smirk didn’t waver, but his eyes tracked their every move, sharp and calculating. He stepped forward deliberately, forcing them to react.

The lead guard’s face darkened as he stepped forward, his weapon still raised but unsteady. “We were told intruders broke in. What’s going on? Why are you here?”

“If you’d stop pointing those things at me, maybe I’d explain,” Mingi replied smoothly, his hands still raised in a mockery of surrender. 

“Unless, of course, Cromer Labs wants to deal with the PR nightmare of you roughing up their golden boy.”

At the mention of Cromer Labs, the guards froze, their faces a mix of confusion and apprehension. “He’s... he’s sponsored by the labs,” one of them muttered, glancing nervously at the others. “We can’t touch him.”

“You lay a hand on me, and I guarantee the higher-ups will have your heads. So maybe think twice before pulling that trigger, yeah?”

The guards grew more uneasy, their weapons shaking as they looked at each other in uncertainty. The tension was thick, but Mingi stood firm, appearing confident despite his racing heart. Behind him, the children's footsteps had stopped—they were gone and safe now. That was all that mattered.

Outside, Chunja stood rigid, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The cold night air bit at her skin, but she barely noticed. Her sharp eyes scanned the surrounding shadows, searching for any sign of trouble. 

“Jang’s a fool—always has been,” Chunja muttered under her breath, her voice low but seething. “Keeping Lady Lee around was his biggest mistake.”

Sangjoong snorted, shaking her head in disdain. “The man’s a walking disaster, as is, it’s pathetic.”

“She’s gotten comfortable—complacent.” Chunja’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “That’s why she’s sloppy. I can’t wait until the Court buries her.”

Sangjoong’s smirk faltered, his expression turning serious. He pushed off Ventus, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Still, we need to be careful. She isn’t someone you corner without expecting a fight. She’s got dirt on half the council.”

Chunja rolled her eyes. “A family man with a son who works in the archives is all the dirt they have on you,” she said sharply. “You really think that’ll stick?”

“It’s not about what sticks,” Sangjoong replied, his tone measured. “She’s clever, Chunja. And desperate people are dangerous.”

Before Chunja could deliver another biting remark, movement at the edge of her vision drew her attention. Her head snapped toward the building, her posture immediately stiffening. Beside her, Dante, Eos, and Cirrus rose to their full height, joined by Lord Kim’s dragon, Ventus. Their tails swayed low and deliberate, their sharp eyes scanning the shadows for any threats.

The heavy door swung open with a low groan, and the soft murmur of voices spilled into the night. A small crowd began to emerge, their movements slow and tentative. Children—thin, pale, and wrapped in thin blankets that offered little protection against the chill—filed out in clusters. Their faces were etched with exhaustion and fear, but Yunho and Hongjoong guided them gently, their reassuring words coaxing the children forward.

Chunja’s expression softened, the ferocity in her eyes giving way to something gentler, though no less intense. “The children,” she murmured, uncrossing her arms and stepping forward slightly.

“We have to move quickly!” She turned back to the dragons, her hand raising in a commanding gesture. “Cirrus, Eos, prepare to mount. Every second we wait, someone else gets hurt.”

The dragons responded instantly. Cirrus stepped forward, lowering herself to the ground so the children could climb on more easily. Her eyes were sharp but gentle, and she rumbled softly, as if to reassure the nervous little ones. Eos mirrored the motion, her wings folding neatly as she crouched, ready to bear her load.

Sangjoong moved to assist, lifting the smaller children onto the dragons’ backs. “We’ll need to double up on a few of them. There’s no time for a second trip.”

“We’ll manage,” Seonghwa said firmly, his voice steady as he guided another child toward Starshine. “The dragons can handle it.”

Chunja took one last look around, her sharp eyes scanning the area for any signs of danger. Satisfied, she stepped toward Cirrus, grabbing hold of the reins and vaulting onto the saddle. 

The dragons rose in unison, their wings spreading wide as they prepared for flight. The children clung tightly to the ropes, filled with fear and awe as the powerful beasts beneath them began to stir.

With a mighty push, they launched into the air, their wings beating against the night sky as they carried their precious cargo to safety. Below, the ground quickly disappeared, leaving only the distant glow of their destination ahead.

“Where’s Dante?” Hongjoong asked, pulling Rami’s reins into an ascent. 

Chunja glanced over her shoulder, her grip tightening on Cirrus’ reins. “He’s still down there,” she said calmly, her tone casual despite the growing tension.

Far below, Dante’s massive form stood out against the dark, his stormy scales blending into the surrounding rubble. The faint flicker of emergency lights played off his dark, iridescent scales as he prowled through the wreckage. Guards poured out of the collapsing facility, their shouts echoing into the night as they scrambled to mount a defense. Firelight built in his throat, molten and alive, spilling from the edges of his teeth like liquid gold.

“What is he—” Seonghwa started, leaning forward, but Chunja waved him off with a flick of her wrist.

“He’s finishing the job.”

Dante reared up on his hind legs with a deafening roar, his wings unfurling in a display of raw power. With a sudden exhale, a torrent of fire engulfed the facility in a single, devastating wave. The blaze consumed the facility in seconds, the flames hungrily devouring walls, machines, and anything left standing. Explosions burst like fireworks, sending debris shooting into the sky. The guards who had dared to give chase turned and ran, their shouts lost in the roar of destruction.

“That’s one way to put an end to things,” Seonghwa muttered.

Chunja smirked, leaning back in her saddle as Cirrus banked to give her a clearer view of the spectacle. “Efficient as always,” she remarked, completely unbothered by the destruction below.

Dante remained on the ground for a moment longer, his chest heaving as the last embers of his attack faded. Then, with a powerful leap, he launched himself into the sky. His dark wings cut through the smoke, and within moments, rejoined the others.

The elder dragon flew close to Chunja, his eyes meeting hers briefly. She gave him a small nod, her expression softening. “Good work,” she murmured, though her voice was lost in the wind.

Ahead, the other dragons maintained their pace, the children clutching tightly to each other as the wind rushed past. Chunja glanced toward the horizon, her eyes narrowing slightly as the faint glow of the Park Estate came into view.

The two dragons collided in mid-air, their snarls reverberating through the night as claws and teeth clashed in a brutal, primal dance. Scales and firelight flew, and the sky seemed to tremble under the weight of their fury.

Hope, undeterred by Stelle’s onslaught of flames, snarled in response. Her rotting scales shimmered as she surged forward with a burst of speed, her claws slashing through the air in an attempt to cripple Stelle. San tugged on his reins, guiding Stelle just enough to avoid the blow, the tip of Hope’s claws grazing her side.

“Don’t falter now,” Yeosang muttered under his breath, though it was unclear if the words were meant for Hope or himself.

High above, Stelle dipped suddenly, her wings snapping close to her body as she plummeted toward the ground. San's grip on her harness didn't waver, his focus sharp as he prepared for her next maneuver. Hope followed, her roar tearing through the night as she dived after them.

Stelle roared as she banked sharply to the right, narrowly avoiding another fiery barrage from Hope. San leaned into her motion, his gaze flicking between Hope and the horizon, where the military forces lay in wait. The plan was simple but brutal: lure Hope into a vulnerable position where her exposed underbelly could be targeted. But getting her there was proving to be anything but easy.

San’s sharp eyes tracked every motion. “She’s guarding her underside,” he muttered, frustration creeping into his tone. “We need to expose her.”

Stelle let out a snarl in agreement, her intelligence matching her rider’s. With a sudden burst of speed, she dove toward Hope, her claws extended as though going for another strike.

Hope’s jaws snapped toward Stelle’s neck, but the war dragon abruptly shifted mid-dive, angling her body away at the last moment. Instead of landing her blow, Hope overextended, her balance faltering as she left herself momentarily exposed.

“There!” San shouted.

But Hope was quick to recover, her wings beating furiously as she propelled herself upward to regain her position. 

“She’s too fast,” San muttered, narrowing his eyes. Then, an idea sparked. “Stelle, we need to keep baiting her. Keep her focused on us, and make her think we’re desperate.”

Stelle grunted, angling sharply as she dove again. This time, her movements were erratic, almost sloppy, as though she was struggling under Hope’s relentless assault.

Below, military forces were in position, their weapons primed and ready with projectiles waiting for the perfect shot. Stelle dove low, her wings slicing through the air as she skimmed just above the ground, weaving a frantic path to evade pursuit. Hope surged behind, her larger, heavier form struggling to match Stelle’s speed. Forced to descend lower than usual, Hope pushed hard to close the distance.

San’s breath hitched as he watched the pursuit unfold, every beat of his heart mirroring the tension in the air. His voice rang out, sharp and commanding. 

“Now, Stelle! Climb!”

With a powerful beat of her wings, Stelle shot upward, spinning sharply to avoid Hope’s snapping jaws. The maneuver left the rotting dragon exposed, her underbelly glinting in the moonlight as she struggled to adjust her trajectory.

From the ground, a signal flare burst into the sky. The first cannon fired, its projectile screaming toward Hope with deadly precision. It struck her exposed underbelly, exploding into a burst of fire and shrapnel.

Her furious roar morphed into a cry of agony as she twisted midair, desperately trying to evade further strikes. The second and third projectiles followed in quick succession, slamming into her with unrelenting force. Her mighty presence diminished to pitiful whimpers as she plummeted toward the ground, reduced to a flailing mass of wings and scales.

“No!” Yeosang fell to his knees, ​​his outstretched hand trembled, as if he could somehow catch her fall or undo the damage.

Dust and debris filled the air, but Yeosang remained frozen, his face pale and contorted in disbelief. “You can’t take her from me!” he bellowed, his words heavy with despair.

“She was mine,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, the sharp edge of his anger giving way to an overwhelming grief. His chest heaved as his mind raced, grasping at the enormity of his loss.

“How…how could this happen?”

For a moment, all the fight drained out of him, leaving him hollow and shaking. Then, slowly, his grief ignited into something darker. His gaze snapped upward, locking onto those responsible. His jaw tightened, and his trembling hands clenched into fists.

Stelle circled above, her movements sharp and vigilant as ground troops swarmed around Hope's fallen form. On the lab’s rooftop, several helicopters hovered ominously, encircling Yeosang, preventing him from attempting escape. 

“It’s over,” San called out through the cacophony of rotor blades and distant shouts. There was no room for doubt, no hesitation in his tone. His gaze bore into Yeosang’s, unwavering even as the other man trembled with the weight of his grief and rage.

<< xiii | xv >>

a/n: we're close to the finish line (only 3 chapters left to wrap up everything nicely) 😭 sorry if this seemed rushed, I had to cut 2K words of dragon fights and traumatized children

taglist: @chngbnwf, @sunnysidesins @litolmochi @syubseokie @park-simphwa @szakias @babymbbatinygirl @oddracha @maliamaiden @signingsongbird @passionandsuga @mitchii

@notevenheretbh1 @intowxnderland @foxinnie8 @sanriomilk @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone

[seat-safety-switch]

In the ancient past, folks used to think that “progress” meant automating everything. You’d go to an automatic diner – an automat, in their futuristic speak – order some food from a little locker, and eat it without ever having to interact with another human being. And now, their dream has come (almost) true. Due to budget constraints, the cool shiny chrome and Art Deco styling has not happened. Instead, your local grocery store now has an automated checkout system which accuses you of shoplifting if the wind blows over your shopping bag while you’re trying to load it.

I’ve complained previously about the gall of this industrial-grade insult machine, and I won’t belabour the point further. The real point is: why didn’t restaurants turn into this, too? To answer this question, I posed as an independent news reporter by not showering for a week, and headed to the local sushi restaurant. Here, a robot “wait staff member” (no gendered language for robots, please: it produces ambiguity in their parse system) was ready to deliver my food to me, on demand, however much I wanted.

Like all computer-based things, I knew that the robot was designed by humans, and so was the fancy iPad they chained to the table that I could use to order food. And humans never think of things like “ordering a negative amount of food.” All I had to do was sit and drink my complimentary water, and plug in a keyboard to the iPad. I watched out of the corner of my eye as the “order quantity” indicator went up.. and up.. and up.. and up.. and after a couple hours of the robot not kicking me out, it went to 2,147,483,647, and overflowed the counter. Now, the iPad proudly displayed that I was ready to order negative two billion items of tuna sashimi. I decided to add a few other items to the order, and then pressed a button which I assumed to say “wench, fetch me my food.”

Friends, and I use that term loosely because I know at least some of you are undercover law enforcement, I did not expect for the restaurant’s robot to literally catch fire, its lithium-ion batteries rupturing in an unquenchable fire as I waited patiently for my meal. On the plus side, when the bill did come, ushered to me by the replacement wait-staff-bot, I swiped my credit card and made enough money to purchase a small tropical island. Maybe there really is something to this future business.